Jaclyn swung open the door to her lavish penthouse suite, practically skipping through it. If her insomnia had spiked earlier, it was full throttle now.
No matter.
Tomorrow—well, now actually today—was Saturday, with her biggest agenda item being a hotter-than-Hades date late in the morning.
Hot wasn’t a description of the date as much as the gym they’d be meeting at. It was rarely properly air-conditioned, and her trainer would spend the better part of ninety minutes trying to literally kick her ass. But she could roll out of bed and head over without worrying about a shower or makeup.
Wide awake and intrigued, she decided that rather than going to bed right away, she’d do a little traipsing through the world wide web. She made her way to the plush king-size bed in the corner of the suite’s bedroom. The floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the brilliant twinkling lights of downtown Dallas.
She hopped on the bed and seductively greeted her usual evening companion—her trusty laptop. “Let’s get to know Mr. Austin.”
There was an uncommon quality in the stranger she’d met tonight. He was different, a hot commodity that rarely occurred in her circles.
Raised in the wealthy world of quasi-arranged marriages, she’d staved off the CEOs or investment-banker types that seemed well-paired with a tall glass of Long lineage. Settling down might technically be on her bucket list, but matrimony continued to rank dead last on her must-dos before she died.
For this twenty-eight-year-old, being the head of a major corporation was a much shinier aspiration than marrying one. Her laser-focused ambition and thirst for adventure positioned her to take the helm as the next CEO and president of Long Multinational Systems, a multibillion-dollar global empire. A private partnership of the matrimonial kind was more than unlikely. It would be a freaking miracle.
Few men were contenders for her ideal match. Frankly, most men couldn’t keep up with her sharp wit and ceaseless competitive streak. Her tireless drive was hard to beat and exhausting to watch. Add to that her ceaseless need to push the envelope, in both business and relationships, and she was a lot to handle . . . if handling her was even the right word. Most men toggled between smothering her and trying to stomp out the brilliant fire that made her shine so bright.
And one way or another, men were always after her money.
Jaclyn had built her wall of trust issues brick by brick. Her early twenties were whiled away by meeting every eligible well-to-do dweeb. Dating someone who ran in her circles, let alone marrying one, had become about as appealing as a cappuccino colonoscopy.
But her blue-eyed bandit was a puzzle begging to be solved.
Let’s see who you really are, Mr. Mystery.
She quickly perused Google. First result: LinkedIn.
She flipped through a dozen possibilities until she found Richard Austin in Dallas. Just a blank avatar where a photo should be, but she continued skimming webpages.
No Twitter. No Instagram.
Facebook? Bingo. His account was bare bones, obviously set up by someone with zero intention of ever using it.
Thankfully, she’d seen the gorgeous goods up close and in person, as his online images weren’t exactly Calvin Klein ad worthy. Swiping right would definitely be iffy, at best. But, like he said, a confirmed bachelor with a public email and business number.
Her smile grew, and she closed her laptop and set it on her nightstand.
Once she’d changed into her soft cream-colored chemise and turned off her lights, the glow of the clock let her know the hour was creeping past 3:00 a.m. Her web crawling did her no favors, stoking rather than slowing her high energy.
Her fingers reached for the handle on her nightstand. She opened it, suddenly eager to focus on Mr. Austin again. Her hand wrapped around the soft pink silicone of her vibrator as she imagined everything he was hiding beneath his suit.
* * *
That kiss should have made Richard rejoice. But his conquest, if he could call it that, left him more baffled than ever.
He’d spent years watching her from afar, and the last twelve months making every Olympic effort to pole vault the great wall of Jaclyn Long. The greater he laid on the charm, the more intensely she took to bricklaying. He always managed to nudge her to pile even more bricks atop the insurmountable barricade she’d built around herself. Just his smile in her direction was met with a skeptical glare.
Be myself, get blown off.
Don’t be myself, get kissed.
Forget the Bermuda Triangle. Women take first place for the world’s greatest mystery.
The sweetest tease of her lips had lifted his to a semi-permanent smile and set his feet to wandering.
Jaclyn Long was unexpected. Inviting. A complex mix of sweet and spicy that completely threw him for a loop. He’d prepared and presumed he’d have to work so much harder in his sheep’s clothing.
Nope.
Just a little small talk, and easy, peasy, Jaclyn-squeezy.
To top it off, he wasn’t doing anything particularly extraordinary. Not even ratcheting up the charm. Despite Margot’s tapped-in assistance, he was, for the most part, being the most ordinary side of himself. A side usually shored up with a showy suaveness that was expected to come with the territory.
His uptown accommodations should have easily been a half-hour walk from the hot and hasty scene of the cute little crime. But after a good hour of strolling, he finally made his way back to the lap of luxury he now called home.
Replaying their encounter in his mind warmed his face and broadened his smile as he stepped through the lobby doors. The usual friendliness of the valet and bellman was exceptionally so at the hour, as both nodded at him with larger than normal grins.
He politely smiled and nodded back.
Greeted with the same smirking smiles from the front desk staff, he reached up to casually swipe at his nose. Then, as he headed toward the elevator, he discreetly checked his zipper. Everything seemed fine.
His reflection in the mirrored elevator walls let him in on the joke. Laughing, he beamed at the bright splash of red painted across his lips, delighted that Jaclyn had left such a lasting impression on him.
After entering his own penthouse suite, he double-stepped up the sweeping staircase to the master bathroom to check out her handiwork staining his mouth. A light chime conveyed by bone conduction hit his ear, and he tapped the corner of his glasses twice.
“Hello, Margot,” he said, but kept the call to voice only.
“Well, I’m back in London and about to head to a leisurely brunch, and I can’t keep waiting for details. I gave you your space after you hung up on me—”
“I had to hang up on you, Margot. You made me choke on the bourbon.”
“I told you to order a bold red.”
“So that warrants you screaming, ‘Jaclyn’s a virgin’ in my ear? Perfect. Now she thinks I drink like a pussy.”
Margot let out a sadistic giggle. “When you don’t listen to me, you suffer the consequences. And I didn’t think you were going to choke quite that hard. I just needed you to be a little less comfortable with hard liquor.”
“And I need you to be a little more comfortable with me taking the wheel every now and again.” He stepped back into the bedroom and helped himself to a nice pour of Blanton’s Single Barrel.
“I was. You wanted to check out her hotel, and I was totally on board.”
“You didn’t tell me she’d be hanging out in the bar.” He took a solid sip, savoring the swallow he’d previously missed, and grinned at the red lip print left behind on the rim of the glass.
“She isn’t exactly tagged for tracking. Lucky thing you are. I got hits on all the searches on Google and social media for you. Consider yourself checked out.”
“You mean she checked out Richard Austin. And why, for the love of God, did you put up those hideous photos?”
“Oh, those? Purely for my own amusement. Plus, the profile you bought from Richard Austin of Alaska worked perfectly. A three-year-old profile with hardly any activity. A few edits to existing posts, and voilà, you’re a regular guy who hardly spins his wheels on social media. Much like your real Facebook page. Good news is you’ve been stalked. She’s interested. Which means you’ve got another date with destiny tomorrow. Don’t be late.”
“I’ll be there. Good night, Margot, and thanks.”
“Good night.”
Easing off his blazer and losing his tie, he decided he needed a shower. His new reflection watched back as his fingers lightly skimmed the lipstick still on his lips, then lowered to smooth his chin and cheeks as he inspected his face. His dark scruff was peering through.
I’d better shave in the evenings too.
His gaze wandered to his hair. His new golden-blond waves were so different, yet suited him perfectly. With his eyebrows tinted just a shade darker, he seemed Scandinavian, perhaps. Or Californian.
The resemblance to his father was uncanny. The man he hadn’t seen in far too long looked back at him. Richard marveled over the differences between this new image and the naturally dark good looks he’d inherited from his mother.
As steam from the shower clouded his mirror, his mind detoured. After polishing off the rest of his well-earned drink, he shed the remaining clothes from the muscular physique he’d hidden. What would she think of the real me?
Richard stepped into the shower and relaxed under the soothing hot streams of six showerheads. He lathered up, and his sudsy hand gripped the evidence of his growing interest in her. She’d commandeered every corner of his thoughts.
Her lips. Her body.
His mind pivoted, and his imagination replayed the night a little differently. In this new scenario, he reacted as he’d truly wanted to, by pinning her body against the glass barrier surrounding the pool.
Taking everything.
Without mercy.
Hard.
Raw.
No holding back.
The weight of his body collapsed against the shower wall, held up by the bulging muscles of his arm. He shot every ounce of his release hard through his tight fist, hearing his own shouts echoing through the glass and granite surround. Finally, his breathing slowed.
His body drained, he was barely able to wrap his mind around the depth of his desire.
Mine.
All. Mine.