The Billionaire Book Club

Her big eyes, plush lips, and high cheekbones stand out from the rest of her delicate face.

I’ve never seen features like hers, even after all the years I’ve dedicated to loving all kinds of women.

Something about her is different.

And goddamn, I like it.

I watch as the waitress approaches her table with a steaming new cup and sets it down next to her. She jumps at the movement and looks up in a rush to tell her she didn’t order another one when the waitress very helpfully points to me.

Her gaze follows the path the waitress’s finger creates and, instantly, her huge eyes widen even farther, the pointy-edged ovals transforming to nearly perfect circles.

Out of all the late-night joints in the city, she sure as shit wasn’t expecting to see me in this one.

Of course, I wasn’t expecting to see her either.

If I were the kind of fool who believed in fate and destiny and all of that hocus-pocus bullshit, I’d probably consider it some sort of heavenly sign.

But I’m not that kind of bastard, so I write it off as a fortunate coincidence.

Luck. A big fat stroke of Cap-i-tain luck.

She yanks her headphones off in a hurry, tosses them on the table, and scowls. “Really? You’re still stalking me? Do I need to report you to the bar association?”

God, I love how feisty she is.

I smirk.

“Believe it or not, this is a complete coincidence. A happy one.”

She snorts. “Speak for yourself.”

“I am.”

She doesn’t react expressively, but I don’t miss the small blush that breaks out over the apples of her cheeks.

“Look, I really did just come in for a cup of coffee and a piece of pie. Most people are sleeping this time of night. I certainly didn’t expect to find you here.”

She chews at her lip as she considers my words and then digs under the loose sleeve of her sweatshirt for her watch. “This time of night?” she questions. “What time is it?”

“Just after three.”

“Three?” she almost shouts, jumping up from the table and packing her stuff frantically. “Crap.” She jerks at the strap of her familiar backpack, which is stuck on the corner of the table, and then stumbles backward when it lets go unexpectedly, mid-pull.

“Hey, hey,” I say, standing from the booth and covering the distance between us quickly enough to steady her on her feet. “Where’s the fire? Time’s not going backward, so no matter where you’re supposed to be, you might as well calm down.”

“I’m not supposed to be anywhere but sleeping,” she remarks. “I have to be up at five, and I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“You’ve got two hours. That’s plenty.”

She snorts. “Two hours is not plenty of sleep.”

I shrug. “It’s probably what I get on most nights.”

“Yes, but you’re a vampire,” she says casually, and I can’t help but laugh.

“You know, I might be.”

I look down at the book in her arm and read off the title on the spine. “Corporate Climate: Understanding the Principles of Case Context. A little light reading, I see.”

She actually cracks a smile. “I have a mock trial coming up. I’m trying to be as well versed as possible.”

“I could help, you know…” I pause and eye her knowingly. “In fact, if you came and worked for me, the experience itself would help. I’ll show you all sorts of things.”

“Oh, I just bet you will.”

Damn, her smart mouth might be my favorite thing about her.

“As much as I’m digging the way your mind obviously works, my offer is completely innocent.”

She scoffs. “Uh-huh. Sure, it is.”

I shake my head as I reach out to take her book and tuck it under my arm. “Come on. Sit down with me. Drink your cup of hot chocolate that you already have—thank me very much—and let me help you.”

She groans, looks at her watch again, and finally—blessedly—gives in.

“Fine. Fine, fine, fine,” she repeats, grabbing the book back from my hands, shoving me out of the way and sliding herself and her belongings into my booth. “But if you make one comparison of law to sex, I’m out of here.”

I cross my fingers and then cross them over my heart. “On my honor, my lady. I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

Her eyes are piercing and powerful as she meets mine head on. The contact feels like some sort of cosmic car crash. “Perfect gentleman? You don’t even know the meaning.”

I have to bite back my grin.

She is so, so right.

Ruby

Dangerous. That’s what this is.

Sitting down in the middle of the night with Caplin Hawkins and his lascivious intentions didn’t seem like even the most remote of possibilities.

But here I am, drinking a hot chocolate he bought for me, listening to him discuss the complexities of corporate law context.

“Most judges are pretty time sensitive,” he says, and I can’t stop myself from stealing a glance at the way his lips move with his words. They are full, firm but soft, and holy moly, those lips of his are a little too tempting for my liking.