The Millionaire's Christmas Wife. Susan Crosby
to Max Beauregard’s advice.”
She’d already figured out he was incredibly bright. “How long ago did you build your house?”
“Two years. After my divorce.” He stood and took their plates to the kitchen, then ran water over them in the sink.
She didn’t ask if she could help, just pitched in, and he didn’t refuse.
“Sore subject?” she asked.
“What? The divorce? No. It laid me low at the time, but after the fact I realized I’d married her for the wrong reasons. She admitted the same. At least I’d been smart enough to protect my inheritance with a prenup. I’ve always lived on what I made. When I was first on my own, I got myself into a couple of ventures that were disastrous. I even got Noah and David involved. They said they weren’t going to risk it anymore. It forced me to figure out what to do. And as soon as I got my adventure business running, it paid off. Marriage seemed like the next logical step.”
Denise appreciated his openness, particularly admitting to his failures. She never liked anyone to know about hers.
She found dish soap and started filling the sink with hot water, not seeing a dishwasher anywhere. “No children?”
“No.” He reached around her to drop some dishes into the filling sink, his chest brushing her back, triggering little explosions all through her.
She liked the sensation, way too much. If they were going to work together she should avoid contact with him now that she knew how much and how easily he affected her, but she hadn’t felt like this for a long time, if ever. She didn’t mind experimenting to see how far they could go.
She just needed to keep her heart intact, her life on schedule.
“When did you tell the Bakers you’re married?” she asked.
“A month ago.”
“What have you told them about me?”
“That you’re beautiful and brilliant. Obviously, I was psychic,” he said, smiling. “I don’t remember everything I said, exactly. Joanne asked a lot of questions. That woman believes more in marriage than anyone I’ve met.”
“Do we want children?” she asked.
He grabbed a dishtowel and a rinsed plate, his hip resting against the countertop. “Absolutely. As soon as possible. I’m thirty-two, after all, and you’re—I don’t even know.”
“Twenty-nine.” She wondered if what he’d told the Bakers was the truth or a story. “So, I’m not on the pill, after all?”
He met her gaze directly. “No pill. No condoms. Nothing.”
“Hmm. Am I giving up my business in Sacramento? Did you tell them your wife works?”
“I’m pretty sure I avoided the topic. As for our story today, we should probably say we haven’t decided yet. That you may get someone to run it.”
“Which means I’m scrapping my plans to open At Your Service franchises around the country, I guess.”
He whistled. “Is that your goal?You don’t think small.”
“Nope.” She wanted to create her own empire.
“Have you given yourself a time frame?” Gideon asked.
“I have a schedule.”
“Of course you do.”
She smiled. “San Francisco next year.”
“Will you move there?”
“Temporarily. It’s a good place for me to branch out, because I’ve already made inroads there. Los Angeles after that, probably.” She rinsed the last pan and passed it to Gideon, then wiped down the counter as he finished putting things away.
“And the real Gideon? Do you want children?”
“Definitely. I need a few years’ cushion to get the business going. How about you?”
“Also definitely. Just not yet. Not in the schedule.”
“Exactly. Mine, either.”
“So. I’d like to see your scale model,” she said, deciding to change the subject, which had gotten too personal.
“It’s in my office.”
They walked past a large bathroom on the left and an even larger bedroom on the right. She caught a glimpse of masculine decor, including a huge pine bed covered with a green-and-black quilt. At the back of the house was a room that stretched across the whole width. An office took up one side, exercise equipment the other. One wall was bookcases, filled top to bottom. The view through the large windows went on forever, the lake a shimmering gem, the forest beyond thick and luxuriant.
“Welcome to my library and gym,” he said, his eyes sparkling. “All the necessary amenities.”
“So I see. I’m surprised you don’t have a dog. You seem like a dog person.”
“I’m gone too much. It’s in my plans, though.”
“A teacup poodle, I suppose.”
“Fifi. You got me all figured out.”
She wandered to a large table on which sat his scale model. She took her time studying it. He waited silently, letting her review it on her own. “You built this model, too?” she asked.
“Yep.”
“How long have you been working on the project?”
“A year on this site specifically. It took some time to get environmental impact studies done and to analyze the economics of other sites similar to this. I’ve seen plenty of family resorts around the country and a few in Europe. I took the best of what I saw, then created what I consider is the perfect environment. But technically I’ve been studying this business for nine years. I believe I know what will work and what won’t. Except that I’m not an expert in hotel design like you, obviously,” he added.
“I don’t know that I’m an expert, either, but I know what I like, what I’ve always thought I would build if I had the chance. I got my bachelor’s degree in hotel management, but I started working in the Watson Hotels Los Angeles when I was fourteen. I was like a sponge.”
“Why aren’t you working for your father?”
“Long story.” She turned back to the model and traced a trail with her finger from top to bottom.
“Sore subject?” he asked, putting a hand on her back.
She wanted to turn into him and lay her head on his shoulder. Be held. Even after seven years the wound was raw. “Yeah. But dead and buried.”
“I don’t think so. Looks like we both have father issues. Do you see your dad?”
“We’re not estranged, but we’re not close.” She’d dogged his footsteps her whole childhood, adoring him, putting him on a sky-high pedestal, then he’d crushed her. Denise took a few steps away from the temptation of confiding in and accepting comfort from Gideon. “I’m ready to see the site in person, if you are. We can talk business as we go.”
“There’s an issue we need to address before we head out,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“The attraction between us.”
Just the thought kick-started her heart into a powerful rhythm. “You have ideas?” she asked.
He moved a little closer. “As much as I’d like to say we should ignore it and see if it goes away, I’m more realistic than that. We have to pretend we’re married. That alone will require that we look comfortable together, that we seem intimate. It’s easy to recognize people who are lovers, because they move into each other’s space easily.”