Millionaire Playboys: Paying the Playboy's Price. Emilie Rose
syrup in a cabinet. “French toast?”
“That’ll work.” His steady regard unnerved her. She tried to block him out as she mixed the batter, dunked the bread and laid it in the frying pan. What was he looking for?
He refilled his coffee cup. “You’re not what I expected.”
Ka-boom. Her heart pounded. She jerked up her chin. “Wh-why’s that?”
“You dropped fifteen grand without batting an eyelash for lessons you could have bought for a fraction of that cost. I figured you had more money than sense.”
Ouch. Talk about making a bad first impression…. “And now?”
“I was wrong.”
The simple sentence filled her with an idiotic amount of pleasure. “Thank you.”
“But that doesn’t change the decision I made last night before Kelly showed up.”
Uh-oh. She didn’t like the sound of that. “Decision?”
“You need to take your lessons from someone else.”
The bottom dropped out of her stomach. “Why?”
“Because I’m not looking for a short-term affair and you are.”
Her lungs seized and mortification burned her face. “I never said that.”
His mouth tilted in a skeptical slant. “Are you telling me you want to marry me?”
What! “No.”
“But you’re not averse to sleeping with me.”
She gulped and focused intently on flipping the bread before meeting his gaze again. “What makes you think that?”
“Because you have a box of condoms in your purse.”
Horrified, Juliana spun back to the stove. She prodded the French toast with the spatula even though it didn’t need her immediate attention. “And how do you know that?”
“Because your purse was gaping open when I brought your clothes in this morning. The condoms were on top.”
If she’d ever been more embarrassed, she couldn’t recall the occasion, but she stood her ground. “You have quite an ego if you think they’re for you.”
Her snippy comment didn’t faze him. Probably because it didn’t come out in nearly as scathing a tone as she’d intended. How could it when he was right?
“That’s what I thought, too, until I realized you’re not the type of woman who picks up men.”
“Don’t be so sure,” she blustered.
“You’re an accountant.”
“So?”
“So you like things neat, and you like to be prepared. The CDs in your car are arranged alphabetically. You memorize instruction manuals that most people don’t even bother to read. You fasten your seat belt before putting the key in the ignition, and you check your mirrors three times before changing lanes. I’ll bet you don’t have a risk-taking bone in your body.”
Boy did he have her pegged, and that annoyed her immensely. “I bought you, didn’t I?”
“I’m guessing you researched my background before you did, because lady, you sure know a lot about me for someone who’s not a country music fan.”
Guilty as charged. If he’d noticed that her CDs were in alphabetical order then he’d probably also noticed she liked Broadway tunes. Little did he know she’d shoved his CDs under her seat before letting him into her car. “There’s nothing wrong with being prepared.”
“Never said there was. But the fact remains that what you want isn’t available. I can’t deny I need your help this week, but I’ll arrange for you to take the rest of your lessons elsewhere.”
She could concede to her embarrassment and his demands or she could stay the course she’d set. Last chance. Last chance echoed in her head. “Like you said, you owe me and I want my lessons from you. No substitutes.”
Anger flared in his eyes and he opened his mouth—to argue probably—but snapped it shut again when the youngest of the girls toddled into the kitchen. She wordlessly held up her arms. Rex set down his coffee mug and scooped her up. “Hey, sweet pea.”
The child popped a thumb in her mouth, laid her head on Rex’s shoulder and then twirled a strand of his hair around the fingers of her opposite hand. The absolute trust in the gesture and the gentle kiss he planted on the child’s crown brought a lump to Juliana’s throat.
“Liza, this is Juliana. She’s going to help me take care of you for a few days.”
A pair of dark eyes briefly met Juliana’s and then the child hid her face against Rex’s neck. The tiny fingers tangled in Rex’s hair wiggled in a wave and Juliana’s heart melted. “Hi, Liza.”
Juliana caught another peep from those shy eyes and smiled as she transferred the French toast onto plates. Kelly had told her Liza was three, Becky five and both girls adored their uncle. To hear Kelly talk last night, you’d think Rex was a big softie, but that wasn’t the man Juliana had encountered.
“The girls must spend a lot of time with you.”
He shrugged. “I try to help out when Mike’s deployed.”
An older girl bounced into the room and vaulted toward Rex. He caught her in his free arm so easily it was clear this was a common occurrence, and then he juggled a giggly girl on each hip. His smile nearly knocked Juliana’s legs out from under her.
Seeing the obvious affection between Rex and his nieces turned her thoughts in a decidedly untemporary direction. She quickly squelched the unwelcome feelings. She’d never been one to listen for the ticking of her biological clock, and she didn’t intend to start now. One month with the rebel was all she’d allow herself.
“This is Becky. Becky, Juliana is going to help out while Mom’s away. You’re going to spend the day at Juliana’s house with her nanny.”
“Hello, Becky.”
The older girl studied Juliana suspiciously and then asked Rex, “Why? Why can’t we stay here with you?”
“Because I have to work.”
She might not have much experience with children, but Juliana could see the protests forming on that pouty lip and decided to head them off. “My town house has a pool and a playground, and Irma, the lady who took care of me when I was your age, is very excited about having young ladies to help her bake cookies.”
Either the pool or the cookies did the trick. Both girls’ eyes brightened. If only their uncle was as easy to bring around. Juliana stifled a sigh.
She had a plan and she would stick to it regardless of this slight detour. Despite Rex’s avowed disinterest in a relationship, his kiss said otherwise, so her plan still had a chance. No one loved a tough case as much as she did, and she wasn’t ready to throw in the towel yet.
She faced her reluctant seducer. “I need a key to your apartment.”
And that, judging by Rex’s balky expression, was the last thing he wanted to give her.
Rex’s life was spinning out of control—much like it had when he’d signed his first record deal, and others, his manager, his agent and the record company execs, had seized the wheel and started steering his life. He’d fought a long, hard battle to regain control, and he didn’t like being knocked off track now.
Last night he’d been shanghaied by Kelly and Juliana. Today, Irma, as grandmotherly a woman as he’d ever met,