Lazer Focused: A Jet City Billionaire Romance (The Billionaire Matchmaker Series Book 1) (9 page)

"That's what I said—delicious."

"Don't tell me you're the kind of guy who flirts with delivery girls and waitresses?"

"Only if they're wearing essence of bacon. Paris perfumeries should learn how to bottle it."

Crap, I liked the way he bantered with me. Some men were so deathly dull. Even among my clients. It was so rare to find one who knew how to flirt so well and had a sense of humor that matched mine.

I grinned at him and rattled the bag I'd brought. "I'm guessing you haven't had breakfast yet?"

"You're a mind reader. I just got out of the shower."

I saw that only too well. His hair was still damp and sexily finger-combed. He smelled like hotel soap and expensive aftershave. His skin had that soft, freshly scrubbed glow that made me want to run my fingers over him and simply delight in it.

"I get that a lot. I'm good at anticipating needs."

Where had this flirty Ashley come from? It was as if she'd sprung up from a long, dark sleep and now couldn't be restrained. At least not in his presence. With heart pounding and fingers dying to touch him. An inner voice was trying to get my attention.
Just walk away, Ashley. He'll only break your heart.

I ignored it.

"I come bearing the best bagel breakfast sandwiches in the city and, better yet, fresh New York coffee. It's always best to negotiate on a full stomach. I find people are so much more agreeable after they've eaten."

The coffee was decaf, but he didn't need to know that. You didn't think I was going to give away my advantage, did you?

"Negotiate?" He arched an eyebrow and nodded toward the folder I carried.

"You're too savvy a businessman to lead with your best and final offer. Which is why I'm warming you up with bacon." I winked at him.

His grin was infectious as he took the coffee tray and bag from me. His hotel room was a suite with a sitting room, bar, and conference table, and separate bedroom. I ignored the rumpled bed as we walked past the open bedroom door to the table. But I couldn't keep my pulse from racing.

He set the food on a round conference table near the windows and a spectacular view of the Empire State Building in one direction and Times Square in the other. "Negotiating on a full stomach makes your opposition more agreeable. Huh. That explains business dinners, is that your theory?"

I smiled. "Business dinners are all about impressing the other party, bribery with food, and establishing social capital. Kind of like dating. In the end, rather than expecting sex as payment, the other party expects your business."

"Interesting theory. What are you expecting to get from me?"

"A fantastic deal."

He took a seat next to me, close enough that I was too aware of him and we could each admire the view. Though I found the view of him more thrilling than that of the city. I had a moment of doubt. What was I doing? Was this good business or simply madness? I almost chickened out, not trusting my motives. Business hardly seemed part of what I was about to do.

I handed him a cup of coffee, a bagel, and a napkin, and took one each for myself, watching as he unwrapped his sandwich and grinned adorably.

"It's still hot," he said.

"Would I bring you a cold sandwich?" I grinned back at him. "That's just bad business. Taste it. It's even better than it smells." I unwrapped mine, watching as he took a bite.

His eyes rolled back. He sighed. "You're right. We don't have bagels like this in Seattle."

"Watch what you say if you don't want to scare me away!" I laughed. "How will I live without my morning bagel?"

We made small talk while we ate, saying nothing at all, really. But everything. It was a rare thing to be able to make small talk comfortably with someone you barely knew.

When he was finished with his sandwich, he balled the wrapper and tossed it in the bag I'd brought it in. To be perfectly honest, I was having a hard time eating. I was simply too nervous about what I was about to do.

I set my half-eaten bagel down, and spread the file I'd brought open before us with considerable care.

"Right down to business?" His eyes met mine.

I admired his prowess. He managed to imbue a simple question with a promise of something much more tantalizing.

"Didn't I tell you? This is a working breakfast." I reached for my purse on the table—my bumblebee always gave me confidence—and pulled a pen out. The very same pen I'd used to sign my first client. So, okay, maybe I was a bit superstitious. Or maybe I just liked things with happy memories and success attached to them and hoped they'd bring more good karma with them.

I pulled a stack of my standard client contracts from the folder. I set them before him, twirled the pen in my fingers, and laid it before him with a flourish. "Before we discuss further details of your offer, I require a written contract with each of my clients."

I tapped the set of documents. "It's pretty standard, laying out the number of matches I've agreed to for the price. In this case, unlimited matches for a period of one year, at which time the contract can be renewed. It lists the price we've agreed upon. It's spelled out there." I pointed to a line in the contract that was on top.

"I have few other rules. But I need to be up-front about them. Number one, I'm not a madam or a pimp. Clients who sexually harass or force themselves on a match will be let go immediately. All fees forfeited. And the proper authorities notified.

"To be perfectly clear, I'm the opposite of a madam. I'm not slaking lust. I'm finding true love for my clients. I strongly encourage all my clients to abstain from sexual relations until a minimum of five dates. Better yet, as long as possible and until they are exclusive with each other."

He watched me carefully and took the pen from me. "Shouldn't be a problem for my guys. They're good guys."

"Good," I said.

"Anything else?"

"No two-timing me." I'd been burned by this before.

"What?"

"Call me a jealous bitch. But what's mine is mine. My men. And my clients. No working with another matchmaker while you're working with me. You'd think that would be obvious, but I've had clients try it. Again, if I find out about it, you again forfeit all fees. I don't take kindly to being cheated on."

Our gazes met and held.

"Seems fair enough." He glanced at the contract on top.

"If you find a match you'd like to pursue exclusively or start seeing someone I haven't set you up with, I'm happy to put the contract on hold while you see if you can make a go of the relationship."

He nodded. "Anything else?"

"Usually clients sign for themselves. In this case, the general contract is between you and me. Since I didn't know the legal names of the men I'll be matchmaking for, I've laid out in the contract that I will provide matchmaking services for four men to be named by you, and that you agree to vouch for them. Each of the men will be informed of my terms of conduct and expected to sign them at a later date."

"Sounds reasonable." He skimmed through the top contract.

"Read over it at your leisure," I said, repeating his words to me. "Have your lawyer look it over, if you like."

He was absorbed in reading the contract, but he looked up and grinned. "That won't be necessary. This looks pretty straightforward."

He flipped through the remaining few pages of the contract and looked up at me in confusion when he came to a second, paper-clipped contract beneath it. His brow furrowed. He looked up at me. "What the hell is this?"

"Negotiation. My one condition for working with you. I want you to be the new venture's first, and highest-profile, client." My heart was pounding so loudly I was almost certain they could hear it in New Jersey. But somehow I kept the nervous tremble out of my voice. This was my deal breaker. The one thing I wouldn't budge on.

His face clouded. "You're fucking kidding, right? You want
me
to sign up for your matchmaking services?"

A
shley

I steeled my nerves and shook my head, trying not to let him see how much I wanted this deal. I had to clasp my hands together so he couldn't see how badly I was trembling. It would have been so easy to cave. Just give up this one crazy demand. And lose his business respect, and one chance with him, forever. Maybe that would have been better. But I was stubborn.

"I am," I said, relieved that my voice didn't tremble with either excitement or fear. I certainly felt both in damning measures. I was on the precipice of getting everything I wanted. And everything I feared. Or nothing at all, which was equally frightening.

I smiled as sweetly and seductively as possible. Smile. Always smile. Men find it so hard to resist.

"At absolutely no charge." I practically cooed the words. I lowered my voice to a whisper. "And if you ever tell
anyone
I gave you a freebie, I will make your dating life hell from now to eternity.

"I have a premium brand reputation to maintain. People pay highly for my services. It's a steal, Lazer. A limited-time, one-time offer you'd be crazy to refuse."

His eyes narrowed, but at the same time danced with the excitement of the game. For a second before he masked his expression, it looked like he was about to shove the paperwork back at me.

I stared silently into his eyes, wondering how to play this. What kind of a man was he? I knew how to handle many different personalities. We sat staring at each other to see who'd blink first. Finally, I gave in, strategically. "What's your hesitation? You must see that what I'm proposing is absolutely sound business practice."

He looked at me quizzically.

I took a deep breath. "If we're going to launch the Seattle office successfully, and push this new model for matchmaking, we're going to need a carrot. Something to get women to sign up in droves. Women in a city where they feel they have the upper hand and would ordinarily laugh in our faces for suggesting such a crazy service to them. If we don't give them a damn enticing carrot and dangle it in front of them on a beautiful stick, why would they sign up?"

I leaned into him and lowered my voice to a near whisper. "Without a pool of women, we're sunk. We'll have no paying male customers. The men have to have confidence that we have a big enough match pool to draw from and the money they're spending will be well worth it. We're not charging pennies here. The app is for those who can't afford our full range of services."

I smiled into his eyes, trying to read his thoughts. I covered his hand with mine, squeezing reassuringly as I began gently stroking his ego. "Seattle's Hottest Bachelor.
Twice
. Voted consistently as one of Seattle's most beautiful people. A billionaire. With you in the pool, how can the women resist signing up?" I practically blew in his ear.

He set his jaw. The air between us grew thick with tension.

I read his face—it was now or never if I wanted to win him over. Convince him or lose the deal.

"It's just a publicity stunt, Lazer. You don't have to really look for a wife. You go out on a few public dates with women I've matched you with. Beautiful, fun, intelligent women carefully hand-selected for you. You date just as often or little as you want. But a minimum of enough to show the women of Seattle that it's a possibility they'll win the dating lotto and get to go out. Every woman dreams of being the match for a billionaire. You know the old saying, 'It's just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor one.'

"Think of it!" I couldn't hide my excitement now. "We'll have women tripping over themselves to sign up."

"Will we?" His voice was deep, but neutral.

I kept smiling. "We will, I assure you. And I give you my word that you'll always have an out.

"If dating gets too tedious for you, you get 'too busy' to go out on matches. You hang with the agency for just long enough for us to get enough successful matches under our belts that we can tout our legitimate successes and ride on them. When we don't need your celebrity anymore, you quietly bow out. If that's what you want. There's really no commitment from you other than a small amount of time."

The corners of his mouth curled up slowly. He inched his face even closer to mine. We were right up in each other's faces. Just a hairsbreadth away from each other.

"You have a beautiful mind," he said in a deep, lovely voice. "You're just as devious and ambitious as I am."

I matched his grin. "Is that a compliment?"

"The highest."

"Then thank you." I nodded toward the paperwork again, nudging him to sign.

"What else do you want? Is this
all
you're asking for?" He scrutinized me. I couldn't tell if he was surprised or egging me on. "No other demands? More money? A different profit split? More ownership of the company?"

I held his gaze. "I led with my sticking point. Sign this contract and we have a deal. Any other little detail we disagree on can easily be worked out." I held my breath, my pulse quickening with excitement.

For an instant I thought he was going to close the gap between our lips and kiss me. I almost closed my eyes in anticipation of it.

He abruptly pushed back and crossed the room to grab a hotel pen from next to the phone. When he returned to the table, he quickly leafed through the paperwork in the folder until he found the contract he'd given me yesterday. He pushed it in front of me and held the cheap pen out to me. "Let's sign together,
partner
."

I grabbed the pen. "My pleasure."

We each signed our respective contracts with half an eye on the other. I was trying not to smile or whoop with victory. Maybe I should have been more cautious. I'd either just gotten what I'd always wanted. Or signed up for utter destruction and heartbreak.

We swapped contracts and repeated the process. When we were finished, we stared into each other's eyes with startling intimacy.

He took my hand in his and leaned forward to whisper to me. "Now that we've finished our business…" He lifted the hair from my neck, cupped my head, and leaned in to kiss me.

It took every ounce of willpower I had to say the words I'd rehearsed in my mind since I'd gotten the insane idea to accept this deal. "I'm sorry, Lazer. I don't sleep with clients. It's just bad business. It's in the contract you just signed."

He leaned back and studied me intently, slowly grinning. "Business makes strange bedfellows."

"But not in the literal sense. Not in this case." I smiled seductively back at him.

"We'll see about that in Seattle, Ashley Harte, matchmaker. When I want a woman, it's almost impossible to keep her out of my bed."

My smile didn't slip and I didn't move. But only by the greatest effort. "That's very flattering, but—"

"Don't play coy with me." His voice was deep with want and filled with seduction. "The game has just begun. With the sex between us as fantastic as it was the first time, there shouldn't be any doubt what I want. You want it, too. It won't be long before you're begging me to amend our contract so that we can sleep together."

I shook my head. "Your cologne is going to your head. Arrogance is just another thing to go before a fall."

He leaned forward and slid his fingers into my hair, cupping my head and looking deeply into my eyes. "I'll see you in Seattle, matchmaker. We'll see who will be begging who for what then."

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,
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