Billion Dollar Mistake by K.C. Crowne

Chapter 6

SAWYER

It’d taken me a bit of time to recover from the visit to Jolene’s office. I’d left feeling flushed and exhausted, as if I’d just run a mile as quickly as possible. I couldn’t remember the last time the simple act of asking a woman out on a date had caused me to feel so excited.

And that feeling of excitement had persisted through it all. I’d been half-hard the entire time I was there. Jolene, even in her scrubs and doctor’s coat, had looked so fucking good that part of me wanted to make a move right then and there. Asking her out on a date had been a hard enough sell – best I didn’t push my luck.

The way she’d hesitated, and hadn’t been sure about whether she wanted to come and get a drink with me or not…when was the last time I’d had a woman show apprehension about the opportunity to spend some time with me? Not to sound like a pompous dick, but I’d never had a hard time convincing a woman to let me buy her a drink.

There was something about Jolene however, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

There would be plenty of time to figure out what that certain something was later. Besides, it wasn’t the most important part of our time together that evening.

If all went according to plan, I’d talk her into being my fake fiancé.

The idea had come to me earlier, after lunch with my dad. At first, it’d seemed so insane that I’d dismissed it out of hand. But the more I’d thought about it, the more logical it’d become. It was simple ‒ I’d convince Jolene to pretend to be my fiancé. I’d buy her a ring, get her to play along for my dad. Then, after I’d convinced him that it was the real deal and he’d signed the papers handing Praetorian over to me, I’d wait a little longer then call it off.

Couldn’t be easier, and Dad would be none the wiser. As far as he knew, I’d gotten engaged to a woman I was crazy about. How was I supposed to know that, after such a short time, the magic would wear off? That’d show him for thinking that I’d be able to settle on a woman to be married to for the rest of my life, having only three freaking months to find her. Sure, he might be mad. But by then he’d be well into retirement, and I’d be kicking ass as the CEO of Praetorian. I’d be able to throw myself into the job in a way I couldn’t if I were married.

It’d work out for me, it’d work out for Dad, and it’d work out for the company. Even Jolene, assuming I could talk her into going along with the plan, would be better off after. I’d settle with a nice one time “alimony” payment to make it all worth the trouble. How could she resist an opportunity like that?

Still, it was far from a done deal. As I sat at the bar of The Grove, a Manhattan close at hand, I tried to figure out all the odds and ends while the hip interior was buzzing with local yuppies grabbing a happy hour drink on the way home from work. I’d shown up a little earlier than six, enough time to have a drink and think it all over. I almost wished I’d texted Zander first to run this plan by him, see what he thought.

Either way, the big question was whether Jolene would agree to what I had in mind. I didn’t remember much of her back from high school, only that she was a nerdy, straight-A type. Didn’t take too much imagination to think that she might also be a goody-goody type on top of that. My stomach clenched at the idea of her throwing her drink in my face upon hearing my proposal, then making a beeline right to my father to tell him of what I’d asked her.

I pushed that aside. One thing that you learn quickly being in a high stress, high stakes job like mine was that it didn’t do you a damn bit of good to think of worst-case scenarios like that. You did your best and pictured the most positive result coming true. And if things did go sideways, well, you dealt with it when it happened.

I sipped my Manhattan, checking my watch to see that it was still a little before six. I glanced up at the door, wondering if I was about to get stood up for the first time in my life.

But right at six o’clock, the door opened, the late evening light briefly flooding the dimly lit interior of the bar. Jolene’s unmistakable shape was outlined, her curves sensual, her auburn hair hanging down over her shoulders. The door shut, my cock going half-hard again at the sight of her in a pair of tight jeans, the gray blouse above just as snug. She’d put some effort into looking good for the evening. She looked so hot, in fact, that it was hard to believe she’d ever been an ugly duckling.

I rose as she approached, shifting my pants to hide the hard on I was sporting. She smiled slightly as she closed the distance between the two of us. I noticed that just about every pair of men’s eyes in the bar was on her as she strode over. Not like I blamed them – how the hell could any man with blood in his veins not notice a woman like her?

She was stunning; more beautiful than any woman I knew. The poise with which she carried herself made it clear that there was a good chance she wasn’t the sort who’d agree to a fake engagement and bogus wedding.

I found myself wondering, however, how she might feel about a first date romp. I winced internally, trying to get my libido to chill as she came over to greet me.

“Jolene,” I said, opening my arm and inviting her in for a quick hug. “Good to see you.”

She accepted the hug, pressing her body ‒ including her full, firm breasts ‒ against me. Her scent, the gentle aroma of lilacs and lavender, wrapped around me. Between her smell and her touch, it was impossible to prevent my cock from going fully hard. I had to do the awkward move to keep my hips as far apart from her as possible.

“Good to see you too, Sawyer. And glad that we’re meeting in a way that isn’t you showing up unannounced to my place of work.”

I chuckled at her barb, pulling the stool out for her. She gracefully slid into the seat.

“Now, I know it’s not polite to show up without advance notice, but you had to admit my popping in livened up your workday.”

She causally tilted her chin up to the bartender, not wasting any time starting the process of getting a drink in front of her.

“Something like that,” she said, the faintest whisper of a smile curling the corner of her mouth. The bartender, a trim twenty-something in a waistcoat and jeans, approached. “A glass of whatever your house red is, please.” The bartender nodded, producing the glass of wine, and placing it in front of her.

“At the very least,” I began, “You have to admit I’m a little easier on the eyes than the corpse you were likely working on.”

“That’s assuming I don’t work on corpses because I preferthem to living people.”

“I suppose I never considered that,” I said. “Is it true?”

“Well, let’s see. They don’t fill the air with small talk, and the men don’t ogle you. So far, that’s two points for team corpse.”

I gave her a skeptical glance. “Maybe. But something tells me you didn’t pick the line of work you did solely to get out of having to chitchat about the weather.”

“Then why do you think I did it?”

A very good question. I sipped my drink and thought it over.

“Well, let me see. I’ve been trying to remember what you were like in high school.”

Her face flashed with an expression that I couldn’t quite figure out. It was almost as if I’d broached a topic that she didn’t want to discuss, but she quickly composed herself.

“And what do you remember?”

“I remember us being in different social circles, like I said. And I remember you being one of the brainy kids. And I remember that during lunch, you always had your nose in a book.”

“Anything else?” It was as if there was something more that she was hoping, or perhaps fearing, that I might get to.

“That’s really it. We didn’t have the same friends. Maybe you and I went to the same parties every now and then?”

Her expression was flat. “I didn’t really do much partying back then.”

“Really? Because damn, that’s about all I remember doing from back in those days.”

Jolene’s expression tensed. I was getting the distinct impression that she wasn’t exactly having the best time revisiting high school. I decided to change the subject.

“But as for why you went into work with the dead instead of the living, I’m going to guess because you like a good mystery.”

She smiled slightly. “Oh yeah?”

“That’s what the field’s all about, right? They cart a dead body into your office and it’s up to you to figure out what happened. I read about the case that you were taking part in, the one that you served as an expert witness for.”

“You did, did you?”

“I did. Had a little time to kill before our date, so I poked around online and read a bit about it. Turns out the cops had what they thought was a suicide. But thanks to a certain brilliant and beautiful doctor, they learned that it was really a murder. Some seriously gruesome stuff if you ask me. But essential.”

“Well, you pretty much nailed it.”

“Tell me more, then. You’ve got an interesting job. I want to know more about why you got into it.”

She took a sip of her wine, as if she were buying herself some time to think over whether she wanted to get into it. When she set the glass back down, she nodded and turned to me.

“I can’t resist a good mystery – you’re right about that. All those books you saw me with my nose buried between the pages of ‒ those weren’t math or science ‒ they were true crime books.”

That got a look of surprise out of me.

“Are you serious? True crime? Like, stuff about serial killers and kidnapped women and that sort of thing?”

A sly smirk formed on her lips, as if she were pleased to know that she had shocked me.

“You surprised?” she asked.

“More than a little. I mean, you always seemed the mousey type. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“And, hopefully you don’t take offense at this, either, but you most definitely didn’t seem like the type who’d be into gruesome stuff like that. If anything, I would’ve guessed you’d be afraid of that sort of thing.”

The slight smile stayed on her lips.

“What, you think I’d read something about a serial killer and run screaming under my bed?”

“To be honest? Yeah.” I followed this up with a smile.

“I couldn’t get enough of the stuff.”

I placed my fingers on the rim of my glass and spun it slowly on the coaster.

“So, you developed a taste for the dark side of humanity when you were a teenager. Now, most people would guess someone with those inclinations would steer toward being a cop. Had a couple friends in high school and college who got a taste for justice – both are in the Denver PD now.”

She shook her head. “I’ve got tons of respect for people who go into law enforcement. It’s dangerous and it’s stressful. But I considered it and knew it wasn’t for me. I was still a nerd at heart, still am, really, and knew I needed to be somewhere I could use my book smarts for good. Medicine called out to me, so that’s what I went for. Working in the coroner’s office seemed like a natural fit. I could do some good in the world and follow my passion all at the same time.”

Passion.That was the word I’d use to describe watching her speak. As Jolene described her work, the passion she clearly felt for the job was written all over her gorgeous face. There was something unmistakably sexyabout listening to her go on about what she did for a living, seeing the enthusiasm light up her features.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been with a woman like her. Most of the women I ran around with were more interested in scrolling their phones and taking selfies than anything else. Hearing Jolene speak of the way she loved how the job challenged her, kept her on her toes…I couldn’t stop listening.

When she was done, however, she clammed up. The enthusiasm vanished from her face, replaced by something different – embarrassment. For a flash, the poised, confident, professional woman I’d met for drinks was gone, replaced by the shy, endearingly awkward girl she was back in high school. She took a quick sip of her drink, as if she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

She set down her glass and shook her head. “No. Well, just realized that I was going on and on about myself. Tends to happen when I talk about my work. Anyway, what about you? You work for your dad’s company, right?”

That was a whole other thing, one that I wasn’t so eager to get into. More than that, I was curious as to why she was so willing to get off the subject of her work.

I decided to press it.

“Why’d you clam up like that? Something wrong?”

She dragged her thumb up and down her wine stem, glancing away as if thinking something over.

“No, nothing’s wrong. Just that I tend to get carried away and excited about work.”

“And what’s so bad about that?”

“Well, I love talking about my work. Thing is, I’ve found that more often than not, people are put off by what I do.”

“Is that right?”

“It is.”

“That’s surprising to hear. I mean, grisly unsolved murders might not be everyone’s bag. But aren’t there tons of true crime books and shows and podcasts and all that? I mean, it’s not like this is some mega obscure topic that only a few people are into. People go crazy over this stuff. Not sure why, to be entirely honest, but they do.”

“See, that’s what I thought at first. I love true crime, and I love mysteries. So, when I was at Colorado Med getting my degree, I figured there’d be tons of other med students who’d want to geek out about it with me. Not the case.”

“That’s hard to believe.”

“Not really. See, it turns out that it’s one thing to be into true crime, to read the books and listen to the podcasts and enjoy it all from a distance. But it’s a whole other thing to literally be up to your wrists in death. So, I learned quickly to keep my mouth shut about it. That didn’t really help, though. I moved back to Whitepeak, and people started calling me ‘Dr. Death’ behind my back. Thought I was weird for my career choice.”

“Dr. Death?”

She let out a snort of a laugh as she sat up straight. “And you know what? That’s fine with me. I mean, I am a doctor who specializes in death. Why should it bother me if small-minded people come up with some snarky nickname because the essential work that I do makes them uncomfortable?”

She tried to say the words with pride, to let her chest swell as she spoke. However, I could sense that, while she meant every word she said, it still bothered her that people would talk about her in such a way behind her back.

Without thinking, I reached forward and placed my hand on hers. The electricity was instant and beyond intense.

“You know what? Screw them. Your job’s interesting as hell, and there’s no doubt in my mind that you need all sorts of brilliance to do it as well as you do. Moreover, you’re dead-on when you say your work is essential. It’s completely necessary for the safety of society. And if they don’t get that, then whatever. No reason for them to be assholes about it. You’re right on the money for ignoring their chattering.”

She smiled at my words, but in that moment, it almost didn’t matter what I said.

What did matter was my hand on hers, the touch of her skin against mine. Everything melted away but that.

It scared the hell out of me.