The Millionaire's Christmas Wife. Susan Crosby
He moved within touching range.
She stood her ground. “In public.”
He didn’t speak, but he picked up her left hand and kissed her palm, his thumb pressing into the ring.
“Have you always been a romantic?” she asked.
“Yes.” He kept her hand in his.
“You’re a rarity.”
“Am I?”
“Everyone is so straightforward these days. And self-focused. Dates are more like negotiations.”
“You haven’t met the right men, I think.” He pulled her into his arms and started dancing with her without music. “We fit. That can’t be ignored. I noticed it right away.”
“You didn’t call me this whole month.” She hadn’t meant to say that, as if she’d been waiting by the phone for his call. She’d actually stopped doing that after two weeks…
“Not because I didn’t want to see you, Mrs. Falcon.”
She wondered when—or if—she would stop reacting to him calling her that. “That makes no sense.”
“This project has consumed me and will continue to if I manage to find a partner. You wouldn’t like my lack of attention. It would kill any hope of a relationship.”
“You see me as high maintenance?”
He stopped dancing but didn’t let her go. “I see you as a beautiful woman who deserves someone’s complete attention.”
“I’m busy, too. Maybe I would be happy taking what I could get.”
He ran his fingers across her lips until she parted them, then he kissed her. “If that’s true,” he said, brushing his lips back and forth against hers, “you’ve got the chance now to test your theory.”
He settled his mouth on hers, wrapped his arms around her. She couldn’t stop a needy moan from escaping, which made him deepen the kiss even more. He slipped his tongue inside her mouth and moved his hands to her waist, sliding up her rib cage, his thumbs resting just under breasts. She moved against him, pressing her hips flush with his, enjoying his powerful body, the feel of his broad hands, the taste and heat of his mouth. She went up on tiptoe, wrapping her arms around his neck, wanting more. Now.
He nipped at her mouth then pulled away. “I’ll bet you’re very demanding in bed,” he said when she finally opened her eyes. He looked as aroused as she, as needy as she.
“Are you up to it?” she asked.
“What do you think?”
“My assistant decided you’d be a good kisser.”
“And what’s your opinion?”
“That you exceeded expectation.” She didn’t know why she was being so honest with him. Maybe she shouldn’t flatter him, shouldn’t let him know how much he turned her on. She’d just slipped into the role of his wife—his adoring wife—as if born to it.
“Same with you.” He moved back a little more. “It complicates things. I knew it would.”
“Honesty works for me, Gideon. I can handle anything but silence. I hate silence. Tell me the truth, whatever it is. Don’t ever make me guess.”
“Deal. Shall we get on the road?”
She put a hand on his arm. “Maybe we should talk about what I want out of this arrangement, in case you want to change your mind.”
“Okay.”
“I want credit,” she said. “And a piece of the action if I’m the one to find you a partner.”
He stared at her for a good long time. She’d made her decision. Nothing he said would sway her. She could be a part of his success, if he let her. She didn’t know how much give he had, or even if he would compromise. He might accept her input on the hotel, but on anything else? She didn’t know yet.
“You’ve got about an hour in the car to convince me,” he said, then gestured toward the door. “After you, Mrs. Falcon.”
She took that as a hopeful sign.
Chapter Four
Denise counted cars in the parking lot when they pulled into The Trails. Two massive snowstorms had hit the area since Thanksgiving, creating a solid base, making for good cross-country skiing, yet the parking lot was about half full, maybe a hundred cars.
“Is this the usual number for a Saturday?” she asked, unbuckling her seat belt.
“I don’t know. The season just started. The last time I was here, the cattle were being trucked out.”
“If this is it, I can see why they’ve only eked out a living all these years. How much do they advertise?”
“Not much. Mostly they depend on repeat customers. The Bakers are good people but not great businesspeople. They wanted to raise their children here, and they needed a business to sustain them enough to do that. I think they would tell you they have no regrets.”
“You haven’t said if you have competition.”
“They’ve let it be known they’re interested in selling, but I don’t know specifically if there are others. I would assume so, although it can’t be easy finding someone to meet their requirements who can also afford to buy.”
“Why the Christmas Eve deadline?”
“I asked that. Ed and Joanne just smiled at each other. I’m assuming it’s sentimental.”
She eyed him. He was dressed much like he had been when he’d come to her office the day before. She figured he knew a suit and tie wouldn’t be helpful dealing with this couple. She’d also dressed appropriately, including snow boots. “You really are a risk taker, even to the point of risking all the capital you’ve grown and protected all these years.”
“Not getting any younger.” His grin seemed a little reckless to her, a little dangerous. He was a fascinating combination of the kind of men she’d dated when she was known as Deni and those she dated now, but she found herself drawn more to the edgier side of him. He wouldn’t back down from anything that mattered to him. She liked that. A lot.
“Didn’t you take chances starting your business?” he asked. “It’s an unavoidable part of success. Some people have the nerve for it and some don’t.”
“I hadn’t looked at it that way.” She glanced out the windshield and saw a woman climb the steps to a building at the far end of the parking lot. “Are the Bakers expecting us?”
“They’re expecting me.” He pointed ahead. “There’s Mrs. Baker on the porch. Joanne. She’s sixty-eight. Ed’s a year older. They’re both fit and sociable, and look about ten years younger.”
“Anything else? I’m sure, as your wife, they would expect me to know more about them than that.”
“I can’t—Oh, they celebrated their fiftieth anniversary recently. They have two daughters.”
Gideon opened his door. “Ready?”
Denise climbed out. She grabbed the paperwork while he brought the scale model. She was nervous, she realized, feeling it in her chest. She’d been exposed to so many unusual situations while growing up that she rarely felt nervous or uncomfortable in any setting. But she didn’t want to mess this up for Gideon—or herself. Too much was at stake. For him and for her. She had something to prove, too. She’d successfully built a business, but to also help build a hotel? Yes, she wanted that. Passionately.
“What will happen to your adventure business if you take this on?” she asked.
“I’ll