The Billionaire's Assistant (Contemporary BWWM Interracial Romance) (The Billionaire's Proposition Book 1) (6 page)

S
hit
. That was close.

Kevin silently scolded himself for his transgression, knowing he had probably freaked Naomi out.

But he couldn’t help it—his eyes hadn’t had enough of her when their dinner ended, he wasn’t ready to let her go. He felt a pull to her he couldn’t resist.

He told himself to keep moving once their footsteps reached the guest bedroom door, but his legs wouldn’t listen; desire and longing ruled his body.

Then, he made sure to, at the very least, stand behind the threshold while he got his last glimpse of her, but he knew there was no way he didn’t intimidate the poor girl—his large figure filling the frame of her bedroom doorway.

Hopefully, she hadn’t gotten too spooked.

Still, he knew he had at least one thing going for him: Naomi was heavily attracted to him, no matter how much she was obviously trying to fight it.

He’d seen the way her eyes ravished his body, getting stuck on his chest or his muscular forearms. He’d seen those warm brown eyes gazing at his lips as if all she wanted to do was take them between hers, and his dick had responded with an interested twitch.

He’d seen the rapid rising and falling of her chest as her breath quickened, her mind and body betraying her general modesty.

God, it took even more control in those moments.

He felt himself swelling in his pants at the increasing signs of her desire, and he had to find ways to bring himself back to neutral at their dinner because despite all of the indications of her attraction—how clearly she wanted him—for whatever reason, she wasn’t ready to go in that direction, and there was no way he was going to push her.

I need to do something about this,
he thought as he made his way up the stairs to his own bedroom.
I need to put the brakes on whatever is taking over me, fast.

Says who
? his father would say, but he wasn’t like his father; he didn’t gorge himself on things just because they were there.

But Naomi wasn’t just there—she radiated a heady combination of vulnerability and strength from her unassumingly beautiful face, her curvy, feminine body, her stiff yet sensual body language.

He’d met plenty of strong women before, and women who pretended to be strong. He’d met lots of fragile, vulnerable women too—both those who gave in to their frailty and those who fought hard against it.

He’d met women who had the same things going on as Naomi, yet none of them had ever made him feel the way he felt toward her.

She set off a primal response in him and almost made him feel like some basic caveman. All he wanted to do was was protect her, help her, hold her in his arms and soothe her. He wanted to provide for her, make her feel comfortable and safe.

What the hell was wrong with him? He shouldn’t be feeling this way!

He had only meant to help out a damsel in distress, and it wasn’t even his first time doing it.

So why her? Why now?

How was it that this time, his desire to help went far beyond just satisfying the girl’s most immediate, pressing need? How was it he wanted to help Naomi with things she hadn’t even presented as problems? How was he supposed to work with her and pretend he also didn’t find her distractingly attractive?

Maybe he just needed to get laid, in general. How long had it been since the last time?

He’d been so busy with work lately, he’d lost track.

Perhaps that’s all this really was—a biological response to a need that could easily be filled by available pickings.

If he were a simpler man, he might have accepted linking his physical and sexual attraction to Naomi to everything else he was feeling, but he knew far better than that—attraction didn’t always come with this burning need to protect; in fact, it rarely did.

It was why he had to eventually break things off in his last long-term relationship—no matter how well-matched he and his ex were on paper, he couldn’t care for her the way she needed; he never softened toward her in the way she required him to.

He didn’t care about her day when she yapped on about it, he didn’t notice the things she wanted him to notice—new blond highlights and wardrobe changes—and he didn’t respond the way she wanted when she tried to make him jealous once.

The only time he reacted in a protective way was when someone tried to snatch her purse.

He had stopped the guy with a well-timed extended foot and sent him sprawling, then punched the guy’s lights out.

She had purred for him after, letting herself gaze at him with openly loving eyes, concluding that he cared about her after all, but all he could think was,
It could have been anybody.
And it was true—had she been a stranger, he would have done the same.

He was pretty good at recognizing when he was being manipulated by a crafty member of the opposite sex, but anytime he came across a true damsel in distress, he was ready to help—but only in that moment.

Then Naomi showed up and suddenly, he was struck by the need to give her everything he possibly could, far beyond a moment.

Knowing he had such an overwhelming reaction to her, he knew it was a mistake bringing her into his home, then inviting her to dinner with him, but he wanted to be with her so much that he let his own needs rule, and now he was deeper in because there was no way he’d push her away now.

He usually tried to respect the boundaries of the workplace—especially when dealing with someone working so closely with him and in such a subordinate position because it was one thing to have a fling with someone who was almost an equal—an associate met at a board of trustees meeting or some heiress—it was quite another to screw with a vulnerable employee.

He’d had young, attractive personal assistants before, and he had made the mistake of indulging in a seduction once, then he had to let the girl go with a hefty severance package.

He knew his effect on women and always figured it was just a matter of time before he got propositioned.

Even his latest assistant, now on a two-week vacation while he indulged in a fairly leisurely work-from-home period was on her way out.

Recently, he noticed something in the twenty-two-year-old’s bright blue eyes that put him on guard.

He saw her as a child, and he was happy to help her in her quest to finish paying for college, but he knew there was no way he was going to keep working with her. She was great at her job, but now that she was giving him those eyes, and now that he had Naomi, it was time to let her go.

He knew he shouldn’t keep Naomi, either.

Even if he hadn’t been her boss, he was not in the habit of taking advantage of vulnerable women.

He had so many who melted for him willingly, how could he? He got daily offerings of carnal pleasure, and he could afford to be as picky as he wanted—and he was. Not just any pretty young thing or sexy mature thing could worm herself into his bed.

In any case, there was never a question of whether or not a woman wanted it—no hesitation.

Once in a while, a woman proposed a challenge he wanted to take on, but not this girl—Naomi was in far too powerless a position in too many ways for him to go that route.

She was desperate for a job, poor, alone.

It sounded like she had no one but her old roommate, and now she was trapped in his home, surrounded by people who worked for him.

She had no one on her side.

Well, he was determined to put his libido in check and be on her side. Be
at
her side in as many ways as he could conjure.

He wasn’t going to seduce her, but he wanted to get to know her better, and somehow let her know that she wasn’t alone.

He knew he shouldn’t be doing it, but he was going to keep her with him as much as he could.

If he knew what was good for himself, he’d forget everything he felt and set her up somewhere where she could have a steady income—some job away from him and his burning needs—but the ache in his chest at the thought of not having her near him let him know right away he wouldn’t do that.

Why torture himself by not seeing her again?

He grinned to himself.

Michael, if you could only see me now.

His cousin would probably say some junk about fate; in fact, he’d proudly try to take credit.

He wouldn’t blame his cousin; after all, their paths might not have crossed had he not left the building yesterday. Or were they doomed to meet, one way or another?

In any case, whatever he was falling into with her now, he was going with it.

N
aomi awoke
to her blaring phone alarm, and fear took over her as she registered the unfamiliar room.

Then when she remembered where she was, a number of emotions assaulted her.

She tried to pick through them as she turned her alarm off, but she noticed a text message that suddenly grabbed her entire focus.

Seriously?
the text from Jenna read.

A ball of dread formed in her stomach as Naomi imagined Jenna’s face once she found the note she’d left her.

She knew she had to touch base with her best friend and ex-roommate soon, and that they probably had a little more to deal with than a returned key, but she certainly had no time for Jenna today considering her busy schedule.

She made a mental note to try to arrange a meet-up with her on one of her breaks.

Though it was Naomi’s second day on the job, it was her first day starting from inside the home, and Kevin had her on a tight schedule so she started to get ready immediately.

She was filled with apprehension as she showered, unsure how her interactions with her boss would go.

She thought he might start to hit on her, and kept imagining various scenarios—plotting out how to respond, how to turn him down and discourage him without getting herself fired.

Was he going to invite her to lunch? Dinner?

Breakfast was served seven to seven thirty a.m., and she found herself eating alone in the time allotted, then she had to help with cleanup before reporting to Kevin’s office to see if he needed anything.

But Jeffrey intercepted her, letting her know she’d be working closely with the chef that day.

Before she knew it, she was helping to prepare lunch, and her day was almost halfway over.

Luckily, lunch was not a solitary affair—since they were also going about various tasks in the main house, Naomi was able to sit and mingle with the other workers.

All the while she couldn’t help wondering about Kevin—had he asked for his food to be delivered to his office? Why hadn’t he required her to bring it?

Was he deliberately avoiding her?

Had he remembered he was dealing with gum that got stuck to his shoe?

She started to feel silly about her earlier fears.

When Jeffrey asked her to take coffee up to the office, her heart leapt with excitement, and she realized how much she’d been longing to see Kevin.

But to her dismay, he wasn’t in the office when she arrived, and she placed the coffee down, her shoulders drooping in disappointment.

To her utter relief, he crossed her path as her official shift ended, and she was floored by the joy she felt seeing his face and his familiar tall, strong frame.

But the interaction was quick, and he didn’t even stop walking when he said,

“I’d like to hear about today. Meet me for dinner at seven.”

“Yes, Mr. Davenport,” she said, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop the huge grin from taking over her face.

She noticed no reaction from him, though his mouth twitched a little and light seemed to pass across his eyes as he continued on his way.

Her anxiety was now a happy anticipation.

She was officially off for the day, and she now had a good chunk of time to call and talk to Jenna, but the dread she felt at the thought of doing so stopped her cold.

She didn’t want to ruin her mood—she was looking forward to communing with Mr. Davenport once again and she didn’t want to show up with heavy energy.

She went to her room to wait the time out, and again she thought about the various possibilities for reactions should he go too far.

She had already figured out how to stop him from walking her to her bedroom after dinner again—not because she was afraid of him, but because she was afraid of herself.

She wanted him, and no matter how many ways she tried to reason herself out of the almost-crippling need she felt for him, her body wanted no part of her brain’s logic.

Dinnertime arrived quickly once she’d showered and gotten ready, and her heart pounded the whole way to the dining room.

She smiled wide when she saw him, and when he indicated the seat next to him again, she happily went to it, hoping he wouldn’t be able to hear the thumping organ in her chest.

He didn’t say anything until the first course was brought to them, but his eyes never left her, even as he took a sip of his drink, and she wriggled under it, averting her eyes and thankful for the distraction of the food before them.

Had she not worked with the chef today, she would have had no idea what she was about to eat, but she looked forward to trying the seared Foie Gras with Soup Dumplings.

As he picked up his fork, Kevin opened his mouth to speak, and her heart picked up rhythm.

Luckily, he kept the conversation neutral and let her do most of the talking.

She found herself telling him a little more about her life growing up, sharing a few stories from her time with foster parents.

He seemed to listen intently to everything she had to say, and his follow-up questions almost always guaranteed that she ended up telling him a little more than she had intended.

She was relieved to see that he never looked disgusted by what she was—a balled up piece of paper left behind in an old, abandoned warehouse.

He never seemed uneasy with someone so far beneath his class at all, and for that, she didn’t mind when she told him a little too much; he didn’t make her feel exposed.

“
S
o what do
you like to do? When you’re not working?” he asked, his face neutral as their dessert arrived, this time a chocolate soufflé.

She shrugged and gave the only answer she could give.

“Read,” she said.

He nodded in understanding, his face relaxing into a hint of a smile.

“I figured,” he said.

She paused her next scoop. “What do you mean?”

“The way you speak—it’s not usual for your generation.”

Her generation? Sheesh, it’s not like he was decades older than her—he was in his early thirties at most.

“My usual personal assistant—she’s about your age, and as competent and delightful as she is at her job, she doesn’t speak like you. Then again, I suppose she hasn’t had much opportunity to show me her conversational skills as it is strictly business,” he said, almost as if to himself as he looked away, seeming lost in thought for a moment. “We have curt, to-the-point interactions.” Then he brought his eyes back up to her. “Anyway, I’ve heard other eighteen to twenty-four-year-olds—they don’t tend to use words like ‘gumption,’ and phrases like ‘it’s not all that taxing.’ The way you speak is sort of formal, which caught me off guard, as I’m aware of your background, and I know your schooling stopped after twelfth grade, yet your analytic skills and vocabulary, and even the way you phrase things is not usual.”

“Well, I may not have grown up with much, but libraries are always free.”

“Did you want to go to college?”

“Yes, and I have tried to go and applied for scholarships and even won a few before, but the funds were never enough. My plan was to work for a while and squirrel away funds while I applied to as many as I could, in hopes of enrolling as soon as possible. Well, when I first ‘graduated’ from the group home, I didn’t know what I didn’t know and didn’t have much guidance. I did check out some reference books in the library, but soon, other needs became far more pressing, and I found myself in a demanding routine of working to pay the basics. I kept trying to save, but things always came up, and time flew by.”

She shrugged her shoulders as if it didn’t matter, going back to her food.

“So how close are you? Do you think you’ll be ready to attend this fall or next?”

She noticed his face had sort of flattened into something she couldn’t read.

She knew it was too late for the upcoming fall, but it was certainly her goal to try to get in by the next. It was over a year away—surely she could get everything together by then.

“Well, it’s June now, and enrollment periods have long closed. I suppose I could still try to slip in and hope the waiting list isn’t long since people do drop out, but I’m still not ready in any way. I know it’s not too late, and I haven’t given up on it, and the opportunity you’ve given me here will help me get there with no worries. So yes—definitely next fall. I’ll be twenty-two by then, but it should still be easy enough to blend in—to some degree.”

“Do you have any preferences for where you want to go?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

He looked thoughtful, and she wanted so badly to ask what was on his mind.

“Small campus or large?”

“I feel like I would be more comfortable on a smaller campus—I’m usually more comfortable with fewer people are around.”

His eyebrows raised, but he said nothing.

“I don’t mean anything by that—it’s just…I’m an introvert. I’m not into parties and social gatherings—they take way too much out of me. Some people get energized by such interactions, and others get drained by it, like me. I prefer one-on-one interactions, and I don’t enjoy small talk with people I’m not likely to see again or develop any sort of relationship with. People can’t seem to help taking it personally when I turn down outings, and it’s totally not personal. It’s just extremely awkward and uncomfortable, and why torture myself?”

He seemed to be holding in a laugh.

“Glad I amused you,” she said softly, flashing him a smile.

“I will assume this evening was not torture for you since it has been one-on-one, and we’ve avoided talks of ‘who wore it best.’”

Naomi giggled.

The only torture was having him so close to her, looking that handsome, smelling that heavenly, and not being able to touch him to know for sure how his body feels against hers.

“This…” she said, indicating the dinner table then the two of them, “is perfect.”

Her cheeks flushed when she realized what she’d said—pretty much exactly what she meant, but when she glanced up at him, he didn’t seem to read too deeply into her words.

She let out a small breath of relief.