The Billionaire's Sexy Rival (Jameson Brothers 3)

Poppy shook her head again. "Honestly, William, I'm just giving you a hard time. I really admire your concentration, your dedication. No wonder you're so successful."

"I'm starting to think that success comes with a cost," William murmured. He spoke so quietly that Poppy almost imagined she had misheard him. She blinked, and leaned in a little in case he decided to follow up his words, but he seemed to be talking more to himself than to his tablemate.

"Maybe it doesn't have to." Poppy reached across the table and pulled one of his hands free to hold in hers. She lost herself momentarily in the feeling of his long strong fingers, and the deep crease of his palm. His hand was still warm from the mug of coffee.

"Miss Hanniford. You'll set the gossip columns talking," William whispered, but he didn't pull away. His serious mouth curled in a crooked, mischievous smile, and only one dimple leapt into prominence. Poppy had never seen him wear that version of his smile before. She wondered what a man who smiled like that was secretly capable of, and a rush of warmth flooded through her. Her face suddenly felt hot, hotter than their joined hands. The place between her crossed legs doubly so.

"Do you care?" She was genuinely curious.

William seemed to consider for a moment. His fingers caressed the inside of hers all the while. "I don't," he said finally. "Not in the least. My younger brother has occupied those particular New York columns long enough. Maybe he's overdue for a challenger to his crown."

"Then you'll wear all the crowns in the family," Poppy laughed.

"Are you calling me a king, Miss Hanniford?"

"Like you've never heard that comparison before." Poppy withdrew her hand from William's and rose. She hated that she was the first to notice the time, but he was sitting just below the coffee shop's clock. She enjoyed the momentary look of confusion that passed across his face, and filed it away as a victory.

William Jameson had been so wrapped up in her that he had forgotten the time.

"I propose we meet again at the end of the week," she said as they shouldered their bags and walked out together. "But I get to decide the time and place."

"Done," William said. "I think a follow-up meeting is a good idea. I'll try not to be so distracted next time."

"See that you aren't." Poppy paused on the sidewalk outside and smiled up at him. "Because the meeting I'm proposing could be rife with distractions. I'm inviting you over to watch 'Gone with the Wind', William. Friday night, eight o'clock, my place. Can't serve a client when you're totally ignorant of what they’re looking for, can you?"

"I wouldn't say I'm totally ignorant," William fired back. "Eight o'clock. Text me the address."

Poppy waved and turned. She was surprised when William caught the strap of her messenger bag and reeled her back suddenly. She turned herself around just in time to crash against his chest. She gazed up the length of his expensive tie, totally stricken by the move and trying to hide the fact. He looked down at her, his dark eyes penetrating. For a moment, Poppy thought he was going to capture her mouth in a kiss right then and there, in full view of the interested coffee shop patrons. But William didn't budge, and neither did she. If this was a test, she was determined to pass it. She wouldn't be the first to admit defeat in this particular little battle.

> Even if the lips hovering above her looked absolutely irresistible.

"Don't be late," she breathed.

"I wouldn't dream of it," William replied. The arm around her waist relented, and she slipped free of him once more. She took a step back, then turned away again. She tried not to notice the collective look of disappointment on the faces of the coffee shop watchers as she strolled back down the street toward her office. She tried to ignore the way her heart kept beating, fast and irregular, all throughout her morning appointments. She swore it didn't calm down until lunchtime, and a text from William requesting her address started it going all over again.

Maybe it was all the coffee.

Maybe she wasn't as resilient as she thought.

Chapter Seven

William

William arrived early and took a moment to himself on the stoop of Poppy's brownstone to adjust his tie. He had already checked his appearance in the tinted window of his limousine and knew he looked as put-together as always.

He just didn't feel that way. The prospect of seeing Poppy Hanniford tended to do that to him.

The handle of his briefcase was worn and smooth and reassuring in his hand. He had no idea what he was about to walk into, but he had come prepared. He wouldn't put it past Poppy to try and throw him a curveball the moment she opened her door to him. He raised his fist and knocked.

The door opened. Poppy stood before him, grinning. "You came!" she exclaimed, as if there had ever been any question. She held a massive bowl of popcorn in her arms, salted and glistening and ready for consumption. The bowl was almost wider around than her arms could reach.

William's gaze went lower and lower, trying to wrap his head around what he was seeing. Poppy stood before him in an oversized T-shirt (purple, of course) with large black print letters.

"What is 'Netflix and Chill'?" he read by way of greeting.

Poppy glanced down at her T-shirt logo. "You really don't know?" She grinned. "It's code," she said mysteriously.

"Whatever it is, it reads like it should have a hashtag in front of it."