Page 3 of Dr. Stone (Billionaires’ Club #9)

THREE

Jace

I ignored everyone else’s expressions and locked on the beauty who captivated me more with every step. Her green eyes glistened with a hint of mischief, lips glossy and flushed from the cosmopolitan she’d been sipping before I interrupted her.

I kept my cool, refusing to look like some desperate-to-get-laid fool, even as my mind drifted to how those full breasts would bounce beneath me. One look into her eyes told me she was hungry—whether she’d admit it or not—and I’d never been one to leave a woman starving.

If I had to guess the last time this woman had been laid, her expression told me it was at least a year ago. If I had to estimate the last time that she was properly fucked…it would be never. And that’s because she’d never met me.

I grinned at Jake and John as I pulled a chair out in gentlemanly fashion and guided Andie to sit in it. I liked that name…Andie.

“Andie,” I said, ready to get this show on the road. “I love your name. It’s sassy and hot, like you.”

She eyed me like I was some school nerd trying to hit on the popular chick.

“You’re going to have to come up with some better lines if you want this to go anywhere,” she chuckled.

“But thank you for the compliment. Andie is short for Andrea, so I’m not sure how exotic it sounds now,” she eyed me and smirked.

I returned her smirk and took a sip of the scotch a waiter had set in front of me. “I think it’s a lovely name. It’s like Andrea Bocelli,” I answered. “Are you from an Italian family?”

She erupted into laughter. “Italian family? You know Andrea Bocelli is a man, right?”

“Yes, of course,” I said.

“So, is that your way of telling me that my name and nickname are both masculine?”

“What? No, that’s not what I meant. I suppose I’ve never met another Andrea, that’s all,” I covered for myself. She wasn’t wrong to call me out on it, though. Comparing her name to Andrea Bocelli instead of a thousand other women was still pretty lame.

“Fair enough. Your turn,” she turned the questions on me. “Jace seems like the name of a sporty athlete or something like that. I wouldn’t pin the name Jace on a doctor.”

“How did we get on this topic of name associations?”

She made an adorable expression, “When you told me my name reminded you of a sixty-year-old Italian man.”

Okay. I was completely off my game. I needed to change the subject, but I didn’t want to discuss work with this woman.

It was too personal, and apparently, because of work, I’d forgotten how to hit on women with my natural charm.

I’d saved countless lives over the past three months, but saving my own life and reputation right now was an entirely different story.

Anyone who knew me knew that my looks alone could land me a night in bed with a stunning beauty of my choice, but I wanted more than that from this woman. I wanted her to wake up tomorrow morning, craving one last round before she never saw me again.

“All right,” I held up both hands after taking a gulp of my scotch. “Let’s get off the names, shall we?”

“You’re the one who got on them, not me,” she played back.

“True,” I admitted. “Your name is cute, though.”

“Cute?” She chewed on the corner of her lip, folded her arms, and sat back in her chair. “First, it’s sassy and hot. Now, it’s cute . How about this, Dr. Stone? I think you’re adorable. Nervous, yes, but you are behaving so adorably, which overcomes it, in my opinion.”

Oh, fuck me, I thought, glancing over at the grins on everyone’s face who was watching our exchange. We’d captured the attention of the CEOs and doctors who always gave me hell for enjoying my frivolous bachelor life.

Andie sat calm, almost bored, convinced I was nervous. I was killing my chance of hearing her scream my name, gripping my hair as she came over and over on my dick.

That wasn’t even close to happening so long as I used the word cute to describe any part of this woman. I needed to pull it together.

I came into this whole thing way too confidently, forgetting I needed to warm up to this shit. What the fuck should I do to get things back on track now, especially since we were off to the friend zone races with me calling her cute and her referring to me as being adorable?

“Anyway,” I tried to side-step her observations, “what brings you onto the yacht tonight?”

We needed more cocktails. Things were way too black and white right now, and we needed to loosen up.

I motioned to the waiter to bring us two more of what we were having.

“I came with Ashley Mitchell; her husband is Dr. Mitchell.” She glanced around at the splendor of the yacht. “Do you know him?”

“Yes, I do,” I took the second scotch from the waiter, sipped it, and smiled. “Jake is my chief.”

“Impressive,” she said as if I wanted her to be impressed by my profession. “You’re a heart doctor?”

“Cardiologist, yes,” I informed her.

“They say doctors choose their specialty because something inspires them to do so; is that true for you?”

“I’ve heard that, but honestly, nothing in particular inspired me to go into cardiology.

I had an aptitude for it, the right doors opened, and I took them.

I’m just a science nerd who excelled in med school and wanted to focus my skills in a high-stakes field where life and death are often on the line.

I figure I was given these abilities for a reason, so why not use them where I can save the most lives? ”

“I’m intrigued,” she responded.

“By what? Me being a book nerd or the reason I chose to become a cardiologist?”

“Both,” she answered.

“Well, it’s true,” I laughed, realizing I was just perpetuating the cute and adorable talk from earlier.

What the hell was wrong with me tonight? Why couldn’t I hook her with charm and intrigue for the way I’d fuck her instead of for my brain? Now she was hooked on my nerdiness, not the way I could have her on her knees. This was the last thing I wanted.

I was not getting laid if I couldn’t get myself out of this trap quickly.

“Are you really that nervous?” she questioned, seeing through my inner paranoia.

Apparently, I wasn’t even capable of having a normal conversation anymore. Here I was, trying to get laid while calling her cute and referring to myself as a book nerd. I guess I just enjoyed jerking off in the shower because that’s where this was heading.

“I’m not nervous. I just don’t think I’ve ever had the luxury of being in the presence of such a beautiful woman before,” I responded honestly.

She smiled. “Oh, I’m sure that isn’t true. You honestly crack me up,” she said, laughing at how stupid I was acting.

“How so?”

“From the moment I first saw you walking in our direction, I saw a man full of himself and entirely assured he was getting laid tonight. You weren’t afraid to unashamedly approach me and practically take me to your room.

Yet, here you are, stumbling all over your words, and I just think it’s adorable. ”

“Well, if I thought I was getting laid, I could tell that the reality is I’ll no doubt end up jerking off alone in my shower tonight—” I stopped myself.

What the fuck! Why would you say that out loud, you absolute dipshit?

My eyes were wide, my mouth hung open, and my hand gripped my glass of scotch so tightly that I was shocked I didn’t break the fucker. I couldn’t believe I’d just let my inner monologue steer the car and admit something I wouldn’t dare tell a fucking soul…and yet, here we were.

I should walk to the railing and jump overboard. No one had ever heard of a swim of shame , but I was seriously contemplating taking one.

I glanced over at Jake and the men, who looked like they were all making bets against me getting laid tonight. Goddamn it, I had a fucking reputation to uphold. I was good in bed! I left broken hearts in my wake, and I sure as shit never failed in situations like this.

When I turned back to her, she flashed a beautiful and dazzling smile.

I felt my breath hitch and my heart pick up pace in my chest. She was so fucking stunning, and I knew exactly who to blame for this colossal fuck up.

Her. Andie. It appeared that after all this time and all those women I’d seduced, karma had finally crept up on me in the form of this woman.

I had finally met my match. The strange part was she had done nothing out of the ordinary to force this reaction from me.

Well, perhaps she had. She’d been challenging me since I guided her to sit at this table.

This was a woman I needed to be on top of my game with, not casual and overconfident.

I needed to prove to myself that I still had it and prove to her that she wanted it.

If I didn’t, the First Wives’ Club group chat would annihilate me—I’m talking Genghis Khan-level brutality.

The only thing I knew to do now was play the victim. Allow her to think that I was nervous and intimidated by her beauty. She’d believe that easily. Every woman loved a humble, shy man now and then, right? Hopefully, that was true because that’s all I had.