Just say you will

Plenty of women have tried to capture the treasurer of the San Diego chapter of the Millionaire Moguls, Vaughn Ellicott—and his impressive bank account. When the former naval officer meets a gorgeous stranger in need of help, he surprises himself by offering her a mutually beneficial deal. Career-minded Vaughn tells himself that their business arrangement will get his family off his back. But suddenly that’s not nearly as important as getting his beautiful new bride into bed...

Hotel manager Miranda Jensen needs to marry to inherit her grandfather’s fortune. Now the perfect solution to her problem has become handsomely complicated. Between private evenings at Vaughn’s lavish beachfront estate and glittering public events on his arm, she begins to truly fall for him in their pretend affair. And soon Miranda’s no longer able to settle for less than love. Will Vaughn choose to turn make-believe into passionate reality?

YAHRAH ST. JOHN is the author of twenty-seven books. When she’s not at home crafting one of her sexy romances with compelling heroes and feisty heroines with a dash of family drama, she can be found in the kitchen cooking one of her gourmet meals discovered on the Food Network for her husband. Or this thrill-seeking junkie can be found traveling the globe seeking out her new adventure. A graduate of Hyde Park Career Academy, she earned a bachelor of arts degree in English from Northwestern University. St. John is a member of Romance Writers of America, but is an avid reader of all genres. She lives in sunny Orlando, the City Beautiful, where there’s great weather all year round. For more information, please visit www.yahrahstjohn.com.

Also By Yahrah St. John

Two to Tango

Need You Now

Lost Without You

Formula for Passion

Delicious Destiny

A Chance with You

Heat Wave of Desire

Cappuccino Kisses

Taming Her Tycoon

Miami After Hours

Taming Her Billionaire

His San Diego Sweetheart

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

His San Diego Sweetheart

Yahrah St. John

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08272-3

HIS SAN DIEGO SWEETHEART

© 2018 Harlequin Books S.A.

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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“Hope you don’t mind getting dirty,” Vaughn said as the cabdriver drove them to the restaurant. His thigh was inches from hers and he could feel himself getting further and further turned on by this woman and they hadn’t even touched yet.

“I don’t mind,” Miranda said. “In fact, the dirtier the better. Though I do wish I’d opted to change clothes.” She looked down at her attire.

“Why?” Vaughn asked, glancing in her direction. “You look beautiful.”

“But a bit overdressed for the beach, right?” She laughed.

He smiled. “A bit. That’s what makes you so adorable.” He reached across the short distance between them and tucked a wayward strand of hair that had fallen in her face behind her ear. When she looked up at him, her eyes were filled with desire. Vaughn wanted to sweep his mouth across hers and taste her, but the car came to a stop.

“We’re here!” she said brightly.

Yes, we are, Vaughn thought. If the car hadn’t come to a halt, it was a certainty he would have acted on the rampant desire he felt for Miranda.

Dear Reader,

His San Diego Sweetheart is an exciting new book in the Millionaire Moguls series featuring three heroes: Vaughn Ellicott, Jordan Jace and Christopher Marland. Vaughn is a former navy man turned sexy surfer with a billion-dollar surfing business. He has no time for love because he never received it growing up as a child, but that doesn’t stop him from risking his heart when he offers Miranda Jensen a marriage of convenience to save her inheritance.

Heightening the drama is a delicious sabotage subplot in the Millionaire Moguls organization. To find out who’s the saboteur, pick up the next installment in the series: Seduced in San Diego by Reese Ryan.

I enjoyed researching San Diego and learning about surfing. With my adventurous streak, I may even try it one day.

For more info, visit my website, www.yahrahstjohn.com, to download my latest ebooks or write me at yahrah@yahrahstjohn.com.

Best,

Yahrah St. John

Acknowledgments

To my newest right hand, Christy Massie. Thank you for the encouragement and morale boost!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

Extract

Chapter 1

Vaughn Ellicott, Jr. sliced through the crashing surf at San Diego’s Black Beach on his custom-made surfboard. Surfing was his own piece of heaven and gave Vaughn the freedom he desperately craved after the rigors of Navy life as a lieutenant. For a decade, he’d done as he was instructed because that was what his father, Commander Vaughn Ellicott, Sr., expected of him. But now, Vaughn did what he wanted to do and surfing was as natural to him as breathing, even though at six foot two, he towered over some of the other surfers. When he was in the water, he felt an inner peace with Mother Nature as he challenged himself on the waves. He saw the waves as opportunities to lose himself and find himself at the same time.

And he had found himself. Five years ago, he’d started a company, Elite. After he began designing his own wet suits, other surfers had begun showing interest in his work. Seeing a business opportunity, he’d formed Elite and sold his wet suits online. From there, sales had skyrocketed. His high-end scuba gear company now sold dive computers and any other gear a surfer needed, from surfboards and bags, to leashes and wax. The fact that his business interests mirrored his passion was perfect for Vaughn.

Even though it was nearly the weekend, it was long past time for him to depart the beach. Vaughn should have left thirty minutes ago. He was due to attend a meeting of Prescott George—the Millionaire Moguls club, as the press liked to dub them. The nickname had been given to them because their national organization was comprised mainly of millionaires. The club had been formed in the 1940s by Prescott Owens and George Rollins. Today, Prescott George’s numbers had grown into the thousands and there were chapters all over the world. Vaughn was proud to be a member and the treasurer of the San Diego chapter.

Emerging from the Pacific Ocean carrying his surfboard, Vaughn began peeling off his wet suit when a pair of feminine eyes caught his gaze. She was giving him the once-over. And he didn’t mind the attention; he was used to it. In social circles, he was a sought-after millionaire bachelor with an impressive seaside estate. And on the beach, he was looked up to because of his fearlessness and passion for the sport.

Vaughn had no trouble attracting women. Any kind of woman. So much so that he couldn’t get a moment’s peace. Women adored his physique which he spent a great deal of time honing, and his impressive assets, but Vaughn had yet to find one worth keeping around. They all seemed a little too eager to be with a Millionaire Mogul, and so he dealt with them with a long-handled spoon, engaging only when he wanted companionship or needed physical release.

Vaughn gave the beautiful stranger one final intense stare. Long silky dark hair. Expressive almond-shaped eyes. Tawny brown skin slightly kissed from the sun. Although she was wearing a sleeveless dress, it was a bit too formal and didn’t fit with the unusually warm spring afternoon. Her only admission that she knew she was at the beach was the fact that she’d kicked off her pumps and they lay partially submerged in the sand. Maybe that was why she stood out.

But there was something sad about her though. And as much as Vaughn would love to find out her story, he was late. He purposefully trudged through the sand toward the locker room so he could get changed into business attire. Today was important for the San Diego chapter. Today, the Moguls had visitors. Joshua DeLong and Daniel Cobb, co-presidents of the national chapter in Miami, were in town.

There were rumors that San Diego could be awarded Chapter of the Year. Vaughn certainly hoped that was the case; it would be a prestigious honor. The chapter had been successful in attracting younger members to the organization, but it hadn’t come without drama. Some of the older members of Prescott George were less enthused. They felt like they were being pushed out to make room for a younger, hipper generation, which simply wasn’t true. Vaughn believed in the Moguls motto: From generation to generation, lifting each other up. If they didn’t pull in the next generation, how could they possibly continue providing college scholarships to needy students and funding to inner-city organizations?

All of these thoughts coursed through Vaughn’s mind as he took a quick shower, changed into a designer black suit with pinstriped tie and headed for his Ferrari California T in the parking lot. He smiled when he saw the expensive sports vehicle with its turbocharged engine and drop top. For such a new company, Elite had done quite well in the marketplace and afforded Vaughn the luxury of a fancy car, private jet and a beachside mansion in La Jolla. Before turning on the engine, he glanced back at the beach, wondering why a woman as beautiful as that stranger looked so forlorn. He shrugged. Wasn’t his problem. He had bigger fish to fry. He turned the ignition, the Ferrari roared to life and Vaughn sped away.

* * *

The San Diego Prescott George chapter was located inside a historic brewery near the East Village. Vaughn parked outside the renovated, environmentally friendly building and strode inside. He walked through the offices, glancing around at the exposed brick, loft ceilings and state-of-the-art canopy lighting that made up the Moguls club as he headed to the all-glass conference room. As in other Prescott George offices, pictures of their founding members, Prescott Owens and George Rollins, hung on the walls, reminding them of who started the organization. The meeting was already underway and multiple sets of eyes glowered at Vaughn as he made his way near the head of the table where Christopher Marland, the chapter’s president, sat next to two strangers who Vaughn could only assume were Daniel Cobb and Joshua DeLong.

Vaughn gave a halfhearted smile as he sat down. “Sorry. I was unavoidably detained.”

“By what? A wave?” Another member guffawed.

Several other members at the table chuckled softly at the joke, but they immediately stopped when Vaughn glared at them.

“You might want to wipe off the evidence,” Christopher concurred as he reached across the table and brushed sand off Vaughn’s shoulder.

Darn! He thought he’d caught it all. It wasn’t easy changing into a suit at a beach locker room. Perhaps he should endow the county with a new state-of-the art facility to ensure something like this didn’t happen again?

“Getting back to business,” Christopher said, returning his focus to the meeting. “We’re pleased that the chapter is being graced with such an honor.”

“So, it’s true?” Vaughn interrupted him. “We’re Chapter of the Year?”

“That’s right,” one of his Miami brethren replied. He was tall and fair-skinned with striking blue eyes. Vaughn didn’t know brothers could have eyes that color. “We feel that San Diego has shown not only the vision, but the gravitas necessary to propel Prescott George into the future.”

“Daniel Cobb.” The other gentleman reached across the table to shake Vaughn’s hand. “And that’s Joshua DeLong.” He inclined his head to the fair-skinned man beside him. “We know it couldn’t have been easy. There had to be opposition to change, probably as much as we’ve encountered in Miami.”

“You mean when you ousted a Rollins?” an older member asked from the far side of the table.

“No!” Daniel responded hotly. “Ashton realized it was in the best interest of Prescott George to have some new blood with fresh ideas at the helm. He’s still very much involved in the Miami chapter.”

“I doubt that,” the man muttered underneath his breath.

“If you have something to say,” Joshua DeLong responded, “by all means, speak up. We welcome feedback. Good or bad.”

Daniel grabbed Joshua’s arm and whispered something in his ear.

Vaughn couldn’t resist smiling. He liked Joshua DeLong. He was his kind of guy. Just look at his appearance. He wasn’t wearing the customary suit like the rest of the members of Prescott George, Daniel included. He wore trousers and a T-shirt with a blazer he’d probably haphazardly thrown on at the last minute to show he was making an effort. Vaughn understood wanting to dance to the beat of your own drum. It was what he’d been doing for years now that he was no longer an officer in the United States Navy.

The older member remained mum.

“Good then,” Daniel said. “Then, if it’s alright with you—” he turned to Christopher “—we’d like to announce your selection as Chapter of the Year at your annual benefit in a few months.”

“Sounds like a mighty fine idea,” Vaughn chimed in. “It would be great press for the organization and chapter. Don’tcha think?” He glanced around the table at the other members.

“My skills at handling the press are fully at your disposal,” Joshua DeLong said.

“Skills?” Another member laughed. “Infamy is more like it.” Several other members expressed their amusement.

Vaughn stepped in. “It’s those very same tweets, Instagram posts and Snapchats that have helped connect us with new members.”

“You mean the young whippersnappers who can’t be bothered to be here?” The older man glanced around the room.

“They aren’t on the board,” Christopher responded tightly and Vaughn noticed the firm line across his mouth. “That’s why they have mentors to groom them into becoming leaders. It doesn’t happen overnight.”

“I’d love to hear more about this mentorship program,” Daniel responded. “Do you both have time to discuss after the meeting?” He directed his question to Christopher and Vaughn.

“Absolutely,” they both said in unison.

The chapter meeting concluded soon after and Vaughn watched the other members shuffle out of the room. Once the room had cleared, Joshua spoke first. “Looks like you face the same resistance to change that we’ve encountered in Miami.”

“We do.” Christopher nodded.

“How do you combat it?” Daniel inquired.

Vaughn chuckled, but Christopher responded. “Clearly, we haven’t squashed it entirely. We’ve just had to push forward with our agenda.”

“Attracting younger members?” Joshua offered. “Talk to me about this mentorship program.”

“Let’s retire to the lounge for cigars.” Christopher gestured for the men to walk ahead of him.

The lounge housed several large chocolate leather sofas surrounded by modern and edgy furnishings. The men sat in a semicircle and discussed the future of Prescott George. Christopher offered their guests expensive cigars which another member had brought back from Cuba. Eventually, conversation returned to San Diego’s progress with millennials.

“We’ve had some great events like beachside barbecues, art gallery openings and wine tastings, specifically geared to a select group of young millionaires,” Christopher said. “We have a great artist in our midst, Jordan Jace. You may have heard of him?”

Joshua nodded. “I have his work. It’s cutting-edge.”

“Jace is like a lot of our younger members. They like being part of an organization in a limited capacity,” Christopher responded. “Of course, I know our small-time events are a far cry from the charity galas you have in Miami.”

“Hey, that’s how you have to roll in South Beach,” Joshua replied with a chuckle as he leaned back and puffed on a cigar. “Go big or go home.”

“Our chapter does plenty of good work. We just do it in a less traditional format,” Christopher intervened and Vaughn couldn’t help but notice how uptight the man always was. But that was Christopher; he certainly wasn’t Vaughn’s favorite person after he’d dumped his baby sister Eliza all those years ago. Vaughn didn’t think she’d ever truly recovered. He suspected it was why she’d moved to New York, to have a fresh start and get over Christopher. She was back now and keeping a low profile.

Hours later, after they’d shaken hands with their Miami brethren and given them their best advice, Christopher returned to his office to work on an architectural project, but Vaughn was restless. He hadn’t had nearly enough time at the beach today. He’d gone into Elite’s office early that morning and taken care of some pressing business and hadn’t been able to get out to the beach until the late morning. Then, he’d had to cut his surfing time in half because of the Prescott George meeting. He needed to breathe in some fresh, salty ocean air. Hopping into his Ferrari, Vaughn headed back to his second home, the beach.

* * *

Miranda Jensen sucked in several deep breaths. She was glad the surf god who had majestically surfaced from the Pacific Ocean wearing a snug-fitting wet suit was gone. She colored when she thought about how she’d stared so openly at the magnificent specimen of a man. Unabashedly, she’d watched him glide the zipper of his wet suit down as he’d shaken off the excess water. He had a sculpted torso which had revealed hard, defining muscles underneath and eight, yes, eight-pack abs that were impossible to ignore.

The man was ripped!

His chest had been surprisingly smooth and hair-free and Miranda would have loved to flick her tongue across the brown discs of his nipples.

Sweet Jesus!

What was wrong with her?

She’d struggled to gulp in air as he’d walked straight toward her, never taking his eyes off her. At first, she’d thought he was going to make a pass at her. There was obvious interest lurking in those penetrating dark depths. He’d seen her giving him the eye, but instead of talking to her, he’d kept moving, leaving Miranda to wonder if it was because of her man curse. She was still hypersensitive when it came to men these days. How could she not be? She had a bad track record when it came to the opposite sex and the broken heart to prove it.

Since her breakup with Jake, whom she’d thought was the love of her life, Miranda had had a series of unsuccessful relationships. Jake had unceremoniously kicked her to the curb in a favor of a promising career in Japan with a pretty something coworker he’d met abroad. Her rebound guy, Anthony, was a womanizer and notorious cheat. She’d caught him in bed with one of her supposed friends. The last joker, Chris, she’d dated had only been after her money, ingratiating himself into her family in the hopes he’d hit the jackpot. Thankfully, she’d gotten hip to his real agenda before she’d married him; otherwise it would have been a disaster of epic proportions.

And now all Miranda could hear was the sound of a clock ticking in her head.

No, it wasn’t her biological clock.

It was the timer on her fortune, which was about to slip through her fingers if she couldn’t find a groom. She had her grandfather to thank for putting her in the predicament she was in. He’d passed away a couple of months ago and as a condition of his will, he required that his only grandchild, Miranda, marry by the age of thirty or forfeit her inheritance altogether. If she didn’t marry, the huge sum of money that was rightfully hers would go to one of her grandfather’s charities and forever vanquish Miranda’s dream of opening her own upscale bed-and-breakfast by the ocean. Or at least postpone it.

Fury boiled inside Miranda’s veins.

She valued her independence, but perversely she needed to be tied to a man in order to achieve her personal goals.

But this time love would have nothing to do with it.

Miranda didn’t know if she’d been trying too hard to find Mr. Right. Or whether she was just one of those people who were destined to be alone. Nevertheless, the rejections and lies of her former lovers had hardened her heart. She’d vowed that no man would ever hurt her again. If they were after her money, so be it.

But it would be on her terms.

She’d taken a leave of absence from her job as a hotel administrator in Chicago to go husband shopping. She was hoping to find a man and make him an offer he couldn’t refuse: a marriage of convenience with a huge cash payday.

After her Adonis had come out of the sea, Miranda had left the beach and gone to a nearby café for a cool beverage. It was casually chic and she hoped offered a good drink. It wasn’t like she’d been dressed for the beach anyway. Her lace sheath dress was definitely not beach attire and as for her pumps, she was still trying to get the sand out of them.

“Can I get you another drink?” the bartender inquired. “It’s happy hour now and cocktails are half priced.” When she didn’t answer quickly, the bartender walked away to help another customer.

Miranda glanced down at the pomegranate martini she’d been nursing since she arrived. She’d only been in San Diego for twenty-four hours. Her best friend, Sasha Charles, had picked her up from the airport last night and deposited her at her hotel. Sasha had offered Miranda to stay at her place, but Miranda had been adamant that she didn’t want to put her friend out. That wasn’t the real reason. She didn’t want to share her real plans with Sasha because she knew Sasha wouldn’t approve. And so she’d opted to stay at a hotel instead. It was an elegantly appointed hotel that would suffice for what she hoped was a short stay.

Miranda was hoping that she could find Mr. Right quickly enough that she would meet the one-month deadline looming over her head, before her inheritance was given away. Her parents, Tucker and Leigh, were just as upset as she was by her grandfather’s stipulation. She’d been hoping to find a loophole, but her attorneys had been unsuccessful. And now desperate times called for desperate measures.

She was just about to order another martini when the surf god from this morning came strolling into the café. He sat down at the far end of the bar away from her and talked to the bartender. Given the easy rapport they shared, they must know each other.

She allowed herself a few minutes to adjust to seeing him fully dressed. But this time, he was no less potent than he’d been on the beach earlier. In fact, she’d say he was more so. Her devastatingly sexy stranger had closely cropped black hair, an angular face that held bushy eyebrows and facial hair that was more than a five-o’clock shadow, but not a full beard, and the dreamiest eyes she’d ever seen. He was dressed in distressed jeans that clung to a gloriously tight behind, from what Miranda recalled, and a graphic T-shirt that hugged his defined biceps. Miranda couldn’t forget how delectable his body had looked earlier and licked her lips in remembrance.

Why was she having such a reaction to this man?

He clearly didn’t have a nine-to-five job. Why else would he have been at the beach when most people were at work? And here he was again, which told her that he could be exactly the sort of man who could be compelled by the promise of a hefty cash payout.

Decision made, she slid off the bar stool with as much modesty as she could in a dress, grasped her purse dangling from the stool and moved toward her mysterious stranger. What was the worst he could do? Brush her off? He’d done that earlier and she was no worse for the wear.

“Ahem.” Miranda coughed loudly, bringing her right hand to her mouth.

He glanced up from his conversation, but didn’t make any effort to speak. Instead his dark eyes gleamed like glassy volcanic rock as he boldly raked her from the top of her hair to her now aching feet. Pumps were definitely not made for all the walking she’d done today. “Are you done with your appraisal?” Miranda inquired. Flirting could work to her benefit if it garnered his interest. Though he would soon find out she had an agenda.

“Nearly.” He continued to scan her critically for several more moments before he beamed his approval and looked her dead in the eye.

“And?”

A perplexed look crossed his features. “And what?”

“Do you like what you see?” Miranda inquired.

“Yes. Yes, I do very much.”

Miranda’s insides jangled with excitement as she slid onto the bar stool beside him. The bartender came to her immediately. “Have you decided if you’d like another?”

“Actually, I’d like something stronger.” She turned to her companion. “What would you recommend?”

He grinned a delicious, stomach-curling smile. “Max, get her a bourbon, same as me.” He swiveled around to face her. “It’s a bit strong, but I think you’ll like it.”

“I like strong,” Miranda countered. “Men, that is.”

“Is that a fact?”

She smiled coquettishly. “It is indeed. I noticed you earlier surfing.” She inclined her head toward the beach that was about a hundred yards away.

“And did you like what you saw?”

She raised a brow. He’d seen her watching him, so she answered honestly. “You know I did. It was quite entertaining watching you out there.”

“And afterward?”

An image of him in the wet suit flashed across Miranda’s mind. “The view wasn’t bad either.”

Her stranger laughed heartily and Miranda liked the sound of it. It was deep and masculine and the very air around her seemed electrified being next to him.

“Well, aren’t you a breath of fresh air. You actually say what’s on your mind.”

“Miranda.” She extended her hand. “Miranda Jensen.”

“Vic Elliott.” His grip was strong and his hands were massive, swallowing her small ones in his. “Pleasure to meet you, Miranda. And here’s your drink.” He motioned to the bar where the bartender had placed her drink along with another bourbon for him. He held up his glass and she did the same. “Cheers.”

He tapped his glass against hers and watched her take a sip. His gaze was so compelling that Miranda had to focus on sipping her drink. It was as strong as he said it would be, but she needed liquid courage. “I like it.”

“A lady after my own heart.”

“And would there be any other ladies of your heart?” she inquired. Better she know now what she was up against than waste her time with a man who wasn’t available.

He gave her a sideward glance. “There’s no one special.”

“How about some dinner?” Miranda inquired. “Since I’m new to San Diego, you choose.”

“Would love to.”

* * *

Vaughn liked Miranda Jensen. She was open and direct. He appreciated her honesty. She knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to put all her cards on the table. He liked that she’d approached him in the café. She seemed unconcerned about what he did for a living or how much money he made. Twice today, she’d seen him, first at the beach and now at the café. She probably thought he was a drifter she could have a one-night stand with while on a business trip to San Diego. And that was just fine with him. She was a fine-looking woman and he wouldn’t mind getting better acquainted with her. In or out of bed.

After they finished their bourbons, Vaughn decided to take Miranda to a local seafood spot that had the best crab claws in town. Rather than drive his Ferrari and call out the fact that he was loaded, Vaughn opted for an Uber. When he was getting to know a woman and to weed out gold diggers only interested in his money, he usually gave minimal details about himself, including the name Vic Elliott. In the Navy, his men had nicknamed him Vic and it stuck, so Vaughn used it along with an abbreviated version of his last name.

“Hope you don’t mind getting dirty?” Vaughn said as the Uber driver drove them to the restaurant. His thigh was inches from hers and he could feel himself getting further and further turned on by this woman and they hadn’t even touched yet.

“I don’t mind,” Miranda said. “In fact, the dirtier the better. Though I do wish I’d opted to change clothes.” She glanced down at her attire.

“Why?” Vaughn asked, glancing in her direction. “You look beautiful.”

“But a bit overdressed for the beach, right?” She laughed.

He smiled. “A bit—that’s what makes you so adorable.” He reached across the short distance between them and tucked a wayward strand of hair that had fallen in her face behind her ear. When she glanced up at him, her eyes were filled with desire. Vaughn wanted to sweep his mouth across hers and taste her, but the car came to a stop.

“We’re here!” she said brightly.

Yes, we are, Vaughn thought. If the car hadn’t come to a halt, it was a certainty he would have acted on the rampant desire he felt for Miranda.

* * *

He’d been about to kiss her; Miranda was absolutely sure of that fact. The way he’d looked at her with those searing dark eyes that seemed to read into her soul told her so. And she would have let him. Hadn’t her heart been hammering in her chest, just sitting beside him, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder? Even though they’d only known each other barely an hour. She would have let this handsome and sexy stranger have his way with her.

What would that have been like? Would his kiss have been soft and sweet? Or hard and hungry?

She needed to get control of herself.

She wasn’t here for romantic entanglements. She needed a husband—and quick. This man looked like he wasn’t desperate for money, but wouldn’t mind some extra cash in the bank. And it didn’t hurt that he wasn’t bad on the eyes either. Not that her marriage would be a real one. She had no intentions of consummating the marriage. They would only stay together long enough to ensure her inheritance before going their separate ways. But first, she had to ask him.

After exiting the car, Vic led her inside the seafood restaurant with his hand lightly resting on the small of her back as he propelled her forward. It was in no way untoward, but Miranda felt it all the same. He kept it there until they were seated and he’d scooted her chair underneath her before taking his own.

“You’re quite the gentleman.”

He grinned. “My mama taught me how to treat a lady.”

“Sounds like she’s a wise woman,” Miranda offered.

“She’s an amazing woman.” The way he said it told Miranda that he was close with his mother. A man who had a good relationship with his mama was always a good sign.

After the waiter filled their water glasses and took their drink orders, Vic immediately begin firing questions at her. “So where are you from, Miranda?”

“Chicago.”

“And what do you do there?”

“I work in the hotel industry,” she responded.

“And what brings you to the West Coast?”

“I have a pressing business matter that I’ve put off for far too long and now it requires my attention.”

He laughed and shrugged off her evasiveness. “That’s rather vague, but you don’t have to share. I understand the need for anonymity.”

“And what is it that you do?” Miranda inquired. If he was going to put her on the hot seat, why shouldn’t she return the favor?

“I used to be in the Navy, but now I surf.”

“Why the Navy?”

“If you couldn’t tell, I love the ocean and the sea. Quite frankly I’ve never felt at home anywhere else except on the water. It’s a part of me.”

“I’ve a laundry list of places I’d love to go to, but I imagined you’ve traveled the world extensively while in the Navy.”

“It did afford me certain luxuries, but we usually weren’t there long enough to truly take in the culture. Now Chicago, on the other hand, I’d steer clear of. I can’t imagine living in the Midwest and having to deal with all that cold and snow. How do you do it?”

Miranda shrugged. “I suppose you get used to it. Have you always lived in California?”

Vic nodded. “It’s close to the ocean, just how I like it.”

The waiter returned with their drinks and they continued happily chatting about Vic’s travels until dinner came. Miranda was a good sport when the waiter put bibs on both her and Vic so their clothes wouldn’t get soiled. A platter of succulent crab claws with mustard sauce and Lyonnaise potatoes were placed in front of them.

“You have to try this.” Vic reached for a crab claw and after dipping it in the mustard concoction, he leaned over the table and fed it to Miranda. Her eyes grew large at the romantic gesture and she toyed with the idea of not accepting, but in the end, she grasped Vic’s large hand in hers and bit into the crab, taking a large chunk into her mouth.

Vic sat back in his chair, but his eyes never lost hers as a sigh of ecstasy escaped her lips at the sweetness of the crab meat and tanginess of the mustard sauce. Desire zinged through her and Miranda knew a blush had to be tinting her cheeks.

“That’s delicious...”

“I know, right?” The tone of his vice was jovial, but the look on Vic’s face was anything but. It was a hungry look. A look that told Miranda she’d awakened the beast. She watched him place a small heap of potatoes on her plate. And thank God for it. Miranda was completely tongue-tied. She’d known she was attracted to Vic. And it scared her. If she chose this man—there was no way theirs would be a marriage of convenience.

Chapter 2

“I had a lovely evening,” Miranda said when Vic insisted on seeing her back to the hotel and walking her to her room. She knew what he was up to. He wanted to get in her pants and as much as that scenario would ease the sexual tension that had been flying between them throughout the night, it wouldn’t solve her current situation.

Vic was a viable candidate for a husband, but she couldn’t let her hormones run away with her, despite how much she wanted to. And boy, did she want this man something fierce. She’d love to have free and unfettered access to roam her hands up and down his chiseled body, to relish him taking her to new heights, because her intuition told her Vic knew how to please a woman in the bedroom. All that patience waiting for the perfect wave. There was no way he was a slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of man. He’d take his time exploring every sensual side of her nature.

They walked in silence after exiting the elevator. Neither of them too keen on talking. Even though they’d done just that for hours. They’d actually shut down the restaurant, only leaving when it closed. Miranda had thoroughly enjoyed her evening with Vic much more than she would have guessed when she slid off her bar stool at the beachside café and introduced herself.

And now they were here.

At her door.

Miranda took an extraordinary amount of time fumbling to find the hotel card, but when she did, she didn’t use it. Instead, she spun around to face Vic. He’d moved closer to her during that short time and now he was a breath away from her, a tantalizing breath.

“Vic...”

He pulled her into his arms and she was surprised when she didn’t object. Instead, she allowed him to come closer and mold his body to hers until every inch of their lower bodies were touching. Then his head lowered until his forehead was touching hers. Miranda’s breath caught in her chest.

God, how she wished she was one of those women who could bed a man and walk away the next day, but she wasn’t. Furthermore, her situation didn’t allow her to have a weak moment and have a night of passion with Vic. She had to think with a clear head and not with other body parts.

“Ask me in,” Vic whispered huskily. “You know you want to.”

He was right.

She did.

She wanted him desperately, but tomorrow morning she’d be in the same boat she’d been in yesterday. Or maybe even worse. Vic was dangerous. He was the kind of man she could fall for, lose her head over when practicality was needed here.

“I should go inside.” She pushed against his rock-hard chest and Vic released her.

“If that’s what you want.”

She didn’t dare look up at him, because he’d know it was a lie. So Miranda kept her head low and murmured, “Yes, it is.” Then she quickly used the card to let herself in the hotel room and immediately closed the door.

But not before she caught a glimpse of Vic’s stunned expression and his last words. “I’ll call you.”

* * *

Did Miranda really just close the door in his face? Vaughn stood staring at her hotel door in stunned disbelief. Was he losing his touch?

He’d felt her heat when he’d pressed her against him. Her body had reacted to his, instantly molding itself against his. She’d wanted him too, but for some damn reason she was denying herself—hell, the both of them—a night of mind-blowing sex. Because that was exactly what she would have had in store. He’d been nursing an erection on and off for half the night and that was just from a brush of his hand across her back, accidental foot play underneath the table or a look from Miranda from across the table. If he’d had all night with her, she wouldn’t have slept. He would have made sure to explore every inch of her body from head to toe.

But alas, he wasn’t getting that chance.

She’d closed the door, and if he wasn’t mistaken, locked it.

Was she locking it to keep herself from opening it or from letting him in?

Shaking his head, Vaughn headed to the elevators. He just couldn’t understand how he’d gotten his signals crossed. And what possessed him to say he’d call her? Maybe he should leave well enough alone and move on to greener pastures.

The elevator doors chimed and opened. Vaughn stepped inside.

As the doors closed, Vaughn knew he wouldn’t move on. Miranda Jensen had intrigued him and not many women did. And it wasn’t just the chase that had turned him on; he wanted to know more about her. Throughout the night, he realized they’d talked more about general topics than they had anything personal. Miranda had been cagey about revealing any personal details other than her name and job title, which made Vaughn’s antenna come on high alert. She may not be interested in his wealth, but she was certainly hiding something.

And Vaughn wanted to know what it was.

But more importantly, he wanted Miranda. And he would have her.

* * *

There was no trace of Vic Elliott. He didn’t exist.

After returning from the amazing dinner she’d shared with the man, Miranda had decided to Google him. Find out more about this mysterious stranger who had captured her attention since emerging from the sea. But she couldn’t find a single thing about him. There wasn’t a record of Vic anywhere online. She’d tried several spellings of his name, including using Victor, and still her results had been fruitless.

He’d lied to her about something as fundamental as who he was.

How could she have been so blind yet again?

Was she destined to be a loser when it came to picking the right man? It stung because Miranda was sure she’d seen something in Vic that was special, something that she’d never encountered before with the other men she’d dated. Over drinks and dinner, they’d shared true companionship, laughing and talking about a number of topics from sports to politics to religion. Though she was woefully out of her league when it came to sports. Instead, Vic hadn’t made her feel dumb or stupid and they’d even discussed catching a game.

Now she knew he’d been lying the entire time.

But had she been that open? No. But at least she’d given him her real name. If he wanted to find out more just as she was researching him, he could. If he was interested, but he couldn’t have been if he’d lied to her. He was probably married and had given her a fake name in the hopes she’d spend the night with him. And her traitorous body had wanted to. Oh how she wanted to indulge in all the desires of the flesh. His sinful flesh.

His hard, lean body had been made for a woman’s touch. Of that, Miranda was sure.

Except she wouldn’t be partaking because Vic, whatever his name, wasn’t hers. She sighed. It had been nice to wonder what if, if only for a little while.

* * *

The next morning, Vaughn was up with the birds. Images of the raven-haired beauty from the beach had dominated his dreams, causing him to toss and turn in his king-size bed. Eventually, he’d thrown back the covers and, after brushing his teeth and showering, donned an Elite wet suit and gone to the beach. He dove into the waves. Whenever he needed to clear his mind, surfing was a good cure-all. He could lose himself in the powerful forces of Mother Nature and forget whatever it was that ailed him such as a certain body part which ached to be released.

Vaughn couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an erection that had gone unsatisfied. Usually, when he was with a female, the night would come to its inevitable conclusion, him in the arms of a beautiful woman.

Not last night.

Miranda Jensen had rebuffed his advances, sending him home with a hard-on like some love-struck teenager. And it irked him. Not because she’d turned him down, which, although rare, could happen. He was rankled because he knew Miranda wanted him equally as much as he wanted her, but instead she’d made them both miserable by pushing him away. The question was why?

There had to be more to the story and he would find out.

Several hours later after returning home to shower, Vaughn drove to his office. Elite’s headquarters were located a few blocks away from La Jolla Shore’s beach. Most of his staff wore shorts, T-shirts and sneakers because Vaughn wanted a laid-back vibe at the office and found it made for productive workers. They appreciated not only the dress code, but the free healthy snacks catered by a local food truck, the coffee bar as well as a game and nap room onsite. He treated his employees well and consequently had their loyalty.

He greeted his assistant, Kindra, as he stopped by her desk. Kindra was one of the sweetest girls he’d ever met. She had a wholesome, all-American quality to her five-foot-five, blonde appearance. She was athletically built, wore no makeup and rarely had he seen her in anything other than a skirt, but she was the best help he’d ever found.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Kindra said. “I’d have thought with today’s forecast you’d be catching some waves.”

Vaughn grinned. She knew him so well. “I already did.”

“So you thought you’d come in and do a little work?”

“If that’s okay with you?” He gave her a wink.

She shrugged. “You’re the boss.” Kindra followed him inside his office and caught him up to date on what he’d missed that morning. Once he was up to speed, Vaughn dismissed her so he could open his laptop and satisfy his curiosity.

He typed Miranda Jensen into his browser and searched.

He was shocked by what came up.

Miranda was no gold digger on the hunt for her latest meal. She was a wealthy heiress from a prominent Chicago family. He went on to read how her grandfather had made a killing in the finance world and as his sole granddaughter, she was due to inherit millions.

Vaughn leaned back in his chair and rubbed his beard. So he hadn’t been the only one not being completely truthful. Although she’d shared that she was from the Windy City, Miranda hadn’t mentioned she was an heiress. Was she just as cognizant as he of men’s less than altruistic motives when it came to dating her?

Who knew they had so much in common?

It certainly eased Vaughn’s fears about revealing his true identity to her, when she was clearly rich several times over. It made what he was about to do very easy.

* * *

“I’m so excited you’re in town,” Sasha Charles told Miranda when they met for lunch at noon. Miranda was excited to finally spend time with her dear friend. Since college, they’d only seen each other on the odd girls’ weekend, but to have quality time to seriously catch up was worth the trip to San Diego alone.

“Me too,” Miranda responded. “It seems like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Sasha laughed. “It has been a while. The last time I saw you was when we went to that ski chalet in Colorado with our significant others.”

Miranda rolled her eyes. She remembered that trip and how she’d been besotted with Anthony, all the while he’d been looking at other women in skintight ski outfits. What a fool she’d been. And she was determined not to make the mistakes of the past. She’d narrowly avoided disaster with Vic, but luckily she’d led with her head instead of her libido. Otherwise, all she would have had to show for her efforts was a good lay. Now, she could continue her search for a husband.

“Miranda?”

“Hmm...” She glanced up from her reverie to see Sasha watching her suspiciously. Her large brown eyes drew Miranda in as they always did. Her best friend looked put together in a conservative pencil skirt and white button-down top. Sasha was a head taller than Miranda at five foot seven, with a shapely figure and the cutest pixie-like haircut she’d ever seen. Miranda had never done more than trim a few inches from her shoulder-length hair.

“What’s going on?” When Miranda began to protest, Sasha held up her hand. “And before you give me some song and dance, remember that I know you. You can’t keep secrets from me.”

Miranda inwardly cringed. She was keeping one now. She hadn’t revealed to Sasha the terms of her grandfather’s will. She hadn’t told anyone. It was embarrassing to find herself in the situation to begin with, let alone having people feel sorry for her that she couldn’t find a man. She didn’t want pity, not even from her best friend.

“I’m just trying to figure out my next move concerning my career,” Miranda offered, which was a half-truth. “You know I haven’t been happy for a while now. And I was hoping some time away would give me clarity on what to do next.”

“You know what to do,” Sasha replied. “Open your own B and B. You’ve been talking about it for as long as I can remember.”

“It’s not that simple. I need capital.”

“Can’t your parents loan you the money? Or what about a bank loan? I hate to see you giving up on your dreams.” Sasha was a much sought-after marketing consultant.

Miranda frowned. “I’m not giving up. Just deciding on the best course of action.” And once she had her hands on her inheritance, she would go after her dreams, full stop. She just needed a husband to get there. “Anyway, I was hoping maybe we could hit the town, maybe go to a happy hour and mingle.”

“Really?” Sasha’s brow rose a fraction. “Are you looking for a little vacation loving?”

Miranda laughed aloud. She could have easily have had that and then some last night. Vic had been one delicious male specimen who would have put a hurting on Miranda if she’d allowed him, but she hadn’t. “I wouldn’t mind a little company of the male persuasion.”

“Well, then, let me look around,” Sasha said, taking a forkful of her salad. “I’ll text you and we’ll make a night of it. Sound good?”

“Sure.” But Miranda’s brain drifted to Vic and the sensual smile he’d given her when he’d walked her to her hotel door. The way Vic had taken her in his arms and leaned into Miranda had her thinking about his hard length. Why was she even thinking about a man who’d lied to her? She needed to be sweeping him under the rug. So why did her heart burst with joy when his name came across her phone display several seconds later?

Last night, he’d taken her phone and input his number to be sure she wouldn’t lose it and had insisted she do the same. He’d even rung the phone to ensure she hadn’t given him a fake number. And now he was calling her.

She stared at the phone.

“Are you going to answer that?” Sasha inquired, inclining her head to the phone Miranda held in her palm.

She should ignore it, but another part of her wanted to answer and give Vic a piece of her mind. Swiping her thumb across her iPhone, she answered. “Hello.”

“Hello, Miranda.” Why did his voice have to sound like hot fudge poured over a sundae?

“Vic? Oh wait, I don’t believe that’s your real name, is it?” The words came tumbling out of Miranda’s lips before she could stop them. Sasha stared back at her in confusion. Rising to her feet, she stepped away from the table for some privacy.

At the silence on the other end, she continued. “Cat got your tongue?”

A sigh sounded on the other end. “So you found out?”

“Uh, yes, I did. In this day and age, did you really expect I wouldn’t discover the truth?”

“Honestly, I wasn’t thinking that far in advance,” he responded. “Another body part had taken over my brain.”

Miranda colored at his meaning. “What are you hiding, Vic?”

“My bank account,” he replied. “Same as you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Miranda Jensen, trust fund baby of the Chicago Jensens, a prominent family in the finance world. Or at least that’s what it said online.”

So he’d researched her too? “Did you know who I was when you met me in the café?”

“No, just the opposite,” Vaughn responded. “I knew nothing about you except that I’d met a beautiful woman that intrigued me, but I meet gorgeous women all the time. When you weren’t forthcoming with information about yourself, it made me cagey, so I decided to look into your background.”

“Why?”

“Because...similar to you, I’ve amassed a certain wealth and find myself watchful for gold diggers. I apologize that I wasn’t honest with you, Miranda. I admit I’m a bit jaded by my past experiences. In any event, it’s no excuse. And for the record, my real name is Vaughn Ellicott.”

An apology? She hadn’t expected that. And she now knew his given name. Vaughn. She kind of liked the sound of it.

“Wait a minute. Did you say you’re wealthy?” He certainly wouldn’t need a share of her inheritance if he had wealth of his own.

He snorted. “Don’t sound so shocked. Just because I look like a surfer dude doesn’t mean I don’t work.”

“Ouch.” She touched her chest as she felt the sting of his words. “Of course you do. I guess I just thought you might be one of those guys with a contract or endorsements or something to surf full-time.”

“You thought I was that good?” Surprise was evident in his voice.

Sasha motioned Miranda back over to the table but she shook her head and said. “I watched you for an hour. You know you’re that good.”

“I’m glad you think so. But I didn’t call you for praise.”

“Oh no? Why did you call?”

“So we could start again,” Vaughn replied quickly. “I’d like a clean slate with you, Miranda. So you can get to know the real me. I called to ask you for a second date.”

Miranda’s heart lurched in excitement. She had enjoyed spending time in Vic’s—no, Vaughn’s—company, but he hadn’t been forthright with her. Why should she go down that rabbit hole again? It wouldn’t be prudent. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to see each other again.”

“So who is lying now?”

“Excuse me?”

“We had a good time. And you and I both know that the night might have ended differently if you hadn’t got cold feet.”

“I didn’t get cold feet. I just don’t sleep around with men I barely know which clearly I didn’t since you couldn’t be bothered to give me your real name.”

“Duly noted.” He ignored her dig. “Now about that dinner? My treat, someplace nice and I promise I’ll even dress up and everything.” Miranda remembered the distressed jeans and T-shirt he’d worn that hugged his tight bottom and bulging biceps. He’d looked darn good to her. Was she ready to see this new wealthy Vaughn Ellicott and see him all spruced up?

Yes, she was. Even though she knew it was fruitless effort, she could enjoy one last evening with him before she began her husband-seeking mission again because he certainly wouldn’t need a share of her inheritance.

“I take your silence as acquiescence, so I’ll pick you up at your hotel at seven p.m. sharp. And Miranda?”

“Yes?”

“Wear something sexy.” Seconds later, the line went dead and Miranda stared down at it in disbelief. Her circumstances had changed in mere seconds from being alone to a date with a fine man she was extremely attracted to.

Miranda walked back to the table and Sasha was staring at her wide-eyed. “Well?” Her brow raised a fraction. “Are you going to tell me what that was all about?”

Mirada shrugged. She didn’t understand it herself. She should be running in the opposite direction from a charmer like Vaughn who’d brushed aside his dishonesty under the rug and got her to accept his dinner invite.

“Don’t you dare? Spill.”

Ten minutes later, Sasha was glancing at her in bewilderment as if she’d suddenly sprouted horns. “What?”

“You’re going to give this guy another chance after he lied to you about something as simple as his name?”

“Why not?” Miranda shrugged. It wasn’t as if she had men lined up at her door. Plus she was about to tie herself down in marriage for the next year. Why not enjoy what could be the final night of her freedom? “He explained why he was less than honest when we met. He’s encountered a lot of gold diggers, just like I have. If anyone can understand I can. Plus, he’s attractive as hell.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sasha replied. “Vaughn Ellicott is considered quite the commodity in San Diego, but no woman has ever captured his heart. The man is a notorious playboy. About the only thing he can commit to is the ocean and his fascination with surfing.”

“Who’s to say I need him to commit?” Though that’s exactly what she needed. “Perhaps I just want someone to spend some time with? It’s not easy being alone.”

“Of course not, sweetie. I just want someone worthy of you.”

Miranda sighed heavily. She might have found one, a man who didn’t care about how many zeros she had in her bank account because he had plenty to go around on his own. Which meant she was no closer to finding her husband than she’d been twenty-four hours ago.

Chapter 3

The evening came quick and Vaughn was happy it did. Once he’d discovered that he had no reason to fear that Miranda was after his money, he felt relieved. After they’d talked, Vaughn spent the remainder of the afternoon at the beach riding the waves like he’d stolen something. Then he’d returned to his home in La Jolla for a hot shower. Donning his favorite navy suit, Italian loafers and a splash of cologne, he was ready for the night.

Opening his five-car garage, Vaughn stared at the various vehicles. He wasn’t in the mood for the Ferrari tonight. He certainly didn’t need the Humvee. Or the Bugatti. No, tonight, he intended to woo and he knew just the vehicle. He reached inside the custom-made cabinet that housed all the keys to his babies and started toward his Rolls-Royce Phantom. Vaughn walked over, hopped in and, when the engine purred to life, he zipped out of the garage.

Was he trying to impress Miranda? Maybe just a little. Usually he was a take-it-or-leave-it kind of guy, but for some odd reason, he wanted Miranda’s approval. Wanted her to see him with new eyes and as a viable catch she wouldn’t mind having on her arm or in her bed.

He arrived promptly at 7:00 p.m. He pulled up to the hotel’s entrance and found Miranda outside waiting for him. What had she thought was going to happen if he knocked on her door? Or maybe she didn’t trust herself if they were alone in a room together? The anticipation of what if caused Vaughn to exit his Rolls-Royce with a bit more pep in his step than usual as he approached her.

He glanced at his Piaget watch. “Punctual. I like it.”

Miranda shrugged. “It’s a habit.”

“One I like.” He opened the passenger door for her to get in, but she turned to him.

“A Rolls?” She grinned as she slid in. “Nice touch.”

Vaughn grinned like a Cheshire cat as he closed the door and strode to the driver’s side. He glanced over at Miranda and took a moment to enjoy the expanse of leg on display thanks to the side slit. The woman had legs that went on for miles. Maybe one day those very legs would be wrapped around him as he brought them to sweet completion. Just then, Miranda glanced up and caught his appreciative gaze, but turned away.

Vaughn wasn’t sure she was ready for him yet, but at least for tonight, she was his.

* * *

Miranda swallowed the frog in her throat as San Diego whirled by. She had no idea where Vaughn was taking her and she wasn’t worried. She suspected it was going to be someplace chic because he’d told her to dress up. Or rather told her to wear something “sexy.” She’d opted for an off-the-shoulder formfitting red dress with ruffled sleeves and a hem that hit above her knee. Miranda didn’t want to give him any ideas that she was catering to his male fantasies. She’d worn the dress for her because it showed off her shoulders and figure, but left enough to the imagination.

Or had she?

Wasn’t just a tiny part of her excited at the hungry gazes Vaughn bestowed upon her moments ago? He had been unable to hide his appreciation of her outfit. And Miranda had to admit that she’d gone the extra mile to ensure she looked spectacular tonight. She’d had her hair styled at the salon downstairs so that it now hung in soft curls down her back. The makeup artist had subtly accentuated her eyes, the curve of her lips and her high cheekbones. Overall, she was pleased with the result which made it appear as if she’d gone to little or no effort for the evening when it was quite the opposite.

With his eyes on the road, Miranda allowed herself a moment to hazard a glance at Vaughn’s sinfully masculine face. Tonight, he looked much different than the casual Vic from last night. He looked more like an authority than the easygoing surfer with a zest for life. His suit was dark and tailored to fit like armor and accentuated every inch of his fit and trim six-foot physique. She was sure it had to have been custom made for him. He was every bit the assured businessman she’d researched online this afternoon, who’d come from a proud military family.

After lunch with Sasha ended, Miranda had pulled out her iPad and put Vaughn Ellicott into the search engine. She’d been shocked by the results. A former Navy man turned businessman. His surf gear business, Elite, had started out as a one-man operation, but having garnered contracts with several surfing associations to solely provide their gear, it had quickly morphed into a million-dollar company almost overnight. Vaughn Ellicott had a substantial fortune behind him.

Her practical side told Miranda to forget about Vaughn and focus on finding a man who could be bought, but her feminine side wasn’t ready to let the sexy surfer go. And so, she’d agreed to a second date as a final hoorah. When it was over, she would return to her husband hunting search. For tonight, however, she would indulge her fantasy of what it would be like if she was free from restrictions and could have this man.

“We’re here,” Vaughn said, when he smoothly pulled up along the curb.

A valet opened Miranda’s car door and she exited. Vaughn came around and met her, sliding his arm around her waist as he led her inside the building. Miranda had to admit that she liked how he took charge. He led her to the elevator which took them to the twelfth floor.

“Reservation for Ellicott,” Vaughn told the maître d’ when they entered the restaurant housed there.

“Right this way, Mr. Ellicott.” The portly man walked them through the elegantly appointed restaurant with views of San Diego and the bay at their feet.

“This place is amazing,” Miranda commented once they were seated with a view of the San Diego skyline. She’d never heard of Mr. A’s, but knew she’d be talking about it to Sasha later. Who would have anticipated such a jewel on the top floor of an office building?

“Only the best for you,” Vaughn replied smoothly.

“Great line.”

The waitress came over and Vaughn selected an expensive bottle of red wine from their black label wine list. Miranda knew it cost a mint because it was one of her father’s favorites.

When she departed, Vaughn was wearing a frown. “I didn’t give you a line earlier. I wanted to take you to someplace special after last night’s chill atmosphere. Show you there’s more to me than just what I portray outwardly.”

“So you were acting last night?” She’d thought he’d been real with her, but if he wasn’t she could hightail it out the door now. She’d been there and done that.

“Not at all, but if I’m honest—” He paused. “I had my guard up. Sometimes I don’t know the type of woman I’m meeting and whether they want to spend time with me for me or because I’m a millionaire mogul.”

Miranda released a sigh of relief. Maybe her radar wasn’t completely as off as she thought. She’d read that he was part of an organization called Prescott George, but had been dubbed by the media as the Millionaire Moguls. “Tell me about Prescott George.”

“How much did you read up on me this afternoon?” His sharp eyes bore into hers from across the table.

Miranda shrugged. “Enough, so don’t skirt around the issue. I’d like to know more.”

“I’ve been part of the organization for five years. My father, Vaughn Ellicott, Sr., has been a member for decades, but it was only when I left the Navy and started my own business and began giving back to the community that I got an invitation to join.”

“So not anyone can join?”

“We’re selective. Keeps the riffraff out.”

Miranda chuckled.

“Prescott George is all about giving back to those less fortunate and lending a helping hand to the African-American community.”

“I’m impressed,” Miranda said. And she didn’t say that often. They may have started out rocky with Vaughn not being honest with her, but he did seem to have integrity and she respected him and the work Prescott George did. If she was fortunate enough to get her hands on her inheritance, it wouldn’t all go to starting her bed-and-breakfast. She too would give back.

“And you, Miranda?” Vaughn said. “Tell me more about what makes you tick. I suspect that I barely scratched the surface last night.”

“I’m really quite easy. I went to school back east at Brown University. Received my MBA. However, rather than working at Jensen Finance I chose to work in the hotel business. Since graduating, I’ve been working my way up the ladder. Not at the pace I’d like, but I’ll get there.”

“Hmmm...that’s all info I can probably find out online,” he responded. “I want to know about you. Why are you still single? And more importantly, why are you in San Diego when all your family and fortune is in Chicago? What gives? I feel like there’s more to the story than you’re telling me.”

Miranda didn’t like being put on the hot seat and a torrent of emotions surged up inside her. She didn’t particularly want to discuss her personal life. Or the bad choices she’d made in the past. If she did, she might dig herself into a ditch and reveal too much about her plan and the real reason she was in San Diego. So she opted for a version of the truth. “I’m single because I have a penchant for picking the wrong man,” she finally answered.

“Ah, you’ve intrigued me. Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they choose me too. They see a wealthy heiress and easy target.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Vaughn replied. “Because that’s not what I see.”

“What do you see?”

He leaned forward and his long-lashed dark eyes stared into hers. It was impossible not to be completely mesmerized by his smoldering good looks. “I see a beautiful, vivacious and sexy woman that I want to spend time with and who I think finds me equally attractive.”

* * *

Or at least he hoped so. Vaughn was surprised by how much he enjoyed Miranda’s company. He thought about the beautiful model he’d dated a couple of months ago. And before her, he’d been with a dancer, yet none of those women held his attention for more than a few weeks at a time. Miranda on the other hand wasn’t looking at how many zeros were in his bank account because she had plenty of her own. And for once, Vaughn could be at ease and let his guard down. “You do find me attractive, don’t you?”

“Fishing for compliments?” Miranda inquired, sipping on her wine. “I would think a man as active as you wouldn’t need them.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not blind,” she responded. “I saw the articles about your dating conquests. You have quite the active social life and the reputation to go along with it.”

The waitress returned and took their dinner orders so Vaughn didn’t comment until after she’d left. “I do, but none of them have intrigued me as much as you do.”

“Do you always speak so frankly?”

He smiled. “Yes, I do. And I want to know more about you. What about your family?”

“My parents, Tucker and Leigh, live in Chicago. My father is the CEO of the Jensen Financial Group and my mother is content to stay at home and be a socialite.” Her voice raised a fraction. “We’re pretty boring and nothing much to tell.”

“I doubt that. Brothers or sisters?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Just me. I’m an only child.”

A grin spread across his sinful lips. “Were you spoiled rotten?”

“Surprisingly, no, my parents never deigned to give me my heart’s desire. Instead, they taught me about hard work and dedication to achieve one’s goals.”

“Sounds like my family,” Vaughn concurred. “My father, the Commander, didn’t believe in handing anything to us. We had to work for it. And in my case join the Navy as he did and his father before him.”

“And your sisters? What do they do?”

“My sisters Emily and Brianne are both married with children and live here in San Diego. Until recently, my baby sister, Eliza, owned a fashion boutique in New York, but she’s since opened a boutique here in her hometown. I’m very proud of her.”

“You’re close to your family?”

“Yes, I am. I find they keep me grounded and never let all the wealth and prestige get to my head.”

They continued leisurely talking over a three-course meal of Maine lobster strudel with Cognac lobster sauce; duck confit with huckleberry sauce and orange reduction followed by a decadent dessert of salted caramel and chocolate bar with a peanut praline crisp which they shared. Vaughn was enjoying the night so much he didn’t want it to end. He suggested coffee on the outdoor terrace and that was where they stayed until late when he drove Miranda to her hotel.

Vaughn was reluctant for the evening to end. Miranda was a gorgeous woman and throughout the evening his gaze would fix on her silky brown skin that he’d love to touch, or drift to her lush pink-tinted lips. She’d dressed for him tonight, of that he was sure. The dress with its ruffled sleeves accentuated her shapely figure without showing too much. It stopped at her knee, revealing a tantalizing amount of leg, and the neckline gave a tempting view of her full cleavage.

He was desperate to take her upstairs to her room, yet was afraid of coming on too strong, but damn if he couldn’t picture the two of them making passionate sweet love all night long. Miranda wanted it too. She hadn’t shied away when his hand had covered hers on the restaurant terrace. In fact, he’d felt her breath hitch at his touch. Or complained when he’d come behind her and slid his arms on either side of her as he’d pointed out several points of interest. In fact, he could have sworn she’d sniffed him, inhaling his scent much as he’d done hers. Miranda’s sweet yet subtle perfume had oozed over his senses, filling his nostrils and seducing his mind into wanting to do all kinds of things to her body.

Miranda was taking him to new dimensions, but she was reluctant to speed up their relationship to the next level. Vaughn was accustomed to women who were a lot more confident and went after what they wanted. Women who gave him hungry stares so he knew what was offered. But Miranda seemed innocent, fragile even. He would have to handle her with care.

When the Rolls-Royce came to a stop in front of the hotel, Vaughn flew out the car, eager to open Miranda’s door since the valet was preoccupied with another customer. He lent her his hand and she slid out from the vehicle.

“Thank you.”

The valet came toward him. “What room?” he inquired, peering at Vaughn.

Vaughn was silent. He would take his cue from Miranda. If she gave him her room number, it meant he’d be staying the night and finally capitalizing on the lust that had been coursing through him since he’d laid eyes on her at the beach.

She glanced up, her eyes scanning his dark ones. He wanted her, but it had to be her choice. “Room eleven zero eight.”

The valet nodded and Vaughn watched as he hopped inside the vehicle and pulled away from the curb. Grasping Miranda’s hand, they walked through the lobby to the elevator bank. Once inside, awareness exploded between them and Vaughn nearly stopped breathing. Miranda was standing opposite him and he was mesmerized by the shape of her face and her delicately carved lips. So much so that it didn’t escape his attention when her tongue nervously darted out to moisten her lips. His whole body tightened in male response because he wanted to take her tongue in his mouth and suck on it voraciously. And he would, once he was inside her room.

When her eyes fastened on his, he noticed her pupils were dilated as if she too were acknowledging the palpable tension in the air. If he wasn’t mistaken, he saw her tremble just as the door chime indicated they’d reached her floor. They walked hand-in-hand to her hotel room and once they reached her door, Miranda pulled out her card and handed it to him.

He accepted it and used it to open the door. Miranda walked inside and he followed, for the first time unsure if this was the right thing. As much as his libido was raging, Vaughn wanted Miranda to be comfortable taking their relationship further. But instead of pulling away, she surprised him when she walked forward and pushed him backward, shutting the door. Her arms curved around his neck and he could see a tiny pulse beating in her throat as his entire body came alive at having her delicious body against his.

Then all Vaughn could feel was fire as Miranda bent her head and touched her lips to his. Her mouth was warm and sweet and his senses exploded, making him take control of the kiss. He claimed her lips, filling himself with her as he’d wanted to do the last two days, but had been unable to. Blood pounded in his veins as pure unadulterated lust slithered through him. Vaughn couldn’t recall a time when the passion he’d felt for a woman had been this raging hot, threatening to scorch him.

From a distance, he heard her whimper of desire and then her fingers curled around his neck.

* * *

Miranda forgot everything and anything in the moment but Vaughn. She didn’t know what had possessed her to give the valet her room number, but in that single action she’d made it clear to Vaughn that he was welcome to stay for the evening. Even more unusual was her handing him her hotel room card and kissing him first.

But she was glad she had.

Otherwise she would never know what it was like to be properly kissed. Vaughn’s arm curved around her waist, drawing her closer to him and his arousal. It sent shivers of delight through Miranda that she could turn a man like Vaughn on. Her last two relationships had shaken her confidence in her ability to keep the opposite sex interested. Having Anthony cheat on her and Chris only date for her money had left her feeling vulnerable, but the heated caress of Vaughn’s gaze all evening had obliterated any doubt of how he felt.

She fell deep into the kiss. Enjoyed the erotic slide of his tongue in and out of her mouth. His kiss was hot and hungry as his tongue slid more firmly inside her to explore every inch of her mouth with skilled mastery. When he pulled away to nip her ear with his teeth or glide his deliciously wet tongue against her throat or suck her neck with ravaging pulls, wondrous feelings erupted inside. Her breasts began to ache for his touch especially when he pressed her lower back toward him. She could feel the hard ridge of his erection pushing against her pelvis and it caused molten heat to pool between her thighs.

No words were uttered between them. Instead his fingers combed through her hair, from root to tip, and his hands splayed across her backside, hips and thighs. She gasped when he ground the steel of his manhood against her melting core and began rubbing against her. He was imprinting himself on every inch of her body. And Miranda was powerless to his onslaught. Instead she rode the wave, her breasts swelling in response and her nipples turning into pebbles underneath the sheer fabric of the chiffon dress. He had to know how horny he was making her, but he wasn’t pushing her backward on the bed. Instead, he rolled her nipples between his fingers until they turned to buds and then he pushed the fabric of her dress down so he could close his lips around one nipple through her strapless bra. He suckled her so strongly that a moan of pleasure escaped her lips as he lashed the turgid point with hot strokes of his tongue.

Miranda writhed in his hold and whimpered when his mouth left her breast to return and plunder her mouth. His tongue invaded hers and she dueled with him for supremacy. It was like she was having an out-of-body experience and she was no longer herself. Who was this wanton creature taking what Vaughn was so boldly giving her? He was sliding her down his body with leisurely movements, forcing her to ride his erection through their clothing. Moans escaped her lips followed by sharp intakes of breath. The center of her was throbbing and only Vaughn could assuage it.

This was no slow seduction because no doubt about it, Vaughn had been seducing her all night. First with the compliments, the fancy dinner, watching the moonlight on the terrace. It had all been to seduce her senses and he’d succeeded. She was a frenzy of need. She wanted him...to do anything and everything to her. But if she allowed that to happen, if she made love with this man, no matter how satisfying it would be—tomorrow she would still be in the exact same place without a husband. And Vaughn would walk away with a smug smile in the morning, leaving her alone just as every other man before him had done.

Miranda began pushing her hands against his chest, letting him know that they had to end this. It took several seconds, but slowly Vaughn eased his hold and lowered her back to the ground.

Dear heaven, what had she done?

Embarrassed at just how far she’d allowed things to go between them, Miranda quickly lifted her dress, backed up, spun away from him and walked toward the window.

“Miranda, are you alright?” Vaughn inquired from behind her. His voice was husky with desire.

She nodded. This was her fault. She’d made a mistake when she’d allowed him to come back to her room. Once again, she was falling for the wrong man. In an alternate universe in which she wasn’t looking down the barrel of a gun to get inheritance, Vaughn could have been the right man, but he wasn’t. There was no incentive for a man as rich as Vaughn to marry her. She had to find someone else desperate and willing to marry her for a year, but who?

Because as much as she might like to have finished what they started, Vaughn was never going to be that man.

* * *

Vaughn stared at Miranda’s rigid back as she faced the window. His body hummed with unfulfilled tension, his manhood ached and throbbed with a need to mate with this woman. He took a deep breath, struggling for control. What the hell was happening to him? He’d always considered himself a disciplined man who allowed himself the odd indulgence, but Miranda was so provocatively tempting, she was forcing him to basic near primitive instincts.

It was clear that the evening was over. He just had to extricate himself with as much diplomacy and tact as possible while still allowing Miranda to save face. He knew she had to feel horrible enough without his anger as a factor. And he was angry because she was fighting their attraction. But yet he could see she was conflicted. Her mind was telling her to walk away, but her body—her body wanted him something fierce. The way she’d ridden his shaft had him in desperate need of a cold shower. Pronto.

But she also seemed to warring with herself about what was right and wrong. He would do the right thing. “I should go.”

Slowly, she pivoted on her heel to face him. The strained look on her face told him she was thankful. “I think that might best. I should never have allowed you to come up. Should never have gotten involved.”

“How can you say that, Miranda? When you and I so clearly complement each other.”

She took a step backward and he could sense her pulling further away from him. “I’m sorry for giving you mixed signals and for giving you the wrong idea that I—I wanted...” She didn’t say another word; instead she rushed off to the bathroom and slammed the door, effectively shutting him out.

He walked to the door and placed his ear against it, but all he could hear was sniffles. “Miranda. Miranda?” When she continued to remain silent, Vaughn released a long sigh. “Okay, I’ll go, but I just want you to know that the time we’ve spent together the last couple of evenings has been nothing short of spectacular and I hope to see you again.”

He placed his hand on the door. And after willing it to open for several more seconds, he finally gave up, opened the hotel room door and left.

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