Open For Him (BBW / Billionaire Erotic Romance)

-Praise for Karolyn James-

__

Falling for the Billionaire

The sex is hot.

Once again the sex scenes are sizzling.

__

Serve His Needs

I don't write reviews but for this book I had to say something this time. I just fell in love with this book, the characters and author.

The different sex scenes with Alexander participating in the flesh or not could make a girl forget her name.

The sex scene in the limo was smoking.

__

For His Taste

"...this book was one of my favorites."

http://www.amazon.com/Karolyn-James/e/B008E0GHL4/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

OPEN FOR HIM

__

SHE HIDES.

Macy Mareta works behind the desk at an art gallery for a friend who struck it big, and she regrets everyday that she's not the one painting and bearing her soul to the world.  Her wide curves inhibit her confidence and she blames her secret past for everything. 

HE WATCHES.

Encountering billionaire Derreck Hagan while delivering a painting was the last thing she needed after spilling coffee all over her shoes minutes before.  He is fast, he is smooth, so when Derreck commands her to return to the elevator for a date, Macy isn't sure what to do.

SCARS ARE UNCOVERED.

After making Derreck angry, Macy worries that she will never see him again.  She begins to realize that as much as she needs someone like Derreck to open her up, he needs her to open for him...

~OPEN FOR HIM~

Macy bit the
top of her coffee cup from Café Joe’s, managing to get her teeth over the lid to hold it in place while she reached into her pocket to find the piece of paper with an address written on it.  She snapped her wrist, opening the paper, briefly seeing the address before a small gust of wind took it out of her hand and sent it sailing through the air.  When she opened her mouth to yell at the unfortunate event, her coffee fell right on her shoe.  The hit was hard enough that the lid came off the coffee cup, sending coffee everywhere, in a light brown messy circular pattern, including blotches of coffee on Macy’s new white shoes.

“Wonderful,” she whispered, stepping from the puddle of caffeine.

In her left hand was a painting done by her boss, Stacey C.  One of the city’s newest and hottest artists, her work had been high in demand for some time but thanks to an article and small spot in a national magazine, business had been booming.  Macy met Stacey in college when Stacey still used her last name instead of just her initial ‘C’.  Success had made her into something else, but she always had a job for Macy, while Macy worked her way through some changes.

That’s all it was supposed to be -
some changes
.

That was two years ago.

Now she stood with her white shoes stained, her coffee wasted, looking for an address to a building to drop off a painting at.  All for a measly commission that would keep the electric turned on for another month.

Macy bent down and picked up the empty coffee cup.  She threw it as hard as she could into the trashcan and then set her sights on the buildings before her.  Stacey had said
look for the tallest building and go to the fifteenth floor.  Ask for Dave, collect the check, and smile. 
That’s exactly what Macy did, except the squishy feeling of coffee in her shoe.  It felt like the most obvious thing in the world to her, making her feel uncomfortable, more than normal.  It wasn’t so much that her curvy body attracted a lot of judging eyes, it was because that was something she could not hide.  Of all the secrets she could keep tucked away, her body was something she couldn’t hide.  With each step she took, her eyes tried to look down, calling out to the mess of coffee on her feet.  At one point she caught the faint smell of sugar and cream, making her even more annoyed because she really wanted (and needed) that cup of coffee.

The night before, Macy had spent hours working on a painting.  She didn’t consider herself talented, not like Stacey C., but it was nice to have something fun to do.  She couldn’t mention it to Stacey C. for fear of jealousy and losing her job, so she kept all her supplies and artwork hidden in her closet.  Each time she opened that closet, digging for the painting stuff, it made her feel like she was reaching for a metaphor of her life.

Building F wasn’t the tallest building, at least according to Macy’s perception.  She remembered seeing the letter ‘F’ on the piece of paper before it blew away.  As she pushed through the rotating doors, she held the painting in front of herself, allowing her wide hips to make it through without a problem.  To her left, was a gold plated sign with a list of names and floors. 

15th floor.  Ask for Dave.

She walked to the elevators, standing in a small group when her cell phone started to beep.  It wasn’t a horribly loud beep, but the only one that made enough noise when Macy was out in public.  Normally she could get to the phone in time to stop it or she would just hold her phone.  But since she had a painting in one hand and did have a coffee in the other, her phone had been tucked in her bag.  Sets of eyes looked at her as she got the phone and silenced it. 

It was Stacey C.

She had to take the call.

The elevator doors opened and Macy casually backed up, not wanting to be rude on the elevator.  She also didn’t want to ride on the elevator and stink it up with her coffee smelling shoes.

“Hey Stacey,” she said, taking the phone call.

“Did you drop off the painting?”

“I’m there now.  Getting ready to get on the elevator.”

As Macy said it, she saw a man answering his cell phone at the elevator doors closed.  She sighed, wondering if it ever paid off anymore to be respectful of others.

“Okay, good.  I’m hoping they like this.  If they do, they want their hallway done by me.”

“That’s great,” Macy said, ignoring the churning feeling in her stomach.  She sometimes hated herself for not having the confidence and drive that Stacey had.  Not to mention Stacey had her father, who supplied her with cash like a broken ATM spitting out hundreds for free.

“It is,” Stacey said.  “The busier we get, the more we all make.”

“Of course.”

“When you see Dave, tell him to please call me right away.”

“You got it.”

“Thanks Macy.  Hey, did you get your coffee?”

Macy looked down at her shoes.  “Yeah, I got it.”

“Damn.  I was going to have you get me one.”

“I’ll stop on the way back, the first one didn’t work out so well.”

“Okay...”

“Don’t ask,” Macy said.  “I’ve got to go, the elevator is coming back down.”

“Smile, be confident.”

Stacey hung up and Macy held the phone out.  She smiled and nodded, making a funny face.  Stacey was a nice woman but she could get annoying.

“You know, staring at a dark screen with that face is cause for concern.”

Stacey turned her head and saw a man standing next to her.  The first thing she did was scan him.

Why?  Why did she do that?

He stood holding the jacket to his suit over his shoulder, hooked on his finger.  A second after seeing him, the flood of his cologne snuck up Macy’s nose, a musky scent that somehow worked with the way he looked.  Tall, broad, a man of business with striking features.  As he stood staring at the elevators, he looked poised for a commercial, his chiseled jaw line and perfect frame leaving Macy speechless. 

"Didn't mean to offend you," he said, turning his head, looking at Macy.

She took to his brown eyes; they looked like they had a touch of hazel to them, magical eyes that would change slightly in different light. 

She felt her body react with a cresting wave of warmth that ran head to toe, making her toes curl into her wet socks.  The gesture reminded her that her shoes were covered in coffee, she was there to deliver a painting, and that even the faintest thought of talking to man that good looking had to be nothing short of a fantasy.

"No," Macy said, "I was talking to... a friend."

She felt strange saying 'my boss' and didn't know why.  Maybe because the man next to her gave off the aura of a super powerful businessman, the kind that made his own rules. 

"Sure you were," he said, then pointed to the elevator.  The doors were open and it stood empty.  "After you."

Macy nodded and took a step.  When she tried to take a second step, she tripped on nothing - literally nothing.  It was enough that the man reached for her but more importantly it caused him to see her shoes.

Fuck, Macy thought.

She hung he head, trying to hide her red cheeks, and walked into the elevator.

The man stepped in and pressed for the ninth floor.

"Fifteenth for me," Macy said.

She then realized that he wouldn't push the button for her.  Why would he?  He was the business guy, if anything she felt she should have pressed the button for his floor.

Macy reached to press the number fifteen just as the man did.  For a quick second, his finger was on the top of her finger and they pressed the button together.  Macy shuddered, trying not to tell herself how strong the stranger was.  He lingered at her finger, even after the light for number fifteen came on.

The doors closed and Macy put her hand back at her side.

After a few awkward seconds of silence, added by Macy straining to turn her eyes to look at the man, she saw him reaching towards her.  He touched the edge of the painting and tugged at me.  The brown paper on the painting crinkled and any other time Macy would have pulled back, explaining just how valuable the artwork was.  But as the man pulled, she didn't stop him.  Against her better judgment, he turned the painting around and slid his finger towards the tape holding the paper together, protecting the painting. 

"What's this?" he asked as one of the flaps opened.

He undid the other one and stared at the painting.

"A painting," he said.  Then he looked at Macy and smiled.  "Obviously."

Macy smiled back, her cheeks burning.

"I'm dropping it off," she managed to say.  "Third floor bought it."

"Ah, third floor," he said.  "I know all those guys, very well.  Did you paint it?"