The Scent of You (Saving the Billionaire Book 1)

by C. D. Samuda

  “If I do that, I might scare her. I don’t want her panicking because she thinks someone might get her,” he told her. “Until I know what’s going on, I’ll stay close to her.”

  “How will you do that?”

  “I need you to find out from your friend when she’s leaving the building. I’ll follow her to make sure no one is following her.”

  Vita shook her head. “That’s not a good idea. The bodyguard you hired for me can follow her without detection.”

  “You said you know someone was following you, that’s not without detection,” he remarked.

  “That’s because my brother accidentally hit the man’s car with his bike while parked a few doors down the street. The man didn’t even bat an eye and this morning the vehicle was still there. I saw the same car about ten minutes after I pulled in into the parking garage.”

  “Why so long?”

  Vita chortled. “I usually put on my make-up in my car.”

  Quinn went back to his office and called the man he’d hired for Vita. The guy was supposed to follow Leah at a safe distance to make sure she wasn’t in any danger. With his mind settled, Quinn was able to focus on work.

  ~16~

  ‘Wedding Planner Accomplishes the Impossible’ was the Cupertino Daily early edition headlines. Leah sighed, relieved that she’d actually pulled of such an impressive event. The wedding on Sunday was a success and she was exhausted.

  After the wedding, she’d spoken briefly to the press about how she managed to snag the Cali Mall courtyard. In the process, she received an interview offer at WPM Radio. That interview was scheduled to be in 45 minutes. She should have gone to the interview directly, but she was also due to meet a client right afterward and she needed a few things from the office.

  Every time Leah entered the parking area at the office, she was reminded of that night. Blankly she stared at the space she was supposed to occupy. A Bentley belonging to the space next to hers parked badly, taking up almost a third of hers.

  “How the hell am I supposed to get in there?” she muttered.

  After some minutes of careful manipulation of the vehicle, she finally parked. Cautiously, she opened the door and squeezed through the narrow space, careful not to let the door scratch the Bentley. Relieved that she made it, she slammed her door shut, only to have the strap of her handbag caught in the door.

  “Aish!”

  The strap came free just when she heard voices. Icy tentacles clawed the back of her neck. It took some effort to remind herself that this was the general time people arrived for work. There was nothing to fear at this hour.

  While heading toward the elevator, she caught glimpse of a small group in the corner of her eye. They were standing near one of the columns. When she was inside the lift, she turned to input her floor number. As the doors closed, she clearly saw Quinn’s associate accompanied by three others by the column.

  While the elevator ascended to her 6th floor office, Leah could not help thinking that something was odd about the group. Closing her eyes, she drew up a picture of them. Alan was facing off with a tall strapping man, his face twisted in anger.

  “Might be nothing,” she shrugged.

  Something else about the group set off an alarm. The news about Quinn’s assault described the attackers as dressed in black. The men conversing with Quinn’s partner were similarly dressed. Leah shrugged. Might be a coincidence.

  It was difficult convincing herself of the same. The men she saw wore black jeans, black t-shirt and black windbreakers. The tallest one sported a navy baseball cap. The only difference between them and the news description was that they weren’t wearing ski masks.

  The lift reached her floor and she made her way to her office. Still, the image of the men flashed before her. Why would Alan be talking with such men?

  “Could it be?” she mumbled, shaking her head. “No, it’s just a coincidence.”

  Absently, she pushed the office door, trying to rid herself of the niggling feeling that settled in her stomach.

  “You’re going to be late for the interview.”

  Leah jumped, startled at Bridget’s voice. “You scared me you, ninny.”

  “What’s got into you? You’ve been jumpy these last few days.”

  Leah made a face. “I’m just exhausted.”

  “You should never have agreed to this interview the day after such an event.”

  “I know,” she groaned. “I also have that meeting across town afterwards.”

  “Here.” Bridget shoved a file in her hand.

  Leah’s face visibly relaxed. “Thank you. What would I do without you?”

  Bridget gripped her upper arm and dragged her into her office. “Forget that. You have some explaining to do.”

  “What did I do?”

  Bridget pointed at Leah’s desk. “That.”

  Sitting on the desk was a bouquet of gardenias. Shrugging off her friend’s hand, she moved to pick up the card. Her heart pounded as with anticipation as she knew exactly who had sent them.

  Thank you for Friday. Looking forward to lunch today Quinn.

  “Oh-oh,” she murmured.

  Bridget closed in on her, folding her arms across her chest like a schoolmarm. She was tapping one foot with one brow cocked. Leah did not meet her eyes but she could feel Bridget’s silent reproach. When Bridget turned and walked out the door, Leah plopped herself into her leather chair.

  “That was close,” she breathed.

  She’d just about started relaxing when Bridget returned. Her assistant set two croissants and Americanos on her desk. She then checked the time and mentioned that they had a few minutes before Leah had to leave for the interview. When Bridget took the chair facing her desk, Leah knew she’d been caught red handed. Leah picked up a croissant and one of the coffees, inhaling the delicious scent of both.

  “You thought you got away from me didn’t you?”

  “Thank you,” Leah quietly said, indicating the bun. “I needed this.”

  Having missed breakfast, Leah bit into it with gusto. It was delicious and she closed her eyes to savor every morsel. She knew what was coming next and she braced herself for the inquisition.

  “Now tell me.” Bridget sipped her coffee. “Am I your friend or not?”

  Leah raised her eyes. “What kind of question is that?”

  “If I were your friend you would have told me that you were the woman who saved Mr. Fine and Perfect!”

  “Huh?” she scrunched her face. “I … well ….”

  Picking up her coffee, she took a sip while trying to avoid Bridget’s penetrating glare. She downed another gulp, bracing herself for the third degree.

  “I’m waiting for an answer,” Bridget snapped.

  “Okay, I was the one who called 911. But how did you know?”

  Her friend glanced at the flowers. “When he brought those,” she retorted. “And these.”

  Leah’s mouth fell open. “He brought the coffee and croissant?”

  “Yep.”

  “And he delivered the flowers himself?”

  “I’m the one asking the questions, Missy,” Bridget said her voice stern. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You were going on so much about how fine he was, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” she explained.

  Her friend burst into a fit of laughter. “Hurt my feelings? I wasn’t the one who saved his life. In any case, you do need a boyfriend more than me.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” she protested.

  “Really? Flowers second time around, coffee and croissants in the morning. He’s definitely your boyfriend,” Bridget teased.

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” she insisted but Bridget ignored her. “So you’re not mad at me?”

  “I was hurt that you didn’t feel the need to tell me. I thought I was more than your assistant…perhaps I was wrong,” Bridget replied, wiping away a fake tear.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” she grinned.

  �
�Now, tell me all the gory details, from the beginning,” her friend said.

  Leah recounted every detail of that night. Bridget listened intently as she recounted the night when she found Quinn, missing her flight and everything afterward.

  “You said you left the hospital shortly after they took him in, how did he know it was you?” Bridget asked, her eyes sparkling.

  “It’s your fault!” It was Leah’s turn to admonish her. Bridget’s confusion was evident. “You sent me on that trip and he was there.”

  “What? You mean he was at the Lodge?” when Leah nodded, Bridget continued. “And he recognized you?”

  “Yes, he said he remembered my eyes and perfume,” she smiled.

  Talking about Quinn made her pulse flutter and a warm feeling settled in the bottom of her belly. The memory of his kiss sent ripples of pleasure coursing through her. She could feel the warmth rushing over her.

  “Oh … my … God! Something happened,” Bridget gasped.

  She emphatically shook her head, messing up her hair. “No, that’s ridiculous. What could have happened?” she gave a little laugh that sounded hollow to her. She took another gulp of the luke-warm coffee.

  “You’re blushing redder than my grandma’s cranberry sauce!”

  “Black people don’t blush,” she protested even though her cheeks burned. “Okay,” she relented. She knew that beneath her light honey complexion Bridget could make out her reddened cheeks. “We kissed,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “We kissed!”

  Involuntarily, her tongue stuck out and ran across her lips. Bridget leaned forward, her elbows on the desk, waiting for more details.

  “Now spill it. You only have five more minutes before you have to leave.”

  “We went on a date, he kissed me … and I kissed him back … that’s all, I swear,” she said in a rather nonchalant manner.

  “OMIGOD! You’re my new hero.” Bridget rose from her chair, a faraway look in her eyes. “I can see it now, the headlines. Wedding planner weds the Sexy Billionaire next door.”

  “Stop, and he’s not my neighbor,” she laughed.

  “He is our business neighbor.”

  Leah slung her bag strap over her shoulder, picked up the file and started walking toward the door. “Bridget this isn’t some romance novel.”

  Bridget grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. “I can’t believe you finally have a boyfriend and he’s so damn fine!”

  Leah pushed her hands away. “He’s not by boyfriend.”

  As she reached for the door handle Bridget’s teasing made her wince. “Quinn and Leah sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-….”

  Before Bridget could complete her spelling, Leah disappeared. It would take her eight minutes to get to the radio station a she had twelve minutes to spare. She‘d spent longer that she had expected in the office due to Bridget’s inquisition.

  As Leah took the elevator down to the sublevel parking, she recalled the group of people that morning. Alan’s face surfaced and she tried to figure out why this bothered her so much.

  ~17~

  Bridge Bolin’s phone buzzed. With a grimace, he snatched it from his jeans pocket. The burger he’d been munching on was cold. Everything is freaking cold, he lamented. When would he be able to live a normal, decent life? He looked at the number and snickered. This client was mean as f*ck. Bridge had been trying to get some money off the victim but the guy wasn’t buying.

  “Yes,” he reluctantly answered after numerous rings.

  Returning the partially eaten burger to the small paper container, he set it on the dusty table in the abandoned warehouse. A puddle had begun forming at the base of a cup of coke. The water began trickling to one side of the table. That’s when he realized either the table was lopsided or the floor was.

  “What took you so long to pick up the phone?” the voice said on the other end, breaking into his thoughts.

  “Can’t a guy have some freaking lunch?” he spat. “What do you want?”

  “The woman, the one who saved his life, I need you to take her. I have a place you can keep her,” the person said.

  He snickered once more. “That’s gonna cost ya.”

  “Don’t worry about the money. Once the jobs is done I’ll be rolling in lots of cash.”

  Bridge shook his head. “No siree, that’s not good enough fer me. I need me money up front.”

  “Okay, how much this time?” the person asked. He could hear the displeasure in their tone.

  “As it’s you, five gran’.”

  “Done,” the voice said, before he heard a click.

  He could kick himself. He should have asked for more money. Doing these rich folks dirty work was getting to him. He was getting old with a family to feed and two useless sidekicks. They were all muscle and no brain. If only that Quinn fellow had paid, he’d be rolling in some sweet cash now and the guy wouldn’t be nursing any wounds. He was no killer, he was a man with a need for money.

  Harrison never responded to the text message, that’s why he went through with it. The orders were to take him out and the client was only paying 25 grand. That was chicken feed. He figured that he could get more if he contacted the source. After all, he’d done his research and found out that Harrison was Executive of the Year more than once. He was rich, driving around in his Jaguar.

  All Bridge wanted was enough money for a rainy day and enough to feed his family. At age 45, he’d been in and out of jail several times, and had no intention of going back. His son was 17 and was off to college in a year or two. The wife left him several times and was threatening to leave again if things didn’t get better. He’d promised her that things would improve, but he found himself trapped in a life of crime.

  A clanking on the pavement alerted him to the entry of Fleeta and Penny. He’d met Fleeta in jail – a big burly fellow who was soft spoken and quite a gentle soul. Penny was sweet on Fleeta and decided to hang around. They appeared through the door and strolled over carrying their lunch. They liked fried chicken. He wasn’t much of a chicken man so they’d gone to the place down the street.

  “I don’t like this place,” Fleeta observed. His dark brown eyes darted around, as he pulled up a dusty old chair. Penny did the same thing.

  “This place is just fine,” he responded. “We got a job.”

  Fleeta looked at him with a grin. “Who is this time? Can we get some cash from the vic?”

  “I don’t think so. You know the girl from the building, the one that saw us the other day?”

  “Yes, she could identify us,” the big man nodded slowly. “What do we do?”

  “We nap her and take her where the boss says,” he answered.

  This job needed to be done as quickly as possible. After taking the girl and stashing her, his job was over. Kidnapping wasn’t his kind of thing and he was only doing it for the cash. His buddies needed to eat and so did his family. The five grand would be split three ways, which only gave him two grand in his pocket. It wasn’t worth it.

  He was glad that after he took the girl to the location, he would be finished with it and perhaps his association with this particular client. He needed clients with more money. This one was waiting for Harrison to kick the bucket before collecting. That did not help Bridge much. He needed money and he needed a lot of it - fast.

  ~18~

  It was a late lunch around 2:30. Leah had a busy day with the radio interview and a meeting across town that lasted about three hours. Quinn was happy to wait until she was free. By the time they met, he’d almost forgotten how hungry he was.

  He figured that while he was with her in the open she was safe. It was when he wasn’t with her that he worried the most. The bodyguard was supposed to follow her once she left the office building.

  Since the incident, the managers increased security and added another camera to the parking area. Two extra guards worked the late shift as well. Quinn felt that the perpetrators wouldn’t be foolish enough to ret
urn to the scene of the crime or try another attack there.

  From the moment he left the hospital, he had been alert about his surroundings. He scanned the area for any movements before entering his car. The gun was easily reachable from its shoulder holster and he felt safer with it.

  Lunch – or rather early dinner - was nice and cozy at the French café on the other side of town. Quinn had to admit that he enjoyed spending time with Leah, a rare occurrence for him. He couldn’t stop staring at her lips during their conversations and he had to draw on great strength of will not to kiss her again.

  On occasion, his eye strayed to her high firm breasts. At these times, he thought about how much he wanted to bury his face in her plush mounds. What would it be like to take her nipples between his lips and ravage them until she begged him to stop?

  Usually during his dates he would be restless, had to keep up appearances and listen to gossip, or fashion talk. Leah was different. She matched him on every level. No subject phased her, and he felt stimulated enough that when it was time to leave, he was disappointed.

  Not only did she mentally stimulate him, she stirred something deep inside him that perhaps had laid dormant. His desire for her wasn’t just because he found her sexually attractive. She lighted a fire in his loins as well as his soul.

  Quinn was never a man to believe in that soul mate bullshit. Leah made him want to believe otherwise. Even the silence during lunch wasn’t vacant. Every look, every breath they both took was a communication in itself that he knew their connection was more than physical.

  When she looked into his eyes, he felt stripped, not of his clothing, but of the walls he’d built around himself – around his heart. Quinn had learned from an early age to keep himself guarded against anything that could make him weak.

  Love made one weak. He saw that with his father and how it shattered him when his mother left and later when she died. He’d seen love shatter many men whose women cheated or a when they got divorced. However, here he was sitting across from a woman who made his core quiver and sent fire shooting up his belly. He wasn’t sure what it was, whether it was love. All he was certain of was that he desired her more than he desired anyone woman before.