Talking Dirty with the CEO (6 page)

Jude looked long-suffering. “Lunch, remember?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Let’s go.” Cursing himself inwardly, Joseph closed down the chat window.

He had to stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about her. She was gone. In any case, even if he did want to see her again he didn’t know her name and had no way of contacting her apart from her chat handle. But he didn’t want to see her again. One night was enough. Any more than that and he ended up bored and restless, and that wasn’t fair. Not her fault he’d been built for casual, not permanent. That the ADHD didn’t allow him anything more, at least not without a fair amount of emotional heartache on both sides. No, these days he stuck to women who were after the same thing—no point in deliberately hurting someone.

Someone like Naughtygirl.

Yeah. Exactly.

They went to his favorite café, a tiny place down on the waterfront that had a view of the busy port—he did like to watch the container ships unloading. It gave him something concentrate on when he felt his focus slip.

“So,” he said as the waitress took their order. “The exhibition went well, huh?”

His sister pushed back the neat, black wings of her short, bobbed hair. “Yeah. It went really well. I sold at least twenty pictures.”

“Wow, that’s incredible, Jude.” And it was. She’d worked really hard to get her first exhibition up and going. He was so proud of her.

She frowned. “You were quite distracted, though. More than normal, I thought. Was it to do with your date?”

“No,” he lied, fiddling with one of the sachets of sugar on the table.

Jude raised an eyebrow, seeing through the lie instantly. “Don’t be an idiot. What happened?”

“Nothing. It just didn’t work out.”

“What? Losing your touch, Mr. Slick?”

“She wasn’t my type.” And she wasn’t. Not in any way, shape, or form.

Jude rolled her eyes. “You mean she wasn’t blonde and built like Big Bust Barbie?”

“Whoa, stereotyping much?” His leg jogged, impatience with his sister’s assessment of his tastes eating away at him.

“That’s not the point and you know it.”

“Then what is the point?” He folded the sugar sachet in half, making sure it didn’t tear. “Stop making snide comments and just say it.”

She pursed her lips, looking uncharacteristically hesitant. “I get worried about you. You’re my big brother and I hate seeing you so lonely.”

Lonely? What the hell was she talking about? He wasn’t lonely. He had friends coming out of his freaking ears. “I’m not bloody lone—”

“No, don’t say it. I can’t bear the denials. I’m just telling you what I see and that’s a guy surrounded by admirers and colleagues who respect him, but who doesn’t have a single person in his life who doesn’t care about his money or his success or his looks.” She raised a brow. “If you don’t count Caleb and Luke of course, and since Caleb is in the UK and Luke is even more of a workaholic than you are, I don’t.”

Joseph gritted his teeth, dropped the folded-up sugar packet, and grabbed a napkin instead. “I gotta tell you I’m okay with my money, my success, and my looks.”

But the expression in his sister’s eyes had become almost…sad. “You say you are. But I don’t think that’s true. Not really.”

The waitress came over with their coffees at that point, giving him a moment to contain his shock at her soft statement.

Shit, what did she know? He loved his little sister but she had no idea. None at all. He liked the respect he got. He liked the success. He liked the money. All the things he hadn’t had after he’d dropped out of school at fifteen. All the things no one had expected from him.

And he was happy with where he was. He was freaking ecstatic.

He grabbed a couple of sugars, dumped them in his espresso, and stirred. “So what are you trying to tell me? That I need a girl who loves me for who I am on the inside?” He didn’t hold back on the sarcasm.

Jude sipped her latte. “Why not?”

“Because. You know I’m not built that way.”

His sister shook her head. “Rubbish. You’re built the same as everyone else.”

Oh, sure he was. That’s why he’d dropped out of school so young. That’s why he’d had to start his own company because he couldn’t hold down a job. That’s why he only had two friends who’d stuck by him over the years for reasons even he couldn’t work out. That’s why his life was a constant series of reminders that kept him on track in case he got distracted by something unimportant.

Because he was the same as everyone else.

“So come on, tell me about that guy I saw you chatting to on Friday.” A graceless change of subject, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to talk about himself anymore.

In fact, he was pretty much happy not to talk about himself with anyone. Ever.

And that included his well-meaning sister.

Chapter Four

The Ashton Tech E-Slate product launch at the Hilton on Princes Wharf was in full swing by the time Christie arrived, the huge ballroom already packed. The event had been touted as a pretty big deal and all the tech gurus and attendant media were there, including a few celebrities who would provide the new product with a bit of cachet. Promo girls in slinky outfits circulated, as well as waitstaff with free alcohol. All the ingredients needed to make it a launch to remember.

Christie hated it.

She scowled at the crowd, trying to ignore the nervousness she always felt when it came to social events. Small talk really wasn’t her thing and as for networking, she only knew about that in relation to computers.

Good thing she was here to do a job and not socialize.

A woman who looked as if she’d escaped the pages of Italian
Vogue
sauntered past, and Christie scowled even harder. Oh bollocks. Was she supposed to have dressed up for this? If so, Ben hadn’t told her. She’d just chucked on what she’d normally wear to a tech function—T-shirt, jeans, and Docs. Yes, the T-shirt was a limited edition Death’s Head tour T-shirt, the jeans were skinny, and her Docs purple velvet, but clearly that said special to nobody else but her.

Too bad. She wasn’t going to regret refusing Marisa’s help with finding a “suitable outfit,” either. After the stretchy black dress debacle, she had no intention of letting her friend make any more clothing choices for her.

Debacle? Joseph wasn’t able to take his eyes off your legs…

Pushing the thought out her head, Christie scanned the crowd looking for people she knew and sure enough, after a couple of minutes she spotted some colleagues from a rival magazine. Taking a glass of champagne, she threaded her way through the knots of people toward her friends. They greeted her with friendly smiles, and soon enough they’d all gotten into a deeply interesting discussion about the latest smartphone.

“So what do you think of this Ashton guy then?” Christie asked Tony, another colleague and fellow metal connoisseur, a while later.

She’d tried to do a bit of investigation about the Ashton Tech CEO before the launch, but information had been sparse. Unsurprisingly. He was known for being media shy, preferring to leave all that stuff to his company’s spokesperson. All she’d discovered was that he’d started his PC business from a friend’s garage while in his teens, and from there it had gone from strength to strength, becoming not just a force to be reckoned with in Australasia but in other parts of the world, too. Apparently he was based in Auckland but traveled a lot. And that was the extent of the information. She’d found a couple of official-looking pictures though, and she had to admit, for a technology CEO he was hot, if too clean-cut and expertly coiffed for her tastes.

“What do I think? I think the guy’s a freaking genius.” Tony waved the beer he was holding for emphasis. “Ashton Tech went from a garage start-up to a turnover in the billions in less than ten years. That’s genius in my book.”

“Sounds more like a work/life balance problem to me,” Christie muttered.

“Decide for yourself then.” Tony elbowed her. “His Highness is about to address the masses”

“Where?” she asked, craning around.

“Over there.” Tony pointed. “Interesting he’s made a personal appearance tonight. Must be important, I guess.”

A makeshift stage had been rigged up on one end of the ballroom, and she spotted a dark-haired man going up the steps. At first Christie couldn’t see him with the lights dimming. A spotlight came on as he walked over to the lectern and then there he was, standing in the center of the column of light like James T. Kirk ready to be beamed aboard the Enterprise.

Tall and broad in a very expensive-looking dark suit. Black hair expertly styled. A chiseled clean-shaven jawline and cheekbones to die for. He looked somehow hotter in real life than he did in those pictures. And also somehow… The nagging sense of familiarity gripped her.

Abruptly her heart stopped.

Sweet Jesus. What the bloody hell was uninhibited-sex-on-the-bathroom-vanity Joseph doing here?

Then, as her brain caught up with the rest of reality, she realized: gorgeous, uninhibited-sex-on-the-bathroom-vanity Joseph
was
Joseph Ashton of Ashton Technology
.
The owner of the company whose product was being launched with such hype tonight.

Christie’s glass of bubbly slipped through her nerveless fingers and smashed on the polished wooden floor.

Up on the stage, Joseph turned and she found she couldn’t move. Couldn’t even breathe. The whole ballroom seemed to fall silent.

She wanted to die.

But unfortunately death didn’t oblige her, so she had to stand there in agony, face flaming, as everyone stared at her. Including Joseph. And just when she thought her embarrassment would burn a hole through the floor, his attention shifted and he began to speak. As if he hadn’t seen her at all.

Waitstaff appeared, cleaning up the mess while Tony stared at her, puzzled.

“Are you okay? What was all that about?”

Her mouth felt dry. Her knees weak with shock.

“Nothing,” she croaked out. “Nothing at all.”

Nothing except for the fact that Joseph Ashton, head of a major company with a turnover in the billions, one of the most innovative IT companies in Australasia with a future that was going to go global, just happened to be her one-night stand. How could she not have recognized him? How could she not have known? He was kind of famous and she was in the industry.

Then again, what were the odds of your online date being a technology billionaire? And he’d been in jeans and T-shirt with an unshaven jaw and messy-ish hair. She hadn’t made the connection. But, Lord, she did now.

And just as she was struggling with that thought, another one sneaked up behind and hit her with a baseball bat.

She had to interview him.

Bloody freaking hell.

“Hey, Chris. You’ve gone white.” Tony now looked concerned.

It was too much. All way too much. She had to get out. Get some space. Some air.

Muttering excuses, Christie turned and pushed her way out of the ballroom, stopping in the reception area outside, breathing hard.

There were several low black leather couches scattered around and she tottered toward one, sinking down on it to give her wet-noodle knees a break. Then she lowered her head into her hands.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

Shame and embarrassment spread through her. This interview was going to be a nightmare. He’d probably look at her in shock as she sat down in front of him. The geeky tech hack he’d slept with. The one who’d run out like a frightened rabbit. What would he say? What would
she
say?

Whoa, freaking out much, St. John?

Christie shut her eyes. Oh yeah, she was freaking out. Which was dumb. She had to get a grip here.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head and opened her eyes, staring at the huge painting on the wall opposite her.

So he was her one-night stand. So he was a billionaire. So she had to interview him. So what?

She’d handle it. No biggie.

Yeah, he probably dated models or gorgeous actresses or something. But, hell, that didn’t matter. God knew, hot billionaires weren’t her usual thing, either. Those kind of guys, the guys her parents sucked up to all the time—guys like Greg—were usually arrogant, self-obsessed, and up-themselves anyway. Totally not her scene at all.

I didn’t expect you to be quite so gorgeous…

Christie’s throat closed. No, don’t think about that. Don’t.

“Chris?” She jerked her head up to see Tony coming toward her. “What’s up?”

Oh, just gearing myself up to interview my one-night stand. The one-night stand I ran out on. Nothing major.

She let out a long breath. “Nothing. I think it must have been something I ate.”

He frowned. “Do you need to go home?”

Yes. She did want to go home. Run away back to the safety of her apartment. Fire up a game of
Zombie Force Online.
Go back to where she was comfortable. Where she was safe.

But she wouldn’t because she had an interview to do. An interview she’d promised to deliver to her boss and one she wasn’t going to let mere embarrassment stop her from delivering.

She could do this. She could. He was just a guy. A guy she’d had bathroom-vanity sex with, but hey. With any luck he wouldn’t even remember it.

Christie pushed herself off the couch. “No. I’m fine, Tony. But I could use another glass of champagne.”

…

Joseph, his speech over, stepped off the stage. People began to surround him but he took a moment to grab the attention of a nearby aide, who responded with the usual suck-uppiness. “What can I do for you, Mr. Ashton?”

“There’s a woman here tonight, long reddish-brown hair, Gothic-looking T-shirt with a skull on it. Find out anything you can about her, please.”

Not much for the guy to go on of course, but hell, what was the point of having an aide if you couldn’t ask them to do the impossible?

The man nodded and sped off while the crowds closed in.

Joseph put on his game face, trying to do the CEO thing while his brain kept focusing on the only thing it considered important: Naughtygirl’s face in the crowd, staring at him in shock.

Perhaps it was stupid, not to mention desperate, to try to find out about a woman he’d had a one-night stand with a week ago. He’d had one-nighters before and never felt the urge. Then again, none of the women he’d had one-nighters with had turned tail and bolted on him.

All he wanted was an explanation. It wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

That and the fact that he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head. But he wasn’t going to think about that, oh no, he wasn’t.

The evening began to stretch interminably, a test of his patience and his concentration.

He hated it. The endless succession of people, the same conversations over and over again, trying to remember names, trying to remember faces. The whole thing made him restless and unable to focus.

It was different when he was researching or developing something. When that happened, he was the very definition of focused, staying up all night, working all day. That quality had enabled him to get the E-Slate to market far quicker than any of his competitors, and that was why Ashton Technology was always at the forefront of innovation.

The ADHD had may have played merry hell with his personal life, but it had given him the edge when it came to his business, at least.

An hour later, the aide was back with some information.

It turned out that his Naughtygirl was in fact Christie St. John, a tech journalist for one of the better technology mags. A fact that certainly explained her very specific knowledge of his stereo.

“And here’s her most recent article,” the aide said, thrusting the most recent issue of
Total Tech
into his hand.

Distracted, Joseph waved a group of people away and stepped over to the side of the ballroom to read it. The article concerned the Internet dating scene, an informative and amusing bit of fluff about her encounter with a certain Studman500.

Ah, so that was why she’d been out on the date. She’d been researching her article. Perhaps that was also why she’d run out on him. Unless she’d expected to end up on his bathroom vanity…

But that wasn’t likely, was it? She’d tried to hide it, but he could tell she’d been nervous and unsure of herself. And if he hadn’t picked up on it with her intermittent stutter and flashes of vulnerability, then her fleeing the scene of the crime in his bathroom certainly gave it away.

Quickly he scanned the article again, unable to stop the grin that curled his mouth. Man, she was good. The wit he’d noticed in her IM conversation was right there in the dry, funny way she’d written about their date. She hadn’t included the sexy part but she’d put in their chat about his hi-fi unit.

“Joseph?”

He looked up from the magazine as Liz, his chief media officer, approached. “What is it?”

“The interviews are due to start in a couple of minutes. Are you ready? There’s a suite upstairs for you.”

A sudden thought struck him. “Do I have an interview with anyone from
Total Tech?
”

Liz whipped out her E-Slate, flicking through the apps on the screen. “Ah, let me see…yes, you do.
Total Tech
is up first.”

“The name?”

“Uh…Christie St. John.”

Well, well, well. Looked like he was going to get his explanation after all.

A feeling of intense satisfaction settled inside him.

“Good.” He handed a surprised Liz the magazine. “Let’s get on with it then.”

Upstairs, the hotel suite set aside for the interviews had been prettified with flowers, a plate of fruit and even a bottle of champagne on ice for his personal use. But Joseph ignored both the fruit and the champagne.

He paced over to the windows, surprised by the intensity of his anticipation. Then turned as the door opened and Liz came in, a tall, female figure trailing behind her. “Christie St. John from
Total Tech
,” she announced and stood aside.

And there she was, standing in the middle of the room. His Naughtygirl.

Over the past couple of days he’d thought that maybe he’d imagined her sexiness. Built her up into something more than she had been. But looking at her now, he realized that in fact he’d underestimated her attraction. Because, goddammit, even without the stretchy black dress, she was something else.

She wore a loose black band T-shirt with the grinning skull on it he’d noticed earlier, her long, fabulous legs encased in tight black jeans. He liked the jeans. Very much. Though the T-shirt could be tighter, all the better to showcase the round perfection of her breasts.

Unable to help himself, he took in her figure, dropping down to her legs, then farther down to…velvet Docs?

The launch had been a high-class affair. Black tie all the way.

But not, apparently, for Christie St. John.

Unexpected. Unusual. Fascinating.