Whatever He Asks (Writer for the Billionaire) (2 page)

He
was
sitting
at
the
far
end
of
the
bar,
away
from
the
old
drunk
guy
—
near
the
door
to
the
kitchen.

My
cheeks
grew
warm.
Had
he
heard
the
conversation?

I
stopped
a
few
feet
from
him,
feeling
awkward
and
exposed
with
my
cleavage
on
display.

Damn
you,
Rick.
I
don't
get
paid
nearly
enough
for
this.

The
business
hottie's
jacket
was
slung
over
the
back
of
the
bar
chair,
and
his
shirt
was
so
white
it
nearly
blinded
me.

Now
I
know
what
a
really
expensive
dress
shirt
looks
like.

“
Hello.
I'm
Magnus
Gray.
”
He
gave
me
a
searing
stare,
his
blue
eyes
like
slow
-
moving
glaciers,
shifting
shades
of
ice
and
sky.
His
accent
said
he
was
local
but
wealthy
and
educated.
Probably
one
of
the
Scots-Irish
who'd
live
in
the
area
for
generations.
But
a
blond
like
he
was
a
rarity.
Scots-German,
I'd
bet
money.

“
Melinda
Louis.
”
I
clenched
the
edge
of
the
bar,
wondering
what
he
wanted
from
me.

“
You're
a
waitress
here?
”
He
played
with
his
beer
bottle
—
an
expensive
import,
of
course.

“
Yes,
among
other
things.
”

“
I
see.
Would
you
like
to
have
a
drink
with
me?
”

“
Huh?
”
I'd
been
staring
at
his
golden
curls
—
waves
really.
One
fell
right
over
his
left
eye.
His
cheekbones
were
straight
out
of
silent
films
and
Hollywood.

“
Would
you
like
to
sit
down
for
a
while?
”
He
smiled,
and
one
dimple
popped
out.

I
thought
I
might
faint,
so
I
gripped
the
bar
harder.
“
I'm
sorry
I
can't
since
I'm
working.
”
I
tried
to
smile,
but
my
cheeks
were
frozen.

Snap
out
of
it.

“
That's
too
bad.
When
do
you
get
off?
”

His
dimple
and
cheekbones
had
me
thinking
all
sorts
of
naughty
things
about
that
question,
and
I
nearly
laughed.
“
I'm
closing
tonight,
so
it
won't
be
for
a
while.
”

“
Perhaps
I
could
stick
around
till
then.
”
I
kept
my
tone
casual.
I
wanted
nothing
more
than
to
do
just
that,
but
the
last
thing
I
wanted
this
man
to
think
was
that
I
was
desperate
or
a
total
floozy.

“
Great.
I
have
a
proposal
for
you.
I'll
talk
to
you
when
you're
done.
”
He
paused.
“
Oh,
I'm
done
with
my
drink.
”

I
stood
there
for
a
long
moment
like
an
idiot.
Then
I
moved
toward
him
and
reached
out
for
the
cold
bottle.
My
skirt
brushed
against
him,
and
I
almost
squealed
when
I
felt
his
warm
hand
on
my
thigh.

I'm
going
to
pass
out.
This
sexy
man
has
a
hand
on
my
leg,
but
for
all
I
know,
he
could
be
a
serial
killer.

“
Till
then.
”
He
ran
his
hand
up
my
leg,
and
our
gazes
locked.
I
had
time
to
register
that
his
eyes
were
the
coldest
blue
I'd
ever
seen.

I
didn't
breathe,
but
my
pussy
clenched
in
response.

Then
I
pivoted
on
my
high
heel
and
walked
back
to
the
kitchen.
It
took
me
a
moment
to
catch
my
breath.
The
heat
of
his
hand
was
still
imprinted
on
my
thigh.

What
the
hell
was
that
about?

I
moved
through
the
rest
of
my
shift
in
a
dream,
totally
unable
to
look
in
his
direction.
I
stayed
in
back
as
much
as
I
dared.

“
What's
with
you?
”
Steve
asked
as
he
soaped
down
some
glasses
in
the
sink
in
back.

“
Nothing.
”

“
You
look...worried.
”

“
I'm
okay.
”
I
flashed
a
smile
in
his
direction.

He
frowned.
“
You
sure?
'Cause
I
got
your
back
if
you
need
it.
”

“
Nah.
I'm
fine.
”

“
All
right.
”
He
shrugged.
“
You
good
to
close
alone?
”

“
Yeah,
great.
”

“
I'm
gonna
jet
then.
The
new
Halo's
out
today
—
well,
yesterday
now.
”
He
grinned.

“
Have
fun.
”
I
waved.

“
I
will.
Call
if
you
need
me.
”
He
raised
an
eyebrow.