Page 13 of Billionaire’s Game

“Lucky winner?” I squeaked, not knowing what else to say. I couldn’t help but stare at him. He was hands down the hottest man I’d ever seen.

“Brain Pain? My partner?” he said, seating himself across from me.

I gulped hard, almost choked on my cookie and immediately starting coughing violently.

He got up quickly, wrapped his arms around my middle, pulled me up and attempted to do the Heimlich maneuver on me as my arms flailed in the air.

I continued coughing and was sputtering. “I’m fine,” I managed to gasp finally.

He kept trying to save me and I started hitting the flat of his palm on my back. “I’m fine,” I screeched.

“Sorry,” he said as he let go of me abruptly, allowing me to sink back down on the bench. “I thought you were choking.”

“You’re not supposed to perform the Heimlich maneuver on someone who’s coughing,” I said, outraged in order to get over my own humiliation.

“A thank you would have sufficed.”

“Thank you,” I snapped, and then narrowed my eyes. “Actually, I don’t have to thank you. You probably caused more trouble than help.”

“I tried to save your life.”

“I wasn’t dying.”

“You kids nowadays have no sense of gratitude.”

“Kids? You’re not much older than me.”

“Really? From the way you choked on a piece of cookie, I would guess you haven’t been around too long.”

I shot him a dirty look, but then couldn’t help but laugh. He was teasing me.

“Thanks for trying to kill me in order to save me.”

“You’re welcome.”

We sat there staring at each other until it became awkward for both of us.

“I’m not good at this,” he said with a disarming smile.

“Good at what?” I asked breathlessly, feeling ridiculous for being breathless in his presence.

“Making conversation with women.”

“I assure you, it’s no more complex than making conversation with men.” I tried to sound distant, as if the conversation didn’t matter to me at all. Inside I was beaming and yelling, “A desirable, sexy billionaire is chatting with me! Me! Nerdy me!”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t say that. Women are more complicated. And if I say the wrong thing I’m either seen as a creeper or socially inept.”

“Well, are you?”

“Am I what?”

“A creeper?”

“Not that I know of,” he said with a little smile. “But I’ve heard I’m a little socially inept.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“No, it probably is. I mean instead of asking you out on a date, I needlessly performed the Heimlich maneuver on you.”