Richard rolled his eyes at that.
“With your obvious workaholic tendencies, alcohol wasn’t on your agenda, or you would’ve raided your own minibar and dove right back into whatever was bothering you. So, how’d I do?”
He unbuttoned his jacket and pocketed his hands. “I’m staying at the Crescent Court. But this crazy pool caught my eye when I drove in. It’s not every day you see a pool hanging over a street midway up a hotel. I had to check the place out.”
“At one in the morning?”
His lips lifted in a half smile. “I get restless, and I don’t need much sleep. I like staying in big cities because wandering clears my head, and I can blend into the nightlife. You’re right. I was trying to wrap my head around something. I happened to come in when those guys did, and, well, I saw you. We all saw you.”
The deepening blue of his eyes held hers. “You said hello to the folks at the front desk, asking one of them how he was doing with a new baby in the house.”
His endearing grin spread a little wider. “Then you made your way to the basement bar, and, looking the way you looked at this hour, we couldn’t exactly not follow you. They noticed me noticing you and proposed a friendly bet. Worst-case scenario, I paid a high price for a little entertainment. But I figured I had nothing to lose. I was pretty sure you weren’t falling for one of them. And if you did, I probably dodged a bullet.” When she gave him an admonishing look, he shrugged. “Come on, you met them.”
Truth.
“And best-case scenario?” She skated her fingers back and forth across the railing.
“Well, the wad of cash wasn’t terrible,” he said jokingly, and she was too charmed to be peeved. “That and I’d get to spend one of my first days in Dallas getting to know a beautiful fellow insomniac.”
“So beautiful that you gave me an alias when you were perfectly teed up to hand me your business card,” she said, raising her brows.
He gave her a sardonic smirk. “Yeah, why would anyone need an alias around a woman who looks the way you do, and just swindled a couple of strangers out of two grand?”
“I did no such thing.” Pretending to be offended, she tapped his chest. “You did all the swindling. I just sat there.”
He hung his head for a second, chuckling. “Fair enough. I guess you were just my con-artist life coach. Anyway, I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea if we, well, continued—”
“Our mad partnership of crime and mayhem? Fine, I’ll start my syndicate solo. Two thousand dollars and you got to buy me a drink. Clearing your head seems to be working for you.”
She could only hold his gaze for a few seconds before he looked away.
“Oh, speaking of . . .” He pulled out his wallet and fumbled to remove their take, diligently separating it from the cash he came in with.
Jaclyn had just enough time to sneak a peek at the name on his driver’s license encased in a clear plastic pocket of his wallet. Reluctantly, she stepped to the elevator and pushed the up button as he counted the money.
He handed her half. “Here you go. For whatever it’s worth, thank you. This was unexpected. And fun.”
She eyed the money indifferently, then clasped her hands around his, securing the loot in his grip. “It’s yours.”
His intrigued baby blues fixed on her as a ping sounded, announcing the arrival of the elevator.
“The pleasure was all mine, Richard. Richard Austin.” In a final impetuous act to close out their antics, she stole a swift, deep kiss.
His arms had barely molded around her before she pulled away. Admiring the bright red stain now covering his lips, she giggled. His wide-eyed fascination was priceless.
Damn, I’d love to bring Luke Skywalker to the dark side.
She stepped into the elevator and turned to him, sipping her stolen bourbon as the elevator doors closed. A smile tipped up her lips as she watched him standing with his mouth agape, still holding out his cash-filled hand.
Four
Jaclyn swung open the door to her lavish penthouse suite, practically skipping through it. If her insomnia had spiked earlier, it was full throttle now.
No matter.
Tomorrow—well, now actually today—was Saturday, with her biggest agenda item being a hotter-than-Hades date late in the morning.
Hot wasn’t a description of the date as much as the gym they’d be meeting at. It was rarely properly air-conditioned, and her trainer would spend the better part of ninety minutes trying to literally kick her ass. But she could roll out of bed and head over without worrying about a shower or makeup.
Wide awake and intrigued, she decided that rather than going to bed right away, she’d do a little traipsing through the world wide web. She made her way to the plush king-size bed in the corner of the suite’s bedroom. The floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the brilliant twinkling lights of downtown Dallas.
She hopped on the bed and seductively greeted her usual evening companion—her trusty laptop. “Let’s get to know Mr. Austin.”
There was an uncommon quality in the stranger she’d met tonight. He was different, a hot commodity that rarely occurred in her circles.
Raised in the wealthy world of quasi-arranged marriages, she’d staved off the CEOs or investment-banker types that seemed well-paired with a tall glass of Long lineage. Settling down might technically be on her bucket list, but matrimony continued to rank dead last on her must-dos before she died.
For this twenty-eight-year-old, being the head of a major corporation was a much shinier aspiration than marrying one. Her laser-focused ambition and thirst for adventure positioned her to take the helm as the next CEO and president of Long Multinational Systems, a multibillion-dollar global empire. A private partnership of the matrimonial kind was more than unlikely. It would be a freaking miracle.
Few men were contenders for her ideal match. Frankly, most men couldn’t keep up with her sharp wit and ceaseless competitive streak. Her tireless drive was hard to beat and exhausting to watch. Add to that her ceaseless need to push the envelope, in both business and relationships, and she was a lot to handle . . . if handling her was even the right word. Most men toggled between smothering her and trying to stomp out the brilliant fire that made her shine so bright.
And one way or another, men were always after her money.
Jaclyn had built her wall of trust issues brick by brick. Her early twenties were whiled away by meeting every eligible well-to-do dweeb. Dating someone who ran in her circles, let alone marrying one, had become about as appealing as a cappuccino colonoscopy.
But her blue-eyed bandit was a puzzle begging to be solved.
Let’s see who you really are, Mr. Mystery.
She quickly perused Google. First result: LinkedIn.
She flipped through a dozen possibilities until she found Richard Austin in Dallas. Just a blank avatar where a photo should be, but she continued skimming webpages.
No Twitter. No Instagram.
Facebook? Bingo. His account was bare bones, obviously set up by someone with zero intention of ever using it.
Thankfully, she’d seen the gorgeous goods up close and in person, as his online images weren’t exactly Calvin Klein ad worthy. Swiping right would definitely be iffy, at best. But, like he said, a confirmed bachelor with a public email and business number.