Always Yours by J. P. James

Author:J. P. James [James, J. P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-02-13T00:00:00+00:00

8

Chase

We take a circuitous route through the city, dropping Jimmy off at the office before pulling up to Blake’s apartment. The billionaire doesn’t say a word the entire way, but once we step through the front door, he relaxes somewhat.

“I hope the detour wasn’t too much trouble. Jimmy still has meetings to organize and coffees to drop off,” he says before moving to step into the kitchen.

I take a deep breath and stare out at the skyline. “Not to worry, I’ll go anywhere for an interview.”

This room is bigger than my entire apartment, and the view is breathtaking. The horizon wraps around the entire living room, the setting sun casting the furniture into beautiful shades of pink and purple. I can barely make out the people on the streets below; they look like ants. Instead, I fixate on the Potomac River beyond them, shimmering in the glow of the golden hour.

Blake comes from behind me with a tray of liquor and mixers and sets it on the coffee table. “Would you like another Moscow mule, or perhaps a gin drink?” he asks, pouring himself bourbon.

“You know my drink order?” I ask, looking curiously at him. Was he paying that much attention to me at Westie’s? My heart flutters at the thought.

I turn as he seats himself on the couch. He pats the cushion next to him, inviting me to make myself comfortable. My instinct says to climb on top of him, but I resist the urge and sit on the other couch across from the coffee table. I’d rather draw this out and make both of us even hungrier for each other. I cross my legs and fold my hands in my lap. His eyes follow the movement of my legs.

“You had one at Westie’s. I took a guess that it was a stressful night for you, and you’d want a familiar drink. I figured it was your favorite,” he explains, gesturing again to the array of spirits before us.

“Gin and tonic, please,” I request. He smiles and immediately starts to pour the alcohol. He mixes like a seasoned bartender. I’m a bit surprised. I wouldn’t expect a billionaire to know how to mix drinks because doesn’t he always have someone serving him? This man continues to surprise me.

“You should be a journalist,” I say, much to his delight. He chuckles. The corners of his eyes crinkle attractively with laughter. I like when he’s amused; it makes me feel like I’m not so far out of my league.

He nods a bit, considering my remark. “To tell you the truth, I’ve considered it. I’m good with facts, but I can’t tell my way out of a paper bag, let alone relay a story,” he says wryly. He hands a drink to me. I take it, but our hands linger as sparks fly. For a white-collar man, his hands are rough.

“Were you a construction worker before you decided to be a billionaire?” I ask with amusement.

He turns his hands over to inspect them.

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