Christmas With a Billionaire: Billionaire Under the Mistletoe\Snowed in With Her Boss\A Diamond for Christmas (17 page)

‘I saw him the first year, and the second and now I look for him. There he is—he’s peeking out from behind that wine bottle.’

‘I never thought that anyone would notice him,’ Riley said, still in shock.

‘Hell, yeah, I notice your work. I adore your work, even though I wish it didn’t cost so much or that you had a vague idea of sticking to a budget.’ James blew on his freezing fingers. ‘And that’s why there is no way I’m letting you walk away without a fight.’

Riley deflated like a popped balloon. Of course this was about her work; it had nothing to do with
her
. Stupid, stupid girl for thinking, if only for a moment, that there was a spark of something more there.

‘The temperature has dropped a couple of degrees. Let’s get home,’ James suggested.

‘I need a taxi,’ Riley agreed.

James tightened the scarf around her neck and pulled her woollen cap down over her ears before running an icy finger across her cheek. Riley tried to tell herself that it was the cold that made it hard for her to breathe but knew that it was the tenderness, the gentleness in his eyes. ‘It’s late; you’re cold and probably hungry. Come back to my place, get some food in you and crash there. It’s a five-minute walk versus a trek across town. And who knows how long it will take to get a cab.’

She shouldn’t—she really shouldn’t—but she grabbed on to his words as the best excuse she’d ever heard to spend a little time with him. It had been too long since she’d experienced anything but frustration and craziness with James and being with him like this reminded her of the boy she used to know, the friend she’d adored, so she allowed him to take her hand and lead her back to his home.

* * *

B
ACK
IN
HIS
toasty-warm apartment, Riley whipped off her hat and shrugged out of her heavy coat. James took it and hung it on the coat rack. He reached out and ran his thumb across her cheek, wincing at her icy skin. ‘Let’s get you warm. Something hot to drink?’

‘Yes, please. Coffee with a belt of whisky?’ Riley looked hopeful as she jammed her hands into the pockets of her jeans and followed James to the massive kitchen.

Riley slid onto a kitchen stool and James tried not to notice how her denim jeans showed off her shapely butt. Or how her long-sleeved jade-green T-shirt made her eyes a deeper, darker grey. Or how the cold made her nipples...

Okay, so maybe inviting her back to his apartment in the dead of the night wasn’t the smartest idea he’d had all week. The urge to scoop her up and warm her up in a more basic biological way was shockingly strong.

Get your mind out of the gutter, Moreau.

He turned to face the coffee machine, willing his pants to subside. Damn, he was a basket case. ‘If you can get the whisky bottle from the drinks cabinet that would be great.’

Riley hopped off the stool, retrieved the bottle, handed it over and took her seat again, chin in her hand. ‘Look, about the windows...’

James cocked an eyebrow. ‘Another expense?’

‘Yeah. The—’

James held up a hand to stop her explaining. ‘Ri, it’s past midnight and I’m exhausted. The windows are fantastic and, as you pointed out the other night, the cost is a fraction of other media advertising and, right now, I simply don’t care. Okay?’

‘Sure.’

James took their cups to the counter where she sat and reached for the whisky, cracking the top and slugging in a healthy amount. ‘That being said, I do reserve the right to throw my toys when I see the bill.’

‘Fair enough.’ Riley took the cup he slid over to her, wrapped her hands around it and took an appreciative sip. ‘That’s fantastic, thanks.’

‘Shall we take this to the couch?’

Riley yawned as she took her cup and walked to the lounge area. She placed her cup on the table and took the seat next to the arm. James, inexplicably needing to be close to her, took the middle seat. They sat in companionable silence for a little while, looking out of the massive windows to the night view of Central Park and the bright buildings on either side of it framing the famous park.

‘You hungry?’ James asked, rolling his head against the back of the couch to look at her. Her eyes were shadowed in blue and she looked played out. ‘I’ve been crazy busy so I sent out a mercy call to Mariah and she sent over some homemade meals that I can reheat.’

Interest sparked in those incredible eyes. ‘Any curry?’

And there was another difference between Riley and the women he normally dated. No explanations needed about who was who. She knew that Mariah was his mum’s long-time housekeeper and Jackson was the family’s driver. She knew them and they knew her...adored her. Just like his parents did.

‘Yeah, there’s curry.’

Mariah made the best curry in the world and it was his, and Riley’s, favourite dish. They were the only ones who could eat it as hot as Mariah liked to make it and it had been a frequent topic of argument about who handled the heat better. Back when they still argued. James missed that. Then again, he missed lots of things about Riley.

‘No rice but there’s fresh bread in the bread bin—do you want to help yourself?’

Riley hopped to her feet. ‘Sure. Do you want some?’

‘I ate earlier.’

Ten minutes later, Riley was sitting cross-legged on the couch, food on her lap, dipping her bread into the juice of the curry and making appreciative noises. ‘So good, so good.’

He wished she was making those noises while tasting his body but watching her eat wasn’t a bad consolation prize.

‘For someone so small, you can pack it away,’ James commented, watching her lick a drip of sauce from the corner of her mouth with her tongue. It was the sexiest thing ever...
ever
.

‘Big metabolism. My mum is the same. So is Morgan, actually.’ Riley cleaned her plate with a piece of bread, popped it into her mouth and placed the plate on the coffee table. ‘Oh, God, I feel a million times better. Warm and full.’

Riley rested her head against the back of the couch and James could feel her eyes on his face. He turned his head and met her stare straight on. He realised that her eyes held a hundred shades of grey, from silver to lightning to thundercloud. He remembered that her breasts tasted like the sweet grapes grown at Bon Chance, that her ass was world quality. His sex stirred and then jumped to attention, all ready to rock and roll. The sex between them had been off-the-charts stupendous...

But it was much harder to admit that his attraction to her wasn’t only about sex; her laugh had the power to turn his day around, her smart-aleck comments and the irreverence she displayed towards him kept him grounded, and she had a super-fast mind behind her artsy exterior. Being with her made him feel like the bigger man, a better man.

‘You look exhausted,’ Riley said softly. ‘No, not just tired. You’re stressed and worried...’

He blinked as her words sank in. There were few people who could see past his tough-guy CEO facade and Riley slid right on through. He considered brushing her concern off but instead he told her the truth.

‘Yeah...I’m battling to get investors together for a diamond mine we want to open in Angola. There’s a strike looming at one of our biggest mines back home. Theft at a store in Hong Kong. I have to fire one of my right-hand people in security because he has a drug problem. Grant has gone home because his father isn’t well and I have to deal with someone temporary for the next month or so, which is always a pain. Grant takes care of the small stuff before it becomes big stuff.’

Riley tucked her toes under his thigh and the action was so natural that he wasn’t sure if she was even conscious she’d done it. ‘How can I help?’ she asked.

James frowned at her. ‘You want to help? Me?’

Riley yawned and her eyes drooped. ‘Despite the fact that you can be a constant nagging pain in my...neck, you still are one of my oldest friends. Despite our craziness, I would do anything I could to make the shadows in your eyes go away.’ Her eyes narrowed and he realised that she was very conscious of what she was saying. ‘I’ll help you, not because you are forcing me to or because you have this stupid idea that I should work my notice; I’ll help you because...’

James held his breath, not having a cooking clue what she was about to say. ‘Because?’

Riley bit her lip. ‘Because you have been incredibly good to me as a boss. I realise that. But also because I don’t want to start a new life without us being friends. I don’t want to carry that baggage forward with me, James.’

Generous Riley, he thought. As a child she’d always been the one to share a sandwich, would give up her last sweet, anxious to please and happy to give. It was warming to know that she still had that inside her, that generosity, that warmth.

Riley yawned widely and wiggled down so that her head was resting on the arm of the white leather couch. James leaned across and pushed a strand of red hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. ‘Why don’t you just close your eyes for a sec, Ri?’

‘I should go home.’

‘Not tonight, honey.’

‘I’ll close my eyes for a little while and then I’ll call a taxi.’

‘Yeah, okay,’ James replied, knowing that she would be asleep in a minute and wouldn’t wake up before sunrise. If he could trust himself he’d pick her up and take her back to the spare bedroom but he knew that as soon as he had her in his arms she’d end up in his bed and then he wouldn’t be able to resist waking her up with a couple of strategically placed kisses. No, it was better if he left her exactly where she was. They’d made some progress tonight and if they carried on in this vein then maybe he could get her to talk about why she was leaving so that he could fight fire with fire, so he could
fix
this. Leave her here, his brain insisted—she would be fine here for the night. The apartment was toasty-warm, but he grabbed a spare blanket and put it over her anyway before turning off the lights.

The thought of waking up to her, even if she wasn’t in the same bed, shouldn’t make him as happy as it did. But tonight he was too tired to care. He’d worry about it in the morning.

CHAPTER FOUR

R
ILEY
SNUGGLED
INTO
the cushions of the couch, smelled coffee and shoved her hand out from under the blanket and wiggled her fingers. ‘Gimme.’

She felt James’s fingers on hers, positioning her hand to grip the cup and, still lying on her stomach, she pulled the cup to her lips and took a scalding sip. The heat burned her tongue but she didn’t care. After a couple more sips, she opened her eyes and saw a pair of muscular thighs covered by expensive material, a fine white pinstripe running through the deep grey fabric. Her eyes wandered up, past a rather pleasing bulge, up and over a hard stomach covered, sadly, in her opinion, by a white dress shirt and a solid black tie lay between those wonderful pecs.

‘You shouldn’t get dressed. Ever,’ she muttered, sipping again.

She heard his snort of laughter and when she opened her eyes again he was on his haunches in front of her, clean-shaven and smelling amazing.

‘You awake now, Taylor?’

‘Go away,’ Riley muttered, conscious that she probably had canyon-size creases in her face from the throw pillows.

James brushed her hair away from her face. ‘It’s time to get moving.’

‘What part of “go away” is difficult for you?’ Riley muttered, yanking the blanket over her head.

James pulled it away again. ‘I’m making omelettes. You want one?’

Riley opened one eye. ‘Maybe. Mozzarella and bacon?’

‘Maybe.’ James smiled as he stood up, taking the blanket with him. She was still warm and the couch, though horribly white, was super comfortable...she could just drift off—but James’s hand landing on her butt had her eyes flying open again.

‘I’m up! I’m up!’ she growled at him.

‘You never could wake up gracefully,’ James said, yanking her to her feet.

‘If you want chirpy then go and catch a budgie,’ Riley told him, taking her coffee, her bag, and staggering towards the hallway. She needed six more hours of sleep, a shower and a meal and then she would feel human.

She looked up at the transparent ceiling into the clear blue water of the lap pool directly above it. She could easily imagine watching James’s perfect body cutting through the water...and if he were swimming naked? She felt the hot rush wet in her panties and swallowed.

Well,
hello
, new fantasy...

Well, that was better than a bucket of cold water for jolting her awake.

* * *

S
HE
HAD
A
SHOWER
and found a toothbrush still in its packaging in the bathroom cupboard. Not having spare underwear meant going commando but she was okay with that because the shower had made her feel on her way to human. She couldn’t do anything about the need to sleep some more but food would get her to about sixty per cent human.

She could work with that.

‘Morning again,’ James said as he slid an omelette and a fresh cup of coffee across the kitchen counter in her direction. He smiled at her and Riley felt that familiar whoosh in her stomach. Ah, she could get used to this...waking up to James, been woken up by him.

It would’ve happened by now, she reminded herself.
Your time has passed so don’t think about what-ifs. Just don’t even go there.

Riley grabbed the cup and went straight to the fridge to dump some milk into it. James groaned when she added a teaspoon of sugar and stirred.

‘Dammit, hand-picked beans,’ James growled. ‘Voted best coffee in the world, picked by a family in Costa Rica. It does not need milk and sugar.’

‘You’re a coffee snob.’

‘You’re a coffee peasant,’ James retorted, sliding his omelette onto a plate before taking a stool at the counter. He waved his fork at her plate. ‘Eat.’

They ate in companionable silence until Riley pushed her empty plate away and placed her chin in the palm of her hand. ‘So, about that list...’

‘The one you threw at my head?’ James lifted his cup of black coffee to his lips and raised his sandy brows.

‘Chest. And yes, that list. Make a new one,’ she said.

James frowned. ‘I’m not following you, Riley.’

‘Grant isn’t at work and I understand that he makes your life run smoothly so if there’s anything I can do to help you that doesn’t require typing and spreadsheeting...then I’ll give you a hand.’ Riley held up her hand when she saw that James was about to speak. ‘But then you allow me to leave on Christmas Eve and not at the end of the month—I have a ticket to fly home on the twenty-fifth.’

‘You’re flying on Christmas Day?’ James, like Morgan, was horrified. ‘Why?’

‘Because, unlike you, I don’t have access to a private jet.’

‘I’m flying out on Christmas Eve—why didn’t you ask me for a lift?’

‘Have I ever
asked
for a lift on the MI jet, James? I only
sometimes
accept offers.’ Riley waved the topic away. ‘Anyway, do we have a deal? You get an extra set of hands and I get out of the city a week early?’

James thought for a moment. ‘Yeah, okay.’

Riley slid off the stool, picked up their dirty plates and placed them in the dishwasher. ‘So, I remember the bullet point about a wedding present for Morgan and Noah and I can do your Christmas shopping for you. What else was there?’

‘The Christmas cocktail party.’

Ah, that Christmas cocktail party. Gorgeous women, slick men... She normally spent the evening dodging fast hands and bitchy women. And she always, always found an excuse to leave early, which had never been a problem since none of the Moreaus ever noticed.

‘Do you think you could stay at the party past eight-thirty this time?’ James asked her.

Riley wrinkled her nose. So busted. ‘It’s really not my scene,’ she admitted.

‘It’s not mine either. It’s a tradition that I took over from my mother and half the people invited are her cronies, not mine. I’d prefer to have a smaller, more intimate party with the people I actually like.’

Riley sent him a sharp look. ‘So do that then.’ She waved at the cavernous interior. ‘And do it here—it’s not like you don’t have the space.’

Riley could almost see the wheels turning in his head while he considered the pros and cons. After a minute, he nodded his head decisively. ‘Yeah, let’s do that. I’ll do the invites if you can do everything else, like the catering and the booze. Can you handle that?’

‘It’s not like it’s rocket science.’ Riley shrugged. ‘I just need to place the order for pizzas and beer and we’re set.’

‘Funny girl. It’ll still have to be black tie, upmarket.’

Riley shrugged. ‘Okay. That’s three items on the list. What else? You said something about me looking for my replacement?’

Annoyance flickered across James’s face and Riley realised that, despite their truce, he was still not even remotely accepting her resignation. Then his annoyance disappeared and his lips twitched. ‘With regard to your replacement, I do have a couple of criteria of my own.’

Riley pursed her lips and folded her arms. ‘Pray tell.’

‘Someone who actually has a vague concept of a budget would be nice. Someone who doesn’t run their department like a diva, who takes direction and understands that I am the boss. Smoking-hot would be a
real
bonus.’

‘Let me guess...tall, stacked, blonde.’ Riley snorted her disdain. She rested her arms on the counter and looked at him. ‘Keep dreaming, sunshine. Besides, if you were honest you’d admit that you’ll be bored without me.’

‘I’ll be drinking a lot less antacid,’ James retorted.

Riley held up her hands at the bite in his voice. ‘Okay, let’s get off this subject because we’ll just end up fighting again. I really don’t want to fight with you. I meant what I said about us parting as friends.’

James placed his ankle on his knee and played with the laces on his shoe. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, sexy and very, very deliberate. ‘We’ve been lots of things, Riley, but we’ve never been proper friends. From the time you were nineteen there’s been far too much sexual attraction between us for us to just be
friends
.’

‘Well, we can try.’ Riley licked her top lip. Looking for inspiration for a subject change, she looked out of the floor-to-ceiling windows and drank in the view of Central Park. The clouds were low over the city today and the occasional drop of icy drizzle hit the windowpane. ‘Damn, it looks cold out there.’

‘New York at Christmastime. I’m craving some African sun.’

Riley flashed him a relieved smile. ‘Me too. Ice cream on the beach.’

‘You go pink within the hour.’

‘I do but it’s a nice fantasy,’ Riley agreed as James stood up and stretched. ‘Oh, right...there was one other thing on your list that we haven’t discussed—this apartment.’

James looked around him and shrugged. ‘What’s there to discuss?’

‘It’s white. And you said that you wanted me to decorate it.’

‘It’s minimalistic and I was just trying to wind you up.’ James grabbed some folders off the dining table and shut down his iPad.

‘It looks like you’re living in a snowstorm!’ Riley protested. ‘It’s big but so impersonal. And we should do something about it before the Christmas party or else people are going to think you like living in a morgue.’

James shoved his laptop into his briefcase and looked at his watch. Bored with the subject, he shrugged. ‘So do something about it then.’

‘Okay, but what do you want?’

James looked at her and huffed his frustration. Decorating was not his forte. ‘How do I know? As long as I have a bed, an internet connection and the plasma in my bedroom I’m golden. You think I need colour, put colour. Just don’t go mad.’

‘James, you can’t just tell me to redecorate!’

Why were they still discussing this? ‘That’s what I did with the last decorator.’

‘And that’s how you ended up living in the Arctic!’ Riley tapped her finger against her lips. ‘Why don’t I do you a couple of mood boards?’

‘Yeah, okay.’ If she wanted to...

‘You don’t even know what a mood board is!’ Riley accused him on a low laugh. Okay, so busted.

‘A mood board is a board, obviously, where I give you an idea of what the room would look like—furniture, colours, art. I can do different colours, different styles and see which one grabs you.’

James nodded. He was a guy and he liked the ‘I see, I like’ method of decorating. ‘That would work...’

‘But then you would actually have to look at colour samples and at the mood boards—’ Riley picked up an apple from the fruit bowl and took a bite.

James stepped forward, placed his hands on her shoulders and looked down into her fabulous eyes. Her mouth was unpainted and it took all his concentration to stay on the topic at hand because the urge to kiss her was so damn strong. ‘Riley, I don’t care. Just make it look less morguelike for the party and I’m good with that.’

‘Okay. You want to give me a budget on how much to spend?’ Riley asked, holding his wrist with one hand.

James burst out laughing. ‘You and a budget? You’re kidding, right?’

Riley lifted her nose and his laugh deepened. ‘That’s art—there should be no price on art. I’ll have you know that I am very careful about spending other people’s money.’

He couldn’t argue with that. In the twenty-plus years he’d known her, Riley had never, not once, taken advantage of Morgan, his parents or his wealth. In fact, they frequently had to bully her into accompanying them to their houses in Aspen and the south of France, to flying with them on the corporate jet.

He had a whole bunch of issues around Riley, most of which he didn’t want to analyse too deeply, but her being a gold-digger wasn’t one of them. Since he no longer trusted the concept of love, he might not be able to trust her—or any woman, even himself—with his heart, but he did trust her with his cash.

Riley slapped her hands on her hips and tossed her hair. ‘I can either pay for stuff and you can refund me, except that I suspect that I don’t have as big a credit limit on my card as you do on yours.’

He shook his head. ‘That’s too much like hard work. Just take one of mine.’ He reached for his wallet, yanked out the first card and held it out to Riley. ‘The code is eight, nine, double four. I’ve got to go.’

‘You can’t give me this card!’ Riley protested, her apple half eaten and forgotten in her hand. ‘James, this is one of those fancy cards with no limit. I could buy a friggin’ country with this card!’

James grinned. ‘Since I have mines in most countries, I don’t need the country itself so don’t bother. But buy my sister a kick-ass wedding present with it.’

‘His and hers yachts? His and hers Indian Ocean islands? His and hers super cars?’ Riley called after him as he walked towards the door. ‘James, please give me an idea of how much I can spend—this is crazy.’

James tossed her a grin over his shoulder. ‘I do that every year with the windows...and you’ve never managed to stick to it yet. So I’m not going to waste my breath.’

As he shut the door behind him, James heard the thud of the apple hitting the door roughly where his head had been.

He chuckled quietly. Riley had always had one hell of an arm.

* * *

Riley Taylor: I’ve asked you three times over the past week to look at the mood boards so that I can get to work on your apartment.

James Moreau: Too busy and important. ;-)

Riley Taylor: *Snort* Too uninterested is more like it. I’m running out of time; the Christmas party is next week. Maybe I should just go ahead and do it without your input.

James Moreau: Great idea, do that. Going on a two-day trip to see an operation in Mexico. Don’t go mad with colour.

Riley read the series of instant messages she and James had exchanged a few days ago and shoved her mobile in the back pocket of her jeans. If James didn’t like what she’d done with his place then she had the proof that he’d said that she could go ahead and do it her way.

He was due home any minute and she bit her lip, wondering what he’d think of the changes she’d made. The white couches were gone; she’d replaced them with deep brown leather sofas that suited James’s long frame and no-fuss personality. She’d scattered rich autumn-coloured Persian rugs on the floor and she’d found a stunningly rendered painting of a herd of African cattle which she knew James would love and she’d placed it above the fireplace.