Alex Reid (Rich & Single #1) (3 page)

He just smiled, and took another sip of his wine.

It was, over all, a pleasant meal. Alex liked Dahlia well enough, though once or twice he thought he saw her slip again, saw a journalist’s interest rather than a date’s in her wide hazel eyes. He hadn’t lied about his attraction to her, but it was too much of a risk to take. He had known when he began this that he would have to deal with hangers-on and gawkers, women who wanted him for his money and women who wanted him for his power. He hadn’t specifically anticipated women who would date him in order to spread his life story across page six, but maybe he should have. Still, he smiled at her, nodded along to her stories. She smiled back at him, and laughed at his jokes, and he wondered if the flush he had liked was natural or something she had trained herself into. At the end of the night, he didn’t take her home.

He had considered it, of course. Who wouldn’t? Dahlia Lloyd, whatever else she may be, was a beautiful woman, and the dress she was wearing certainly did her some favors, but he wasn’t going to take a woman he wouldn’t risk sharing his personal history with to bed. Not when it might mean waking up in two days to find an exposé of his bedroom style headlining some gossip rag. Miss Lloyd might be of a much higher caliber than those sorts of magazines, but that didn’t mean that she would be entirely above making a bit of money off them if she couldn’t catch the scoop she so obviously wanted to write herself.

Alex dropped her off at her apartment, ignoring the look that obviously hinted at wanting a goodbye kiss—and more than a kiss—and went back to his car, and then drove to his own large house on the edge of the business district. In the quiet sanctuary of his bedroom, he stripped out of the suit he’d been wearing and carefully hung up the jacket and pants, tossing the shirt he’d been wearing all day in the hamper. He liked his things neat.

Lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling in the dark, he almost wished he’d given into temptation and invited Dahlia home with him after all. What did it matter if she told the tabloids they’d fucked? It was hardly news that he occasionally took a woman home with him. Except that it
was
, and that was the problem. He wouldn’t have minded a warm body next to his own, but that was the price of the life he led.

As he drifted off to sleep, Alex reminded himself that he needed to call Mark. The missed call notices were piling up, and he couldn’t ignore his brother forever. Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow, he would bite the bullet and make the call.

Chapter 2

Alex woke to the first tentative rays of summer sunlight slipping through the blinds. A moment later, the shrill ring of his alarm had him bounding from the bed to turn it off. He stood, stretching both arms upward and arching backward until he heard something pop, and then he shook the weight of sleep from his hands and went to dress. There wasn’t time for a leisurely breakfast; there never was. He grabbed a coffee on his way in to the office.

An hour and a half later, he was beginning to wish he had just stayed in bed.

It was one of those days where everything that could go wrong seemed to be falling utterly to pieces. Paperwork had been misfiled, forms weren’t coming in on time, and someone had forgotten to call the head advisor for the Richards family and confirm a meeting. It was one of those not-so-rare days where Alex wished he had two hundred of himself to run the business with, or at least a clone he could use to keep track of all the things he needed done, because no one else seemed to be able to do it competently. Why was it so utterly impossible to find decent people who could do whatever it was they were supposed to be doing without being coddled and coaxed through it?

That was a sentiment, he would admit to himself when he wasn’t so busy, that wasn’t entirely fair to his employees. They were good at their jobs; they just weren’t as good as he was. Very few people were. It was why, despite urging from the few friends he actually kept in some regular contact with, he hadn’t hired a personal assistant yet. He just didn’t trust one to properly keep track of his schedule.

“Ms. Campbell,” he called out to the front. “I need you to double check that last email with the Richards’ firm. Make sure that everything has gone through.”

He hit the button to bring the phone conversation back online.

“Yes, Mr. Barret. We’ve sent you the information. The face-to-face meeting will be next Monday. Everything should be in order now.”

The man on the other end of the phone line didn’t exactly sound satisfied, but he eventually let it go and finally hung up. Alex dropped his own phone carelessly on the desk top and rubbed slow circles against his temples with two fingers. What a fiasco. Something was really going to have to be done about the new hire down in client relations. Things like this hadn’t seemed to happen nearly so often before he signed on. Maybe that earlier thought about inept employees wasn’t entirely unfair to every member of his work force.

By lunch time, at least, things seemed to have cleared themselves up for the most part. People retreated to offices to nurse the wounds of tongue-lashings and check and double check to make sure that any part they’d had in the mix-ups wasn’t a part they would have again. Alex, unlike the rest of them, didn’t have any such luxury. He had a meeting. That meant dragging himself from the quiet of his office and the comfort of his chair to drive downtown through the lunch hour traffic in order to seal a deal with a new client. At least there would be food.

After lunch, there was more paperwork. There were more phone calls to be made, and more meetings to attend. The utter disasters of the morning did not, at least, repeat themselves, but Alex still found himself more frustrated than was probably reasonable to be at every snag. Maybe what he needed was a vacation.

By the time he made it home, Alex was hardly in the mood to speak to his brother, let alone voluntarily call him. He dropped into a chair in his kitchen with a sigh, then pulled himself out of it again to go see what had been left in the fridge for him. His cook was a patient man, but not endlessly so. On days that Alex didn’t come in until after seven, he often found his dinner waiting to be reheated. Tonight, dinner turned out to be a roast with carrots and potatoes, and while Alex wouldn’t have admitted to liking such simple food in most of the company he kept during the day, he was inordinately grateful for the familiar, comfortable selection. He popped it in the microwave to warm, and sat down again with his dish. After dinner, he would have to follow through on that plan to call Mark, but until then he was going to enjoy his food.

He did enjoy it; so much so that he was almost in a good mood when he finished. At least until he looked down at the phone again and remembered what he was doing. He sighed and picked it up, scrolling through the recent calls to find the missed one from his brother and prompt the phone to call back.

It rang, twice. Then a third time.

“Alex. How much time does it take to answer your phone?”

A smile tugged at Alex’s mouth, but he didn’t let it form. It fell away again. “More time than I’ve had the last few days, Mark,” he said, and there was nothing friendly in the words.

“You know, you might be a half decent guy if you weren’t such an asshole. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you about something important.”

“And what might that be?”

There was a moment’s silence on the other end of the line, like Mark was gathering himself to say it. Alex’s stomach turned over. What if the news was bad? What if something had happened to their father and he’d been ignoring his brother’s calls? But if that was the case, surely Mark would have found some other way to get hold of him. He knew the number for Reid Enterprises, even if he never used it. His tone, Alex decided after a moment’s reflection, didn’t give the impression that anything terrible had happened. That didn’t mean Mark’s news wasn’t something to worry about, but it wasn’t likely anyone was dead. Alex took a breath.

“I’m getting married.”

So much for not being something bad.

“You’re getting married?
You
?”

“What, like I’m some special non-marriageable exception to the basic rules of society?”

That wasn’t exactly the way Alex would phrase his thoughts on the matter, but he’d be a whole lot more inclined to believe this marriage was a good idea if he’d heard something about it before this exact moment. Last- minute wedlock almost never worked out well.

“I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.”

“Well…” The sheepish edge to his brother’s smile was audible. “It’s kind of a whirlwind thing. We haven’t actually been dating that long. But you might know that if you bothered to pick up your phone or talk to your family once in a while.”

Of course they hadn’t.

“Oh, because of course
I’m
the black sheep of the family.”

“Oh shut up, Alex. You’re not a black sheep. You run a billion-dollar investment firm, for fuck’s sake.”

“I’m well aware of that fact.”

His brother sighed. “The point, Alex, is that I’m getting married Saturday, and I’d like you to be there.”

“You want the CEO of a company that is projected to bring in more than two billion dollars of revenue this year to rearrange his entire schedule in the next two days?” Alex asked flatly.

“I want my brother to be at my wedding,” Mark snapped. “I tried to call you three days ago, but you haven’t been picking up your phone. And I know you saw my calls, Alex. If you choose to ignore me, don’t get mad when you don’t have enough warning.”

A week was not even close to enough warning. Alex considered whether or not he should point that out to his brother. He sighed, and wondered if he still had any Excedrin in the nightstand. “No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I mean you expected the CEO of a billion-dollar investment firm to change his schedule in a week to suit your whim, and it’s not going to happen. I have to be away on business this weekend. Good luck with your marriage, Mark. I’ll send a wedding gift.” He hung up before his brother could protest any further. The phone rang almost immediately. Alex flicked the switch on the side to silence it and went to take a shower.

Chapter 3

Dinner meetings, Alex reflected on Friday night as he pulled his car into the lot of the third trendy bistro he’d eaten at in the last week, had been inordinately popular lately. He turned the key in the ignition and unfolded himself from the seat of the vehicle to stand and shut the door behind himself. A quick tug or two at the hem straightened the line of his suit jacket. He walked into the restaurant.

Inside, there was a golden glow of lamps and a murmur of subdued conversation; he wasn’t the only one conducting business here today. It was one of the reasons he liked places like this – no loud music piping through the speakers, no shouting over a ruckus.

He had cut the margin close, this meeting scheduled almost directly on the heels of another, but he was still early enough that he had beaten the client. The hostess took him to his table and he sat down to wait, flicking through emails on his phone until a glance up showed the client headed his way. He slid the device back into his pocket, rising to greet the man with a handshake.

The meeting went smoothly. Most meetings Alex was involved in did. He’d been told he had a talent for negotiation. It was less talent than it was practice and impeccable self-control, though he did have the advantage of good looks and a voice people trusted, but he let them think what they liked.

At the end of the evening, when their plates had been taken away by the waiter and the terms were set, Alex rose and shook the man’s hand, smiling across the table at him.

“We’re glad to have your business, Mr. Larson.”

“Glad to give it,” the client answered. “You take care, Mr. Reid.”

“And you.”

He sat back down as the man left, pulling his phone out of his pocket again to check it for alerts before he went out to the car. The quiet sound of a chair sliding across the floor too close to be anywhere but at his own table made him lift his head.

A woman had perched on the edge of the chair formerly occupied by Mr. Larson. In one manicured hand she held a half-finished cocktail made with some kind of deep red liquor that matched the color of her fingernails. He lifted his gaze further and met a pair of eyes almost as blue as his own, set in a pretty, freckled face framed by a fall of auburn hair. The body that came with them wasn’t anything to scoff over either—lushly curved and poured into a close-fitting black dress that left the smooth curves of her shoulders bare. It seemed the evening had just gotten a whole lot more interesting.

“A bit bold, don’t you think?” he pointed out as he tucked his phone away once more.

She smiled. “I’ve always found that bold worked for me.” She offered the hand that wasn’t holding the drink. “Laura Underwood.”

Alex took it in his own, feeling the smooth warmth of her skin. Her grip was surprisingly firm. “Alex Reid.”

“Well, Alex Reid, how would you like to buy me a drink?”

“It looks to me like you already have one,” he answered.

Laura raised an eyebrow at him. “And if we sit here long enough that I no longer have one?”

“Then,” Alex conceded, “I will buy you one. On the condition that you give me your number.”

Her smile widened. “You see?” she asked. “Being bold works.”

Alex had to admit that it did.

*  *

An hour later, walking out of the restaurant with Laura on his arm, her auburn head resting against his shoulder, Alex found himself admitting again that her strategy had been a good one. But it wasn’t really that much of a surprise. In business, it was taking risks that took you places. In life, if you never stepped out of the lines you never learned just how far you could go.

“So, Miss Underwood,” he said as they reached the edge of the sidewalk that ran along the front of the building. “I would like to propose another deal.”

She tipped her head back to look up at him, her mouth flirting with the idea of a smile. “Is that so, Mr. Reid? And what might that deal be?”

Alex turned to face her. “The deal is, you leave your car here and come home with me and in the morning I’ll bring you to pick it up.”

The smile that had been starting to curl the corners of her lips upward appeared suddenly. “That’s quite an offer.”

“Well, I am a businessman. I know how to make a good deal.”

She laughed, and held out a hand for him to shake again, sealing the contract. Alex took her to the car and held the door open for her to slide in. “If you turn out to be an axe murderer,” she said as he got into his own seat, “I’m really screwed.”

It was Alex’s turn to laugh. “I promise,” he said, “that I’m not and have never been an axe murderer. It’s really bad for business if your clients start showing up dead.”

“Depends on the business. But in your case, yes. I think it’s best if your clients stay alive.” She ran a hand along the interior of the car, her fingertips tracing the smooth leather that covered her seat. “Speaking of business, it must be good,” she said, glancing sideways at him.

They hadn’t talked about his money. Alex didn’t bring it up with women most of the time.

“Very good,” he said, not sharply but with no interest in continuing the conversation. She would get to see just how good business was when they arrived at the house.

She was still looking at him.

“Just what exactly is it you do, Alex?”

“I’m the CEO of an investment firm.”

There was no point in lying, after all; he just wasn’t going to volunteer information.

“You’re young for that,” she pointed out.

“I’m good at what I do, and I don’t waste time.”

“No,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “You certainly don’t.”

“And you?” he asked, because their small talk in the restaurant hadn’t included her occupation either and he would rather talk about her than himself. “What do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer,” she said. “Junior partner at Hardy and Underwood.”

“Impressive.”

“Not as impressive as you might think, unfortunately. It’s my father’s firm. Which you probably could have guessed from the name. So there’s a bit of nepotism going on. But I do actually work, which is more than can be said for some.”

There was a little bit of uncertainty there. Alex could feel it. “Just because you work in the family business doesn’t mean you aren’t talented,” he said. “Or that you wouldn’t have the job if you weren’t family.”

At least that was one concern down. If she was from a family of lawyers she was probably well enough off herself that she wasn’t going to be desperately chasing after Alex’s money. He’d had a few of those. It was only to be expected, and most of the time he didn’t let it get to him, but he preferred women who didn’t want him for his bank account.

“So what about you? Family business?”

“My own business,” Alex said.

“Ah,” she laughed. “So you’re the American Dream boy, pulling himself up by his bootstraps.”

Alex laughed, too, surprised by how little her gentle mockery bothered him. Or, he thought, glancing over at the way her waist curved into her hip, not so surprised after all. He turned his gaze back to the road. “Something like that.”

“Well, lucky you,” she said. “No greedy family members all competing to see who can be Grandma’s favorite and get the biggest portion of her will.”

“Is that a serious problem in your family?”

She laughed. “Not so much a problem as just a constant state of affairs. But then, we all have our issues. My family and I get along well enough. It’s the cousins you have to watch out for. What is that they say... ‘Every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way?’ Or something like that.”

Alex turned onto the road that would take them to the house, and she fell silent for a moment, watching the properties grow larger as they continued on. He didn’t say anything about unhappy families; she didn’t need to hear the story of his and just how unhappy it was. At least the members of her family were still speaking to each other, or so he assumed from what she’d said.

“So not just CEO, then. CEO of a successful investment firm,” she said after a minute.

“Did you expect anything less?”

“From you? Not at all. You don’t seem like the type to let anything you run be less than its best.”

“Then you understand me.” He pulled into the garage, and stopped the car. Then he got out and went around to open her door for her. Laura laid a hand in his and stepped out of the car.

“You know, every time I think I’ve guessed who you are, you surprise me. You’re definitely more loaded than I thought.” She laughed.

“Is that meant to be a compliment?”

“It’s possible that it could be.” She grinned at him, leaning into his side as they walked up toward the door. Her body was warm. “I would take it as one, if I were you.”

He paused to unlock the door and then stepped back to let her walk in first. She moved into the kitchen, her heels clicking a little too loudly against the floor.

“A beautiful house.”

“Yes,” Alex said, closing the door and stepping up close enough behind her that he was sure she could feel his body heat. “I’m fairly fond of it.”

Laura turned, and suddenly they were looking into each other’s eyes from only a few inches away. One of her hands settled on his chest, then slid slowly upward to curl around his shoulder. He laid a hand on the curve of her hip and drew her in closer.

“So,” she said. “Mr. ‘I don’t waste time.’ I think time’s a wasting. Maybe you should get down to business before business decides it doesn’t want to wait anymore.”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re kind of pushy?” Alex asked.

“Oh. Everyone. Runs in the family.” She reached up to slide the first button on his jacket through the buttonhole. “It’s why we’re all lawyers.”

Alex set his free hand on her other hip, and then gently but firmly pushed her back. “If you’re so eager for it,” he said, taking a step back of his own, “strip.”

For the first time, her composure faltered, color stealing into her cheeks. Then she grinned at him. “I guess I should have known this is how it would go,” she said, reaching around behind herself with one arm to slide the zipper of her dress down. “You CEO types are so predictable. Always insisting on being in control.”

“Predictable?” Alex echoed. He gave her a narrow-eyed look. “You’re going to get it for that later.”

“Promises, promises.”

She turned her back to him, letting the dress slide down and off her shoulders to crumple into a puddle on the floor. Underneath, she was wearing black lace, and Alex swallowed past a suddenly tight throat, the blood in his body rushing south.

Laura unfastened the catch of her bra and spun slowly to face him, tossing the undergarment aside to join the dress. The tap of her heels on the floor as she walked back toward him was deliberately slow. Teasing. As soon as she was within arm’s reach, Alex caught her by the hips and pulled her in close against him, letting her feel how hard he was. She made a pleased little sound in the back of her throat, arching against his chest and sliding her arms around him.

He lowered his head, brushing kisses against the curve of her throat and sliding his hands down to explore the curves of her buttocks, pressing a knee between her thighs. She writhed against him.

“Tell me how it feels,” he said, nipping at the place where her shoulder met her neck. “All that bare skin against my clothes.”

“Would feel better with you out of them,” she answered, and he could hear the grin even though he couldn’t see it.

“Undress me, then.”

She pulled back enough to unbutton his jacket, her slender hands sliding it from his shoulders.

“Don’t throw that on the floor.”

Laura laughed but she laid the jacket on the counter, and made quick work of his shirt. When it fell open to reveal the muscles of his stomach and chest, she all but purred. Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips.

“Damn, you’re hot.” She traced the ripple of his abdominals with her fingers, then raked her nails over them just hard enough to leave a faint sting behind. “I really hit the jackpot tonight.”

“If you don’t get moving, you’re not going to hit anything.”

She laughed. “Having a hard time, babe?”

He was, in fact, having a very hard time. Alex caught her around the hips again, this time to lift her onto the counter while she laughed breathlessly. MacBane was going to be less than happy when he found out they’d had sex in the kitchen, but he would get over it. Alex wasn’t waiting. He had a hot, willing woman right here.

Her hands worked at the catch of his pants, and he yanked her panties down, pulling them off over the heels she still wore. She whimpered when his fingers traced her slit and found her slick and wet. He pressed the tip of one against her clit and she bucked into his hand. The task of stripping him out of his pants suddenly became a far more urgent one if the way she shoved them down his hips was anything to go by.

Alex grinned. “Good. Now, hands on the counter.” He toed off his shoes so he could let the clothes fall and kick them to the side.

Laura pressed the palms of her hands to the granite, arching her spine, and spread her legs wide.