Serving the Billionaire (15 page)

“To dinner,” I said. “Like a date?”

He smiled, then, and I knew what my answer would be. The last two weeks had been horrible. I never wanted to be away from him.

“Like a date,” he agreed. “We can just... talk. Get to know each other. Eat some good food. What do you say?”

I closed my eyes, feeling joy rise up within me, irresistible. It was like that moment on a diving board, right before you leap. “Yes,” I said.

“Yes what,” he said.

“Yes, I will go on a date with you,” I said. I opened my eyes and smiled at him.

“Christ,” he said, and crossed the room in two strides. He sunk onto the sofa beside me and gathered me against him, wrapping his arms around me and kissing my hair. “Regan.”

I clung to him, overwhelmed, burying my face against his shoulder. He smelled so familiar. I didn’t know how I had survived without him.

“I wish you would quit this job and let me take care of you, but I won’t ask you to do that,” he said, his cheek pressed against my hair. “I know you value your independence, and you’ve worked hard to get to where you are. I don’t want to take that away from you.”

“Okay,” I said. I turned my face up toward him, and he kissed me on the corner of my mouth, warm, deliberate. He kissed my cheek and the corner of my eye, and then my mouth, gently at first, soft, tender kisses that quickly became more heated. He slid one hand into my hair and tugged my head back, holding me in place as he claimed my mouth with his own.

I had missed this. I
needed
this. I needed
him.

His hands slid down my body, skimming over my breasts and waist, and curled around my hips, drawing me close. I felt my body responding to him as it always did, eagerly, a sweet, yielding warmth spreading through me. It would be so easy to give in, to let him push me down onto the sofa and unbutton my blouse, shove my skirt up around my waist...

Reluctantly, I pushed him away. “I have to work,” I said.

He exhaled and drew one hand through his hair. “Right. That.” He grinned at me, a quick flash of white teeth. “I forgot.”

“I figured,” I said. I leaned in and kissed him, quickly, because I could do that now. I belonged to him.

We belonged to each other.

I stood up and straightened my skirt. “Tomorrow night,” I said. “I can meet you somewhere, or...”

“I’ll come pick you up,” he said. “If that’s okay with you.”

He was being so careful not to do anything wrong. “That would be great,” I said.

If someone had walked into the room at that point, they would have seen us smiling foolishly at each other, frozen there, me standing and him sitting on the sofa, both of our faces full of joy, unable to look away from each other.

I couldn’t remember ever being so happy.

And maybe things wouldn’t work out; maybe we would realize that we just didn’t have enough in common, or maybe he chewed with his mouth open, or had really terrible political beliefs, or talked during movies. Maybe we would date for a while and then go our separate ways. I didn’t
think
that would happen, but there was always that chance.

But even so, even if we didn’t spend our lives together, this was still my fairy tale ending.

Carter was worth the risk.

I bent down and kissed him again, unable to help myself. “Tomorrow night,” I repeated.

“Tomorrow,” he said.

As I left the room, I turned in the doorway to see him watching me, his eyes dark and full of promises that I knew he would keep.

Feeling bold, I blew him a kiss.

I went out into the club, buoyant as a helium balloon. I would work, and go home, and tomorrow—tomorrow—

I’d always thought I wasn’t a lucky person, that I was born under a bad star. But the way that Carter looked at me, like I was the only thing he wanted to see, I thought that maybe I had been wrong. I
was
lucky. I was luckier than I had any right to be.

I couldn’t wait to find out what happened next.

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T
HE END

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