Right Billionaire, Wrong Wedding (Sexy Billionaires) Read online

  What else had he expected from his ever-perfect assistant? Allison had come today with her mind on their mission. The least he could do was get his out of the gutter.

  Come on, King. You’re better than this, he scolded himself. Time to step up to the task.

  And stop the inappropriate thoughts dancing through his mind.

  …

  Why is he looking at me like that? Allison turned away, breaking eye contact.

  “Thank you,” he said. “For the extra work.”

  “Uh, you’re welcome. Come on, let’s check out stall number one.” Normally she’d wrap a hand around his arm to guide him where they needed to be, but today she kept her hands by her sides. Why did she feel so off kilter?

  Was it the clothes? She ran a hand over her jeans. It had taken her an embarrassingly long time to get dressed today. Her first instinct had been to reach for one of the suits that filled her closet, but then she’d realized how strange it would be to show up at a morning market dressed for the office.

  Then had come the endless debate of jeans versus skirts. Running shoes or boots. Collared shirt or T-shirt.

  A decision that wouldn’t have caused her much stress a week ago suddenly seemed far too important.

  All because of that damned gazebo.

  She’d spent the last few days trying to avoid thinking about it. And Darian certainly hadn’t brought it up.

  Not that his silence on the subject bothers you. Right?

  Gillian’s words had wormed their way into her head. Any other woman would take advantage of any opportunity Darian offered. He was an attractive man, both inside and out. And she had a ticking clock. Yes, that kiss might have forever changed their relationship, but in the grand scheme of things, did it matter? It’s not like Darian would keep her on speed dial once she quit. She’d lose him either way.

  Which meant there was very little to keep her from acting on desires she’d tried so hard to suppress.

  “These aren’t on the list, but they are rather nice,” Darian said, reaching out to run his finger over the delicate petal of a purple flower.

  She watched him move, imagining those fingers brushing along her skin with equal care. Darian wasn’t a relationship sort of man, but she’d known that going in. There were no illusions about what could or couldn’t happen with him. And really, fun, casual sex might be just what she needed.

  Gillian was right. She was in a rut, and sleeping with her sexy boss seemed like one hell of a way to get out of it. After all, he’d appeared in more than a few naughty dreams over the years, though she’d deny it to her grave.

  Unfortunately, Darian seemed immune to the wedding cheer and romance that had surrounded them for the last week. If there really had been a moment in the gazebo, it might just have been a fluke. One he was trying to put behind them.

  Which left her with a decision. Accept that some fantasies were best kept behind locked doors and out of sight.

  Or do something about it.

  The thought sent butterflies rioting through her stomach. Hell, maybe if she made a move and he turned her down, it’d be easier to get her dismissal. He might want rid of her as fast as possible.

  The thought wasn’t as comforting as it should have been.

  “These are pretty,” she said, moving on to the next stall.

  He leaned over her shoulder to see what she’d selected. “Too yellow,” he replied.

  “They’d brighten up the reception hall,” she argued, looking over her shoulder.

  Only to find his mouth a breath from hers.

  Darian straightened so fast one would think she’d electrocuted him.

  “Not yellow,” was all he said as he walked away toward another seller.

  Allison watched him move away from her, the butterflies dying in her stomach. Her fantasies had all been premised on the idea that Darian would sleep with anyone so long as they made no relationship demands of him. But what if that rule didn’t include her? Yes, she’d be leaving soon, but until she did, she’d have to suffer the soul-crushing humiliation of knowing he’d fall into bed with anyone but her.

  Bars were full of strangers hoping for one night stands. If she needed a man in her bed that badly she’d be better of propositioning one of them. She could get out of her rut and wouldn’t put either of them in an embarrassing situation. A far safer option, even if it cast a cloud over her flower filled morning.

  Be his perfect assistant, she admonished herself. Keep any desires you’d be embarrassed to explain to a child to yourself.

  “So far I’m not seeing anything on your list,” he told her when she caught up to him. “We might be out of luck.”

  “We’re only halfway through. I’m sure someone will have something we can use.”

  “Ever the optimist.”

  A wry smile twisted her lips. On the contrary, she was usually the one pulling his ideas back down to earth. Darian was the shining golden boy who could make money out of nothing. She was the practical shadow that figured out ways to carry out the more boring steps of his vision.

  “I suppose we could come back next Saturday, though I know it’d be asking a lot,” he said.

  “Does that mean I’d get another dinner out of the deal?”

  His eyes flashed to hers before he glanced away. “Sure.”

  She paused as he moved farther down the stalls. Dinner was on, then? He hadn’t breathed a word of it since their car ride to Sahra. She’d half expected him to forget, but then again, not much slipped Darian’s mind unless it was deliberately forgotten.

  “Ali.”

  Her head swung up, orienting toward her name. Darian waved at her, his arm stretched high over the heads of their fellow flower shoppers.

  Threading her way through the crowd, she quickly crossed the distance to him.

  “What have you found?” she asked.

  “Dahlias.”

  White and blush colored flowers filled the small stall. Perfect for a bouquet.

  “I like them,” she said.

  Darian picked one up and twirled it around in his fingers. “It’s actually a decent stand in.”

  “Do you think Jenny would mind?”

  He leaned closer, inspecting the fragile blooms. “I think she’d love them. And considering what we’ve seen so far, these might be the best bet we’ve come across.”

  “You’re sure?”

  He glanced down the few stalls left before the end of the market and nodded. “I am.”

  Eying the blossoms, she tried to picture them at Sahra. They could weave them into the table centerpieces, and they were sturdy enough they could be used in other decorations as well. And the flowers came in multiple colors to match whatever theme Jenny had in mind.

  “I’m on board,” she agreed. Switching into assistant mode, she pulled the sellers over to grill them on their flower production and whether they could handle a large wedding. By the time she was done she had the contact information, a quote, and a guarantee they could get the job done.

  “I haven’t seen them at any other stall,” she said as they walked away from the seller. “We got lucky.”

  “I’ll send pictures to Jenny tonight to make sure they fit her vision, but she did tell us to make all the arrangements. I’m sure she’ll like them.”

  “We should still check out the last few stalls, just in case. We’re not locked into anything.”

  “You’re trying to jinx us, aren’t you?”

  “Humor me.”

  Shaking his head, he followed her lead.

  As they strode toward the end of the market, Allison studied the people around them. The crowd was a mix of professionals looking to stock their stores or cover events. The rest, though, were ordinary local community members.

  She’d never had a life that worked with waking up early on the weekends to buy flowers. Any time she had a living plant in her house it invariably died from her ill care. Gillian had given her a cactus once, joking that it was the only thing that could s
urvive her schedule. Even it had found an early grave in the trash bin.

  A woman laughed at the next stall, drawing Allison’s gaze.

  The stranger grinned up at the man she was with before rising on her tiptoes to press a light kiss to his mouth. In her arms rested a vibrant potted plant that was obviously making the trip home with them.

  That’s what I want. A life that was slow enough to enjoy a weekend stroll to the local market. A schedule that allowed for flowers in her world. Maybe even a dog, once she practiced on a cactus or two.

  And a man by her side who wanted to experience all of that with her. Without having to check his watch every five minutes for fear of the work he was missing out on.

  That simple dream would never be compatible with a man like Darian.

  A mocking smile lit her lips. Only she could go from planning a hot one night stand to dreaming of commitment in less than fifteen minutes.

  Glancing in Darian’s direction, she saw him watching her in silence.

  “What?” she said, defensive.

  “Nothing. You just looked…” He shook his head, letting the words trail away.

  What? Silly, pining after a life she wasn’t living? She wasn’t going to ask for any details.

  “We’re almost at the end. I really do think we found the best,” she said, trying to get them back on neutral ground.

  “Agreed. We can put in a formal order on Monday. One more task accomplished.”

  “And now you know, if this venture capitalist billionaire thing doesn’t work out, you always have your career as a wedding planner waiting in the wings.”

  He shuddered. “Once is more than enough.”

  “Maybe it’s more fun planning your own,” she offered.

  “Weddings only make sense for romantic fools willing to fall prey to an entire industry designed to take their every last dime.”

  “Do the Hallmark people know about you?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Down with weddings,” she said in a mock gruff voice, stamping her foot for emphasis.

  “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s not a good idea to mock the boss?”

  “Hey, it’s Saturday. I’m not your employee for the next forty-eight hours.” They reached the end of the lane of stalls and she wished the market was just a little longer. “Well,” she said. “I guess this is where we part ways.”

  “Hold on just a second,” he said. “Stand right there.”

  He was gone before she could protest. With a shrug she turned to stare down the street. It shouldn’t take very long to make it back to her apartment. Vegging out on the couch sounded like an excellent plan. Maybe she’d watch another one of those wedding movies.

  Or maybe she should go shopping. Buy something new for dinner tonight. A new dress might be nice. Maybe even a trip to Victoria’s Secret…

  She shook her head. Hadn’t she decided not to risk scalding humiliation? There was no need to dress up. Casual would be fine.

  She ran a hand down her jeans. There wasn’t any harm in taking a closer look at her closet, though, was there? No one ever said casual couldn’t be stylish.

  “Here you are, Ali.”

  At the sound of his voice, she turned around.

  And found him holding out the same potted plant the laughing woman had been cradling.

  “I— What?”

  “It’s a thank you.”

  “I thought that’s what dinner was.”

  “That, too.” He pushed the plant toward her again. “I appreciate you taking the time out of your Saturday. I appreciate you helping with all of this to begin with. You deserve a damn lot more than flowers, but hopefully this is a little start. I saw you eying them earlier.”

  It wasn’t her flowers I wanted but her life. But of course those were words she couldn’t say. So instead, she accepted the present.

  “Thank you, Darian. It’s lovely.” Delicate purple orchids stretched toward the sun. It was just like him to buy her the world’s hardest plant to keep alive. She tried to hold onto that thought and not focus on the warmth spiraling through her chest.

  “Now, if all our floral related business is complete, I should be on my way,” he said. “Do you need a ride home?”

  “No, it’s not far. I’m fine.”

  “Then I’ll see you tonight.”

  She hesitated before saying, “I’m happy to give you an out if you’re busy. I know you have a million things on your plate right now. After all, I scheduled them there.”

  There was a heartbeat of silence before he shook his head. “I promised you dinner. Besides, the bakery you suggested will be dropping off cake samples this afternoon. We can eat them for dessert and pick a cake flavor. Two birds, one stone.”

  “Bribing me with cake is a sure-fire way to get whatever you want. I’ll be there.”

  “Excellent. Eight o’clock.”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  He hesitated again, opening his mouth as if to say something, before shaking his head and stepping around her.

  Allison couldn’t help watching him walk away from her, the delicate flowers cradled in her arms.

  Chapter Six

  He never made mistakes. Not in business, not in life. Living with no regrets was a far more practical use of one’s energy.

  So his decision to cook from scratch, when he had the culinary skills of an inch worm, wasn’t a mistake; it was a daring challenge. And inviting a woman to his home, when he’d barely been able to keep his hands off her this morning, wasn’t something he’d regret; it was a necessary test in self-control.

  Darian leaned over his laptop to read the recipe he’d pulled up. Homemade pasta and tomato garlic sauce. How hard could it be? He had a fully stocked kitchen with all the best toys. Granted, he might not know what half of them were, but the point was that he had them.

  “Flour and eggs,” he muttered, moving toward the cupboards. Allison would be here in under an hour. At least he could get the prep done.

  It wasn’t like this would be a long evening. A meal, some cake, and she’d be out the door. This was nothing more than two colleagues enjoying each other’s company.

  Sure, it would have been easier to take her to a restaurant. Or even order in. He’d been half set on that course all week.

  But seeing his ever-stalwart assistant up at the crack of dawn to help him today had made him want to go the extra mile. Allison spent practically every waking hour in the office. When was the last time someone had gone out of their way to do something special for her?

  The thought made him pause in his mission to retrieve the flour.

  He’d never really thought about Ali’s life outside of work. She never mentioned a man, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have one. His hours were even crazier than hers, and he still managed a few evenings of companionship when he needed them. Not that he’d call that a relationship. Or that he could imagine his suited up assistant following the same life philosophy, but the plain truth was he didn’t know.

  When she was at work, she was his partner. His confidante, his sounding board, his personal fixer of all things erroneous. But what was she on her own time?

  “Not my business,” he said aloud. They’d never been the kind of colleagues who shared personal details by the water cooler.

  He had no right to her life beyond the office.

  And the fact that it pissed him off was not helpful or conducive to making the world’s best pasta.

  Standing back, he stared at all the ingredients he’d laid out on the counter. Look out Martha Stewart. The CEO of King Enterprises was about to get his cook on.

  …

  Allison stood on the steps, staring at the silver knocker. The damn butterflies fluttering in her stomach were a wholly unwelcome reaction to standing on Darian’s doorstep.

  It’s just dinner between colleagues. Have a meal, eat some cake. Easy peasy.

  It’s not as if she hadn’t spent time alone with him before. Hell, she
remembered a week during her second year when they’d basically hibernated in his office to get a deal done. She’d seen dawn from those damn work windows.

  But this was different.

  She surveyed her clothes. Tonight featured an elegant knee-length skirt and an off-the-shoulder blue shirt she’d thought was cute.

  Standing before his door, however, she had second thoughts. Was the shirt a little too bare? Was her hair, usually pinned in a bun and now in loose, flowing curls, too wild?

  Did she look too much like a woman hoping tonight was a date instead of a colleague looking forward to some mutual R&R?

  “Buck up,” she told herself, rolling her shoulders back. Just because she was at his house did not change their relationship in any way. She was still his assistant. The clothes she wore didn’t change that.

  She rang the doorbell before she could chicken out.

  Silence stretched.

  Should I ring it again? she wondered, staring at the closed door. He is expecting me, isn’t he?

  Raising her hand to the doorbell, she paused when what sounded like a crash reached her ears. Leaning closer to the door, she was ninety percent sure she could hear Darian cursing.

  “Darian?” she called.

  The door flew open to reveal a more frazzled version of her boss than she’d ever seen.

  His perfect hair was ruffled and out of place, as if he’d been dragging his fingers through it. A streak of flour clung to one cheek and there was a decidedly crazed expression on his face.

  “Dinner is defeating me.”

  Allison blinked. “I brought wine.”

  “Then you’re welcome here.” He opened the door wider.

  She slipped into his entry hall and eyed him, shrugging out of her jacket.

  “It’s smells…” She sniffed the air. “Uh, nice.”

  Darian snorted and closed the door behind her. “Liar.” He took her coat and hung it up. Swinging back to her, whatever he was going to say stalled as he looked her up and down from the tips of her shoes to the top of her curls.

  She waited for the verdict.

  “You look amazing.”

  She didn’t have to be a mind reader to see he regretted the words as soon as he said them. But there was nothing she could do to stop the pleasure sweeping through her.