Millionaire: Needed for One Month: Thirty Day Affair

She was talking so fast Nathan's ears were buzzing. He had no interest in going to her community fundraiser and he suspected that she didn't really want him there, either. What she wanted was a donation. Wasn't that what everyone wanted from him in the end?

With the Barrister family fortune behind him, Nathan had long ago accepted that he was seen first as a bankbook and second as a man. Which suited him fine. He didn't want friends. Didn't want a lover or a wife. What he wanted was to be left alone.

And he suddenly knew just the way to hurry Keira Sanders out the door: Give her what she wanted. What she'd really come for. While she continued to talk in nearly a stream of consciousness while hardly pausing for breath, he stalked across the room to where he'd dropped his briefcase on one of the overstuffed, burgundy leather chairs. Quickly, he opened it, grabbed his black leather checkbook and flicked his ballpoint pen.

Shaking his head, he wrote a check made out to Hunter's Landing, and then tore it from the pad and walked back to where Keira was still smiling and outlining the plans she had for her little town.

“So you see, it would be a great chance for you to meet everyone in town. Nice for you to see the place you'll be living for the next month and maybe it will help you see how important it is to us that you and your friends complete the stipulations of Mr. Palmer's will.” She finally took a breath. “If it's okay with you, I'll pick you up tomorrow about six and drive you to the potluck myself. I can take you on a tour of the lake if you'd like too and—”

“Please,” Nathan said, interrupting her when it became obvious it would be the only way to keep her quiet. He held out the check and waited until she'd taken it, a question in her beautiful eyes. “Accept this contribution to your clinic fund.”

“Oh,” she said, “that's very generous of you but—” She stopped, glanced down at the check and Nathan actually saw all the blood drain from her face. She went absolutely white and her hand holding the check trembled. “I … I … you …”

Her mouth opened and closed, she gulped noisily and wheezed in a breath. “Oh. My. God.”

“Are you all right?” Nathan reached for her, grabbed her upper arm and felt the tremors that were racing through her body.

She raised her gaze to his, waved the check in a tight fist and swallowed hard a time or two before trying to speak. Apparently, he'd finally found the way to make her speechless.

“Are you serious about this?”

“The check?”

“The amount,” she said harshly, then added, “I've got to sit down.”

And she did.

Right there on the floor.

She pulled her arm free of his grasp and folded up on herself. Leaning her head back against the closest chair, she looked up at him in stunned amazement. “I can't believe you—”

“It's just a donation,” he said.

“Of five hundred thousand dollars,” she pointed out.

“If you don't want it …”

“Oh, no!” She folded the check and stretched out her right leg so she could stuff it into her jeans pocket. Then she patted it carefully and gave him a grin. “We want it. And we thank you. I mean, the whole town is going to want to thank you. This is just wonderful. Completely generous. I don't know what to say, really—”

“And yet you keep trying,” Nathan said, feeling oddly embarrassed the longer she went on about a simple donation.

“Wow. My head's still spinning. In a good way,” she insisted, then raised one hand toward him. “A little help here?”

Nathan sighed, reached for her hand and, in one quick move, pulled her to her feet. She flew off the floor and slammed into his chest with a whoosh of air pushed from her lungs. His hands dropped to her waist to steady her and, for a quick moment, he considered kissing her.

Which surprised the hell out of him.

Keira Sanders wasn't the kind of woman who usually attracted him. For one, she was too damn talkative. He liked a woman who appreciated a good silence. And she was short. He liked tall women. And he preferred brunettes. And blue eyes.

Yet, as she looked at him, her green eyes seemed to pull at him, drawing him in, tugging him closer than he wanted to be.

With her breasts smashed up against his broad chest, Keira felt a rush of something hot and needy and completely unexpected. The man was as closed-off as a deadend road, and yet there was something about him that made her want to reach up, wrap her arms around his neck and pull his head down for a long, lingering kiss.

And it wasn't the huge check that was sitting in her pocket like a red-hot coal.

“You're a very surprising man,” she finally said when she was pretty sure she could speak without her voice breaking.

His hands dropped from her waist and he stepped back so quickly that her shaky balance made her wobble unsteadily before she found stability again.

“It's just a check.”

“It's more than that,” she assured him. God, she couldn't wait to show his donation to the town council. Eva Callahan would probably keel over in a dead faint. “You have no idea what this means to our town.”

“You're welcome,” he said tightly. “Now, if you don't mind, I have some work I have to get to.”

“No you don't,” she said, smiling.

“I'm sorry?”

“You don't have any work,” Keira said, tipping her head to one side to study him, as if getting a different perspective might help understand why such a deliberately solitary man could give away so much money without even pausing to think about it. “You just want me to go.”

“Yes.” His frown deepened. “I believe I already mentioned that.”

“So you did.” She patted the check in her pocket, swung her hair back from her face and gave him a smile. “And I'm going to oblige you.”

A flicker of something like acceptance shot across his eyes, and Keira wondered about that for a second or two. But then his features evened out into a mask of granite that no amount of staring at would ever decipher.

“Okay then,” she said, starting for the front door, only half surprised when he made no move to follow her. He'd seemed so anxious to get rid of her, she'd just assumed that he'd show her out once he had the chance. But when she turned to glance back at him, he was standing where she'd left him.

Alone, in front of the vast windows overlooking the lake. Behind him, the water silvered under the rising moon and the star-swept sky seemed to stretch on forever. Something inside her wanted to go back to him. To somehow make him less solitary.

But she knew he wouldn't welcome it.

For whatever reason, Nathan Barrister had become a man so used to solitude he didn't want or expect anything to change.

Well, Keira wasn't going to allow him to get away with an anonymous donation. She was going to make sure the town got the chance to thank him properly for what he had done for them with a click of a pen.

Whether he liked it or not, Keira was going to drag Nathan into the heart of Hunter's Landing.

By the next evening, Keira was running on adrenaline. She'd hardly been able to sleep the night before; memories of Nathan Barrister and the feel of his hands on her had kept her tossing and turning through some pretty detailed fantasies that kept playing through her mind.

Ridiculous, really. She knew the man would be here for only a month. She knew he wasn't interested—he'd made that plain enough every time he looked at her. But, for some reason, her body hadn't gotten the message.

She felt hot and itchy and … way more needy than she'd like to admit.

Apparently it had been way too long since she'd had a man in her life. But then, the last man she'd been interested in had made such a mess of her world that she'd pretty much sworn off the Y chromosome.

Then grumpy, rich and gorgeous Nathan Barrister, rolled into her life and made her start rethinking a few things. Not a good idea.

She spun her straw through her glass of iced tea and watched idly as ice cubes rattled against the sides of the glass. It felt good to sit down. She'd been running all day, first calling an emergency meeting of the town council so she could tell them about Nathan's donation. And, she smiled as she remembered, Eva Callahan had behaved as expected, slumping into a chair and waving a stack of papers at her face to stave off a faint.

Once the meeting was over she'd had to take care of a few other things, like depositing that check, talking to the contractor about the renovations to the clinic, settling a parking dispute between Harry's Hardware and Frannie's Fabrics and finally, coming here to the Lakeside Diner.

Being mayor of a small town was exhausting, and it was really hardly more than an honorary office. Her duties consisted mainly of presiding over town council meetings once a month, playing referee to adults old enough to solve their own problems and trying to raise money for civic projects. And yet, she seemed to always be busy. She didn't have a clue how the mayors of big cities managed to have a life at all.

But then, Keira thought, isn't that the way she wanted it? Keeping busy gave her too little time to think about how her life had turned out so differently from what she'd expected. She picked a French fry off her plate and popped it into her mouth. Chewing, she glanced around the crowded diner and took a deep breath. Here, no matter what else was going on in her life, Keira could find comfort.

The Lakeside Diner was a tiny coffee shop and more or less a touchstone in Keira's life, the one constant she'd always been able to count on. Her parents had owned and operated the diner before her and she herself had started working here, clearing tables, when she was twelve.

Then, when her parents died, Keira had taken over, because there was her younger sister, Kelly, to provide for. Now, she had a manager to take care of the day-to-day running of the diner, but when she needed a place to sit and recharge, she always came here.

The red Naugahyde booths were familiar, as was the gleaming wood counter and the glass covered cake and pie dishes, the records in the jukebox her father had loved hadn't been changed in twenty years. Memories crowded thick in this diner. She closed her eyes and could almost see her dad behind the stove, grinning out at her mom running the cash register.

This diner—like Hunter's Landing—was home.

“Hey, Keira. Can I see it?”

She opened her eyes, startled as an older woman slid onto the bench seat opposite her. Sallye Carberry grinned, and held out one hand dotted with silver rings.

“See what?” Keira asked.

“The check, of course,” Sallye prompted. “Everyone in town is talking about it. Margie Fontenot told me that she'd never seen anything quite so pretty as all those zeros. I just wanted an up close peek at it.”

“Sorry, Sallye,” Keira said, taking a sip of her tea. “Already deposited it.”

“Well, darn.” The older woman slumped back against the seat and huffed out a disappointed breath that waved the curl of bangs on her forehead. “That's a bummer.”

Keira laughed.

Sallye waved one beringed hand. “That's okay, I'll settle for meeting the man himself. I hear he's a real looker. He is coming to the potluck so we can all get a look at him—I mean thank him—isn't he?”

There was the question.

She knew damn well Nathan wouldn't want anything to do with the town or their potluck dinner. She knew he didn't want their thanks and was pretty sure he wouldn't want to see her again any time soon. So anyone with a grain of sense would keep her distance, right?

The last thing she should do was go back to the lakeside mansion to see a man who wanted nothing to do with her.

And yet …

Keira checked her silver wristwatch, saw she had a couple of hours until six and took one last sip of her tea. Sliding from the booth, she looked down at her late mother's best friend and nodded. “He'll be there,” she said firmly.

Three

Nathan felt like a prisoner.

And damn it, he shouldn't.

He preferred being alone.

But this kind of alone was too damned quiet.

He stepped out onto the deck overlooking Lake Tahoe and let the cold wind buffet him. His hair lifted in the icy breeze, and he narrowed his eyes as he stared out over a snowy landscape. Silence pounded at him. Even the soft sigh of the lake water slapping against the deck pilings seemed overly loud in the eerie stillness.

The problem was, Nathan thought, he wasn't used to this kind of alone. Other people considered him a recluse but, even in his insular world, there was more … interaction.

He traveled constantly, moving from one of his family's hotels to the next. And on those trips he dealt with room service personnel, hotel managers, maids, waiters, the occasional guest. No matter how he tried to avoid contact with people, there were always some who he was forced to speak to.

Until now.

The plain truth was he hated being completely alone even more than he hated being in a crowd.

His fists tightened on the varnished wood railing until he wouldn't have been surprised to see the imprint of his fingers digging into the wood. He was used to people jumping when he spoke. To his employees practically doing backflips to accommodate his wishes. He liked dropping in on his favorite casino in Monte Carlo and spending the night with whatever blonde, brunette or redhead was the most convenient. He liked the sounds of champagne bottles popping and crystal clinking, and the muted sound of sophisticated laughter. He was accustomed to picking up a phone and ordering a meal. To calling his pilot to get his jet ready to leave at a moment's notice.

Yet now he knew he couldn't go anywhere.

And that was the real irritant chewing at him. Nathan hadn't stayed in any one place for more than three or four days since he was a kid. Which was exactly how he wanted it. Knowing that he was trapped on top of this damned mountain for a damned month was enough to make him want to call his pilot now.

Why he didn't was a mystery to him.

“Hunter, you really owe me big time,” he said and didn't know whether to look toward heaven or hell as he uttered the words.

Hunter Palmer had been a good guy, but reaching out from beyond the grave to put Nathan through this should have earned him a seat in hell.

“Why did I come here in the first place?” he whispered, asking himself the question and knowing he didn't have an answer.

Old loyalties was not a good enough reason.

It has been ten years since Hunter had died. Ten years since Nathan had even thought of those days, of the friend he'd lost too young. Of the five others who had been such a huge part of his life. He'd moved on. Built his world just the way he wanted it and didn't give a damn what anyone else had to say about it. That pledge the Samurai had made to one another? It seemed to come from another lifetime.

He thought briefly of the framed photos of the Seven Samurai, as they'd called themselves back then, hanging here in the upstairs hall. Every time he passed them, he deliberately looked away. Studying the past was for archaeologists. Not barristers. He didn't owe Hunter or any of the others anything. College friendships were routinely left behind as life continued on. So why in hell was he here?

A bird skimmed the water's surface, its wings stretched wide, its shadow moving on the lake as if it had a life of its own. “And even the damn bird is freer than I am.”

Pushing away from the rail, he turned his back on the expansive view of nature's beauty and walked back into what he was already considering his cell.

He glanced at the television, then rejected the idea of turning it on. There were plenty of books to read, and even a state-of-the-art office loft upstairs but he couldn't imagine sitting still long enough to truly accomplish anything, at the moment, all he could do was prowl. He could take a walk, but he might just keep on walking, right down the mountain to the airport where his private Gulfstream waited for him.

“I'm never gonna make the whole damn month,” he muttered, shoving one hand through his hair and turning toward the table where his laptop sat open.

He took a seat, hit a few keys and checked his e-mail as soon as the Internet connection came through. Two new letters were there, one each from the managers of the London and Tokyo Barrister hotels.

Once he'd dealt with their questions about his schedule, Nathan was at a loss again. There was only so much work he could do long-distance. After all, if he wasn't there in person, he couldn't scowl at his employees.

When the doorbell rang, he jumped to his feet. This is what he'd come to, then. Grateful for an interruption. For someone—anyone—to interrupt the silence that continued to claw at him. He closed the laptop and stalked across the great room to the front door.

When he opened the door, he said, “I should have guessed it would be you.”

Keira grinned, slipped past him into the house and then turned to look at him. “You're going to need a coat.”

Nathan closed the door and didn't admit even to himself that he was glad to see her. As annoying as she was, she was, at least, another voice in this damned quiet.

“I'm warm enough, thanks.”

“No, I mean, the potluck is outside so you'll really need a coat.” She turned again and walked into the great room as if she belonged there. Her voice echoed in the high-ceilinged room and her footsteps sounded like a heartbeat. “We could have held the dinner at the courthouse, but it's a little cramped and the band said it would be easier to set up outside.”

“The band?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, looking around as if she hadn't just seen the place the day before, “it's a local group. Super Leo. They play mostly rock but they'll take requests, too, and they're good guys. They all grew up here.”

“Fascinating,” Nathan said, moving to the edge of the foyer, leaning one shoulder against the wall and crossing one foot over the other as he watched her move. Damn, the woman looked good.

It was the solitude getting to him. The only explanation why he was interested in a short, mouthy redhead when ordinarily, he never would have looked at her twice. The fact that he'd only been “enjoying” this solitude for a day didn't really matter.

“The town council approved new lights for this year, so the square will be bright as day with plenty of room for dancing. When I left they were already setting the food out on the tables and the band was tuning up, so we really should get going if you don't want to miss anything.”

“Miss anything?” Nathan shook his head. “I told you yesterday that I had no interest in going to your town party or whatever.”

“Well, I didn't think you meant it.”

“Why not?”

“Who wouldn't want to go to a party?”

“Me.” Now, if the party were in St. Tropez, or Gstaad, he'd be right there. But a small-town party in the middle of Nowhere, U.S.A.? No, thanks.

She stared at him as if he'd just grown another head. Then she shrugged and went on as if he hadn't said a word.

“The town council was incredibly grateful for your donation.”

“You told them?” An uncomfortable itch settled between his shoulder blades. He didn't mind donating money. It was simply a part of who he was. But he preferred anonymity. He didn't want gratitude. He just wanted to be left alone.

But even as he thought this, he realized that he'd been complaining about the solitude just a minute before.

“Of course I told them,” she said, picking up a throw pillow from the couch and fluffing it before she dropped it back into place. “Who am I, Santa? Dropping money into the town coffers without an explanation? I don't think so. They all want to meet you, to thank you for your generosity.”

“Not necessary.”

“Oh, but it really is,” she said and reached down to straighten a stack of magazines strewn across the coffee table. “If you don't come to the potluck so everyone can meet you …”

“Yeah?”

She shrugged. “Then I guess everyone will just have to come to you.”

Nathan sighed. She was blackmailing him into attending her damned town function. And doing a pretty good job of it, too. If he didn't go, he had no doubt that she'd lead droves of citizens up the mountain to intrude on the lodge. He'd be hip-deep in people before he knew it.

“Extortion?”

“Let's call it judicial negotiations.”

“And if I go to the party, you'll leave me alone.”

She held up one hand like a Girl Scout salute and said, “I so solemnly swear.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Gee, attractive, crabby and smart.”

A smile twitched at his mouth, but he fought it into submission. No point in encouraging her any.

“Fine. I'll go.”

“Wow,” she said, patting her hand over her heart, “I'm all excited.”

Her green eyes were shining and a smile curved her tantalizing mouth. The gray sweater she wore beneath a black leather jacket outlined the swell of her breasts, and her faded jeans and battered boots made her look too tempting to a man who was going to be trapped on a damn mountaintop for a month.

So Nathan got a grip on his hormonal overdrive and turned to the hall closet. He opened it, snatched out his brown leather jacket and pulled it on over his dark green cashmere sweater.

A few minutes ago, he'd been complaining that he was too alone. Now, he was going to a block party, of all things.

Be careful what you wish for.

Keira sneaked glances at him as she drove down the mountain. His profile was enough to make her heart stutter and when he turned his head to look at her, she almost drove into a tree.

“Whoops.” She over-straightened and her snow tires slipped a little on an icy patch of road.

“Was this a ploy to get me on the road long enough to kill me?”

“Everything's fine,” she said, tightening her grip on the wheel. “But would you like to take a look around before we head into town?”

“No, thanks.” He checked the gold watch on his left wrist. “I can only spare an hour or two.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Ah. Good reason.” Keira smiled and followed the curve of the road. There was a steep drop-off beyond the white barrier and Nathan glanced down into the abyss.

“Look,” he said, “I'm only coming to this party to avoid the alternative.”

“Don't worry, you'll be glad you came.”

“Why do you care if I attend this party or not?”

“Why?” She risked another glance at him as soon as the road straightened, then turned her gaze ahead again. “You and the others who'll stay at the lodge after you are doing something tremendous for our town. Why wouldn't we want to thank you for that?”

He shifted uncomfortably on the truck seat. “I can't speak for the others, but I'm not doing this for you or your town.”

“Then why?”

His mouth flattened into a grim line. “It's not important.”

“But it's important enough for you to come here. To stay for a month?”

Still scowling, he said, “I'm here. As to the month … I don't know.”

A small spear of panic jolted through Keira at the thought that he might leave. If he did, then, according to the terms of the will she'd read, the town of Hunter's Landing would get nothing and the lakeside mansion would be sold.

She couldn't let that happen.

She had to convince Nathan Barrister to stay for the whole month. And maybe the best way to do that was to show him the town he and his friends were going to help. To let him see firsthand what a difference a month of his time could make to all of them.

But if he really wanted to go, how could she make him stay?

“But you agreed to the month.”

“I did,” he said, and she sensed, more than saw, him shrug his broad shoulders. “But I don't know that it's feasible. I have businesses to watch over. Places I'm supposed to be.”