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“More embarrassing than walking up and interrupting my evening?” If his voice hadn’t had a trill of amusement in it, I would have thought he was being incredibly rude, but then again, he was probably someone prominent; I just couldn’t place him. I did just walk up on him and suddenly I lost my nerve.
He must have seen the hurt expression on my face. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
I took the chair across from him and swallowed a gulp of air. I had no idea why he was freaking me out so badly; I’d been around so many handsome men, too many. I had to pull my shit together.
“What were you going to ask?” Again, his voice was a graveled purr, and I imagined him breathing in my ear as he gently stripped away my clothes.
I pressed my knees together to stop the rioting going on in my pussy. “I need a date.” Yep … that came out all wrong.
Luckily, he burst into laughter.
“Says the woman who is dating … what, three men right now? I can never keep track.” Does he keep track? That moment slammed me hard.
“I’m not really ..” I stared at his amber eyes which looked like gemstones in crystal clear water, and then it hit me … Alec Blair.
I was sitting with Alec Blair. He was a little rougher and tumble than the cover of Forbes magazine depicted, but it was him … all billions of dollars of him. I think he saw the shock register on my face because his smile widened.
“Not really asking for a date?” His eyes sparkled when he teased.
“I had no idea who you were,” I confessed, shaking my head, feeling like an idiot.
“Ah, and here I thought you’d come over because you knew exactly who I was.” His voice crossed a snide line … but I let it pass, the moment was becoming unbearably awkward very quickly.
“I came over because my roommates are on their way from the Dana Planet party. I blew them off and said I was with a date, now they’re coming to check on me. I was really just hoping you were a random guy …”
“To sleep with?”
“No, I don’t sleep with guys.” Nope … that’s not what I wanted to say.
“Girls then?” His eyes narrowed and glazed over with a weird kind of lust.
“Oh, God no … I mean, no … just a regular no, it’s fine for whoever …” I was starting to pant.
“Why don’t you just ask me what you were going to ask.” He settled back in his chair with a breezy kind of ease, and I gripped the armrest, trying not to pass out.
“Can you pretend you’re my date just while they are here and then, when they leave, I’ll let you get on with whatever you were doing, and I’ll just have another beer and lament about how pathetic this whole situation is,” I said at the speed of light. “They should be here any minute.”
“Isn’t it a little dangerous to pretend you’re dating me?” His lustful look was replaced with an alluringly dominant one.
“Dangerous?” I gulped.
“Well, I’m also in the news. Rumors will spread …” His smirk had me all kinds of crazy.
“Not my girls, they won’t say a thing, I promise. I’ll do clean up on my end with them. It will all be under the table. We’ll have an amicable breakup, no big thing, we weren’t that into it and then I’ll be off the hook for the year for having put myself out there.” I flashed him a gorgeous smile, my signature.
“Sounds like fun.” His demeanor changed entirely. “What are you drinking?”
Chapter 2
Alec
What an odd turn of events. I had no real interest in Kylie Morgan, no more than anyone else would who had read the nearly nonstop media rubbish about the world’s most adorable playgirl. She was a woman on a meteoric rise to total and complete domination of the planet’s male population. There wasn’t likely a man alive who hadn’t seen her tiny nipples perking up the Ralph Lauren red carpet number she wore to the Met Gala ball. The back plunged deep to her buttocks and the front dipped to her navel leaving her tiny tits to hold the rest up. She was quite literally sex on a stick.
Her face was beguiling in an otherworldly manner, and her aloofness had men clamoring to know her. She’d had a string of high-profile boyfriends and a few questionable kisses with women. The bumbling mess before me though wasn’t the Kylie Morgan the world saw. She was gorgeous; there was no mistaking that, but sweet and nervous. I wanted to eat her alive.
I was almost as famous, for more mundane reasons as a billionaire playboy whose face was worthy of GQ magazine. I had my fair share of high-profile women. In fact, the reason I was at the bar that night was to avoid one I’d just dumped. Not wanting to suffer Valentine’s Day with her and expecting that she might stalk my house for one last romp in the name of the couple’s holiday, I chose not to be present. I knew Greg, the owner the St. Marks, a dive bar with lofty aspirations, and he promised he’d keep me under wraps … and then Kylie showed up.
