The Seduction (Billionaire's Beach Book 5)
Page 1
Table of Contents
THE SEDUCTION
Also Available
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
Excerpt – LIGHT MY FIRE
Christie Ridgway’s Book List
About the Author
THE SEDUCTION
Billionaire’s Beach Book 5
Christie Ridgway
Also Available
Take Me Tender (Billionaire’s Beach Book 1)
Take Me Forever (Billionaire’s Beach Book 2)
Take Me Home (Billionaire’s Beach Book 3)
The Scandal (Billionaire’s Beach Book 4)
The Seduction (Billionaire’s Beach Book 5)
The Secret (Billionaire’s Beach Book 6), Coming Soon!
One Look (One & Only Book 1)
One Kiss (One & Only Book 2)
One Night (One & Only Book 3), Coming Soon!
One Love (One & Only Book 4), Coming Soon!
Light My Fire (Rock Royalty Book 1)
Love Her Madly (Rock Royalty Book 2)
Break on Through (Rock Royalty Book 3)
Touch Me (Rock Royalty Book 4)
Wishful Sinful (Rock Royalty Book 5)
Wild Child (Rock Royalty Book 6)
Who Do You Love (Rock Royalty Book 7)
Love Me Two Times (Rock Royalty Book 8)
Make Him Wild (Intoxicating Book 1)
Make Him Want (Intoxicating Book 2)
Make Him Stay (Intoxicating Book 3)
THE SEDUCTION
(Billionaire’s Beach Book 5)
After graduating from the prestigious Continental Butler Academy, Emmaline Rossi needs a job in which she can use her new skills. But it’s taken longer than she expected to find one, and she’s down to her last dollars when an offer arrives. A handsome, wealthy tech exec wants someone to fill a position that sounds suspiciously like a wife. Emmaline has that empty wallet, however…and also finds herself wildly curious about the mysterious Mr. Curry.
Lucas Curry doesn’t have time for complications, with his company involved in a merger and the little sister he’s responsible for about to be married. A butler to handle all the pesky life details sounds like a great idea…until he sees the beautiful Emmaline. Until he begins to realize he can’t resist her.
Until he wonders why she’s so determined to run from the ecstasy she finds in his arms.
THE SEDUCTION
© Copyright 2017 Christie Ridgway
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
ISBN: 9781939286291
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Chapter 1
Emmaline Rossi strolled into the huge master bedroom closet of the Malibu, California estate where she worked and thanked whatever hand of Fate that had landed her the job.
Reaching up, she hung onto a nearby hook the plastic-shrouded suits delivered by the dry cleaners. Then she adjusted the long, gray linen apron she wore over her uniform. The black morning coat remained in her own quarters, but she had on the white shirt, black tie, gray vest, and gray-striped trousers. Perhaps some would consider the pieces too formal for every day—her two best friends, employed similarly in nearby homes dressed in a more laidback style—but Emmaline enjoyed wearing the outward sign that she was a graduate of the first all-female class of the prestigious Continental Butler Academy.
It also leant her an air of much-needed dignity. At twenty-six, and gifted with unarguably attractive genes from her Italian-American father and her French-American mother, more than one potential employer—read wife—had taken a single look at her and said she wouldn’t do as their household manager.
Emmaline hadn’t blamed them any more than she took vain satisfaction in the way her face and body had been put together by the fortunate combination of her parents’ DNA. Maybe she’d have begun to resent both if this employment opportunity hadn’t presented itself. But before she’d gone flat broke, Mr. Curry had come into her life.
Mr. Curry.
To prevent her mind from wandering in his direction, she turned her attention to stripping the plastic from his suits and placing them in their proper position on the closet pole—the gray finding its way beside the others of that shade, the blue suit nestled next to a second with a faint tan pinstripe, the dark olive just to the left of one that was the color of deep, bittersweet chocolate.
Then she stood back and surveyed the sectioned space as a whole, breathing in the faint scent of starch from the dress shirts, the richness of the fine wool of the suits, the tang of fresh polish on the gleaming leather shoes, the pairs arranged in precise order on slanted shelves. One of her fingertips traced the length of a silk tie draped on a custom rack, and warm pleasure as well as a distinct sense of well-being swelled inside her.
Maybe because the silent space and luxurious clothes reminded her of her early years before her mother’s death, when she’d often played in Colette’s closet with her own dolls and stuffed animals. Emmaline had created entire worlds behind silk skirts and blouses that smelled of a delicate French perfume.
She’d felt safe there, away from booming voices and the dark tension that sometimes filled their house in Palm Springs.
The thought of that place shadowed her current contentment. Was Malibu too close to those old stomping grounds? Her instincts tried telling her so. But after five years on the run, she’d just had to come back to the United States, and Malibu was where the friends she’d made at the Academy—the two women who were her only family now—had settled.
Glancing down at her own clothes, she ran her hand over the nubby fabric of her apron and reminded herself she was more than one hundred twenty-five miles from the city where she’d grown up and the dangerous men who lived there. And it had been five years. Not to mention the pretty effective disguise that was her butler’s uniform.
Because, when dressed in it, even Mr. Curry hadn’t recognized her from the first occasion they’d met—at the airport’s missing luggage desk—the night she’d arrived in LA.
She leaned against the large walnut dresser in the middle of the closet space and allowed her eyes to drift closed as she recalled that night. Jet lag had lain heavy on her shoulders like a cape, its metaphorical hem dragging along the dirty linoleum of the baggage claim floor as she’d shuffled to the end of the line where dozens of other passengers queued up to make their complaints. Each of her lashes had been an individual weight, dragging down her lids. She’d swayed on her feet, but hadn’t been able to drum up the energy to strengthen her noodly knees.
And then a man had touched her arm. “Miss?”
Startled, her muscles had jerked, and she’d glanced around.
Tired blue eyes had met her brown ones. With a lift of a stubbled jaw, the handsome but weary-looking man behind her had indicated the line was moving on without her.
Embarrassed, she’d scurrie
d forward.
But even with her back turned to him she’d suddenly been hyper-aware of his tall, rangy body and the heat radiating off his skin. A new, electric energy had infused her.
When a disgruntled passenger ahead of them had grown irate, arms flailing, voice rising, Emmaline had shrunk into herself to avoid the commotion. Her stranger had wrapped his fingers around her upper arms and drawn her back against his bigger, hotter—God, so hot, so solid—form.
“I’ve got you,” he’d said into her ear, his breath hot, too, his lips brushing against the outer curve. “Nothing to worry about.”
Maybe it was because she’d been worrying so damn much for the previous five years that those four words in that masculine rumble had touched her straight to the core.
Everything inside her had melted.
“What’s the word?” his voice continued. “Did you hear from Marshall?”
Emmaline frowned. Wait. What? That wasn’t the way the memory went. That night he’d—
Her eyes popped open. Through the closet’s half-open door, she could see Mr. Curry striding across his bedroom’s antique rug, his coat and tie already discarded, his free hand working at the buttons on his shirt.
He wasn’t supposed to be home until tomorrow.
It pleased Emmaline—for him, because she’d heard him say he was heartily sick of business trips—that he was back early, but now she felt like a fool, skulking in his closet.
A voyeuristic fool, because she found she couldn’t move her gaze from him as he dropped his shirt to the floor and sank onto the bed to toe off his shoes.
The discussion with the unseen person on the other end of the call was decidedly business. She couldn’t just waltz out of the closet and disrupt the conversation, could she? But now he was moving his hand to his belt. She heard the buckle’s metallic clink, and then the slither of leather being pulled from loops sent a shiver down her spine.
When he plucked at the button at his waist, she jerked up her gaze.
That wasn’t better. Because now she was staring at his hard, sculpted chest. Muscled shoulders and biceps. All the masculine territory she’d been studiously avoiding since taking up residence as his live-in butler. Amazing how one could communicate with the boss by talking to a space three inches to the right of his ear.
That first call ended and he instantly made another. “Hey, Stella.”
His sister. The reason, Emmaline figured, that he’d decided to hire her. His younger sibling was getting married in a few short weeks, and with their parents gone he was the one hosting all the pre-wedding events and the big day itself. Emmaline was there to keep his personal and home life smooth as the nuptials approached.
“How are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice low. He’d spoken to Emmaline in a similar tone as they’d left the airport in a taxi.
En route to her hotel room.
En route to her first rendezvous with a stranger.
He continued talking to Stella, his voice growing fainter, and Emmaline dared to stick her head around the closet door to see him disappearing into the attached bathroom—bare back, boxer briefs-clad buttocks.
The sound of the shower flipping on broke her from the stupor brought on by that quick glimpse of his strong, muscled ass. Swooping down to gather the discarded dry cleaner’s plastic film, she ordered her pulse to settle and then made for a quick, silent getaway.
With both feet having just breached the hallway, something hot circled her neck, not a hand, but a new, sudden awareness.
Her feet stuttered.
Cold chills ran down her spine.
She didn’t even blink when he said her name.
“Emmaline.”
As if she’d turn around. “Yes, Mr. Curry?” His given name was Lucas, but he’d shared neither the first nor the last that odd, airport night. In any case, she thought it added just the right note of professionalism—or another piece to her armor—to keep her mode of address as formal as her uniform. “Good to see you back, sir. I hope your trip went well.”
She took another step, hoping it appeared she’d just been passing by the open doorway. “I trust I didn’t disturb you.”
“Oh, but you do that, Emmaline,” he murmured.
What? Had she heard him right? “Um, I—”
“Stella tells me you made a last-minute alteration of a dress for her yesterday?”
“Yes.” Emmaline, still with her back to him, tried calming her jumping nerves. Would she ever get used to living with this man?
“Can you look at me?” Mr. Curry asked.
She’d been trying not to! Ever since she’d moved into his beautiful home. “Of course,” she answered, brisk and matter-of-fact.
The Continental Butler Academy would expect no less from her. Clutching the plastic in both hands, she turned, keeping her gaze trained at that favored spot, three inches from his left ear.
Damn her excellent peripheral vision. She could tell his chest remained bare. Was he covered below the waist? Oh, God, he wouldn’t just stand there without anything between her and his…his naked member, would he?
Naked member. The phrase sounded somewhat respectable. Very much unlike how she’d felt in the backseat of that cab with the hard, solid heat of the thing pressed against her hip as they’d kissed like crazy. She’d been in his lap, and he’d held her face in one large hand, positioning her mouth in just the way he wanted it for a deep, shame-free kiss.
But now her cheeks were heating up. “Is there something else you wanted, sir?”
“‘Sir,’” he echoed, and there might have been a thread of laughter in his voice.
But she couldn’t decide because his cool expression didn’t change. He was a very difficult man to read, even that night when she’d acted on impulse and thrown caution to the wind with a very un-Emmaline proposition.
“I missed hearing that the last few days.”
Okay, this was getting seriously weird. Because before he’d left on the trip, he’d treated her as impersonally as a potted plant—albeit one that could schedule the dry cleaners and pay the landscape company from the household checking account.
Mr. Curry cleared his throat. “Well, it’s about Stella.”
“Oh?” As fair as he was dark, his sister was an appealing young woman who obviously doted on her big brother.
“She’s taken a fancy to you,” her boss continued. “The upcoming wedding is making her nervous, and you seem to be a calming influence.”
“It can be a trying time for a woman.” Emmaline had been that nervous bride-to-be—well, in her case, terrified.
Still, Stella was marrying into the family of a new business partner of Mr. Curry’s. The man’s son. Emmaline understood well how that increased expectations.
“I want you to know I appreciate the extra effort.” He hesitated. “And anything you can do in the near-future for Stella…”
“Of course.” Without her permission, Emmaline’s gaze wandered to his mouth. He had lips that were full, but not too full, and white teeth. They’d gleamed in the darkness of the taxi when he’d smiled at her that night, seeming to anticipate being alone with her after the short ride to the nearby hotel.
Now it was her turn to clear her throat, and she once more forced her thoughts away from that embarrassing encounter. “I’m here to do whatever is necessary to make your life easier, sir.”
She thought she saw his lips quirk at that repeat of “sir.”
“Well,” he said, “don’t think I’m unaware that went above and beyond. We’ll have to think up some sort of…bonus.”
The way he weighted that last word made her heart slam against her ribs and her gaze jerk to his. Oh, God. Wrong move, because his eyes could be anyone’s undoing. They were blue, the hot sort of blue, the kind of blue that made a woman think of the summer sky above a Malibu beach and a tiny bikini and the man whose hands would strip it off them.
“My compensation is entirely adequate as is, Mr. Curry,” she choked out,
trying to look anywhere but at him. But his eyes were not only blue, they also had some sticky quality that made it impossible for Emmaline to tear her gaze from him. “Entirely adequate.”
“You’re so…well-trained,” Mr. Curry murmured. “I’ll have to send on my compliments to the Continental Butler Academy.”
“I’m sure they’d appreciate hearing from you,” Emmaline said primly. “Now, if we’re finished…”
“Almost.”
She held herself still and pasted a polite expression of inquiry on her face. “Yes?”
“Just know I won’t forget,” Mr. Curry said, so slowly she wanted to scream then demand he answer why he’d detained her at the open doorway of his room when he was half-dressed and wholly scrumptious.
And about ready to get naked in the shower.
If he wasn’t in that state already. Not that she dared let her gaze drop—they were still staring at each other like it was a contest.
And oh, God, she must be losing her mind because the air between them felt so…so electrified, causing her nerves to hum and the small hairs on her body to stand at attention, even though his expression seemed as inscrutable as ever.
Except for those intense, fiery eyes.
“Yes, Emmaline,” he said now. “I won’t forget that I owe you…something.” Then he smiled, and her fingers twisted in the plastic wrapping as her pulse scrambled and her stomach flipped over, shot dead by that blast of potent testosterone. “Rest assured I’m determined to find a way to settle my debt.”
Then he nodded, clearly dismissing her. She didn’t linger, instead dashing down the hall to put as much distance between them as she could. And to think she’d been thanking the hand of Fate just a short while before!
She’d completely forgotten that the bitch could be a cruel mistress and also that the master of the house might mean big trouble for his butler. I’m determined to find a way to settle my debt, he’d said.
It sounded like a threat, right? And suddenly Emmaline didn’t feel the least bit safe.