Bet On It: An Age Gap Billionaire Office Romance(27)

He gave me another appreciative body scan. "I always thought you were hot. Maybe we could hook up."

My jaw couldn't drop any further. I moved away from him. "You just got engaged to my best friend." What the hell was he thinking?

He shrugged and started walking toward me, or stalking was more like it. I felt like prey.

"Hooking up is no big deal. It's just a little fun. Something we can keep between ourselves. I'm sure you'll like it. I’m pretty good at it. I’m sure Betts has told you."

Gag! I shook my head, working to put the table between the two of us. "I'm sure I wouldn't like it because I would never do that to Betts. How could you?"

Paul's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a sneer. "You should be happy someone like me is even paying you attention."

What happened to he always thought I was hot? I didn't ask him, of course. Instead, I decided I needed to get away. Like right now.

I hurried out of the kitchen and to the coat closet, where I pulled out my overcoat, shoving my arms through the sleeves as I grabbed my purse and headed out the door. I was just exiting the building when Betts came in.

She stopped short and frowned. "Where are you going? We have celebrating to do."

Oh, God, how did I tell her that her fiancé hit on me? I knew I needed to tell her, but I couldn't find the words. At least not at this moment.

"I had a work emergency." I hated lying to her. I hated that I couldn’t blurt out how Paul hit on me. I started to congratulate her again but then realized I couldn’t do that either. I couldn’t wish her well in marrying a cheating douchebag. Had he already cheated on her with others? I couldn’t imagine he hadn’t.

Her head cocked to the side. “Are you okay?”

Tell her. “Yeah, sure. Just a potential social media scandal. I’m sorry.” I hurried off, wishing I could tell her that my apology was for not revealing her cheating fiancé, not that I had to leave.

Once I got in my car, I gripped the steering wheel, not knowing what to do. Clearly, I had to go somewhere, but where? And crap, I was in my pajamas. Thank God I had already been wearing my slippers, but God, they were slippers. I couldn’t go anywhere like this.

I supposed I could go to a hotel. I started the car because it was getting cold, and I didn't want Betts to look out the window and wonder why I was still sitting here in the parking lot.

As I pulled out, I remembered that there was one other person in town whom I knew. One person whose home address I had.

I reached into my purse and pulled out the envelope Catherine had given me on my first day. This was a mistake too, but in the middle of a cold night, escaping my best friend’s letch of a fiancé, and realizing that I was going to have to ruin her happiness, where else could I go?





15





Reed





Insomnia sucked. And what made it worse was the inability to find something to do late at night when I couldn't sleep. I considered watching porn, thinking it could kill three birds with one stone. First, it would pass some time. Second, the physical nature of it might tire me out. And third, maybe by watching another naked woman get off, I'd stop fantasizing about Analyn. I couldn't fuck things up at work anymore, and the best way to do that would be to end this gnawing attraction I had for her. But I couldn't do that when she so frequently starred in my fantasies. Replacing the fantasy seemed like the best option.

The only problem was that all my porn video options left me flat, figuratively and literally. My dick was a flaccid sad sack.

Finally, I decided maybe I'd read. I put on my robe and made my way out of my bedroom, up the long hall, and through my expansive house to the library. All the way, I was cursing the size of my home.

I didn't need all this room, and having it only highlighted how alone and empty I was. I'd bought it not long after I retired from hockey, thinking I'd start a family and fill it up with children. All these years later, the house was empty except for me. I didn't even have a fucking dog or cat. Maybe I should get one. I’d be the old crazy cat guy.

I was scanning my old paperback thrillers when a knock echoed through the house. I checked my watch. Nearly midnight. Who the hell was here?

It had to be Pierce, but it was unusual for him to show up so late, especially without calling first. So maybe it was Bo, but that would be odd too. Bo and I were acquaintances but not friends. Why would he come to my place unless he needed help and knew that Pierce would kick his ass for whatever trouble he’d gotten himself into?

I left the library, heading out to the foyer, whoever was at the door knocking again.

"I'm coming."

I looked through the peephole and my heart stopped. Analyn. I looked again to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. She stood on my porch with her hands clutching the lapels of an overcoat as she shivered.

I yanked open the door. “Analyn? Are you okay?"

She let out a long sigh. "I'm sorry to just show up like this, but . . ." She seemed at a loss for how to finish the sentence. She shivered again, and it was only then I realized her legs were bare and instead of shoes, she had slippers on.

What the fuck?

I held the door open wider. "Come in. What happened?"

Was she running from someone? Maybe she had an ex-boyfriend who hunted her down. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility. It wasn't that long ago that another resident in Las Vegas, Max Clarke’s sister Vivie, was a victim of a stalker.