Chasing The O Read online

  “Why not?” Ashley said. “You want to prove you’re not shy around guys: ask out a billionaire. Show your business tenacity—your moxie.”

  “You’ve got lots of it, we both know it,” Danielle added.

  My heartbeat was starting to climb again, strangely encouraged by their words. It would be something to just go up and do. Ask out a billionaire. I mean, I could do it, but the rejection . . . yet, if I already knew it was coming, what was the big deal, right? Because you’d look like a fool, a voice inside me said. You’d probably fall into his arms again and have to face the humiliation in front of all these people. That thought terrified me.

  But I did want to prove that I wasn’t as timid as they judged me to be. “So, what would I say?”

  “Well, he’s wearing a Blazers shirt, so we know he’s into basketball,” Ashley noted. “You could ask him out to Migration Brewing; they have happy-hour pitchers during all Blazers games.”

  “I don’t think he’s worried about the cost of a pitcher,” I laughed, unable to believe that I was entertaining the idea at all. “We couldn’t go somewhere so relaxed. It’s too average.”

  “After everything you’ve said about him”—Ashley took a quick drink—“he doesn’t really seem like the tux-and-ballroom type. You’ve described him as nerdy and laidback, until he gets awkward. He might like it if you asked him to a regular place like Migration.”

  “It’s a good idea,” Danielle reinforced. She opened her mouth to say something when she whipped her head around, apparently glimpsing something at the front, her jaw hanging loose. “I don’t believe it.”

  The dirty-blond, bra-only wonder had moved aside a bench and was stretching in her short white spandex shorts directly in view of Vince, bending at the waist. I noticed then that she was wearing a plunge sports bra that displayed both her girls. Vince’s eyes were glued to her cleavage.

  “Well, now we definitely know he’s not gay,” Danielle observed. I’d never had the feeling he was, but there was little sense in arguing with her about the subject. “I think someone is trying to steal your man.” Her irritation with the woman was palpable.

  “He’s not my man,” I pointed out.

  “Still . . .” Her lips curled up, and her eyes were practically lasers. “Hey, I have an idea—I’ll go up there and distract the floozy while you ask out Vince. How’s that sound?”

  “Sounds terrible,” I said.

  “Yeah, what?” Ashley gave her a severe glare.

  “Danielle stopped her machine and threw up her arms to the side of mine to get me to slow down. “Sometimes, Maci, you just have to take the plunge.”

  Her words forced out a grin in me. That was the advice I’d said to her before she proposed to Ashley. She was madly in love with her but afraid of commitment. Now she was the happiest I’d ever seen her. I swung my leg off the footpad and wiped the sweat away with my towel. “Okay,” I said softly. I drew in a big breath and exhaled, controlled. “I’ll take the plunge.”

  She smiled back. “Moxie.”

  “Moxie,” I repeated. My jumpy nerves proved hard to steel, and my tongue felt too big for my mouth, choking me.

  Danielle turned to Ashley. “Let’s see how comfortable you are with this.” She grabbed my hand and tugged me between the ellipticals and treadmills, up to the row of bikes, heading left for the aisle. She let go of my hand as we approached.

  Blood was pounding in my ear, muting the various gym noises. “Show him what you’ve got.” I heard her encouragement, though dulled. I smiled thinly, all too aware of what I was about to do. Okay, time to lose the demure attitude, I told myself. Although I was wearing a skimpy blue cami, it didn’t rival the woman’s bra outfit in terms of the skin-to-fabric ratio, and was modest by comparison. She had turned around so that her butt was now the show.

  There was enough room that Danielle could stretch beside the woman with a sizable gap between them. She strolled up beside her, her backside facing the woman’s eyes, and bent down in a sensual, rather than practical, position to “stretch.” Vince’s eyes were now drawn to two pairs of cheeks as he rested on the bench. Terrance was beside him pushing dumbbells into the air as if he were punching the ceiling.

  I composed myself, getting into my business, brimming-with-confidence mode. “Enjoying the view?” I asked, with a silly smirk that showed a sly playfulness.

  Vince whirled his head and jerked back as he spotted me. “I—uh—I was taking a break,” he said, his voice cracking worse than a thirteen-year-old boy’s. “I noticed that exercise ball was flat.” He pointed to a giant deflated rubber ball in the corner, on the other side of Danielle, who was putting on a show for Mrs. Huge Boobs. “I thought I should probably have someone get a replacement out.” He was caught, but doing a fine job covering it up. Sweat was pouring off him like a showerhead—a showerhead I wanted to stand under. He stood, looking down at me. “So, long time, no see. How are you? Need the bench again?”

  I laughed, maybe a little too hard. Nerves. Damn them. “No, I don’t need the bench, but that’s a good one.” The joke stung a little, remembering the idiotic attempt to hide my advance, when all the benches were vacant except his. I continued, unfazed. “I’m doing well, just trying to get in shape, you know. How about you?”

  “Yeah, same. Terrance here is a real stickler for proper training, too.” He pointed with his chin at his muscular friend, who didn’t so much as smile our way, ignoring my presence entirely. “Pretty crazy bumping into you again last night.” I could tell his shyness was fishing for something to say.

  “Yeah, sorry about your head.” I thought about touching his arm, but that seemed too forward. My tongue had swelled so much that it felt like I was talking funny, but Vince’s face didn’t seem to register a change.

  “It was nothing.” He rubbed his forehead where a red spot marked our encounter. “We do seem destined to keep running into each other, don’t you think? We’ve had what, three collisions?”

  I laughed, my heart leaping at the sound of his voice. The urge to kiss him returned, fiery and unstoppable. “So, uh, Vince . . .” Would you like to go out to dinner? I repeated a million times in my head, about to hurl them at his ears.

  “Hey, if you’re not doing anything tonight, would you like to go to a Blazers game with me?” he asked, throwing off my whole prepared speech. “I have an extra ticket, and I’d really like it if you joined me.”

  Staggered, the question made my knees buckle. Stop staring at him and say something! the little voice inside me screamed. “Basketball?” was all I could manage, in a small, mousy voice.

  “I mean, if you’re not into it, that’s cool,” he said, and I could see where the conversation was going.

  “I’d love to,” I blurted. “I’m a big, big fan of the Blazers. Love basketball.” I’d never been so thrilled about a sporting event in my life; my body was afire with excitement.

  “Really?” he said, skeptical.

  “Oh, yeah.” I felt like a fool for saying it, knowing the truth would come out later, but I had to get closer, had to take the opportunity. “Well, more college,” I lied. “Go Ducks!” Hopefully that would distract him from asking too many questions about the NBA, of which I knew very little indeed.

  “Well, that’s, uh—that’s cool.” He cleared his throat. “To be honest, I only watch March Madness, and that’s about it as far as college games go . . . The game’s at seven, so I’ll pick you up around six?”

  “Sure, that sounds great,” I said smoothly, checking my enthusiasm. I didn’t want to come off as a giddy high school girl.

  “You live with Danielle, right?”

  I nodded.

  “All right, then I have your address from the insurance information.” Terrance was waiting by the stairs, glaring at us, his eyes searing. “I better get going. I’m running a bit behind today. I’ll see you at six.” He wiped down the bench he used with a personal rag towel and spray bottle.

  “Six sharp,” I said, nervous
laughter breaking through my professional barrier. He laughed, and I could see the eagerness in his eyes before he turned and left. Did mine possess the same obvious desire?

  Danielle was already back at the ellipticals when I turned around, the bra-only woman forgotten. Grabbing my arm and pulling me in for a congratulatory hug, she squealed, “So, tell us exactly what happened.”

  I supplied them with the particulars and, as I told them the story, my stomach grew more and more nervous for the coming evening. I had never been so attracted, so sexually intrigued by a man before, and the thought of us together tensed my muscles into knots.

  Whatever the future held, I was about to go on a date with a billionaire, and I was determined to make the night a memory he wouldn’t soon forget.

  8

  THE FIRST OF MANY?

  Vince arrived fifteen minutes early. A knock at the door sent a wicked jolt to my heart. I spied through the peephole, and then abruptly opened the door, smiling so wide, it hurt. I found it extremely difficult to contain my excitement. Vince stood there, alone, wearing a red jersey that read “PORTLAND” across the front with a little “0” underneath it. Over this, draped a snug custom-made black blazer with “RIP CITY” embroidered on the chest in white and red. He even wore a pair of custom Blazer basketball shoes.

  Seeing all the Blazers gear reminded me of the first bad date with BlazersFan88, and my heart sank at the thought, hoping that the night didn’t go the same route. I scanned the vicinity for his partner but saw no one. “What, no bodyguard?” I asked, joking.

  “He’s over there.” He pointed to a man parked on a motorcycle, reading a book.

  “Oh, right . . .” Suddenly my joke didn’t seem so humorous. “Is that Terrance?” I asked, noticing the beard dangling underneath the helmet.

  “Yes,” Vince answered quickly. “He’s my prime bodyguard and sometimes driver.”

  “You have more than one?”

  “I have a few,” he said. He clapped his hands, animated. “So, are you ready for tonight?”

  “Uh—actually—no, sorry. Could you give me a minute?” I had spent over an hour on my hair, only to give up and let it down as it was, with small ringlets and my bangs flowing to the left. Even with Danielle and Ashley’s help, putting together an outfit that would leave an everlasting impression on him was no easy task, probably taking just as long as my hair. The only problem was that I hadn’t put it on yet, afraid to ruin it.

  “Yeah, no problem,” he said. “Can I come in?”

  “Oh, right.” I stepped back and waved my hand for him to enter. “I’ll just be a sec.” I scurried off to my bedroom and threw off my clothes, changing underwear. I swapped into my favorite push-up, grabbed the ivory sweater dress off the bed, and slipped the plush knit over my head. The deep scoop neck accentuated my bustline and revealed enough cleavage to make a man sweat with excitement—or so I hoped. I forwent any leggings despite the cold and chose to show off some leg, figuring it would be warm enough in the stadium. For the same reason, I also sacrificed my usual scarf, hoping that it challenged Vince’s attention to focus on me instead of the game, knowing how easily men could be distracted by a little skin. I paired my brown knee-high boots with the dress and fake pearl earrings.

  Colby-Jack hopped onto the bed and kneaded the comforter, desperate for attention. I rubbed his head and scratched behind his right ear, his second favorite spot, and said, “Wish me luck, CJ.” He replied with a soft purr.

  After adjusting my hair, I rejoined Vince in the living room, where he was talking with Ashley and Danielle. “Again, it wasn’t a problem,” he said, obviously talking about the fender bender. He turned when their eyes shifted toward me entering from the hall. His eyes landed on me and my skin tingled all over, electrified. “Wow—that’s uh . . .” He gulped, staring at my chest. “You look stunning. What is that? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “It’s a sweater dress,” I answered, smoothing out the sides to the flare skirt hem.

  “They’re all over,” Danielle said. “You’ve probably seen them, but didn’t notice.”

  “Because few are rockin’ ’em like Maci,” Ashley added.

  “I would agree with that,” Vince said, smiling. “And who’s this little guy?” Colby-Jack ran beside me and rubbed Vince’s legs. He dropped to the floor and scratched Colby-Jack’s neck.

  “That’s my cat, Colby-Jack,” I answered.

  “Like the cheese?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Clever.” He stood up and held up his arm like a gentleman from the movies. “Shall we, my dear?”

  I tossed my clutch into one of Danielle’s stylish brown leather purses that matched my boots, then grabbed his arm. “I’ll see you two later.”

  “Go Blazers!” Ashley said, throwing out her arm to smack my butt, but Danielle blocked her shot with a quick slap that Vince couldn’t see.

  “Have fun,” Danielle said, shutting the door as we stepped down onto the broken and cracked walkway. He opened the passenger door to his Mustang and closed it when I locked the buckle in place.

  “So, this is what a billionaire’s car is like,” I joked as he sat. I wanted to tranquillize the elephant before it loomed between us on the date.

  He started up the engine, which was oddly silent, and when I made a second glance at the controls, I saw that they were all electric, with a green “ON” button. “So, you do know who I am.” He entered the street. Behind us I could see Terrance zigzagging back and forth on his motorcycle in a bored manner. “I was beginning to wonder.”

  “It took me a while,” I admitted. “Actually, I probably never would’ve figured it out. The clerk at Powell’s last night pointed you out on the cover of Wired.”

  “Ah.” He looked over at me and trapped my eyes. “And?”

  “And what?”

  “Are you comfortable?”

  “I wouldn’t have agreed to this date if I wasn’t.”

  He nodded. “Just checking. Most people are very uncomfortable around me when they realize who I am.”

  My left hand was inching toward the console between us, edging for his thigh. The impulse to kiss him was so strong and wild. It took all I had to arrest the temptation. I clutched the purse in my lap with a vise-like grip. “It is a little intimidating.”

  “Are you trying to strangle your purse?” he asked, nodding at my hands.

  “What? Oh.” I relaxed my fingers and loosened my shoulders, placing my arms on the upholstered armrests. “Just trying to wrap my head around what’s happening.”

  “Our date?”

  “Yeah, our date.”

  “Because of the money?”

  “Because you seem so normal.”

  He laughed. “I like normalcy.”

  I had to do it. I had to know. “Why me?” I asked.

  “Because you think I’m normal,” he answered. “Few others do. Makes it hard to be normal, you know? When people talk to me, they talk about my money, my company, and all that. But not you—you talked to me about normal stuff, even asked about the book I was reading. Other women just talk to me because they see dollar signs.”

  I opened my mouth to respond but was cut off.

  “And because you’re leagues sexier than any woman I’ve ever met.” His voice hitched, clearly nervous putting that out in the air.

  I reddened all over. “Are you looking for a dalliance with me?” My heart pounded as the words left my mouth. What did I want him to say? Yes? No? What would I do if he said yes?

  “You mean like a one-night stand?”

  I nodded, shaking.

  “No,” he said, “that’s not what I’m looking for.”

  I hadn’t even noticed I was holding my breath, but I sighed in relief—a huge, audible sigh.

  “Is that what you want from me?”

  I smiled at him, my eyes yearning for him, and I could tell he was fighting the same battle. The sense of desire pervaded the small enclosure. No, I want you more
than once, a dark little voice whispered in my head. Who was she and where did she come from? “I want to get to know you,” I replied. “Every time we meet, I don’t feel like you’re just talking to me because I’m there, but you’re talking to me because you genuinely are interested in what I have to say.”

  “So you’re not here just for my rippling muscles?” he laughed. The nervous tension was evaporating, leaving only the sexual. “I’d like you to get to know me, too, but I really want to dive deeper into the mystery that is Maci Goodwin.”

  “I’m not sure I’m much of a mystery.”

  He laughed again. “You are to me. I know almost nothing about you.”

  “Well, sadly, there’s no Wikipedia page on me for you to brush up on my past.”

  “No, I guess not. I’ll just have to do it the old-fashioned ‘Q&A’ style.” He rested his right hand on the gear stick and I wanted to graze his fingers, but instead, I turned my attention to the passing buildings for distraction. Could I be so forward? He wasn’t an Andre or a David, and flirtatious touching seemed more complicated, especially since every time I touched him, my body came to life with electricity. His voice broke my thoughts. “But first, tell me what Wikipedia said about me.”

  “That you were born in Seattle in ninety-one,” I said, checking the mirror for the bodyguard. It felt like he was a spy sent to make sure I didn’t get too close. “That you went to Stanford for your undergrad, then earned your MS in Mechanical Engineering, also at Stanford, starting up your own company with Alma Perez in two thousand sixteen after you graduated, working in the alternative energy industry . . . Surprisingly, not much. I mean, for someone with your affluence.”

  “Well, I’m pretty new to the scene. I mean, I’m no Mark Zuckerberg, not yet anyway. He was only twenty-three when he made his first billion.” It sounded like he was comparing his success, but it was hard to tell what he meant by the comment. “It’s all happened so fast, our first contract coming early last year to really kick us off, then the military voiced their interest in June, and that’s where a huge chunk has come from. Of course, international clients are what sent us over the billion-dollar hump and into the major players club.”