A Billionaire Between the Sheets (28 page)

“Watching a woman pleasure herself while you sit in the dark really isn't all that deviant.” She scooted closer. “I'm sure a lot of men would want to do the same thing if they had the money.”

His laughter wasn't filled with humor as much as derision. “Really.”

“Okay, so maybe they would want to do more than watch.” They also wouldn't worry about being seen. She squinted. Was he ugly? Disfigured? A pitiful Elephant Man shunned by society? The questions swirled around in her head. “Why the dark?” she asked. “Are you afraid that women won't find you attractive? Because that shouldn't be a concern. Unlike men, women aren't hung up on physical looks. And with all the dating sites, you should have no trouble whatsoever finding a companion.”

“The problem isn't finding a companion.”

She thought for a moment until the truth dawned on her. “Oh. I'm sorry. But look on the bright side. They have medicine for that now. One little pill and things are looking up. And you shouldn't be afraid to tell a doctor. Lots of people suffer from it. Even me.”

“What?”

Eden's face filled with heat. She had never shared this information with anyone and didn't know why she did now. But since it was out, she continued in hopes that if she shared her truths, he'd share more of his. “I don't know if it's called impotency with women, but it runs along the same lines. I've never experienced an orgasm.” She gestured as she talked, something she did when she was nervous or trying to get a point across. “Weird but true. And I don't think it's a physical problem as much as a mental one. I just have other things besides orgasms to concentrate on right now. Although I have faked a few. Men seem to get very depressed if you don't make them think they're good in bed.”

There was a long stretch of silence before the light clicked off. Eden barely had time to tense before her dress was slipped over her head and she was effortlessly lifted her to her feet.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“It's time for you to leave.” With a hand on the small of her back, he pushed her toward the door.

“But—” Before Eden could finish, she was standing outside the closed bedroom door, listening to the click of the lock. Obviously faked orgasms had been the wrong subject for an escort to bring up.

A
few hours later, Cassie wasn't sure if she looked festive or like a desperate hooker. The dress was a
shirt
with a hem and neckline that ran at opposite angles, showing off her right shoulder and a whole lot of left thigh. The “few little Christmas gifts” Amy had left included a strapless bra that shoved her boobs together and a satiny pair of panties that covered very little of the front and none of the back. Then there were the shoes, which weren't shoes at all, but some kind of torture chambers that imprisoned her feet in skinny, crisscrossed red straps that ran from ankle to toes and kept her feet from sliding off the skyscraper spiked heels. Mike would have drooled over these puppies, she thought. Not that his size thirteens would've fit in them.

The entire ensemble made Cassie feel like a tall, flashing red light that said something like
SEX FOR SALE; COME AND GET IT
or
DESPERATE, SEX-STARVED WOMAN NEEDS BREAK FROM SHOWER NOZZLE
.

But Cassie didn't have much of a choice. Her burgundy dress and shoes had mysteriously disappeared from the executive bathroom. Or not so mysteriously, considering how devious Amy was. Cassie could've gone home and changed, but her escort for the evening was bought and paid for and hopefully on his way to the office to meet her. There was no way she was going to dole out five hundred bucks so some college kid could go home and play video games for the evening.

So Cassie did what she always did in a no-win situation—she went with it, applying more makeup than she normally wore and leaving her hair to fall down her back in long dark waves. The only thing she didn't apply was lipstick. Her lips were full enough without drawing attention to them. She gave her reflection in the mirror one last annoyed look. If this wouldn't degrade and undermine her authority in front of all the employees, nothing would.

On the way back to her office, the phone rang, and since everyone else had left for the night except for Juanita the cleaning lady, Cassie wobbled over to the receptionist's desk and picked up the receiver.

She adjusted it around her dangling diamond earring, the only thing she had planned on wearing, and answered, “M and M Construction.”

“Hi, Mama's angel. I'm glad I caught you.”

“Hi, Mom. What's up?”

“I wanted to let you know that I'm making your father stay home tonight.” In the background, Cassie could hear her father ranting something about how her mother and the damned doctor had ruined all his plans.

“Should I come over?” Cassie sat down on the edge of the desk and examined the last of Amy's gifts, a red beaded clutch purse. She fiddled with the rhinestone latch, trying to figure out how to open it.

“No, sweetheart. He's fine. But if he goes to the party, all he'll do is talk business and Dr. Matheson doesn't think it's a good idea.” This time Cassie heard exactly what her father thought of Doc Matheson. “Listen, dear, I need to go and calm him down. I'll talk to you later. Have fun at the party.”

“Yeah, Mom. I will.” Cassie hung up the phone. Maybe it was best if her father didn't come. If talking business didn't give him another heart attack, her outfit certainly would.

Frustrated with the entire evening so far, she yanked at the latch on the purse. It flipped open, spilling its contents all over the floor. Cassie looked down at the pile of red and black foil-covered condoms surrounding her high heels.

She laughed. “I'll get even with you if it's the last thing I do, Amy Walker.” She squatted down and began to scoop the condoms back into her purse, heedless of her unladylike position.

A deep and very masculine cough had her teetering on her heels and almost falling backward on her butt. Grabbing on to the edge of the desk, she regained her balance and got to her feet. Although the sight that greeted her had her reaching out for the desk again.

A man stood by the Christmas tree in the foyer. Not a man really, more like a vision. The clear lights that twinkled around his dark head made him look like something straight out of a dream. A wet dream. Man, Elite Escorts had outdone themselves this time. This was no gangly college boy in an ill-fitting rental tux, but a mature man in a tuxedo that looked made-to-order for his tall, muscular frame.

Like James Bond right before he bopped a shapely beauty, his bow tie was undone and lay flat against the front pleats of the crisp white shirt that was unbuttoned at his tanned throat. He stood looking at Cassie with a slight smile on his firm lips and one brown brow arched over an eye that was the exact color of her aunt Wheezie's favorite Scotch.

Cassie forgot to breathe.

“Hi.” The smile deepened, along with two dimples. “I didn't mean to spook you.” When Cassie still didn't say anything, the smile dropped and both brows lifted. “Are you okay?”

He walked toward her, and she was reminded of the black panther at the Denver Zoo, his movements sleek and predatory. She swallowed and tried to get her mind off his hot body and back in her head. It was difficult, especially when this wonderful eye candy stood so close and when she and Amy had just been discussing how long it had been since she'd had sex. But hot or not, she needed to remember that this man was one of her employees. She dealt with men all day long. Alpha men. She could handle some pretty boy who worked for an escort service.

She plastered on a smile. “Yes, I'm fine. It's just that you're early.”

The quizzical look remained, and he tugged up the sleeve of his jacket and glanced at a watch that looked an awful lot like her father's Rolex. “No, I'm right on time.”

She waved him off. “It doesn't matter. You're here.” She grabbed the car keys from the desk and brushed past him. He smelled really good, like hot spiced cider and primitive lust. Or was the primitive lust her?

“My truck's down in the parking garage.” She kept talking as she headed toward the elevator. “We'll take it. The party's at a house about thirty minutes away, so it's probably good you got here early.” She pressed the button of the elevator, then turned to steal another peek.

He wasn't there. He still stood at the receptionist's desk, although his head had turned to follow her. Okay, so he looked great, but he was a little slow on the uptake. No wonder he worked for an escort service at his age. The elevator doors opened, and she pointed at them.

“Are you coming?”

He tipped his head to one side. “Who are you?”

Oh, so that was it. She just hadn't introduced herself. She laughed and held the door of the elevator. “I'm Cassie McPherson, your employer for the evening.”

He didn't move. “My employer?”

Back to the mental deficiency theory. She tried talking slowly and clearly. “Yes, I called Elite Escorts and hired you for the evening to take me to my office Christmas party. I paid in advance, so I expect a little service here. Like maybe you getting a move on.”

His whiskey eyes twinkled, but he still didn't move. “You're Cassie McPherson, the daughter of Al McPherson, and you called for a male escort?”

“Right. So are you coming or do I need to get a refund?”

“Your father's not here, I take it?”

“Not that it makes a difference, but no. He's at home.”

He might be a simpleton, but, man, the flash of those white, even teeth and dimples was flat-out sexy. “Then I guess I'm all yours for the evening.” He walked over and reached above her head to hold the elevator door. “Here”—he held up a foil-covered condom—“you forgot one.”

Cassie jerked the condom out of his hand and then nearly fell flat on her face as she stumbled over her feet on the way into the elevator. He reached out and steadied her.

“Easy there.”

The door closed, and he pushed one of the buttons while she rubbed the warm imprint he had left on her arm. Her heart thumped wildly against the tight band of her push-up bra. And suddenly she worried if all her high-cholesterol lunches and lack of exercise were catching up to her and besides inheriting her father's bad disposition, she had also inherited his clogged arteries. She couldn't bring herself to believe that it had anything to do with the man who so casually leaned back against the rail that ran along the wall of the elevator. Cassie McPherson didn't go all weak-kneed over men. Even re-e-e-e-ally good-looking ones who belonged in magazine ads for expensive men's cologne.

She turned away from the hot picture he presented and took two deep breaths, willing her heart to resume its normal cadence. It was hard to do with those eyes pinned on her with such intensity. Hard, but not impossible. She wasn't called Cast-Iron Cassie for nothing. She never let emotions get in the way of business. And this was business.

Clearing her throat, she explained the terms of his employment. “So here's what I expect.” She opened her clutch and dropped in her car keys and the condom. “Keep a low profile. Be attentive, but not clingy. And try not to talk. If you're asked a question about our relationship, simply say that we've just met.”

His eyes narrowed, and one side of his mouth tipped up at the corner. Definitely not a smile, more of a smirk. “How about if I just say that I'm not the kind of man who kisses and tells.”

Heat flooded her cheeks, but she held it together. “Just stick to the plan.”

“It seems you have a lot of plans.” He lifted an eyebrow in the direction of her purse. “I'm not sure I can keep up.”

Cassie ignored the innuendo and stayed on track. “The old relatives are the worst. They'll try to get you to commit to family gatherings and such. Decline gracefully. Don't drink with my aunt Louise. She'll drink you under the table and then interrogate the hell out of you. She looks very sweet, but she's a barracuda.”

The elevator doors slid open, but not at the parking garage. He stepped out and held the door.

“You pushed the wrong button.” She punched L for the lower level. “I'm parked in the garage.”

He took her arm and gently but firmly pulled her out. “I know, but I'm parked right out front. So we can take my car.”

“I'd rather drive,” she stated as she caught the elevator door before it closed.

“But then you'd be escorting me, and that's not what I'm getting paid for.” He caressed the underside of her arm. The tingling sensation caused her to pull away.

She turned on him as the elevator door slid closed. “You're getting paid to follow my orders.”

In her heels, Cassie was only a few inches shorter than he was. So she shouldn't feel intimidated by his size, not with four brothers who were just as tall, if not taller. Yet there was something about this man that had her taking a step back. She wasn't frightened, but she was smart enough to be wary.

“And I bet you're pretty good at giving orders.” He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and tugged her toward the glass doors. “But right now, it's my job to get you to a Christmas party, and I intend to do it. After that, you can order me around all you want to.”

She tried to dig in her heels, but she wasn't exactly stable in the sky-high shoes. The slippery marble floor of the lobby didn't help.

“I like driving,” she stated through clenched teeth as he pulled her along.

“No doubt.” He reached for the large gold handle of the glass door. “But I'm kinda old-fashioned about that. When I take a woman out, I like to drive.”

“You've got to be kidding.”

He glanced down at her. “Nope. Not at all. I don't like women to pay, open doors, or drive.” He shrugged. “Call it a character flaw.” He pulled open the door.

“Obviously, one among many. Let's not forget arrogance and stubbornness.” The toes of her shoes hit the threshold, and he was brought up short. “I want to drive.”

“Ms. McPherson?”

They both turned and stared at the worried face of the security guard who had come up behind them. “Is everything all right?”

Cassie thought about saying no and getting her arrogant, stubborn escort tossed out on his ear. But then she wouldn't have a date for the evening and would have to suffer through all the wives feeling sorry for her and trying to hook her up with some desperate relative. Of course, how much more desperate could you get than hiring an escort for the evening?

She stopped pulling away. “Of course. Everything is fine, Scotty. How is that new baby of yours?”

The tension left Scotty's face, and he grinned. “As cute as they come. Although he's not so cute when he keeps me up on my nights off.”

“He'll outgrow it. My nieces and nephews all did.”

“I hope so.” Scotty moved over to the door. “Let me get that for you, sir.”

“Thank you.” Her escort flashed Scotty one of his megawatt smiles. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, sir.” Scotty nodded at her. “Ms. McPherson.”

The frigid air hit Cassie like an ice-cold fist in the face. With it came the realization that she'd forgotten her coat. She stopped dead in her tracks. And her wallet. And her cell phone. The wallet she could live without, but she never went anywhere without her phone. It was her lifeline. How could she have forgotten it?

She glanced at the man who turned to look at her, and a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold raced through her body. Great! Now, all because of some pretty face, she was freezing her posterior off with nothing in her purse but her car keys and a gross amount of condoms.

She tried to pull her hand away, and this time he released it. “I forgot my—” Before she could finish her sentence a heat-infused tuxedo jacket slid over her shoulders, along with a very possessive arm. The warmth that enveloped her melted the rest of her resistance.

Maybe she could go one night without her cell phone.

“This way.” He led her right out to the street, where a brand-new black Land Rover was parked in the no-parking zone. The locks clicked, and he opened the door and waited for her to slip inside. Once the door closed, Cassie was surrounded by the spicy scent that emanated from his jacket and overcome by a feeling that could be described only as… feminine.