The Courtship Maneuver, Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire Club BBW Romance) (3 page)

I’d never had any idea Sam might want to kiss me. I’d dreamed about it, but I hadn’t imagined those dreams might ever come true. Not that they had, really. In my dreams he didn’t kiss me breathless and then abruptly leave. What had he been thinking? Maybe he just hadn’t been laid in a while, I was convenient, and then he thought better of it. But that wasn’t like Sam. And anyway, I wasn’t the kind of woman who stirred men to uncontrollable lust.

Had he kissed me as a distraction? So I’d stop thinking about Nolan? If he had, it hadn’t worked. Now I had two things to worry about. My head ping-ponged between unsolvable problems, and I tossed and turned for hours before I finally managed to drop off into a restless sleep.

W
hat the fuck was that
? I left Chloe alone in my room as calmly as I could, then strode across the hall to my office. Thank God I kept a decanter of whiskey in here even though I rarely opened it. Filling one of the crystal glasses with a good three fingers of liquor, I threw myself onto the leather couch and tossed the alcohol back, relishing the burn in my throat as I swallowed.

What the fuck had I been thinking? The idea was to seduce her. Slowly. Subtly. To make her see me as more than just her boss and her friend. If I could come to her rescue and be her knight in shining armor while we looked for her brother, that had to help my cause. Attacking her in my bedroom, shoving her against the wall, and kissing her until she couldn’t breathe was not part of the plan.

But fuck, that kiss. She’d frozen at first, holding back as I’d pulled her closer. Once she’d gotten into it, she’d been like fire in my arms. Making little whimpers in the back of her throat, burying her fingers in my hair and pulling my face to hers. She’d wanted me to kiss her. If I’d stopped there, it might have been okay.

Instead I’d had to back her into the wall and get my hands all over her. Chloe was just too much temptation. That soft body and even softer skin. Her heat, her mouth, it was all too much, and I lost my head. The feeling of my palm stroking the side of her breast was almost enough to make me come in my jeans.

How sad was I? Totally out of control from one kiss. I’d been imagining kissing Chloe for months. To finally be doing it, my hands on her bare skin, the weight of her breast teasing my palm. Just thinking about it was killing me.

I tossed back the rest of the whiskey and got up. Acting before I could think better of it, I locked the door to my office and crossed the room, unzipping my jeans as I went. My cock was a steel bar, had been since well before I’d laid a finger on Chloe. I wanted to strip naked, go back into my bedroom and slide between the covers with her. Peel off the t-shirt I’d given her to wear and feast on her body.

I’d start between her legs, kiss her pussy like I’d kissed her mouth. After I made her come, I’d move up and spend some time on her breasts. A week might be long enough. And after that, when I’d had my fill of her breasts, I’d fuck her. Right then I thought I could fuck Chloe forever.

In reality, if I was really in bed with her, I’d probably last about a minute, I was so turned on. But that reality wasn’t going to happen. At least not tonight. I couldn’t afford to be distracted for long, so I stepped into the three quarter bath attached to my office and turned the shower on cold. Maybe between the icy water and my hand on my cock I could get my head back in the game.

With the sound of Chloe’s whimpers in my ears and the memory of her breast in my hand, I gripped my cock and began to stroke, the slick soap against my skin giving me just the right friction. Not as good as her pussy would be, but it was enough for now. Pressing my forehead to the cool tile of the shower, I pictured Chloe’s dazed eyes after our kiss, her ragged breathing, and the way her round, full breasts had looked the day we’d been caught in the rain.

The images swirled together into a dream Chloe, half naked, wet from the shower and eager for me. My eyes squeezed shut, I saw her as she dropped to her knees and took my cock in her mouth, soothing my need with hard, quick sucks. I wasn’t sure if the real Chloe had ever had a dick in her mouth, but my dream Chloe sucked me like she wasn’t afraid of my size. She took me deep and swallowed, letting the head of my cock into her throat. At the thought of how she’d look on her knees, her hungry eyes meeting mine, I came, my knees going weak as my orgasm painted the wall and was washed away.

I’d been stroking my cock to images of Chloe for months. But never after I’d just had her in my arms. If I didn’t fuck this up, maybe the next time I’d get the real thing. I finished my shower, pulled my boxers back on, and unlocked my door, leaving it open so I could hear if Chloe needed anything.

Then I pulled out the sofa bed and put on the sheets. When I was finally ready for sleep I did two last things. First, I called Axel and filled him in. He promised to get to work on finding Nolan immediately.

After I hung up, I left a message for Lola, my personal shopper. Like a lot of guys with busy jobs, I had a need for a professional wardrobe and no desire to shop. At the suggestion of my friend Dylan, I’d tried outsourcing my shopping to Lola at Neiman Marcus. She was a miracle. And she’d recently outfitted Dylan’s girlfriend with a whole new wardrobe.

Like Chloe, Dylan’s girl had curves. And Lola had known exactly how to dress them up. Chloe needed her. I didn’t care about the cost; I wanted Chloe to have whatever she needed. This was step two in my courtship.

I planned to use the excuse that she didn’t have anything at my house to wear. I left Lola a detailed description of Chloe, including her sizes, which I’d taken from the tag on her suit jacket and the shoes she’d abandoned in the kitchen. Sometime tomorrow I’d get a real start on my pursuit of Chloe. And maybe she’d forget all about tonight’s fuck-up. I could only hope.

W
hen I finally fell asleep
, I tossed and turned, haunted by vague dreams in which Nolan came home, beaten and scared, and then Sam showed up to take me away before I could find out what was wrong. I didn’t really pass out until just before dawn, then didn’t wake up for hours. Usually I was up with the sun whether I wanted to be or not. Normally, my body sensed day break and switched itself on, even if I’d just gotten to bed.

Sam’s room had heavy curtains along the wide, tall window. Very heavy curtains. They must have tricked my brain into thinking it was still night, because I slept until eleven. Sleep fell away slowly, and I rolled over in bed trying to get my bearings for a few minutes before I noticed the time. Realizing it was almost lunch, I bolted out of the bed and into the bathroom.

The heat of the shower soaked into me, calming me down as I rummaged through Sam’s shower for what I’d need. I’d found an unopened razor blade in a drawer, along with an unopened toothbrush. But I’d have to make do with his shampoo and other bath stuff. Squirting the shampoo into my palm I realized I had the source of the citrus side of Sam’s scent. Looking closer at the bottle I saw it was a combination shampoo/conditioner/body wash. I smiled and shook my head as I massaged in the lather.

Sam was rolling in money and he couldn’t be bothered to buy a separate shampoo and body wash. He’d grown his company into a huge success over the past ten years. By the time I’d joined Desert Vistas, they were already handling large scale developments in both Nevada and California. But Sam was still the same down-to-earth guy he’d always been.

Daniel had told me once that it didn’t seem to matter if he was in a tract home or his ten million dollar architectural marvel, a tux or his jeans. He was still Sam. He might have been able to afford the most expensive soap on earth, but he still bought the normal stuff everyone else got at the grocery store.

I dried off and tried not to enjoy smelling like Sam. I hoped he’d be back to normal today. We had a lot of things to do. Meeting with Axel, probably. We had to go back to my place to see if anything had been destroyed. And I wanted to look for the number of one of Nolan’s work friends to see if he knew anything. At some point we’d have to go in to the office. He had contracts to review and I didn’t even want to think about his inbox. Or mine.

Teeth brushed and hair combed, I looked around for my suit and blouse only to find them missing. I’d taken everything off the night before and laid them over the arm chair across from the bed. Now it was empty. Not sure what to do, I looked through Sam’s huge closet and found a robe hanging on the back of the door. It was huge, dragging on the floor behind my heels, but at least it covered me.

Resigned to the fact that I wasn’t going to find anything better, I tied it tight and went looking for Sam. His office door hung open, the pull-out still unfolded, the sheets half pulled up, as if he’d thought about making the bed and then changed his mind. I found him sitting on a stool at the bar in the kitchen, working on his laptop and sipping a cup of coffee. Seeing me hovering at the end of the hallway, he smiled.

“Finally awake?” he asked. “I thought you never slept in.”

“I don’t,” I said, tucking my wet hair behind my ear. Without my hair pins, which had disappeared along with my suit, my hair was springing into curls and waves as it dried. I liked to keep it contained, thinking it more professional, but little strands were always falling out, no matter what I did.

“Are you hungry? Marte made you breakfast. It’s in the warming oven. I ate a while ago.”

He was smirking at me for sleeping in, but I ignored him. It seemed like he was back to normal. Good. As wonderful as that kiss had been, I couldn’t afford for it to happen again. He was my boss, and I didn’t want to leave my job. I found a plate of french toast stuffed with cream cheese and a bowl of sliced fruit. Yum.

I shouldn’t eat it, but I was going to anyway. I’d been dieting lately - it felt like I was always dieting - but I was a stress eater, and with Nolan missing it didn’t seem like that big a deal to eat the French toast. I was making myself a cup of coffee when I asked,

“Did she take my clothes to wash? I can’t find my suit. Or my hairpins.”

“No. I threw them out.”

“What?” I almost spilled the full coffee cup in my hand when I whirled to face him. Sam was still studying his laptop screen and hadn’t bothered to look up.

“What do you mean you threw out my clothes? You can’t throw away my clothes. I need them.”

“No you don’t. Pick something off the table in the dining room.”

I put my mug down on the kitchen counter and stormed past the bar and into the dining room. Like the model home I’d been hiding in the night before, Sam’s house was an open plan on the main level. The great room, with its panoramic views of the Las Vegas strip, flowed into the kitchen on one side and the dining room on the other. I strode through, without admiring the view of desert and city, to find the long table completely covered in clothes. One end was stacked with shoe boxes and a chair was pulled out and covered in scarves and purses.

“WHAT IS THIS?!” I screeched. I’m not usually a screecher. Really. Not even a yeller. The stress of the past few days had me a little more emotional than usual, but I’m generally a pretty calm, level headed woman. This was just too much. I didn’t even know what it meant. “Where did all of this come from?”

“I asked Lola to drop it by. It’s for you,” Sam said from right behind me. I jumped, glad I’d left my coffee in the kitchen or I would have spilled it all over me. He could move quietly when he wanted to.

“Why, Sam? I have clothes.”

“Now you have new ones. Pick something to wear and I’ll explain.”

I surveyed the table, realizing on closer inspection that the clothes had been laid out as outfits, with accessories and shoes nearby. It was a dizzying array. I knew who Lola was, had even met her a few times when I needed to pick up a suit for Sam. She was elegant, with impeccable taste. I could see her hand in the wardrobe laid out on the table.

Suits, a few dresses, and embarrassingly, a pile of silk, satin, and lace that could only be lingerie. Even some loungewear, more elegant versions of the yoga pants and old t-shirts I usually wore after work.

Confused and not sure what to say to Sam, I picked up the closest suit, a light-weight raspberry wool with a coordinating cream shell sweater and silky scarf. Grabbing the matching slingback heels, underwear, and a bra, I turned and marched back to his bedroom without another word, hoping silence might accomplish what my screeching had not. Of course, since I wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, I didn’t really know what I was trying to do with my frosty quiet.

Maybe just get a little space to figure out what Sam was up to. Back in his room, I shut the door behind me and flipped the lock. Normally I’d never feel the need to lock the door against Sam, but nothing had been normal since Nolan had disappeared.

Stripping off the robe, I looked at the shell pink panties and bra in my hands and felt my cheeks turn red. Sam had purchased underwear for me. Not the plain cotton underwear and bras I got on sale at one of the big box stores. But real lingerie, the fabric was soft. The straps, wide enough to support my breasts, were both padded and embroidered so the bra was not only functional, it was beautiful as well. I didn’t want to guess at what it must have cost.

My hands shaking a little, I threaded my arms through the straps and pulled the bra into place. Miraculously, it fit. How had he known my bra size? It was ridiculous to blush this hard when no one could see me, but the idea that he’d correctly guessed the size of my breasts and bought me underwear led my thoughts in directions I wasn’t ready to explore.

Trying to stay focused, I pulled on the matching panties and contemplated the rest of my outfit. The suit was beautifully tailored, but I had my doubts about the skirt. In a pencil style, it was made to fit the hips, then flare out in kick-pleats just below the knees. Gorgeous. But my hips and pencil skirts were not friends. Never had been. Still, I couldn’t wear the robe all day.

Resigned to a fight with the zipper and not being able to sit comfortably all day, I stepped into the skirt and pulled it up, putting on the sleepless cream shell on top first so I wouldn’t be half naked while I fought with the skirt. To my shock, the skirt’s zipper slid up with ease, the fabric conforming to my butt and hips perfectly, not a straining seam anywhere. Not ready to look yet, I slid my feet into the heels and my arms into the jacket. Holding the scarf in my hand, I turned to look in the floor length mirror on Sam’s closet door.

I never would have picked a suit like this for myself. The color was too bright and the cut of the skirt would have scared me away. But the slightly dusky, rich raspberry pink wool suited the warm tones of my skin and light brown hair. And the fitted lines of the suit brought out the curves I was always trying to hide, making me look professional but still feminine.

I usually wore my hair in a bun, but without my pins it would have to stay down. The softer style looked good with the new suit. Torn between being annoyed at Sam and loving the outfit Lola had put together, I arranged the coordinating scarf and left the room, thinking that I needed the coffee I’d never had the chance to drink.

Striding into the kitchen, trying not to enjoy the feel of the new heels as they clicked against the hardwood floors, I froze when I saw Sam’s face. Warned of my arrival by the sound of my shoes coming down the hall, he’d looked up to see me enter. His blue eyes widened and his mouth dropped just a little. Then, alarmingly, those intent eyes narrowed, and he scanned me from head to toe, his expression satisfied and proprietary.

I pretended to ignore the shiver that went down my spine at his look and headed for my abandoned coffee sitting on the counter. Sam got to it first. Standing to block me, he scooped up the coffee mug and poured it out into the sink.

“It’s cold. Let me make you more.” He set up the single-cup brewer and slid my mug into place, ready to be filled. Turning to face me, he gave me another once over. “You look beautiful,” he said. “I’m throwing out the rest of your clothes, too. If everything Lola picked out looks as good as that suit, I’ll have to lock you in the office to keep all the guys away.”

I’m pretty sure my jaw dropped. Retorts spun in my mind, so many I didn’t know where to start. Sam had called me beautiful. He’d said I looked so good he’d have to lock me up. And he also said he was going to throw out the rest of my clothes. Clearly the visit to crazy town we’d taken last night when he’d kissed me was not over. My mind unable to process, I said the first thing that sprang to my lips.

“I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?” Sam asked, cocking an eyebrow at me. I’d always thought it was cute when he raised one eyebrow. At that moment I had the sudden urge to swat the arrogant expression off his face. I was unbalanced enough with Nolan missing. I didn’t need Sam to go nuts on me at the same time.

“Everything. Why am I here? Why didn’t you just take me to a hotel? And why would you ask Lola to buy me clothes? I have clothes.” I didn’t have the guts to mention the kiss the night before. Part of me still wondered if that had been a dream.

The coffee maker kicked on, and Sam concentrated on watching the cup fill with steaming liquid, avoiding my question.

“Sam?” I prompted in a quiet voice, beginning to worry. When the cup was full, he added a splash of cream, stirred and handed it to me. Leveling his eyes on my face, his expression serious, he said,

“I’m not sure you’re ready to talk about this.”

“I don’t even know what this is,” I answered, drinking the hot coffee to cover my confusion.

“I know. I’ve handled everything with you the wrong way from the beginning. I can’t fix that now. So we’re starting from scratch. And if I fuck it up, you’ll just have to bear with me.”

“Sam,” I said helplessly, his answer no answer at all. “What do you mean you handled me the wrong way?”

Leaning back against the counter, he picked up his own coffee and took a long sip, his eyes on my face. I couldn’t tell if he was studying my expression or trying to think of what to say. Maybe both. Finally, he spoke.