Read Kiki's Millionaire Online

Authors: Patricia Green

Kiki's Millionaire

 

KiKi’s Millionaire

 

By

 

Patricia Green

 

 

©2012 by Blushing
Books® and Patricia Green

 

Copyright © 2012 by Blushing Books® and Patricia
Green

 

All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including
photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the publisher.

 

Published by Blushing Books®,

a subsidiary of

ABCD Graphics and Design

977 Seminole Trail #233

Charlottesville, VA 22901

 
The
trademark Blushing Books®

is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

Green, Patricia

Kiki’s Millionaire

eBook ISBN:
978-1-60968-931-5

Cover Design by edhgraphics.blogspot.com

 

This book is intended for
adults only
.
Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only,
intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books'
or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking
of minors.

 

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Patricia Green

 

Patricia Green is a fiction writer specializing in erotic romance. She hopes
to provide the reader with love stories that emphasize fun characters with
quirky personalities. Patricia currently has more than a dozen books for you to
choose from.

She's married and is the mother of twins. When she's not being the angel of
domestic harmony and a semi-crazed creator of fictional friends, she loves to
crochet, read, and watch hockey.

Find out more about Patricia Green and her books at
www.patriciagreenbooks.com
.

 

Don’t miss these other
exciting titles by Patricia Green:

Jackie Draws a Straight

Ace High Flush

The Strong, Silent Type

Liv’s Journey

Chapter 1

 

 

Kiki hit the enter key on her laptop and smiled. The
proposal was done. Sent. And she’d finished it the afternoon it was due rather
than waiting until was already late and working all through the night. That was
a first. She took a little sip of her hot mocha and sat back, waiting as the
wireless connection indicator blinked, sending the file.

The little coffee bar was quiet in the hour before
most people got off work. The baristas were working to get things ready for the
evening commuter traffic, and they worked in a friendly and efficient way with
the one customer who stood at the counter. Most of the tables were empty, but a
lone man sat a few tables away, contemplating a newspaper. He was joined by the
fellow who’d been at the counter and they sat talking amiably.

The file was not sending. Kiki hit the enter key
again, but nothing changed. The little wireless connection thingy just kept
whirling around and around. The file wasn’t nearly big enough to account for
this extended sending time. She hit the enter key again…and again. She stabbed
at it, increasingly concerned and impatient. She lifted the laptop up and gave
it a shake, then put it back down roughly. As she watched, horror stricken, a
blue-screen-of-death appeared, full of coded gobbledygook and error messages.
Her computer had quit working!

“Fuck! Son of a bitch! Damn, damn, damn! You sorry-ass
piece of shit!” She smacked the laptop forcefully. “Work, damn you!” Nothing
happened. “You goddamn mother-”

“Excuse me, Miss.”

She looked up, a snarl and a frown making her face
feel distorted. It was the man who’d been at the counter a few minutes
previous. He was a tall man, wearing a black t-shirt and a good quality black
suit—a little Hollywood, but appealing. He smiled at her, teeth white in
a healthy, tanned face. His dark hair was neatly brushed back in a queue. “What
the fuck do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

His eyebrow arched over a twinkling blue eye. “Yes, I
can see that you’re having some trouble with your computer. Perhaps I can
help?”

“What? Are you with Geek Squad or something?”

“Something like that. My name is Jim Chesterfield.” He
said it like she ought to know him, so she looked at him for a moment,
narrowing her eyes as she thought.

“Jim Chesterfield…James Chesterfield? The James
Chesterfield?”

A slightly embarrassed look washed over his face,
followed by a playful grin. “That’s what my mother calls me. Most people just
call me Jim, though.”

Flustered, she looked down at the blue screen on her
computer then back up to him. James Chesterfield was, perhaps, one of the best
known computer geeks in the U.S. He had a huge software business, providing
alternative operating systems to hundreds of thousands of users worldwide. It
was rumored that he was branching out into hardware in the next few months and
that it would cement his place as an international icon. What the hell was he
doing in a Coffee Cart store? “It stopped working. I was trying to send an
important proposal and it just went dead.”

“Would you mind if I look at it?”

“Well…why the fuck not? Thanks.” She turned the
computer to face him as he sat down at the table, smiling at her genially. He
was a handsome son-of-a-bitch, finely sculpted and broad-shouldered. She’d read
somewhere that he’d been a programming prodigy, but by now he must be around
forty years old. Kiki thought it was an amazing thing for plain ole her to be
sitting with him, actually having him poke around on her cheap laptop. She
blinked and surreptitiously pinched her arm just to make sure she wasn’t
dreaming. No, she was awake. It still seemed surreal. Her best friend, Madhuja,
was not going to believe her.

“Ah, I see what happened.” He pressed a sequence of
keys and the screen went black then showed an icon in the middle as the
operating system engaged again. “You said you were sending a file?”

“Yeah. It was a proposal I was sending to my boss. He
has to present it to the board in the morning and I was supposed to get it to
him by close-of-business today. With this fuckin’ broken computer, I’m
screwed.”

“You didn’t leave yourself much time.” His blue
eyes—really remarkable with his dark hair—were focused on the
computer. Kiki wondered what it would feel like to have him focus that
attention on her. That thought got squashed vigorously. He is probably married
to a super-model or something.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, she responded,
“Well, actually, I’m usually late on these things. This is what I get for
congratulating myself on being early for once.”

He grinned, looking over at her, and she got flustered
again. “I think we can recover your file. Did you back it up?”

Kiki shook her head, feeling fairly stupid. Maddie had
told her to get a USB key and keep backups of her files, but she’d been
hesitant to spend the $30 on something she figured she’d lose anyway.

“Too bad. You should always back up things you can’t
afford to lose.” Jim was focused on the computer once more. “This computer is a
little outdated.”

She snorted, perversely realized it was unladylike,
and tried to cover it with a cough. “Yeah, but it’s what I’ve got.”

He nodded, looked over at her for a little while, his
eyes roving over her face. “Do you want me to recover your data?”

“Can you?”

“Yes. For a price.”

Well, that was really the topper. She couldn’t afford
another cup of mocha, let alone a fee for saving her proposal. She was doomed.
“You’re one of the richest fucking guys in the country, and you want to bill
me? I can’t pay you!”

“I think you can.” His smile was open, easy.

She shook her head, hair tickling her cheeks. “Oh
please. I’ve got maybe five bucks to my name.”

“Are you married?”

Ah, now she could see where the conversation was
heading. She would have thought he could get his kicks with someone more lofty.
She bristled. “No, but let’s not go there. I don’t fuck for favors.”

“You really need to clean up your language, young
lady.”

Kiki frowned. “Who the fuck are you to tell me what to
do?”

Shaking his dark head, he turned the
still-malfunctioning computer toward her and sat back in his chair. “You know
what you need?”

“I’ll bet you think you know.”

He nodded. “You need a good spanking.”

She snorted, this time not even trying to cover it up.
“Good luck with that, Mister James Chesterfield.”

Grinning, his confidence didn’t slip a hair. “What’s
your name?”

Kiki thought about the safety of telling him for a
moment. He wouldn’t be a stalker; he was too prominent for that. “Kiki
Mackenzie.”

 
“Well,
Miss Kiki Mackenzie,” he said. “I’ll recover your file if you’ll agree to go
out with me three times.”

The file was important. Her boss, Ted Keeting, had
made it very clear that one more late project and she was out the door. She
only had an hour—no, forty-five minutes—to get it where it needed
to go. “Three times?”

Nodding, he confirmed, “Yes, three.”

“No sex?”

“Not unless you want it. I’m not in the habit of
forcing women.”

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