Bedding The Billionaire (5 page)

He quickly showered in ice-cold water to dampen his
erection, then dressed in light beige trousers and a casual white cotton shirt
with the sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons left undone. He made sure he
was wearing his tightest shorts underneath. It may be painful if she got him
excited, but it would keep him in check.

Something told him she was going to make him excited
just by looking at him through those thick black lashes.

Nick barely noticed the heat outside. He couldn't stop
thinking about Abbey.

"Hi." Abbey emerged through the glass door
to the bar. She pouted at him, her lower lip protruding. Kissable.

"Not having second thoughts, I hope," she
said lightly. She grinned.

He hesitated, caught between his warring emotions. He
should go. He didn't need a hooker. Finally, pride won
—
he didn't
run away from anything, especially a challenge.

"No, of course not." He had to pay her for
last night anyway. He might as well have a few drinks, pay her then send her on
her way. He didn't have to succumb a second time, but it was common decency to
pay for the services he'd already used.

"I ordered us a bottle of Chardonnay," she
said opening the door for him. "I hope that's okay."

"As long as it's cold."

She turned and glanced at him over one naked shoulder,
a cheeky smile playing on her lips. "A bit hot and bothered today are
you?"

"Hot, yes. Bothered, never."

They sat at a table in a dark corner of the
restaurant. The red and black décor was modern and fresh. The wine list was
long and didn't have prices, and the waiters wore crisp black suits. Thankfully,
it was cooler inside than out, but it wasn't cold like many places are in
summer with their air conditioning turned up too high.

A few other patrons sat alone on bar stools, or in
couples in other dark, recessed booths. Considering it was Tuesday night, it
was probably as busy as the place would get.

Good. It was unlikely he would see anyone from the
seminar. He sat with his back facing the door just in case.

Abbey sipped her wine. She looked sensational with her
sunglasses perched on top of her head, holding her mass of hair off her face. Nick
liked that. He liked to see her features
—
she was an extremely
attractive woman.

Her makeup wasn't as heavy as the night before, which
was a good thing too. He liked his women to wear as little makeup as possible,
and she didn't really need it.

His gaze
wandered lower to her breasts land the strapless top. Not really appropriate
for such a salubrious place. She looked like a hooker.

"You seem uncomfortable," Abbey said, a
cheeky grin lighting up her face.

Nick liked the way she seemed to find everything
amusing.

"Worried about being seen with me?" she
asked.

"No! No, of course not." He shrugged. "I
don't know anyone in Melbourne anyway, so..."

Abbey glanced down at the fingers cradling the stem of
her glass. "I see." Her hand reached down under the table. Although Nick
couldn't see, from the way she moved it appeared she was trying to cover up the
split in her skirt. It didn't matter, the table cloth was floor length and
covered everything from the waist down anyway.

As if suddenly realizing, Abbey's hand returned to the
tabletop and she clasped her fingers together, placing her elbows on the table
and resting her chin on her knuckles. Trying to cover her breasts?

Had he made her feel that self-conscious? Impossible. Hookers
didn't get uncomfortable in revealing outfits.

He sipped his wine, swirling it around his palette
before swallowing. A nice vintage. He wondered whether Abbey had taken pot luck
when she ordered it, or whether she actually knew a good wine from a bad one
without a price tag to check. In reality, it was probably neither. No doubt
she'd asked the waiter before she ordered.

"Nice wine," he said, wanting to fill the
silence.

"It's one of my favorites. I always order
it—" She stopped and glanced away.

Another awkward silence stretched between them, and Nick
suddenly regretted coming. Sex was one thing, but making small talk with a
woman he barely knew was awful. He'd much rather skip this part of the evening.

"How was your conference?" Abbey asked with
a polite smile.

"How did you know about that?"

She shrugged. "They told me."

"They?"

"Hotel management. You know, complementary
massage and all that. I asked what you're here for and they said a software
conference at the Crown Complex."

"Seminar," Nick corrected. So she was going
to stick with the free massage story. Fine, he could play along.

"So you're a salesman for a software firm. How
exciting."

She was a terrible actress. Her eyes glazed over in
boredom when she said the words salesman and software. He couldn't blame her
—
it
did sound dull.

But it irritated him that she thought he was just a
salesman, working for just another software company. Not the owner and CEO of
the most prestigious and lucrative technology firm in the entire southern
hemisphere.

It irritated him even more that he couldn't tell her
the truth either. She thought he was Damien Vane. The hotel thought he was
Damien Vane. The potential clients at the seminar thought he was Damien Vane.

He'd decided before he left Sydney that he couldn't
tell anyone the truth. It could ruin his chances of selling the software. The
clients were ruthless, and they knew Vane was one of the greatest marketing
geniuses in the software industry. He'd been in software for twenty years, a
long time in this rapidly changing business. He had a stellar reputation.

Nick Delaware had no marketing experience and no
software experience. He was an investor who injected money and business acumen
into financially struggling companies with loads of potential then sold them
for huge profits. As far as the seminar attendees were concerned, Nick Delaware
knew nothing about software. They'd be insulted if an investor
—
albeit
a good one
—
was trying to sell them a solution to their data
warehousing problems. They wouldn't touch Software Solutions' application with
a barge pole if Nick Delaware was trying to sell it to them, but with Damien
Vane up there on the podium conducting demonstrations, they would lap it up.

And they were. So far everyone assumed he was Vane. These
men and women were I.T. professionals at heart who got a kick out of the latest
technology. They sat at their computers most days; they didn't move in the
circles he moved in, and they'd never met Vane, an American. Nick was media
shy, preferring not to have photos of himself taken, even for the website. None
of the attendees would ever know about the switch.

As soon as he got back to Sydney he was going to fire
Vane, replace him with a tee-totaling celibate. He was slipping anyway, an
unreliable has been. Still no one outside Software Solutions would know that it
was the company's owner who'd done the demonstrations.

"Actually I'm the Vice President of
Marketing."

Abbey nodded. "Right. Very impressive. So it all
went well today?"

Nick nodded then caught himself. He needed to steer
clear of this topic if he didn't want to reveal his identity. She thought she
was getting Vane
—
he might as well take advantage of the
misunderstanding. "Abbey, I don't really want to discuss work." He
leaned back in his chair. "Tell me about you."

She sat up straight and blinked at him. "Um, okay.
What do you want to know?"

Good question. What did he want to know? Did he want
to know anything about her at all, or would he rather keep a safe, unemotional
distance? Best to keep the conversation polite but friendly.

"Have you lived in Melbourne all your life?"

She nodded. "Like it?"

She shrugged. "It's okay. I'd really like to
travel to Europe though."

"Anywhere in particular or just Europe in
general?"

"France."

"Really? I was there last year."

Abbey's mouth dropped and her eyes widened. "What's
it like? Is Paris as beautiful as they say?"

"I don't know who 'they' are or what they say
about Paris, but yes, it's a beautiful city. Very romantic. Well, I was there
for work, but I'm sure it would be romantic if I had female company."

Nick realized he should have said his wife. Vane was
married. Did she even know Vane was married?

Abbey grinned. It was spectacular
—
the
sort of smile that changed a pretty face into an extraordinary one. It was also
highly contagious. He couldn't help but grin back.

"You should've had a holiday while you were
there," she said. "You know, added another week on the end, after
your business was finished. That's what I would have done if I were ever lucky
enough to go to Paris for work."

"Easier said than done. I had to fly back to
Sydney. It's difficult to be away from the office for long."

"Your boss sounds like a task master."

Nick laughed. "He is. But that's okay, I like
what I do. It's my passion."

She frowned. "Strange passion. Perhaps if you had
a hobby you'd learn to relax a little more. You could take up yoga or bush
walking."

Nick crossed his arms in front of him on the table. This
woman was getting a little presumptuous telling him what he should and
shouldn't do. And who said he wasn't relaxed? He was; just enough to keep his
staff happy without allowing them to walk all over him.

"I have responsibilities to my employees. I can't
just take time off here and there when I feel like it."

She shrugged. "I don't see why not. All work and
no play makes Damien a very dull man."

She thought he was dull? "I wasn't always a
workaholic," he said defensively, not really sure why he felt the urge to
alter her perception of him. "I used to be pretty wild when I was
younger."

"Really? Tell me about it."

He laughed. "You're nosy, aren't you?"

She shrugged two deliciously naked shoulders. "I'm
just being friendly."

Right. Friendly. She was just making small talk with
the man who owed her money. It's what she did, a mechanism to lull him into a
false sense of security, to loosen him up for later. This woman knew exactly
what she was doing and it had nothing to do with being interested in his
childhood. Well, she could forget about trying to make polite small talk with
him. He wasn't about to fall for her tricks.

"I think we'll drop that topic of
conversation," he said.

Abbey sat back in her chair, surveying him through
unblinking eyes. "Yes, Sir!"

Nick flinched at the mocking tone.

"Let's talk about something you don't mind
talking about then," she said, a smile twitching her plump lips again. Kissable
lips.

Her smile had an amazing ability to relax him. Nick
Delaware wasn't used to being relaxed. It spread a warm, caressing sensation
over his skin.

"Like what?"

"Where else have you been? Other than France, I
mean."

He shrugged. "You name it, I've probably been
there."

"Wow. Really?" She leaned forward
conspiratorially. "Either you're incredibly rich or you've got a great
job."

He laughed. She was sassy, he had to give her that. He
ignored the first part of her question altogether. "The job takes me
places but I never really get to see them. Not the way I want to."

"Which is?"

"Slowly. I'd rather take my time. Spend a few
weeks in a village in Tuscany or on felucca floating down the Nile." He
shrugged. "All I get to see is the inside of a hotel room and an office
block or two. Not very interesting."

It wasn't entirely a lie. He'd traveled around the
world when he was in his early twenties, care of a trust fund and family money.
But since he'd started his own business investing in other companies, he didn't
get to see much of the cities he visited.

"Ooh, yes, Egypt," Abbey crooned. "Another
place I want to visit. I love ancient history. I even thought about becoming an
archaeologist but it meant an extra three years and I'd already had enough of
study after finishing my Arts degree."

Nick raised his eyebrows as Abbey's drew together. She
coughed and looked away.

But Nick wasn't going to let that one slide by. "You
went to university? What did you major in? Sensual massage?"

Abbey's lips twitched, fighting a grin. Eventually the
grin won.

"Very funny," she said taking a sip of wine.

He opened his mouth to ask her what she really did
major in, but she held up a finger.

"That topic's off limits."

Like hell. "No. I want to know more."

"I said it's off limits. Got it?" Her voice
was low and she spoke through clenched teeth.