Their Sweet Desire (Power Surge: The Billionaire Club 3)

He popped one of the delectable raspberry brownie bites into his mouth. Oh my God. These are fucking amazing.

The first bite revealed a center of fudge, not too much and that hint of raspberry glaze or something mixed into it. He reached for the berries. Beautiful, ripe, and sweet.

“How are they?” the barista asked, and he finished chewing then smiled.

“Fantastic. I’ve never had anything like this before.”

“I’m glad that you’re enjoying them. Let me know if you need anything else.” She slid his bill onto the counter, of course it was in pink, and in her handwriting. In between the scents of sugary smells, he caught a whiff of her perfume. Light, airy, enticing, just like her. As he looked at the paper bill, he wondered if it would smell like her perfume? That thought—that he was ready to lift it to his nose and take

a sniff—bothered him. He had never experienced such an instant attraction and desire to learn more about another person. Sure, when he needed sex, he was able to find someone who appealed to him and then let her go, and he never brought her to the penthouse. Stone was the exact same way.

His cell phone rang, and as he pulled it out, he saw it was Stone. He wondered what Stone would think of this place, and of the barista. She was exactly what they liked. Petite, brunette, brown eyes, sweet and voluptuous. But she was young. Too young for men like him and Stone.

“Hello?” He answered his cell as he placed the money down on the counter. He left her a nice tip. It was the least he could do.

“Yeah, where are you? I thought that you would be here by now,” Stone said.

“Hey, you said nothing was doing.”

“Well, something is doing now. That building on Locus we were interested in buying is going up for sale in a matter of an hour. I’ve got the realtor on line one, but I need you to call Stewart and get in touch with the owner. That nice old man you chitchatted with that day. He likes you. Now that he’s ready to sell, we need the upper hand.”

“Okay, Stone. I’m on it.” He stood up and disconnected the call.

“Would you like me to wrap those for you?”

“Oh, no that’s okay. I need to go.”

She gave him a look as if he was out of his mind to leave them there, or maybe she seemed insulted. He felt bad.

“Okay, wrap them. I’ll bring them to the office with me.”

She smiled then reached under the counter and used a napkin to add the delectable brownie bites to the box. It was also in pink, with the fancy word Bliss across the front. She tied a little bow over the top and handed it to him. It looked beautiful. Almost as beautiful as the barista.

“Thank you. Good-bye,” he said.

“Bye,” she replied. He hesitated a moment and smiled at her. God, she was gorgeous. He felt like he should say something more or do something. Stay and get to know her. Something. But he couldn’t. She was too young. She was probably working her way through college or something.

He turned around and left with the fancy box in hand.

Emerson walked out toward the sidewalk to hail a cab. He glanced back at the little coffee place, called Bliss, and smiled. The barista was going to remain on his mind for quite some time. She was cute, petite, and had a sweet personality. He nearly chuckled aloud. Of course she was sweet. She worked at a place loaded with sweet things.

As he looked for a cab, he felt the hand touch his arm and then link through. He jerked to the right.

Olivia fucking St. James. Stone was right. The chick is stalking us.

He pulled his arm from her grasp and stepped back from the sidewalk.

“Olivia, what are you doing here?” he asked with an attitude, and he didn’t care who heard. The woman was out of line. This was no coincidence.

“Oh, Emerson, is that any way to greet me? What a surprise bumping into you here in SoHo. I didn’t know you did business around here? Or was it just to visit Bliss? They make some very delicious desserts in there.” She rolled her tongue over her lower lip and batted her silly fake eyelashes at him. Some women looked sexy with the false eyelashes, but Olivia looked cheap. The barista’s eyelashes were real, and she was genuine. Emerson could tell. He shook the thoughts of the barista from his head and focused on the situation in front of him.

“I know damn well that you don’t hang around here. Why don’t you just keep walking, and forget that you even saw me. I’ll do the same.” He turned to walk down the street. Perhaps if he walked a block, he could hail a cab quicker and get away from the Fatal Attraction chick.

“Emerson, please. Don’t be so angry with me.” She grabbed onto his arm and caressed his jacket sleeve as if he were her pet. He wasn’t any woman’s pet.

“Olivia, release my arm. I told you to never touch me again,” he stated firmly. She gave one of those sad looks that was an old game of hers. He wasn’t biting on the bait. He was done with her. It had been months. What was wrong with her now?

“But I need to talk to you. It’s about Stone. He was with another woman. I caught them together. He cheated on us.”