Rendezvous in the Clouds: Billionaire Boss Office Romance (Hunter's Catch) by Fiona Wells
Authors: Fiona Wells
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The first time I saw Nick Hunter, I knew what I would tell our future children. “Kids, I fell in love with your father before he even turned around.”
There was something about just the way that he stood, staring out the floor-to-ceiling window of his fancy Park Avenue corner office that sent a bolt of recognition through me like lightning before we were even introduced. It would not have surprised me in the least if he had looked over his shoulder and said, “Oh, it's you, at last.” That's certainly how I felt.
And that's totally not what happened.
“ Nick, meet your assistant, Sarah Carter,” the head of HR said as she led me into the room to meet my boss, the new owner and CEO of MGV, Marksmen Global Ventures.
“Hello, Mr. Hunter,” my voice was suddenly high and tight in my throat as I held out my hand for him to shake. He slowly turned and it was all I could do to not say out loud, “Dammmnnn.”
It wasn’t just because he was gorgeous or that the suit he wore looked expensive enough to pay off all of my student loans. It was the raw, animalistic sensuality he exuded, like a panther waiting patiently in a tree for his next meal. All the girls in the office had been twittering about his arrival for a month. They said he was given the title of Manhattan’s Most Eligible Bachelor in one of those gossip rags they loved to pass around on their lunch breaks.
“Yeah, so can anyone who has a good enough publicist,” I sniffed. I have a rep for being the office smartass. Not exactly unearned, I guess. But now, looking at him, it was easy to see why Nick Hunter was chosen out of all the billionaire playboys and Masters of the Universe who run this town.
He towered over me. Well, anyone does as I’m only 5’4”, but he was over six feet of sleek, hard muscle. His jawline looked like it was carved from marble and his eyes were a startling mix of colors, combining the dusky charcoal of smoke that lingers closest to the flame and the lighter, sensual blue haze that hangs in the air from a cigarette.
His hair was long for a corporate guy. Thick, glossy curls of bittersweet chocolate grazed his collar, making him look more like a brooding poet or a rock star than an American billionaire venture capitalist. I flushed as an appraising look traveled across his face when he took my hand, as if he already knew what I looked like naked. The logical part of my brain tacked up a ‘Gone Fishing’ sign and closed down as I stared at the perfect specimen of red-blooded masculinity before me.
“Hello, Sarah. Call me Nick, please,” he was just being polite, but his deep velvety rumble of a voice thrilled me. Hell, he could have insulted my mother and I would have shivered with delight. His gaze locked with mine. Slowly, he released my hand. My palm tingled from his touch.
I realized I was holding my breath and took an involuntarily deep and audible gulp of air that sounded as loud in the quiet room as a sonic boom. Flames of embarrassment licked my cheeks as I tried to cover by clearing my throat. Still, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his face.
Just being next to him made me feel like it was the first day of summer vacation, my first moment of sexual awakening (seeing a poster at thirteen of Michael Hutchence of INXS on my older sister’s wall) and jumping out of an airplane without a parachute all at the same time.
“Okay…Nick. Thank you. I look forward to working for you,” I managed to say without further humiliation.
“Well, Jenny here,” he said, indicating the grandmotherly human resources lady next to me whose face flushed with pleasure from his attention, “said you’re the best admin assistant, even though you’ve been with the company, what, a year?”
“A year and a half, sir. I mean, Nick.”
He smiled. His eyes gleamed and I melted like an ice cream cone in August.
“I believe in promoting from within the company,
There was something about just the way that he stood, staring out the floor-to-ceiling window of his fancy Park Avenue corner office that sent a bolt of recognition through me like lightning before we were even introduced. It would not have surprised me in the least if he had looked over his shoulder and said, “Oh, it's you, at last.” That's certainly how I felt.
And that's totally not what happened.
“ Nick, meet your assistant, Sarah Carter,” the head of HR said as she led me into the room to meet my boss, the new owner and CEO of MGV, Marksmen Global Ventures.
“Hello, Mr. Hunter,” my voice was suddenly high and tight in my throat as I held out my hand for him to shake. He slowly turned and it was all I could do to not say out loud, “Dammmnnn.”
It wasn’t just because he was gorgeous or that the suit he wore looked expensive enough to pay off all of my student loans. It was the raw, animalistic sensuality he exuded, like a panther waiting patiently in a tree for his next meal. All the girls in the office had been twittering about his arrival for a month. They said he was given the title of Manhattan’s Most Eligible Bachelor in one of those gossip rags they loved to pass around on their lunch breaks.
“Yeah, so can anyone who has a good enough publicist,” I sniffed. I have a rep for being the office smartass. Not exactly unearned, I guess. But now, looking at him, it was easy to see why Nick Hunter was chosen out of all the billionaire playboys and Masters of the Universe who run this town.
He towered over me. Well, anyone does as I’m only 5’4”, but he was over six feet of sleek, hard muscle. His jawline looked like it was carved from marble and his eyes were a startling mix of colors, combining the dusky charcoal of smoke that lingers closest to the flame and the lighter, sensual blue haze that hangs in the air from a cigarette.
His hair was long for a corporate guy. Thick, glossy curls of bittersweet chocolate grazed his collar, making him look more like a brooding poet or a rock star than an American billionaire venture capitalist. I flushed as an appraising look traveled across his face when he took my hand, as if he already knew what I looked like naked. The logical part of my brain tacked up a ‘Gone Fishing’ sign and closed down as I stared at the perfect specimen of red-blooded masculinity before me.
“Hello, Sarah. Call me Nick, please,” he was just being polite, but his deep velvety rumble of a voice thrilled me. Hell, he could have insulted my mother and I would have shivered with delight. His gaze locked with mine. Slowly, he released my hand. My palm tingled from his touch.
I realized I was holding my breath and took an involuntarily deep and audible gulp of air that sounded as loud in the quiet room as a sonic boom. Flames of embarrassment licked my cheeks as I tried to cover by clearing my throat. Still, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his face.
Just being next to him made me feel like it was the first day of summer vacation, my first moment of sexual awakening (seeing a poster at thirteen of Michael Hutchence of INXS on my older sister’s wall) and jumping out of an airplane without a parachute all at the same time.
“Okay…Nick. Thank you. I look forward to working for you,” I managed to say without further humiliation.
“Well, Jenny here,” he said, indicating the grandmotherly human resources lady next to me whose face flushed with pleasure from his attention, “said you’re the best admin assistant, even though you’ve been with the company, what, a year?”
“A year and a half, sir. I mean, Nick.”
He smiled. His eyes gleamed and I melted like an ice cream cone in August.
“I believe in promoting from within the company,
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