Tempted by Her Billionaire Boss

“Relax,” Harrison ordered, pulling his laptop out of his briefcase. “This is going to be the smoothest ride of your life, trust me.”

“Now you’ve jinxed us,” Frankie said grimly. She picked up her cell phone to turn it off. He waved a hand at her.

“Not necessary on this flight. You can use the Wi-Fi anytime.”

Of course they could. Why waste one usable moment when you could be poring through the stock market? Checking the price of precious metals? She sighed and settled into her seat. Her hope that at some point Harrison’s battery might run out had been wishful thinking.

Her phone pinged with a text message. It was from Danny, who was managing Tomasino’s party in her absence.

The cake’s not here. When is it supposed to arrive?

Frankie frowned and glanced at her watch. An hour ago. Surely her brother hadn’t forgotten?

Call the restaurant, she texted back. I’m sure it’s on the way.

Harrison looked over at her. “Problems?”

She shook her head. “Just this thing I’m supposed to be at. He’ll figure it out.”

The attendant came by to check their seat belts and ask what they’d like to drink once they were airborne. Harrison requested a scotch. Frankie gladly followed suit and asked for a glass of wine. Anything that calmed the anxiety clawing its way up her throat was a good thing.

Another text came in. He hasn’t left yet. Dammit. Frankie sent a text to her brother Salvatore. Get that cake there, now. You owe me.

“Men,” she muttered. Why couldn’t they be as buttoned-down as women?

Her boss glanced up from his laptop. “Trust me, he’ll be fine. If he has any sense he’ll be waiting with an armful of flowers when you get back.”

Frankie gave him an uncomprehending look. “Oh—no, it’s not that. It’s my brother. He’s supposed to be delivering a birthday cake to the party I was hosting and he’s late.”

His dark brows came together. “You were hosting a party?”

“At the church, yes.” The engines roared. She kept talking as her pulse skyrocketed. “I host Wednesday night bingo games for the seniors. I’ve been doing it since I was eighteen. Tomasino Giardelli, whose birthday it is, is like a grandfather to me. It’s his eightieth, so we decided to throw him a party and Mama made Tomasino her special tiramisu cake. Which,” she added darkly, “he is going to love if Salvatore gets his behind over there with it before it’s over. The seniors are wilting as we speak.”

“Salvatore?”

“My brother.”

A sober look crossed his face. “I’m sorry you’re missing the birthday party.”

“You didn’t know.”

“I didn’t ask.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond to that so she looked down at her hands clasped together in a death lock. His gaze sat on her as the jet taxied off to sit in line behind two others. “You really spend every Wednesday night hosting bingo?”

She tightened her seat belt, her heart going pitter-patter as the captain announced they were two minutes to takeoff. “It’s always been part of what we do as a family— giving back to the community is important for my parents. It’s been good to them.”

“Coburn said they have a restaurant in Brooklyn?”

She nodded. ‘I’m the youngest of six procreated bus people.”

He smiled at that. “Shouldn’t you be out on dates instead of hosting bingo? Living the Manhattan single life?”

She made a face. “The last date I was on, the very well-mannered stockbroker I thought I was out with accosted me in the elevator on the way down from the restaurant. That was enough for me.”

His brows rose. “Accosted?”

Frankie gave an embarrassed wave of her hand. “He kissed me. He wouldn’t stop kissing me. And frankly, he was bad at it. I mean, can you imagine?”

The amusement in his eyes deepened. “I can. I mean I can’t in that he should never have put his hands on you without your permission but the poor guy was probably just desperate.”

Frankie crossed her arms over her chest, an image of her flashing him with her lace pull-ups filling her head. Did he think she usually gave men come-ons like that? She wished she could wipe that entire night from their heads.

“You still don’t do that,” she said stiffly.

“No,” he agreed. “You don’t.” He gave her a thoughtful look as the jet revved its engines and started down the runway, the speed at which the gray pavement flew by making Frankie light-headed. “Poor-mannered guy aside, there must be a man in your life. You’re too attractive for there not to be.”

Her chin dipped. “I’m married to my work for the next few years.”

“Or you’re hung up on someone.”

The inflection in his voice made her lift her chin and narrow her gaze on him. “No—just not dating.”

He shrugged. “Good. Because I’d hate for you to waste your time on my brother, Francesca. He is undoubtedly a magnetic personality and an inspiring leader, but he is not boyfriend material by any stretch of the imagination.”

Boyfriend material? She blinked at the twin assaults being mounted on her, one from the air as they climbed at a petrifyingly steep angle and one from the man opposite her. “Is that what he thinks? That I have a crush on him?” Good God. So she’d responded to a few of her boss’s flirtatious smiles lately. She was human.

“I can assure you,” she said crisply, “I do not have a crush on Coburn.”

He held up a hand. “Just a friendly piece of advice. I’ve seen it happen too many times.”

The jet climbed swiftly into the clouds. Frankie gave the receding ground an anxious look, her stomach swooping as the plane rode a current of air. Was that why Coburn had handed her over so easily to Harrison? Because he thought she had a crush on him? That was wrong. So wrong.

A scowl twisted her lips. Good to know the two Grant brothers both had egos the size of their fortunes... Her resentment faded to terror as they went through a bumpy patch of cloud, her fingers digging into the armrests.

Harrison sighed and set his computer aside. “You really are terrified of flying.”

She clamped down harder on the leather. “Something else to add to my list of eccentricities.”

He smiled. “I rather like Rocky. And all joking aside, the seniors, your work in the community, I appreciate your altruism, Francesca. It’s refreshing.”

“The Grant family does the same.”

A cynical light filled his eyes. “There is an intent and purpose behind everything my family does. It’s all done with a camera in sight and cleverly crafted messaging at the ready. Hardly the same thing.”

His candor caught her off guard. “Hardly surprising with the White House in mind.”

He arched a brow at her. “Do we? Have the White House in mind?”