Cherishing Her: A Protector Office Romance Page 4

  The first time I’d hit the Forbes front cover, I’d been unprepared for the sudden spotlight of attention that had focused on me. Sure, I’d been advised things would ‘alter’ slightly, and that I might have to increase security. But, overnight, I’d turned into a weird kind of star and every event I’d attended, suddenly, I’d had a gaggle of women hovering around me.

  I’d become a millionaire three months before I hit my twentieth birthday , and had hit my first billion at twenty-nine. Twice, I’d hit Forbes. The first time for being a rich kid under twenty, and the second, for hitting a billion before I turned thirty.

  At nineteen, still sweating around women and worrying about random hard-ons, to be surrounded by the afore-mentioned gaggle had been both heaven and hell.

  I’d… well, I’d taken advantage of my situation, and the papers had doomed me as the ‘software, hardcore playboy.’ I mean, what did that even mean?

  It made no sense and yet, that tag had been following me around for the past seventeen damn years.

  I was under no illusion that Jessica would know something of my reputation. Unfortunately for me, I was like Zuckerberg or Gates or Jobs. People knew my name now. Unlike them, I also had a rep.

  Wrinkling my nose as I realized she’d asked me about my home, I murmured, “Florida.”

  “You’re from Florida?” she blurted out, apparently bewildered at the prospect of me being from the South.

  I frowned, part-amused and part-wary by her astonishment. “Why are you so shocked?”

  “I don’t know.” She turned a pensive gaze my way. “Where are the Hawaiian shirts and flip flops?”

  “I buried them in my backyard a long time ago,” I told her wryly.

  She laughed. “Good to know.”

  “Yeah, I realized those kinds of luxuries were no longer in my future. I pull out the Hawaiian shirts on the 4th of July for twenty minutes, but then I revert to type and go back to living in my suits again.”

  Laughter burst from her and as it faded, it twisted into a grin that, Lord help me, did something to me. I wasn’t ashamed to admit it, but I was surprised.

  But then, she’d been surprising me all day.

  That first glimpse of her hair?

  Hell, I’d felt like a baby who couldn’t stop playing with his mother’s dangly earrings, or a cat who was fascinated by a piece of string.

  I’d wanted to curl my fist in that hair, feel the strands slip against my fingers, have the silk cascade over my body as she kissed my chest, heading down, down, until I could feel it on my upper thighs.

  My cock hardened at the prospect, and I willed it to behave. Not only because she screamed vulnerability either.

  I knew hiring temps was an unusual thing for Derek to do. We, ordinarily, just transferred people around when someone went on maternity leave or a member of staff fell ill and couldn’t work for an extended period of time. But that was before the great harassment case of 2017.

  Of the twelve vice presidents I had managing my company, nine of them were new this year. Why?

  We’d just been dragged to hell and back by lawsuits thanks to those nine schmucks who’d routinely abused, verbally and emotionally, their PAs.

  It pissed me off that I’d inadvertently created a toxic environment where that kind of thing could go down. But those nine had been overprivileged, self-important assholes.

  I was self-made, and until last year, most of my VPs hadn’t been.

  In the ongoing shuffle, staff were in short supply, so we’d been hiring temps from a certain agency who specialized in tech/law, and had their people sign the most iron-clad of NDAs. Though the word temp didn’t indicate a sense of permanence, we were willing to hire on their staff, most of whom specialized in something, for extended periods of time.

  Was it efficient?

  No.

  Was it costly?

  Yes.

  But I blamed myself for the way my management had been acting, and knew that I deserved the punishment. Financial or otherwise.

  Some days, I wanted to beat on myself for having failed to spot the signs. It was worse than when I was young and was trying to protect the women around me and failed. As Avalon was my baby, I felt it should have been inviolate, and yet, I’d learned it wasn’t.

  That pissed me off more than anything else.

  It had, also, encouraged me to hire more female execs.

  I’d unintentionally hired all males for the top roles. Not because I was a schmuck who didn’t believe in equality. Because that was just BS. Some of the smartest people I knew had ovaries. But the VPs I’d acquired over the years had been amassed out of deals and mergers with other companies.

  Only their behavior, or lack thereof, had enabled me to get rid of them. They’d breached their contracts and had null and voided any protection offered to them by harassing female members of staff. Still, if I’d known what they were doing, I’d have taken the hit to the company’s bank balance to get rid of the bastards before they could hurt some innocent PA.

  “Where did you go?” Jessica asked softly, and I realized I’d fallen into my thoughts.

  Though I jolted at her words, I tried to hide it by grimacing. “Sorry. I do that a lot.”

  “Do what?” she asked, staring up at me from under lashes that were thick and long and seemed to flutter like damn angel wings.

  “Zone out.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose, feeling myself start to do it again as I took in the individual lashes that were barely visible in the lights that gleamed into the cab from the street. “It’s just a quirk of mine,” I excused, then heaved a sigh when I heard Mackenzie snort at my words.

  “I have those,” she said with a grin. “We all do.”

  I’d have downplayed said quirk, but I knew Mackenzie. Knew he’d hang me out to dry the minute I told a white lie. As a result, I was as honest as I was willing to be on a first date. “I know, but mine seem to be more noticeable.” If she heard the dryness in my voice, she didn’t let on.

  “I wouldn’t say noticeable. It’s just… I felt like I was at the center of your attention, and then suddenly, I wasn’t.”

  My grimace hardened as embarrassment blossomed inside me.

  Ah, shit.

  Clearing my throat, I murmured, “Sorry.”

  “No need to be sorry, I was just curious, that’s all.”

  Knowing that I needed to change the subject before I started blushing—for fuck’s sake, what kind of grown man still blushed? I asked, “How are things at the office?”

  “Today wasn’t too bad.” She cut me a wry look. “I met this guy who wanted to go on a date with me and wouldn’t take no for an answer.” The words were playful, but once she said them, a tension overcame her.

  It seemed to eat away at her, making her freeze in place. Where once she’d sat relaxed against the leather backrest, out of nowhere, a block of ice had taken her place.

  “Jessica? What is it?” I asked uncertainly.

  “N-Nothing,” she whispered, her eyes dark pools as she looked at me, releasing a shaky breath as she did. “I-I mean it.” Those three words were a little firmer than ‘nothing’ had been.

  I wasn’t sure why though.

  “I would have taken no for an answer,” I told her smoothly. It wasn’t exactly difficult to put two and two together and to figure out that her words and whatever had happened to her had coalesced into one living nightmare for her. Still, I had to tack on, “If you’d have meant it.”

  A bark of laughter fell from her lips. “And how would you have known if I’d meant it or not?”

  “If you hadn’t been saying yes with your eyes.” I caught her gaze, held it even as the darkness hid most of her from me, I wanted her to see my resolve. “Also,” I said, changing topics quickly, “I’m a great companion. You’ll have fun. Who wouldn’t want to have fun while having some good food? And to be fair the food’s even better than the company,” I told her cheerfully.

  Her lips curved, and I was relieved to s
ee that some of her tension had dispelled somewhat.

  “You’re not like how I thought you’d be.”

  I cocked a brow at that. “No? How did you think I’d be?”

  “Mad, bad, and dangerous to know?”

  “I’m certainly not Lord Byron,” was all I said, amused by the reference.

  “I’m surprised you even know who Byron is.”

  “Had a love of English poets back when I was a strange fourteen year old,” I informed her. “I blame my mother. She had a crush on the lot of them. Byron, Wordsworth, Keats. She drowned us all in the lot of it before we hit ten. I swear, she’d have married one of them if they’d managed to have come back as a zombie.”

  Laughter pealed from her and it settled something deep in my heart.

  The notion should have disturbed me, but with this woman, it didn’t.

  I wasn’t sure why and like most things where my instincts were concerned, I decided not to question it.

  No matter where it took me.

  Where business is concerned, I was used to going with my gut. In matters of the heart? Many would say I didn’t have one, although, that was bullshit. I loved Derek and his brother, Alex—my best friend. I loved my parents and even Alex’s. My circle was small for a reason—I’d learned the hard way.

  Family were the only ones who’d stick by you through thick and damn thin.

  So what if they had crushes on dead people, or were the banes of my life at work, family stuck.

  And I had a very strange feeling that moment, as I looked over the young woman in my car, that she and I were going to be family to one another at some point in the future…

  Chapter 4

  Jessica

  The way Max looked at me sent fire through my veins.

  It also sent terror.

  But heck, I should be used to that by now. Ever since Nida, I’d been petrified by the sight of interest in any man’s face.

  The truth was, I was sick and tired of being scared. Of letting that one moment in my life define me.

  I wanted, oh, so badly, to let loose. To rip off the chains of the past and dive into what this man was inviting with his technically inappropriate offer of a date.

  Why?

  Because he was different.

  Earlier, I’d classified him as weird. Now, I wouldn’t say that, although I think many would.

  I’d expected a cold and aloof mega-billionaire. Alpha to his hand-tooled Italian leather shoes and to the head of his four hundred dollar-a-cut hair.

  But was he like that?

  No.

  He was funny. He was witty and charming.

  He said things that shocked me, that made me laugh. There was something about him that put me at ease, and after being so uneasy for so long, he made me realize how exhausted I was.

  The ride over was filled with his smartass and witty repartee. As he took me wherever he wanted to go, I allowed myself to relax, and when I did, I found that my laughter, so strained at first, flowed freely by the time Mackenzie was opening the door and letting me out onto the sidewalk.

  I shivered the minute I did, though. Max wasn’t wrong; it was really damn cold tonight. So much so, when Mackenzie let Max out too, and he rounded the car and met me on the sidewalk, it was with pleasure that I snuggled into the arm he slotted around my waist.

  Was it too soon for such gestures?

  Maybe.

  But, deep down, it didn’t feel it.

  He was my boss, sure.

  Technically.

  The thought had my lips curving.

  I felt like this man had made a fortune on the technicalities, and a part of me appreciated that he was throwing those aside to take me on a date.

  What had he meant earlier when he’d called me normal?

  Was he indicating, from the start, that he didn’t expect sex? That he expected me to want more?

  I didn’t particularly understand his reasoning even though it had seemed perfectly logical to him. But then, why wouldn’t it? I couldn’t even begin to imagine how many women threw themselves at him on a daily basis. He was a billionaire, and yet, he had the personality of the guy-next-door.

  I loved that. The more I was with him, the more I noticed it.

  All day, I hadn’t dreaded the date. Maybe I’d felt a certain amount of trepidation, but nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that I wouldn’t have felt before over a first date when my wardrobe was as threadbare as it currently was.

  That, I was almost ashamed to admit while being strangely proud too, had been my biggest fear today.

  I had nothing to wear.

  Having settled on a silky sweater that I usually saved for visits home and a pair of slacks, I was hardly dressed up. Nothing like what he would be used to, with those hordes of women who threw themselves at him Monday through Sunday, but I looked decent.

  I hoped.

  Until I received my first pay packet, I wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about the state of my closet, and even then, I wouldn’t be able to. I had bills. So, so many of them, and the money was earmarked their way.

  Mostly, I’d spent the day working and railing at a fate that made it so this twenty-seven year old couldn’t buy herself a new skirt because she was still paying out on the loan she’d had to take out to pay off the fines the judge had ordered she pay back to Nida—for his expenses.

  I could feel myself start to drown under the weight of the past, then Max slammed the door shut behind me. It took me less than a second to realize I hadn’t fallen under the weight of my history. He couldn’t have noticed in the time it had taken him to close the damn door!

  Together, we walked the four steps to the restaurant, which wasn’t what I’d imagined. It wasn’t glossy or chic, wasn’t packed with press outside waiting to take photos of the celebs inside.

  It was small, cozy, cute.

  I blinked, a little surprised now I thought about it, but then, even as the surprise came, it went as relief took its place.

  Maybe he felt it, because he shot me a look as we stepped toward the doorway.

  “They make the best pizza in town,” he said, his tone almost apologetic.

  Had he mistaken my relief for disappointment?

  My cheeks tinged with heat as I ducked my head, but I caught his gaze, not wanting him to misunderstand. I’d just been relieved that my clothes would stand up to this place. A celebrity eatery was not prepared for my sweater or my scuffed heels.

  “That’s fighting talk,” I told him.

  His eyes flared with interest, and I knew I’d taken him aback. “It is, huh? Why?”

  I jerked my chin up, and throwing caution to the wind, told him, “This is your idea of the best pizza in town, how about tomorrow, we try out my idea.”

  He tilted his chin to the side. “What happens if you’re bored shitless over my dinner talk? I could eat with my mouth open, or drink too much. Make slurping noises with the water or get food in my teeth and talk to you so you can see it.”

  There was something to his tone that made that fire dance through my veins once more…

  He was baiting me, and his eyes were laughing as he did it.

  The jerk!

  I loved it!

  I smirked at him, loving that he was teasing me, loving that I didn’t cower under his amusement at my expense. “I’m sure I can cope if you can.”

  “If I can?” he asked, frowning.

  I shrugged. “I mean, I always get food stuck between my teeth and the last time I brushed them was last month. If you can deal with that, then I’m sure I can deal with your lack of manners too.”

  He wrinkled his nose but his eyes sparked at my earnestness. “TMI.”

  I grinned. “I thought we should start as we mean to go on.”

  Interest flared to life in the depths of those green orbs. “You did, huh?”

  “I did.”

  It was his turn to grin. “I like the sound of that. More than anything, I like the sound of a second date.”
>
  As I cuddled into his arm, I only murmured, “Me too.”

  And I meant it. I really did.

  The door opened and the scent of tomato and oregano overwhelmed me. That, and baking bread.

  Had I died and gone to heaven?

  It smelled awesome in here! It had been too long since I’d been able to afford anything other than store bought pizza, and I seriously felt like sniffing the air like a damn dog just to revel in all the glorious aromas permeating my immediate vicinity.

  “Did you just moan?” Max asked, sounding amused now.

  I clapped a hand to my mouth as he outright laughed. I glared at him. “I didn’t moan.”

  “You totally did,” he whispered into my ear, tilting his head so that he could bend down to reach me. His lips brushed the outer curve of my earlobe and I felt myself shudder at the perfectly innocent touch. More of that strange fire slalomed through my veins as I felt his silken mouth against that tender shell, and I found I had to withhold a whimper that longed to break free of my throat. “I’ll forgive you for the white lie though. Just this once.”

  My own mouth felt strangely dry when he pulled back, and I saw the banked heat in his eyes. Heat that felt like it scorched me soul deep. I gulped, stunned by my response, then whispered, “What if it happens again?”

  He laughed. “Don’t try it.” But he winked to take the sting out of it.

  I looked up at him, amazed at the crinkles spanning his eyes, the lines that appeared with each and every smile. When he was stony-faced, as he often was behind the computer screen, he looked too perfect to be real.

  He was gorgeous with his dark hair and gorgeously contrasting olive skin.

  But in real life, with just the bare few inches between us, I saw the imperfections. Saw the pieces of the man that made him authentic, and to me, he was a thousand times more beautiful than he’d been earlier.

  The realization had me swallowing, and maybe he saw the shift in my mood because the heat was replaced with a dark, sinuous velvet promise that curled around me like the best hug in the universe.

  Which was strange because I knew the last thing he wanted to do was hug me right then, and that fact didn’t freak me the hell out.

  “Max! What are you doing here?”