The Billionaire's Unwanted Virgin

By: Doris O Connor

"I hope you had a pleasant journey here. You will want to freshen up I expect and—"

"Actually, Mr. Nevin, I'd just as soon get this over with, so if you don't mind can you take me to whoever … err … well…" She couldn't bring herself to say the words. To say it out loud would make it all seem even more sordid.

He smiled again and stepped aside for her to pass. The coolness of the entrance hall raised gooseflesh on her exposed arms, and she wrapped them around herself, as she gingerly slid her feet along the marble flooring. A huge curved staircase led up to the top floor, and numerous doors led off the entrance hall downstairs.

"If you'll follow me to the courtyard. I will have some refreshments brought for you, and I'll see whether he's available."

Alice frowned at the deliberate avoidance of his employer's name. At this rate they would probably do the deed with her blindfolded and gagged. She shivered again, and rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. That thought should have her run away screaming, surely, rather than have her secretly excited. This wasn't some romance novel, and she was not about to meet some dashing hero. Someone who had as much money as this Zeb had to be butt-ugly or something. That was just the way it worked, wasn't it? And why did she wonder about this now? It wouldn't make the slightest bit of difference, because he'd bought her to do with her as he pleased.

Again she suppressed a shiver, and she breathed a sigh of relief when they stepped out of the cool house and into the courtyard. The sun warmed the little square, and she slid onto one of the garden benches scattered around the fountain in the middle with a grateful sigh. Ivy clung to the brickwork giving the house a much more welcoming feel.

"I'll be back momentarily, Miss Wanderlund." Percy Nevin disappeared through a door on the opposite side, and Alice couldn't help herself. Fountains always reminded her of a vacation they'd had in Rome, when Daddy had still been alive. They had thrown a coin into every fountain they'd found, and Alice had closed her eyes and made a fervent wish.

She dug in her oversized handbag for the spare change that always rolled around on the bottom and stepping up to the fountain, closed her eyes and threw the coin inside.

"I'm not sure any wishes made here will work, little Alice in Wonderland."

The deep, slightly accented voice wrapped itself around her like a heavy cloak, even as the age old joke on her name had her grind her teeth. She spun ‘round to give the owner of that sinfully sexy voice a verbal dressing down, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth when the man stepped out of the shadows.

Dark eyes the color of charcoal assessed her from under straight slashed eyebrows drawn together in a frown. Shiny jet black hair, pulled back into a ponytail with a sliver of leather, framed a proud, tanned face with a crooked nose that looked as though it had been broken more than once. A five o’ clock shadow already framed that prominent jaw, marred by a lethal looking scar on one side that drew her gaze to a full, sensuous mouth, set in a grim smile. He'd rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, exposing strong forearms and the edges of an intricate tribal tattoo on his left biceps. Arms crossed over his chest, his broad shoulders strained the fabric of his shirt.

Aware that she was staring, she could not tear her eyes away from his languid long-legged advance. The faded denim jeans clung to him like a second skin and accentuated the obvious bulge in his groin. Heat crept into her cheeks, and she hastily tore her eyes away from that part of his body. She did not need the reminder of what she had signed up for. His clean, male scent filled her senses when he stepped right into her personal space, so close that his body heat warmed her frozen skin, and she had to crane her neck to look up at him. He towered over her and leant one hand on the fountain wall while he looked inside.

"So, tell me little Alice, what did you wish for?"

"I'm not little, and that play on my name is hardly original." Her voice was far too breathy, but at least she'd managed to get it to work.

He focused his attention back on her, and her heart turned into a jack hammer. The man was simply gorgeous. Sexy and dangerous all rolled into one heart-stopping, testosterone-laden man, who had bad boy written all over him. If he was indeed Zeb, then heaven help her. Lying back and thinking of England suddenly didn't seem like an option anymore.

"If the shoe fits…" He was so close that his hot, slightly minty breath raised the fine strands of hair that had come loose out its confines at the nape of her neck, and she drew a shuddering breath into her lungs. His gaze followed that movement and settled briefly on her breasts. They felt heavier under his obvious perusal, and her nipples beaded into hard nubs. She hastily crossed her arms and stepped away from him, to give herself some much needed breathing space, and to avoid him noticing her body's shameless reaction to his presence.

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