Page 98 of Billionaire Temptations

“Thank you.” I smiled.

I sat and ate my dinner as the two of them talked business. I would lie if I said Alex’s business talk didn’t turn me on. What the hell was wrong with me?

Chapter Eight

Alex

After finishing dinner and our business discussion, I escorted Greyson to the door, but not before he kissed Emerson on the cheek and thanked her for an enjoyable dinner. I didn’t like the way he’d been staring at her. When he left, I followed her into the kitchen and watched as she put away the rest of the dishes.

“So, you studied cooking in Tuscany?”

“Yep,” she replied, placing the plates inside the cabinet.

“Why did you leave?”

“It was time to.”

“Would you care to elaborate on that?” I asked.

She turned and looked at me as I sat down at the island with my hands folded on the granite countertop.

“Nope.” She gave a small smile.

“Did you leave another broken heart behind?” I smirked.

“Maybe.” She put the glasses away.

A piece of plastic was sitting on the counter, so I grabbed it to throw it in the trashcan. When I opened the lid, I noticed several red rose petals in the garbage.

“What are those?” I asked as I pointed to them.

She walked over and looked down into the garbage.

“Looks like rose petals. Strange. I wonder where they came from.”

I cocked my head and glared at her. She knew damn well where they came from.

“Don’t lie to me, Emerson. I don’t like liars, and I won’t tolerate being lied to.”

She rolled her eyes and put her hands up.

“Fine. Do you want the embarrassing truth? I thought your dinner guest was your girlfriend, and I lit some candles and spread rose petals across the table to make the dinner more romantic. But when you walked in with Greyson, I freaked out and hurried and cleared the candles and the rose petals from the table. How would that have looked, having dinner with another man with candlelight and rose petals staring you in the face?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “First of all, I don’t have a girlfriend, and second of all, even if I did, she would have known something was wrong because I don’t do candlelight dinners or rose petals.”

Her eye narrowed as she stared at me. “Why don’t you do candlelight dinners or rose petals?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m just not that romantic of a guy.”

She shrugged and turned away. Turning back around, she narrowed her eye again. “If you don’t have a girlfriend, who was that woman you had lunch with the other day?”

“A casual friend whom I date on occasion.”

“Ah, a friends-with-benefits type of woman. I gotcha.”

“Friends with benefits?” I asked curiously.

“Yeah. You know—a person whom you call a friend and have casual sex with. No strings, no commitments. Just sex, sex, and more sex when you want it.”

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