One Night With The Billionaire Too

by Cross, Cassie

“I’m gonna miss you while you’re gone,” Sasha tells her. “You’ll be off living the high life with a hot guy who loves you by your side and I’ll be here with, yes, amazing champagne, chocolate-covered strawberries and high-end bath products, but…no hot guy.”

  A heavy silence descends as the ghost of her relationship with Trey enters the room. She’s talked about him here and there, preferring to cope with the breakup by mostly ignoring the fact that he ever existed, but sometimes she lets something slip that brings the situation into sharp relief.

  “He doesn’t love me,” Amber argues. It’s half-hearted though, because sometimes…sometimes, she thinks maybe he does. She pushes the thought down as soon as it blossoms, but it’s still there, nagging.

  Much like her sister.

  Sasha sighs. “You two need to get your heads out of your asses and…I don’t know, put your hands on each other’s asses.”

  Amber groans. “That was bad.”

  “Even mom is waiting for you two to get together.”

  “You shouldn’t be filling her head with that kind of stuff. It’s not happening.” Amber doesn’t know how many times she can say it before it sinks into Sasha’s thick skull.

  Sasha shrugs helplessly. “I see you two together and I can’t help myself. She thinks if you’re asking for an apartment that you should aim high. Something with two bedrooms.”

  Okay, now she knows Sasha’s just trying to get under her skin. And…sadly, it’s working. She throws the handful of underwear she just pulled out of the dresser at her. Sasha laughs and slingshots a pair of briefs at Amber that goes sailing over her shoulder.

  “Did you ask for a car?”

  “What would I do with a car?”

  “Make out with Chase in the backseat?”

  “That’s it,” Amber says, smacking Sasha on the back of her leg. “Get out, I have serious work to do. Chase will be here soon.”

  For once Sasha actually listens to her and drags herself off the bed, playfully smacking her sister as she walks by. She starts closing the door behind her, but pokes her head in one last time and says, “Bring sexy undies, not those things you just threw at me.”

  With some peace and quiet, Amber finishes packing. She has a nice array of casual clothes, sundresses, and a couple pairs of sandals. She’s even bringing some hiking boots just in case, because she’s a thorough woman who likes to be prepared for anything.

  As she’s giving her things a last once-over to make sure she hasn’t forgotten something, her gaze drifts to the special drawer in her dresser, the one where she keeps all her sexiest lingerie.

  It’s pointless to bring lingerie, she knows this. It’s not going to happen, she can’t let it happen. But then…she thinks back to the look Chase gave her at his apartment, when she said that this trip was dangerous. That look sent a thrill through her, and it was an amazing feeling, being wanted by him. Or, at least, believing that she was.

  That look had left her buzzing with a kind of sexy anticipation that propelled her throughout the week. It had been a rough one, but she and Chase got through it as a team, like they always did.

  Last night he took her out to dinner at her favorite hole-in-the-wall diner, where they split a grilled cheese and a cup of tomato soup. After, they’d split a slice of chocolate cake, and Chase had reached over and swiped a bit of frosting off her lip with his thumb. She’d felt more heat in that affectionate gesture than she had in some kisses.

  She’d wanted to get lost in it. A whole weekend of that? Her defenses will definitely start crumbling, and she can’t let them. She has to stay strong.

  Still…if she’s bringing a pair of hiking boots to a retreat attended by a bunch of people she knows for a fact have never gone hiking in their lives, she might as well bring some lingerie.

  Always be prepared, right?

  She walks over and opens the drawer, selects a few pairs of undies and one fabulous bra, then hides them under a sweater in her suitcase.

  Her little secret.

  Amber walks through the lobby of her apartment building a few minutes before Chase told her he’d be here to pick her up. Of course he’s waiting for her already, and of course he’s leaning against a shiny black car that probably cost more than she makes in a year.

  His hair is windswept, he’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and the aviators he has on make him look casually cool, like a heartthrob out of a mid-eighties coming-of-age flick.

  It takes everything Amber has in her not to swoon.

  She pulls her suitcase to the front door. She left Sasha with strict instructions to not get drunk in the bath and a request to sleep in her bed instead of taking the sofa. She has everything she could possibly need this weekend, so there’s nothing left to do but get in the car and get this weekend over with.

  When Chase sees her coming, he quickly jogs over and takes her suitcase. “You look beautiful,” he says. “Ready to go?”

  “Yep.”

  He opens her door for her, and after he loads her suitcase into the trunk and slides into the driver’s side, he pulls out into traffic and they’re on their way.

  Chapter Six

  Stuck in gridlock on northbound I-95, Chase taps his fingers against the steering wheel as he becomes increasingly irritated. He rarely drives outside of the city, and when he does, he times it so that he avoids traffic as much as he can. He has a driver in the city, so he mostly channels his impatience into productivity by answering emails and listening in on conference calls when he’s stuck in congestion there.

  He stews in the rising tide of annoyance, planning out an alternative itinerary where they would’ve left before noon, stopped for a nice lunch somewhere and gotten in some sightseeing on their way through Connecticut.

  Then it hits him that the day he was planning would be considered a date. The distinction doesn’t seem to matter much at this point. From the moment he picked Amber up, this trip has felt like a long weekend he’d take with a girlfriend, not an assistant. Before traffic hit a standstill, occasionally he’d look over and catch a glimpse of her hair blowing in the breeze through the open window and want to reach out and take her hand. Occasionally they smile at each other in the comfortable silence. Their relationship is unlike anything he’s ever had with another woman before.

  Chase shakes his head at himself. The deeper he gets, the more of a sap he becomes.

  After another minute or two at a standstill, he picks up his phone, hoping to find an alternate route so they can pull off the highway.

  “You can take the exit right after this next one,” Amber says, turning in his direction and giving him that look she always gets when she guesses what he’s thinking.

  “I wasn’t looking for a shortcut,” he challenges.

  “Yes you were,” she says, smiling. “I know you’re impatient, and I know you didn’t think traffic would be this bad because you rarely leave town on the weekend, but when you do, you schedule your trip to avoid it. And when I mentioned that the traffic this time of day was going to be bad, you said you didn’t care, which means you didn’t know what you were getting into. So, naturally you’re looking for a way out of it, and I’m telling you…take the exit after the next one.”

  She returns to her position staring out the window, and he can see the reflection of her triumphantly gorgeous smile.

  Chase shifts in his seat, because he’s weirdly turned on in this moment. She always keeps him on his toes.

  “I knew what I was getting into,” he tells her. “But I didn’t care, because if I’m gonna sit in traffic, I want to sit in it with you. You were right about me being impatient, though.”

  She laughs, a blush coloring her cheeks. “Don’t I know it.”

  “Did you look up the route before we left?” He’s impressed that she hasn’t pulled out her phone once since they got on the road.

  “No, I just know my way around here.”

  Chase knows she grew up in the city, but excursions out this way are pretty common for Ne
w York parents. Sometimes kids need open spaces and a ton of grass to run around in.

  As if some cosmic force takes pity on him, the lane they’re in starts moving, and they make it to the exit ramp faster than he expected.

  Amber guides him through a series of backroads from memory, past small suburban subdivisions and down a few two-lane roads. There isn’t a hint of the kind of traffic they just left behind in this area.

  “You hungry?” she asks.

  They haven’t passed a restaurant in miles, but he’s curious about what she has in mind. “I could eat.”

  She smiles as she directs him through an intersection, and a couple of turns later, they wind up near a small inlet. On the east side of it sits a gravel parking lot that’s absolutely packed with cars. A crowd gathers around the front of a small shack that’s backed up to the water. There’s a rickety sign on top of the building that boasts the best lobster rolls on the entire eastern seaboard.

  Chase doesn’t know if he’d buy that if it weren’t for the crowd swarming.

  He and Amber get out of the car and walk toward the lone empty picnic bench in the sea full of families eating their meals. Chase takes a seat at Amber’s instruction.

  “There’s a lady that’s going to come around selling drinks,” she explains with all the seriousness she possesses when she’s addressing the boardroom. “You have to get two large lemonades with extra ice and a red straw, okay? This is very important to the whole experience. Not a red and white striped straw. A red straw.”

  He laughs, but she raises her brow to let him know that this is crucial. “A red straw. Got it.”

  “This place?” she says, pointing toward the shack. “Has the best lobster you’ll ever eat.”

  “Why didn’t you mention wanting to come here before?”

  She shrugs. “It was a last-minute impulse decision. What’s not an impulse decision is that I’m going to get two rolls. Do you want fries or onion rings?”

  “Surprise me,” he says. He reaches for his wallet, but she shakes her head. “Absolutely not. You can get the drinks, dinner is on me.”

  After five years, he knows better than to argue with her. He winks at her before she walks off to order, and watches her as she walks away because her ass looks fabulous in that dress.

  The drink lady shows up not too long after. When she asks him what he wants, he tells her, “Two large lemonades with extra ice and red straws. I’m told red straws are very important.”

  Drink Lady laughs as she fills up the cups, and once she’s moved on to the next table, he taps the straws on the table to get them out of the paper, then slips them through the holes in the lids.

  When Amber returns, she’s holding a ticket in her hand with a number on it.

  “So,” he says, resting his arms on the table as she sits down. “How does this work exactly?”

  She playfully rolls her eyes. “You’re such a sheltered rich guy sometimes. When it’s ready, they’re going to call our number and I’ll go and pick up the tray from the window. It’s this newfangled thing called self-service. I’m guessing you’ve never heard of it.”

  He leans in closer to her. “No, just people feeding me with silver spoons from dishes on silver platters.”

  “Just silver, not gold?”

  He shakes his head. “Gold is too tacky.”

  Their number gets called, and before Amber can get up, Chase swipes the ticket out of her hand and goes up to the counter to get their food. He grabs some napkins and forks, then makes his way back to the table.

  He serves Amber, then takes his food for himself.

  “You have to take a sip of the lemonade first,” she tells him. “It’s tradition.”

  “I wouldn’t want to break tradition,” he says before drinking. He has to keep himself from wincing. That’s probably more sugar than he’s had in a month.

  “Delicious, huh?”

  He nods, not wanting to say anything. He takes a fry as a palate cleanser, then starts on the lobster. Amber takes a bite of hers, and lets out a moan that goes right to his groin. It’s that flight to Barcelona all over again, only this time they’re in public.

  Chase takes a bite of his roll, and the moaning is the appropriate reaction. It’s amazing.

  “How did you find out about this place?” he asks, wondering how many other hidden gems she’s keeping inside her.

  “My dad used to bring Sasha, Tom and me here when we were younger. There used to be a water park a few miles down the road. He’d drop us all off there for the day, and if we hadn’t caused each other bodily harm by the time he picked us up, we’d stop by for dinner on our way home.”

  She never talks about her father. All Chase knows about him is that he hasn’t been in the picture for years. She’s only mentioned him in passing, and not in a good way. Chase understood that whatever their relationship is, that it isn’t a good one.

  “This,” he says, pointing at his meal, “is excellent behavioral incentive.”

  She nods, and Chase senses her demeanor shifting. He’s always taken his cues from her and never presses her, but she’s never bought him up like this before. He feels like she might be ready to open up about it.

  “It was,” she says. “Tom would take turns riding on the waterslides with us, because most of the rafts were two seaters. He’d go up with Sasha, and once they were done, he’d go up with me. Dad would always slip him a twenty so he could buy us these things called Wave World Sweet Freezes. Vanilla and raspberry ice cream swirled together. They were my favorite things in the world; I was devastated when the park closed just because that was the only place you could get them. Sasha didn’t care about them so much, but the threat of not getting one was enough to keep me in line. Then, when Dad would pick us up, he’d ask Tom, ‘Do the munchkins deserve a treat?’”

  Chase lets out a huff of a laugh at the tenor of Amber’s voice.

  “He never narc-ed on us. Even if we were brats, he’d tell dad we deserved a treat.”

  “He probably wanted one of these rolls.”

  She laughs. “Probably.”

  “Why didn’t your dad stay with you?”

  “Well,” Amber says, popping a fry into her mouth as she picks at her lobster. “He would tell us that he was off doing work stuff, or that he was planning a surprise for Mom.”

  Chase gets the distinct feeling based on the way this conversation is going that he wasn’t off doing work stuff or planning a surprise.

  “I’m guessing that’s not what he was doing?”

  Amber snorts. “Oh, he was working on a surprise for Mom all right. For a couple years it was Rita, then Suzanne, then Lizzie, then Marnie, then…who knows. Mom came home one day, and…surprise!”

  Ah, hell. He should’ve seen that one coming. Growing up in the upper echelon of New York society, he’d seen his fair share of second, third, even fourth wives. He’s never been naive about how those marriages came to be, or how the ones before them ended.

  And then it happened to her sister, too. Damn.

  “Amber,” he says, reaching out and taking her hand. “I’m sorry. We didn’t have to come here.”

  Amber squeezes his fingers, then promptly lets them go. “It was my idea,” she says with a genuine smile. “I don’t have a car, so I don’t get out here very often. I haven’t been here in years. We were passing by, and I figured, why not? No time like the present to replace a bad memory with a good one.”

  “And how’d that work out?”

  “Pretty well.” She picks up her lobster roll and speaks directly to it. “I’m so sorry I stayed away from you for so long, my sweet.”

  Chase laughs as she takes a bite. “Maybe I’ll start using this as behavioral incentive.”

  Amber’s eyes go wide. “That’s cruel. Although I guess it’s also kinda genius, because I’d do pretty much anything to get my hands on one of these.”

  Chase raises a brow. “Anything?”

  She slowly licks a dollop of mayonnaise off t
he corner of her mouth. He watches as her tongue slides across her shiny pink lips, and his mind wanders. He thinks about what those lips taste like, what they’d feel like on his.

  “Anything,” she says, her voice low and dripping with promise. Then a long, charged beat passes, and she goes back to her lemonade like nothing happened.

  Chase resists the urge to drop his head in his hands and groan.

  This is going to be one long, long weekend.

  Amber’s going to stretch his crumbling willpower to its limits.

  Chase looks forward to the challenge.

  The second half of the trip to the Pearson compound is more pleasant than the first. There’s no traffic, and since they’re no longer sitting still, Amber rolled the windows down again. She’s smiling, holding her hand out the window and moving it in waves against the oncoming wind.

  “Are you nervous about this weekend?” Chase asks. He wants to know, but he also avoided asking her about it in fear that examining her feelings about the whole thing would make her change her mind.

  “Why would I be nervous?” she asks, her hair whipping around her face. “The company coming out of this smart wearables mess depends solely on my ability to make someone who hates you like me enough to stop hating you, or at least be willing to enter into a business agreement with you. Then there’s the added pressure of not wanting to fail you personally…I’m cool as a cucumber, baby.”

  She winks at him, adding a little bit of needed levity to the comment.

  Chase knows he’s asking a lot of her, but he also knows that she’s up to the task. She knows him better than anyone else does—even his best friend—and if anyone could convince Pearson that Chase is the kind of person that he’d want to do business with, it’s Amber.

  A little bit of reassurance might help her.

  “You know I won’t be disappointed in you if this doesn’t work out, right?”

  Amber gives him a disbelieving look, and he supposes he can’t blame her. For the longest time, his business has been his life, and he knows it’s hard for her to believe that everything isn’t riding on this weekend’s success.