Billionaires Dollar Series

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll keep them on. Who knew Nicholas Park was a prude?” And then, as calmly as if she were fully dressed, she starts gathering up the cards.

I stare at her for longer than I should, want and anger chasing one another through my veins. And despite it all, a begrudging respect. She had seen me looking yesterday and all but confirmed my attraction today.

“You won, then.” She shuffles them one last time before heading to the dresser to put the cards back. As she bends over, I’m greeted with one of the best views of my life.

Yeah, I need to get out of here. Right now.

“At least there’s that,” I say, edging backwards. “Good night, Blair.”

If she says it back, it’s not something I hear. I’m already halfway down the hallway to my bedroom, my hand itching to wrap itself around the steel ache she’d inspired.

Blair Porter just got a whole new level of dangerous.NôvelDrama.Org: owner of this content.

The next day is a very delicious kind of torture. Forced to meet her gaze at breakfast, knowing how her breasts look beneath her soft sweater. Seeing her long legs in ski pants, knowing how soft her thighs appear. Blair might have confirmed something for herself, but she had ignited the desire in me that I’d managed to keep at bay for years.

It’s made worse when Cole comments on it. “You all right, man? You’ve been quiet all morning.”

I hand him the gear we’ll need for the glacier tour and refuse to look in Blair’s direction, to see the humor I suspect is in her eyes at the question. “I’m fine.”

Cole drops it, knowing when not to push, and sits beside me in the car. A friend when I’ve had none, Cole is better than I deserve. The episode last night made that especially clear-what would he say if he knew I’d let his sister undress in front of me?

I banish the thought, just like I have with so many others, focusing on the tour instead. The magnificent landscapes of frozen ice are enough to make my thoughts seem insignificant in comparison.

Blair seems to think the same thing. In the ice cave, she sidles up to me, her cheeks flushed by the biting cold. “Look,” she says, pointing. “Is that an ice waterfall?”

“Looks like it.” A forty-foot drop of sheer blue ice, diving straight into the glacier.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” The joy in her gold-brown eyes isn’t faked, nor is the sincerity of her smile. She’s radiant.

“Yes,” I say quietly. “It is.” And just as painfully out of my reach as it’s always been, and a game of strip poker had done nothing to change that.

It had only confirmed it.

Leaves that have long since fallen are crusty with frost under my boots as I walk down the city street. The season is changing, and it’s changing fast, bringing with it the same nip in the air that we had up in Whistler the past weekend. A few of the window display I pass have already begun hanging their Christmas decorations.

I tuck my scarf in more tightly around my neck and try not to dwell on the memory. Whatever happened, happened. The only thing I can do now is to be professional-to follow to the letter the agreement we’d made. Civility and profit.

Besides, what had my strip poker escapade changed, really? Nothing-except that I know for a fact Nick is attracted to me. It felt like a victory at the time, to see that he wasn’t as aloof as he’d always seemed. After nearly a decade of admiring him from afar, the realization had been overwhelming.

But in the days since, it’s become a hollow victory. So he’s a man who responds to a half-naked woman. How rare.

It doesn’t matter if he’s attracted to me-he made it clear he’s not going to act on it-and he still doesn’t like me. The only person he ever smiles at or shares a laugh with is my brother.

I push open the door to the innocuous brick building that houses his capital venture firm. No sign, no valet, no lobby. It’s exactly the kind of no-bullshit person he’s always been. I’m not a man who plays games, Blair.

Gina greets me by the door. Her usually calm composure seems frayed, her eyes showing relief when I show up. When has that ever been the case?

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes and no,” she says. “I can’t accompany Mr. Park to the warehouse visit today. I’ve just informed him about it as well.”

I put my bag down on the nearby desk. “Why not? What’s wrong?”

“Family emergency. Nothing bad,” she adds, seeing my gaze. “But frustrating. I have to take care of it. It’s bad timing, that’s all.”

“Whatever you have to do,” I say. “I can reschedule the visit for you, if you’d like.”

“No, no rescheduling. There’s not enough time as there is, and we need to implement the changes for the store. Can you go in my stead?”

My world spins, but only for a moment. Gina is entrusting me with this. “Absolutely. If you have the time, give me a run-down of what you’d planned to do today, and I’ll take it from there.”

Relief shines in her otherwise professional-to-a-fault expression. She nods, her bobbed hair dipping with the movement. “Let’s begin, then. I’ve already informed Mr. Park that you’ll take my place today.”

I ignore the knotting of nerves in my stomach. “Thank you. These are the binders you prepared?”

“Yes, they have your suggestions for logo designs and store layouts in them. Now… this is the itinerary I’d drawn up.” She pauses, looking over at me appraisingly. “I know you two are family friends. But when he’s at work like this, he doesn’t want to waste time. Briefing him on the planned changes should be efficient and focused.”

I nod. Her tone steadies me. There are guidelines to this. Profit and civility. Twenty minutes later, I’m knocking on the door to Nick’s office, my bag slung over my shoulder and the binders tucked under my arm.

He opens the door himself. Towering before me, his dark eyes are guarded. “Good. You’re finished. Let’s go.”

He strides past me through the office and I hurry to catch up, cursing myself for choosing to wear booties with heels. I’d dressed for a quiet day at the office, not a field trip.

Nick holds the front door open for me and we walk side by side to the parking garage next door. I try to ignore the thrill that his nearness brings, that it always brings, especially when he’s suit-clad like this.

The fact that we haven’t spoken a word alone to one another since the poker game hasn’t helped.

We’ve seen each other half-naked.

That fact hangs in the air, unacknowledged and undiscussed, a steady presence. It’s there when he unlocks his Land Rover without another glance at me. It hovers between us as I slide into the passenger seat.

He pulls out into the central Seattle traffic. I’ve never seen him drive, and despite the odd mood between us, my eyes stray to his hands on the wheel. The backs of his hands are wide. Knuckles broad. Tan, slightly rough skin.

His displeasure is heavy. That makes two of us, I think. There would have been no awkwardness with Gina here. How are we to survive the one-hour drive?

I break the quiet fifteen minutes in. He might be perfectly content with pressured silence, but I’m not.

“You don’t have a driver,” I note. My brother had had one for a long time, treasuring the time it saved him-most of his texts and calls were handled from the back of a car.

“Astute observation,” Nick says. His tone is just the way he likes it: dismissive and mean, all rolled into one.

I glance out the window. “I was just comparing it to Cole.”

He’s quiet for a beat. “I’m not dependent on anyone,” he says. “Cole is right about it being a time-saver. But you have to trust a driver.”

And I don’t trust anyone. He doesn’t say the words, but my mind speaks them for him regardless.

“You trust a pilot to fly a plane,” I point out. “You trusted the pilot up in Whistler on the helicopter ride.”