Cat Johnson's Blog - Posts Tagged "new-series"

Read a never before seen full chapter excerpt from my upcoming release, BILLIONAIRE FOR HIRE, in the all new Hot SEALs spin-off, the For Hire series, on preorder now for April delivery.

EXCERPT

The GAPS office on N Street was small. Just two rooms on the ground floor. Nothing like the whole building I’d just purchased. But it was conveniently located and all that Zane needed for now, I assumed.

And speaking of needs—I was barely in the door when I was got an eyeful of Zane’s hottie receptionist.

Damn. Seeing her reminded me how I’d been much too busy with work to handle certain personal requirements lately.

Gorgeous and blonde with mile-long legs more suited for a runway than sitting behind Zane’s reception desk, she could fulfill all a man’s fantasies plus some. Not a surprise, really. Zane always did have an eye for pretty ladies. He apparently hadn’t changed even though he was now a married man.

His taste for hot blondes obviously extended to his employees as well as wives.

For obvious reasons I would never date any of my own employees—and sadly the only females I had time to talk to lately were in my employ—but there was nothing stopping me from dating Zane’s employee as far as I could see.

As I walked in she glanced up and smiled. “Good afternoon.”

I closed the door behind me and returned her smile.

“Good afternoon, yourself. I’m Brent. Brent Hearst.” Hand extended, I strode toward her. “We had the pleasure of bumping into each other here a couple of months ago, but we were never formally introduced.”

She stood and walked around the desk and I got a better look at those oh-so-long legs. At a couple of inches over six feet tall, it was rare for me to be eye-to-eye with a woman as I was now with her.

Although closer inspection revealed she wasn’t just tall, but also navigating four-inch pumps—and doing it as easily as if they were an extension of her own feet. Walking in heels was a female talent for which I had vast appreciation.

“Hi, I’m Chelsea. Nice to officially meet you, Mr. Hearst.” She shook my hand in a strong grasp.

That was another thing I liked on a woman—a nice firm grip. It could be useful for more than just shaking hands. I knocked that thought from my head as I held on to her hand.

“Call me Brent.” When I finally released my hold, I pulled a card out of my breast pocket and handed it to her. “And I do mean that. Call me. Maybe we could go out. For a meal or a drink. Whatever you’d like.”

Her blonde brows rose as she took the card. She opened her mouth but didn’t have a chance to speak before Zane appeared in the doorway of his office.

She turned her head to glance at her boss, her blonde hair bouncing as she did. “Um, Brent Hearst is here to see you.”

“Yes, so I see. And please ignore my friend’s poor judgment. He obviously doesn’t know what hands-off my office manager means.” Zane crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway, shooting me a glare.

“Hello, Zane.” Shoving hands in my pockets, I leaned close to Chelsea. “Ignore him. Call me.”

Zane was shaking his head as I walked passed him and entered his office.

I sprawled in a chair as he closed the door between us and the lovely Chelsea and walked around his big wooden desk.

“Nice desk.” I raised my gaze to meet his as he strode past. A desk that large had to be overcompensating for some shortcoming in the man seated behind it. I’d made sure my tone said just that.

He cocked a brow high as he settled in the big leather chair behind his big desk and leveled a stare on me. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Not true. I do know. And I know that time hasn’t come yet.” I grinned.

He scowled and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. She wouldn’t date you anyway.”

I rose quickly to his challenge. “How do you know that?”

“Because she’s too smart and independent to fall for your dubious charm.”

“Would you like to make a little wager on that?” There was nothing I liked better than a good bet.

“No, I would not.”

“Why not? Afraid you’d lose?” I asked.

“No. Because betting on your ability to bed my office manager is just plain wrong.”

I huffed out a breath, wondering when Zane had grown morals when it came to betting on women. He’d never had issues with it before.

It must be marriage. It had changed him and not for the better.

“Anyway, the reason I called,” he continued.

“Yes, why did you call?”

It certainly seemed it wasn’t so we could go out and have a good time together. And since he wasn’t going to let me have any fun with his receptionist I was really wondering why I’d taken the time to come over here.

“I need your help.” There was no more joking in his tone. Gone was my cocky, smart-ass friend and here instead was Zane the businessman. Or, more accurately, Zane the deadly serious SEAL.

I’d seen this side of him when he’d worked a case for me earlier in the year.

That the serious version of Zane was back was intriguing. That he wanted my help, even more so.

“You need my help?” I frowned. “On what?”

I mean, I could help him with business advice if he needed it, although his father could do that also. Then again, those two got along like oil and water. Or more like gasoline and fire.

My attention was redirected when a remote control in Zane’s hand turned on a flat screen television I hadn’t noticed hanging on the sidewall.

A couple of clicks of Zane’s fingers on his computer keyboard and the screensaver of the corporate logo displayed switched to what looked like a website.

A charity event page specifically.

“You have any connections with anyone at this thing?” Zane asked.

I read the name of the event and the not-for-profit it benefited and neither rang a bell. “Can I see who’s running it?”

Zane clicked some more and the names of the event committee and donors appeared and finally some of the guests.

It was like a who’s who of the rich and famous of the Hamptons. Actors. Designers. Celebrity chefs. Corporate moguls.

“Yeah. I know quite a few.”

“Think you could wrangle a ticket?”

“A ticket to this event?” I asked, surprised at the question.

He nodded.

“Probably. And why would I want to do that?”

It was a ten thousand dollar a head fundraiser being held at an estate in the Hamptons. One of those things where you attended because you had to, kissed a bunch of cheeks, ate tiny food from silver platters, drank strong drinks if you were lucky, and then left the moment the speeches by the organizers were done.

“Because I asked you to,” Zane began. I raised a brow and he continued, “and because you owe me one.”

It seemed Zane was going to keep me waiting yet again for information. I had more questions than ever but he was correct, I did owe him and apparently it was time to pay up.

“I can call and see. But why me and not you? You’ve got plenty of connections.” I would think having a senator for a father-in-law would open all sorts of doors for Zane.

“I already called and tried to get an invitation. Apparently it’s very exclusive and sold out—or so they claim. You think you can make the cut and get in?”

It sounded like a challenge. And the bastard knew I couldn’t resist that.

“Sure. No problem. But why do you want to go to this thing anyway?” I asked as I stood and pulled my cell out of my pocket, before sitting again.

I scrolled to my contact list while Zane watched me.

“The ticket is going to be for you, not me,” he informed me.

“Me?” I stopped my scrolling and glanced up, frowning. “Why me?”

“Very good question. I was going to attend myself. I still probably could wrangle a ticket if I threw around the senator’s name to the right people. But given how exclusive this event is, my muscling my way in would look odd. Your attendance, however, wouldn’t raise any suspicions.”

Zane was right. The Hearsts had a strong social footprint and plenty of real estate in the Hamptons. And I had a history of philanthropy. My wanting to attend wouldn’t raise any questions.

In fact, the only oddity in this whole situation was that someone from my family wasn’t already on the guest list or the planning committee.

I nodded my agreement. “Makes sense. That still doesn’t tell me why you want me to be at this thing.”

“I’ll explain that when you get off the call and have the ticket secured.”

“Full of intrigue, I see.” How SEAL-like of him. I drew in a breath. “All right. I’ll give it a try. And I suppose I’ll be footing the bill for this ticket?” I raised my gaze to his before going back to scroll through my contact list.

“Relax. GAPS will be covering your expenses.”

More and more interesting, but I could see I wasn’t getting any answers from him until I had proven I was worthy. And to do that, I needed an official invite to this event.

My path to getting a ticket was clear. I had a standing invitation to stay at my Uncle Bunky’s place in Bridgehampton anytime I wanted, but he didn’t have the pull socially to get me a ticket. My aunt, however, did.

I stopped at the number I’d sought and hit the screen to call.

“Hello?”

“Aunt Anne. It’s Brent.”

“Brent. Good to hear from you. It’s been too long since we’ve seen you.”

“It has. I was hoping to correct that and spend some time at Uncle Bunky’s.”

“That’s wonderful. You’ll have to visit us in Water Mill. We’re at the farm for the summer.”

Exactly what I wanted to hear. “I’d love that. Um, while I have you on the phone, do you know anything about the charity event next weekend?”

“The one being held at the Prentice place in Southampton?” she asked.

“That’s the one. I believe it’s to benefit a literacy not-for-profit. I’d love to attend. I need a focus for this year’s corporate donations and this charity is a perfect fit. But I heard the event’s sold out. They’re not letting anyone else in.”

“Pfft. We’ll see about that. How many tickets did you need?”

She’d reacted exactly as I’d hoped. It seemed no Hearst could resist the lure of a challenge.

“How many tickets do I need? Hmm, let me see.” I eyed Zane, looking for an answer. He held up one finger. “Just one should do it. It’s work so I won’t be bringing a date.”

“Smart boy. That way you can network . . . and flirt with all the pretty girls.”

“Exactly. You know me so well, Aunt Anne.”

“I should. I’ve known you your whole life. All right. I know the event chair. Let me make a phone call. Is this number the best one to call you back?” she asked.

“It is. I look forward to hearing from you. And thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

I disconnected the call and raised my gaze to Zane. “Now would you like to explain?”

“Do you have a ticket?” he asked.

“I will in a few minutes.”

“Then I’ll explain in a few minutes.” He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, settling in for the wait, I guess.

Bastard.

I leaned back and folded my arms. I could wait with the best of them.

“So, where you staying in Virginia nowadays?” Zane asked. “Middleburg or someplace equally snooty. Rubbing elbows with the horse set. Playing polo on weekends.”

I guess we were going to make small talk until I either got a ticket or not. And, apparently, he was going to take a few jabs at me and my lifestyle while we did it. “Nope. I got a one-bedroom in one of the buildings a couple of blocks from the King Street Metro.”

“Really?” His eyes widened. “I’m surprised.”

I laughed. “You shouldn’t be. At this point in my life, with the amount of hours I work and all the traveling I do, the things I look for in a home have become a bit more practical. Like being able to drop off my dry cleaning with the concierge. Besides, what the fuck would I do with a horse?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Beats me. I never understood the attraction myself.”

I snorted. “You wouldn’t. If I remember correctly you never even had a dog growing up. Do you now?”

“No. I’ll get around to it—one day.”

My cell rang and I glanced at the display and smiled. “That’s her. Get ready to explain yourself.” I shot him a warning glare and answered the call. “Hello.”

“You’ll have one ticket waiting for you at the door under your name the night of the event.”

“I can’t thank you enough.”

“It was nothing. Seriously. At least one Hearst should be on that guest list, if not more than one. It was their oversight.”

“My thoughts exactly, but I do appreciate you making the call. I’ll be in touch when I get to the Island and we’ll make plans.”

“Perfect. Give our love to your parents and sisters.”

“Will do. And please tell Amanda I’ll expect to see her when I visit.”

“I certainly will. See you soon.”

“Sure thing. Bye.” I hit the button and tossed the cell onto the desk between us. “The ticket is secured. Now talk.”

“Everything I’m about to tell you can’t leave this room. You can’t tell your family, or your latest squeeze. No one. Understood?” He pinned me with his gaze, as if sizing up if he could trust me or not.

“Yes.” I waited but he still didn’t talk. I shook my head at the fact he didn’t trust me. “Zane, do you know how many family secrets I’m carrying around? Not to mention confidential Hearst Corp. business? I sit on the board of directors. Even our meeting minutes are treated like classified information. I can keep your secrets. I promise.”

“All right.” He clicked the computer keyboard and then spun his chair to face the television on the wall again.

I did the same and saw the image had changed from the event page to a picture of a dark haired, middle-aged man.

“Who’s that?” I asked, not recognizing him.

“He is Alexey Mordashov, currently the richest man in Russia, and it would look really bad if someone took a shot at him while he was attending a charity event in the Hamptons next weekend.” Zane spun in his chair to face me again. “Which is where you come in.”

My eyes widened as I shifted my attention from the screen to Zane. “Me?”

With all of Zane’s hired muscle and the firepower at his disposal, his choice of bodyguards for this Russian billionaire? What the hell as going on?

Billionaire for Hire

"I owe you one."

I didn’t realize when I said that to my Navy SEAL buddy he’d actually collect on the debt. Or that it could cost me my life.

I'm Brent Hearst, for God's sake. A member of the one percent. As in old family money. Yet somehow I'm standing here, smiling while there’s a gun strapped to my leg ruining the line of my Italian suit.

But my real issue isn’t with that gun. Oh, no. It’s my other weapon I can’t control when I’m around the sexy-as-sin brunette who might or might not be a spy. It seems I don’t care which while I’ve got her against the wall with my hand fisted in her hair.

Oh, and while I figure out if I’ve been sleeping with the enemy, I’ve also got to keep us both from being killed by a couple of gun-toting Russians.

No problem.

Billionaire for Hire is a full-length standalone contemporary romance, the first in the For Hire series by New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Cat Johnson. It is a loose spinoff from Cat Johnson's Hot SEALs series, with cameo appearances from favorite characters.

Billionaire for Hire by Cat Johnson

ADD IT TO YOUR TBR! In eBook and Paperback April 3, 2018.
Get it at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iBooks, Kobo, and Google Play. Find BUY LINKS and an EXCERPT at http://catjohnson.net/book/billionair...

Billionaire for Hire is a full-length standalone contemporary romance, the first in the For Hire series by New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Cat Johnson. It is a loose spinoff from Cat Johnson's Hot SEALs series, with cameo appearances from favorite characters.





View all my reviews

5 more days until you get BILLIONAIRE FOR HIRE in your hands!

HERE'S A SNEAK PEEK

Still sitting on me, she took off one shoe, put the comm on the floor and smashed it.

I watched in shock, unable to stop her. "What are you doing?"

"Disabling your means of communication with your friend." With the deadly looking heel still clutched in her hand and poised above my eye, she said, "Tell me who you work for and what your assignment is."

She wouldn't do it. She couldn't do it. Could she? Kill me with a high heel?

Was it even possible? Even if I didn't die, I had no doubt she could blind me with that thing.
Did her wielding the heel at me mean she didn't have another weapon? Did she not have a gun on her?

That thought made me brave and I said, "How about you tell me who you work for."

She lifted a brow and I wondered if my bravado had impressed her or if she was just thinking I was an idiot who deserved to die.

The sound of the elevator rumbling to a stop and the door opening sent both of our heads swiveling in that direction.

I didn't know whether to be relieved or worried when a man stepped off the elevator, gun first.
"Another one?" She sighed. "Who the fuck are you?"

It was my turn to wonder if she was brave or stupid. After all, she was the one bringing a shoe to a gunfight.

Preorder Links at http://catjohnson.net/book/billionair...

Billionaire for Hire