The Millionaire's Proposition

‘I made one mistake—I didn’t bring a condom. Otherwise that went pretty much as I would have liked.’

‘I don’t do relationships,’ Kate said, ignoring that.

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

‘Perfect.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘You don’t do relationships. I don’t do relationships. But I do do sex…and so, obviously, do you. And very well too.’

She stared at him for a long moment. Then that little lick of the top lip again—God, he wanted to be the one licking it.

‘I have someone,’ she said.

That brought a frown—fast and hard and very displeased. ‘You told me at the party you didn’t.’

‘I’m seeing him tonight. We’re working out an arrangement.’

‘What kind of arrangement?’

She looked at him out of those clear eyes. ‘A mutually satisfactory “friends with benefits” arrangement.’

‘Work out an arrangement with me instead.’

‘Phillip is forty.’

‘Past his sexual prime.’

‘Closer to my age.’

‘How old are you, Katie?’

‘Thirty-two. And it’s Kate.’

‘Then he’s not closer to your age—I am. Five years versus eight years. And I want you more.’

‘How could you possibly know that?’

‘Because nobody could want you more than I do.’ He leaned forward in his chair. ‘And you owe me. One orgasm.’

‘I’m not interested in having a toy boy.’

‘And I’m not interested in being one.’ He stared at her, wondering… And then he relaxed back in his chair. ‘Aha! So that was it.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘What happened at the party to make you run away. Amy said I was twenty-seven.’

‘I don’t do relationships.’

‘Yeah—we covered that one.’

‘People who are twenty-seven are in the prime age bracket for relationships.’

‘Newsflash—so are people who are thirty-two.’

‘I’m not like other thirty-two-year-olds.’

‘And I’m not like other twenty-seven-year-olds. Remember? I’m the confirmed bachelor of Weeping Reef.’

‘You said bachelor, but not confirmed.’

‘I lied because I didn’t want to scare you off.’

‘Not exactly honourable.’

‘That’s because I’m not honourable. I have not one honourable intention when I look at you. Which won’t bother you since you’re not interested in relationships. So, Katie, you’re going to have to tell your forty-year-old he’s too late. Unless you didn’t like what just happened…?’

Kate leaned back in her chair. Licked her top lip again, which was now almost bare of lipstick. It was heavy, brooding. He wanted it on his body.

‘There’s no reason I won’t like it with Phillip just as much,’ she said.

‘What—you’d let Phillip go down on you on your desk during business hours, would you?’

‘He wouldn’t want to.’

‘And that’s why I’m the man for you. Because I would. I did. And I would do it again in a heartbeat, Katie.’

‘Kate. And it’s not a matter of liking. It’s a matter of being clear what the end-game is so nobody gets hurt.’

‘I don’t get hurt.’

She looked startled. ‘Everyone gets hurt.’

‘Not me.’

‘You’ve never been hurt?’

Scott’s body tensed. Redirect. ‘Let me put it this way. There’s no need for either of us to get hurt. You mentioned the end-game. Why can’t the end-game be sex? Pure and simple sex?’

Kate had picked up a pen and was tap, tap, tapping it on the desk. ‘Pure and simple sex,’ she said slowly. ‘No strings?’

‘You got it.’

Long moment. Tap, tap, tap. ‘And if I were to lay some ground rules…? You wouldn’t have a problem with that?’