Heat Exchange (The Alpha Billionaire's Virgin Book 1) (15 page)

But she did know she wasn't going to stick around to the end. That would mean hours more of miserable loitering and she was tired of sniffling pathetically in Nyall's kitchen. She dug a piece of paper out of her purse and scribbled out instructions for spreading on the sour cream topping and making the strawberry syrup.

"What are you doing?"

She looked up. Nyall was standing in the entranceway scowling at her. "Writing you a note. You need to wait for the cheesecake to chill when it comes out of the oven and then put on the toppings. I forgot to tell you all that before."
Because I was so eager to get to the end of the game
.
Oh, how times change.

With the memory of how wonderful things had been just a few hours ago, Janey discovered she
did
have more saline left to spare despite what she'd thought; new tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks. She pulled a tissue from her purse and blew her nose loudly.

"Janey, will you stop crying? You don't need to go."

"Yes, I do."

"I want you to stay," he said baldly.

"No," she said.

"Look, this whole thing is ridiculous. If you really think you have nothing important to contribute to this arrangement, we'll work something out. Though you're wrong about that."

She shook her head, pressing her lips tightly together. This pressuring Nyall was hard to fight.

He said gently, "Put this stuff away. Come into the bedroom and lie down with me. I'll hold you and we'll both feel better."

"I don't know why you're making this hard for me, Nyall, but please stop."

"All right." He fixed a hard gaze on her. "I want you to stay a little longer. I've asked a couple of guests over."

"Guests?" she echoed in dismay and shoved her chair back. "Oh, no, I have to go now."

"They're for you and me, Janey. If we can't come to an arrangement on our own, then we're getting help. We'll do this the hard way if that's the only way."

"Do what?" She was bewildered. "We're all done. There's nothing more to do."

"Fix this. I want you
here
. And despite what you're saying, you want to be here, too. Otherwise, why would you be crying? We both made mistakes but we're going to move past that with the help of some professional negotiation. I've hired an expert in conflict resolution."

Janey's jaw dropped. She couldn't have been more astonished if he'd said he'd hired a surgeon to remove an extraterrestrial from her brain.

"But why?" she said. "Why would you do something like that?"

"Time, Janey." He knelt down by her chair and stroked her jaw. "If you go now, we lose precious time. I haven't been able to schedule a vacation like this since I sold my first startup. I have a week for you. After that, it's an hour or two here and there and that's not enough."

"Enough for what?" She shook her head to clear it. "You don't have to give me
any
hours. I don't expect to see you again. You already did what you said you would. I don't feel like a virgin anymore."

His mouth tightened. "That's good, I think. But we still haven't gone the whole hog. Until I put my cock inside you, you're still not going to be absolutely, a hundred percent sure you're ready for sex. Are you?"

When he put it like that, so softly, caressing her earlobe with his fingers, she almost believed…

"No!" She stood up, glaring. "Nyall Anderson, you're using unfair tactics on me. You really are the hardboiled businessman I first thought you were, aren't you?"

When he rose to his feet again, the chill was back in his eyes. "Amy and her friend will be here soon. You're staying until then at least."

"Amy? You asked Amy here already?" Her eyes bulged. "Wait, is she the expert on conflict resolution that you called?"

"No, her friend is."

"Oh." Janey stared at him.

"It's not what you're thinking," he said with exasperation.

"What am I thinking?" She blushed.

"You're thinking I called Amy so I can fuck her."

She nodded.

"Well, you're wrong."

"But you should," she said wisely. "After I'm gone, you'll need some sexual release. You'll see."

"I'm hoping we won't get to the point of testing that," he said, sounding annoyed. "Will you go wash your face and comb your hair? You look like you've been thrown on a table and fucked hard."

"Boy, you really had me with that tender act," she said, sniffing. "Being all nice and gentle when really you just want to give orders. I'm only doing this because I want to meet Amy."

She went beyond what he suggested, showering, dressing in a blouse and pants, then combing her hair after doing a cursory search for a blow dryer, which she didn't normally use.

She was looking at her reflection in the bathroom mirror when the door opened and Nyall walked in without warning.

"Hey. What if I hadn't been dressed?"

"Then I'd faint from the shock," he said, returning her frown. "It's not like I had my mouth all over your pussy just a little while ago. Oh, wait."

"That's not funny." Her eyes stung that he would make fun of her now.

He came behind her, so achingly beautiful as he gazed at her reflection that she had to look away. "You're primping?"

"I'm trying to decide if I should pluck my eyebrows and put on makeup," she explained. "Makeup makes my skin itch. And I didn't bring a tweezers. I didn't expect to get slivers here."

"Why would you want to do all that now?"

"Because I don't want to disappoint Amy. "

"
Disappoint
her?"

She waved her hand. "Your mistresses are glamorous. I saw pictures on the Internet. Well, I didn't see Amy, but most of them. I don't look anything like them."

"Why should you?" He sounded cross.

"I want her to think I belong," Janey said. "I don't want her to think I'm here because you were sorry for me. I guess she knows that anyway, though. Plus it's dishonest to try to pretend I'm the kind of girl that plucks her eyebrows."

"Dammit to hell, Janey. You didn't pluck your eyebrows for
me
. You didn't even trim your pussy. What do you care if Amy thinks you don't look like my mistr—sex partners."

"Trim my pussy?" Her eyes widened. "Are your sex partners supposed to do that? I didn't know."

"No!" He sounded so explosive she jerked back. "You're just supposed to do what you did. I'm teaching you everything you need to know. All right?"

"Were, Nyall," she said sadly. "Were teaching me."

"Janey," he said warningly. "I'm very close to just—" He broke off at the sound of a discreet but unmistakable buzzer.

"Is that them at the door?" She tensed.

"Probably." He tilted her chin up and fixed her eyes intently with his. "You don't need to look like anything but you. I don't give a shit what Amy thinks. She wanted to meet you but you don't need to act like anyone else."

"She did? Want to meet me?" Janey brightened. "Hurry, let her in, Nyall."

Janey lurked behind him as he opened the door. Out in the hallway a lanky black-haired man even taller than Nyall stood next to the most beautiful woman Janey had ever seen. She blinked, awed.
This
was Amy?

Mentally, Janey had envisioned a perky, cute young woman, maybe with a nose ring and combat boots.

Nuh-uh. Amy looked like all the other women pictured with Nyall on Internet photos, only more so.

Statuesque, with dark auburn hair styled shorter on one side, matching colored glasses and wearing a tailored black suit, Amy was this short of passing for a Parisian runway model. Her figure was incredible, her makeup striking, and her jewelry eclectic. Aside from a tic in her right shoulder that made her purse swing wildly, she was everything Janey had ever wished she could be.

Janey immediately felt insecure.

Amy's gaze zeroed in on Janey and she looked her up and down. "No way, you're Janey? Hey, Ny. This is Oliver Dalton, our moderator dude."

"Thanks for coming, Oliver." Nyall shook the hand of the skinny man and stood back, shutting the door behind the pair. Janey didn't miss Nyall's squeezing of Amy's arm or the quick, friendly punch she gave him in the chest. It was a little surprising, but maybe that's the way long-time sex partners liked to greet each other.

"Sure, not a problem at all," Oliver said. "I'm glad to be here. This is a terrific chance for me."

"Oliver's the author of
Resynthesis,
you may have heard of it," Amy said. "Changing the face of workplace counseling in the Pacific Northwest and all that shit."

"Can't say I have," Nyall said.

"Don't worry about it," Oliver said in his soft-spoken, well-modulated voice. "When Amy told me you wanted to try out my system, I knew it was the perfect opportunity to throw it out into the wild. You'll be the first in vivo couple to try professionally guided resynthesis. You must be Jane." His eyes shone out warmth behind his spectacles as he offered his hand, which Janey took shyly.

"Janey," she said, deciding that despite his nonsensical words, she trusted his compassionate-looking face.

Nyall took her by the shoulders and moved her in front of him. "Janey, say hi to my
friend
, Amy
.
"

"Hello," Janey said, wondering what he was implying with the emphasis on "friend." Then, because she couldn't think what else to say to Amy, "You're very beautiful."

"Hey, thanks. I've got a system for getting the package on. Fifteen minutes flat. I'll show you sometime if you want." Amy grinned. "You're totally not what I expected. Nyall hasn't even banged you yet?"

"Behave, Amy," Nyall said.

"My sweet," Oliver said mellowly, wrapping his arm around Amy's waist. "Remember, Janey's not used to you yet. Time is the first principle of acclimation."

Amy ran her finger down his chest, and Janey guessed that they were a couple, becoming even more convinced of it when the other woman said, "I'm totally jumping on you later for the psych talk."

"Amy's best in small batches," Nyall murmured, guiding Janey to the seating area by the hand, adding to the trailing Oliver, "You're a brave man to work with her."

Amy followed them, taking a smartphone out of her purse and squinting at it. "No, seriously? None of the data after September 18? My ass is toast." She glanced up at Janey. "Nyall's so pathetic. He, like, cut me off for you. Shag him or he won't buy me any more scones."

"Thanks a hell of a lot, Winch," Nyall said, and Oliver said, "Remember that discussion we had about sensitivity to nuance."

"Oliver's a trip," Amy said. "But he's onto something with this resynthesis crap. Where are we doing this, here?" Without waiting for a reply, Amy plopped down on an armchair, pulled her feet up flat on the cushion, and propped her elbows up on her splayed knees to hold her phone. She got caught by the screen. "Incompetence? Geez, Paul, it's not like Brian friggin' pressed delete. Those guys need a latte."

"What is
this
that we're doing again
?" Janey whispered nervously. Nyall had dragged her with him onto the sofa. She didn't like being this close to him and inched away, but he pulled her back between his legs.

"Fixing us," Nyall whispered back in her ear, and Janey moved her head away because it reminded her too much of the elevator.

"Very interesting place you have," Oliver said, taking a seat on an ottoman. "Very open. Natural light brings healing energy in through the pupils."

"It's like the boarding area at SeaTac," Amy snorted without looking up.

"You'll need to keep it down during the session, my sweet," Oliver said softly. "Now. What is all this about? Amy said you were having some relationship difficulties. Janey, Nyall, you're involved in a relationship together?'

Janey shook her head, while Nyall said, "Yep."

Oliver looked thoughtful. "I see you're not in agreement about whether or not you're in a relationship."

"Janey and I are supposed to spend the week together," Nyall said. "We have a special arrangement."

"That's true," Janey said hurriedly. "But I don't want to talk about the specifics. It's personal and private."

"Well, we might have to talk a little about it," Oliver said mildly. "So is that the conflict? Trying to come to a common ground in defining your relationship?"

"No," Nyall said. "I want Janey to stay, and she wants to go. You're here to convince her to stay."

Janey scowled and wiggled away, moving to the other end of the sofa. Nyall's eyelids lowered but he didn't stop her.

"We'll see how it goes," Oliver said soothingly. "Let's tackle this with the seven stages of resynthesis. The first stage is backtracking."

"Also known as angsting," Amy piped up. "You guys have to spill your guts. Just puke it out, all the drama."

"Er, what Amy means is that this is where you tell your side of the story," Oliver said. "Nyall, why don't you start."

"Sure," Nyall said lazily. "I wanted Janey, so I made a deal with her. I suggested she stay with me this week. I was an ass and lost my temper with her when my assistant called at an inopportune time. Now she wants to run. I want her to stay."

Janey's mouth opened and closed.

"Janey? What about your side?"

"Uh. Well, that's…that's not the whole story." Janey couldn't believe they were all sitting here, discussing this. Was this, then, how the rich half lived? "I guess I could, um. Is this private? I mean, will you talk about this with anyone?"

"Not if they value their lives, their income, and their social standing, they won't," Nyall said.

Over in the armchair, Amy lifted her head to stare at Nyall for a moment. She looked over at Janey. "You've got to fuck him," Amy said. "That's just yum."

"What do you mean?" Janey said, her face burning.

Amy waved her hand in Nyall's direction. "He's going all caveman for you."

"Oh." She bit her lip. "Nyall's being discreet to protect me. I'm a virgin," she blurted out.

"Whoa!" Amy planted her feet on the floor. "No fucking way!"

"Winch, if you—"

"Amy, I told you…"

Beep. Beep. Beep.