Million Dollar Devil (Million Dollar #1)(10)

He watches me in complete silence, which is probably a struggle for someone like Jimmy Rowan, but for James, the man I plan to create, this is good.

I can work with quiet consideration.

He crosses his toned arms. “Read the papers, don’t I?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Can you?” I shoot back, partly having fun, partly annoyed.

He ignores the dig. “The driver mentioned your name. I put it along with your first name, and voilà, recognized why I felt like I’d seen you before. Everybody knows you. You’re the poor little rich girl, heiress to a fortune. Harold Banks’s only daughter. He’s the man who easily pleases millions of customers but couldn’t satisfy the little woman at home.”

“That little woman was my mother.”

“I’m just repeating the story.”

“It’s one I’d like to forget.”

Even though Mom left a very long time ago, what he said is true. Locals can’t recall what kind of winter we had a few months ago or even tomorrow’s forecast, but when it comes to lifestyle gossip? Atlanta doesn’t forget.

My dad was one of the first men who took his company global with online shopping and a worldwide promise: If you’re not completely satisfied with your product, return it for a new one.

Sometimes I wonder if that’s why Mom left. Maybe she’d traded Dad in for a newer version. At the time, that was the running joke.

“Back to business,” I say, refocusing. “If you’ll trust me, you’ll be the surprised one in the end. I’m the answer to all your prayers.”

He runs his fingertip down my jaw. “I don’t pray.”

“After this, you may.”

“Honey, if I go down on my hands and knees, want to guess whose legs will be propped up on my shoulders?”

My breath catches. I can’t pretend that his raw look of masculinity doesn’t spin my libido-meter. Steeped in wild danger, the synergy between us is electrifying.

I try to recover, but why is it so hard to stay aloof with the tequila buzzing through my system and this unapologetic tower of testosterone buzzing so near?

He just raises his brows.

The driver pulls in front of my building. James looks up and snickers. “Exactly what I expected.” He takes out an old-looking cell phone with a cracked screen and punches in some numbers. “Charlie, listen . . . something’s come up. No, not that, not yet. Anyway, I’ll be home late. Call me later.” He hangs up, looks at me.

I don’t know what to say. The whole car smells of him.

I wiggle a little bit farther away so I don’t have to sniff his scent. But oddly, I still feel his hands on me. I fight to shake the feeling off. Wondering how a guy who’s a complete stranger and nothing like the guys I usually date can make me feel so restless.

Focus, Elizabeth. This is about business and business only.

Right . . .





THE MAN ON MY COUCH

We pull into the circular drive of my condominium complex. The doorman opens the door to the cab, and we step out.

James whistles.

I know my place is nice. Not as nice as my dad’s, but I can’t complain, because Daddy’s paying for all of it. All. Of. It. I know that makes me a spoiled princess. But I couldn’t tell him no, that I wanted to make my own way in the world, because in his world, he’s supposed to keep me. That’s a fact of his life, like that the sky is blue. He pays for everything for me—my house, my car, my credit card bills; hell, he even has a housekeeper come in every day to fill my refrigerator with food.

He knows all these strings tying me to him just make it harder for me to leave, like my mom did.

It’s frustrating to feel so “managed” all the time, especially when I want to prove to him that I’m a capable girl and can do fine on my own.

One of the doormen studies the hunk of dirty man flesh next to me, then pulls me aside as James struts toward the entrance. “Are you in trouble, Miss Banks?”

Probably. I give him a reassuring smile. “No, no trouble.”

We head up the elevators, and then I lead him into my sprawling apartment. James Rowan seems larger and larger as he enters my space. I suppose it should alarm me, but I’m too drunk and too excited to rethink this whole thing. Yes, my hormones maybe got more of a workout than I wanted them to, but I’m trying to get them under control now.

Oh my fucking god. Did I really kiss him?

If my father had been a fly on the wall during that, he’d be lying on the floor mat of that cab right now, a dead fly.

James glances around my pristine place and whistles. “Damn. Nearly as nice as the owner.” He winks at me, his voice deep and flirty, and I feel a blush creep up my cheeks.

Scowling at my reactions to him, I sigh. “Just . . . clean up, okay? Towels and everything you need are right through there.” I point to the restroom, sighing as the guy heads down the hall. He pauses at the door to the guest bathroom, eyeing me as I sway a little on my feet. I’m suddenly ready for bed, too exhausted and intoxicated to think clearly.

“Tough day, huh?”

“Says the guy with the bloody fists.”

“I won’t mention the other guy.” He shrugs as if it’s no biggie.

“You mean boast about the other one.”