Seducing Texas (So not Prince Charming #2)
Diana Downey
Chapter
Shane
My only photo of Cyn, where’s she’s sleeping in my tent, is splashed across my monitor at work. It’s about the only time she was quiet enough during our trek across the Alaskan Interior to let me focus on our horrifying predicament—being hunted by my brother, the best tracker in Alaska, but that’s behind us. We have much worse problems now.
My wallpaper of Cyn doesn’t help me work at all. I’ve spent way too many hours fantasizing about her ever since she slid into the helicopter in Alaska, both of us saying goodbye. I cannot forget that sweet ass of hers grinding into my erection while she cuddled with me in my sleeping bag. Her kiss-worthy lips, that hellacious ass, and her luxuriously long legs have invaded every wet dream I’ve had since we parted ways.
Once Cyn confessed to me no man had ever gotten her off, I knew I had to rise to the challenge, and her sweet drenched * did not give me any problems. I put a big smile on that girl’s full lips and forced her into silence other than screaming my name. Nothing has ever sounded so sweet. I miss the hell out of her. I’d even compromise on giving up my dream of buying the Kenai fishing camp to be with her. I may have to give up that dream anyway.
After bringing to justice Cyn’s kidnappers and her mother’s killers, I’ve been back in Austin for about two months. I’ve already started a new business, Hoops N’ Hookups—combining the dating model of Tinder with Sports. Due to my business venture taking off like a rocket I’ve worked long hours to keep up with bug fixes and upgrades.
I have to work my way back to Cyn, but I can barely afford to take her out. The feds and the IRS are in the way. I need to work this out, and I’d better. My only goal is to be with my princess.
I still haven’t hired an accountant to pay my disgruntled employees. If I don’t get them paid this week, they’ll quit, and I don’t know shit about doing payroll. Most of my programmers are happy to work until I hire an accountant because I gave them a mil each when I sold my last company. They’re hedging their bets that I’ll make them multi-millionaires.
My assistant pokes her head into my office where the shades cover the windows looking into it. “Some man is here to see you. Timmons? He’s kind of an *.”
I’ve known my assistant Tanya for years. She’s an eternally happy single mom whom I completely respect. “Thanks. Send the * in.”
She grins. “Yes, sir boss.”
Federal Special Agent Timmons waltzes into my office, like he owns me. He doesn’t, but the IRS does. Most people don’t go to prison for evading taxes, but usually we’re only talking about thousands. I owe the government close to 200 million—not chump change.
Timmons always looks like he’s been beaten from his raccoon eyes to his sallow skin. He isn’t overweight, but it would take a crowbar to pry off his wedding band that strangles his ring finger.
He picks up and plays with my wooden desktop puzzle ball. “We’d like you to up your game with Nikita Harper. If you have sex with her, your relationship will seem more legit, not only to us but to her. I don’t know what you’re waiting on.”
What the f*ck? I can’t even bring myself to kiss her. She pretended to love me to get at the millions I made from my first company, which the feds believe she siphoned out of my accounts.
I hate Timmons for forcing me to date Niki. The feds think they can find my money and have made a deal with me, so I won’t face prison time. Part of the deal is for me to pry information from Niki, which is why I’m going out with her. If Cyn catches me with her, she’ll never take me back, and I couldn’t live with that. I’m screwed at this point.
“You want me to do what?” Is he really asking me to f*ck her? That’s out of the question.
I gape at the cheaply suited fed. My ripped jeans don’t look much better, at least according to the only girl I crave, Cynthia Diaz. What in the hell is that pain in my ass up to anyway? God I want her.
The fed sits on my desk. “Nikita is a beautiful woman. You shouldn’t have any problem doing her. Hell, if I weren’t married with three kids, I’d do her.”
“Be my guest.” If I f*ck Niki, I’ll permanently lose Cyn, not that I have a snowball’s chance in hell of ever seeing her again because I’m starting to believe prison is better than sucking up to my ex-fiancé and this *. Prior to Cyn and me hooking up, it had crossed my mind to bend Niki over my desk and f*ck her so hard I’d paralyze her, mainly for dumping me over losing my millions. Then Cyn happened, and no other woman will do.
I just want Cyn in my bed. My need for her is out of control. I can barely work or function. Damn that princess. She has me by the balls.
Not once have I seen Cyn at the usual hangouts, but she is no longer living in the sorority house and has taken over the care of her younger sister Willa. A few times, I’ve stalked by her new townhouse, quite a step-down from the sprawling ranch she grew up on.
I impatiently tap my keyboard. “Can’t you just arrest your suspects and grill them? I can’t live like this for much longer.” I’m tired of Timmons breathing down my neck, and if I have to look into Niki’s lying blue eyes one more time, I’ll throw myself out my office-building window, which probably won’t kill me. Unlike my last company, I could only afford second floor rent instead of the higher floors in the tower.