Bedding The Billionaire (6 page)

Nick didn't like being refused. He glared at her with
a look that usually withered his opposition across a boardroom table. She
didn't flinch. She glared right back.

"Guess it's back to travel again, then," he
said in attempt to clear the air.

She nodded stiffly and sat back in her seat. She
looked flustered. Good. He liked knowing he'd at least achieved that reaction
from her, since she'd already succeeded in getting him to lose his self-control
last night. It was only fair.

"Antarctica," he said. "That's the one
place I don't want to go. Too cold."

Abbey's sour mood melted and she laughed, a throaty
laugh that bubbled up from deep within. God, it was fantastic the way she threw
back her head and put her heart into her laugh. He'd never met anyone who
enjoyed his conversation so much. It was a novel experience
—
and
kind of satisfying too.

"Way too cold for me too," she said. "I
prefer the heat."

"Then you'd be happy today."

"Well, today was exceptional, even by Melbourne's
standards. Although I do like it like this. It reminds me of summers by the
pool or down the beach when I was a kid."

Her voice drifted off dreamily. Nick could picture
her, sitting on a beach in a large straw hat and bikini.

A small, white bikini that revealed her rosy nipples
when she emerged from the water.

He swallowed and glanced at Abbey. She was grinning at
him. Damn it, how did she know what he was thinking?

"I take it from that look on your face that you
like the beach too?" Her eyes danced mischievously.

He nodded and shifted in his seat. Bad move. His
erection rubbed against his thighs and the movement made him bigger, harder.

"Are you ready to order, sir, madam?"

A short, balding waiter stood at Nick's side, handed
them a menu each then scuttled away. Nick was grateful for the distraction.

"The seafood's great here," said Abbey.

He peered over his menu. "You've eaten here
before?" Yet another surprise
—
Abbey didn't seem like the
right sort of clientele.

"Many times." She suddenly dropped her menu.
He momentarily caught her gaze in his and held it before she glanced away. She
shrugged casually. Too casually. "Once or twice a long time ago. I can't
afford this sort of place anymore." Her face disappeared behind her menu
again.

She was a mystery this one. A real mystery.

They ordered and continued sipping wine and chatting. The
evening was turning into quite a pleasant one, and he was surprised at how
easily he could talk to Abbey. And laugh with her.

She asked him about Sydney, and he saw no reason not
to tell her which restaurants he liked. She seemed eager to hear about the best
galleries in town, something else he wasn't expecting. When he asked her what
sort of art she liked, hoping to catch her out, she quickly rattled off some of
her favorites.

"Actually, any of the French Impressionists. Which
is why I want to visit Paris." She smiled. "The Musée d'Orsay has a
fabulous collection, so I hear."

He smiled back, genuinely pleased with her answer. "You
know, I didn't think masseurs were the type of people to go to art
galleries."

He thought he saw her flinch but it was covered
quickly by a defiant toss of her head. "You shouldn't judge a book by its
cover."

Nick's gut tightened. She was right, he wasn't being fair.
But he was damned if he was going to apologize. Nick Delaware was not the sort
of man to apologize to a hooker for thinking she was out of place in an art
gallery. And he'd best remember that before he got carried away by this woman's
charm.

Their meals arrived, saving him from making any
further comments, or apologies. They ate in silence, broken only by occasional
chatter. Once their plates were collected, Abbey checked her watch.

"Time to go?" As soon as he said it, Nick
cringed. He didn't want to appear too eager to get back to the hotel. On the
other hand, he didn't want to appear too casual either, in case she decided he
wasn't interested enough. Damn it, this woman was tying his brain into knots
—
he
needed to regain his control, and fast.

"Nearly," she said with a cheeky smile.

Their coffees arrived and he stirred in a spoonful of
sugar. He was replacing the spoon on the saucer when he felt something at his
crotch. He jumped, bumping the table, splashing coffee into the saucer.

He glanced up at Abbey to see if she'd noticed, and
was met with a wicked smile. Again something touched him, and this time he
didn't jump. He knew what it was
—
Abbey's bare toes.

Thank God for long tablecloths.

The toes moved around his bulge, feeling, prodding,
stroking. She was extremely dexterous, because her toes caught his zip and
slowly began pulling it down.

He gasped and a hot rush of blood flooded his face. He
swallowed and looked at Abbey. She was no longer smiling but concentrating on
her task. She stared straight back at him, boldly, and that only made him more
excited.

The toes ducked into his open trousers and rubbed his
erection, only the thin fabric of his shorts between his flesh and hers. The
pain and pleasure was excruciating. He wanted to take himself out of the shorts
and let her have free reign but common sense told him not to be ridiculous. What
if someone came over? He shouldn't have let it get this far. He shouldn't be
doing this. He shouldn't...oh, what the Hell, it felt too good to stop now.

Nick closed his eyes and let the sensations course
through his body. He heard someone moan
—
himself?
—
and
bent his head forward.

She felt good. Damn good. Her toes stroked, an endless
circular motion that quickened his pulse. He sat forward on his seat, bringing
himself closer to her foot.

She had managed to get his trousers even wider apart
and she was massaging him, up and down the hard length caught inside his
shorts. It pleaded with him to be released from its tight prison. As it grew
and expanded, he had no choice
—
he reached under the tablecloth,
not totally aware of what he was doing, and fumbled the button on his shorts.

His erection sprung out, and he heard Abbey gasp. He
looked up at her and the lust in her eyes told him she was enjoying this as
much as he was. Both her hands were below the table and he wondered whether she
was touching herself.

The thought that she might be made him harder, hotter.

Her toes caressed him, lightly at first then, as if
detecting his need, she rubbed her foot against the base before caressing the
shaft all the way to the tip. The movement made him pant.

"Abbey!"

The angry voice above him sent a jolt through Nick. The
foot suddenly stopped rubbing and he heard a quick intake of breath from Abbey.
He looked up, trying to control his breathing, and stared straight into the
eyes of a man.

Jealous eyes.

The man glanced from him to Abbey.

"Tarken!" She stared wide-eyed up at the
newcomer. "What the Hell are you doing here?" There was frustration
in her voice, but no indication on her face of what she'd just been doing under
the table. Nick hoped he looked just as composed.

"Having dinner. Who's he?" The man, Tarken,
jerked his thumb in Nick's direction.

"None of your business."

"None of my business? Abbey, come on, I
—
"

"She said it's none of your business," said Nick,
keeping his voice low. "Now leave."

He hoped Tarken didn't have enough guts to challenge
him. Nick couldn't get up
—
he was still protruding from his shorts.

Tarken rounded on him, a challenge in his eyes. "Who
do you think you are, ordering me around?"

Nick drummed his fingers on the table. Who the hell
was this arrogant S.O.B.? And how dare he speak to a woman that way. How dare
he speak to him, Nick Delaware, that way!

"Who are you?" Nick countered.

"Abbey's boyfriend."

Nick felt like something was pressing down on his
chest. Abbey had a boyfriend? And it was this idiot?

The man, Tarken, was dressed in casual but expensive
pants and a Ralph Lauren shirt; his hair tousled in an overly styled boy-band
way. He supposed many women would consider him a good looking man with his dark
blonde hair and square jaw. He definitely didn't look like a pimp. Not that Nick
knew what a pimp looked like. Maybe he really was her boyfriend.

"You are
not
my boyfriend!" said Abbey,
her eyes spitting blue sparks in Tarken's direction. "You seem to have
forgotten that I found you kissing Melinda yesterday. She told me you'd slept
together while I was away. And I seem to recall telling you that we were
through when I handed in my resignation."

Even in the dark restaurant, Nick could see Tarken's
face had flushed.

"I think you should leave," said Nick
quietly, deliberately. Damn, he couldn't get up. He needed a distraction. "Waiter!"
The waiter was immediately at his side. "This man is bothering us."

Tarken's eyes widened and his face suddenly slackened.
"I was just leaving. I've lost my appetite anyway."

Nick watched as Tarken rushed out of the restaurant
without even glancing back at Abbey. When the eyes of the other patrons finally
diverted, Nick discretely zipped his fly. He glanced across the table at Abbey
but she was looking down at her empty plate.

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded but didn't look up. "Sorry about
that," she muttered. "I didn't mean to cause a scene."

"You didn't. He did." Nick drew in a deep
breath, feeling more in control now that he was no longer in such a vulnerable
position with his fly open. He reached across and touched Abbey's arm, folded
in front of her on the table. She looked up at him. Her eyes were moist. She
looked incredibly lost. Small. He just wanted to take her in his arms and hold
her, kiss her. Tell her everything was okay because he'd take care of her.

Nick shook his head to dismiss the ridiculous
thoughts. Taking care of a hooker was not on his agenda for the week. What
was
coming over him? Melbourne was having such a strange affect on his behavior. Or
maybe it was the heat.

Banishing all possessive thoughts, Nick straightened. There
was something he wanted to know. "So, is he your boyfriend?"

"Not any more."

"He cheated on you with someone called Melinda?"

She nodded and turned away.

"He's a fool. If I were him, I wouldn't let such
a beautiful woman like you go."

Her head snapped up. Her eyes bore into his but he was
damned if he was going to look away. Nick Delaware never looked away first.

He didn't know why he'd said that. It had just tumbled
out of his mouth. If he weren't careful, he'd turn into a soft romantic. He
swallowed, Abbey's direct gaze unnerving him with its penetration. Finally,
thankfully, she wavered and glanced away.

Nick let out a long breath. He should
not
have
said that. The last thing he wanted to do was give Abbey the wrong idea. He
didn't want to encourage her. This wasn't
Pretty Woman
. He had to
remember she was a just a hooker. That Tarken guy may not look like a pimp, but
that didn't mean he wasn't one. Although he was no longer Abbey's by the sounds
of it.

Nick frowned, recalling something Abbey had said. Since
when did hooker's hand in resignations?

"Abbey, when you said you handed in your
resignation, what did you mean?"

She glanced up at him. He thought he saw amusement
flicker through her eyes before they returned to their usual intense blue.

She held up her hand. "No more questions. Not
about Tarken, okay?"

Nick blinked. "Now wait a minute. I deserve
—
"

"Let's get out of here," she said quickly. Ready?"

He would have pursued the issue of the resignation and
Tarken, except those words made him forget everything except the touch of
Abbey's toes.

He signaled the waiter, paid the bill and stood.

"Let's go."

Abbey followed Nick outside where it was still warm,
despite the sun's disappearance over an hour ago. She felt strangely relieved
to be out of the restaurant, where a surprisingly pleasant meal had turned sour
with Tarken's unexpected arrival. Of all the restaurants to choose, he chose
that one!

She hadn't thought of Tarken all day, and with the
game of footsies under the table, she'd been caught with her pants down. Well,
Damien had.

It annoyed her that she'd gotten upset over Tarken's
appearance, and his demand. Not because she wanted Tarken to see her like that,
but because she didn't want Damien to see her as anything less than composed
and in control.

Damien Vane was a no-nonsense, straight down the line,
man. He didn't seem like the type of guy to want a flighty female in his bed,
which was exactly where she wanted to be.