Her Sweet Billionaire Romance Boxset Read online

  “I’m fine. I should get back to work,” Dena said grabbing a roll of paper towels and a bottle of glass cleaner from her cart. Without a second glance, she strode over to the window, sprayed it down heavily, and proceeded to clean the already spotless glass.

  Fascinated by her lack of interest, he studied her. The way her waist moved in perfect sequence with her outstretched hand was steady and soothing. The complete attention to detail knowing full well he was watching her, he found entertaining. Never in his thirty-five years of life, had he met a woman who did not swoon over him. Or at the very least, give him her full attention. This girl – she was different.

  “Are you new here?” he said trying to gain back her attention. “I haven’t seen you around before.” Ugh. Why did that sound like a cheap pick-up line at a local nightclub?

  Chapter 2

  As she polished the window pane with complete perfection, her mind drifted off to sea. A talent she’d practiced and perfected with great skill.

  Why was the man speaking to her, anyway? In all her years of employment by his company, he’d never once addressed her. Why now?

  I so shouldn’t have gotten up this morning.

  She nodded in affirmation to his question. Wait. What am I saying? Of course, I’m not new here. Come on, Dena, find your vocal cords.

  “Five years,” she crackled out, her voice sounding strange even to her.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’ve been here for five years,” she said a bit more confidently.

  “Oh. Well, I’m sorry I never noticed. Have a seat, Gina, please.”

  It’s Dena, she screamed inside her head, but her brain had shut down for the night and refused to send the proper signals to her mouth.

  “So, Gina. I’m not sure if you overheard the conversation between―well I’ll just get right down to the point.”

  He was going to ask her to go with him to the conference. Her, Dena Gysler, the cleaning lady. Her heart thumped in her chest as she waited for him to finish his sentence.

  “I’d like to offer you ten thousand dollars to be my date for the weekend. No strings attached.”

  Her heart deflated, and she ground her teeth. What kind of girl did he think she was? A cheap call girl? Okay, ten thousand dollars was in no way cheap, but still. She was a lady. Even if she were only a cleaning lady. And a lady could not be bought.

  “No, thank you,” she huffed and stood. How dare he? “Now if you’ll excuse me.” She grabbed her cleaning cart, tripped over the wastebasket one last time, and rushed out with her dignity almost intact.

  “Gina, wait.”

  “It’s Dena!” she huffed as she rushed out toting her supplies and her smashed ego along with her.

  CHANDLER STARED AT the retreating woman. What had he said wrong? There was no ring on her wedding finger which meant she most likely wasn’t married. A boyfriend, maybe?

  He couldn’t say for certain, but he was quite sure his company wasn’t paying her enough to refuse his generous offer, so what was the big deal?

  “Gina – uh – Dena,” whoever you are, “wait,” he called but it was too late, she was gone. He slumped back into his chair. He would be the laughingstock of the weekend. Sure, no one would laugh at him to his face . . . But they would laugh.

  “Hey, buddy. How ya doing?” His partner, Max, peeked his head into the office.

  “Great.” He slapped the desk. “Just great.”

  “Chelsea bailed on you, didn’t she?”

  Max was Chandler’s best friend. They’d been buddies for as long as he could remember. Max’s childhood had been a rough one. With an abusive drunk for a father and a mother that passed away from cancer when he was still young, Max spent more time between Chandler and Chelsea’s homes than his own. Chandler’s father was no better than Max’s, but his mom had been the sturdy root that kept him and Max grounded.

  “You know it. Now, what am I going to do?”

  “Well, there is Selene. She’s been jonesing on you for years. No pun intended.”

  Chandler grimaced. “An entire weekend with Selene, the control queen? I think not.”

  “What about Janelle? She’s―”

  “No thanks, dude. I’m not settling for your sloppy seconds.”

  “Hey, I’m offended. Janelle and I never had a thing.”

  “Max Cromwell, you have had a ‘thing’ with just about every girl in LA.”

  Max had the gall to blush. “Hey.” He threw up a hand. “I can’t help it if the chicks dig me.”

  Chandler rolled his eyes. Max had been a player all his life. Even as young as seven, he was luring young unsuspecting girls behind the elementary school just to get a look at their panties.

  During his high school years, Max fell in with the party crowd and used alcohol as a means to drown out the depression that lurked just beneath the surface. He stayed in a constant state of drunkenness until Chandler found him lying in a pool of his own vomit and got him into a rehab facility. Max was now seven years clean.

  “I am so desperate, man. I just made a fool of myself with the cleaning lady.”

  “What do you― wait, you asked out the cleaning lady? She’s hot, dude. I’d―”

  “Don’t finish what you were about to say. I’m getting a bad visual.”

  “Seriously man, Dena is a bombshell. I’ve been hitting on her for years.

  “You know her name?”

  “You don’t?”

  The two stared at each other for several moments before Chandler broke the silence. “I offered to pay her.”

  “Pay her? Aw, come on, man. You can’t just―”

  “I know. I know. I wasn’t thinking. When Chelsea said she couldn’t go, I got desperate. I really wanted to show Chelsea I didn’t need her, and that she could go visit her mother without worry, but―”

  “You screwed that one up big time, dude.”

  He had. What was he thinking offering the girl ten thousand dollars to spend the weekend with him? Hadn’t his mother taught him better than to offer a woman money in exchange for services?

  “Yeah. I guess I did.” Chandler picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts. Nothing. He put it back on the table. “Guess I’m going alone.”

  Chapter 3

  “That man has a whole lot of nerve in that big fat head of his,” Dena huffed, pulled off her apron and threw it at the cleaning cart. It missed and fell to the floor. She snatched it up and tried again. “Who does he think I am, offering me money to be his . . . his . . . do I look like some kind of call girl?” Her hands shook uncontrollably as she pushed the cart down the long hallway that led to the supply closet.

  Along the way, a row of pictures caught her attention. The same ones she passed several times each day but never stopped to take the time to look at. Chandler Jones, Mr. High and Mighty himself, all dressed up in his ten-thousand-dollar Armani suit, his light brown hair slicked back and those pearly white, perfectly aligned teeth smiling down on anyone who dared stop to adore him. Next, to him, an older, more refined man stood, encased in a matching gold frame. Clifton Jones, billionaire, gone bankrupt, stood looking just as dapper and arrogant with his Rolex watch that glimmered below his equally expensive duds.

  “I bet you knew better than to offer a lady money for services,” she said to the tall, handsome man hovering over her. Clifton Jones was a womanizer. Even she knew that. She’d never noticed that kind of behavior in Chandler, and you could learn a lot by cleaning a man’s office. But as the saying went, the fruit didn’t fall far from the tree. He’d certainly proved that theory.

  But as she stomped off to the supply closet, the idea of a weekend at a five-star resort was beginning to appeal to her. Day spas, swimming pools, lounging in the sun, catching a tan. When would she ever be able to afford something like that on her own?

  Never.

  And ten thousand dollars would sure help her get back on the right side of her money. After throwing everything she had into that broken-down b
ucket of bolts, she could use some of it to get herself a nice second-hand car.

  “No. I told him my mom was sick,” the familiar uppity voice echoed from somewhere off in the distance.

  Dena turned. It was Chelsea. She’d know that condescending tone anywhere. Being the curious person she was, she stopped to listen. Clifton Jones wasn't very talkative at the moment, anyway.

  “Yes. Of course, we’re still on. How could I give up an entire weekend with Howard Rich? Not even Chandler could keep me away from him.”

  Dena threw a hand to her mouth. “Why that little―” She was too good a girl to use the expletive that popped into her head.

  “Yes, she is really sick. Cancer. The doctor says she only has ―”

  Dena couldn’t listen to another word. The girl was even more despicable than she’d thought. Dena left her cart right there in the middle of the hallway and rushed back to the elevator. With a shaky hand, she pushed the up button. Still not sure what she intended to do once she got to the sixth floor, she hit the button a couple more times and waited impatiently for the door to open.

  “I know, Jeanette. I’ll visit her next weekend.” The voice came closer. “She’ll be fine.”

  She didn’t want Chelsea to see her eavesdropping in on her conversation. If the girl found out Dena knew about her lying to Chandler, she’d probably flip her lid. In Chelsea’s dog eat dog world, this piece of juicy tidbit could spread like wildfire if the wrong person overheard.

  She pressed the buttons several more time, but the elevator must have been somewhere else catering to someone not nearly as frantic as she.

  She looked back. No sight of Chelsea yet. Come on door, come on.

  When finally, it opened, Dena glanced back to be sure she Chelsea was not lurking around and rushed inside the elevator. She ran smack dab into what felt like a brick wall. The scent of musky cologne assaulted her senses immediately. As gravity would have it, she fell back but was caught when the arms of Chandler Jones wrapped around her waist.

  “Whoa there.” He steadied her before she fell for the second time in as many hours in front of the same man.

  She pulled away from him and took several steps back. “I . . . uh . . . have a . . .” She turned to run.

  “Dena, wait.”

  Had he said her name correctly? She stopped and turned to meet his eyes.

  “I want to apologize for my actions. Would you have dinner with me?”

  She stared at him for a long moment. “Me?” she asked again making a complete fool of herself. Of course, he was talking to her. Still. Why?

  “Please? I would like to make it up to you. I was out of line back there in my office and―”

  “But I still have―” your office to vacuum. That was it. She’d done everything else.

  “It can wait. Can’t it?”

  As he stared at her, waiting for an answer, the reason she’d gone running back up to his office entered her mind in a whirlwind of activity. Chelsea. Had she really planned on ratting the girl out? She hadn’t had a chance to think it through before rushing to the elevator. Dena had made an impulse decision she hoped she’d have evaluated before reaching his office.

  Get a grip, girl. It’s none of your business. What did it have to do with her if the perfect, made for television, billionaire couple had a falling out or not? Or that Chelsea was lying to him about going to see another man instead of her dying mother.

  But the way she saw it after he’d insulted her femininity, she at least deserved a nice dinner and a chance to tell him a bit about himself.

  “Dena?” he asked. “Dinner?”

  “Okay.”

  His eyebrows raised and she wondered if he might have considered groveling if her answer had been no. Maybe she should have held out a little longer.

  “Really? You will?”

  How a man with so much money could be so hard up for company was beyond her. “Sure. Why not. Just don’t tell my boss.”

  “Your boss ―” He tipped his head sideways and stared for a moment. Then as if getting her joke, he chuckled. “Oh, right.” He pulled a finger across his lips. “My lips are sealed.”

  He was her boss. Jones Savings and Loan did not hire from the outside. Each and every employee, from the janitorial services to the cafeteria workers, were employed directly by the company. It was one of the reasons she’d applied for the job. Anonymity.

  He pulled out his cell phone, pushed a button and placed the phone to his ear. “Bring the car around, please,” he said and disconnected the call. He turned to Dena. “Come on, I know just the place.”

  He put an elbow out for her to take and a thought occurred to her. “I’m not dressed for anything nice.” Not to mention the strong scent of stale coffee grounds that emanated from her stained uniform. No wonder they packed drugs in the stuff. Not that she knew. She’d only seen it on television.

  “Why don’t we go to Cocos. You’ll fit right in.” He smirked.

  Coco’s was a coffee bar in the better part of Los Angeles. She’d never actually been in the place. Fifteen bucks for a cup of coffee was not in her personal spending budget. But if he was paying . . .

  She nodded and followed him out of the building.

  The ten thousand dollars hung around in the back of her mind, popping up every so often to remind her just how broke she was. She sure could use a new car.

  Don’t even think about it, Dena. You’re a good girl. Her mother’s voice rang in her head. And good girls don’t accept offers to spend time with a man. Rich or not. Her mother would balk at the idea of her spending a weekend with a man at all, let alone for ― money. And still - visions of sugarplums danced in her head. Get a hold of yourself, Dena.

  As the long white stretch limo reached the front of the building, Dena couldn’t help the pounding of her heart. She wasn’t sure if it was the excitement of riding in the fancy car or the thought of being inside it with Chandler Jones that made her heart pump wildly. Either way, it took her breath away.

  AS CHANDLER WATCHED the woman who sat beside him, his adrenaline spiked. He had never found himself so befuddled around a woman before. What was it about this particular one that made his brain go mush? She wasn’t even his type.

  “What do you think?” he asked as he watched her. “You like it?”

  He could tell by the way her eyes roved from one thing to another that she was in awe. He knew absolutely nothing about the woman, but the excitement in her eyes as they wandered from the leather seats to the flat screen television and then over to the mini refrigerator bar told him all he needed to know. She’d never been inside a limousine. Of course not. She was the cleaning lady for goodness sakes.

  “It’s wild,” she said, her eyes as big as coconuts. “What do you need all of this stuff for?”

  “Sometimes I go out of town on business trips. It’s good to have a bit of entertainment. On extra-long trips, I can sleep right here in the vehicle if I want. This folds out into a bed. You want to see?”

  “No!” She slammed her hand to the seat as if to stop him from opening it.

  He chuckled. “Okay, okay.”

  The look of horror that had flashed across her face was comical. It wasn’t as if he’d asked her to sleep with him.

  “Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  Her face flushed. He really needed to stop offending the poor girl. And if he were going to get her to go with him to his weekend conference, he would have to stop making her think he was trying to seduce her or hire her for escort services.

  “Here we are,” the driver said as he pulled up to the curb in front of Cocos. “I’ll be right around the corner, call me when you’re ready.”

  Boss had been his driver for so long he didn’t even know the guy's real name. He was a quiet man who oversaw a dozen or so employees in Chandler’s transportation department. He’d called him Boss that one time, and it just stuck.

  “Thanks, Boss,” Chandler said.

  Chandler got out,
held the door for Dena, and they made their way into the coffee shop. His mind scrambled to find the words to convince her to go to the conference with him. It was his last chance, if she didn’t agree, he’d have to go alone. He didn’t have the option of bowing out, he was a guest speaker. And there was no way he was taking Max’s final suggestion of hiring a girl from an actual escort service. That was a scandal waiting to happen. And after cleaning up his father’s mess, he had no plans to make one of his own.

  He led Dena to a table in the back, and the two of them looked over the menu while waiting for their barista.

  As a coffee bar, the only liquor served in the place was the Irish blend coffee that came with a shot of whiskey. After the death of his alcoholic, abusive father, he stayed away from spirits of any kind. Not even in his coffee. He’d brought Jones Savings and Loan back up after the old man ran it into the ground with his gambling, drinking and sexual escapades. The mere thought of it made his jaw clench. And if his father’s scandal wasn’t reason enough to keep away from alcohol, having to watch his good buddy, Max be completely destroyed by the stuff was enough to make him a teetotaler.

  A red-headed, gum smacking barista strolled up to the table. “What can I get for the two of you?” she asked paying particular attention to the stain that ran down the front of Dena’s pants.

  Taking care to be a complete gentleman, Chandler nodded for Dena to go first. He was pleased with his manners so far.

  Dena looked up from her menu, smiled at Chandler, then turned to the barista. “I’ll have the Double Mocha Frappuccino with heavy cream, light on the caramel and heavy on the mocha sauce. And uhhh . . . Oh, here we go . . .” She pointed to a spot on her menu. “I’ll take two chocolate chip muffins topped with whipped cream and drizzled with chocolate sauce.”

  The barista stared at Dena for a moment as if trying to figure out if she was the butt of some kind of awful joke but when Dena smiled, the girl shrugged and wrote down the order. Then with a smack of her gum, she turned to Chandler. “And for you, sir?”