The Billionaire's Paradise (Sexy Billionaires)(2)

Except when he fell asleep at night, he couldn’t shake the memory of Avery arching under him, of her hands gliding down his chest, or the way she cried out against his ear when her body climaxed under his touch.

No, one night hadn’t been enough. He was nowhere near done with the elusive Ms. Clarke.

All he needed to do was convince her of that fact, and they could embark on the affair they should have had from the start. He had no doubt it would burn hot and fast but that was just his speed. A few weeks and the woman would be out of his mind for good.

Provided he could catch her first.

“Have you booked the private jet?”

“It’s on standby,” Wyatt said. “If you have the bad sense to go, a fully stocked jet is yours to command.”

“Then I’m off to paradise.”

Wyatt shook his head. “Just don’t fall off the map completely. Every now and then I actually need you to do your job.”

“Sounds tedious.”

“Says the billionaire hotel mogul.”

“You should loosen up sometime, Wyatt. You might find you have a taste for adventure.”

“And then who would there be to grow Wexton Hotels?” he pointed out. “Besides, you have enough fun for the both of us.”

“It’s a difficult cross to bear.” He downed the last of his scotch before setting the glass aside. His suitcase waited by the door, ready for the trip he was itching to start.

“I’ll leave matters in your capable hands,” he said.

Wyatt waved him off. “I’ll show myself out once I’ve finished your excellent scotch.”

“Admit it—half the reason you finally took the job was the unlimited access to my liquor cabinet.”

“Your taste for extravagance is rubbing off on me. Now go get shot down so you can come back to work.”

“What an appealing plan,” he said drily, tossing a long trench coat over his shoulders and grabbing his bag. “I’ll see you soon, Wyatt.”

“Good luck,” his friend replied with an airy wave.

Hayden strode from the penthouse with a smile on his lips. He didn’t need luck.

He just needed Avery.





Chapter Two

The surf tickled her toes.

Avery shielded her eyes, staring down the pristine beach. Palm trees waved gently in the warm breeze, and the sound of the ocean filled her ears. Last night she’d slept with the door to her balcony wide open so she’d hear the waves. This morning she’d taken her complimentary breakfast on that same terrace, soaking in the sun reflecting off the sapphire ocean.

Sometimes, my job just plain rocks.

Sure, she’d been hired to consult on a Wexton hotel that was losing money, a task that would likely prove a headache, but she got to do it on this little slice of heaven floating in the Pacific. There were definitely perks to choosing her own contracts.

Rolling up her linen pants, she’d waded through the shallows and scrunched the sand between her toes. When was the last time she’d taken a break like this?

Never. It’s always work, work, work.

Not that she was complaining. She liked keeping busy, being the master of her own schedule. It kept her mind occupied. What would she do with a week or two off? Sit alone in her city condo binge watching TV shows? Or worse, suffer through endless dinners with her parents, listening to her only two living relatives drop hint after hint about extending their family line.

She reached down, fishing a shell from the water. No, she thought, examining her find, it was better to book job after job. The world was too big to stay in one place for long. It was the motto by which she’d lived her life. Well, for the past two years, at least.

A flick of her wrist sent the rejected shell sailing through the air before it vanished into the waves. Tipping her face up to the sun, she closed her eyes with a sigh. Right now, she wasn’t feeling the usual pull to schedule every second of the day. Maybe she’d delay her start date and spend a week lounging by the pool. The thought of a romance novel in one hand and a margarita in the other was more than a little appealing.

Except I signed a contract.

Which meant she was currently on the clock and had better spend more time earning her keep and less time daydreaming about trading in her briefcase for a surfboard and spending the rest of her years chasing the perfect wave.

Of course, she’d need to learn to surf first, but that was a challenge she wouldn’t mind accepting.

“Come on, Clarke,” she said to herself. Stop procrastinating.

Forcing her body to move, she left the warm ocean waters with reluctance. What sort of boss would she be if she played hooky on the first day of the job?

A nicely tanned one.

She shook her head at the thought. There’d be time to lounge on the beach later, she’d make sure of it.