Page 27 of The Billionaire's Second Chance
His eyes flashed, so,sogreen.
“Tell me, Sam. What is the word for when you had something once, and want it again? Want more?”
I knew this one, too.
It was a feeling I was intimately familiar with: “Greed.”
CHAPTER14
Charlie
I didn’t knowSimon Sterling personally, but I knewofhim, and I was fairly certain that someone I knew would know someone he knew. Today, I was tempted to figure out who. To send an email or a monogrammed note card asking why the hell his great-grandfather had put his namesake hotelso damn closeto the NYPL, made itso damn temptingto just drop in,so damn easyfor justanyonewith a black card to justget a room.
“This seems familiar,” I said, closing the door behind me.
Behindus.
Sam stalked across the room, dropping her leather work bag on the table with a heavy thump.
“Well, don’t get used to it.”
I scoffed. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” she said, turning to face me. “And youwon’ttell anyone.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” I agreed easily. “They wouldn’t believe me, anyway.” She slipped off her blazer, hanging it neatly on a chair. She was wearing a white silk blouse that left her arms bare. Lightly bronzed shoulders, slim arms. Delicate wrists. She was sopretty, my Sami.
No, not mine.
“Do you want me to ask what’s going on with you?”
She gave me a look.
“Okay. Message received: I wouldn’t dare.”
She smiled at that.
“You know, Sami,” I said. “You’re… very difficult to get a read on. Ilikea challenge,” I hurried on before she could protest. “But just tell me one thing.”
“What is it?” she said.
“You’re not going to run away again after this, are you?” I asked. What was the saying? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times, shame on my dick. Something like that. I didn’t know–I was a programmer, not a poet.
“Of course not,” Sam said flatly.
“Of course not,” I mimicked. “Of course not, she says.”
“We have a gala to organize. Adual literacy campaignto promote,” she said, staring me down. I cocked my head. “New York Lit award decision-makers to impress,” she finished.
I had to laugh. “Maybe I should ask James to get me a position on the board. Those Lit people are the only ones who can keep you in line. I could pay a few of them off…”
She tensed.Okay, not funny.
“...but I don’t need to. You have that award in the bag already. Just look at the lengths you’re willing to go to.” I whipped my shirt off over my head, thankful for this morning’s session with my personal trainer. I knew I looked good, and presumably this was what Sam was interested in… right? It was certainly–tragically–not my sparkling wit and wonderful sense of humor, at least not that she’d ever suggested. And that was fine by me. I dropped my eyes to the waistband of my jeans, hooking my thumb into the narrow strip of boxer brief elastic that peeked from under the denim. “Suchgreatlengths. And girths.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“I like you better with your mouth closed,” she said, crossing her arms.
