Billionaire for Hire (For Hire)

by Cat Johnson

  BILLIONAIRE FOR HIRE

  The For Hire Series

  A Hot SEALs Spin-off by

  New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

  CAT JOHNSON

  "I owe you one."

  I didn’t realize when I said that to my Navy SEAL buddy he’d actually collect on the debt. Or that it could cost me my life.

  I'm Brent Hearst, for God's sake. A member of the one percent. As in old family money. Yet somehow I'm standing here, smiling while there’s a gun strapped to my leg ruining the line of my Italian suit.

  But my real issue isn’t with that gun. Oh, no. It’s my other weapon I can’t control when I’m around the sexy-as-sin brunette who might or might not be a spy. It seems I don’t care which while I’ve got her against the wall with my hand fisted in her hair.

  Oh, and while I figure out if I’ve been sleeping with the enemy, I’ve also got to keep us both from being killed by a couple of gun-toting Russians.

  No problem.

  Billionaire for Hire is a full-length standalone contemporary romance, the first in the For Hire series by New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Cat Johnson. It is a loose spinoff from Cat Johnson's Hot SEALs series, with cameo appearances from favorite characters.

  ONE

  My running shoes striking the pavement of the path through Liberty State Park kept time with the driving beat of the old Aerosmith song pumping through my wireless ear buds.

  Just in case the view of the Hudson River and New York City skyline wasn’t enough to entertain me during my morning run, I’d set up my playlist—classic rock—to be timed perfectly to get me from start to finish.

  Today I’d reached my apartment building before the final song began. That had me smiling. I’d cut my time, which meant I’d increased my speed.

  I was already seeing marked results just a couple of months after I’d decided to kick my fitness routine up a notch—and that had been just one of the changes in my life. I’d also moved out of my Manhattan apartment and to the New Jersey side of the river.

  My parents thought I was insane. After all, I was Brent Hearst, so what the hell was I doing living and working in Jersey?

  In their opinion, I was supposed to be paying through the nose for a Manhattan apartment. In my opinion, they were the crazy ones.

  The Hudson was just as majestic from the Jersey side and New York City looked far more magical with a little distance blurring out the less savory details.

  Most of my old-moneyed classmates from boarding school would probably agree with my parents. Most, but not all of them. Zane Alexander would understand.

  He got me. He always had, in spite of our good-natured rivalry, or maybe because of it.

  Zane could appreciate how, at times, I hated being a Hearst as much as I loved it . . .

  And I couldn’t frigging wait for the next time I went running with my good old friend Zane and kicked his ass. Ha! Just let him try to mock me and my lifestyle now. He should run two publishing companies in two different states and see if he had time to work out as much as he did as a SEAL.

  I was proud of myself. I’d stuck to my new workout routine in spite of my work and travel schedule. I might not be Navy SEAL material—yet—but by the time I saw him next I should be able to give him a run for his money.

  Money. There was an idea. Maybe I should suggest a friendly little wager. Not that I needed the cash, I had plenty of my own, but taking a chunk of Zane’s money would give me great pleasure just on principal.

  After slowing to a walk to cool down, I finally got to the door of my building. I stopped and pulled out my cell.

  I hit pause on the music and checked the time. I wanted confirmation I really had done the run as fast as I thought I had. That’s when I saw the text from Zane, the very man I’d been thinking about.

  The text was brief and to the point, just like the man himself. He asked me to call him as soon as I could so I punched the screen to return the call while I leaned against the wall and stretched my quad muscles.

  When Zane answered, I said, “Well, well, well. Just the man I was hoping to hear from.”

  “Oh, really. And why is that?” Zane asked.

  “I’m going to be in Virginia all this week. I thought we could get together. Go for a run maybe.”

  I didn’t elaborate and tell him I wanted to kick his ass on the running trail to make up for the razzing he’d given me the last time we’d run together. That could be my little surprise.

  “Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I was hoping you were in Virginia. Any chance you can meet me at my office today?”

  “Sure.” Though I would rather meet him at a bar than at his office.

  Preferably at a place that served food since all this exercise made a man hungry, but I guessed I could grab something along the way.

  Or, even better, maybe once I got there I could convince Zane to move our little meeting to someplace near his office. Somewhere that served food with a side of alcohol—or visa versa.

  “You free now?” he asked. “I need to run something by you.”

  Zane never did have any patience for waiting around for anything.

  I’d be pissed that he expected me to drop everything to come meet him on a moment’s notice if he hadn’t done exactly that for me just a couple of months ago when I needed him.

  He’d used all his considerable resources and helped me in a big way and I promised if there were anything I could ever do for him, I’d do it. But what he was asking was impossible.

  Including the walk to the station and the wait for my train, the trip door to door from my New Jersey apartment to Virginia by rail took the better part of the day.

  I laughed. “Sorry. I’m still in Jersey. But I’m leaving in about an hour. I’ll be in Virginia this afternoon.”

  “All right. Text me as soon as you get here.”

  “Sure. No problem.” I rolled my eyes as he continued to make demands on my time.

  “Great. Talk to you later.” As Zane disconnected it was obvious he hadn’t picked up on the sarcasm I thought had been pretty clear in my tone.

  With the call done and my plans settled, I yanked open the door of my building, bypassed the elevator and instead ran up the stairs.

  I took them with renewed vigor after the break I’d had during the call with Zane and still reached the third floor barely out of breath.

  It was nice when even small effort, when done consistently, yielded big results.

  While opening the door of my apartment, I decided that might be a good topic for the next company-wide meeting. I hit the face of my smart phone and recorded a note to myself so I didn’t forget the idea.

  God, I loved technology. But right now, I loved the smart water in the fridge even more.

  I grabbed a bottle from the shelf in the door, took a few gulps, and then carried the bottle with me toward the bathroom. I needed to shower and get to the station since apparently I had a meeting later with Zane.

  My mental review of my schedule was interrupted as I passed my bedroom on the way to the bathroom. Antonela was there, stripping the bed of its sheets.

  I leaned in the doorway. “Hey. I didn’t realize you were here.”

  “I needed to work today instead of tomorrow. Remember? I told you last week.” She glanced up from the king-sized mattress she was bent over as I stoically ignored her tempting position.

  I could get laid any day—God had blessed me with many attributes ladies liked—but a good housekeeper was hard to find. I wasn’t about to ruin our working relationship by tumbling Antonela into that bed she looked so good bent over.

  I forced my focus back to the discussion—her working today instead of
her usual day.

  “I’m sure you did tell me.” And I’d forgotten because of the thousand other things running through my head. If I didn’t record a reminder for myself, it inevitably got forgotten. “It’s fine. I’m just going to jump in the shower then leave for Virginia.”

  She straightened up and turned toward me. “I just put fresh towels inside for you.”

  Again I refused to let my gaze stray to where her tight T-shirt hugged her shapely assets. “Thanks. You’re the best.”

  Maybe I’d matured since turning thirty. A couple of years ago I might not have shown such restraint because damn was she hot.

  I’d better never go to Croatia because if the women all looked like Antonela, I’d be in big trouble.

  Hell, I’d probably come home married even though getting myself a wife—or even a steady girlfriend—was the dead last thing on my agenda. It was right down there next to the second to last thing I’d ever do—sleep with my housekeeper.

  I wasn’t sure whether to be proud or panicked by my new found mastery over my formerly overactive libido

  I decided not to waste brainpower thinking about it and headed for the shower.

  Zane awaited me.

  TWO

  The apartment I'd set up in Alexandria had all the necessities so all I had to do when I left Jersey was throw my laptop in a bag and I was on my way.

  I spent more hours than I’d like on Amtrak, but it wasn’t too bad. First Class on the Acela Express was extremely civilized. Far more civilized than flying or driving. No weather delays. No traffic. I could definitely envision the days of old when society’s elite—men like my great grandfather—traveled the country by rail.

  Good old William Randolph would be proud I was keeping up the Hearst tradition, both in publishing and in travel.

  There were none of my staff around to interrupt me while I was on board so I was able to get more work done than if I’d been at the office.

  Today, I’d put my cell on silent after taking my seat and had handled the bulk of my To Do list by the time we crossed into Virginia. Happy, I closed down the laptop, stowed it in my bag and pulled out my phone.

  I’d checked my cell sporadically during the trip to make sure there were no emergencies at either office that needed my immediate attention so when I looked now I only had one text. The name on the display had me shaking my head.

  Zane Alexander.

  Ever impatient, he was obviously checking up on me. The text told me not to forget to call him when I got into town.

  I hadn’t needed his reminder. I was planning on calling once I was off the train, but I hit to call him back now rather than wait.

  “You here?” he asked, without the formality of a hello.

  “I am indeed. Just about to get off the train and head over to you.”

  “Great. What’s your ETA?” he asked.

  Ignoring that he’d gotten even more demanding since this morning I glanced at the time on my watch and did a quick calculation.

  Zane’s office was walking distance from the Dupont Circle Metro Station. Since I was already at Alexandria Station, I could easily walk to King Street and hop on the Metro there.

  “Give me twenty minutes, give or take,” I said.

  “Perfect. I’ll be here waiting.”

  Zane, the man in perpetual motion, was waiting? For little old me? Interesting. This must be important. My curiosity was piqued, to say the least.

  Figuring I’d know soon enough what this meeting was about I let it go for now and said, “All right. See you then.”

  I disconnected and stood as the train came to a stop. Pocketing the cell, I grabbed the strap of my bag and joined the queue of passengers waiting to disembark.

  Outside, it had turned out to be a nice day. Warm but not too hot. Sunny here in Virginia after the slightly overcast start to my day in Jersey.

  The walk from the Metro felt good after sitting for so many hours. Kicking my annoying friend’s ass on the running trail as soon as I could pin Zane down to go would feel even better. I smiled at the thought.

  The GAPS office on N Street was small. Just two rooms on the ground floor but it was conveniently located and all that Zane needed for now, I assumed.

  And speaking of needs—I was barely in the door when I got an eyeful of Zane’s hottie receptionist.

  Damn.

  Seeing her provided a visceral reminder that I’d been too busy lately to handle some of my own more personal needs.

  Gorgeous and blonde with mile-long legs more suited for a runway than sitting behind Zane’s reception desk, she could fulfill all of a man’s fantasies, plus some.

  Not a surprise, really. Zane always did have an eye for pretty ladies. He apparently hadn’t changed even though he was now a married man. His taste for hot blondes obviously extended to employees as well as wives.

  For obvious reasons I would never date any of my own staff—but there was nothing stopping me from dating Zane’s employee as far as I could see.

  As I walked in she glanced up and smiled. “Good afternoon.”

  I closed the door behind me and returned her smile.

  “Good afternoon, yourself. I’m Brent. Brent Hearst.” Hand extended, I strode toward her. “We had the pleasure of bumping into each other here a couple of months ago, but we were never formally introduced.”

  She stood and walked around the desk and I got a better look at those oh-so-long legs. At a couple of inches over six feet tall, it was rare for me to be eye-to-eye with a woman as I was now with her.

  Although closer inspection revealed she wasn’t just tall, but also navigating four-inch heels—and doing it as easily as if they were an extension of her own feet.

  Walking in fuck-me pumps was a female talent for which I had vast appreciation.

  “Hi, I’m Chelsea Bridges. Nice to officially meet you, Mr. Hearst.” She shook my hand in a strong grasp.

  That was another thing I liked on a woman—a nice firm grip. It could be useful for more than just shaking hands.

  I knocked that thought from my head as I held on to her hand.

  “Call me Brent.” When I finally released my hold, I pulled a card out of my breast pocket and handed it to her. “And I do mean that. Call me. Maybe we could go out. For a meal or a drink . . . or whatever else you’d like.”

  Her blonde brows rose as she took the card. She opened her mouth but didn’t have a chance to speak before Zane appeared in the doorway of his office.

  She turned her head to glance at her boss, her blonde hair swinging as she did. “Um, Brent Hearst is here to see you.”

  “Yes, so I see. And please ignore my friend’s poor judgment. He obviously doesn’t understand what hands-off my office manager means.” Zane crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame while shooting me a glare.

  “Hello, Zane.” Shoving my hands in my pockets, I leaned close to Chelsea. “Ignore him. Call me.”

  Zane was shaking his head as I strode past him and entered his office.

  I sprawled in a chair as he closed the door between us and the lovely Chelsea and navigated around his big wooden desk.

  “Nice desk.” I raised my gaze to meet his.

  A desk that large had to be overcompensating for some shortcoming in the man seated behind it. I’d made sure my tone said just that.

  He cocked a brow high as he settled in the big leather chair behind his oversized desk and leveled a stare on me. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

  “Not true. I do know. And I know that time hasn’t come yet.” I grinned.

  He scowled and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. She wouldn’t date you anyway.”

  I rose quickly to his challenge. “How do you know that?”

  “Because she’s too smart and independent to fall for your dubious charm.”

  “Would you like to make a little wager on that?” There was nothing I liked better than a good bet.

  “No, I would not.”

 
; “Why not? Afraid you’d lose?” I asked.

  “No. Because betting on your ability to bed my office manager is just plain wrong.”

  I huffed out a breath, wondering when Zane had developed morals when it came to betting on women. He’d never had issues with it before. It must be marriage. It had changed him and not for the better.

  “You do realize she’s way too hot to be hidden away in your office all day. She should be modeling or something.

  “She’s actually a model as well as an actress. And yet she chose to be hidden away here in my office instead.”

  It was interesting news, but I wasn’t going to give Zane the satisfaction of admitting that. Instead I lifted a shoulder. “Go figure.”

  He let out a huff of breath. “Anyway, the reason I called,” he continued.

  “Yes, why did you call?” I asked.

  It certainly seemed it wasn’t so we could go out and have a good time together. And since he wasn’t going to let me have any fun with his receptionist I was really wondering why I’d taken the time to come over here.

  “I need your help.” There was no more joking in his tone.

  Gone was my cocky, smart-ass friend and here instead was Zane the businessman.

  Or, more accurately, Zane the deadly serious SEAL.

  THREE

  I’d seen this side of him when he’d worked a case for me earlier in the year.

  That the serious version of Zane was back was intriguing. That he wanted my help, even more so.

  “You need my help?” I frowned. “On what?”

  I mean I could help him with business advice if he needed it, although his father could do that also.

  Then again, those two got along like oil and water. Or more accurately like gasoline and fire.

  My attention was redirected when Zane used a remote control to turn on a flat screen television I hadn’t noticed hanging on the side wall.

  A few taps of Zane’s fingers on his computer keyboard and the screensaver showing his corporate logo switched to what looked like a website. Specifically the home page of a charity event.