“I want a date. Why would I want to pitch to you? I don’t even know who you are or what you do for a living, and to be completely honest? I don’t really care.”
A laugh escaped him. He couldn’t help it. He was so used to people kissing his ass for his power, money, or both—but she was refreshingly abrupt and clearly didn’t give a shit about what he could give her. It was…amusing. “Okay, then—”
She interrupted him. “Pick me up tomorrow at nine?”
“At night?” It was a little later than he’d usually go for, but whatever.
“No, in the morning.” She scribbled something on the back of the card he’d given her and handed it back. “Here. That’s where I live.”
He glanced at the address and tried to remember the last time a woman had asked him to breakfast—that he hadn’t already slept with. Even more interesting. “All right. I look forward to our date, Sam.”
She rolled her eyes at him. Actually rolled them.
“I’m sure,” she said drily.
He said nothing—almost because he was afraid to interrupt what she might say next. So he waited patiently instead, though he couldn’t stop himself from raising one eyebrow in humor as she continued to stare him down. For her, he might just have all night to continue this battle of wills.
An almost evil smile stretched her mouth, and he had to catch himself from smiling back at her. There was very little he loved more than a good challenge, and this lady had stubborn intelligence in spades.
“Oh, and dress casually,” she added.
And there she did it again, surprised him almost speechless. He frowned. “Casually?”
“Yeah, you know. Jeans. Flannel. Boots.” She tipped her head, her blue eyes flashing with something he could only assume was amusement at his expense. “Do you own those?”
“I own everything, darling, including your apartment building,” he said cockily.
“My…?” Her jaw dropped. “Seriously?”
He gave her a wink. “See you at nine. Make sure you’re ready, I don’t like to be kept waiting.”
“Because your time is so valuable,” she shot back at him.
“You said it, not me.”
For the first time in years, Taylor’s well-oiled world had a monkey wrench thrown into it. He had absolutely no idea what tomorrow would bring. And he was shocked how much he liked the prospect. And the woman.
Chapter Three
Taylor had insisted on going out ASAP on a date she didn’t even want to go on, and neither would he…especially once he realized what they were going to be doing.
But, hey, she’d paid three thousand dollars for the “privilege” to go out with the pompous asshat, so at least she’d get her money’s worth out of him this way. Smiling, she tugged her hooded sweatshirt closed, watching the parking lot for any signs of the likely overpriced car he’d be driving. She couldn’t wait to see his face when he realized what their “date” was going to be.
That man…he was as frustrating as he was attractive. It was time to bring him down a few pegs. What better way to annoy a spoiled rich man who had probably never had to worry about bills than to make him build a house for the poor? After she’d gotten home last night, she read over the rules of her date, and as long as her idea of a fun time didn’t put his life in danger or require him to do something sexual, she was good to go. Their date didn’t end until he dropped her off at home, so he’d be forced to help her make the world a better place.
A shiny black Alfa Romeo pulled into the parking lot, and she swallowed hard. Had he been kidding last night when he told her he owned her apartment building?
He pulled up, stopping directly in front of her. She started for the car, but he hopped out, rushing around the front. He wore a flannel shirt and a pair of jeans that appeared as if they’d just had the tags ripped off this morning. They still had the creases in places where they’d been folded.
Had he gone out and bought what she told him to wear?
“Let me help you,” he said immediately, taking the toolbox out of her hand. He frowned down at it. “May I ask what’s in the toolbox?”
She forced a smile. “No, you may not.”
“Right.” He flexed his jaw. “Let me guess? It’s the giant chip that’s normally on your shoulder? Did it not match your outfit, so you had to put it in a box?”
“No, it’s for your huge ego,” she muttered under her breath.