Dreaming of the Billionaire by Alice Bright Page B

little action? 'Cause judging by the way sparks are tingly around us, I could definitely make that happen.
     
    “What do you do here, Violet Nielson?” He asks me, dropping my hand. I try not to sigh as he returns it to his side. His eye contact is perfect. For a moment, I wonder why he's not lingering on the way my dress clings to my natural D-cups.
     
    “I’m the webmaster,” I tell him, trying not to worry about it. There's no way this guy can't be attracted to me. He's smiling at me, for one. He struck up the conversation with me. And, oh yeah, I look amazing.
     
    “Ah, so you’re the genius behind the new social media pages for the school?”
     
    Suddenly, all thoughts of my appearance vanish into thin air as he brings up something that's critically important to me: the pages I've spent months working on. He’s seen them?
     
    I look at him quizzically, mostly because I don't think anyone really notices how much effort and work I pour into creating matching, coordinated, and regularly updated social media platforms for the campus.
     
    “You’ve seen them?” I ask aloud.
     
    “I have,” he tells me. “I was very impressed by them.”
     
    I feel myself blush from the tips of my toes to the ends of my bright-blue hair. I bite my lip, forgetting for a second about the cookie in my hand or about my recent bout of donor-luncheon boredom. Sean is one of the most handsome men I’ve ever laid eyes on. “Handsome” doesn’t seem like a strong enough word. His green eyes are positively piercing me as I oogle him.
     
    Oh, the things I could do to him.
     
    “What made you decide to check out our pages?” I ask him, trying not to wonder how big his dick is or whether he knows how to use it. This isn't the time or place, I remind myself. Sean is obviously a businessman of some sort. I don’t recognize his last name, but that doesn’t mean anything. Most of our donors are businesses and companies. While there are certainly alumni present at the luncheon, there are also a lot of company reps.
     
    “My father is usually the one who comes to these things, but he couldn’t make it. He had a last minute conflict, so he asked me to step in. I didn’t know much about Southvale, so I thought I’d do a little bit of research before I came out.” He flashes me a smile again, “Wouldn’t want to embarrass myself while I’m here.”
     
    “And did you find anything in your time researching that interested you?” I ask, feeling my knees buckle at that smile. It’s been way too long since I was around a guy this hot. Nothing against my tech-support colleagues, but they’re called nerds for a reason.
     
    “I found out that the webmaster is a lot hotter than most of the I.T. personnel I’m used to dealing with.” He winks at me as he heads back toward the double doors that lead into the banquet hall. “I’d better get back before I’m missed,” he tells me. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Nielson.”
     
    “Mr. Moormead,” I nod.
     
    “Sean,” he tells me.
     
    “Sean.”
     
    He heads back inside and I can’t do anything but stare at the half-eaten cookie in my hand. I feel my heart racing as I try to get over the feelings that are burning up inside of me.
     
    There’s too much to deal with in my life right now. The last thing that I need to do is start crushing on a guy I’ll never see again. I mentally tell myself not to obsess. After the banquet, I will not Google or Facebook this guy. I won’t look him up on Twitter. I won’t try to find out if he’s single.
     
    I’ll just let it go.
     
    Sometimes a meeting is just a meeting.
     
    But sometimes it’s so much more.
     

3.
     
    “I can’t stop throwing up.”
     
    Amy is sprawled across the bathroom floor, bringing back visions of her early years in college when she came home from her first party. This time, though, she’s not hung over from drinking too much. This time she’s experiencing the worst morning sickness of