Maid To The Billionaire(5)

“I admire your drive, Vicki. It was one of the many things that Cassandra and I fought about when she lived here.” Cassandra is his wife and I had heard one or two of those fights as I kept my head down and tried to pretend I didn’t. “She doesn’t have any at all. She never wanted to work, which I was okay with at first. But I had pictured her heading up charities or at the very least having our children and caring for them. As it turned out, she had no interest in any of that at all. She informed me two years into our marriage that she wasn’t interested in being a mother. I can’t believe that I’m telling you this,” he said suddenly. I realized he remembered who he was talking to. Not thinking I shot my hand out and covered his with it.



“That had to be hard. Please don’t worry. I will keep your confidence. I appreciate you talking to me about this so much. I know how busy you are and for you to take time out of your day like this for the likes of me…”



He moved his hand, but he didn’t take it away. Instead, he wrapped mine up in it and looked intensely at my face as he said, “Don’t do that, Vicki. Don’t say things about yourself like that as if I’m better than you and I’m slumming by sitting here having a pleasant conversation with you. The things I just told you about Cassie… they’re not things I shared with anyone else, except my attorneys, that’s why I said I couldn’t believe I was telling you. It actually feels good to be able to talk to someone about it.”



I smiled and nodded. He was still gripping my hand. My heart was speeding up and I was suddenly having a hard time breathing. “You can talk to me about any of it, sir. I won’t tell anyone.”



He grinned. “I really wish you’d stop calling me sir,” he said again. “Tell me about you, Vicki. Where did you grow up?”



“I grew up in L.A. out near Glendale.”



“I grew up here too, in Orange County,” he said. Of course he did. I wasn’t certain of his background, but it was obvious wealth wasn’t brand new to him. He wore it so well though. I’d never seen him be haughty or arrogant about it, unlike his dear wife.



“I spent a lot of time in Orange when I was young,” I told him. “My mother worked in a place there and I’d go out and spend time on the playground near the pier at Seal Beach or watching the sunset or eating a burger at…”



“Ruby’s!”



“Yes,” I said with a smile. “I loved Ruby’s.”



“Me too, it was my favorite spot.”



“It was not!”



“Seriously, I used to sit at that booth in the far corner and play music on that little table jukebox and watch the sunset nearly every Friday night.”



“I loved those jukeboxes and I loved that booth too! It was always taken. I think I only actually got to sit there once.”



“It was probably me,” he said with a grin.



I smiled back at him, who could help it? It was funny to imagine our lives intersecting like that as kids and us not even noticing. He was seven years older than me though. I was about twelve when I started spending a lot of time down there. He was probably already in college. Still, it was nice to know we had that in common.



“Thank you, sir,” I said. He’d taken my mind off of Jason and I was very appreciative.



He laughed and said, “You’re welcome… for what I’m not sure.”



“For making me forget my problems and remember being happy on the beach. Really, it was so nice of you to take time out of your schedule for me, sir. I appreciate it.”



He suddenly had a look in his eyes that wasn’t amusement and his voice was husky as he said, “I really wish that you’d stop calling me sir. I want to kiss you, Vicki… badly. When you call me ‘Sir’ it reminds me that I shouldn’t.”



I was shocked, excited and scared all at the same time. I told myself to politely decline. I told myself to go back to work, and then, I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was because now he was touching me. He’d let go of my hand and now his fingertips were lightly skimming along my bare arms and sending delicious shivers throughout my body that landed in the deepest part of my belly. Or maybe it was because of the intense way he was still looking into my eyes and I knew now that what I saw there was desire. Maybe it was all of it. I don’t know. But I opened my mouth and as if I were a bystander and not a participant, I heard myself say his name, “Alex.”



That was his invitation to kiss me. I’d meant it that way. He took it for what it was. He cupped the side of my face in his hand and leaned in, placing his lips over mine. His lips were so warm, so full and so soft and when his tongue snaked out, my own lips parted and allowed him the access he desired. His wet tongue slipped into my mouth and explored every inch of it. My breath was completely gone and I didn’t care. The kiss was so incredible; I was ready to keep doing it until I passed out. This is how kisses are supposed to be. I loved the way he rested his hand on the side of my face while he tasted my lips, and I loved the way he was demanding, but still sweet. It’s the kind of kiss that you know you’ll never forget, even if he walked out right now and I never saw him again. That was when I suddenly remembered who it was I was kissing. I pulled back and looked at him while I tried to catch my breath. This man is more than hot. He’s perfect. He’s a work of art. He’s my boss and I just kissed him. I was torn between being giddy over that thought and horrified. I felt like a stupid teenager who’d just been kissed by the football star. I was gaping at him like a fool and I know my eyes must have been as wide as saucers. What did I just do?