Just like Grey Read online

  “I'm not a prostitute. You can't slip me a few sandwiches and a few more bucks and expect…” He started laughing. “It's funny to you?”

  He kept laughing and the longer he laughed, the more aggravated she became. She was about to storm off again when he finally regained his composure and said, “You think I was trying to buy sex from you?”

  Suddenly she was insulted for a different reason. “Oh, well excuse me for daring to think you'd lower yourself to offer a woman like me money for sex.”

  He laughed again and said, “So are you angry that I was trying to solicit you, or that I wasn't?”

  “Oh! Never mind!” She did storm away then, but she hadn't gotten far before his long strides put him in step with her. “Stop following me!”

  “I'm not following you…well, I am now, but I wasn't before. Will you stop for a second…please?” She stopped so suddenly that he kept going and had to turn back around. “Look,” he said, before she had a chance to start talking again. “Buying you a few sandwiches and telling the waitress to let you keep the change is the nicest, most unselfish thing I've done in a long time. I wasn't trying to impress you or buy you. I just happened to see you here and it looked like you were looking for a job and I happen to have a lot of connections…I just thought it might feel good to do something nice again. But then I get accused of being a pervert, so I don't know.”

  Isabelle felt her face go hot, again. She had been so down on herself lately that she automatically jumped to the first bad conclusion that came to mind. The truth might even be that it was easier to believe he wanted to fuck her than that she was so pitiful complete strangers could sense her need for help. Practically choking on her humiliation, she said, “I'm sorry. I don't usually…I was just having a bad day. I'm really embarrassed. Here, give the money to one of the homeless people, I'm sure they deserve it more than me.” She held the money out again. He didn't look at it. Those sexy green eyes were locked into hers and as much as she knew she should look away, she couldn't.

  He completely ignored the money and said, “What kind of work do you do?”

  “I was a buyer for an up and coming fashion company…but some rich asshole bought it and stripped it and sold it piece by piece.” Her blood boiled every time she thought about it. Buying a company to build it up and make it better was one thing. Buying it to pick its bones like a vulture…despicable in her book. The handsome man in front of her…Alex…whatever, suddenly didn't look as confident as he had a few seconds ago. “What business are you in?” she asked him.

  His eyes finally shifted from her face, but only for a second. Isabelle caught it though. She'd lived with a pathological liar for three years. She learned the hard way that every time he lied, he looked away first…just for a second. She'd finally found the strength to leave the asshole, once her job at Fisher Fashions had picked up and she'd been promoted to buyer…and six months later she was unemployed and had blown through all her savings and he was dating a supermodel. Somehow the bad guys always came out on top. She reminded herself that this wasn't about Darryl though and put her eyes back on the handsome face of the man in front of her that was about to tell her a lie…for some odd reason.

  “I dabble in this and that,” he said, noncommittally, “but I do have a good friend who works over at Rags…do you know it?”

  Did she know it? Rags was only THE company every girl in fashion school dreamed of working for someday. It was started in a garage by a woman with nothing and now she was one of the richest in the world, and he clothes the most recognized. “Um, yeah, I know it.” Was that his lie? Was he just pretending to know someone over there as part of his act of seducing her? She hated being so suspicious, but life hadn't given her much to trust lately.

  “My friend is on the board of directors over there. Why don't you get your resume together and we'll meet later…I'll buy dinner, and tomorrow I'll take her the resume.”

  Dinner. So, was this all about a date? She looked him over again. He was hot, about thirty-five, maybe closer to forty, in excellent shape, obviously wealthy…no, this guy wouldn't have to trick women into dating him…would he? She looked down at herself. She'd been so depressed lately that she hadn't even been taking care of herself or matching her clothes for that matter. She looked like a bag lady. Of course, he wasn't going through all this trouble for a date with her. Maybe he was just really trying to be nice. Some men are just nice…or so she wanted to believe. “Dinner, huh?”

  He smiled. God, he was getting hotter by the minute. She'd have to be careful of that. Food wasn't all she'd been hungry for lately. “Dinner, I can send a car for you if you give me your address.”

  “No. I'll meet you there.”

  He chuckled. “Okay. Can I have your name, at least?”

  “It's Isabelle,” she said.

  “Izzy, I like it.”

  His presumption that they'd ever be close enough for him to call her Izzy had her irked again. “Isabelle,” she said.

  He grinned. “Okay, Isabelle. Do you like Japanese?”

  “Sure.” She loved Japanese food…but, she wasn't ready to let him be too proud of himself, he'd start calling her “Izzy” again. “That'll work.”

  “How about Sambune on E.73rd. Say…eight?”

  “Okay. I'll meet you there.” She was calculating in her head how much an Uber or Taxi would cost to get her from her apartment in the West Village to E. 73rd. It was only eight or nine miles, but it would be a hell of a cold walk after dark…Damn it. Maybe she shouldn't have been so hasty about the car.

  As if reading her thoughts, or more likely the look on her face, he said, “You're sure you wouldn't like me to send the car? It wouldn't be any trouble.”

  “Well, I suppose if it's no trouble,” she said, thinking about clomping eight miles in heels…or giving up forty or fifty of the dollars in her hand for a car instead of paying her phone bill.

  “No trouble at all, Izzy,” he said with a wink.

  She rolled her eyes and said, “It's Isabelle.” He grinned again. This guy really thinks he's cute. She wondered how he'd like to be forced to address her as Miss Brazil…on his knees…begging…the tickle in her core flared at the sound of his voice again, “Give me your phone number and…”

  The mention of her disconnected phone brought reality back. “My address is 600 Washington Street. I'll wait out front at seven-thirty.”

  “Okay, I'll see you tonight then…Isabelle.”

  She nodded stiffly, and this time waited for him to walk away first. He had his hands in his pockets, his head held high and that confident air that surrounded people like him wafted around him. She was envious and as she turned and walked back in the other direction she reminded herself to hold her own head up high. She was young, well-educated and she had good references. If this guy was legit…her luck might just be about to change. She stuffed the money he wouldn't take back in her pocket and headed toward her phone carrier's office. If this guy turned out to be full of it, at least she'd have a phone…and a good meal out of the deal. She was still better off than she was yesterday. The only thing that bothered her was that look…the one where he was trying to decide what to tell her when she asked what he did for a living. It might not be a big deal, maybe he was worried if he told her where he worked that she'd stalk him or something. But, nothing bothered her worse than a lie…no matter how small. That thought was still on her mind even after she stopped and paid her phone bill and made it all the way back to her apartment. If nothing else, she'd be in fabulous shape by the time she can afford to take a cab or an Uber again. It was just after noon when she got home, and she told herself she'd wasted enough time worrying about what this guy did for a living. What difference did it make, if she was going to end up with a job out of the deal? She wasn't used to accepting help, that was the problem. Isabelle Brazil had control issues…she liked to be in charge of her own life and her own happiness. Theodore the cat greeted her at the door, crying hungrily and she smiled. That's wha
t she should have been…a cat. They never relinquish control.

  “I know, Theo, you hate the ninety-nine-cent cat food, I get it. But hey, I have news!” She picked the big orange Tom cat and cuddled him up against her neck. “I'm having sushi tonight and I promise to slip some in my purse to bring home for you later.” Theodore's meow sounded doubtful. “Fine,” she said as she placed him back on the floor. “Doubt me now, but later when you're dining on Unagi, I'll expect an apology.” He turned his back to her and walked back into the kitchen with his tail in the air. She rolled her eyes and smiled before kicking off her boots and carrying them into the bedroom. Pulling open the closet she tossed in the boots and then stared at the clothes on the rack and wondered what she should wear to dinner that night. She'd never been to that restaurant, but she'd walked by there more than once. It was a nice place filled with fashionable people, and since she was hoping to get a job with the hippest fashion company in the city, she should look the part. She reached up and took down a white bohemian dress that she'd bought with her last real paycheck. She'd never taken the tags off it and when she started getting desperate for money to pay her bills, she'd thought about taking it back. She had talked herself out of it though and today she was glad that she had.

  She reached up to put the dress back and her eyes fell on the hidden shelves behind her clothes. That was the stuff she would take back if she could. It wasn't like any of it was doing her any good now. Unfortunately, there wasn't much of a market for used sex toys and BDSM equipment. She sighed and then a picture of Alex…what's his name came to mind. This time he was tied to the bed and she was dressed in leather…and holding that big, white feather she'd bought, but never used. A shiver ran through her and she felt a rush of warmth in her panties. Shaking herself voluntarily then, she pulled the clothes across the shelf and closed the closet door. She had ninety-nine problems at the moment and the reality of that visual would probably only bring with it ninety-nine more.

  3

  Alex knew he was attracted to the hungry, feisty little brunette, but he'd spent the day since he'd seen her that morning convincing himself that this was all about being a good guy…turning over a new leaf…giving back. But, when Izzy started to step out of that car he'd sent for her, he felt like he'd been kicked in the ribs and he had to concentrate on breathing. The flare of lust in his body was so quick and so hot that for a second, he thought he might really be melting from the inside out. She was wearing a dress that on a hangar would have looked average, but on her…it was a fucking masterpiece. It was white, bohemian style and it came to just below her knees in front. The back was longer and scalloped to her ankles. The neckline was scooped, but not low enough to show any cleavage…but it made a man imagine that it was there, and he liked that. She wore a black lace sweater over the dress and high-heeled black suede boots on her feet. The heels on the boots made her already long legs look even longer and he had a vision of what they would look like wrapped around him. He wondered if she was cold in all that thin fabric…and then he wondered if the heat his body had to be throwing off would keep her warm, like a bonfire.

  Alex went over to where the driver was holding the door open for her and reached for her hand. She didn't exactly brush it away, but, she didn't take it either. She stepped out on her own and a light, breezy scent wafted out with her. He smiled, tried to keep his eyes on her face and off that luscious body and he said, “Hello Izzy.”

  She reached back into the car for her bag. It was black too, leather and over-sized for a purse. So different from the fancy little designer clutch purses that Kelly used to carry around. “It's Isabelle,” she said, obviously annoyed with him already. He kept smiling and had to wonder if part of him was so intrigued by her because of her hard edges. Did she had a soft, warm, feminine side, just waiting to be uncovered? It was a sexy thought…one that he suddenly knew he wanted to explore further. He could do that and still be a nice, philanthropic guy…right?

  The beautiful Japanese hostess, who was also the owner's daughter, took them straight back to their table. It was Alex's usual table…his and Kelly's. Their breakup culminated at that very table and it was the first time that Alex realized just how apathetic he was about that. Here he was right back at the scene of the crime, so to speak, with no qualms about it whatsoever. As a matter of fact, he was here with butterflies in his stomach, anticipating a new adventure. Maybe that made him a bad guy, but he didn't think so, especially since Kelly was as anxious to break off their relationship and get on with her life as he was his.

  Alex focused his attention back on his “date,” as he held out her chair. As she sat he caught himself trying to get a whiff of her hair. She'd worn it down and the dark tresses offered an almost startling contrast to the white dress. The waves that fell down her back looked soft and natural and his palms and fingers itched to touch it and see if it was as silky as it looked. He didn't though. She would probably bite him. He almost chuckled at the thought, especially when he realized that he was surprisingly turned on by it He took his seat across from her and took the wine list from the waiter that had appeared out of nowhere. Alex wasn't surprised. They took very good care of him here. It was one reason that he'd wanted to bring Izzy to this particular restaurant, he supposed. There was a part of him that wanted to show off a little…see if he could impress her.

  “Thank you, Hiro,” he told the waiter. “I'll find out what the lady likes, and you can get it for us when you come back with our water.”

  “Yes sir,” Hiro said, bowing at the waist in Izzy's direction before hurrying away. She nodded and smiled at him, but when Alex asked, “Red or white?” the smile fell from her face and she said,

  “Neither for me. I'd rather just have an iced tea…please.”

  He had no idea what it was about this woman that got to him, exactly. Yeah, she was beautiful, hotter than hell as a matter of fact…but beautiful was a dime a dozen when you're a billionaire, so to speak. It wasn't her beauty. If that was all it was, he would have hit on her in the park. There was something about her that made him want to peel away her layers and see what was underneath. Of course, he might just find the steel rod that was holding her spine up so stiffly, and then he'd be sorely disappointed. Hiro was back with their ice water and a basket of won tons and sauce and Alex said,

  “Iced tea for the lady.” Hiro didn't look as surprised as much as he did slightly confused. It was probably because Kelly took full advantage of the fact that he could afford the most expensive bottle of wine they had…and often ordered two. Hiro bowed again however and left the table. As he watched Hiro walk away, it dawned on Alex that he'd never in his adult life been out with a woman that didn't order some kind of alcoholic beverage. But, Izzy, who seemed to be different in every way from every other woman…wanted an iced tea. Maybe that was what made her so uptight. Maybe she was a dry drunk. He tabled that thought for the time being and went back into trying to impress her mode. He knew what the chef's best dishes were and he was prepared to order a taste of the all for her.

  “Would you like me to order for us both? The chef is a personal friend of mine and I know what his specialties are…”

  She wasn't impressed. As a matter of fact, she practically scoffed as she said, “I prefer to order my own food, thank you.” Damn, she was a feisty one, and Alex was at a loss about how much that was turning him on. He was used to women that deferred to him, or pouted to get their way, or twirled their hair, chewed on their bottom lip…or there were the ones that leaned over more times than necessary so that he'd be forced to look at her tits so that he'd forget what he wanted and give into her…What he wasn't used to was cold, aloof and completely covered, and he was surprised that he was absolutely dying to see just a little piece.

  “Sure,” he said, just about the time that Hiro came back with her iced tea. “Can the lady have a menu please?” The damned little Japanese man did look surprised then, which led into Izzy asking, “Is this where you bring all your dates?” Hiro had j
ust cut his usual tip in half, and he knew it. He handed Izzy a menu and without taking time for a bow this time, he scurried away.

  “Well,” Alex said, “not all of them.” The truth was that for the past two years his only date had been Kelly. She loved Japanese food and good wine, so they went there a lot. Since he and Kelly had only broken up two weeks before, at this table, Izzy was the first “date” he'd had in the past two years. But, was this a date? Hmm…she seemed to think so, since that was her word…. Promising?

  “Not that I care,” she said, “since we're not on a date.” Maybe not. She set her menu down and reached into her over-sized purse and pulled out a manila folder and held it out in his direction.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  “My resume, and references. That was what this dinner was about, right? You said you might have a lead on a job for me…with Rags?”

  “Yes, of course.” He took the folder and tried to be grateful for the reminder. He wasn't here to get laid, although that would be fucking amazing since he hadn't had sex since two weeks before he and Kelly broke up. Four weeks. Sitting across the table from a goddess. Damn, his dick hurt.

  “Are you ready to order, sir?” Hiro was back, right on cue.

  “Um, yes…I mean, Izzy?”

  “Isabelle,” she said, curtly. “Yes, I'm ready,” she said, and then shocking him and Hiro both, she said something in Japanese. It was beautiful, like she was singing almost. His cock jumped in his pants. Jesus, she was killing him. It took him a few seconds to realize she was killing the waiter as well. Hiro's entire face was lit up as he answered her in Japanese. She said something back to him in that sing-song voice and he laughed. Alex felt like he was intruding on their date, especially when Izzy gave flashed the most genuine smile he'd seen on her face, since she'd spoken to the homeless man that morning. Hiro lingered and for the first time in years, Alex felt jealous. He frowned at the little man who suddenly bowed and scurried away to put the order in. Izzy lifted an eyebrow in Alex's direction slightly, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she looked back down at the manila folder he'd set aside and said, “I have a BAF in fashion from the Academy of Fashion Design and I worked for two years as an assistant buyer for Lee Rod Designs…” The name of the company sent a flare of guilt shooting through Alex's veins. It was his most recent acquisition… “And then this Black Knight son of a bitch…”