His Greed (Billionaire Blind Date Book 1) by Jacinda Chance Page A

he had. When his fingertip brushed my skin and I realized what he was doing with my hair, a rush of wetness surprised me. I’m not easily impressed, and I don’t ever feel attracted to anyone that quickly. Yet I couldn’t deny the warmth between my legs.
    He wore a white shirt open at the collar with black slacks, and if I had to guess, I’d say they were tailored. His shoes looked more expensive than my entire wardrobe. And he smelled like rich musk, just a hint that made me need to swallow. Only expensive cologne could be that subtle and dramatic at the same time.
    Aunt Carla said Bill was an accountant. Unless he was Warren Buffet’s accountant, Bill couldn’t afford to dress that way. Why wouldn’t you talk somebody up instead of down when trying to get your niece to date him? Was this opposite world?
    “A drink?” Bill asked.
    “Yes, thank you. White wine.”
    He smiled as if I’d told a joke. “Any preference?”
    I shrugged and wished I’d caught myself before I did it. “I don’t know much about wine.”
    He ordered a glass of “your best pinot grigio” and went back to devouring me with his eyes as he sipped his scotch. “Tell me something about yourself, Sophie.”
    “My aunt probably filled you in, didn’t she?” Though if she’d been as accurate as she had been when describing Bill, maybe I was as much a surprise to him.
    “I want you to tell me.”
    His voice was deep and smooth like everything about him, and it hit me like a fist why my aunt hadn’t warned me how gorgeous and sophisticated my blind date would be.
    She didn’t want me to back out.
    “There’s . . . not much to tell. Fresh out of college, degrees in hand, haven’t found anything permanent yet.”
    “Degrees?”
    “Art and marketing. I plan to work in commercial art.”
    He nodded. “Do you paint or prefer computer graphics?”
    “I paint, but I prefer sculpting.” My wine arrived. I licked my lips and took a sip. Bill’s short, quick questions unnerved me. “So, how long have you been an accountant?” I asked, my voice too high-pitched.
    “My business interests are more varied than that.” One corner of his mouth quirked up. “As are all my interests.”
    I took another sip of wine. Aunt Carla had been right. I would never have imagined anyone like this man to be interested in a date with me. Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was as polite as my aunt had said. But the way he kept looking at me was intense enough, it almost felt like a touch.
    He leaned back and tilted his head. “Tell me, Sophie, how long did it take you to choose that dress tonight?”

Three
    I leaned back in surprise and rubbed my thumb up and down the stem of my glass. “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “Did you pull several dresses out of your closet, unsure what to wear, before deciding on that one? Did you buy it especially for this date? Or did you grab whatever was black and short without giving it much thought?”
    One of Bill’s eyebrows raised as he waited for my answer. He looked amused. He might have been making fun of me, if not for the look in his eyes as he regarded my breasts.
    “I tried a few on before picking this one. I take it you don’t like it.” I put my hands in my lap and braced myself to leave if necessary.
    “I like it a lot.” His foot bumped my calf under the table. “There’s just too much of it,” he said, his voice deep and soft.
    I swallowed hard, another rush of heat in my center going against all my principles. I should have been put off by someone so brazen, focusing on my body, my breasts. The feminist in me should have been railing. But I sat there, feeling my heartbeat between my legs instead.
    “You’re blushing. I like that,” he said, a smile spreading across his face. “This place is a dump. Let me take you somewhere nice.”
    I laughed. “ You picked this place.”
    “Even so.” He slid out of the booth, dropped some crisply folded bills onto the table, and held out his hand for me