Read Bedding The Billionaire for Free Online

the
split in her skirt. It didn't matter, the table cloth was floor length and
covered everything from the waist down anyway.
    As if suddenly realizing, Abbey's hand returned to the
tabletop and she clasped her fingers together, placing her elbows on the table
and resting her chin on her knuckles. Trying to cover her breasts?
    Had he made her feel that self-conscious? Impossible. Hookers
didn't get uncomfortable in revealing outfits.
    He sipped his wine, swirling it around his palette
before swallowing. A nice vintage. He wondered whether Abbey had taken pot luck
when she ordered it, or whether she actually knew a good wine from a bad one
without a price tag to check. In reality, it was probably neither. No doubt
she'd asked the waiter before she ordered.
    "Nice wine," he said, wanting to fill the
silence.
    "It's one of my favorites. I always order
it—" She stopped and glanced away.
    Another awkward silence stretched between them, and Nick
suddenly regretted coming. Sex was one thing, but making small talk with a
woman he barely knew was awful. He'd much rather skip this part of the evening.
    "How was your conference?" Abbey asked with
a polite smile.
    "How did you know about that?"
    She shrugged. "They told me."
    "They?"
    "Hotel management. You know, complementary
massage and all that. I asked what you're here for and they said a software
conference at the Crown Complex."
    "Seminar," Nick corrected. So she was going
to stick with the free massage story. Fine, he could play along.
    "So you're a salesman for a software firm. How
exciting."
    She was a terrible actress. Her eyes glazed over in
boredom when she said the words salesman and software. He couldn't blame her — it
did sound dull.
    But it irritated him that she thought he was just a
salesman, working for just another software company. Not the owner and CEO of
the most prestigious and lucrative technology firm in the entire southern
hemisphere.
    It irritated him even more that he couldn't tell her
the truth either. She thought he was Damien Vane. The hotel thought he was
Damien Vane. The potential clients at the seminar thought he was Damien Vane.
    He'd decided before he left Sydney that he couldn't
tell anyone the truth. It could ruin his chances of selling the software. The
clients were ruthless, and they knew Vane was one of the greatest marketing
geniuses in the software industry. He'd been in software for twenty years, a
long time in this rapidly changing business. He had a stellar reputation.
    Nick Delaware had no marketing experience and no
software experience. He was an investor who injected money and business acumen
into financially struggling companies with loads of potential then sold them
for huge profits. As far as the seminar attendees were concerned, Nick Delaware
knew nothing about software. They'd be insulted if an investor — albeit
a good one — was trying to sell them a solution to their data
warehousing problems. They wouldn't touch Software Solutions' application with
a barge pole if Nick Delaware was trying to sell it to them, but with Damien
Vane up there on the podium conducting demonstrations, they would lap it up.
    And they were. So far everyone assumed he was Vane. These
men and women were I.T. professionals at heart who got a kick out of the latest
technology. They sat at their computers most days; they didn't move in the
circles he moved in, and they'd never met Vane, an American. Nick was media
shy, preferring not to have photos of himself taken, even for the website. None
of the attendees would ever know about the switch.
    As soon as he got back to Sydney he was going to fire
Vane, replace him with a tee-totaling celibate. He was slipping anyway, an
unreliable has been. Still no one outside Software Solutions would know that it
was the company's owner who'd done the demonstrations.
    "Actually I'm the Vice President of
Marketing."
    Abbey nodded. "Right. Very impressive. So it all
went well today?"
    Nick nodded then caught himself. He