The Millionaire Affair (Love in the Balance)

by Jessica Lemmon

  “Probably,” he admitted.

  Her eyes turned up to his. “I don’t want to say that.”

  His hopes levitated. Hopes he had no reason to feel. Kimber wasn’t like the women he’d dated before. She wasn’t cold and calculating. Most of his girlfriends past were career-driven and would sooner dive into oncoming traffic than leave work for a week to do him a favor. Paid or not.

  Despite his reasoning not to encourage her, he did. “Then say what you want.”

  “I want you,” she whispered.

  He wasn’t the kind of guy led around by the silent partner in his pants. Did most of his thinking with the head on his shoulders. But he was having trouble processing—recalibrating—since those three words had tightened a cord of longing attaching his sternum to his balls.

  “Honey,” he rasped, tightening his hold on her arms. “You can have me.” He went for her lips, but she spoke before he caught them.

  “But it could only be temporary.”

  He hadn’t expected her to say something along those lines. Her face clouded with doubt, her words a question rather than a statement that she waited for him to confirm. Yet she’d spoken with authority. Certainty. Almost like she was letting him down easily.

  He’d play along. For now. “Okay.” She had assured him last night that he didn’t have to handle her with kid gloves. “Tell me what you had in mind.”

  Because he had no clue what she was thinking. Lissa had been easy to figure out. She’d always been thinking of one of two things: herself or her career. Kimber, though… the sky was the limit.

  “We can make a list… of things to do. Together…” She flinched, just a little, making him fairly sure she didn’t make a habit of creating sex lists with men. Thank God. “When we reach the end of the list,” she said, “we can end things… no harm, no foul.”

  Well, hell. He liked that. A lot. But he wasn’t this much of a Cretan. “Honey, you don’t have to talk yourself into this. If this is going to be a struggle—”

  She surprised him by laughing. She clapped her hand over her mouth as if she’d surprised herself, too. Lifting her eyes, she met his gaze with that soft, green stare of hers. “It won’t be a struggle for me. I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember.”

  His chest expanded as he pulled all the oxygen he could hold into his lungs. He suddenly wanted to do right by this woman. This honest, sexy, amazing woman. Winding her hair around his fingers, he tested its softness. “Dorothy and the Tin Man,” he murmured.

  “You’re not that heartless,” she said. “And I’m not that innocent.”

  She tipped her lips and kissed him. His hands found the back of her neck as his eyes fell closed. Soon the kiss turned deeper, then borderline rough. His only thoughts were the taste of her, the feel of her against him, his ratcheting pulse rushing the blood to his crotch.

  Until the television rattled from a digital explosion. Lyon cheered from the other room, and Landon pulled his lips from Kimber’s and tried to catch his breath. Their privacy had yet to be breached. But it would be, and long before he’d gotten as far as he wanted.

  “So?” she asked, licking her lips. “What do you think of my proposal?”

  With a sly grin, he pulled her a fraction closer so that her body pressed up against his. He thought it was perfect. He wasn’t in any position for a girlfriend—arranged or not—so her suggestion couldn’t have fit into his life any better. They wanted one another and she, for whatever reason, didn’t want to have a commitment. This was gift wrapped for him.

  “What kind of list?” he asked.

  “Top ten?” she suggested, a mischievous light in her eyes.

  He loved how she kept surprising him. “As you wish.”

  “Then a clean break,” she affirmed with a nod. This was an important part of the agreement, he was seeing. He wasn’t sure why but wasn’t foolish enough to ask.

  “Ten locations?” He leaned in and breathed into her ear, loving how she shuddered. “Or ten positions?” He had no trouble thinking of twenty of each, maybe twenty-five, but he didn’t want to send her fleeing.

  “Both,” she whispered when he kissed her neck. He lingered there a moment, tasting her skin before lifting his face to kiss her lips. She put her palm on his cheek to stop him. “What about Lyon?” she asked. “He rarely sleeps through the night.”

  So she wanted to do this tonight. He was flattered. And excited. He didn’t want to wait, either. “Guess we’ll have to be quiet.” He smiled. “I’ll add that to the list.”

  She chuckled, a decadent sound matching the rich mahogany tones in her hair. “I feel like we’re making battle plans.”

  “Not battle.” No, making love to Kimber Reynolds wouldn’t be a battle. It’d be nothing short of incredible; a perfect release of the tension he’d been stockpiling since he’d landed the Windy City account and his brother had appeared on his doorstep.

  Locking his arms around her waist he kissed her again, tugging her against him. Like before, he eased into her, losing the pressure of the day in her mouth. His knotted shoulders lowered from his ears. But this kiss… this kiss was a promise of more. Tonight if they could swing it.

  As much “more” as we can squeeze in after Lyon’s bedtime.

  CHAPTER NINE

  After she escaped Landon’s interlocking arms, Kimber retreated to her bedroom using the excuse of a shower. She’d been thorough, shaving every part of her body and following up with a sheen of moisturizer.

  You can do this. You can do this.

  She could. The hard part was over. The part where she’d suggested they use each other up. It was a tinge disconcerting how quickly he’d agreed. Purposefully, she threw her shoulders back. She was not over-thinking this. Fun-night stands, by definition, were supposed to be fun. And she intended to have some freaking fun for once. As she closed her eyes, she took a deep breath. A fun, sexy romp. A roll in the hay. Nothing more.

  Don’t make this into anything more.

  With that mantra ringing in her ears, she opened a dresser drawer to search for passably sexy underwear. She hesitated over her underthings, laughing darkly when the closest thing she’d found to a set was a pair of black panties and a charcoal gray bra.

  Landon’s last girlfriend had been a Victoria’s Secret model, for goodness’ sake, and Kimber couldn’t find a matching set of lingerie. Her undergarments were far more function than form. Sturdy, not clingy or lacey or particularly sexy.

  They would have to do. She wouldn’t be wearing them long, anyway.

  This is such a bad idea. Like seeing a train’s headlight in the distance but refusing to step off the tracks.

  Stop it. No more analyzing.

  Glo may be a party girl, but she had her moments of pinpoint insight. And her friend’s call on the situation with Landon was right on. Kimber and Landon wanted one another. Neither of them was in the space where they wanted more than something physical. This was the perfect solution.

  Kimber, for one, was wildly attracted to him. She hadn’t worked out yet if she was just convenient to him or if he really liked her, but she’d concluded it didn’t really matter. It isn’t like we’ll be making holiday plans together.

  After agonizing over what to wear, she settled on an off-the-shoulder striped T-shirt and short cotton shorts. She left her feet bare and navigated the hallway until she reached the living room. There she found Landon, in his suit pants, arm flung over the back of the couch with Lyon’s head resting on his leg. It was so cute, her heart gave a little tug.

  No tugging. This is your fun-night stand. No tugging allowed unless it’s in the bedroom.

  “Couldn’t resist the lure of Henry Cavill, I see.” Landon nodded at the screen.

  “Who can?”

  Lyon shushed them, eyes glued to the screen. Landon’s lips twitched in amusement as he reprimanded him by ruffling his hair and saying, “Don’t be rude. I am allowed to speak.”

  She sat on the couch at Lyon’s feet, snugg
ling into the fabric and calming her nerves with a deep breath. No matter what, she wouldn’t sit here and fret over what might happen tonight. Over the agreement she’d made—the agreement she’d needed to make. An agreement that would allow her to have a clean slate, a do-over.

  And the time of your adult life.

  That, too. She wondered if Landon had taken her seriously. If he’d really made a list. She had started one. There were three things on it. And they weren’t all that adventurous.

  A flash of movement to her right caught her eye and she turned her head. Landon turned his palm up and watched her, head propped on his other arm, one eyebrow raised over the rim of his glasses.

  She shifted and laid her arm over the couch before resting her palm in his. Holding her hand, he turned his attention to the screen and they sat that way the rest of the movie. Occasionally, he would rearrange their fingers or rub her thumb with his, but he never let go. Once, he looked over and she met his heated gaze, saw in it the promises of things to come. The heat transferred from his body to hers, causing her palm to grow damp.

  The movie credits rolled and he lifted a snoozing Lyon off the couch and murmured he was going to tuck him in. “Meet you in your room,” he’d whispered before vanishing into his nephew’s bedroom, Lyon in his arms.

  That left her to walk to her room alone, contemplating her “fun-night stand” along the way. Heated kisses, the slide of sheets against their nude bodies. She shuddered and closed her door. Then stared at it, chewing her lip. She hadn’t taken this gig to get laid. Hadn’t, in her wildest imaginings thought for one deluded second Landon would agree to sleep with her. If she’d known then what she knew now, would she still have said yes?

  More than once, she thought wryly.

  But sex with Landon was about more than sacking a hot guy. Being with him would be a dream come true, a fantasy sixteen years in the making, a night of—

  Gloria’s scolding face popped into Kimber’s psyche, and her brain registered a warning.

  Oh. Right.

  The point was not to make this into more than what it was. The point was to prove to herself once and for all she could have a fling. She didn’t have to turn every relationship into potential matrimony. She could love ’em and leave ’em with the best of them.

  Kimber chewed on a fingernail. This was ridiculous. She was as skilled at not getting attached as she was at knife-throwing. In other words: not at all.

  Time to turn that around then.

  She’d never find a husband if she kept smothering the life out of her dates. If she kept caging them into her world and not letting them breathe. A small part of her started to argue that she wasn’t quite the Black Widow she’d just accused herself of being, but she shut down her defenses. She had to get out of this rut. And it was a deep rut. One mired with mud, and desperation, and the bones of her past relationships.

  Tired of staring at the door like a desperate dog waiting on its owner to return, she went to the bathroom and fussed with her hair. She brushed her teeth again, checked her toenail polish, swept powder over her nose. She sat on the bed. Then laid on it. Then got up and remade it so that there were no wrinkles on the duvet.

  She frowned at the door, then at herself, for waiting around like a good little maiden. Either Lyon was awake and being a bear, or Landon was taking his sweet time coming to her. Either way, she needed to find out what was going on outside of her room.

  At the end of the hallway, both Landon’s and Lyon’s bedroom doors stood open, Lyon’s nightlight glowing in the darkness. She was headed that way when voices echoed down the bisecting corridor, coming from the direction of the kitchen. She recognized Landon’s low murmur immediately, and a secondary voice. A man’s voice. Evan.

  She hesitated, her face heating as she remembered the compromised conversation Evan had caught her in the middle of not so long ago. But since she was being brave and bold—ha!—she took a deep breath and entered the kitchen anyway.

  Evan sat next to his son holding a crayon. Lyon swung his feet back and forth under the kitchen chair, filling in the spaces on a fresh coloring book.

  Lyon looked up when she walked in. “Look, Kimber!” he shouted, no evidence he’d been out cold minutes ago, “Man of Steel coloring book!” He lifted the picture he was working on and showed her.

  “Wow, does your dad know you, or what?” She cast an approving glance at Evan.

  Evan winked at her. But not in a flirty way. In an I Know What You Did Last Summer way. She licked her lips nervously and flicked her attention to the island where Landon was leaning on his forearms.

  “Did we wake you?” he asked. Oh, that dirty devil. He didn’t smile, didn’t waggle his eyebrows, but she could see the heat in his eyes, the slight twitch of his lips.

  “I wasn’t asleep,” she answered as evenly as she was able.

  He gave in and smiled, sending her pulse into a hectic rhythm. She bit down on her lip, studying the dip in his chin, the way his capable hands were folded neatly on the counter where he leaned. He may be trying to look casual, but she could see the rigidity in his spine. No, he was coiled. Ready to pounce. Ready to get the hell out of this kitchen.

  A shiver climbed her spine but heated as it licked its way down. She pressed her thighs together to keep flames from gathering between her legs and setting her alight. The man could level her with a look. While she stood next to his unassuming brother and nephew.

  Good Lord, Kimber, pull it together.

  She was about to make an excuse about needing a bottle of water when Evan spoke.

  “I’ll just crash in Lyon’s room.” He addressed Landon, obviously picking up the conversation they’d been having before she interrupted.

  “Are you staying tomorrow, too?” Landon kept leaning, his eyes trained on his brother. Somehow, though, she felt him watching her from his peripheral; knew he had a plan he was working out this very moment.

  Evan colored part of Superman’s boot orange and Lyon argued he was doing it wrong. He relinquished the orange crayon and accepted the red one. “I want to take Lyon to Navy Pier, but yeah, we’ll be out of your place by morning. We’ll get breakfast out, too.” He nudged his son. “Chocolate chip pancakes okay?”

  The boy’s wide smile showcased his toothless gap. “Yeah!”

  Her attack of lust faded as her insides turned to mush. She was going to miss this exuberant kid. Much more than she’d anticipated.

  “I showed my new paintings to Gloria,” Evan told her. She recalled her friend’s earlier claim about how Evan was “hot with two Ts” and wondered if Glo had flirted with him. Probably. Glo was never one to hold back, and he was obviously a complete flirt.

  “How did they turn out?”

  “She loved them.” His eyes held a guarded sparkle. Because Gloria appreciated his hard work? Or… something more? The way he’d said her name made Kimber think he and Glo might have discussed more than business… without clothing.

  She felt a displaced stab of jealousy. She’d lost the opportunity to make love to Landon tonight. They might be able to sneak past Lyon, but Evan was another problem entirely.

  “Glo has good taste,” she said noncommittally.

  Evan narrowed his eyes, his thick, dark lashes almost obscuring the blue. “So.” He smirked. “What are you doing tonight?” The tone of his voice suggested he knew full well her intentions.

  “I’m turning in,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “Just… came in to say good night.” Yep. Just wandered down here to say good night to the Downey clan before returning to my lonely room. Alone. And by myself.

  Landon stood from his casual lean against the countertop. “Lyon, how would you like to sleep in the bedroom with the giant bathtub?”

  “Can I take a bath in it?”

  Evan and Landon exchanged glances. “Up to your dad,” Landon said, eyeing his brother intently.

  “You mean the bedroom on the opposite side of the house.” Evan pointed to the room beyond the
kitchen. The only bedroom on that side of the house. “Instead of over there.” He pointed in the other direction. “Where yours and Kimber’s bedrooms are.”

  Her face grew warm with embarrassment.

  Landon didn’t balk. “Right.”

  Evan looked over at her and she swore she flushed twelve shades of red. They were arranging the sleeping situation around the fact that Landon and she were going to… going to…

  Lord. She had to get out of this room. “Good night,” she blurted.

  “ ’Night,” Lyon said, not looking up from his coloring.

  She knelt next to him before she went. “Don’t forget to say good-bye to me in the morning, okay?” Lyon nodded and she kissed his cheek. He hugged her neck, and the feel of those small but strong arms made her chest tighten. She was going to miss this kid. Before her haphazard emotions got the better of her, she said a hurried good night to Evan, but didn’t speak to Landon at all. He watched her silently, his face still and unreadable. Bravery gone, she ran for her bedroom and shut the door behind her.

  The knock came fifteen minutes later.

  She’d been lying on top of the covers, dressed, wondering if Landon would come to her. Her nervous heart was pummeling her ribs by the time she pulled open the door—just a crack—and found him leaning a shoulder on the jamb. He hadn’t changed from his slacks and shirt he’d worn to work today, though he’d long since lost the tie he’d worn this morning. She allowed her eyes to trickle down his throat, to the top of his chest and back up again.

  His lips quirked into a sharp, predatory grin. “Hi.”

  Her everything began to tingle. “Landon, I—”

  He pushed on the panel and she let him in, holding the door open and waiting for him to enter. She flicked a quick look to the empty hallway, feeling stupidly guilty and nervous. Like they were doing something wrong.

  But we’re not. We’re grown-ups. He was comfortable with this situation, why couldn’t she be? Because you’re as adventurous as a thumbtack.

  He took off his glasses and dropped them on the dresser, then held up empty hands. “Look. No baby monitor.”