Millionaire Playboys: Paying the Playboy's Price
- -
- 100%
- +
The newspaper Juliana had left on his kitchen table hadn’t improved his mood. Sure, the auction article had generated additional business as he’d hoped. They’d had the best weekend crowd yet, but too many customers had asked him about his romance with Juliana. They wanted a freaking fairy-tale ending and that wasn’t going to happen. She might be a banking princess, but he’d proven he wasn’t prince material.
He finished wiping down the bar and pitched his rag into the bucket of cleaning solution. “I didn’t expect her to keep Becky and Liza at her place all weekend.”
“What are you complaining about? You got your bed back, and she and the squirts aren’t underfoot.” Danny didn’t have kids of his own, but he still lived at home and he had a gaggle of younger siblings whom he claimed were always in the way. “Go.”
Rex glanced at his watch. Five o’clock. If he left now, he’d have time to take a quick shower and then play with the girls before dinner. “All right. I’m going. Call Juliana’s if you need me. Number’s by the phone.”
Forty minutes later, he parked his truck in the driveway beside Juliana’s sedan, climbed the stairs and rang her doorbell. No one responded to the bell or his knock, but using his key was too damned domesticated for him. He walked around to the back of the end-unit town house, but the girls weren’t on the patio, and he couldn’t see them through the French doors. Damn. He dug his key out of his pocket and let himself in. Using the key did not mean he and Juliana had a relationship beyond the girls and the lessons.
“Juliana? Becky? Liza?” Silence echoed back.
Bottles of nail polish stood like a line of candy-colored fence posts on the kitchen table, corralling a neat pile of hair ribbons and an assortment of other girlie stuff. Juliana’s purse leaned against a stack of child-care and babysitting books on the hall table. That she cared enough to try to learn more about his nieces shouldn’t get to him, but it did.
How could he have been so wrong in his initial assessment that she had more money than brains? He shrugged off his growing admiration. The last thing he needed was to soften up around her. Liking her and appreciating her generosity didn’t change the fact that he was in debt up to his neck to her family, or that she was looking for a walk on the wild side and he wasn’t. She wanted excitement and he wanted…
What did he want? Roots? Maybe. He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. One of these days, when the bar was on a firmer footing, he wouldn’t mind having someone to come home to, but he’d made more than his share of mistakes and let a lot of people down. He shook his head. Even if he did decide to take a chance—one he was sure he’d blow—on something long-term, a banking heiress wouldn’t be interested in anything permanent from a long-haired biker with a highway education and a wardrobe consisting of jeans and T-shirts with the Renegade logo on the back. She’d end up with a college-educated GQ guy in a suit. A man like the other bachelors at the charity auction.
Juliana and the girls couldn’t be far if her purse and car were here. He locked up and headed for the playground. Excited, happy squeals made him detour toward the nearby pool. A couple of dozen folks populated the fenced area. Becky’s rebel yell drew his gaze to the shallow end. She launched herself from the side of the pool and hit the water with a decent splash, but bobbed back to the surface thanks to a new hot-pink life jacket. Next, he spotted Liza, also sporting a new life jacket in smiley-face yellow, her favorite color. She dog-paddled toward a slender, dark-haired woman whose mostly bare back faced him.
Juliana. He didn’t need to see her face to recognize her. Every male hormone in his body pointed her out like a hunting dog signaled quail. The line of her naked spine and the curve of her waist in the hip-deep water brought a flood of moisture to his mouth and kicked his heart into a staccato beat. Her two-piece swimsuit wasn’t skimpy by today’s standards, but knowing only a few scraps of fabric separated him from her bare skin hit him with the blast of a spotlight. Sweat oozed from his pores. His black shirt and jeans magnified his reaction by absorbing every hot ray of the evening sunshine. Her low and husky laugh at Becky’s antics only increased his discomfort.
Juliana ducked under the water, and Liza squealed and squirmed with joy and then cackled when Juliana shot out of the water, slicked back her hair and gently splashed Becky. Apparently, the banker had a playful side and the urge to play with her was getting damned hard for Rex to ignore. He gripped the white picket fence and struggled to corral his stampeding hormones.
“Uncle Rex!” Becky yelled.
Cover blown. He gritted a smile, ordered his body to behave and shoved open the gate. Juliana jerked around to face him and he nearly tripped over a seam in the sidewalk. Her breasts were round, pale, perfect and far too exposed in a blue top the exact shade of her eyes for his peace of mind.
“Wook, Unca Wex.” Liza’s voice drew his attention away from forbidden territory. “I swimmen.”
“And doing a great job of it, sweet pea. Hey, Beck, killer cannonball.” Becky responded by hauling herself out of the pool and launching another one, this one soaking him. He welcomed the cool water on his overheated skin.
“We’ve had a busy day.” Juliana’s quiet words forced him to look at her again—something he’d rather not do until she covered up from ears to ankles. “They should sleep well tonight.”
At the sight of all that creamy, curvaceous flesh on display, words failed him. He grunted an affirmative.
“Is something wrong? You’re supposed to be working.” She folded her arms across her middle, which should have helped his concentration since it covered a lot of skin, but the move pushed her breasts farther out of her suit, resulting in a negative effect on his brain function. It took him a few seconds to weed her question out of his testosterone-induced fog.
“Danny’s closing. I thought I’d take the girls out to dinner and then head back to my place. Tomorrow’s my day off, so I’ll keep ’em tonight and you can sleep in your own bed.” He glanced at Becky and Liza in time to see their faces fall.
Juliana waded toward the pool steps. “We’d planned to grill kebabs tonight, and we’ve made homemade ice cream. Why don’t you join us for dinner?”
Bad idea. How could he get out of it? “Kebabs?”
“We stuck ’em,” Liza said in as bloodthirsty a tone as he’d ever heard from a three-year-old. He grabbed her upraised hands, lifted her from the pool and set her on the concrete.
Juliana bit her lip, but she couldn’t hide the smile twitching on her mouth. The mischievous sparkle in her eyes slammed the breath right out of him. “The girls helped me assemble the kebabs. We bought the ice-cream freezer when we bought the life jackets. Cooking together seemed like a good activity.”
“Right. Dinner sounds good.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.
Becky vaulted out and gave him a soggy hug. He ruffled her wet hair with a surprisingly unsteady hand.
Juliana rose from the pool like a nymph in a wet dream. Rivulets of water cascaded over the peaks and valleys of a truly lust-worthy body. His throat closed and his skin ignited. The little flirty skirt of her bathing suit bottom stopped an inch below her navel, and the wet fabric clung to her hips like a second skin.
He exhaled slowly and turned his back on what he couldn’t have to help the girls dry off. The week ahead yawned like an eternity.
“Wook.” Liza lifted her hands. He blinked away the sensual haze clouding his vision, knelt beside Liza and focused on her tiny, pale pink-tipped nails. “Oo-liana painted dem.”
“Pretty.”
Juliana stopped beside them. Her toenails bore the same shade of polish. Rex fought the urge to trace the long, lean line of her legs with his gaze and lost. From his kneeling position on the concrete, the sight of those perfect breasts at eye level wreaked no end of havoc below his belt. Frustration and futility rose inside him.
Surrender man and be done with it.
No way. Too much to lose.
He stood and met the gaze of the woman determined to bring him to his knees. Damned if she didn’t have him like a fish on the hook, and fighting the line wasn’t getting him anywhere but reeled in and too tired to care. Unless he wanted to be left on the dock gasping for air, then he had to do something fast.
But he had a feeling it was too late.
Six
Rex prowled around Juliana’s den like a caged animal. Examining an item here, looking out a window there, but never remaining still for more than a few seconds.
With her senses hyperaware of each shift of his muscular frame, Juliana sipped her favorite locally produced peach wine and tugged at the hem of the sundress she’d changed into after returning from the pool.
The fuchsia dress had hung in her closet unworn for years because the bodice dipped lower than she liked, and the hem was inches higher than comfortable. She’d bought it and the ridiculously high-heeled matching sandals for a cruise she, Andrea and Holly had scheduled to celebrate their twenty-seventh birthdays but had never taken due to Juliana’s emergency appendectomy.
“I’ll repay you for everything you’ve spent on Irma, the life jackets, the doll clothes, whatever. How much do I owe ya?” Rex’s gaze raked her exposed skin for the third time. He glanced away and looked again, convincing Juliana that her sexy dress was worth every penny she’d paid for it even if she never wore it again.
She crossed her legs and then smoothed her hem. Rex’s eyes tracked each movement. Hmm. Interesting. Leaning forward, she deposited her wineglass on the coffee table and hooked a finger beneath the thin gold chain at her neck. Rex’s dark eyes fastened on the stroke of her fingers inside the V-neck of her bodice. His Adam’s apple bobbed.
A sense of feminine power swelled inside her. He was attracted to her. What would it take to break through his restraint? C’mon, bad boy, corrupt me.
What had he said again? Oh, yes. “Your sister is covering Irma’s salary. The rest…” She shrugged and gestured to where Becky and Liza played dress-up with their dolls in the corner. “It’s my pleasure. The girls and I are having fun.”
“I insist.”
“Your sister said you would. The answer’s still no, Rex.” She kicked her ankle just a little, dangling the sandal from her toes just to see if he’d watch. He did. She bit the inside of her lip to stop a pleased smile.
His fists clenched and unclenched. “Kelly called this morning. Mike made it through surgery and he’s stable. Now it’s a wait-and-see game, but the doctors are optimistic.”
She uncrossed her legs and shifted on the sofa. The move inched her hem higher—a bonus she hadn’t anticipated. “For Kelly and the girls’ sake I hope he pulls through.”
“Yeah.” The word was little more than a grunt. His gaze never left her legs.
“Are you sure you don’t want some wine? I’m sorry I don’t have beer.” She leaned forward to retrieve her glass and savored the shift of his eyes to her cleavage. Her nipples tightened.
A femme fatale is born. The incongruity of the statement nearly made her laugh out loud. She loved the way Rex’s hot glances made her feel all restless and warm. Parts of her body tingled that had never tingled before.
“No thanks.”
Sometimes an account investigation led her in a surprising direction. She’d learned to trust her instincts and go with it. “Then could you stop pacing and sit down?” She patted the cushion beside her. “You’re making the girls nervous.”
A lie. The girls had quit watching him circle the room ten minutes ago, but each pass of those lean hips through her line of vision pushed her closer to sensory overload. My gosh, she was ogling him and his um…parts, and she really wanted to know if he lived up to the promise in those jeans. Her bold thoughts made her cheeks burn.
He lowered himself into a chair on the opposite side of the coffee table, rested his elbows on his knees and then propped his head in his hands. Juliana studied his thick hair, the tense line of his shoulders and tightened her fingers around the stem of her wineglass instead of reaching across the distance to touch him the way she wanted. She’d never considered herself a sensual or tactile person, but the better she got to know Rex, the harder it was to resist the urge to touch him. His sleek hair. His rough jaw. His hard muscles.
She didn’t lack initiative in her professional life, but in her personal life she’d definitely be classified as a slow-starter. In light of Rex’s reaction tonight, she almost looked forward to making a move. Almost.
He lifted his head suddenly and his coffee-colored eyes pinned her in place. “Why me? The truth this time.”
The wine in her glass sloshed over her fingers. Stalling, she dabbed at the liquid with a tissue. He wouldn’t accept an evasive answer this time, she’d bet, and she wasn’t a gambling person. Her gaze flicked to the girls in the corner. How much did she dare explain? “Because I have a nice life.”
“What?” He sounded as if he thought she’d lost her mind.
“I’m thirty years old. I have a nice car, a nice home and a nice job. Nice is bland and boring. Like me. I hoped your auction package might jar me out of my ‘nice’ rut. There has to be more to life than nice, and if there is I don’t want to miss out.”
Wary understanding softened his eyes and then he leaned back in the chair and clasped his hands over his flat belly—a relaxed pose, but the intense look in his eyes was anything but relaxed. “I used to want more, too. And then I realized that more wasn’t as great as it sounded.”
She savored the tiny insight into his thoughts. “Your music career?”
Seconds ticked past as he studied his knotted fingers. “Yeah. I couldn’t wait to get off that ranch and be somebody besides Reed Tanner’s boy. Then I was. And everybody wanted me to be somebody else.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The record execs, my manager and my publicist signed me because I was different. And then they tried to turn me into a carbon copy of every other guy on the charts.”
“But you made it to the top without sounding like everyone else.” She wasn’t a country music fan, so her comparison wasn’t firsthand, but she’d read the online articles touting Rex’s unique sound and fresh way with words, and she enjoyed his music.
“I made it because I fought ’em every step of the way. The point is, you don’t have to try to be somebody you’re not.”
But who was she exactly? Until the pressure to marry Wally had come about, Juliana had been certain she knew. For as far back as she could remember, she’d been groomed to take her place in the Alden Bank executive offices. That goal had always taken precedence over anything and anyone else. And she’d been happy with that decision. A life without emotional ups and downs suited her. She’d had a ringside seat when Andrea had fallen head-over-heels in love and when her friend had crash-landed with a broken heart. Afterward, Juliana had considered guarding her heart and avoiding the same kind of pain a good idea.
But now she had her doubts. Look at Irma. Her former nanny had dedicated herself to a career of caring for other women’s children. Now that age had forced Irma to retire from the job that had defined her, what did she have left? Nothing. No family. No hobbies. Juliana didn’t want to be left with nothing, but she wasn’t sure meekly falling in with her mother’s plans was the answer.
The foundation she’d built her life on was shaking and she didn’t know if it would settle or crumble beneath her.
She lifted her gaze to the man in front of her. “Was fighting for what you wanted worth it?”
If it had been, then why had he left his dreams behind?
He shot to his feet. “Becoming my own man was a journey I had to take, but I was selfish. I hurt people along the way. And I let ’em down. I shouldn’t have.”
Who had he let down? And how?
Before she could ask, he turned to Becky and Liza. “Girls, we gotta go. Get your stuff and say good night.”
Juliana wanted to dig deeper, but in the hustle to gather the girls’ belongings there wasn’t time or opportunity for questions. She walked the trio to Rex’s truck and helped buckle the girls into their car seats. First Liza and then Becky insisted on giving her a hug and kiss good-night, and the gestures tugged at Juliana’s heart.
“Thanks for dinner,” he said as he started the truck.
Juliana stepped back, folded her arms and watched them drive out of sight. Would she ever have children? The odds didn’t favor her chances. At thirty years old, she’d never come close to finding a man with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life. Sure, she’d had relationships, but her dedication to her job had always outweighed her commitment to the man in question, and none of her dates had ever interested her enough to make her want to leave work early or take a day off. If not for Andrea and Holly, she’d probably never take a vacation.
If you marry Wally, you could have children. Yet another plus in the Wally column. So why couldn’t she just agree to the engagement and be done with it? Why vacillate? Was she being unrealistic to want more than a good rapport with her spouse? Was true intimacy a fallacy perpetuated by romantic books and movies? And was she even capable of letting someone get that close?
Juliana’s office door burst open Monday just before lunch. She marked her place on the ledger with a finger and glanced up. Her mother’s scowl turned Juliana’s stomach into a hornet’s nest. Clearly, the avoidance punishment had ended. “Hello, Mother.”
Margaret Alden slapped a newspaper onto Juliana’s desk. “This is outrageous.”
The Saturday edition lay open to Octavia Jenkins’s column, “Love at Any Price?” Juliana masked a wince. So much for hoping her mother would miss the article. “Octavia is trying to sell papers, and she’s supporting your pet charity. Did you notice she gave the address to which donations can be mailed?”
“Have you read this? Do you realize the damage she’s done to your engagement?”
Juliana should have known her mother wouldn’t ask her if she had feelings for Rex or if the column was off base. They’d never had that kind of relationship. No, Juliana had shared her confidences with Irma, Andrea and Holly.
“I’m not engaged yet, and if you read the entire article, then you’ll see that Octavia has also implied a romantic entanglement between Wally and Donna and Eric and Holly.”
Juliana had hated reading about her brother and her best friend, and she hoped Octavia had her facts wrong, and yet Juliana was afraid to call Holly and find out. “You know those aren’t true.”
“I certainly hope Eric isn’t involved with Holly. She has disappointed her parents terribly by living out in that shack like a bohemian.”
“It’s not a shack. It’s a restored farmhouse and her studio.” She’d said the words so many times before they came out in a singsong chorus.
“And Wallace knows better. That woman is not one of us.”
The snobbery offended Juliana. She should have been used to it by now since she’d heard it her entire life. “You mean she wasn’t born wealthy and didn’t have everything handed to her on a silver platter?”
Her mother’s nose lifted. “You and Eric didn’t have everything handed to you.”
“Yes, we did, Mother. Everything except respect, which we’ve had to fight an uphill battle to earn.” And our parents’ attention, which seemed connected to perfect behavior, Juliana added silently. The friends she’d had in school who’d dared to disobey had been shipped off to boarding school. Juliana had always followed the rules for fear of being sent away from Irma, Andrea, Holly and home.
“I’m calling the newspaper to have Ms. Jenkins removed from this series.”
Juliana sighed and pushed back an errant strand of hair. “Sex sells, Mother. Octavia is doing her job.”
“Are you saying you’re having sex with that…that man?”
A rush of heat swept Juliana’s face. “No, but even if I were sleeping with Rex, it wouldn’t be any of your business.”
“Don’t make it my business by ruining this merger. By this time next year, Alden-Wilson will be the largest privately held bank in the southeast, and I will be the CEO.”
“Only if Mr. Wilson is willing to step aside, and from what Wally has said, his father’s not all that interested in being second in command. Mother, you may not win this one.” Juliana admired her mother’s ambition. All her life, she’d heard tales of how Margaret Alden had had it all—husband, family and career. Juliana wanted it all, too.
A smug smile curved her mother’s lips. “Let me worry about that. You worry about making amends with Wallace. And make sure this little hussy isn’t encroaching on your territory. Don’t let me down, Juliana. This merger is far too important for you to jeopardize it with an unsuitable fling. Are we clear?”
She stalked out of Juliana’s office as abruptly as she’d entered it.
Juliana sat back in her chair. Don’t let me down. The battle cry of her life. But this time the feeling that the merger might be more important to her mother than Juliana’s life and happiness unsettled her.
The suffocating straitjacket feeling that had driven her to buying the baddest bachelor on the block closed in on her, squeezing her ribs and compressing her lungs.
Last chance. Last chance.
She had to get out of here. She closed the ledger, withdrew her purse from her desk drawer and locked up. On the way out, she paused by her administrative assistant’s desk. “I’m leaving for the day.”
And then she turned her back on the woman’s gaping mouth, walked out into the afternoon sunshine, took a deep breath of the hot, humid air and tasted freedom.
Trapped in his own damned apartment.
Rex knew he could lie, claim he had business downstairs and escape, leaving Juliana to listen for the girls. But he wasn’t a coward. In the past, his failure to face his mistakes had cost him. He wouldn’t run again. He’d agreed to the auction, agreed to keep the girls. That meant any fallout from those choices was his and his alone.
But damn. A man could only take so much, and his resistance had been slipping since Juliana had surprised him and the girls at the barn this afternoon with a picnic lunch. She’d spent the next four hours laughing, teasing and playing with Liza and Becky, and he’d discovered yet another facet to the formerly uptight auditor. A side he liked too much.
Restless, edgy and as horny as hell, he paced his den. A beautiful woman wanted him. The feeling was mutual. Why did he keep fighting the hunger that chewed him from the inside out? Because sleeping with Juliana would be mixing business with pleasure. Always a bad idea. But more important was that giving in to the craving inside him would open the door to his biggest weakness.
But he ached for her. The smell of her. The taste of her. The feel of her. Wrapped around him. Just once.
Fool. Having a little sex with Juliana is about as safe as a recovering alcoholic taking just one drink. You’ll be sucked back into the world that almost destroyed you so fast you’ll never recover.
Juliana stepped out of the girls’ bedroom and closed the door. Rex’s stomach hit the soles of his boots.
She looked like a combination of angel and siren with her sable hair hanging loose. The strands teased her bare shoulders and the cleavage revealed by a fragile, fluttery pale blue top that ended a couple of inches above low-rider jeans. A wide woven belt circled her hips with its tasseled ties swaying over no-man’s-land with every hypnotizing stride she took toward him. Those tassels affected his libido like a flashing neon Come and Get It sign.
He dragged his gaze up to the half smile on her face. Trouble. Pure trouble. Sweat oozed from his pores, dampening his upper lip, chest and back. His heart drummed harder, faster. His breathing turned shallow.