Page 25 of The Billionaire Experience

CHAPTER SEVEN

Her heart mule-kicked her ribs. Most of her assumed his idea was to make out on the sofa for the next hour or so… Or maybe that was what she was hoping he’d say.

He leaned forward a scant bit, drawing her in. His voice was quiet, sensual when he asked, “What if I was your only customer for the next three-to-six months?”

She blinked out of the fantasy of his lips on hers. “Come again?”

“Hear me out.” His voice was still low and rocky, and damned distracting. “I’m in a house for the first time, fixing shit, taking care of shit. I have a hundred questions a day. If you were on call, I could ask them all at once. Also, I’ve written more words tonight than I’ve written in the last year. In addition to being a kickass handywoman, you might also be my muse.”

She didn’t know what to say. Memories came up of the many, many discussions she’d had with Dustin about her getting “a cushy office job” like him instead of “fixing toilets” for a living. She’d politely repeated that office life wasn’t for her, but deep down she had been offended whenever he’d suggested a career change. She liked what she did and believed it to be an honorable profession. People needed her. She made others’ lives better.

Being referred to as a “kickass handywoman” by Brody was a welcome change of pace. Being his muse was another prospect entirely, one she wasn’t sure she fully believed. She focused on his offer to hire her exclusively. “I have customers who have standing monthly visits, so they would be my priority. No offense.”

“I respect that. Do you have a lot of customers?”

“A fair amount.”

“Could you answer the calls with your standing customers and work with me the rest of the time? No more after-hours stuff, I promise. Tonight was a one-time thing.”

Unbidden, disappointment flooded her chest. Kissing on the sofa seemed to have receded even further from reality.

“Name your price. I’ll double your rate for thirty hours a week. For the next”—he bobbed his head while he thought—“three months?”

“Three months?”

“I’m here until the book is done. I’m committed to writing it fast, especially now that your magical muse powers have been revealed.” He wiggled his fingers like a sorcerer.

“That’s a very generous offer, but…”

“No buts. You’d be helping me out of a predicament. I have been shark diving without a cage, and yet I’m being handed my own ass by basic house repair.”

She offered a soft laugh, and he smiled, leaning forward as if expecting a yes. And why should she say no? She loved this house. The idea of upgrading it on Brody’s dime was tempting.

“What do you say?” His voice was accidentally sexy—although she was beginning to believe that accidentally sexy was his baseline.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” Now he sounded excited.

She nodded.

“Ah, relief.” He flattened his palm against his chest and blew out a breath. “Write up an invoice for me. We can reevaluate in a few weeks’ time to make sure you’re not sick of me by then.”

She shook her head. If it was a line, it was a good one. Brody was interesting and fun. And so attractive her teeth hurt. Sick of him in a few weeks’ time sounded as outrageous to her as shark diving without a cage.

“Will you go back to New York when the book is finished?” she asked.

“That’s home base.” He shrugged. “I’ll continue to travel for a while until a new experience finds me.”

“What are you going to do with the house?”

“I don’t know. Might be attached to it by then and keep it. Or, hell, maybe I’ll give it to Jaylyn if she decides to stay in Chicago.”

Damn. If he was seriously considering giving it to his sister, there was no way he’d sell it to Reagan. Unless she was able to convince him otherwise over the course of the next three months…

She could be persuasive when she needed to be. What if he grew to appreciate her, both as his handywoman and his muse? What if he decided after he’d written the book that the best person to own the house would be Reagan?

“Shake on it to make it official?” He offered an outstretched hand.

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