The Billionaire's Bauble Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Title Page

  THE BILLIONAIRE’S

  BAUBLE

  ANN MONTCLAIR

  SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

  New York

  Copyright

  THE BILLIONAIRE’S BAUBLE

  Copyright©2011

  ANN MONTCLAIR

  Cover Design by Rae Monet, Inc.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the priority written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America by

  Soul Mate Publishing

  P.O. Box 24

  Macedon, New York, 14502

  ISBN-13: 978-1-61935-060-1

  ISBN-10: 1-61935-060-2

  www.SoulMatePublishing.com

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  Dedication

  For my husband, Vince,

  and my children, Morgan and Vincent Peter.

  Acknowledgements

  I gratefully acknowledge my family, my students, my colleagues and friends, my education, and my faith for aiding me in every aspect of my life. It is to all of the aforementioned that I owe completion of this work of fiction. I also thank my readers—who I hope will never settle for anything less than happily ever after.

  Chapter 1

  “I’ll be all yours in a moment, Ms. Porter,” David said absentmindedly to the final interviewee entering his plush Fairbanks office. The walnut and steel door swooshed closed as the woman approached his desk. He didn’t glance up from his paper pile, but he could smell a hint of Chanel perfume, and he already liked the confident click clack of the candidate’s heels across his tiled office floor.

  “Yes, sir. Take all the time you need,” the applicant purred, and remained standing, waiting for David to ask her to be seated.

  He enjoyed making his prospective employees squirm—just a bit—as they waited to find out if their futures would be linked with his Fortune 500 company. Everyone wanted a piece of the pie, but only one person would be hired to become the newest administrative assistant to the CEO and owner of the billion dollar enterprise.

  David Grant required a team of personal aids to scurry after him and keep things running smoothly so he could wrangle the S & P and rough up those big city corporate honchos. He smiled to himself. The new figures looked strong, and Grant Oil was set to double up.

  David slowly lifted his eyes to observe every detail of the young woman.

  He started at her shoes, a serviceable pair of two-inch heels. Check. She wasn’t wearing stilettos, a sure sign of self-indulgence if worn to the office. Good.

  Her legs were lean but strong; he could see calf muscle but no knee. Check. Modesty was key to creating a productive workplace. He didn’t want to see thighs at Grant Oil. He demanded a focused environment, and that meant no glimpses of distracting flesh.

  As his inquisitive eyes moved to the woman’s hips, he noted she was full figured despite her athletic legs. Her blue wool pencil skirt did little to hide her feminine curves. Wool was a smart choice because June could be quite cool in Fairbanks, despite the sun’s bright glare.

  Her arms were to her sides and her fingers hung loosely. Light pink paint adorned each small nail. No wedding ring decorated her slim pale fingers, though she had quite a nice ornament on her left pinky finger. A 2-carat diamond sparkled in the late afternoon sunshine coming through the giant paned window above his desk. Terrific. She didn’t have a husband to keep her home. David needed assistants who moved as quickly as he did.

  The woman’s matching suit coat jacket was finely tailored, and the small leather covered buttons were undone so David could see the crisp white silk shirt that almost disguised a full bosom.

  Her throat was long and he could see a pulse. Good. She was nervous, despite her calm demeanor. A few wisps of auburn hair had escaped from her chignon, but they curled artfully along her neck, just touching her suited shoulder. David appreciated the softness a few misplaced hairs could lend to a businesswoman. A woman should be soft—even in the rugged oil business. He wanted a woman to be a woman.

  As he continued his deliberate perusal, he noted her dimpled chin, full pink lips, and pert nose. When he finally arrived at her eyes, he almost lost his composure.

  “It’s you,” he managed as his throat clamped tight. If he had been kicked in the gut, he couldn’t have been more affected.

  A quick flash of recognition quickly became all business as her brilliant green eyes smiled at him, twinkled even. She extended her hand across his glass-topped desk and said, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Grant. Thank you for the opportunity.”

  David felt her small hand go instantly hot. He stood then, and she stepped back, pulling her hand from his strong grip. He could see a flash of confusion and then determination well up in her remarkable eyes.

  “I understand you are here for a position in my company,” he assuaged. He read her name from the top of her resume again: Sloane Porter. “I apologize for my familiarity, Ms. Porter, but you are the woman I danced with a couple of years ago at Hal’s. Right?”

  Her eyes fell to the desktop. “I’m not sure, sir,” Sloane lied.

  “Please sit down, Ms. Porter,” he said. His voice sounded annoyingly tight, maybe even gruff, as he motioned her into the sleek steel and leather chair across the desk from his own larger executive leather chair.

  He sat heavily, shaking his head in disbelief. She certainly must remember the night in question. David knew he hadn’t been able to forget the way she had wend her way to his table and asked him to dance. It had only been one dance, but the heat between them had ignited into a long, slow, amazing kiss—a kiss that had left him wanting to unhook her bra and remove her panties. It hadn’t gone anywhere. The music ended and she left.

  No one left David Grant–well, almost no one—and he had not forgotten her. Not for a minute.

  But now she was here, in the glorious flesh, and she looked as beautiful as he remembered. He shifted in his chair as his body recalled the thunderous response she had provoked, in fact was provoking again right now.

  David tore his steely eyes from her emerald gaze, and settled his attention upon her brief resume.

  Sloane Porter
was fresh out of college and eager to make a start in executive management, he read. Her experience was negligible, but her GPA and honors status at the Alaskan university from which she’d just matriculated had recommended her for the job. That and the fact that she had managed to impress his formidable secretary. Bev couldn’t work with just anybody, and David typically agreed with her preferences.

  As he lifted his eyes again, David saw the smile shaking at the corners of Sloane’s luscious lips. He almost reached across to touch the tender spot his mouth had plundered two long years ago. But he stopped himself, cleared his throat, and said, “I have reviewed your credentials. Almost a hundred people applied, but only three made it into my office. You are one of those few.”

  His compliment eased the tick building in her jaw line, but the smile he flashed her, toothsome and speculative, seemed to startle her. She sat back further in her chair, looking for all the world like a small animal avoiding a trap. He again lowered his piercing glance.

  “Tell me. What makes you qualified to be my personal assistant? I am the CEO and owner of Grant Oil, and I require a lot of attention.” He tried to jest, but his words hung in the air unanswered.

  Sloane stared at his mouth as he spoke. The moment seemed to last forever, until she whispered, “Yes.”

  “Excuse me, Ms. Porter.” David leaned across the desk, not wanting to miss a word. Sloane raised her eyes to his. He saw in them the same look he remembered her casting his way as the dance ended and their lips parted.

  She had gazed at him with such raw desire that night, he had wanted to take her then, out in the parking lot in his SUV, like a teenager. He’d never meant to be there, a rather raunchy college watering hole, but the wildcatters were young, and they’d insisted on the loud establishment. Once the deal had been sealed and the boys said adios, David had spotted Sloane across the dance floor. He watched her for hours until she finally approached him in her skintight blue jeans and red silk halter-top.

  “Yes, I am the one at Hal’s. I’m the girl you danced with, you kissed.” Sloane exhaled as if she had been holding her breath.

  “You kissed me back as I recall,” he rejoined, and his grin became even bigger as he remembered the way her tongue had lapped hungrily at his mouth.

  “Um, yes, maybe. I don’t know about any of that, but I do know I need this job. I mean, I really need it.” She blushed a bit, but her eyes finally locked on his, and he almost groaned at the openness there. This young woman needed work. That or she was one hell of an actress.

  He drank in her curvaceous beauty before revealing, “I looked for you that night. I followed you into the parking lot, and you almost ran me over. You were gone before I could even get your name or your license plate number.” He chuckled softly at the memory. The snow had been falling on another endless Alaskan winter night, but he remembered being as hot as an overworked oil drill. He’d stood for ten minutes looking at the tire tracks in the slush, wanting to read them like animal tracks, wanting to divine her location, her identity. But now she was here, had materialized like a shiny jewel, and she wanted him, or wanted something from him. He could feel it. David deliberately slowed his excitement. Acquisition was in his blood. He must proceed with caution.

  “I apologize for running away,” she lamely offered, and one side of her mouth lifted in wry acknowledgement. “I acted like a child. I’m not that same silly girl. My dad taught me to finish what I start. I was just so surprised by the intensity of . . .” She glanced away, color rising in her cheeks. “Why didn’t you look for me?”

  He thought he heard a tinge of regret in her sultry voice. He answered honestly. “I thought you might be underage. I thought you . . .” He broke off for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. “Well, here you are all grown up, and there’s no need for regret, Sloane. We have time to ‘finish’ today—plenty of time.” When he spoke her name, a shiver worked its way up his taut back. Sloane. Sloane Porter. Mmmm, the name felt good in his mouth, in his mind, after wanting to know it for so long.

  Her sparkling eyes grew even wider at his familiar tone, at the lust he was sure radiated from his eyes. David was drawn like a magnet to her side. Like a stealthy hunter, he navigated around the massive desk in an instant, and Sloane gasped as he knelt before her and put his giant hands to either side of her face.

  He felt her fine cheekbones with his thumbs, and she closed her immense, luminous eyes. She wore little makeup, but her lashes were long, and they swept along his fingertips. He bent forward and kissed her quizzical brows, the wrinkle between them, the tops of her cheeks. His kisses feathered her face, and she sighed deeply before relinquishing her mouth to his.

  “I have waited two years to do this,” he breathed the words into her open mouth before dipping his tongue inside. She smelled like sugared coffee, and tasted like strawberry muffins. He wanted to eat her up, but he settled for a kiss, this one as deep, as penetrating as the one they shared that night at the bar.

  As he pulled his lips from hers, David wrapped his arms around her shoulders and buried his face in her neck, inhaling the expensive perfume she wore. It was as if they were back on the crowded dance floor, so immediate was his need for her.

  “I want you, Sloane Porter. I must have you.” He put his hands in her hair and pulled the clip from the glossy strands. Her russet locks covered her shoulders, and she rolled her head back, exposing the hollow at the base of her throat. He groaned as he put his mouth there, and he let his tongue trace the circle of flesh. He began to unbutton her blouse, and she fumbled with his hands, finally pushing them away and kissing him again while she impatiently tore at the silky fabric.

  Once her shirt was opened, David let his mouth explore her exquisite collarbones, then the line of her breastbone, finally burying his lips between the soft mounds of her breasts. Her lacy beige bra could barely contain them, and David moved his hands to her back where he unsnapped her bra.

  With a gasp David didn’t know came from his own tight throat, her ample breasts tumbled out of her bra, and he gazed at the perfect, natural orbs, exposed in the sunshine. Her nipples were rosy pink and stiff—perfect buds to be feasted upon. He gazed at her with open admiration, and she returned his frank stare.

  “Mr. Grant, I don’t think I’m right for this job.”

  “No, you’re perfect,” David managed as he eyed Sloane hungrily. She stood suddenly, and the motion knocked David off balance. Afraid she would bolt again, he grabbed the fabric of her skirt at the hem, and held tight. Sloane quickly re-clipped her bra and buttoned her shirt. She seemed studied at seduction, at pulling back just when she almost had . . .

  David stood up. “Sloane, don’t leave. Don’t run away from me.” His tone was husky, but firm. He towered above her, so he took a step back. He didn’t want to scare her away. Not this time.

  He turned away from her as she continued to adjust her clothing. Feeling his own composure return, he realized he had to play it slowly, carefully, or he risked losing this spectacular gem. He sauntered back around his desk and hit the intercom button on his phone. “Bev, please call candidate number two and tell him to come to Human Resources tomorrow morning. He’s my choice. And Bev, please order in from AJ’s—the prime rib and lobster for two. I want it delivered in half hour. You can go home once those tasks are completed.”

  “Yes, sir,” came Bev’s curt response, and David grinned. Bev would make him pay for this indiscretion. He knew Sloane was her first choice for the position, but David needed to put Sloane in a different position, preferably several before the night was through.

  “Now, where were we, Sloane?” David asked, feeling infinitely pleased with the situation.

  After calmly smoothing her clothing and securing her long hair into its clip, Sloane sat back down in her chair. David watched as her hands fluttered then came to rest in her lap. She was so young and beautiful, so utterly bright, shiny and new. David wanted to take his time and enjoy this bauble.

  “We were at findin
g me employment, Mr. Grant. I came here for a job, and I plan to get one.” Her chin was raised and her shoulders squared. David admired her composure after the heat they’d just exchanged. “But definitely not here,” she said, exasperation edging into her voice. “I can’t work for you, not after this, not after today.”

  “Yes, you are correct,” he smoothly countered. “I have better plans for you, starting with lobster and ending in my bedroom.”

  “Mr. Grant!” she nearly cried, and her pale skin blotched with the effort of controlling her rising temper. Oh, she was a hot one, he thought, and he watched in fascination as her fantastically round breasts again began to rise and fall more rapidly. He almost licked his lips in anticipation.

  “Ms. Porter, I have many friends in high places, and I assure you, your, um, skills, will not go to waste.” He could see by her wide eyes and oh-shaped mouth he had shocked her. He chuckled devilishly. “Your office skills, your management skills, not your physical skills,” he calmly stated, and Sloane’s shoulders relaxed, though she did not return his smile.

  “You are obviously a young woman of style and means,” he continued as he eyed her expensive diamond ring and the label on her designer bag. “Why so desperate for work?” He had his own ideas, and none of them charitable. David was all too familiar with women who wanted nothing more than a man’s wallet. In his experience, work was just an idea for women as beautiful as Sloane.

  Sloane took a deep breath and met his unwavering gaze. “I’ll have to go home to New York if I don’t find a job soon. My funds won’t allow me to stay in Alaska unless I get a paycheck.”

  David took this in without blinking. It seemed unlikely she would starve, but who knows, maybe she did need a job. More likely she needed a new sugar daddy. David understood that was the way many gorgeous women earned their keep.