A Billionaire for Christmas

When I look up at him, I find him looking at me with pure unadulterated pleasure. As if I’m the most amusing thing he’s ever seen.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, feeling a small smile pulling my lips up simply in response to him.

“You’re cute,” he says and that smile gets bigger. I shake my head and take a sip of the coffee. It smells rich, tastes delicious and the warmth is desperately needed. It’s heaven.

“You make me nervous,” I tell him as I put the mug down.

“You’re less nervous when you’re drunk,” he tells me and then lays his forearms on the counter, leaning closer to me. “But I didn’t want to take you to bed and have you not remember it.”

I nod and feel my cheeks flame, casting my eyes down.

“You did promise me a date last night,” Alec says as he pushes away from the counter and out of my reach, the movement catching my attention.

“Did you really bring me out here...” I start to ask and then have to trail off as my head pounds with a morning headache from caffeine withdrawal or maybe a hangover. I grip the mug with both hands. “Did you bring me out here simply because you wanted to sleep with me?” I can't help but ask him the annoying thought that’s been bugging me.

Alec scratches the back of his head, looking away from me for a moment. “I shouldn’t have said that last night,” he starts, and I have to cut him off.

“Are you saying you should have lied?” I ask. I don’t know why I’m feeling so defensive, or so much like I want to run.

“I’m saying, your editor contacted me and I requested you. I looked into the others, but I admired your writing and found you attractive,” he says easily, the tension in the air dissipating. “It doesn’t hurt that I’ve been alone for a long time and the thought of taking you on a date after the interview… well, I couldn’t say no to that.”

“Our interview isn’t over,” I say, trying to remember if I even started a write-up last night. I’m confused with which direction to take the article. Do I go with something that will sell but still be business-oriented that my editor will find appropriate? Or should I stick to what I really want to write?

“First dates are interviews, Lila. And ours went great last night,” Alec says with his eyes on me as he raises the mug of coffee to his lips. There’s a challenge in his gaze, and I play along.

“Last night was not a date.” The strength in my voice is gone, and I have to bite down on my lip to keep from smiling.

He doesn’t hold back his own as he sets down the mug and swallows. My eyes are drawn to his neck and then up to his lips as he licks them.

“If that’s the way you want to play this, that’s fine. I’d love to have another non-date with you tonight, Miss Travers. But first, an interview over coffee and brunch in town.”

“Just an interview?” I ask him, feeling disappointed although I’ve brought this on myself.

He closes the space between us with his large strides. He gets near enough to where I can touch him if I want, near enough to where he could lean down and put his lips on mine. But neither of those things happens. Instead he leans against the counter and merely stares down at me. The heat crackling between us begs me to initiate something. I refuse it though, gripping my coffee mug and pretending the sexual tension doesn’t exist.

“It was never just an interview,” he says just above a murmur and the way he says it makes me more than certain those words are the absolute truth. He leans forward, his lips close to my ear, his hot breath trailing down my shoulder and he whispers, “Shower first, and then our date.”Chapter SixLilaI suppose it’s only natural that Alec takes me to a quaint diner. It’s a small town, and it makes sense we’d have an early brunch in a corner booth on the far end of a mom and pop shop.

And maybe it makes sense that everyone keeps giving us odd glances, too. I’m new, and unfamiliar. But constantly feeling their gazes makes me uneasy. I keep glancing between the dark blue paisley window covers and the small crowd on the other side of the diner. Each time there’s someone staring back. It’s almost like a game at this point.

“Are they bothering you?” Alec asks me, bringing me out of my thoughts.

I shake my head, both hands wrapped around the white ceramic mug in my hands. Tea this time, not coffee. I limit myself to two cups a day for the sake of my teeth. Coffee’s worse than smoking for your teeth, or so I’ve heard. “I’m just not used to…” I pause and take a moment, trying to come up with the right word. “Attention.”