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Shopping for a Billionaire 2 Page 12
Author: Julia Kent

And the many that remain unspoken.

“Fine.” James rolls the window up and the limo speeds off.

Declan just shakes his head, eyes narrow and watching me, pointedly ignoring the disappearing car.

“What are you doing?” I ask. My voice is barely above a whisper. I don’t even need to turn around to see that Amanda, Josh, and Greg are gone. They’re eavesdropping, I’m sure. But they have the decency to give us some privacy.

“I’ll survive first class.” His face is serious, but I can tell he’s making a very dry joke.

I laugh without mirth. A very large, fluffy animal seems to have taken residence on my chest. My breathing slows, deliberate and careful. The wind lifts loose strands of my hair, and it catches the loose ends of his tie, which flap over his shoulder. He could be a model, like something in GQ or Vogue, exuding wealth, prestige, confidence, and something timeless. Ancient. Embedded in the way he walks toward me, how his gaze is single-minded and completely aimed at me.

The second his hand reaches for mine I shiver, a delicious stroke of connection that makes my shoulders square. I’m wearing a boring office-drone outfit, casual slacks with old black leather shoes and a long-sleeve cotton wrap shirt that matches his eyes. My hair is a crazy, windswept snarl, and whatever makeup I put on before I dashed out the door this morning has long faded.

“Hi,” is all I can think to say.

He leans in and gives me the sweetest kiss on the cheek I’ve ever received. “Hi. I couldn’t stay away.”

My heart stops for a few beats. A part of me feels like Carrie, on stage at the prom, seconds before the bucket of pig blood is about to be dumped on her.

This really is too good to be true.

“You’re willing to brave TSA agents for little old me?”

His answer is buried in the kiss he gives me, this time most definitely not on the cheek.

The tug of his fingers in my hair, the brush of early afternoon stubble against my lips, the feel of his warm, wet tongue against my teeth all make me moan, a little sound coming from my throat that I have never uttered. Declan clasps me to him harder, fueled by my reaction.

Then he breaks away and says in a voice that makes all the blood rush out of my head, “I knew this was a good idea. I can’t stop thinking about you. Friday is too far away and I have to be in New York for the next three days. This was my only chance.” His mouth takes mine again, my own hands clinging to him like I’ll blow away if I don’t hang on. Petals from the blossoms on the trees behind us float on the wind, making me feel like a fairy, as if this were part of an imagined world where magic is real.

Maybe it is.

He pulls back and presses his lips together with a smile that makes those damn hot dimples appear. “I’m willing to brave quite a lot for you, Shannon.”

Including the Turdmobile?

All I can do is smile back and keep my hands around his warm waist. His hands are on my shoulders and he’s looking me over, searching. Memorizing.

And, I hope, enjoying.

“I also hoped you could spare some time from work,” he adds, looking at the concrete block that pretends to be my office building. “All you need is razor wire around the top and it looks like you work in a prison.”

“A day in the life of Shannon Denisovich,” I joke.

He nuzzles my neck. “A woman who knows her Russian literature,” he murmurs. “That’s hot.”

I pinch myself, because now I know I’m dreaming. Either that, or Amanda’s secretly working for some low-rent cable reality television show where hot, successful businessmen make fun of fluffy women with inferiority complexes.

He looks behind me, over my shoulder, and one eyebrow rises high. “Do you have an exterminator in your building?”

That’s quite the topic change. From nuzzling my neck to thinking about bugs.

“No—why?” I turn and follow his gaze. Ah.

The Crabmobile.

“Then what…” He cocks his head.

Oh boy. How do I explain this?

“It’s a promotional thing some company is doing,” I say, staying as boring and nonchalant as I can as my fingers play with the rippled muscle of his torso. I could touch him all day. I can’t believe he’s letting me touch him.

Magic. Seriously.

“So—coffee?” He shrugs. “I don’t have a car. Can you drive?”

All the magic disappears in that sentence, replaced by the Eye of Sauron. Staring at me from atop one of the new cars.

“Uh…”

“You don’t have a car?”

I have two. Neither is acceptable for you to ride in.

“There’s a great local coffee shop next door,” I say, pointing toward a ubiquitous chain that everyone in the Boston area knows and that is about as far from “great” as I am from “slim.”

He laughs and laces his fingers in mine. “How about we just spend a few minutes together.”

“You have a plane to catch. Bags to check. Unwashed masses to share germ-laden air with. And you have to get that coveted middle seat between a sumo wrestler and a four-year-old who will insist on unlimited access to your smartphone.”

Just then, Greg, Amanda, and Josh all burst through the building’s double-doored entrance. All of them have keys in their hands. In rippling-fast motion, my brain processes three things:

1. Declan and I are holding hands in public.

2. I am going to have to take him for a ride in my screwdriver-ignited car.

3. Under no circumstances can I take him anywhere in the Turdmobile.

“Catch!” Greg says, tossing a set of keys at me. As I have the eye-hand coordination of a drunk frat boy going through basic training, I scream like a little girl and flinch.

With flawless precision, the hand Declan’s not currently touching me with snaps up and catches the keys.

“Nice,” Josh says. As his eyes take in the suited hottie before him, I realize he isn’t referring to the catch. Though I know Declan is straight, and I also know I could take Josh down in a cat fight (though he has no hair to grab), I still feel a massive plume of green mist take over my senses.

“Thanks. Declan McCormick,” he says, letting go of my hand to reach toward my coworker.

I want to growl.

Declan hands me the car keys. “These are yours?”

Josh’s eyes go wide with amusement, and if he could run upstairs to make a big old bowl of popcorn, he would. Explaining my car situation to Declan would have been amusing to me, too, if it weren’t, well…me.

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Julia Kent's Novels
» Shopping for an Heir (Shopping for a Billionaire #10)
» Shopping for a CEO's Fiancée (Shopping for a Billionaire #9)
» Shopping for a Billionaire's Wife (Shopping for a Billionaire #8)
» Shopping for a CEO (Shopping for a Billionaire #7)
» Shopping for a Billionaire's Fiancee (Shopping for a Billionaire #6)
» Christmas Shopping for a Billionaire (Shopping for a Billionaire #5)
» Complete Harmony (Her Billionaires #5.2)
» Complete Abandon (Her Billionaires #5.1)
» Shopping for a Billionaire 2
» Shopping for a Billionaire 1
» Complete Bliss (Her Billionaires #5.3)
» It's Complicated (Her Billionaires #5)
» Shopping for a Billionaire 4
» Shopping for a Billionaire 3
» Random Acts of Crazy (Random #1)
» Random Acts of Trust (Random #2)
» Her First Billionaire (BBW Menage #1)
» Her Second Billionaire (BBW Menage #2)
» Her Two Billionaires (BBW Menage #3)
» Her Two Billionaires and a Baby (BBW Menage #4)