Page 38 of Business or Pleasure

“I’d love to.”

Seventeen

Harlee

What the hell had I been thinking, accepting a date with a billionaire from Scotland who happened to be the best friend of my brand-new boss at my amazing new job? A job where, until yesterday, I’d been working on a project for that same guy’s company.

Memories flashed through my mind. Licking champagne off his muscled chest. Laughing with him. Those heated blue eyes of his on me. The feel of him inside me. The taste of rain on our lips as we kissed. The gentle way he’d touched my face at the bar.

Right. That was why.

The oldest member of my department, Augustus Lane, had gone over everything before I handed it over to marketing, so I knew it was up to par. Today, I sat in with Janie Vignon, the head of marketing, as she went through my work. To my surprise, she had no questions or even suggestions for what I should have done. In fact, she complimented how organized I was and how logical my conclusions were. If the thought of tonight’s date wasn’t hovering in the back of my mind, I would’ve enjoyed it even more. Instead, I was fighting the nerves that had crept up at the weirdest times.

The traffic had kept it at bay for the drive home, but the moment I walked into my apartment, I felt like my stomach was going to jump out of my mouth. I spent my entire shower trying to figure out what to wear, but by the time I got out, I’d realized that it didn’t matter what I picked because absolutely nothing in my closet could be worn on a date with a billionaire.

Fortunately, it wasn’t going to be just the two of us, so I said fuck it and chose my outfit based on what I wanted to wear and the fact that it was crazy hot tonight.

Since Baylen was about a foot taller than me, I wanted to wear heels that gave me at least a couple inches, and I’d bought a pair to go with a crimson cross-v backless dress I’d found on sale. With a hem that hit mid-thigh and a neckline that showed off just a hint of cleavage, it was the perfect combination of classy and casual.

Plus, the entire outfit revealed most of my tattoos, and I was in a mood to show them off. I pinned my hair up to get it off my neck and touched up what little makeup I wore. A dab of my favorite vanilla perfume in a few places, and I was ready to go.

Half an hour later, when I opened the door to greet Baylen, a thought popped in my mind, enough to make me laugh, which earned a confused look.

“Sorry,” I said as we walked to the elevator. “I’m not laughing at you. Well, not at you, but you’re the reason I was laughing.”

“Is that good?” His lips held the hint of a smile, and the memory of what they felt like on my body made warmth curl in my stomach.

“It’s actually more the circumstances,” I said. I’ve been learning how to play the bagpipes. He just looked more confused, so I tried to explain, “My mom’s favorite movie was Brigadoon. Since she died, I can’t bring myself to watch it, but bagpipes…they’ll give me a way to think about her that isn’t as painful.”

Shit. That was more revealing than I meant it to be.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” His voice was gentle, and I could hear the sincerity in every word.

“Thank you,” I said as we stepped out into the hot July evening. “I was a kid when it happened, but it still hurts.”

A sleek black car was parked at the curb, and as we approached, a man got out of the driver’s seat and came around to open the back door.

“I thought it would be nice if no one needed to worry about what they drank tonight,” Baylen explained as he slid into the backseat.

Once both of us were settled, I spoke again. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Baylen frowned.

“Talking about my mom dying,” I explained. “That’s not exactly good ‘date’ conversation.”

He reached over and took my hand, threading his fingers between mine. “I want to get to know you. All the parts of you.” He raised our hands and kissed the back of mine. “Thank you for sharing with me.”

This guy couldn’t be for real. Gorgeous, an amazing lover, insanely wealthy, and a genuine gentleman? That was pure mythology there. And more tempting than anything I’d ever had in front of me.

“Tell me about your family,” I said.

“You didn’t research them?” he asked, a teasing tone that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Only what came up when I was looking at business statistics in the UK,” I answered truthfully. “Which means I know that the McFanns are a well-known family in Scotland with a lot of connections.”

“And a lot of money,” he said.

I shrugged. “ Wealthy is a relative term. What might be a big sum to one person could be just a little to another.”

---