Misbehaving with the Millionaire: The Millionaire's Misbehaving Mistress. Kimberly Lang
might be relief and she sagged back against the arm of the sofa before she caught herself and straightened back up. “Interesting is one way to put it.”
“Go ahead and relax. You’ve earned it.” She had. Evie’s outburst aside, the evening had been a success, and he owed that to Gwen. “We’ll let Miss Behavior take the rest of the night off, and we’ll talk about something else.”
Relax? He had to be kidding. She’d just experienced one of the strangest dinners of her career—make that her life—and he expected her to relax? The Harrisons were going to drive her insane.
She hadn’t lied when she said she’d been expecting Evie’s outburst, but when she’d snapped there at the table, Gwen thought her heart would stop beating. When Evie pointed out Mr. Heatherton’s fork problems, she’d had a clear vision of her career going up in a puff of smoke. Again. And this time, it wouldn’t even be her fault.
But both Marcus and Will seemed to have taken it all in good humor, and while it was a relief, it wasn’t doing much for her nerves. And sitting this close to him on the sofa wasn’t helping her composure, either. The easy smile caused adorable crinkles around his eyes and brought that devastating dimple out to play hell with her equilibrium. The deep breath she took to try to calm herself backfired when the spicy scent of his aftershave coiled through her and tied her stomach in an aroused knot.
Now he wanted her to have a drink and talk about something other than Evie and etiquette. What did that leave? HarCorp? She doubted he’d believe an interest in the actual business, and there wasn’t exactly a casual way to broach the topic of her corporate workshops. No, her career had already teetered on the edge once this evening. There was no sense flirting with disaster again by bringing up that. The weather? Politics? Every topic of small talk fled her head as Will shifted to a more comfortable position and treated her to a full-out, heart-stopping smile.
“Are you sure I can’t get you a drink? Wine?”
Was Will flirting with her? A drink? On the balcony? Small talk? Her stomach fluttered at the thrill before common sense stamped it down. She worked for him, and she wouldn’t believe for a second he flirted with his employees. Of course, this wasn’t a normal employment situation, what with her moving in and all. Maybe…
Oh, no, she was doing it again. How stupid could one person be? She’d been down this path before, and it had ended in disaster, heartbreak, professional disgrace… None of which she planned on repeating. Sarah’s little fantasy must have tripped some switch in her brain, turning her back into a complete idiot who let her libido lead her. She needed to put this evening back on its professional feet, and she racked her brain for an appropriate, neutral topic.
Will was saying something, but her heart thudded in her ears, drowning out his words as he leaned toward her. The couch seemed to shrink, moving him closer to her, and the temperature in the room rose several degrees. How’d she end up so close to him? So close she could see his eyes darken?
Her heartbeat accelerated. Rational thoughts clamored to be heard, but were easily brushed aside as those hazel eyes swept over her, affecting her senses as strongly as a caress.
When his hand reached out to gently brush her arm, she felt the hairs rise from the electricity before he even touched her.
“Gwen?”
The question was a whisper, his lips just inches from hers, and instead of answering, she let her eyes slide closed in response.
“Will? Gwen? Where are you guys?”
Evie’s voice snapped them apart and sent them to opposite ends of the sofa moments before her head peered around the corner.
Damn, damn, double damn. Her heart was racing—from desire or adrenaline, she didn’t know. While her hormones protested at the interruption, the logical, rational part of her brain kicked back in and sent up a word of thanks at Evie’s perfect timing.
Evie looked confused. “Did I interrupt something?”
Only my latest attempt at career suicide.
Will coughed and dragged a hand through his hair. Gwen gave herself a strong mental shake and plastered a serene smile on her face. “Of course not.”
“I came to apologize. For losing my temper, I mean. I hope I didn’t ruin dinner for everyone.” After a small pause, she added, “Is Uncle Marcus mad?”
Gwen decided to leave this opening to Will. He was the “parent” in this situation, after all, and she was just the hired help. Remember that, Gwennie.
“No one’s mad at you. We were just a bit shocked. You will need to guard that temper of yours in the future, though. It might not fly well in the dining room of the Club.”
Gwen simply nodded her agreement.
“But, Will, you know I’m right. You shouldn’t have your BlackBerry at the table. If I have to behave, so do you.”
Gwen cleared her throat, desperate for the chance to escape. “Um, I find that I’m really exhausted all of a sudden, and since Evie and I have a big day tomorrow, I’m going to head on to bed.” She wanted to be out of there before Evie left; there was no way she was ready to deal with what almost happened. She then rushed for the safety of her bedroom before either Harrison could say anything.
That had been close. Too close.
CHAPTER FIVE
TAKING Evie shopping had seemed like such a good idea at the time. She’d even enjoyed the morning’s activities—haircuts, manicures, pedicures, lunch in the Neiman Marcus restaurant. Evie’s need for female companionship and her obvious enjoyment of such a girly day out kept a smile on Gwen’s face.
But that almost-but-not-quite moment of the night before kept haunting her. She might have had more Will-free thoughts if Evie could go longer than ten minutes without mentioning him. Or if Evie didn’t share so many mannerisms with Will that a tilt of her head or a certain phrase didn’t make her think of him.
It was bad enough she’d spent hours staring at the ceiling last night replaying each and every second of her entire short history with Will in her head, trying to figure out when her professional working relationship with the man had veered wildly off-track. Spending the morning trying not to moon over the man while still spending time with his sister…well, that was a new exercise in personal torture.
And the torture wasn’t over yet. The instant connection between her young charge and her sister should have clued her in. Their kindred shopping spirits recognized each other instantly, and Gwen resigned herself to a very long afternoon.
Sarah had commandeered a private room normally reserved by the personal shoppers to Dallas’s elite. Using the information Gwen e-mailed the day before, Sarah created a personal store for Evie where everything was exactly the right color, size and fit for her body type. Entire outfits, complete with shoes and accessories, hung on rolling racks lining the walls.
Evie started out hesitantly, seeming unsure of style and overwhelmed by the choices. It didn’t take long, though, for her inner fashionista to emerge, and soon she sorted through the racks like a pro. Haute couture welcomed her with open arms, and Evie was still going strong three hours later.
She’d even worn out Sarah, who Gwen thought never tired of shopping.
Safely ensconced on an out-of-the-way couch, she kept half an eye on Evie’s “yes” pile to be sure nothing violated the brief list of fashion taboos provided by Marcus and Will and spent the time brooding. Unfortunately she couldn’t find any answers or reasonable explanations for her behavior.
Sarah eventually turned Evie over to one of the Personal Shoppers with the excuse that Evie would need one in the future anyway, and tiptoed carefully through the colorful mess to Gwen’s sofa.
“The child can shop.” Sarah slid her feet out of their purple slingbacks and wiggled her toes in relief.
Gwen laughed. “That