The Billionaire's Pledge (2 page)

Oh. Holy. Shit. 

Holy. Fucking. God.

All his emails were like that—semi-illiterate ramblings with typos and mistakes and weird repeated words. Just reading them made Savannah’s brain hurt. “Carrion pigeon”? “You’re way”? But this one…this was bad. She read it twice more. What the fuck? He was coming out here? To Hood River? In two weeks?

This can’t be happening. I’m living inside the day from hell.

Her heart raced and a drip of sweat ran down her forehead onto her cheek. She wiped it off and took a long slurp of the latte. Goddamn decaf! Just when she wanted some caffeine, a little drug to take the edge off.

She tried deep breathing to keep calm, but after a couple of minutes it didn’t seem to be doing any good. She felt her eyes beginning to burn, but she held back the tears of frustration. Finally she whipped out her phone and called her best friend Alicia back in New York.

“Hey, Vanna! What’s up?” Savannah wasn’t hyper-fond of the nickname “Vanna,” but it had stuck and she figured it was better than no nickname at all.

“Hey, listen,” she said. “I’m having a day from hell. I need your infinite moral support.”

“Lean on me! What’s up? Should we do FaceTime?”

“Sure,” Savannah said, tapping her phone and holding it a comfortable distance away. A moment later, Alicia’s face appeared on the screen, her mouth pursed into a giant pouty frown of sympathy. She appeared to be in her bathroom. Her brown hair looked almost black in the dim light.

“You look terrible!” Alicia said.

Savannah did a little eye-roll. “Aaaaand…I’m officially cheered up now. Yay! I feel so much better.”

“Sorry, I was kidding.”

“Oh, sure. You say that
now
.”

“So what’s up? What’s so terrible?”

“God, Alicia—hey, have you heard from Charles? Has he called you or anything? Have you seen him?”

“Not really.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Whenever Alicia was being evasive, it always meant she was lying or hiding the truth.

“It means I haven’t talked to him,” Alicia said.

“But you
saw
him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Who cares? It’s been ages. What’s going on?”

“Did he come in?”

“Vanna—”

“Just—”

“Yes, he came in,” Alicia said. “I saw him. Julie cut his hair, I just kind of ignored him.”

“How’d he look?”

“What do you care?”

“Alicia, he’s coming out here. In like two weeks. Are you sure he didn’t say anything?”

Alicia looked genuinely shocked. “Of course I’m sure. I didn’t even talk to him.”

“Well, that doesn’t help. Will you tell me if you hear anything? Like, what he’s up to? I don’t really care, it’s just…I don’t know…”

Alicia now appeared to be attempting to look into her own ear in the bathroom mirror. Apparently there was something intriguing inside the waxy canal. “He’s flying out to Portland?” she asked.

“Yes. Here. To
Hood River
.”

“Jesus. Maybe I can stop him.” 

“I doubt it,” Savannah said. “You know how he is.”

Alicia took a drink of water from a plastic cup. “Mmm-hmm.”

“Plus my mom wants that fifty grand.”

Alicia explosively blew out the mouthful of water all over the mirror. “Fucking shit! Motherfucker!”

“Exactly.”

“You don’t have that kind of moolah.”

“Nope. Not even.”

“Just tell your mom the truth. Lovely woman. She’ll understand.”

“She won’t. I mean, they need the money. Like,
really
need it. For medical bills and stuff.”

Alicia looked suddenly panicked. “Vanna, I gotta go. I’m late right now. Call me tomorrow, okay? Love you like a sister!”

“You too. Catch you later.”

Savannah hung up, put the phone on her desk, and took a drink of the latte. She clicked off Charles’s email so she wouldn’t have to see his crazy words anymore. Talking to Alicia hadn’t really helped. Well, maybe a little. Maybe she felt a tad better. But Alicia couldn’t solve any of her problems. She had to figure those out on her own.

Just then the door opened—
ding-a-ling-ling!
—and Savannah was so startled she almost fell out of her chair. Drops of latte shot out of the narrow opening in the cup lid and landed on her pants in an array of dark little dots. She spun toward the door to see who the hell had caused her to ruin her pants.

A man came in and closed the door behind him with great care so that it wouldn’t re-open or slam shut. She’d never seen anyone do that before. He wore a beautiful white dress shirt, the kind that mysteriously glowed and fit in such a way that it could only have come from a custom tailor in Italy. His gray wool slacks had the same air of exclusive construction and expensive fabric. He looked a bit like a
GQ
model, or maybe
Esquire
. Except he was a bit older, probably in his mid 30s. The cut of his shirt and careful tailoring of his pants revealed a body most men would give their little toe for: V-shaped, tall, with a hint of power under the fabric of his clothes.

There was a wind-blown look about his short brown hair, probably from the never-ending Hood River breeze.

For the second time in five minutes, Savannah thought:
What the fuck?

It was the man from the coffee shop. And he was gorgeous. An incredible warmth washed over her body; her stomach twisted with nerves.

But what was he doing here? Who was he, and seriously—why did she recognize him?

CHAPTER 3

“Hello,” the man said before Savannah could manage to speak. He held himself with great confidence, and looked her directly in the eyes. There was a faint smile on his face, and the look instantly reminded her of George Clooney.

She was so surprised to see this man from the coffee shop that at first she sat frozen in place and stared at him. It was bizarre. Had he followed her? Was it some kind of crazy coincidence? Perhaps she had dropped something—pen? lipstick? glass slipper?—and now he had tracked her down to return it. What would he look like without that shirt on? Did he have any tattoos? Was he a good kisser?

All these thoughts ran through her mind in a fraction of a second, more as feelings than complete sentences. 

When she’d recovered from the shock, she blinked and said, “Hi, can I help you?” 

She set down her cup and brushed her pants where the drops of latte had landed, but of course it did no good and only made her look like an idiot. She stopped it at once and crossed her legs, feeling self-conscious, not sure if she should get up and shake his hand. After a few seconds, it was too late to get up, and so she stayed seated.

“I hope you can,” he said. Now he glanced around a bit, taking in her computer setup, whiteboard, work table, and the rest of the small space. Everything was cheap and worn and probably looked terrible to a man of his obvious wealth and taste. Yet his expression was neutral, or even one of admiration.

Savannah opened her mouth but couldn’t think of anything to say. Sales was definitely her weak point. She supposed that if it had been her strong point, she would probably be succeeding in this business instead of getting ready to go bankrupt and wondering if she could afford the ticket back to New York so she could live with her parents.

Luckily the man seemed perfectly happy continuing to talk without any prompting.

“I’m looking for a website,” he said in a voice like a Barry White song. “I’m up from San Francisco for a while, and I’m doing a real-estate deal and we’re going to need a marketing site, online brochure, opt-in mailing list, Facebook presence, photo shoot, the whole deal. You know the drill, I’m sure.” Again he flashed the little George Clooney smile. 

“Uh…of course,” she said, finally coming out of the strange trance that had held her since he walked in the door. “That’s what we do. What
I
do. I mean, what the company does. All that stuff.”

Secretly, she wondered why he had come to
her
and not used a firm down in the Bay Area. After all, he looked like a successful businessman and he knew what he needed. He must have a company he used often.

“Sounds like we’re in business then,” he said, running a hand casually through his hair. It instantly fell back into place as she’d seen it in the coffee shop. “I’m Zac, by the way. I didn’t catch your name?”

He extended his hand. She stood and took it in hers, feeling the softness of his palm and fingers, the strength of his grip that emanated down through his forearm. She was amazed at how he tightened his hand with such precision—firm but not painful. Her heart beat a bit faster at the skin-to-skin contact with such a man. She inhaled as another flash of heat passed through her like a wave.

It was a bit odd that a man in a suit didn’t give his last name, but she shrugged it off. It was typical for people to be ultra-casual in Hood River, and maybe he’d picked up that vibe. “Savannah LaMont. Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” he said while giving her a curious look with his brilliant blue eyes. She couldn’t tell if it was flirting or something else, but again she wondered if they had met before. There was something so familiar about him, as if she’d recently seen his twin brother on television.

She wanted to keep touching his hand, but reluctantly she dropped it. “I’m confused, though,” she blurted out without thinking. “Are you hiring me? I mean, for sure? Have you looked at my portfolio? I haven’t even given you a quote or a proposal. The price can really vary, it can range—”

He waved his hand and smiled, showing the kind of grin that could light up a movie screen. “No worries! We’ll sort all that out. I’m not worried about the price. It costs what it costs. I have a sense of all that. And I didn’t need to look at your site because I was referred to you.”

She frowned in confusion. Normally she would have heard from one of her customers if they had given her a referral. And she’d had so little work since moving to Hood River that she was dying to know which of her few clients had been so helpful. She would have to thank them for their kindness.

“Referred?” she said. “By who?”

He offered a sly version of the smile. “Oh, the lady back at the coffee shop…Elaine, I think her name was? Said you did websites. Said you were
very
good at it. Said I just had to meet you, and made me promise to come right over.” He paused, letting this sink in. Then he said, “She also said you’re a hell of a kiteboarder and skier and hiker and a bunch of other things, and that I should ask you to lunch
and
dinner
and
drinks and try to get to know you before the secret is out and half the town converges on your door. Whew!”

CHAPTER 4

Zachary Cushman found it deeply refreshing to talk with someone as real and disarming as the lady who now stood before him in the little web-design shop. Savannah, she’d said her name was. The woman at the coffee shop really
had
said all those things about her. It had all seemed like a silly exaggeration, but so far her appraisal of Savannah had been spot on.

He couldn’t tell if she really kicked butt at kiteboarding and skiing and every other dangerous sport, but with any luck he’d be able to find out soon. He loved getting outside and pushing his body to the limits. He’d done just about everything there was to do, except for jumping off a cliff in a wing suit. He didn’t have a death wish.

He wasn’t sure why he’d lied about not looking at her website and portfolio. He’d kind of meant it as a joke, but it seemed like she believed him.
Of course
he’d checked out her site; he’d reviewed it on his iPad during the brief stroll from the coffee shop.

She did amazing work. Some of the best he’d seen, actually. He was curious why she’d set up a shabby storefront in this quaint little windsurfing town. There was something incredibly mysterious and intriguing about this woman. Savannah LaMont. Strange name. What was her story? And just like the question of her athleticism, he intended to find out for himself.

At 34, he’d spent many years around self-important gasbags and other arrogant pricks in Silicon Valley, all chasing the next big thing while talking out of both sides of their mouths.

He’d had enough of that inane bullshit.

“Elaine sent you over?” Savannah said, bringing Zachary out of his daydreaming. “God love her. But you really should see my portfolio before you hire me.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Zachary said, trying not to laugh. “I guarantee you. One hundred percent. And I always keep my word.”

There was something extremely appealing about this woman, Zachary noticed. For one thing, the very fact that she’d produced the work he’d just reviewed made her attractive to him. Skills and talents and hard work were things he valued greatly, and in some cases they were even a turn-on.

But it was more than that, he realized. There was a physical attraction, too, something he’d felt the moment he’d walked in. She looked fit and strong, and he’d always had a thing for women like that. Her face was sweet and cute, with a small nose and full lips that turned up a little and glimmered as she talked. She didn’t look like the models he’d dated before…more like the girl next door.

He wanted to get to know her better. He decided to talk a little more business and see how it went. Maybe he’d have the chance for a more casual get-together.

“I’m actually building two projects here in town. One is a little live-work enclave. Condos above, storefronts below, walkable streets, paths, a park. Mixed-use. You’ve probably seen them in Portland.”

She seemed to know what he was talking about. She nodded and flashed a shy smile, and he couldn’t help but smile back in return.

“Well,” he said, “and the other development is a small industrial park on the other side of town. With Google and the others being here, I think things are really poised to take off.”