The Way to a Billionaire's Heart - Part 1

For a moment, he just looked at me, taking in what I can only call my heaving bosom. Then his eyes met mine. “Oh, Andrea, you’re so beautiful.”

He lowered his head and kissed the mounded tops of my breasts. It took all my control not to just unsnap that bra right there, move this along. But I wanted to savor it, to enjoy how it felt to be an object of desire. He scooped one hand into the demi-cup of my bra and lifted up my breast. My nipple was completely firm and when he sucked it into his mouth, I moaned out loud. He pulled hard with his tongue and then kissed gently all around before lifting my other breast out.

“I have to feel your skin against mine,” he murmured, pulling off his own shirt. He pulled me close again, kissing me. I could feel the dampness from his mouth on my nipples as I pressed against his chest. My hands found the ridges of his abs and I traced the edges of the muscle there.

Walker’s hand was on my thigh, slowly heading up under the hem of my skirt. I knew I was soaking wet as I anticipated that hand finally making it to the top.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!”

We pulled apart like teenagers caught making out in the rec room. Rosa was standing in the doorway, her hand to her mouth. I grabbed my shirt and held it over my chest.

well, crap.

Rosa was beside herself apologizing. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Walker, I had no idea, I’ll just go!”

He tried to soothe her, assure her it was fine. Nearly in tears, she headed for the stairs.

“Well,” he said, turning to me,“that was poorly timed.”

I was tucking myself back into my clothes, my heart pounding even harder than before.

“No, no, it was good timing. That was getting out of hand. I need to slow this down, I don’t even really know you yet.”

“I was trying to help you out on that front,” he said with a smile. He was leaning back against the couch, giving me a good look at that chest I’d had my hands all over. His body was firm and lean, but didn’t have that I-spend-all-day-looking-at-myself-in-the-gym-mirror look. His shoulders were broad and his waist narrow. Damn near perfect, I’d say. My body ached to go back to what we were doing…

No. Gotta keep a clear head. Gotta remember who I am, who he is. Gotta pack.

“I do appreciate your efforts,” I said, “But I really should go home. You can just think about this body laying on a beach in Aruba. I’ll text you when I get back.”

“Give me your number, I’ll text you while you’re gone.” He reached for me again, but I moved out of his grasp. I knew I didn’t have the willpower to pull away again.

“Sorry, I’m not getting a sim card to use there. It’s vacation for real, Kiera’s orders.”

He shook his head. “Temptress. I will be thinking of that body on the beach, I can promise.”

His car took me back to my place and I texted with Kiera the whole way. Of course she thought I was nuts for leaving when I did. She says she’s never seen the harm in having sex right away. “Why find out it’s terrible when you’re already invested?”

But it just didn’t feel right. Not for me. I need a bit more trust, first. I wanted to be The One, even if it was only The One For Now. I know it’s so 20th Century of me, but I don’t want to just be a booty call.

Chapter Five

The next morning came way earlier than I’d hoped. Between packing and texting Kiera and excitement about the trip (and the night before), I’d gotten very little sleep. I deeply regretted my promise to bring Tiny Tina Alexander another smoothie for breakfast. Especially since I knew Walker wouldn’t be there.

But, stone professional that I am, I put that blender together one more time and dumped the ingredients in. As it was blending, I saw Celia come into the kitchen from another room. She was on her phone, and cut me a look to let me know the blender was making it hard for her to hear.

Bitch, there are three floors to this house, only one of them has a blender. Move.

She stepped into the living room area, right next to the couch where Walker had taken off my shirt. Had he taken off her shirt in there? Probably took her to his own house. Jealousy flared up, twisting my stomach. I flipped off the blender angrily.

Don’t be stupid. He’s had other girlfriends…But if he could even tolerate HER…

“Oh I know, I’m sure I look like a zombie, I barely got any sleep last night!” Celia was still talking loudly, compensating for a blender that was no longer running. “You know how he is, insatiable! He was so worked up, it was like he’d just gotten out of prison.”

She laughed and paced back toward the kitchen, her voice dropping to a normal volume. I could still hear her, of course, because she was in my space.

“Of course, well, at about three a.m. I told him to just go to sleep and leave me alone. I swear, I’m not a teenager.”

Her conversation was making a pit form in my stomach. I had a bad feeling about it and it wasn’t just from having Celia milling around the kitchen in her Lululemon yoga clothes.

“Mmm-hm, I’m at his mom’s house right now. I told him it’s time to stop beating around the bush and make it official, you know? I know there’s a family ring and I plan to get it on my finger before Christmas. Best way is to talk to the old gal directly…”

I was pretty sure I was going to throw up. My hand was shaking as I poured the smoothie into a glass.

Deep breath. Not worth it. If he wants her, why would you want him? But the injustice of it! He’d lied, said she was just a friend. He’d waved dismissively. He’d seemed like such a direct straight-shooter. But still a man with a boner, one he was apparently willing to relieve however he could.

As I walked past her to take the smoothie up stairs, Celia looked at me and gave me the most saccharine smile. It took all my control not to splash the smoothie in her face.

But then Rosa’d have to clean it up and she hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, she’d saved me from a big mistake. I should thank her.

Even so, I enjoyed imagining the green juice dripping through Celia’s flat-ironed hair, down her sports bra she wore as if it were actually a shirt, getting on her “barefoot” shoes that cost significantly more than my Chuck Taylors that also had no arch support…Delicious.

I took a deep breath before entering Mrs. Alexander’s room. I could feel the scowl on my face and wanted to get rid of it before I went in.

“Good morning, Mrs. Alexander,” I said, lying.

“Do I hear Celia down there, shouting into her phone?”

“Yes ma’am,” I said, savoring the annoyance in her voice. You and me both, sister.

She sighed, taking the juice from me. “I was expecting her. I guess it’s finally time.” Stomach. Twisting. She took a drink. “I will miss these, they’re damned tasty. Have a good time in Aruba, dear. Be sure to try snorkeling. Baby Beach is a great place to start.”

“Thank you, I hope to try it. I’ll take your advice.”

“Well,” she said, smiling, “at least you listen to my advice. Let me know when you’re back, I’d like to make arrangements for more meals. I find I rather like eating in my own bedroom.”

“I will. Thank you, Mrs. Alexander, I hope your knee heals quickly.”

“It won’t, I’m old as shit, but I appreciate the sentiment. Goodbye.”

When I came into the kitchen again, Celia was still on the phone, now clearly discussing possible honeymoon locations. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I thought about taking the All Clad pan, to at least get something out of this experience, but in the end decided I wanted nothing of Walker Alexander.

I was going to go home and get my suitcases and go to Dulles. Then I was going to fly to Aruba with Kiera and spend the week forgetting these three days had ever happened.

And when I came back, I was not going to be calling any of the Alexanders. They’d just have to get on without me.

To be continued in The Way To A Billionaire’s Heart: Book Two

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Excerpt from The Way to a Billionaire’s Heart: Part Two (of two)

If you’re going to “wash that man right outta your hair,” you could do worse than using the Carribean ocean. Kiera had booked a hotel right on the beach on the western side of the island, white sand leading down to water of an almost unbelievable turquoise blue. Sure, I’d seen pictures, but when your only real frame of reference is the Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic Ocean, there’s a part of you that doesn’t really believe it’s true.

But it was. Blue-green water and I could see my feet, even in water to my shoulders. In Ocean City? You’re lucky to see your feet in water to your ankles. Also, on this side of the island, the waves were gentle, so for the past two mornings, we’d gone out with our inner tubes and just bobbed along, enjoying the swells when a boat’s wake rippled toward the beach. Yeah, the hotel had a pool, but I can get in a pool in Washington.

“Hey,” Kiera called from a few feet away. I looked over to see her head draped back on the tube, face toward the sun. The first day, she’d worn a swim cap to protect her hair, but I convinced her a good rinse would be just as effective. I swim at the Y all the time and I haven’t gone bald yet. And if a cap looks dumb with my sporty cut bathing suit, it looked ridiculous with her string bikini. “Want to try snorkeling today?”