Billionaire's Second Chance

"Makes you stand out," he said. "Black's my favorite color."

"Ugh. Next you’re going to tell me you ride a motorcycle." I swept a look up and down him, the same as he'd done to me. "Anything you think makes you look like a bad boy, right?"

"Last time I checked, I earned my reputation," Fenton said.

"Please, I know your manager. If anyone could buy you a conviction for assaulting a police officer, it would be Kevin Casey."

Fenton laughed, a hearty burst that kicked my heart into high gear. "Actually, that's how I met Kev. He was in the drunk tank that night."

"So, you're a bad boy that likes the color black. What's with the blue shirt?" I asked.

"It sets off my eyes," he said.

I swallowed hard. He was right, and it was hard to avoid his bright blue glances. Every time I felt one sweep over me, my body tingled.

"And, I drive a Maserati, not a motorcycle." He pulled me up the steps to the V.I.P. Lounge. "Now, I'm liking you on my arm, but I have a booth reserved, if you want to sit with me."

My mind flashed over what his wide hands could do to me under the discreet cover of a table. The thought melted my insides. "How about another drink?"

Fenton steered me toward the bar, where he unhooked my arm only to slip his hand around my waist. The heat of his flat palm against my stomach was enough to send fissures of pleasure through the rest of my body. I decided two drinks were enough, but I had been so distracted by the sensations he caused that Fenton ordered me another whiskey and soda.

"Thanks," I took a long sip. "So, how did you know I was here to sign you?"

"I saw you earlier. Kev told me about you," he said. Fenton kept his arm wrapped around me as he drank a tall beer. "Too bad I don't do endorsement deals."

"You might if I ask," I said.

His lips curled into another sinful smile. "And here I heard you were all prim and proper. Miss Country Club Princess."

"You can't hold my upbringing against me," I said.

Fenton's smile

softened and my heart flopped. "I know what that's like, so you're right. I won't hold your upbringing against you." He pulled me closer. "But maybe other things, if you ask."

I spun out of his hold. It was too easy to flirt with him and forget all about work. "Sorry, I have to respond to this."

My boss had sent eleven messages with inappropriate suggestions for how to get Fenton's attention and expletive-filled demands for updates. James Cort had no fear of a sexual harassment suit, as he knew how much I wanted to take my career to the next level.

"First contact now. More soon," I typed.

"Dirty minx. Don't do anything I wouldn't."

I shook my head at my boss' response and tossed my phone back in my purse. I built my career on a sterling reputation and I was not about to throw it away on one Vegas prizefighter. As I turned back to Fenton Morris, my resolve weakened. He leaned against the bar, his blue shirt open wider, and my fingers itched to tangle in his chest hair.

He caught my look and smiled. "I've decided you can try convincing me. After we dance."

Chapter Three

Kya

I could still hear the club music. It thumped in my ears, but not as hard as the hangover. I knew it was bright on the other side of my eyelids, but I could not force them open. Flashes of the night before burst out of the fog, and I cringed in my hotel bed.

Fenton had dragged me to the dance floor, the crush of the crowd pushing me tight up against him. It seemed like the perfect excuse to let go, just for a moment. One song turned into a hypnotic loop and we kept going. I remembered my palms flat on the hard rock of his chest. The surge of desire I felt helped fight off the waves of aching hangover.

At one point, a stunning spotlight of memory, we were back in the V.I.P. Lounge, close together in the booth. He ordered champagne, and we toasted to our private corner in the packed club.

Fenton's blue eyes intense on mine, his voice soft as he had told me, "I don't know how, but you're different. I just wish we hadn't met so soon."