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“I, um, I'm sorry. I didn't know what you looked like.”
“Oh, you weren't curious at all?” The billionaire took back his hand, leaving mine feeling empty, and he stepped back over to his table. “Have a seat. I took the liberty of ordering for you. The almond essence latte... it's what I get whenever I come here.” I raised an eyebrow.
“How would you know that I'd even want a latte?” I stepped over and sat down, trying to regain my composure. “Or that I'm not allergic to tree nuts.”
“Well it says on your bio that you're a coffee freak, and this is their signature coffee. I guess I took a risk. Isn't that what your business is all about... taking risks to get the reward?”
“Well, I look at it as a more calculated risk.” I lifted the steaming latte to my lips and sipped. The flavor of almond was bold, but without the bitterness that you sometimes taste with almond extract. It was all sweetness, mixed with the rich darkness of a bold coffee and the creaminess of whole milk. I sipped again, pausing, savoring the taste. Normally, I was an espresso shot kind of girl. Or, at the very least, black coffee brewed strong... with just a splash of milk. The coffee was decadence itself, with none of the seriousness of the espresso I usually chose. It tasted like an afternoon off, like a tiny vacation in the middle of the day.
“It's good isn't it? So good it takes your words away?” I smiled and looked into those big blue eyes.
“Yeah. It's... not what I'd usually get. Thanks, I guess. Even though it was presumptuous to order for me.”
“Let me guess. In your line of work, you see a lot of dominant men who order for their women. I'm not that way. I just wanted to share my favorite coffee in L.A. with you. Maybe you'll get to know me better that way.” A server stepped up and delivered a plate of biscotti -- not a plain vanilla, but with raspberry swirls with it. “And just as I've said that, I've had biscotti delivered. But trust me, you'll want to dip it in your latte. Go on, do it.”
He smiled again, the lines at the edges of his eyes crinkling up. I laughed, in spite of myself. I picked up one of the biscotti cookies and dipped it into my drink, bringing it to my lips and taking a small bite.
“Ohhhh,” I moaned. “This so... so decadent. Why are you doing this to me?” I chuckled again and took another bite.
“I just like to see a beautiful woman smile.” I rolled my eyes.
“You know,” I said, between bites, “This is not usually how a first meeting with a client goes. This is... highly irregular, Josh. I like to stick to the questions I have on my survey. If we could get to some of those, I'd appreciate it.” I tried to bring myself back to business, but it was hard, looking at this man and sensing the texture and taste of the crumbly biscotti.
“Well, how about we deviate from your questionnaire just a little bit? I think you might get to know me better without your trusty questions.” He kicked back in the chair and took a long swig of coffee. He closed his eyes with contentment, and I couldn't help but smile again. I covered my smile with my hand, and he looked back at me.
“Fine. As long as we can get your first event lined up after this meeting. That would make me a happy woman.”
“That's fantastic. I like happy women.” I sipped my coffee and nibbled at the biscotti, bringing out a small notepad to write down what he said.
“And what else do you like, Josh?”
“Well, I've been working hard for the past fifteen years, building a tech empire. All kinds of apps and accessories, and all that stuff that's necessary in this day and age. But also kind of boring. That's my work life, and I want a woman, a wife, who is more exciting than that. Someone to go on an adventure with me, take a trip to the islands at the drop of a hat. I also want a woman who has her own passion, her own career. Someone who built a business just like I did.”
“That's pretty specific, Mr. Ev... Josh. There aren't a lot of CEOs out there attending our events. We have wildly successful models and actresses, and many professional dancers…”
“That's all good and well. I'm not looking for a whole lot of women. Just one. Someone who will make my life more joyful than it has been. I'm not close with my family, but I want to build my own. Have kids. A bunch. As many as she wanted. Someone to fill up my house with love, not just things.”
I gulped, and my mouth went dry again. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, trying to ignore the heat rising in my body, my blood rushing with a need I had pushed away for so long.
I'm so sorry, I can't continue this meeting. My ovaries have decided to explode and want to claim all of your babies.
Click here to buy or borrow The Billionaire’s Matchmaker.
*****
Check out Cherished by the Billionaire while you’re at it!
Cherice Rouse looked incredulously at her friend Mona.
“What? Why do you think you need a man, girl? Life is way more fun single. You’re not tied down, got nobody to answer to, I’m telling you you’re living the dream! Nobody in a relationship is all that happy, trust me. They just are afraid to be alone.”
“But I am afraid to be alone,” said Mona, with a sheepish grin. “It’s not as easy for me. You’re beautiful and strong, and people just take to you right away. I’m the one lurking in the background and I need somebody!”
“Nonsense. You’re beautiful and strong too!” Cherice shook her head. “Men just mess everything up anyway. Isn’t that right, Andre!” she yelled to her brother in the next room.
“Yup,” he said, poking his head around the corner. “Cherice is right. Men just mess everything up. Just look at that mess in the front yard. We tried to make a nice garden, but look at it now. Look like a bomb went off.”
Cherice squealed with laughter. Her brother could always make her giggle. “And women always clean up their messes! Like that so-called garden outside. Who is going to be sorting it out, planting the flowers, finishing the job and making everything beautiful? I can tell you it won’t be the men!”
“Well sure, Cherice,” Mona countered, “but at least you had someone to dig up that garden for you. I wouldn’t know the first thing about doing something like that.”
“What’s to know? Grab a shovel and go.”
Her brother started bopping around the room, chanting, “What’s to know? Grab a shovel and go.” Cherice fell out. Andre was the best. He grabbed Mona’s hand, pulling her up to dance with him.
“You know what Beyoncé should’ve said, Mona,” Cherice exclaimed as they bounced around the room to his impromptu rap. “You don’t need a ring on it, you need some bling on it!”
“You are on a roll today, sis,” said Andre. “I’mma get you to freestyle at my next wedding gig. We can make some money with those rhymes!” Mona’s smile was already huge, being twirled around by Andre, and now she was laughing too.
“Sorry, but I’m busy that evening,” Cherice retorted, “and every evening that you want me to rap with you! I will tell you right now, it’s not going to happen. Besides those wedding parties are definitely not my style, even if I am just with the band. That’s what I am trying to say!”
“Fine, all the money goes to me then.” He mugged at her, and they both laughed.
“You say you don’t need a man,” said Mona, suddenly serious, “but if you met the right one, I bet everything would change in a heartbeat.”
“No way. I am going to make it on my own, and that’s all there is to it. I like it that way.”
“If you like it then whydon’tcha put some bling on it,” sang Andre, as he strutted out of the room.
“Seriously, Mona. Bling is better without the lifelong commitment of marriage attached to it. Take the jewelry, have fun with the man, and leave it right there.”
Mona just smiled, a little flushed from dancing.
***
