How to Avoid a Billionaire(3)

“Of course. Diamonds?”

“Yes, and write something appropriate.”

“Will do as soon as I get back to my desk.”

“Where are you?”

“Accounting.”

He rubbed his jaw, thinking. “Fine. Ten thousand should do it.”

“You got it.”

He hung up the phone and considered his next move, how soon to meet Melanie and where. Even as he thought it over, a thrill raced through his system, the excitement of a new conquest, the charge of power at bringing another to their knees. Tonight, he decided, Melanie Cai would fall into his snare.

The day passed quickly with Melanie buried under mountains of work. Between phone calls, emails, and meetings, she felt like she’d gotten nowhere, but she breathed a sigh of relief when she could call it quits at seven p.m. Exhausted, hungry, and needing a shower, she left the office to head home. Uptown Charlotte wasn’t a bad place to be after dark, but she didn’t want to push her luck either. Her step brisk, she walked toward the lot where she’d parked her car. Thank goodness a couple coworkers mentioned hitting a nearby restaurant for a late dinner together or she would have made it half way to Matthews, where she lived, before recalling she had no food in the house. She’d turned down the invitation to join them and said Jimmy John’s would be good enough tonight with how tired she was.

She peered down at the rumpled blouse she wore. At least her skirt was okay. That was more than she could say to the condition of her pantyhose. A run had started at her heel and worked its way up her leg. In fact, she felt it snaking across her ass as she sat there. At the end of the day, her makeup looked horrible, especially the liner, with Charlotte’s July heat.

At a traffic light, she pulled out her cell phone and clicked the app for her favorite restaurant. She ordered a sandwich and drink for pickup. Twenty minutes later, she arrived at the restaurant and parked. The full lot said everyone else had the same idea. The line for pickups made her groan.

“Doesn’t look good,” came a deep voice from behind her. Melanie started and glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze met the broad chest of a man, and she craned her neck to look up at him. Friendly eyes and a killer smile met her inspection, and her mouth went dry.

“Yeah, it’s crazy, but the food is great, so it’s worth it.”

A dark brow rose. “Really? I’m glad to hear it. I’ve never been here.” He nodded toward the windows. “The dine-in option looks promising. Care to join me?”

Melanie’s mouth fell open. She blinked a few times, hoping it would somehow clear her befuddled mind. Men had tried to pick her up in the oddest of places, including the pharmacy counter at the drugstore, but never here and never by a man who obviously had so much going for him. She gave him another once over and noted the huge build, the expensive-looking suit, the rakish hairstyle, not to mention the sexy smile. This kind of man could get any woman he wanted, and while Melanie had healthy self-esteem, she knew he didn’t go for women like her.

He held out his hand, and she moved on reflex to take it and found hers lost in the large palm. A tingle of awareness sped from her fingers to other regions she did not need brought to life in a restaurant’s parking lot. “Me?” she asked, wanting to be sure hunger hadn’t addled the man’s wits. After all it was late for dinner.

Melanie thought she saw a knowing glint in his eyes before it vanished, and he flashed the overwhelming smile at her. Someone needed to tell him to control that weapon. Then again, he probably already was. How many women had fallen with soaked panties at his feet?

“Yes, were you busy?” he asked. His tone said he wouldn’t believe it—or wouldn’t accept it.

“It’s late and I’ve been at the office all day.”

He frowned. “You’re not turning me down, are you? After I worked up the nerve to ask?”

Is he for real? Memories of that morning, talking herself into confronting Hanson came to mind. She felt sorry for this man. Maybe she was wrong in her assessment of his character, and he had to work up the courage to approach her. “I don’t know your name.”

He bent forward a little, still holding her hand. At five-foot-one and wearing four-inch heels, she didn’t come up to his shoulder. She guessed him to be six-three or four. The warmth in his gaze stole her breath.

“Ryder. And you are?”

She licked her lips. Her own name escaped her. Melanie. That was it. “Melanie.” She was about to give her last name, but he spoke over her while caressing a tiny area of skin behind her thumb.

“Beautiful name, Melanie, like the woman.”