The Billionaire's Muse

  “I'm curious, did you read my book, or did you have someone else do it for you?”

  Something passed across her face before disappearing. It looked like annoyance. “I read it.”

  “What did you think?” I asked as I leaned forward.

  Pink tinged her cheeks. “It was well-written. The characters compelling. I believe it will sell well, especially in today's market.”

  “What about the...content?”

  Her fingers curled into a fist, and more color flooded her face. She didn't look away though. She thought for a moment before answering, “Your...subject matter rides a fine line. Too many erotica authors rely on the sensationalism of graphic sex – or whatever kinks they put into the story – and lose sight of writing a good story. Characters become flat, plots trite. But then there's the opposite problem as well. People who try to incorporate sex scenes into an otherwise decent story, but there's no sizzle. It's clinical, dry.”

  I reached across the table and let my fingers brush against her hand before I picked up the salt and set it down next to my plate.

  “Are you saying that you don't find my writing dry?”

  She grabbed her glass and took a gulp of water. Her skin was flushed a wonderful shade of pink, and I really wanted to know if her entire body was that color now.

  “I'm curious,” I continued, “what did you think of it? Not as an editor. I appreciate that insight, but I'd like to know your opinion as a reader. After all, that's why I write.”

  “You definitely don't need the money,” she muttered. She closed her eyes almost as soon as the words left her mouth. “Dammit. I didn't – I shouldn't have said that.”

  “It's quite all right, Ms. Lacey.” Fuck me. She was cute when she was off-kilter. A part of me wanted to see just how flustered I could make her. “Or may I call you Tanya?”

  She swallowed hard, looking like one of those proverbial deer caught in headlights. I could almost hear her sigh of relief when the waiter reappeared with our meals.

  I let the silence sit between us for a couple minutes as we ate. At least she actually ate her salad, instead of picking it apart like even the thought of lettuce calories were too much. I caught myself staring at her mouth more than once, thinking about what she would taste like, the sounds she'd make if I caught her lower lip between my teeth.

  “You didn't answer my question,” I said finally. “As a reader, what did you think of my book?”

  She took her time, eating a few more bites of her salad before answering. “It was...interesting.”

  I raised an eyebrow, and her blush returned. “What exactly did you find interesting? Was there a particular passage that...spoke to you? Something that maybe brought up some good memories?” I let my gaze drop, moving my eyes over her body in a slow, deliberate manner. “Or maybe something you'd want to try?”

  “Heat of the Sun isn't exactly my preferred genre,” she said.

  She'd squared her shoulders, her posture as stiff as her statement. Hmm. Despite that, I was sure she wasn't being a snob like a lot of people in the literary world, the people who'd spend hours pontificating about the virtues of War and Peace or Grapes of Wrath because those were the only true form of literature. The closest they'd get to erotica was Lolita or Lady Chatterley's Lover. And that was only okay because they were 'classics.' They based their opinions on the books their English professors had told them were appropriate rather than what they actually enjoyed. I had nothing against the classics. I just wasn't of the opinion that they were the only books worth reading.

  “Let me guess,” I said. “You mostly read authors like Jane Austen and Nicholas Sparks?”

  Her mouth twisted into something too sardonic to be a smile. “Try Terry Brooks and Phillip K Dick.”

  I gave her a surprised look. “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?”

  She looked impressed. “To be fair, I do like Sparks and Austen, but they're not as high on my list as science fiction and fantasy.”

  Interesting. She was in the right demographic for my genre but didn't have the usual alternate preferences of sweet romance instead of the more sexual kind of books. I wondered if that was because her own experiences had been completely vanilla. It would mesh with what else I'd seen of her personality.

  My cock hardened even more at the thought of being the one to introduce her to the pleasures of my world.

  I stretched my hand out to touch hers. I didn't bother with any pretense this time. I wanted to feel her soft skin under my fingertips, and her hand was as much as I was going to get at the moment.

  “I'm glad you enjoyed it,” I said. “Especially since the majority of those interesting scenes are based on personal experience.”

  Her lips parted, eyes going wide, the expression making me wonder what she looked like in the throes of passion.

  Before I could follow up with an offer to show her exactly what I meant, we were interrupted by a tall, exotic looking woman. The moment Tanya saw her, all the color drained from her face, and she yanked her hand back, dropping it into her lap.

  “Miss Lacey.” The other woman wore the sort of predatory expression that made me want to put myself between her and Tanya. “I believe your lunch break is almost over.”

  “Excuse me,” I cut in before Tanya could run off. “I wasn't aware that companies put a clock on a business lunch.”

  “I'm sorry, Mr. Sanders.” She held out her hand. “I'm Jai Foxe, editor at Branch Publishing. My assistant neglected to mention that we had a meeting today, or I would have been here to talk to you personally.”

  I glanced at Tanya, but her face was blank. I could only guess what was going on in her head.

  “That's quite alright, Ms. Foxe. Your assistant has been quite capable.” I made an unusually impulsive decision. “In fact, I think she's in tune with the sort of representation I'm looking for, so if Branch Publishing wants my book, I believe I'll continue working with Miss Lacey.”

  Jai opened her mouth to argue, then snapped it shut again.

  “Now, if you don't mind, Miss Lacey and I were in the middle of discussing the inspiration for some of the chapters in my book.” I turned back to Tanya, who was staring at me as if she couldn't believe what I'd just done.

  I understood how she felt. I wasn't entirely sure why I'd done it either. Only that I was as turned off by Jai Foxe as I was turned on by Tanya Lacey, and I knew that only one of them was going to be right for my book.

  And she was sitting right across from me.

  Chapter Eight

  Tanya

  I had to be dreaming. This had to be a dream. There wasn't any other plausible explanation for the fact that one of the best-looking men I'd ever seen had basically told my boss that he wanted me and not her.

  Well, not wanted wanted. That would just be crazy – crazier, was the more accurate word I supposed – since Erik sincerely wanting me to represent his book after he found out I was an assistant was crazy in and of itself.

  Which was why this had to be a dream.

  Or a hallucination. I could get being this being a hallucination rather than a dream. That could explain...actually, it couldn't explain anything. None of this made any sense.

  Especially not the fact that, until Miss Foxe had shown up, I'd been enjoying the conversation about...yeah...that. Dammit. I was so in over my head.

  “Now, where were we?”

  Damn, his eyes were gorgeous. Then he smiled and my stomach twisted. The rest of him wasn't bad either. I told myself to ignore all of it. Because he hadn't meant anything by what he'd said. We were just talking about his book.

  His fingers brushed mine, sending little electrical tingles across my skin. “Right, we were talking about personal experience.”

  Shit. I blurted out, “I think maybe you should consider letting Miss Foxe take things from here.” I looked over to where my boss was stalking out of the restaurant.

  He went still, his gaze searching. “Do you want to represent my book? Because if you
don't, I'll find someone else, but I won't be asking your boss. Not after the way she spoke to you.”

  A wave of warmth washed over me. I wasn't used to people caring about how I was being treated.

  Or caring about my opinion.

  “Tanya?”

  “I love the book,” I admitted. I needed to be completely honest with him. “And I'd love to represent it, but I'm afraid I wasn't entirely forthcoming in my email.”

  His eyes sparkled as he curled his fingers around mine. “Is that so?”

  I knew I should pull my hand back because this was supposed to be business. But I liked the way my hand felt in his. Since he was probably going to fire me, and then Miss Foxe was definitely going to fire me, I might as well let him keep holding my hand during the process.

  “Miss Foxe gave me a stack of manuscripts, and when I read yours, I told her that it was great, except she didn't do anything with it, and I didn't want it to get lost in the shuffle because it was so good.” I was vaguely aware that I was babbling.

  “So you believe in it?”

  I nodded. “I do.”

  “Then I think you're the perfect person to handle it.” He made it sound so simple, so matter-of-fact. “So what's next?”

  I was pretty sure that what was next for me was clearing out my desk and looking for a new job.

  His fingers tightened around my hand. “If you're worried about the fact that Miss Foxe walked out of here looking like she had a stick up her ass, don't. One of the reasons I didn't include my actual name on my manuscript is because I didn't want someone thinking of marketing me as Erik Sanders simply for shock value. But an official contract would have my name on it.” He gave me the sort of grin that made my stomach flip. “And I have no problem using my name to get what I want.”

  “Oh.”

  Eloquent.

  “Now, Miss Tanya Lacey, shall we give dessert a shot?”

  He flipped my hand over and traced along my wrist with a fingertip. I shivered, wishing that I could believe that what he wanted was me.

  “No, thank you.” The words came out more breathless than I intended.

  He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. I fought the urge to squirm. This was so not what I'd come to this meeting expecting. I was confident in my ability to see a book from submission to release, confident in my language skills. But him? I'd never been good with people, especially men, even before Aunt Lolly dumped me into the system.

  “My treat.” He gave me a charming smile. “As long as you answer a single question for me.”

  I pulled my hand back, suspicion giving me strength. “What question?”

  “Did the company give you a card for lunch, or were you planning on paying for the meal yourself?”

  Dammit. I didn't want to answer his question, and I really didn't care about dessert, but I couldn't lie to him. Not if I wanted him to trust me with his book. I wasn't a writer, but I knew that writing was deeply personal, no matter the subject matter, and him trusting me with it had to be built on an honest foundation.

  I shrugged. “I wasn't given a company account, but that doesn't matter.”

  “I'm not letting you pay,” he said, his eye sharpening, nearly piercing into my skin. “And don't bother arguing with me.”

  I ignored his second statement. “I can't let you do that.”

  “You will.” He gestured for the waiter to come back. “One piece of the Death by Chocolate cake, and two forks.”

  “Mr. Sanders.”

  “Erik.” Something in his voice shifted. “I don't want to be Mr. Sanders to you.”

  Fuck me. I was in trouble.

  “Now, we're going to eat that amazing dessert, and then you're going to go back to work where you'll get together a contract for me. And then you can give it to me tonight.”

  “Tonight?” My eyebrows shot up. “What's tonight?”

  He just grinned at me, looking more like a mischievous boy than a wealthy businessman. The waiter set down a plate between us, and the cake was definitely distracting enough for me to wait until I'd taken a couple bites before I asked again.

  “Mr. San – Erik,” I amended, “what's tonight?”

  I was pretty sure that no one should be allowed to make eating cake that hot, but it was entirely possible I was the only one thinking that way.

  “Tonight is when I plan to give you a taste of what you need to understand my book better.”

  Judging by the heat in his eyes, I didn't think we were heading to a surf shop.

  I was so in over my head.

  Chapter Nine

  Erik

  Wanting Tanya to represent my book instead of Jai Foxe made good business sense. If I'd learned anything working over the last few years, it was that a person who believed in something was usually better at promoting it than someone who was just paid to do it. And she said she believed in my work, so she was logically the best choice for it. Especially since I had my own business expertise to contribute.

  Plus, my gut said she was the one to go with, and I trusted my gut when it came to business choices.

  The decision to flirt, to touch her, to ask her out...I wasn't entirely sure what had made me think any of that was a good idea.

  It wasn't a date, I reminded myself. I hadn't asked her to go out with me. I told her that she was coming with me and I'd give her some insight into my book. And the flirting was just me being charming and trying to put her at ease. It hadn't meant anything overtly sexual.

  If I kept telling myself that, maybe I'd believe it by the time I arrived at her place.

  It was what made the most sense, after all. I fucked tall, long-legged women who were experienced Subs after a few hours of fun. I didn't know anything about Tanya's sexual history, but I felt fairly certain in my assessment that she was quite innocent. And that definitely wasn't my type.

  Which was what I told myself as my driver made his way through the city traffic.

  I'd lived here my entire life, and I didn't think of myself as a snob, but I'd never been to this neighborhood before. It wasn't in the worst part of the city, but it wasn't the best either. I directed my driver to the correct building, then instructed him to wait. I didn't intend to linger.

  I scowled when I realized I didn't need to be buzzed in but pushed that thought to the back of my mind. Her safety wasn't mine to worry about, no matter how much I wanted her.

  The stairs were steep, and by the time I got to the third floor, I was frowning at the cracks in the walls and the rips in the carpet. The building was narrow, and as I walked down the hall, I confirmed my suspicions by counting the number of doors crammed onto each side. The apartments here had to be one room and a bathroom, probably barely a few hundred square feet. I could probably fit one of these places inside my master bathroom.

  I reminded myself that the size of Tanya's apartment wasn't any of my concern, and then I knocked on the door. A moment later, it opened, and I forgot all of the reasons why this wasn't a date.

  She was wearing one of those little black dresses in the classic style that could stay in fashion for years. It wasn't anything fancy or daring. Mid-thigh hemline, neckline that revealed just a hint of cleavage.

  But it hugged those curves perfectly, and I found myself wondering what she was wearing underneath. Her heels were only a couple inches, so she barely reached my shoulder. Her hair was twisted up behind her head, and she wore such little makeup that I could barely tell she had it on. Everything about her outfit screamed that she wasn't sure if this was a date or a business meeting.

  That made two of us.

  “I hope this is all right for where we're going.” Her voice was softer than it had been at the restaurant, more uncertain.

  “It's perfect,” I assured her. “You look lovely.”

  I didn't think I'd ever used the word lovely to describe a woman. It was usually hot or beautiful or something like that. While those words fit her too, lovely was far more accurate.

  “So do...” She flushed
, the color moving across her chest and neck as well as her cheeks. “I mean, you look...nice.”

  I would've loved to ask her if she got this flustered every time she went out with someone, but I had a feeling that would just make her more nervous. While I enjoyed testing what made her blush, I didn't want to do anything that would make her change her mind about coming with me. If she wasn't comfortable with me, she'd bolt as soon as she saw what sort of club Gilded Cage was, and I really wanted to take her there.

  “Thank you,” I said and held out my arm. “My car's waiting out front.”

  As we walked down, I tried to think of something to say, to ask, anything that would distract me from the heat of her hand on my arm. It was warm enough outside that I'd gone with short sleeves, but I hadn't considered what it would be like to have my skin against hers. I'd never felt this hum of electricity with someone before. It was always pleasure or nothing, not this half-way between state that made me want to keep touching her, even as I opened the door for her.

  My driver already knew where we were going, so as I settled into the seat next to Tanya, I was able to focus all of my attention on her.

  “Have you lived here long?” I almost rolled my eyes at the question. I was better at small talk than that.

  “In New York or in my apartment?”

  “Both.”

  “I grew up in Albany.”

  A shadow passed over her eyes, telling me there was more to the story than that simple statement, but I didn't push it.

  “I came to New York for college,” she continued. “NYU. After I graduated, I moved into my own place.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to ask about her family when I realized she was bracing herself for what came next. Since the logical question to follow up with was the one I'd been about to ask, it didn't take a genius to figure out that family wasn't something she wanted to talk about. So I shifted the conversation and asked about college instead.