Free Barefoot Kisses: A Billionaire Love Story by Krista Lakes Page A

simple black pants and a black shirt that hugged is thin frame with a bright blue scarf around his neck.
    “That's me,” I replied with a laugh. The man grinned, his teeth white against his dark skin. He came closer and I realized he had the most amazing blue eyes. “I don't really know what I'm doing here.”
    “Well, the clothes out here aren't really for you.” He motioned to the sequined dress. “I doubt Kathryn would appreciate that in her office.”
    I giggled at the image of me sparkling while preparing her legal documents. “No, probably not.”
    He held out a friendly hand. “I'm Raoul.”
    “Lena,” I replied, taking his hand. His fingers were calloused and his grip strong.
    “Come with me, Lena.” He grinned. “I'm going to make you look like a star.”
    ***
    T hree hours later, I had tried on more clothing than I had ever even owned in my entire life. I was exhausted. I had no idea how just putting on and taking off clothes could take so much energy. Suddenly, I could see how the socialites of the world stayed so skinny. All they did was change their clothes.
    The door leading to freedom opened and Kathryn walked in. “How's it going, Raoul?”
    “Fantastic. I think we have a good base,” he answered, handing her his bill.
    “A good base?” I repeated quietly, looking at the pile of clothes I had tried on. It was a mountain, yet all I had to show for my work was three suits, two dresses, some dress shirts, four pairs of shoes and the appointment card for another fitting. Apparently, despite trying on fourteen sets of suits that I thought looked great, Raoul felt I needed to get some custom made. I was due to come back for round two in a couple of days.
    Kathryn signed the bill for my clothing without even looking at it. I had a feeling I didn't want to know how much it was for. If I did, I wouldn't dare breathe in any of it for fear of ripping a ten thousand dollar stitch.
    “Lena,” Kathryn asked suddenly. “Do you have a swimsuit?”
    “Uh- swimsuit?” I imagined myself walking through the halls of the office in a skimpy bikini. I couldn't imagine why I would need a swimsuit for this job. I was fairly sure that Kathryn was in to men.
    “I have some in stock,” Raoul said helpfully. “It's off season, but everything is at this time of year.”
    “Go ahead and bring it out,” Kathryn told him. “Can't have her wearing a three-thousand dollar suit to the meetings and a ten dollar bathing suit to the beach.”
    “Bathing suit?” I asked once Raoul disappeared into his storage room. Kathryn sat down on the couch next to me. “Beach?”
    “You are accompanying me to the Travel, Inc. legal meeting,” she informed me matter-of-factly.
    “What's that and why does it require a swim suit?” I was still confused, but at least it wasn't for the office.
    She reached for her briefcase and began looking for something. “Our firm heads all legal council for Travel, Inc. Every year, Travel, Inc. and MSW meet to discuss the future.”
    “In swimsuits?” I had the sudden image of an entire board room full of high powered business executives in swimsuits. There was a towel on the center of the table and everyone was drinking fruity drinks.
    Kathryn must have imagined something similar because she laughed. “The meeting is held at a resort on Key Island.” When I showed no recognition of the name, she added, “in the Caribbean.”
    “Oh.” I raised my eyebrows as understanding hit me. “We're going to the Caribbean?”
    “I told you this job had travel,” Kathryn said, still rooting around in her briefcase for something. “I believe my exact words were, 'It will be long hours, there will be travel, and I expect perfection.'”
    “I was thinking travel like to Toledo. The Caribbean sounds great,” I said, trying to sound calm and mostly succeeding. This job just kept getting better and better. “You said it was a legal meeting for Travel, Inc.?”
    “Yes,” she responded. She handed