Page 9 of Tempting the Billionaire
“Yeah …” I bite my lip. “Um, actually … my car’s having issues. And the Uber rates are insane this time of day.” I make an apologetic face. “Is there any way you’d be able to give me a ride home?”
Surprise flashes across his face, then understanding. “Oh. Yes, of course.” He glances back at his computer momentarily. “I was just about done here anyway. Let me just finish up this email.”
I stand awkwardly in the doorway while he types away. I try to internally calm my nerves, reminding myself that I’m supposed to be sexy right now, that I need to appear calm, confident, alluring.
Ezra snaps his laptop shut and stands, shooting me a smile. “Are you ready to go?” he asks, putting his laptop into his briefcase.
I nod, clutching my purse to my side.
“Great.” He grabs his keys from the desk and then moves to leave the room. I’m still standing in the doorway, and I force myself not to move, meaning he has to brush past me in order to get out. His arm grazes my shoulder, and I smell the scent of his cologne. Something like sandalwood.
I follow him out into the shop where he walks over to the wall and flicks off a few lights, leaving us in slight darkness.
His gaze catches mine for a moment, and it’s almost as if time stands still, my breath frozen in my throat—nothing matters except for the glint in his eyes, the tension in the air around us.
But he quickly breaks that spell and stalks across the room toward the front door. I hurry after him. We step out into the cool autumn evening. The sun is just about to set as we walk down Newbury Street.
“I love the sunsets here,” I say quietly, walking beside him.
He nods, smiling softly. “Yeah. Something about the way the city glows … it’s always mesmerized me.”
“I’m assuming you grew up here?” I ask.
“Yeah. Beacon Hill area. I grew up coming into the shop and watching my grandfather work on jewelry designs.” He chuckles softly. “So this sunset walk is a very familiar one.”
I look ahead, watching the orange glow as it spreads across the city.
“Are you from here too?” he asks.
“Basically. Grew up in Waltham and moved to the city for school. Then I just stayed.” I leave out the part about the abusive ex-boyfriend and how my last job closed down. How I’d hoped this would be a fresh new start for me when it’s actually turning into a complete nightmare. I swallow the lump forming in my throat.
“How do you like it?” Ezra asks. “The city, I mean.”
I don’t know how to answer. Mainly because so much of Boston has been associated with Justin, with Stoll Jewelers. And now this. Maybe I should have stayed in my tiny hometown. “I love it,” I lie, turning to him with a smile. “I absolutely love it.”
He smiles back at me, and it’s then that I notice a dimple on the right side of his face. Just the right side. So adorably uneven.
We reach his car and, to my surprise, he opens my door for me, gesturing me in. I raise an eyebrow at him. “What a gentleman,” I tease.
He laughs. “What can I say? My mother taught me right.” He closes the door and comes around, climbing into the driver’s seat.
Suddenly inside a car with the man, I can’t help but realize how close of quarters we’re in. We’re barely a foot away from each other. Close enough to … do the things Justin wants from me.
“Want to plug your address into Google Maps?” Ezra asks, handing over his phone.
My fingers brush lightly against his as I take his phone, sending shivers up my spine. I quickly type in my address and hand the phone back.
We drive down the streets of Boston in silence for a few moments, and I start out the window at the passing buildings. I feel like my body is on fire. Like the world is about to implode. Is the tension just on my side, or can he feel it too?
I glance sideways at him. He has both hands on the steering wheel, and he’s looking straight ahead. He seems calm. I stare at the outline of his jaw, how it seems chiseled out of stone. At the gray smattering of hair at his temples.
“So what do you do besides run the most successful jewelry empire on the east coast?” I ask,placing my elbow on the center console and leaning toward him.
A quiet chuckle escapes him. “Not much, really,” he answers, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Oh, come on, there must be something,” I press.
He stares ahead in thought for a moment. “I enjoy reading,” he finally says.
