The Bishop Affair (Dominated by the Billionaire Brothers - Part Four) (4 page)

“Far too many women?” I
raised an eyebrow.

Jordan bit his lip as if he
let some personal secret slip inadvertently. “Now that’s a conversation we
shouldn’t have. I’m trying to be honest with you so you can understand what
happened back there, but rehashing my dating past is bad news and makes me look
awful.”

My mind raced back to my
first day at Bishop Corp, when Susan had joked that part of my duties as
personal assistant to the brothers would be beating women off with a stick.
Unfortunately, that remark was looking less and less like a joke.

“Okay, we don’t have to talk
about it,” I said, half-grateful, half-remorseful for his honesty so far. “But
there’s something I’m still confused about that’s been bugging me. Yesterday at
the mall, Vanessa said something about ‘another assistant.’ ”

Jordan nodded grimly. “She
was talking about Emily.” He winced at the sound of her name. “My previous
personal assistant. She was mine—that is, Trevor said he didn’t need a personal
assistant.”

I wondered what the story
had been there, but Jordan waved his hand tiredly.

“I’m sure you’re probably
curious about your predecessor, but that’s a story I don’t feel up to telling.”
He leaned back, studying the sea, before looking up at me. “Suffice it to say
that her tenure at Bishop Corp. ended messily with lessons learned.”

“Messy ending?” Was Jordan
involved with her, too?

Jordan reached up for my
left hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it. “You’re nothing like her,
Lori.” He stared deep into my eyes. “I promise you that. Her mess had more to
do with the business than anything else. I don’t really want to get into it
because I don’t want to get you involved in the drama.”

It sounded like the mess
with Emily was still an ongoing thing, which heightened my worries.

Jordan let go of my hand and
seemed to travel a far ways off even though he was still looking at me. “We
went without a personal assistant for a long time after Emily’s departure, but
the strain grew to be too much on everyone. Finally, Trevor suggested that we
share one so he could help keep tabs on her—well, you.”

Trevor was chaperoning
Jordan when it came to me? That made our current situation even more difficult.
I was worried about the necessity of Trevor looking out for Jordan. Surely he
wasn’t that clueless about women he worked with and dated...

“Are you trying to tell me
you’re a sucker for personal assistants?” I asked petulantly.

He chuckled lightly and
tilted his head up. “I’m a sucker for you.”

I forced a smile, feeling
uneasy about Jordan’s dating past, the women around him, and what it meant for
our future. Vanessa’s words at the ball came back to haunt me—“I’ve seen ‘em
all come and go”.

A strong wind whipped sand
into our faces and we both had to cover our eyes from the stinging grains.
Jordan regained his feet and took me by the arm, helping me back to the parking
lot.

“It’s cold. Let me take you
back to the hotel.”

He got up, with his jacket
in hand, dusted it off and wrapped it around my shoulders. I offered no
resistance this time, preoccupied with processing everything he told me. He
affectionately patted the sand off my dress as we walked to the parking lot.

Jordan shook hands with
George, who clapped him on the back before we climbed into the limo. I noticed
the car Jordan had commandeered to get to the beach was a purple Lamborghini.

“You’re not just going to
leave that there, are you?” I pointed to the sports car.

“It’ll be fine. I texted my
friend to tell her where to find it.”

As George revved the engine,
I couldn’t help thinking about Jordan and Vanessa’s relationship, his prolific
dating past, his former personal assistant, and even the fact that he borrowed
a female friend’s expensive car to get here. I wanted to trust him, but it was
a lot to swallow. I fidgeted in my seat beside him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked,
placing a hand on my thigh.

Being in the limo again
reminded me of how Vanessa’s kiss made me vomit. Hesitantly, I decided to tell
him about my ex. “My last relationship was with my high school sweetheart,
Eric,” I said miserably. “He cheated on me by kissing another girl at a party—that’s
why we’re not together anymore.”

His hand squeezed my leg.
“Lori, you know that kiss with Vanessa was—”

“I thought he was the one,”
I added, watching the city lights drift by just beyond the tinted glass of the
limo as I mustered the courage to tell him how I felt about us. “I—I thought
you were pretty amazing, too.”

“Lori—”

“—I know Jordan. It was
Vanessa’s fault. But still. Women throw themselves at you. And who could blame
them? I don’t think I could take seeing that again. I would absolutely break
down. I’m not sure I can even get over tonight.”

His grip tightened and his
voice came labored. “What are you saying?”

“It would be nice if we
could just go back to having a professional relationship,” I whispered,
surprised that I managed to say it. “Just Jordan Bishop, CEO, and Lori Gable,
personal assistant. I don’t think I can trust you otherwise. You’re just too
hot for your own good.”

“Look at me.” He tipped my
chin toward him with his finger. “There’s no other women. Just you. And it’s
going to stay that way. I promise.”

“I believe you.” I really
did, but I was seriously confused and being with Jordan only made things more
confusing. “I need time to think things over.”

Jordan’s tortured sigh
pained me. He opened his mouth then closed it, as if conflicted over what to
say. “If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll have,” he said finally. “I
know you need time to digest everything, so I’m not going to push. But that
doesn’t change the way I feel about you. There’s not going to be any other women
until you tell me you don’t have feelings for me.”

A ball of emotion rose in my
throat. I stared at the plush carpet unable to bear seeing his determined face
knowing that it would make me change my mind. I needed to protect myself. As
much as I craved the high I got from being on Jordan’s arm, the crash was much
worse. He had the power to ruin the appeal of all other men and that terrified
me.

I noticed that George had
stopped the limo at the drop off point of the hotel. A valet opened the door
and held his hand out for me.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured,
gripping the hand like a drowning person would latch on to someone trying to
save her life. “Let’s just be friends for now.”

***

I woke up to the bedside
phone making a horrible racket next to my face. Shielding my eyes against the
bright glare of the morning sun beaming into the thirty-fifth floor of the
Hilton, I checked the clock: 9 a.m. Sure, it might have been noon in New York,
but that still didn’t mean I was ready to wake up. I felt better than last
night, but the emotional exchange with Jordan had exhausted me. A dull pain in
my chest had kept me tossing and turning. Despite crawling into the sheets at
ten, it was at least past two in the morning when I had finally dozed off.

I reached over to the nightstand
to pick up the squawking phone, knocking over a half-empty glass of water I’d
been drinking from last night. Rolling my eyes at my hopeless clumsiness, I
answered.

“Hello?”

“It’s me, Jordan.” His smoky
voice woke me up better than a cup of coffee ever could.

I gulped, wondering what his
reaction would be after what I said to him yesterday. Once we’d arrived last
night, Jordan had booked another room for himself. I’d been grateful—as
tempting as the idea was to cuddle up in bed with him, it would’ve been too
awkward after I’d pushed him to the friend zone.

“Good morning,” I said
hesitantly.

“I remember you saying that
you’d never been to California.” His voice was cheerful.

“That’s true.”

“I was wondering if you’d
want to do a little sightseeing. See the Hollywood sign, the stars, the palm
trees. We could go anywhere you’d like.”

Jordan sounded excited,
almost like a little kid. Had he processed anything I’d told him last night?

“Anywhere I’d like?” I
repeated slowly.

“Yes, just tell me.”

I could imagine him grinning
to himself, thinking I’d come around in the morning to wanting to be with him
again and that kind of pissed me off. It wasn’t like this was easy for me.
Being without him hurt as much, if not more, than being with him. His suggestion
to go on what pretty much amounted to a date, wasn’t helping. He reminded me of
Eric visiting my apartment unexpectedly and wanting to do touristy stuff
together. I wondered if men and women operated on vastly different logic
systems.

“That sounds really nice
Jordan...but I’d like to go back to New York. Can that be arranged?”

There was a brief silence on
the other end of the line and I thought I could hear him sigh. “Of course,” he
said. “We’ll leave in thirty minutes for the airport.” He hung up without
saying goodbye, but I was more relieved than troubled. I felt guilty
disappointing him, but sightseeing with Jordan as my guide was about the last
thing I wanted to do right now. I wanted to go home, flop down in my own bed,
and shut out the world.

I took a quick shower and
got dressed, picking up my pajamas and other belongings that had been strewn
across the hotel room.

When I got to the lobby,
Jordan was already there, helping George stuff a bag into the trunk of the
limo. He was wearing a white v-neck undershirt, sleeves tight against his large
arms, with a pair of worn jeans over brown desert boots. His resemblance to
Eric when Eric showed up at my apartment made me pause for a moment. One glance
at his butt as he leaned over to grab his suitcase made me ache all over. No
contest. Jordan wore the outfit better.

Mindful not to tempt myself
by examining Jordan’s body, I kept my eyes averted and handed my duffel to
George. I felt comfortable in my jeans and sweatshirt under the California sun;
it was a big difference from wearing my dress. I’d folded last night’s gown
into my bag, eager to forget being Cinderella and ready to get back to being
just Lori.

Jordan was visibly
crestfallen but still polite, sitting a good distance away in the limo on the
way to the airport. We rode in silence, getting out directly on the tarmac to
climb into his jet.

We’d chosen to sit across
the aisle from each other. Once we were airborne, Jordan looked over at me.

“If you want to take some
time off from work, I’d completely understand,” he said.

As nice as it sounded to
have a long weekend, delaying my return to work would only make getting back
into a routine more difficult.

“You’ll definitely see me
tomorrow,” I said. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

He smiled, looking a little
more like himself. “I’m happy to hear that.”

We landed at JFK several
hours later—me having spent most of the flight napping and Jordan poring over a
thick file.

We walked to the terminal
after disembarking his private jet. He gently placed his hand on the curve of
my back, causing my breath to quicken. “Can I give you a ride back? It’s no
trouble at all.”

The idea of being back in
the city and going to my place in the limo was tempting but I couldn’t do that
to either of us. Thankfully I was still half groggy from my nap on the plane,
so it was easier to resist his allure.

“I think I’ll take the
subway,” I said, shouldering my duffel and starting to walk away through the
busy terminal.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,
then,” Jordan said, looking extremely unhappy.