Million Dollar Devil (Million Dollar #1)(45)

More silence.

Then, “Shit. I have just gotten my new opening statement for tomorrow. Let me call you back tonight?”

“Yes, perfect.” Exhaling, I hang up.

While I’m dropping back in bed, my cell phone rings again. And I don’t have to check the number because Jeanine is the only person I know who’ll be up this early. “Ah, so you couldn’t wait until tomorrow. You want to talk about HIM now. Okay, so here it is. Are you ready for it? Jeanine, yesterday . . . god, I almost screwed his brains out in the back of my Audi. He kissed me, a kiss to put all kisses to shame. And I wish I hadn’t been so drunk—me? Drunk, YES! I was so drunk, but I wish I hadn’t been so I could have just moved forward with this. Gah, all this time teaching him to be a gentleman, he left me here in bed with aspirin and a glass of water at my bedside when all I wish was to wake up to all six inches of him beside me. I swear next time I’m going to just go for it and ride him like an award-winning cowgirl at a damn rodeo. Just like you said I should do. Unfortunately . . . right now, all I have is my vibrator.” I sigh. “God, I’ve got it bad for this guy. Maybe I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

“Why would you wait for tomorrow when you’ve said everything I needed to hear today?”

Oh. Myyyyy. God.

I gulp, stare at the phone, and then do what every red-blooded American woman would do. I hit end and wish I could take it back. Not the “end-call” part but the “babbling my truths” part.

I leap out of bed, and for the next five minutes, I pace. I pace because I don’t know what to do.

I could call Jeanine, but then I’d feel guilty. She’s about to try one of the biggest cases of her career, and the last thing she needs is me blabbering about James. Then again, I could call her anyway.

OR—I could call James, tell him that I was in a dead sleep, having the strangest dream EVER, and just guess who was in it?

Would that be cool?

Fuck no. No. And no.

He wouldn’t believe me.

It’s another ten minutes before he calls back. I reluctantly answer.

“Hi, you.”

God, he is SO sexy.

“Hi,” I answer grudgingly.

And I’m so not.

“What’s up?”

“Not a lot.” Just kind of walking the carpet. “What about you?”

“Oh, you know, I’m just hanging out, waiting for the call.”

“What call?”

“It’s really more of a summons. Seems a woman plans to use me for sex, and I’m not sure what all ‘fucking me out of her system’ entails, but I’ll definitely need to be present for the act itself, so yeah, I’m just waiting here by the phone.”

OH MY GOD. I’m dying. I’m so, so dying.

“Look, James, I didn’t . . .”

“Oh, I think you did.”

“Well, I mean . . .”

“You did. And you know what? That cowgirl at the rodeo is sounding pretty damn good right now.”

Deep breaths. “Yeah, I guess that’s pretty much etched in stone now, huh?”

“So were we ever gonna discuss this?”

“You knew. I mean, you know.”

“I do now.” There’s this guttural edge to his voice. “Lizzy?”

“Yes, I’m . . . I’m here.”

“Want me to come over?”

Of fucking course. “No. No. Not at all. It’s like nine in the morning.”

“And here is where you tell me that all good little girls like spending their Saturday alone in their beds.”

“Yes.”

“After what I heard? Lizzy, you are not a good little girl.”

“I have to go.”

“Lizzy.”

“James.” My mouth dries, and I stare down at my trembling hands. I want this guy. I want him so much that I’m scared to want him. “Not today. Okay? Let me have the day and, um . . .”

Maybe I’ll practice with my vibrator so I can perform well? What the fuck am I supposed to say now?

I don’t say anything, and the silence stretches.

Finally, he says, “I’ll see you Monday. Nine okay?”

I release an exasperated breath and relax. “Let’s make it about five p.m. I need to head to the office because my dad should be back, and I need to check in on Michael and see if the suits are ready for our travels.”

“All right then. Monday at five. Sweet dreams tonight, baby.” I breathe out another sigh of relief, thrilled that he doesn’t mention the vibrator.

“You too, Devil,” I toss out as lightly as I can, ending the call and groaning back into my pillow, partly wanting to suffocate myself with it. I’m going to need to buy extra batteries for my vibrator this weekend.



Sunday night, after watching YouTube videos almost as much as I was working scheduling meetings with our store buyers, I shower, slip on my robe, and head to bed. That’s when I spot the envelope James gave me when we made the deal. Crinkled all over and folded in half as it lies on my nightstand.

I pull up my duvet cover and slide under the sheets, giving it another curious look. Trying to ignore it, I prop my pillow up, grab my TV remote, and look at the envelope a third time. Sighing, I set the remote aside.