How to Seduce a Billionaire

“Nothing. What do you need? A file? Which one? I’ll get it.” She jumped up and pulled the top file drawer open.

“See, now you’re just raising my curiosity level,” he said, “so you might as well tell me.”

She clenched her teeth together irately. “Fine. Roger complained about the way I kissed, so I was practicing in the mirror. There. Are you happy?”

He shook his head. “Roger is a complete idiot. Why do you care what he thinks?”

She glared at him. “I told you, I want to get him back.”

“Yeah, that’s what I don’t get.” Disgusted with the subject of Roger, he moved to the file drawer and began to sift through the folders himself. “Where’s the new Montclair Pavilion file?”

“I’ve got it right here.” She picked up a thin folder and handed it to him. She looked so dejected, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for teasing her.

“Look, I’m sure you kiss like a goddess,” he said. “So stop worrying about what Roger thinks.”

“I just wish I could practice on something besides a mirror,” she said gloomily.

“Yeah,” he agreed absently as he thumbed through the file. “It usually works better to go with a real-life target who’ll actually kiss you back.”

She shot him a hopeful look. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help me out with that.”

He glowered at her. “Get real, Kelly.”

“What do you mean?” Realization dawned slowly. “Oh! No, no! I didn’t mean for you to kiss—oh, dear. I would never want you to… well, this isn’t going to come out right, no matter how I say it.”

“So just say it.”

“Okay. I wasn’t talking about you kissing me.” She sat on the edge of her desk. “But the thing is, I’ve made a list of potential, um… participants. So I was thinking maybe you could help by looking it over and making some suggestions?”

“You have a list?” Why was he surprised? Kelly made lists for everything. It was just one of the ways she stayed so organized.

“Of course I have a list.” She jumped up, ran around the desk and pulled a pad and pen out of her drawer. “I’m good at making lists.”

“Let me get this straight,” he said, absently slapping the file folder against his pants leg. “You’ve made a list of men you’re thinking of approaching to ask for help with—what? Kissing lessons?”

She flipped a page over and studied it. “That’s right.”

“But I’m not on the list?” he asked warily.

“What? No, absolutely not.” She shook her head as she held up her hand in a pledge. “Of course you’re not on the list. You’re my boss.”

“Good. As long as we’ve got that settled.” He should’ve felt nothing but relief. So why was he getting more annoyed by the minute? She considered him good enough to judge her damn panties but not good enough to kiss?

Okay, that might be the most ridiculous thought he’d had all day. This entire situation was getting out of hand. With a heavy exhalation of breath, he shoved away his own ludicrous reactions and tried to empathize with Kelly’s bizarre quandary.

“So who’s on the list?” he asked, almost afraid to hear her answers.

She glanced up. “What do you think about Jean Pierre?”

“The hotel chef?” She couldn’t be serious.

“He’s French,” she explained. “They invented the sport, right?”

“No way in hell. Not Jean Pierre. You’d probably start an international incident. Absolutely not.”

“Okay, okay.” She crossed Jean Pierre’s name off her list. “What about Jeremy?”

“The guy who mows the lawns?”

“He’s a landscape designer,” she said pointedly. “Practically an artist. He might know a thing or two about the art of l’amour.”

“He’s gay.”

“Really? Why don’t I know these things?” She blew out a frustrated breath as she drew a line through Jeremy’s name. “Nicholas the winemaker? He’s German, right? He might be—”

“Let me see that list.” He snatched the pad from her and gazed at the names. “Paulo, the cabana boy?”

“He’s cute,” she insisted, a little too desperately. “Forget it. Who’s Rocco?”

“One of the limo drivers.”

“Which one?”

“The big guy with the—”

“Never mind.” He shook his head. “No.”

“But—”

“No,” he said, handing the list back. “Throw that away. I don’t want you going around kissing the staff, for God’s sake.”

“Fine.” Glaring at Brandon, she ripped the page out, crumpled it up and tossed it in the waste bin. “I suppose you’re right. It might send the wrong message.”

“You think?” he said, his voice tinged with sarcasm.

She folded her arms tightly across her chest, which only served to emphasize her world-class breasts, damn it.

“So who can I ask for help?” she wondered, leaning her hip against her desk. “I’ve got a full week before Roger gets here. I could do a lot of practicing in that time. Do you have any friends you could recommend?”

“No.”

“Too bad.” She pursed her lips in thought. “Maybe there’s someone in town who—”

“Not a good idea,” he said in a tone that cut off all discussion. Not a good idea? Talk about an understatement. Hell, it was one of the worst ideas Brandon had ever heard. He didn’t want her kissing the staff or any poor, unsuspecting Napa Valley residents. All he needed was to have the locals talking about the crazy kissing woman from the Mansion on Silverado Trail.

But he could tell by the tension building along Kelly’s soft jawline that she was determined to carry out this cockeyed plan of hers. And if she went behind his back and enlisted one of the pool attendants…

Brandon stared at those pouty, glossy lips and realized the only man who could help her improve her kissing technique was him. Mainly because he suddenly couldn’t stand the thought of her kissing anyone else.