Bidding on the Billionaire (3 page)

“Then meet me.” Another plea filled with all the same hunger that had her shaking.

“But how do I know you aren't some weirdo who's going to kidnap me or kill me?” She shouldn't have asked him that. She should have turned him down flat and removed the unbearable temptation right then and there. Talking to him had always been easy. It was what pulled her to him and made him so damn terrifying at the same time.

He laughed. “You're right. It's a risk, I know. How about we meet in public? At the base of the Space Needle. I'll wear a red tie so you'll know it's me. That way, you can see me, but I can't see you. Then you can decide if you want me, too.”

She was touched he'd go through so much trouble for her but reached up to touch the scar running from her temple to the corner of her chin. The night she'd gotten it came to mind. The darkened car, the twisted metal. Her parents died that night and her life changed. She'd gotten teased so much growing up that she'd come to expect it. Kids could be shallow and cruel, even in college. It didn't help that she'd gotten good grades and preferred her own company. She was a geek, a loner. She enjoyed reading. Her love for it had been what made her decide to use the meager inheritance her parents had left to open her bookstore.

Over the years, she'd been laughed at and discussed like she didn't exist, didn't have feelings. She'd overheard one too many dates in college, before she'd met Dane, talking to friends about the hideousness of her scar. Some had even laughed at her. Granted, they were drunken college boys too full of themselves, but the hurt had stuck. Since her breakup with Dane, she'd given up dating altogether. No, trying to find someone real, who'd accept her, scars and short, “voluptuous” stature and all, wasn't worth the headache.

She still had needs, though, and desires. She was twenty-five, single, and sexually frustrated. She had yet to have a wild fling for the hell of it. She lived like an old spinster, because she was afraid to live. She wanted and craved hot, heavy sex, the kind where you couldn't keep your hands off each other. Where you made out in elevators, like in the novel that brought her and Cade together in the first place. With a man, not the boys she managed to find. One who wouldn't be horrible behind her back or even to her face, who'd make her feel sexy while he fucked her into next week.

She wasn't, however, naïve. She knew better than to meet a complete stranger without knowing anything about him. “What's your last name?”

“So you can look me up? Smart girl. McKenzie. My full name is Caden Declan McKenzie, but most people call me Cade. I work for my father. Do a search on my name. I guarantee you'll find me. Now, you have to promise you aren't going to stalk me.”

The playful tease in his tone had her imagining his smile, and the knot in her chest unraveled. She couldn't help a soft laugh. “I can guarantee I won't. It's not my style, but I guess you're going to have to trust me. Providing you are who you say you are, when would you like to meet?”

He was silent a moment. “You have a fantastic laugh, you know that? My flight lands Sunday night. Monday and Tuesday I'm booked solid. By the time I get back to my hotel at night, I won't be worth anything. Wednesday afternoon is free, though.”

“I can do Wednesday. About three-ish?” She could pull J.J. in a couple hours early.

She and Maddie had hired J.J. a few months ago, needing someone to close the shop at night. Her little bookshop wasn't very big, little more than a small bedroom. When she'd opened it, though, she and Maddie had a dream, to do what they loved doing. Maddie was good with people. The shop had done better than either of them expected. It had grown steadily over the last three years.

Just recently, they'd lengthened their days at the request of more than a few customers, who couldn't make it in before the store closed at six. So, they kept it open until ten now. Last week, Hannah had covered her shift so J.J. could celebrate her first anniversary. Technically, that meant J.J. owed her one, though she knew the middle-aged woman wouldn't have a problem with returning the favor. It was why they'd hired her. She shared the same passion for books, and she had a sweet, need-to-please disposition. The customers loved her. This way, Hannah would have time to go home and decide what to wear before meeting Cade at the Space Needle.

“Three it is. See you Wednesday, Hannah.”

The anticipation in his voice sent a shiver of the same trickling down her spine. “I look forward to it, Cade.”

And did she. More than she probably ought to.

I
t had to be her.

Cade McKenzie leaned against the pillar, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his slacks. He'd been there for twenty minutes now, waiting, his stomach tied in nervous knots. He tried for an air of causal aloofness, as if he'd come for the scenery and could stand there all day. Any other time, he might have enjoyed exactly that. Used to his constant supply of sun in San Diego, he hadn't looked forward to the weather so famous around these parts this time of year.

He'd grown up in Seattle, born and raised. His parents still lived in the same old house in Redmond. He'd been living in San Diego, though, since he passed the bar exam and went to work at one of the branch offices for his father's law firm. He had to admit he didn't miss the constant gray so prevalent in the Pacific Northwest. For mid-March, though, the day had turned out beautiful. Bits of blue sky peeked through the usual thick cover of gray clouds, warming what might have otherwise been another dreary Seattle day.

Standing there, waiting, his nerves had long since frayed. Hannah was late. Across the grassy expanse surrounding the base of the Space Needle, though, a small brunette stood with her arms folded. She'd been there for a good ten minutes now. It was a fluke he'd even noticed her, except she was watching him. He'd caught her stare twice now, and both times, she'd blushed to the roots of her hair. Any other time, her stare might not have bothered him, except he couldn't help wondering…was that Hannah?

He hadn't slept at all the night before. He'd done what he shouldn't have and called her again. They'd spoken every night since the first time a week ago. The sweet sound of her voice wrapped around him like soft velvet. He'd become seriously addicted to her. She had a sweet nature. She was sassy and sensual. Talking to her, getting to hear the velvet of her voice, had only ramped up his need for her. One hello lit a full-on blaze inside of him. Her, too, from the sounds she made. Her moans had gotten more emphatic with each conversation. Calling her had made their already-hot exchanges damn near combustible. Each round over the last few days had grown more and more intense.

And so it had been the night before. He'd fallen asleep to the sound of her high-pitched cry still ringing in his mind. He'd tossed and turned all night to the most torturous of dreams, waking with the hard-on to end all hard-ons. The damn thing hadn't abated all day, making the meetings he'd flown out here to attend damned inconvenient. He was supposed to be concentrating on this merger, but Hannah had taken a firm place in his mind. The thought of finally getting to see her had him riding a razor-sharp edge. He'd been walking around with his hands in his pockets all damn day, trying to hide an erection. He couldn't stop wondering what she looked like, what would cross her features when she saw him. Would it even be the same in person?

The woman across the way drove him nuts. She didn't at all match the description Hannah gave him the first night they met. He expected a tall, willowy blonde with short, pixie-cut hair and long legs. This woman had light brown locks that fell past her shoulders in thick waves. She didn't look very tall, either, but short and voluptuous. She wore a gray, off-shoulder T-shirt, with a white tank beneath. Her fitted black jeans hugged her luscious curves, and his runaway libido ramped up a notch. It couldn't possibly be her, but he had to admit, if it was, he wasn't disappointed.

People came and went, passing through the area or moving beyond him to take their place in line, to go up to the observation deck of the Space Needle. There had to be several dozen women in the vicinity, but none seemed to pay him any mind. This one watched
him
the way he watched her. But was that Hannah?

Deciding to grab the bull by the horns, he turned his head and met her gaze again. Like before, a deep pink suffused her cheeks. She looked down at the ground. Following her gaze, he noted her open-toed sandals. Shoes like that said casual and comfortable but practical, which didn't at all match the carefree spirit his Hannah had always been. As he continued to stare, her gaze wandered back to him, the way it had the last few times. She peeked at him from beneath her lashes and blushed all over again.

His cock twitched in his pants. Damn it all to hell. Hannah hadn't been shy in the least. His Hannah would have marched over here by now.

The thought that she might have lied had his nerves scattering. Hannah flat out scared the hell out of him. The fiasco that had been his ex-fiancée, Amelia, should have kept Hannah in the safe territory of the Internet. He'd discovered too little too late that Amelia was another gold digger, another woman out to get her hands on his father's money.

He ought to be accustomed to being used by now, but it always managed to surprise him. More to the point, he should've kept Hannah as an online fling, but talking to her had become too easy. She was sassy but sweet. When he talked, she listened. Really listened. That the sex was so hot as well had him hooked. Exactly why he was here and what had him shaking in his shoes at the thought she might have lied about herself. If he was right, he had to wonder why. Did she have something to hide?

Then again, he wasn't one to talk. He had secrets of his own. He hadn't told Hannah about his family, nor had he told her about Ethan. He had a thirteen-year-old son he didn't know, the result of teenage hormones. The boy was his greatest pride and the cause of his deepest regret. The birth mother had given him up for adoption. Cade had seen him once, the day he was born, and although his adoptive mother sent pictures and letters, his son had no idea who Cade was. His biggest regret in life was not fighting harder to keep him. He was terrified that if he told Hannah the truth, she'd turn around and walk away. They might not have much more than an online fling, but he needed it. He needed her.

Deciding he had to know whether or not that was Hannah, he fished his phone from his pocket and drew up Hannah's number from his favorites. Yeah. He'd had her number for all of a week now, and she was in his favorites already. The first ring sounded across the courtyard. The woman's cheeks blazed bright red. As she fished her phone out of her back pocket, her hands shook so much it slipped from her grasp onto the ground. As she bent to retrieve it, the odd jingle sounded again and heads turned.

She punched something on the screen and held the phone to her ear. “I guess the jig's up, huh?”

A full-on grin spread across his mouth. Christ, he couldn't help himself. That
was
Hannah. He couldn't get ahead of himself, though. She had some questions to answer first. He wouldn't play the hopeless fool again, with his heart on his sleeve. “Was anything you told me true?”

She shrugged. “If I told you I was five foot three and ten pounds too heavy, would you even have met me here?”

His heart twisted. She had him there. Insecurities. He knew them well. Which meant if he expected the truth, he needed to give it as well. He had to be honest with her, even if this went nowhere.

“You don't look too heavy, baby. You look healthy. The women in my circles are too damn thin, starving themselves to meet someone else's idea of beautiful.” Hannah had curves on top of curves. She had small breasts he suspected would fit perfectly in his palms, topped by strong shoulders. Her round ass filled out her dark jeans to perfection. He couldn't wait to get her out of them. He ached to discover if her skin was as soft as it looked.

“Besides, it's
you
I'm addicted to. You're the reason I go straight home to my computer at the end of every night despite swearing I was done with women seven months ago. That's the answer to your question, by the way. Why I don't find a real woman. My ex killed the need. She used me and she cheated on me, and, sadly, she wasn't the first. I found her in bed with my best friend. She used him, too, pitted us against each other for her own gain. I'm curious, though. How much of our exchanges were just you playing a game?”

He focused on his work these days. He'd had it up to his eyeballs with phony women and being used. Women who saw him as nothing more than a bank balance or a plaything had long ago worn out their welcome. His ex had been the last straw. She'd slept with Sebastian, his childhood best friend, then dropped the bomb on both of them—she was pregnant, and she didn't know which of them had fathered the child. He and his lawyer had taken her to court, forcing her to prove her claims, but so far, she hadn't complied. She was still game-playing, trying to blackmail him into paying her off.

One. That's all he wanted. One woman who'd be honest with him. Which made him wonder about Hannah.

When she didn't answer his question, he smiled, tight but polite. “I take it you did your research on me? What did you discover?”

She watched him for a moment, her gaze locked on his. Then she drew a breath, her shoulders softening. “You're a corporate lawyer. You work for your father, Declan McKenzie, in one of the largest and oldest law firms on the West Coast. Your father is worth billions and you made full partner last year, the youngest lawyer in your firm to do so. Your family also owns a small but up-and-coming software company.”

He nodded. “Mmm. My sister's baby.”

Impressive, but he had no desire to let her off the hook yet. She'd lied to him but shown up anyway. What was her game?

“You should have discovered by now I want the same thing you do. I want someone who can be straight with me, who doesn't see me as a means to lining their closets or stroking their inflated ego. How much of what you told me was the truth?”

Meeting Hannah had been a fluke. They'd met in an online discussion about a hot novel seated on the top of the
New York Times
bestseller list. The erotic tale had sides divided and people arguing over its BDSM aspects. He and Hannah had been arguing opposing sides of that very topic. She opposed the idea of someone
beating her
, as she'd called it. “It's barbaric!” she'd told him once. “How can beating someone turn someone on?”

His response? How would she know if she'd never tried it? Of course, forms of torture didn't arouse him. He agreed with her there. He had no desire to inflict pain on a partner. The thought of tying a woman down and having his way with her, though, made him hard enough to hammer nails, and a smack on the ass in the middle of a good groove could heighten the intensity for both of them. Which was where his turn-ons really lay—his partner's satisfaction. Watching a woman's ecstasy had to be the most erotic thing in the world, when she let go and came apart beneath him.

And so their conversation had gone. One thing led to another, and she'd admitted his ideas turned her on as well. As long as he had no plans to whip her or spank her until her behind stung so much she couldn't sit down.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth. I was afraid to. Truthfully, if you ended up like the rest of the guys I've met, I didn't want to know. I wanted to play, to be someone else for a while.” Across the courtyard, another fierce blush stole across Hannah's cheeks. Her voice lowered. “I didn't lie when I told you we want the same things. I only lied about the way I look.”

Apparently, she had as much to lose in this exchange as he did. “Why?”

She looked down at the ground, nudging something with the toe of her sandal. “Men want tall, thin, perfect women, with long legs and huge breasts, and as you can see, I'm not any of that.”

What she
wasn't
saying hit him clear as day, and his heart twisted, his anger deflating. Someone had made her feel less than beautiful. He hated the thought.

“You look perfect from here. Your breasts look like a mouthwatering handful. Believe me, sweetheart, I'm not disappointed. If you were afraid, though, why come at all? You knew I'd discover the truth once I saw you.”

She looked up, her gaze bold and unapologetic. “Because I hoped you'd be different. That you wouldn't be like all the rest.”

They had the exact same fear—of being used and being judged.

“And because you're right. I had to see you.”

Her last comment was the final point, making the decision for him. Having heard all he needed, Cade disconnected the call and stuffed his phone back in his pocket. Then he smiled and crooked a finger at her. She hesitated, staring at him, then hiked her chin and started across the field. His gaze transfixed on the sexy swing of her hips as she walked, and the embarrassing bulge in his slacks thickened and lengthened. How it was possible to crave someone the way he did her, he didn't know, but the reaction had been instantaneous from the first argument. Hannah had passion and it turned him the hell on.

When she stopped in front of him, the scar on her cheek came into view. The deep groove cut a jagged path from temple to chin, bisecting her right cheek. Another two-inch scar cut across her left eyebrow and a smaller one-inch slash sat below her left cheekbone.

“You didn't tell me about these.” He traced the longest scar with the pad of his thumb, his chest aching with the thought of how she'd gotten them. What could cause a scar like that? No sooner had the question formed than possibilities filled his mind, and his gut knotted for the pain she must have endured. He prayed she hadn't been attacked.

She stiffened and jerked her head to the left. A curtain of hair fell forward over her shoulder, hiding her face. She folded her arms, and he got the distinct impression she meant the action to shut him out. “I suppose it's a deal breaker, then?”

Her stiff posture nudged something in his gut. Her unyielding tone told him she'd taken her question as fact.

He dropped his hand and arched a brow. “Has it ever been?”

She shrugged, offhanded and dismissive, but her stiff posture answered the question even before her response left her mouth. Someone had hurt her.

“Once or twice. I've been teased, stared at, and gossiped about enough to know this sort of thing bothers some people. The scars are deep and all the makeup in the world can't hide them. On top of the lies I told you, I wouldn't blame you if you change your mind.”