Page 9 of The Billionaire's Proposal

I lean back in my chair, pushing back on my toes. “Yes. She’s the coolest person I’ve ever met over thirty.”

“I watched the raw footage. Seems like you had some ‘stuff’ in common.”

Wells watching fourteen hours of tape is astonishing. He’s not a researcher. He likes to wheel and deal. “We did, but I didn’t tell her that. I wanted the day to be about her. She doesn’t need to be bogged down with my baggage.”

Employees file into the conference room, full of kudos for a successful first run. We discuss how to improve the editing and overall performance. And how to tease it on other social media channels.

“Margie was a godsend. Absolutely the perfect person to kick off this media storm,” Pamela says. “And we’re getting calls for her to have a regular segment on the Working Woman.”

“It doesn’t surprise me. Her energy and honesty are contagious.” A grin sneaks over my face, thinking about Margie. She’s one of a kind.

When the meeting adjourns, I fly to North Carolina for contract negotiations in purchasing a smaller satellite communications company. During the flight, I’m consumed by Margie’s words and her outlook on life. She’s something else.

The next day is woman number two. Although I have my law license, I haven’t practiced since taking over Triple W. A rush travels through me as I get excited about using my knowledge again.

As I exit the vehicle, I see a woman sitting at one of the picnic tables placed in a U-shape around Cups & Crumbs food truck. I know it’s her because the film crew is filming her first, an adjustment we made in the meeting, wanting to capture the women’s apprehension, nervousness, or confidence about meeting me.

Her mahogany hair hits just past her shoulders in bountiful waves. She’s wearing large Jackie-O type sunglasses and when I approach, she stands in a flowered sundress, nearly touching the ground. She’s a fucking vision—sweet and innocent looking.

She offers her hand. “Mr. Worthington, I presume.”

“Yes, and you’re Cameron.”

She nods as she pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head, revealing golden-brown eyes, a shade darker than a butterscotch candy. Getting lost in them is easy until she clears her throat, “Ahem.”

“Sorry. You, uh. Have uh… beautiful eyes.” My voice grates out. Why am I at a loss for words? Because her eyes are fucking mesmerizing. I concentrate on her mouth, and I swear I’ve seen those kissable lips before. My insides are spiraling, unable to focus. The long sundress dusts the ground and leaves her shape to the imagination, and mine is running wild.

“Thank you.”

“Let me order our coffees. Stiff, right?”

“The stiffer the better.”

Oh, holy hell. Keeping my mind on business will be damn near impossible. I come back from the food truck with two black cups and like a pussy, I add two sugar packets to mine. She tries to hide her smile as she lifts the cup to those peachy-pink lips. One of the workers brings over a croissant with chocolate glaze zigzagging over the top.

“Sweet tooth?” she asks.

My head tilts to the side. “Pastries, yes, but I don’t like candy.”

“Interesting. Is that because you think pastries are acceptable but walking around with a Milky Way isn’t?” she asks with a sarcastic tone.

In an instant, she has me defensive. “No.”

Cameron lifts her chin, then sips her coffee. I shove down the feeling that I know her from somewhere. The tone of her voice is somewhat familiar.

“So, tell me a little about yourself.”

“Well, as you read or someone read to you, I’m an entrepreneur. Own my own business, and this asshole is threatening legal action against me.”

“I do prepare for all of my meetings, so yes, I read your letter. Was the video you uploaded in bad taste? Was it revealing?”

Her black lashes come together as her eyes narrow. “What type of business do you think I own?”

It’s one thing my team couldn’t find out. There was no business in the state of Florida listed under Cameron Darling. I’m trying to keep calm, but she’s digging for something.

“I don’t know since you either use a different name for your business, or you’re operating illegally without a license.”

She laughs. She fucking laughs. And why do I love the way she throws her head back and a piece of hair sticks to her lip gloss?

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