The Billionaire's Longshot: Betting on You Series: Book Three (6 page)

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” Drew commented.

“Don’t go there. Remember you volunteered me to co-host this thing. You know what they say about payback.” He was agitated, a rare emotion for the others to see.

“I remember being volunteered to be part of a certain fundraiser, and look at me now.” Jon laughed but Ross didn’t. “She’s a really sweet girl, Ross. Just don’t forget that.”

I don’t plan on it.
“Thanks. See you in Napa,” he said, then disconnected the call.

Ross must have lost his mind. That is the only explanation he could come up with for the thoughts running through his head. Fly her out to California with him, but don’t show up at the event. Steal her away onto his sailboat and spend a week at sea making love to her.
Totally lost my mind.

“He’s picking me
up shortly, so I better get going.”

“Have a good time and stop overthinking everything.” Lizette said. “Everything Jon says about Ross makes him sound like a wonderful man. Levelheaded and responsible, you would be perfect for him.”

Me, perfect? Far from it.
“Okay, got it. Don’t think, just let it happen. But I have to go and finish getting ready. I know you don’t want me to be late” she said and hung up.

She was ready, but she needed a few minutes to calm her nerves. She went to the full-length mirror for the last once-over. She didn’t want to overdo, so she wore a red wrap dress and matching heels. This was only the first date. For all she knew, it also might be the last. He was difficult, if not impossible, to read. Pacing around her small apartment was not easing her anxiety.
Why is this date different than any other?
The answer was clear; he made her feel something she had never felt before. She wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but it brought butterflies to her stomach, thinking of seeing him tonight.
Maybe this was a bad idea.

The doorbell announced his arrival, making it way too late to back out. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door. He stood there, holding a single red rose. “I thought this might be a better choice.”

Whatever doubt she had about the date vanished. Laughing softly, she said, “It’s beautiful. Thank you. Do you want to come in?”

“I have a car waiting for us. Maybe after dinner.”

Don’t overthink it!
Not trusting her voice, she picked up her purse and keys and locked the door behind them.

“I made reservations at One by Land, Two by Sea,” he said once they were inside the car.

It wasn’t a place she was familiar with, but whatever he chose was most likely better than anything she would have suggested.
Say something . . . anything.
Why did she become tongue-tied around him? She had never been at a loss for words before, even when she should have been. It wasn’t his wealth, because she had no problem speaking with Abby Corisi, and one couldn’t get much more powerful than that family. It wasn’t only his looks, though on a scale of one to ten, he was a fifteen in her book.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled the scent of him. Masculine. Turning slightly she met his gaze; he was staring at her, studying her. Jill shivered slightly as their eyes met.

Ross reached out and took her hand in his, raised it to his lips, and placed a kiss on it. “Are you cold?”

Far, far from it.
She was not about to admit the true nature of her goose bumps, however. “A bit.”

She expected he would request the driver to turn the heat on. Instead, he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. Tipping her face to look at him, he said, “I can fix that.”

His lips came down onto hers, a light caress, soft like the first, yet he didn’t pull away this time. Instead his kiss deepened, his tongue traced her lips tenderly, prodding her to open to him. A moan escaped as her lips parted, giving him access to his desire. Overcome by her own need to taste him, she entwined her tongue with his, exploring him as eagerly as he did her. He stroked her jaw, then neck, tracing his fingers lower until his thumb brushed her cleavage. Instantly her body tensed. Fear? Excitement? More likely a combination of both.
Please don’t stop.

Ross didn’t further his exploration, yet he also didn’t remove his hand. His thumb continued to trace the peak of one breast then the other. She could feel her nipples harden and heat flood between her legs. Ever so slowly he let his hand drop from her. Then his kisses lightened. “Is that better?” he asked, only inches from her mouth.

Is that better?
That man can kiss. She couldn’t remember a time she’d been kissed with such finesse and fire. She knew she couldn’t read him, but everything about that kiss was unexpected. She was shaking, and her skin tingled in every spot he had touched. She failed at gaining her composure; her voice was shaky when she answered, “Much.”

He sat back but didn’t release his hold on her.
If this is how the date starts, how is it going to end?
Forcing the thought from her mind, she tried to concentrate on the present.

The car stopped, and she noticed they were in front of what looked like an old fire station, converted into a restaurant. It looked warm and inviting. As they entered, the phrase
you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover
came to mind.

The restaurant was elegant and formal. The dark, worn wooden floors complemented the aged brick walls, giving an authentic and classy feel to the building. Tall arched windows lined the outer walls, and Jill could only imagine how beautiful the natural light would have been if they’d come for lunch. Instead, the room was lit by a tiered brass chandelier with faux candles, hanging from the black ceiling. The staircase was on the only wall that was drywalled, painted a chestnut brown to accentuate the room. The stairs led to an open loft, which was a private party room. Antique paintings of historical figures and still lifes hung on the walls between sconces, each topped with its own tiny lampshade.

She had spent several years waitressing and never had to dress as formally as the staff here; they wore tuxedos. Jill stopped in her tracks, feeling as though everyone was staring at her.

“Something wrong?” Ross asked.

She had worn a nice outfit, yet at this moment she felt underdressed. As she scanned the attire of the other women, one thing came to mind. D
esigner labels.
She noticed Ross fit right in. How had she not realized this before? “I didn’t know you were taking me somewhere so . . . fancy. I’m not dressed for this.”

Smiling at her, he put a hand on the small of her back and whispered close to her ear, “You look amazing, but would you rather go back to your place?” he asked suggestively.

Jill wasn’t ready for that either. “This will be fine.”

The maître d’ took a quick look at Ross and said, “Your table is this way, Mr. Whitman.”

The man led them to a more secluded table in a separate room. She could hear the other dinner guests chatting and could see them through the door, so she let herself relax. She sat down across the table from the chair Ross pulled out before she realized he had pulled it out for her. He smiled and took the chair for himself in stride.

“So private,” she said, giving Ross a questioning look.

Ross said, “I thought we could continue the conversation we started earlier this week.”

She nodded with enthusiasm. The waiter entered the room and handed them each a menu. Jill scanned it. Appetizers: Wild Mushroom Tart, Arctic Trout Gravlax, Oyster Chowder en Croute, Shaved Raw Wagyu Beef. Entrees: Long Island Duck, Braised Australian Lamb Shank, Spice Rubbed Lobster and Monkfish.
No spaghetti and meatballs on this menu.
She was tempted to let Ross order for her, but that could be risky in itself. Coming from Rhode Island, she knew seafood was her best bet.

“I’ll have the Arctic Trout Gravlax to start, and the Spice Rubbed Lobster and Monkfish as an entrée,” she said.

“And I will have the Australian Lamb Shank,” Ross said.

“Very well,” the waiter said and left the room.

Once alone she said, “Tell me about growing up on the best vineyard in Napa Valley.” Was it her imagination or had he tensed at her question?

After a brief delay he answered her, “The vineyard was beautiful and still is. You will see for yourself next weekend.”

That answered nothing.
“That wasn’t my question. What was it like?” He had no problem prying into her personal life so why couldn’t she pry into his?

“It was not what many people imagine. I’m an only child of parents who are absorbed in only what matters to them. Since I chose not to follow either of their wishes for my career, we barely have a reason to speak.” His tone was dry.

It sounded very,
lonely.
“Is that why you chose Boston University?”

He grunted softly, “Good call.”

Smiling, Jill added, “It appears to have worked out for you. Relocating, I mean.”

He nodded. “Better than I expected when I made that decision. Like most eighteen-year-olds, if it was a choice that upset my mother, I did it. My first semester here was a challenge, but I connected with a few good people who, as you are aware, I’m still friends with today.”

“I thought you were all business acquaintances. I didn’t realize you met in college. Have any good stories to share?”

“Believe it or not, I was the rational one.”

Jill shook her head. “I hear it’s always the quiet ones you need to worry about. Does this mean you were the mastermind who just didn’t get caught?”

Arching a brow he said, “Are you an event planner or an investigator?”

Smiling from ear to ear, she said, “I’ll take that as a yes. Care to share any embarrassing stories?”

He leaned closer. “This line of questioning would be much more fun if we were alone.”

Ross Whitman.
Alone
.
Naked?
Is that what he is suggesting here?
That kiss was explosive, but he hasn’t made any move to be closer to me since. Why can’t I read this man? Is he just flirting?
Blushing, she thought she knew what he meant. “Okay then, how about your favorite color, food, book, etc.”

“Color. Never thought about it. Food, any type of seafood. Book, The Three Musketeers. Your turn.”

That wasn’t a book she pictured him reading.
He could have at least picked something like Moby Dick.
She wasn’t about to call him out on it at this time. Instead, she provided her answers the best she could. “I love all colors of the rainbow, hence my hair when we first met.” She laughed softly. “Seafood is always a safe choice with me, but I normally keep it simple, pasta all the way. Favorite book, hmm. I don’t know.”

“Don’t be shy. You can tell me if you read those books. What do you call them? Oh yes, erotica,” Ross teased.

She couldn’t hide her shock.
So what if I do read erotica?
“Little Women. My favorite book was Little Women.”

Laughing boldly, he added, “If you say so.”

There was no doubt he didn’t believe her. That didn’t mean she was about to confess the truth. Her bathtub reads were her own business.
You don’t just ask a girl what her favorite erotica is.

Their food arrived, and they continued their questions throughout the meal. “What about hobbies?”

“I love anything to do with water. So scuba diving and exploring ancient ruins, like Port Royal in Jamaica or Cleopatra’s palace in Egypt, or diving at The Great Barrier Reef. They’re probably what I like most.”

She was glad it wasn’t sports. Jill found him absolutely fascinating. “I haven’t done any of those, but they sound exciting. I like to ski when the weather is cold and swim when it’s hot. I’m all out of questions.”

“I have several.” He winked. Jill cheeks burned again. “Okay. Tell me why New York.”

Now that was a hard one. One she wasn’t exactly sure of herself. She wanted to tell him it was to prove she was capable of living on her own, that she had made something of herself that would make not only Donna, but also her parents, proud. From what he shared of his family, it sounded like he might understand. She wasn’t ready to reveal her lack of education, though; education seemed a big part of who he was, and he might start to second-guess her decisions about the fundraiser. “I was ready for a change and work well with Lizette and Elaine. It seemed like a good move.”
That wasn’t a lie.
“How do you run a wine business from across the country?”

“I don’t.”

A puzzled look came over her. “Then how—?”

He interrupted her. “It is my family’s business; my father currently runs it. I’m not involved in any of the decision-making at this time, nor am I interested in it either.”

“Then what do you do?”

“Build sailboats.”

“No, I mean for a job.”

“I build sailboats.”

I didn’t know the manual labor types were paid so well.

She had done some basic research on him, but it all led back to Whitman Wines.
How was it I missed this crucial piece of information?
Thinking back how his hands felt when they touched her, they were workingman’s hands: rough and callused. She could picture him sanding and smoothing the boat, the hot sun beating down on him. No shirt, his body would glisten with sweat while she lay sunbathing in her bikini, watching him. He would pour a bottle of water over himself before coming to join her on the bow to make sweet love in the daylight sun.
Yummy.
Surely he isn’t interested in me like that.
Clearing her throat trying to cover dirty little thoughts, she said, “I guess you do enjoy all things that have to do with water.” She took a sip from her glass.

“Would you care to join me for a short excursion after the fundraiser?”

Did he invite me to go away with him?
She must have misunderstood. That would be very forward of him since they were not intimate like that. They had been talking for a few months, and had seen each other at several social occasions, but there was no way he would expect her to say yes.
Would he?
He must mean for an afternoon or sunset ride.
Rationalizing it all internally she felt so much better. Smiling she said, “I’d love that. Thanks, Ross.” He wouldn’t go from a night out for dinner to a little afternoon delight, would he? No. It was only her imagination getting away from her. Those things only happened in books.
Like the ones I read.
It was an innocent invite, nothing more. Besides nothing really could happen in broad daylight on an afternoon getaway.
I hope.