Tapping The Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires #1)(14)

Most of the time I gave in, but living with Walter on a day-to-day basis was a pretty unforgettable lesson. The grumpiest cat in Manhattan—if not the world—lived with me, and it was all my mother’s fault.

I don’t want you to be lonely, she said.

We’re traveling too much to take care of him, she said.

You’ll love him, and he’ll love you, she said.

Ah, to go back in time.

There were days I actually avoided going home—to my apartment—because Walter lived there.

But that was a subject for another time.

I crossed the office quickly, my shoes slapping out a muted rhythm on the marble tile and a whistled tune flying from my lips.

Georgia Cummings.

My employee and the cure for my Stacey Henderson-themed nightmares.

She’d been working for my company for a couple of years now, but as I approached, I realized I’d never actually looked at her in all that time.

A glance here, a smile there, a professional exchange every week or so. But I’d never studied her body the way I was now.

I knew I hadn’t.

Because I sure as f*ck would have remembered.

Petite in stature but curvy in shape, her body was a perfect pint-sized hourglass perched precariously on top of razor-thin five-inch stilettos.

Her goddamn calves looked like they had been carved out of granite, and the rounded cheeks of her ass grabbed on to my eyes and refused to let go.

She moved slightly as I got closer from behind, and she bent at the waist to do something in the filing cabinet in front of her.

The gloriously short filing cabinet.

I watched as she went about her business, wondering how I’d managed to so effectively blind myself to her. I worked really hard at treating every single employee with fairness and without prejudices. I could remember the looks Dean had given me when he’d thought I wasn’t looking, and the friendly crinkles at the corners of Pam’s eyes. The devil was in the details, my dad had always told me, and I did my best to notice them. Except for hers.

As I tried to picture her smile from memory—and couldn’t—I knew all of my compartmentalizing engines must have been running at full f*cking steam to protect me from getting into something I shouldn’t.

But those engines weren’t running now, the override switch turned and fully engaged thanks to Meddling-Mom-Maureen, and as the fabric of Georgia’s creamy white dress pulled tight over her ass, alarms started blaring.

“My neck.”

A sway of her tight-white-fabric-covered hips accompanied her off-key singing.

Something told me she didn’t know I was standing behind her.

“My back.”

More torture in the opposite direction.

“Lick my *—”

Ears bleeding. Pants tightening.

“—and my crack.”

Holy. Fuck.

I had to stop her before it got even worse. Better.

Quickly, I shook my head to clear it and then reached forward to tap her smooth shoulder.

Hair flung out in an arc, she turned on her heel at warp speed, her eyes widening in horror as she pulled on a white cord to release an earbud from her ear.

“Shit.”

I smiled. Her eyes widened impossibly further.

“Mr. Brooks. I’m so sorry.” She clamped her eyes shut in shame. “I didn’t know anyone else was still here.”

Her face was mostly hidden in shadow as she tilted it to the ground, but I was still almost positive I saw her mouth the word ‘shit’ again.

“It’s all right,” I offered, and her head snapped up in question. I grinned slightly. “The singing and the shits. In fact, if you really need to, you can say it again.”

Her face froze in shock.

“I can tell you want to,” I prodded. “Maybe even three or four more times.”

“Three. Four.” She shrugged helplessly. “Forty, maybe.”

“Forty shits?” I questioned, raising a brow in amusement.

“Depends on how much you actually heard, I guess.”

I craned my neck to one side and back again.

“I’m not sure. I’m feeling particularly attuned to your neck and back, and, well, the rest I’m not sure I can say in an office environment.”

“Oh my God,” she cried and sank her face into her hands, embarrassment renewed.

“Definitely forty shits. Maybe even fifty.”

I coughed on a chuckle before tucking it away, knowing it was the perfect time to get on with what I needed.

“It’s okay. I know how you can redeem yourself.”

Her gaze jerked up from the floor and her eyes widened with hope. “Yeah?”

“Tomorrow night. Go to the benefit for the Children’s Hospital with me.”

Horror contorted her face into a scrunched-up version of itself. Not exactly what I was going for.

“What? Go to the…with you… No.” She shook her head frantically, desperately even, her bright red hair swinging to and fro before settling helplessly on the white fabric at her shoulders.

“No.”

I had to admit, the double, emphatic nos threw me a little. It wasn’t that I thought no one could turn me down. They could, and hell, they probably should. But they hadn’t in a long time.

Not in a very long time.