Free Shopping for a Billionaire 1 by Julia Kent Page A

themselves have genuine reactions to anything emotional.”
    “I’m not most people.” The words come out wrong. What I want to say is I wear my heart on my sleeve, but that seems too vulnerable. This is just a business dinner, right?
    Right.
    “I’m sorry,” I say, pulling my hand away with great reluctance. He squeezes it and begins to run his thumb along the soft skin of my wrist.
    He’s not going to let me retreat.
    “So tell me why you need more convincing to give this account to Consolidated,” I say, trying to change the tenor of this encounter.
    I fail.
    “Tell me why you’re so afraid of me.”
    I reach for the red wine with my open hand and twirl the glass. The last time I drank red wine was with Steve, at our final work outing for him. He dragged me along to a big dinner with his firm and I choked down a glass and a half as he sent me a million nonverbal signals throughout the entire dinner.
    Most of which involved scowls and eye rolls, because I did everything wrong.
    Declan takes a sip of his wine and returns his attention to me.
    “I’m not afraid of you.” I really want white wine. A battle inside emerges. Let it go , one part says. Speak up and assert yourself says another. Billionaire grandchildren says my mother’s voice.
    I take a big sip of the red wine and choke it down.
    “Maybe you’re afraid of yourself,” he says.
    “Maybe I’m afraid you think I’m just being whored out by my boss so I’ll land this account.”
    “Maybe I don’t need sex so badly I trade accounts for it.”
    “Maybe that was never an option.”
    “Maybe I’m more interested in knowing why you were perched on that toilet. You still haven’t answered my question from earlier.”
    That makes me laugh. “Why do you think? I was finishing the last mystery shop of the day. Who do you think reports on the cleanliness of the bathrooms?”
    That makes him pause and take another sip of wine. “Never thought about it.” He’s still holding my hand, but his thumb stops moving.
    “Of course not. That’s my job. Not yours.” I lean in, lowering my voice. “And thank you for not asking me to count the pubic hairs on the urinal cake.”
    “You’re welcome, I guess.” He does a double take. “Our competitors do that?”
    “And worse. Don’t ask what I have to do when I evaluate a manicure salon and detail their anti-fungal procedures.”
    He closed his eyes, but he’s amused. “How romantic.”
    “I wouldn’t talk like this if we were on a date. But this is all business.”
    We both look at our clasped hands. Then our eyes meet and he starts to say something, but the waiter appears and introduces himself. A flurry of recited specials and then we order. I get the filet and Declan orders some complicated pheasant dish.
    “No salad and fish?” he asks when the waiter leaves. We’ve dropped hands. It feels weird to be disconnected. We’re sitting next to each other, yet the table is large.
    “Was I supposed to? Is this a mystery shop and that’s the required meal?” I’m teasing, but it occurs to me that this is the first time I’ve dined out in a long time where I get to choose exactly what I want.
    He cocks his head and studies me. In the low light of the restaurant, I can see auburn highlights in his hair. “Tell me about your life.”
    “Wow. You start small, don’t you?”
    He smiles wide, flashing those perfect teeth. “Tell me.”
    “I’ll tell you about the account,” I insist, trying hard to bring this back to business.
    He sighs. “You have the account.”
    “I do?” I squeak.
    “Of course. Now I want more.”
     

 
    Chapter Ten
     
    “Wait. Why did you ask about salad and fish?” First things first.
    “Because that’s what every woman I date orders when we dine.”
    “Seriously? There’s a meal code? I’m breaking some rule by getting beef ?”
    “You ordered what you like. I find that appealing. No pretense. No affect. You’re just being Shannon.”
    Which wasn’t