Her Rich Millionaire Playboy_A Vintage Romance

by Amberlee Day

  The stranger extended his hand to her aunt. “Ned Sterling.”

  “Ned Sterling,” Aunt Affie repeated. “So nice to meet you. This is my great-niece, Beverly.”

  Ned Sterling’s eye twinkle had dimmed—or cloaked, maybe, but that worked—but Beverly felt no need to acknowledge his handshake when he offered it to her. She looked away again.

  “Nice to meet you.” She knew she didn’t sound sincere, but she didn’t care. It was creepy that he already knew who Aunt Affie was. Beverly had seen the flyers, and there wasn’t a picture on it, so how did he recognize her? Besides, let him woo someone else with his good looks. She might not be immune, but she could still make sure he knew she wasn’t interested.

  “Nice to meet you as well,” he said. “Are you both staying here at Trenforth?”

  “Yes,” Beverly said, as he’d addressed her. She raised her chin just a smidge. “We’re on a castle tour.”

  Ned nodded, his gaze moving back and forth between the women. “Have you been to many yet?”

  “Three in California, one in Oregon, and planning on one more here in Washington,” Aunt Affie answered. Beverly frowned. She wished her aunt was more careful about giving out information. Maybe it was a generational thing to be more or less suspicious.

  “Do you give lectures at each castle you visit?” he asked, still weirdly interested.

  “No,” Aunt Affie said. “The main purpose is research, but sometimes a request is made.”

  Beverly suppressed a smile. Usually the request was made after Aunt Affie had talked to the owners or caretakers long enough that they asked her to speak, along with an offer to stay at the castle for free, or at least at a discount. Trenforth was a discount. A smart trick on her aunt’s part: without a grant to help out, it was keeping their costs down considerably.

  “How much longer is your trip?” Ned asked.

  “That depends.” Aunt Affie wore her shrewd face for some reason Beverly couldn’t fathom. What was she up to?

  “I should ask, when do you plan on leaving Trenforth?” Ned’s gaze darted to Beverly, but he seemed to be in on whatever Aunt Affie was thinking.

  “Day after tomorrow,” she said, squinting her wrinkled eyes at him.

  “And then on to Demander Castle, yes?”

  How did he know that? Of course, it’s the only other noted castle in the state.

  “Yes,” Aunt Affie said. “We’re going there.”

  “And would you like to speak there?” Ned asked.

  Beverly’s feelers went up a little higher. Just what was going on?

  Aunt Affie said, “I might. I’m not sure how long we’ll be staying there, though. We need to be finishing our trip, and traveling can be expensive.”

  Ned nodded. “Perhaps if you were willing to speak, arrangements could be worked out?”

  “And would you be someone who would have influence on that?” Beverly asked. She thought it highly unlikely that this random stranger would happen to be capable of offering them discounted lodging at a castle that was nearly a hundred miles away.

  A look passed between Ned and Aunt Affie, and Beverly suspected that somehow this attractive man and her aunt were kindred spirits. Both were capable of negotiating for what they wanted.

  “I’m sorry, I hate to interrupt you two,” Beverly said, “but I feel like I’m missing something. Aunt Affie, do you know this man?”

  A wide grin spread across the elderly features. “Didn’t you catch our new friend’s name, Beverly? I’m surprised you missed it. Ned Sterling. Remember, I told you the name of the family who owns Demander Castle.”

  Ah. “Sterling. Yes, I guess you did. Somewhere between castles in California, I think you mentioned it. I guess I forgot.”

  Ned tipped an imaginary cap at Beverly, sending an involuntary thrill through her. Clearly she’d been spending too much time hiding behind her books if the first really good-looking man she’d met in a long time affected her this much. She willed her thrills to behave.

  “And how did we get so lucky to come across you here on the stairway at Trenforth?” Beverly asked.

  Ned nodded. At least he recognized that it was a little stalker-ish. “It’s not an accident that I’m here. The manager is an old friend of mine, and let me know you would be here. She also told me of your arrangement.”

  “And what was that?” Aunt Affie asked.

  “Discounted rooms in exchange for a public lecture,” Ned answered simply. “I’d like to offer you that at Demander Castle.”

  Aunt Affie’s grin returned. “I hoped that’s where we were going with this.”

  “And do you accept?”

  Beverly knew what her aunt would say. She loved to snag a good deal, especially one based on her importance. But something about how smoothly this was coming about made Beverly uncomfortable. Like Sherlock Holmes said—or was it Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock Holmes?—the universe was rarely so lazy as to allow coincidence. “Aunt Affie, maybe we should consider—”

  “Nothing to consider,” her aunt said. “Mr. Sterling, you have a deal.”

  Ned Sterling picked up his drink for a sip, more for a chance to subtly spy over the rim at the beautiful woman across the room than to actually quench his thirst. It had been a long time since he’d met a woman who caught his interest like Beverly Tune did … which meant he needed to keep her close enough to use her as an advantage, and far enough to keep from being distracted.

  The dinner and lecture complete, mingling had officially been underway for the past half hour in the Trenforth dining hall. Beverly was currently stuck in a conversation with the local historical society president, a boorish man who was more interested in spreading gossip than discussing history. Beverly had plastered a noncommittal expression on her face to get through it, which amused Ned. He knew the feeling; he’d suffered through a monologue with that man before. Maybe he’d save her in a minute, just to be charitable and win her over, but for now he appreciated the opportunity to really look at her.

  Tall, lithe. The black sheath dress she wore gave hints of a trim figure. Her wheat-colored hair wound up on the top of her head in a bun, and he imagined what it would be like to pull out the pins and let it cascade over her shoulders. Or past her shoulders, even. He wondered too what she did during the day when she wasn’t escorting her aunt. Her nails were short and neat, so she probably did some kind of work with her hands.

  When Beverly’s shoulders rose and dropped in a sigh, he suspected her patience with the historian was ebbing. Ned put down his glass and went to her aid. Hopefully it would help get him an in with Dr. Tune if her niece didn’t hate him.

  Trenforth hadn’t managed to get a live band for the evening at such short notice, but music played over the sound system for dancing, and when a slow song began, he knew how to give the historian the slip.

  “Pardon me,” Ned said, interrupting something that sounded like gossip, “Miss Tune, the evening is nearly over and I haven’t given you that dance you asked for. I wouldn’t want you to leave disappointed.”

  Beverly’s eyes flared, which was his intent. He wasn’t normally one to poke a bear, but he couldn’t resist watching her reaction. He’d only been around her intermittently during the evening, but every time their eyes met, he had the pleasure of seeing that angry spark. And fortunately, he’d waited long enough to rescue her that she would take even that offer.

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Sterling. I thought you’d forgotten. Excuse me,” she said to the historian, who smiled and nodded as Ned took Beverly’s elbow—a very silky elbow—and led her to the dance floor, where he half expected her to slap him and leave. But his timing with the historian must have been perfect, because she accepted the dance without a fuss.

  And what a rush to get to hold her in his arms! And unexpected. They’d barely met and she was already disposed to be hostile toward him for some reason; and yet when they stepped on the dance floor, she didn’t stop him from taking her hand in his, or resting a hand
on her waist. She felt perfect there. He’d never complain about his childhood dancing lessons again.

  He did, however, have to remind himself to stay focused.

  “Funny,” she said. “I don’t remember asking you to dance.”

  He smirked. “It was telepathic.” The pleasure of watching her bristle increased a hundredfold when he could feel it, too, and his own blood warmed in response. He chuckled. “And you didn’t even know I could read minds.”

  “I don’t know that you have a mind,” she seethed.

  “Ouch!” He winced. “So much hate, and you don’t even know my middle name yet.”

  The bristle again, to his delight. He inhaled her scent, wanting to enjoy every moment of this dance. It probably wouldn’t be repeated, the way it was going.

  “I don’t hate you,” she said. “I don’t know you. That’s the problem. You’re assuming familiarity.”

  “Then I guess we’ll have to remedy that.” He wouldn’t normally act so smarmy, but besides the need to win her over, finding ways to make the lovely Beverly Tune react was quickly becoming his new favorite activity.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Tell me, then, Mr. Sterling. Is it because you own a castle that you think you can flirt with anyone you want?”

  He looked around innocently before returning his gaze to hers. “I’m not flirting with just anyone. I’m flirting with you.”

  If looks could kill … Before she could retort, he changed his tone. “Honestly, Miss Tune, I’m just trying to be nice. I’d like to get to know you, since you and your aunt will be spending some time at Demander Castle.”

  “I bet.”

  “Honest,” he said. “I’d be the same way if Dr. Tune’s niece had been haggle-toothed and bald.”

  “Really.” She didn’t believe him.

  “It’s true.”

  Beverly pursed her lips. “Alright, then, Mr. Sterling.”

  “Just Ned.”

  “If we’re being honest, tell me. Was it really just a coincidence that you happened upon my aunt on the stairs right when she needed assistance? Or had you been following her?”

  A naughty impulse shot through Ned. “Who says it was your aunt I was following?”

  Oooh, there it was! Her eyes flew open like two baby birds.

  Before she could respond and possibly hurt him—or worse, walk away—he confessed. “No, I wasn’t following either you or your aunt, Beverly. I didn’t even know who I was helping until after we were seated.”

  “So you were just being a good boy scout, helping a little old lady?”

  He chuckled. “I was actually a great boy scout once upon a time, thanks for guessing. I even have the merit badges to prove it. I did just get lucky, though, that the person I was hoping to speak with tonight happened to be in front of me on the stairs. And before you bite my head off again, I do mean your aunt.”

  She exhaled, and relaxed for a moment. He resisted the urge to pull her closer. That wouldn’t be playing fair for either of them. She would probably just stomp on his foot and leave if he did.

  “But honestly, you didn’t really come all this way just to see my aunt, did you?” she asked.

  He did, but he wasn’t going to admit it. “No, I had some business in the area. The manager here—Natalia—mentioned the gala and last-minute history presentation on castles, and that was right up my alley.”

  “Because you own a castle.”

  An old shadow passed over his good spirits. Beverly couldn’t have known—or maybe she did. He closed his eyes to let it pass, along with any suspicions that she would know his pain, before turning his smile back on her. “I don’t actually own the castle, Beverly.”

  No, she didn’t know, he could see. “Then why does my aunt think you do?”

  “My mother was a Demander. She inherited the castle. When she died, it went to my father, Philip Sterling.”

  Beverly tilted her head in thought—a very pretty and natural gesture, which made him wonder again what she did when she wasn’t here. “If you’re the next in that bloodline,” she asked, “why didn’t you inherit directly? Sorry, perhaps that’s nosy.”

  He shook his head. “Not at all. Most people know, probably your aunt as well. This isn’t like some old English family where a title and assets are passed to the oldest son. We’re as American as you are. When my mother died quite young, she hadn’t yet put together a will. Her husband—my father—automatically inherited everything.”

  “Including Demander Castle,” she said with a soft, thoughtful tone.

  “Yes. Including the castle.”

  “And you received nothing?”

  Ned shrugged. “I was only sixteen.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Her expression had softened, as had her body.

  This time he did take advantage of the opportunity—damn the consequences of that; he was only human—and pulled her as close as he dared, his hand moving from her waist all the way around her back. Surprised, she opened her mouth, presumably to protest, but was interrupted.

  “Miss Tune.” Natalia had joined them, the top of her sleek dark head reaching Beverly’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I’ve been sharing Trenforth history with your aunt, and I believe I’ve worn her out. She asked me to tell you she’s ready to go.”

  Ned exhaled in frustration. This dance with Beverly was the nicest thing he’d done in ages. He wasn’t ready to let her go, and he released his hold on her reluctantly.

  “Thank you for the dance, Mr. Sterling.” Her eyes flashed at him, though he wasn’t sure if it was attraction or irritation. Well, it was irritation, but he could pretend.

  “Ned,” he corrected her, but she was already walking away. The movement of that long dress over her figure as she walked mesmerized him, until Natalia stepped in the way.

  “Looks like you’re without a partner,” she said, stepping into the spot where Beverly had been. It was definitely not the same, but Natalia was an old friend. A new song came on, a little jazzier than the last. “What do you think about Dr. Tune? Any sign that she’ll work with you?”

  Ned tore his eyes from where Beverly was helping her aunt up from her table, and tried to clear his head. “I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t even have the right to ask her. I’ve already overstepped by offering a discount for agreeing to lecture. Who knows—that might end up coming out of my pocket in the end.”

  “Sheesh. I’d ask you if it’s really that bad, but knowing your father, I know you’re not kidding.”

  “No, unfortunately not.”

  They danced in silence for a moment. Ned managed to watch Beverly and Dr. Tune as they made their way out of the dining hall. Dr. Tune seemed to have recovered from turning her ankle. She’d been alright during her lecture too, but that hadn’t taken much walking. He watched until they were nearly out of sight, hoping Beverly would turn to look at him before she disappeared around the corner.

  At the last second, she turned around. Her gaze landed briefly on him before looking back at the table, as if checking that they hadn’t left anything behind—and then she was gone.

  She looked! Strange how good that made him feel. Yes, she was very attractive, but he’d just met her. And even if she did come to stay at Demander Castle for a while, it didn’t mean anything would come of it. Nothing could come of it. After all, he had an agenda to focus on. He didn’t have time to spend wondering about the beautiful, sophisticated Beverly Tune.

  Chapter 3

  “Beverly, wake up. You’re snoring.”

  Beverly’s eyes flew open. Where was she? Oh, that’s right. Castle trip. Washington.

  She smiled, and stretched like a cat, remembering more. She’d been having an interesting dream about living in a castle, but bandits broke in at night and tried to take her with them. A stranger in a dark cloak rode in from the forest, fought the bandits, and told her, “Now I’ve saved you. Let’s see how you can repay me.” When the light hit his face, it was Ned Sterling. He might be setting off her early aler
t system in real life, but in her dreams he made a sexy dark hero.

  It was morning outside, but the lights in her room suddenly flashed on and off. Aunt Affie stood by the switch in the doorway, scowling. “Come on, Beverly.” She sounded irritated. “You stayed up too late reading again. We’re going to miss breakfast, and I’m going to need your help gathering research.”

  Beverly moved the pillow and frowned. “Was I really snoring?”

  Aunt Affie’s face appeared very close to her own. “Get. Up.”

  Beverly got up, and thankfully her aunt left her alone to get ready. Her clothes were hanging in the armoire, so she opened it to decide what to wear today. One thing about traveling for nearly a month: she was getting really tired of recycling the same outfits every couple of days. Perhaps there would be time for a quick shopping trip in Seattle before heading to Demander Castle?

  Beverly sighed. It was daylight, time to let go of the dream. She shouldn’t let herself fantasize about Ned Sterling. The man in her dream wasn’t real. Sure, he was really good-looking, and yes, he was definitely flirting with her. But she was reading too much into it if she was still thinking about it. He was clearly just a flirt, a playboy, even. Making eyes at Beverly, his hands securely holding her as they danced—it couldn’t have meant anything to him. After all, the Trenforth manager, Natalia, had stepped right in and taken her place. Ned probably didn’t even notice the switch.

  Whatever. Another day here, three days at Demander Castle, and she got to go home to her bookshop. Going home was sounding better and better all the time.

  She sorted through her tiny wardrobe, swiping past one item and then the other as if she were angry with them. Really, she was angry with herself for being affected by this Ned. When she called Julie later to check on the bookshop, Julie would say just enjoy his attentions while they lasted. But that wasn’t Beverly. She wasn’t a girl for casual flirting.

  “Are you ready?” Aunt Affie called from the adjoining room.

  “Working on it,” Beverly called back. She’d have to think about him later. For now, she chose a nice pair of jeans, a white lace top, and a feminine black blazer. Nothing Aunt Affie would describe as hippie, but she still felt like herself in it. The formal black dress she’d brought for the trip made her feel like she was playing dress-up. And assuming Ned was telling the truth and he hadn’t been stalking her—