Tempted. Kimberly Van Meter
loud and clear.
Charming men were the first to bail when things got tough—or when they’d taken everything there was to take.
Poor Mom. In love with being in love. Eternally hopeful that the next guy was the one.
Harper would watch as men walked in and out of Anna’s life, leaving her with less and less.
If a man had bad credit, was nearly homeless, with a string of abandoned baby mamas, but could charm her with a seemingly devoted smile, Anna was all in.
But if Anna was continually blinded by love, Harper had become jaded by it.
Especially after Rex Harrington. Or whatever his name truly was.
Just the thought of Rex and what he’d done to her mother—and by proxy, her—made Harper want to throw something.
So, it didn’t matter that Teagan was the kind of man who took her breath away. His cute face and tight behind weren’t going to pay her bills.
Tonight was the dinner and dance mixer. She’d already arranged to be seated at Stuart’s table. No doubt she’d have to fend off her share of competition, but this wasn’t her first rodeo.
She pulled up Stuart’s picture. Not bad looking. Bald but not fat—that was a plus.
Her last target had been as jolly as Santa Claus in the waistband, but not quite as pleasant in his demeanor.
She tried not to remember the times when his slobbery kisses had nearly made her retch.
Ulysses Prawner had been the worst.
A millionaire, but barely so, he’d liked to spend his money on women and toys. Harper had helped him in his endeavors.
Only, Ulysses hadn’t known when to stop. His investments couldn’t keep up with his spending and before long he’d come to Harper with a sob story.
“Baby,” he’d implored as she’d packed her bags. “I’m just in a slump. Things will get better. They always do. Don’t go.”
Harper had already been casing the next target and was eager to move on. Actually, she’d been relieved to find a reason to bail. “Ulysses, let’s not make this uncomfortable. What we had has run its course.”
“But I love you, baby,” he’d cried, grasping for her hands.
She’d tried to find an ounce of compassion for the man, but the well had run dry.
Pulling her hands free, she’d cast him a look filled with pity and walked out the door.
Not empty-handed, of course.
Every gift, every bit of cash that flowed her way had gone into a secret account, as did all her investments.
Someday she’d have enough to be solvent on her own. No more chasing after wealthy old pricks, swallowing her dignity and pride to cater to their every whim.
Someday.
That’s why Stuart Buck was so important.
That old man was going to put a ring on her finger—without the protection of a prenup.
Then, when he died, all of his assets would go to Harper.
No more scouring the society pages, frequenting country clubs and pretending to be someone she wasn’t just to make a dollar.
No more stressing about how she was going to pay her mother’s care bill.
The woman was as dependent on Harper as a child was on its parent.
Irony at its finest.
Even as much as Harper was focused on the big picture, there were times when a forlorn sadness intruded on her thoughts.
She’d stopped feeling guilty a long time ago, but now and then, she wished she had the luxury of enjoying a normal relationship.
Thankfully, that kind of wistful thinking didn’t happen often, but seeing someone like Teagan was always good for a little melancholy.
The fact was, she didn’t want to rely on anyone but herself for her well-being. In this world, either you were on the bottom or the top. And she made sure she was never on the bottom.
Harper jerked a short breath in and refocused. “Stuart, you sweet, old man. You are never going to know what hit you.”
Harper slipped her phone back into her purse and disappeared into her bathroom to get ready.
The stage was set and the players ready.
Time for the performance.
TEAGAN SURVEYED THE resplendent lounge, with burgundy walls and gold filigree ornamentation spilling out over every surface, and wondered if he’d somehow stepped into a time warp.
Lounge acts always reminded him of cheesy pickup lines and boozed-out singers looking for some last-ditch effort to rekindle their dying career.
In other words, Teagan had never really considered a lounge a great place to meet people he wanted to hang with.
But as his gaze perused the room, he locked on to the one person who’d made this trip remotely interesting.
Harper.
Long dark hair curled in lazy waves down her open-back black dress, the short hem teasing the toned length of her legs perched on sassy heels. Everything about her was elegant and refined, yet pulsed with a raw sensuality that spoke his language.
For him, everyone else faded away, even the flock of men surrounding her, all vying for a smile from the beauty.
Harper knew the power she held over men. Teagan could see it in the way she played the coy and delicate lady for the decidedly older men salivating around her.
He continued to watch with interest, finding the scene telling.
Teagan knew women of all kinds.
Being a former flyboy, his education on women had taught him that they could rule the world if they wanted.
They held the power in their nimble fingers to twist men in pretzels, but only a small percentage actually knew how to wield that power with any kind of efficiency.
But watching Harper, it was easy to see that the woman knew exactly what she was doing.
Good sense told him to walk away.
Find a different lady to spend his week with—someone less complicated.
Less dangerous.
But he knew that wasn’t going to happen.
A slow burn of a smile spread on his lips. Harper was a challenge that fired him up in ways he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time.
But if he remembered the rules of this game correctly, a direct approach would end in failure.
Harper was all about strategy, cunning.
So he had to respond in kind.
Well, J.T. had wanted him to cut loose, have fun.
What better fun could there be than trying to catch a woman intent on running away?
Hell, it was a bad idea—practically reeking of disaster—but he was in.
All in.
Tonight’s event was a standard meet and greet, with a single-and-ready-to-mingle vibe. Polite laughter and the buzz of conversation floated around the room. There were plenty of fish in this fishbowl, that was for certain.
Once his buddy Kirk Addler had joked that Teagan ought to put himself on Tinder. Teagan hadn’t paid attention to the newest apps and whatnot that were out there, so he’d reluctantly checked it out, seeing as Kirk seemed keen on it.