MATCHMAKER (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance) (10 page)

“What’s wrong with Sterling?”

“I haven’t seen him for an hour or so. What are you talking about?”

“He looked like he was having a panic attack or something. When I asked about it he snapped at me. He seemed really mad, and I was kind of scared of him.”

Cherise tried to think of something that would have set him off. Certainly not her dinner with Eric… It was ridiculous to think his fit could be about her. But she couldn’t have Jenna being scared of Sterling.

“Did you check if Ambrosia is all right?” It was the first thing Cherise could think of, the only thing she could imagine that would rile Sterling up into such a state.

“No.”

Worried now, Cherise pushed past Jenna and down the hall to Sterling’s suite. She knocked twice, then opened the door, peering inside. Ambrosia lay on her dog bed in a patch of sun, lifting her white-muzzled head lazily when the women came in. She tapped her tail on the floor and rolled onto her back for belly rubs. Cherise obliged her, finding the spot on her stomach that made her back leg twitch.

“So it wasn’t the dog,” Jenna said. “What else could make him so mad?”

Cherise debated what to say, how to save this. Sterling owed her big time. Owed her
huge.
“Has he told you about Ben’s health?” Cherise asked.

“I know he’s not well.”

For another second, she debated, then spat it out. “It’s cancer. The prognosis isn’t good. For all his debonair exterior, Sterling’s…”
Oh, how to phrase what she’d observed over these past few months?
“He’s not really good with people or feelings. I know he’s trying to get better, and it would crush him to know he’d upset you. But I bet he’s upset about Ben. And the dog. She’s not doing so great either.”

Cherise looked down at Ambrosia as she said it, and the dog rolled onto her back, all four legs in the air. “I don’t know, but that’s what I’d put my money on having upset him. Maybe he’ll be ready to talk about it in a bit. He doesn’t like to show weakness, and you probably caught him in a vulnerable moment.”

“He said he wants to marry me.” Jenna sat primly on the edge of the bed and folded her hands over her knees.

Cherise put on a surprised face. “He proposed?”

“No, not exactly. He just said he wanted to be married before Ben died—he wants Ben to be there.”

“So it makes sense that he’s thinking about all this stuff and is upset.”

“He seemed so mad at me.”

“I bet he was mad at himself.” Cherise wondered if she were defending a monster here, setting Jenna up for failure—for a cold and loveless marriage. As always, her mind came back to the money.

“He’s not perfect. He’s got a lot of his own shit he’s trying to work through. But he’s a good guy. I promise.”

She wasn’t lying. He was a good guy. A great guy. She thought about how he’d helped her when Ricky left. How he’d been so patient and warm when they were rock climbing. He had two sides, the billionaire and the man, and sometimes, they fought one another. If only he could see he needed to let the man win more often. She’d talk to him in the morning about it.

“Where are you guys going for dinner?”

“You’re not coming?” Jenna’s face fell.

“You’re never going to believe it. Eric—Ben’s assistant Eric—asked me to go to dinner with him. Like a date!”

The girly gossip brought Jenna alive. “Oh, my goodness! What are you going to wear?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Let’s go look. I’m sure by the time Sterling gets back, he’ll be all sorted out and will be so sorry he got upset with you.”

Jenna followed Cherise back into her own room. Ambrosia came too, limping along behind them and flopping on the floor in a black heap.

Jenna picked through the closet, all dresses Sterling’s personal shopper had bought her. She narrowed it down to a classic little black dress and the green one Sterling asked her to wear tonight. Would he see it as a big ‘fuck you’ if she wore the dress to dinner with Eric instead? Cherise decided her main job was to keep Jenna happy, and she would do whatever Jenna needed her to.

“I like the cut of the black one,” Jenna said, explaining her logic, “but we’re in a tropical place. You need something more fun. Do the green one. Wear the black one back in New York to a museum function or a gala opening of something. What do you have for shoes? What do you have for makeup?”

# # #

Cherise wore the green dress and a pair of tan heels with gold jewelry. Jenna did her makeup for her in shimmery green and gold in a way that actually managed to look classy instead of streetwalker.

She caught Sterling’s eye before he and Jenna left for dinner looking casual and not nearly as dolled up as Cherise. She couldn’t read the look he gave her, so she dropped her gaze and pretended to focus on her cell phone.

Eric arrived a few minutes before nine, and Cherise was happy to see he was dressed up, too.

“You look beautiful.” He got out and held the door of his Jaguar for her. Apparently, Ben paid a good salary. Cherise wondered what he would do when his employer passed away.

He took her to a little beachside place, and they sat at a table on the sand lit by strings of white, twinkly lights. They talked about where they went to school. She learned Eric had a master’s in communication. “Lot of good it’s doing me, as you can see.”

“Hey, you don’t see me using mine at the moment, either. I want to get my PhD.”

“Do you want to teach, or do you want to open a practice?”

“I haven’t quite decided what I want to do yet. I really like research. I really like studying why people do the things they do.”

It made her think, sitting with him under the stars. Why was she doing what she was doing? She couldn’t tell if she was here to make Sterling jealous or if she thought she should have a nice night out with an available, appropriate man. She kept glancing at her watch, wondering how Sterling and Jenna were doing. She half hoped it was going well, half willed their evening to tank.

She tried so hard to focus on Eric and the things he talked about. He should have been everything she wanted—handsome, kind, and articulate. But her mind was filled with all things Sterling.

It struck her as funny that sitting here, for the first time, she was able to admit to herself she’d fallen for her boss. Of course, it had happened some time ago, but she couldn’t see it until now. She knew she should leave the job, but then she’d never see him again.

“Can I get you another drink?”

Her head was already swimming, the taste of good tequila blending with the ceviche she’d had for dinner. She supposed this was the point of no return. Be responsible, decline the offer, and go back to her giant bed where she could think about Sterling? Or say yes and try to have some fun?

“That would be great, thanks.”

Eric flagged down the waiter and got another margarita for Cherise and a Jack and Coke for himself.

The ocean lapped against the sand, and lights twinkled from a cruise ship moored offshore. They sipped their drinks, ordered another round, and by the time they were ready to go, Cherise kicked off her heels and held them in her hand. Before going back to the car, they walked to the edge of the water. The tide was going out, leaving shells and treasures on the sand. Cherise stooped to pick up a little starfish and held it in the palm of her hand. Its little sucker legs tickled her skin.

“Dominica is beautiful.” She’d never been anywhere like it. She hadn’t really travelled much. A little bit around South Africa and once into Zimbabwe on a school trip. Then to New York. She hadn’t seen much of the US, either. She had been too focused on her studies. She never did the whole spring break thing in the Caribbean, never even went down to Florida. Now here she was, on this tiny tropical paradise, feeling the warm ocean on her toes, the cool sand under her heels, and Eric’s hand holding hers.

He kissed her neck, his mouth so gentle and warm she almost didn’t know it was there at first. Somehow, he was the same temperature as the air, which made her feel like she was in a float tank, not knowing where one thing ended and another began. Or maybe that was just the tequila.

She turned into him, dropping her four-hundred-dollar shoes on the sand, and wrapped her arms around his neck. They kissed. He felt strong and solid under her hold. He had the physique of someone who lifted weights and paid a lot of attention to his shape and form.

Eric led her away from the lights to a section of the beach wrapped in darkness. He sat her down on the sand and pushed her green dress up over her hips. She’d worn miniscule, black, G-string panties, barely there against her dark skin. Eric caressed her hips and ran his fingers over and around the lines of the underwear. She wanted him. Wanted to fill the void she felt for Sterling. It made her feel guilty to think like that.

With gentle fingers, he pulled the panties off and set them carefully in the sand nearby. When he started kissing the cleft between her legs, he was so gentle, the only way she knew he was there was the light scraping of his stubble against her smooth skin. She wanted more. Wanted Sterling’s rough aggression. This man was so careful, so tender, it didn’t scratch the burning itch inside her.

What would Sterling do, she wondered, if she got back to Ben’s mansion and sought him out in his suite? At the thought of him, a little moan escaped her lips, and Eric took this as encouragement. He pressed harder, which was good. Cherise leaned back in the cool night sand, tilting her hips towards him, wanting him inside her.

“Let’s go back to my place,” he whispered.

“Okay,” she agreed.

“Less sand there.”

He had a fair point. It was sexy in theory but not in practicality, and she collected her panties, slipping them into her handbag.

He took her to a little efficiency apartment, one it seemed clear he hadn’t ever truly moved into. The queen-sized bed sat neatly made, and he scooped her up and carried her to it. He tossed her down, and the motion pushed her skirt up, exposing her. He climbed on top of her, fumbling with his belt, tugging his pants down. He rolled a condom on, something she and Sterling had been remiss about, which made her feel a little guilty. He pushed into her. Working her hips, she met his thrusts. He wasn’t as experienced as Sterling—
Stop thinking about Sterling! Stop comparing everything the poor man does to Sterling!

Cherise tried to lean back and enjoy the sensations of him on her. She stopped him, rolled him over, and rode him, letting him relax and let her do the work of positioning him where she needed him, riding him to meet her needs. The sensations were pleasant. She didn’t regret being here, but he wasn’t rocking her world. She felt like she was betraying something… Why did it take a rich, white guy to satisfy her when Eric was so nice, so appropriate? Her parents and friends would all love him the way they never would Sterling. She chided herself for not enjoying the feel of him more, aware that every iota of over-analysis and scrutiny bled the pleasure out of the experience.

What was it about Sterling that let her mind run free, let her experience the moment without this kind of examination?

Eric came with his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight, panting into her neck. She didn’t, and while she was disappointed, she didn’t really mind. She flopped down beside him, aware she was still drunk and that the room was spinning.

“Can you take me back to the house tonight?” she said.

He said yes immediately, but the sloping shoulders of his body language told her he was disappointed. She didn’t want to make him sad, but she wanted to be in her own space, even if it was the suite at the villa. She wanted a place to drink water and be alone when she was sick in the morning. Too much tequila. It snuck up on her when she wasn’t careful.

They didn’t talk much on the drive back, the car’s engine purring the only sound. The mansion was dark when he pulled up, and luckily, he carried a set of keys to let her in.

“Well,” he said. “Goodnight.”

They shared an awkward kiss on the lips, one devoid of any kind of passion. Then he left her alone in the darkness, her head swimming.

“Well, how was it?”

Sterling’s voice in the dark made her jump, and she wobbled in her heels. He was there to catch her, his hands warm, his climber’s arms strong.

“How was what?” She was being intentionally obtuse, and she suspected he knew it.

“You smell like you rolled in a bottle of tequila,” he said. “Drink some water. Here, come on.” He sat her down on a chair in the kitchen and brought her a cool glass of water. “Let me get you some aspirin, too.”

She drank obediently, and when he returned holding out two pills, she took them without question.

“I want to say thanks.”

“Thanks for what?” Cherise was all too aware she slurred her words.

“What you said to Jenna. She seemed pretty pissed, but you defused her.”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“Throw me under the bus?”

Cherise laughed, a little louder than she meant to. “We both know that wouldn’t work well for either one of us.”

Sterling chuckled, too. “You’re not wrong.” He took the empty glass and refilled it. “Drink. Another one.”