Bet On It: An Age Gap Billionaire Office Romance(3)

"Not just any suite," Amelia said, waggling her brows at her husband. “The suite that started it all.”

I watched them with envy, wondering why I hadn't been able to have that sort of relationship with Chase. I didn't know Max and Amelia, or about the suite that started it all, but in the few seconds I'd been with them, I knew that they had something special.

"Well, don't let me keep you from your night on the town,” my drinking buddy said.

"You have a good evening. Both of you. It's nice to meet you, Analyn.” Max turned his attention to my new friend. “And the next time my brother Sam is in town, we'll get together and talk about that sports bar idea of yours."

"Sounds great."

As Max and Amelia walked off, Josh, the bartender, served our drinks.

I held up my drink to click with his, but first . . . "I think you should tell me your name, and then we can cheers."

He held up his bourbon and water. "I'm Reed."

"Here's to crazy, new, interesting friends."

"Cheers to that."

We clicked our glasses and sipped, and then we started talking about anything and everything. Well, maybe not everything. We didn't talk about work, or even much about our personal lives short of telling him about my ex and his desire for an open relationship.

Reed showed the right amount of disgust at the idea. "I don't think I'll ever understand that. If you find somebody you want to be with, it seems to me you need to hold on tight and not let anything get in the way."

I studied him. "Have you ever had that?" I wondered if he was divorced or widowed. He couldn’t be married and believe in monogamy unless he was playing me and his reaction was all an act. I sipped my drink and pushed that thought away. It didn’t matter. We were in Vegas, and once I went home to Chicago, it wouldn’t matter.

He shook his head. "I haven't had much luck in that department."

I must have gaped because he laughed. "Why does that surprise you?"

"Because of all this." I made a motion toward his face and the hard planes of his chest etched in the fabric of his T-shirt.

He shrugged. "I suppose I'm looking for somebody who wants a little bit more than this."

I nodded. "I hear you. Well, actually, I don't because I don't have this . . ." I made a motion to my own body. Don't get me wrong, I don't think I'm unattractive, but I’m no super model.

He frowned. "What do you mean, you don't have this?” He motioned to me. “If you weren’t here sitting with me, any one of the single men—hell, maybe even some of the married men—would be coming over here to make your acquaintance."

I shook my head as I sipped my drink. "That's nice of you to say, but I doubt it.”

“I bet you that if I left, there would be a man, several probably, who’d show up. Whereas I’ve come here plenty and never had a woman hit on me.”

“I did . . . hit on you . . . I mean . . . well . . .” God. Why did everything I say suggest I wanted to have sex with him? I let out a sigh.

“Perhaps we’ll have to agree to disagree because I don’t really want to take that bet.”

I went all warm inside as I took his words to mean he was enjoying my company, awkward as it was. “I guess it just goes to show that there's much more that goes into a relationship than just attraction."

He held up his bourbon. "I'll cheers to that, too."

We continued talking and drinking. I wasn't drunk, but the inhibitions were down, the music was pumping, and I could feel it vibrating in my blood. "Do you happen to dance, Reed?"

He shook his head. "Not very well.”

“Me neither.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“I bet you’re better than me,” I said, playing off the “bet” he’d made earlier.

He grinned, and for a minute, I was blindsided. “I’ll take that bet.” He stood, and I was able to note that he was tall. Tall and broad, like a football player. He held his hand out to me. I placed my hand in his, and it was large like the rest of him. I had a moment to remember the adage about a man's hands being reflective of the size of his package. I let out a giggle and immediately tried to take it back. How mortifying.

"What's so funny?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. I was just noting the size of your hands."

His eyes narrowed, and I swore there was a wicked feral quality to it. "It's true, you know, about hand size."

All my girly bits flared to life. "No, I wouldn't know."

The music was a fast rhythmic beat, but he put his hand on my hip to keep me close to him as we danced on the crowded dance floor. I might have thought he’d respond to my comment and was a little disappointed he hadn’t. I reminded myself that I didn’t want this to be more than a night of drinks, dancing, and scintillating conversation.

He was right. He wasn't a great dancer, but neither was I. Neither of us cared as we allowed our bodies to move to the beat. I felt free and uninhibited. I wasn’t worried about what others thought. I just let go and lived in the moment. It was the most fun I'd had in a long, long time. In fact, I'm not sure I ever had so much fun with Chase.