Exposed: Her Undercover Millionaire

by Michelle Celmer

  He reached over and laid his hand over hers, giving it a squeeze, and she felt a corresponding squeeze in her heart. She almost wished he would keep holding her hand, but he let go and rested it back on the steering wheel.

  “So, no serious boyfriends in high school,” he said. “What about college?”

  “There were a lot of first dates, and a few short-term relationships, but no one I ever fell madly in love with. There was one guy I dated in my junior year that got serious to the point that we were considering moving in together. But it just never happened. There was always some reason why it wasn’t a good time. Then he graduated and took a job in Chicago. We tried to do the long-distance thing, but it didn’t take long before we drifted apart.”

  “Were you in love with him?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe, in a way I was. I definitely loved him as a friend. But honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever really been ‘in love’ with anyone.” Which was why these intense feelings she was having for Brandon were so…unusual.

  “And now you don’t have time,” he said.

  “Not since I started my company. Besides, who in their right mind would want to date a woman who works eighty-hour weeks?”

  He looked her way and grinned, and her heart did the funny little fluttery thing. “I guess it depends on the woman. And the man.”

  Well, she was still very single, meaning no man had found her so engaging he would tolerate her crazy schedule. Not that she’d been looking. And it wasn’t very likely that the perfect man would just happen to come along. Which was okay. “For me, it’s easier not to get involved right now. It’s less complicated.”

  “And lonely, I’ll bet.”

  “I don’t have time to be lonely,” she said, but that wasn’t completely true. Occasionally, she missed just having someone to share things with, and the lack of physical intimacy sucked sometimes. Not that sex had ever been so fantastic that she felt it was something she couldn’t live without.

  Yet something told her it would be different with Brandon, and now, it seemed to be all she could think about.

  “Does that mean you never want to get married?” Brandon asked Paige. Only out of curiosity, of course. After Ashleigh, he wasn’t sure he would ever consider marriage again. Not for a long time, anyway.

  “Someday, maybe,” she said.

  “What about kids?”

  “I’ve never felt a burning need to have children. Not yet. I’m sure I will when the time is right.”

  “And when will that be?”

  “When my business is established. When I formed the company I had a three-year plan, and year three just started. That’s why the Hannah’s Hope account came along at just the right time.”

  “And if it takes four years, or six?”

  “I’m young, so there’s no rush.”

  He would venture to guess that there were women out there who’d had similar plans, putting career over marriage and family, then suddenly found themselves pushing forty with no husband and no kids and a whole lot of regrets.

  Not that he believed a woman needed those things to feel complete. Not all women. Besides, who was he to pass judgment?

  He switched to the right lane and merged onto the I-15 going north. At the risk of offending her he asked, “How old are you, by the way?”

  “I turned twenty-eight on January twenty-second.”

  He glanced over at her, to see if she was kidding. If maybe she’d looked in his file or something. “No way.”

  She looked at him funny. “Yes way.”

  “Your birthday is really January twenty-second?”

  “It really is.”

  “So is mine.”

  Her brows rose. “Seriously?”

  He laughed. “What are the odds, huh?”

  “That is a little weird.”

  In his entire life he’d never met anyone with the same birthday. “Maybe it’s fate.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t believe in fate. I believe a person is in control of their own destiny. My life is what I make of it. There are no cosmic forces determining what will and won’t happen.”

  “I disagree,” he said, which earned him a curious look. “Do you really think it was coincidence that two days before my wedding I just happened to come home from a business trip early, and just happened to notice the light on in the barn, and went to go check it? And just happened to catch Ashleigh—if you’ll pardon the expression—with her pants down?” The exit he wanted was just up ahead on the right so he merged over.

  “Your boss sends you on business trips?” she asked.

  “Business trips?”

  “You said you came back early from a business trip.”

  Damn, had he? He needed to be more careful. He was so comfortable with her, he was letting his guard down. “My boss was considering purchasing a few horses. I went with him to look at them.”

  “And you just happened to come back early?”

  “Like I said, fate.”

  “You know, I think you’re the first guy I’ve ever met who believes that kind of thing. Or the first one who would actually admit it.”

  He laughed. “Oh, no, have I emasculated myself? I thought women appreciated a man with a sensitive side.”

  “Maybe it’s just that the men I’ve dated have always been more…practical.”

  “In other words, boring.”

  “Sometimes. But I prefer men who are safe.”

  “That’s funny, last night you said you preferred men who were bad for you.”

  She bit her lip. “I did?”

  “So which is it?” He pulled off the interstate onto the road leading to the park. “Good guys or bad guys?”

  “Maybe it would be nice for a change to find someone who was a little of both.” She looked out the passenger window and said, “Are we there?”

  “Almost.” He watched for the narrow access road that he’d discovered accidentally last month when he’d started coming here. It was so hidden by vegetation, he almost missed it. He took a left down what was barely more than a dirt path, and clearly posted as park maintenance access only. But he never had been one to follow the rules.

  “Where are we?” Paige asked.

  “Canyon Trail Park.” They hit a dip in the road and almost got whiplash.

  Paige grabbed the door. “Is this even a real road?”

  He looked over at her and grinned. “Technically, no. It’s more of an access road. I discovered it by accident.”

  “So, technically, we’re not supposed to be here.”

  “Technically, no. But they haven’t caught me yet.”

  “How often do you come here?”

  “Every now and then when I’m in town. I’m not much of a city person. I need a place I can go to be alone.”

  He followed the road several hundred yards into a small, grassy clearing that was always devoid of cars, or any sign of other people. He parked in the shade of the trees and they climbed out of the truck.

  She looked around, brow furrowed. “Maybe this is a stupid question, but what if one of us has to use the bathroom?”

  “There’s a public restroom about a quarter of a mile through there,” he said, pointing to a small break in the underbrush. “Or if you don’t want to walk that far, there are plenty of trees around. Although you’ll want to watch out for poison ivy.”

  She shot him a look.

  He shrugged. “The public restroom it is.”

  Brandon pulled out the thick wool blanket he kept behind the driver’s seat and spread it on the grass in the shade of a tree.

  Paige sat down, breathing in the fresh air. “It’s really pretty here.”

  He lowered himself down beside her. “It’s a little early for lunch.”

  “So what will we do until then?”

  He shrugged. “Relax?”

  She looked at him funny, like the concept was totally foreign to her. “I don�
��t think I know how. Can’t we take a hike or something? Or maybe we should discuss the gala and what will be expected of you.”

  It was going to be tough seducing her if she couldn’t sit still for two minutes. “Or we could just sit here enjoying the mild weather.”

  “But why just sit here if we have things we could be accomplishing?”

  Wow, she really didn’t know how to relax. And somehow he didn’t think forcing her was an option. But if she wanted to do something, then they would.

  “In that case, I have an idea.” He pushed himself to his feet and stuck out his hand to help her up. “Get up.”

  She slid her hand into his and he hoisted her to her feet. “What are we going to do?”

  “I’m going to teach you to line dance.”

  Her eyes went wide. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Nope.”

  “Brandon, I can’t.”

  “Last night you said you couldn’t slow dance and you figured that out.”

  “This is different. Line dancing requires coordination, which I’m sure you noticed I am pathetically lacking.”

  “Once you learn the steps, it’s just a matter of practicing. And out here you don’t have to be worried about embarrassing yourself because there’s no one to see you.”

  That didn’t seem like much of a consolation for her.

  “I’ll teach you some simple steps first,” he said. “When you get the hang of it we’ll put on some music and try it out.”

  “How long have you got? Because that could take a really long time.”

  “That’s fine,” he said with a grin. “I have all day.”

  She still looked wary, so he added, “It’s that or we just sit here relaxing. Your choice.”

  And if he had his way, dancing wasn’t the only physical activity they would be getting today.

  Six

  It was obvious by Brandon’s grin, that he wasn’t going to let Paige off the hook. This was his idea of a fun day? But the thought of sitting here doing nothing made her edgy.

  “Fine,” she grumbled. “But for the record, I’m not happy about this.”

  “You’ll do great,” he said, looking pleased with himself, rubbing his hands together. “Okay, stand beside me and do exactly what I do.”

  He made it sound so easy, and it was clear, as he showed her the various steps, he was a really good dancer. And she really wasn’t. She watched carefully when he demonstrated, but when she tried to copy him, she couldn’t make her feet cooperate. It was as if she suffered from coordination dyslexia. Every time he went left, she went right—usually running into him—or if he stepped back, she stepped forward.

  After twenty minutes or so, when they had managed to make no progress whatsoever and her last botched move landed her on his booted foot again, Brandon eyed her with suspicion and said, “Are you just messing with me, or are you really that uncoordinated?”

  “I really am. It’s hopeless.”

  He sighed, scratching his chin. “I think part of your problem is that you’re trying too hard. You just need to relax.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t totally suck at this.”

  “I didn’t come out of the womb knowing how to dance, you know. It took practice.”

  She seriously doubted it took even close to the amount of practice she would need. It wasn’t helping that she kept getting distracted watching him move. She’d never met a man more blatantly male, yet he had an innate grace that was mesmerizing. She could only imagine how good he looked in the saddle.

  Or naked. Not that she would ever find out.

  “Now, watch my feet,” he said, “And try to relax. This is supposed to be fun.”

  She could think of other “fun” things she would rather be doing with him, but only because he kept touching her. She never knew line dancing could be so intimate. A hand on her shoulder or the small of her back as he showed her a step, or the bump of his hip against hers when she inevitably did it wrong. Every time they made any sort of physical contact, it got her thinking about the kiss this morning, and how much she wanted to do it again. Brandon, on the other hand, seemed content honoring her request to keep things platonic. Which both relieved and annoyed her. She wanted to know that she wasn’t suffering alone. That all the touching was as torturous for him as it was for her.

  At around eleven-thirty he swabbed his forehead with his sleeve and said, “Phew! It’s getting warm out here.” Then he grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulled it up over his head and tossed it into the truck bed.

  Oh, good Lord.

  He was perfect. Tanned and muscular and just…just…beautiful. He had a sprinkling of blond hair across his pecs, and a trail from his navel that disappeared under the waist of his jeans. She couldn’t help imagining what it would feel like to touch it.

  This was supposed to help her relax? Seriously? She could hardly breathe. And was that drool running down her chin?

  She swiped it with the back of her hand just in case.

  “Let’s try that last part again,” he said. “Only this time, stand behind me and watch my feet.”

  Good God, was he serious? That left her free to openly stare without him knowing. So much male perfection. Wide shoulders, a strong back. And his butt…

  She sighed softly. Brandon was all man, and then some.

  He looked back at her over his shoulder. “Are you following me?”

  She dragged her gaze up to his face, feeling slightly faint. “Following you?”

  “The steps. You’re supposed to be doing them with me.”

  Had he been doing steps? She’d been too preoccupied staring at his ass to notice. “Sorry, I thought I was supposed to be watching.”

  “Put your hands on my shoulders.”

  Huh? He wanted her to touch him? “Why?”

  “So you can move with me.”

  She swallowed hard and stepped up close, but he was so tall she couldn’t reach higher than his upper back without plastering herself against him. His skin was warm and smooth and a little damp with sweat, and she could feel the muscles shift underneath as he moved. If having her hands on him had any effect on Brandon he didn’t let it show, but it was sure as heck affecting her.

  He stepped left, left, forward, forward, and she was doing okay. Right, right, back, back. She was doing it.

  Left, left, forward—

  She went forward and he went back and she slammed into him again. She was so close she bumped her nose against his spine, and he was so solid she sort of…bounced off. She nearly landed on her butt in the grass. Brandon spun around and caught her by the arm. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” This time. But that felt a lot like running into a tree trunk.

  This was like the Three Stooges Dance Academy, minus one Stooge.

  “Let’s not do that again,” she said.

  “But you were doing pretty good for a minute.”

  “Yeah, but if I run into you like that again I might wind up with a concussion.”

  He folded his arms—which only accentuated how big they were—and gave her a look. “Maybe we should take a break.”

  “Could we, please?”

  “Let’s have lunch.”

  They settled down on the blanket. She sort of hoped he would put his shirt back on, but no such luck. So of course, she couldn’t stop staring at his chest. She was so mesmerized at one point that when she tried to take a bite of her salad she missed her mouth and speared her lower lip with a plastic fork. She would have been perfectly content to sit there all afternoon staring, but Brandon was a man on a mission. As soon as they’d eaten, he dragged her back up for the second half of her lesson.

  Even she had to admit that after another hour or so she started to get used to his bare chest, and the intoxicating scent of his aftershave. And as she followed his steps, she was running into him a lot less. Far from perfect, but she didn’t feel quite so hopelessly inept. When she made it through an entire routine with only a few minor misstep
s, Brandon announced that it was time to try it to music. He rolled down the truck windows and turned on the stereo to a country-and-western station.

  The main problem of dancing to the music was that it was faster, and she started getting confused again. Within seconds she was right back where she started, ramming into him and stepping on his feet.

  “Maybe the music was a bad idea,” he finally said.

  She blew out a frustrated breath. “Maybe the entire dancing idea was stupid. I suck.”

  “You do not suck. You’re getting better.”

  “Can we please take another break? I’m exhausted.”

  “Five minutes.”

  She collapsed down on the blanket, lying flat on her back with her eyes closed. She felt him sit beside her.

  She opened her eyes and looked up at him, intending to thank him for being patient with her, when she saw silhouetted against the sun, some enormous, creepy bug dive-bombing her head. She tried to roll out of the way but it came at her like a kamikaze pilot. It landed on her head and got tangled in her hair. She jolted up, batting it away.

  “Get it out!” she screeched.

  Brandon grabbed her shoulders to still her. “Calm down. I’ll get it.”

  She had to fight not to squirm while he picked whatever it was from her hair.

  “It’s just a dragonfly,” he said, holding it out so she could see. “They’re actually supposed to be good luck.”

  Her cheeks flushed. She must have looked like a total moron thrashing around like that. “Sorry. Old habits.”

  He released it and it flew away. “You get bugs in your hair a lot?”

  “Well, not anymore.”

  He was frowning, and she could see he was curious to know what she meant.

  “Our trailer was infested with cockroaches. No matter how much I sprayed we couldn’t get rid of them. I used to wake up at night with them crawling in my hair.”

  He didn’t say a word. Maybe he wasn’t sure what to say. Instead, he put his arms around her, pulled her against him and just held her.

  It was so unexpected, so exactly the right thing to do, tears sprang to her eyes and she had to fight to keep them from spilling over.