Millionaire Playboys: Paying the Playboy's Price. Emilie Rose
room and wonder what in the hell he’d gotten into. Not that he’d had a choice. He wouldn’t let Kelly down again.
Who was the real Juliana? The flirty siren who’d bought him at the auction, the innocent seductress who’d ridden his horse, the bold and sexy biker chick or the cautious woman who planned every detail and triple-checked everything? There were too many contradictions to count—contradictions that kept him off balance. He couldn’t plan a defense if he didn’t know his opponent.
Her living and dining rooms looked like something out of a magazine. Not fussy or cluttered, but decorated and comfortable. A soft toast-colored fabric covered the long sofa and matching chairs. The oversize furniture was the kind he could sink into and take a nap—which he sorely needed after tossing and turning on his shorter couch last night. A man could prop his boots on her wood-and-wrought-iron tables without worrying about scuffing the surface. The best part was that, other than a few colorful ceramic pieces on high shelves, Juliana didn’t have valuable knickknacks all over the place that the girls could break.
A noise made him turn. He looked up and saw legs—amazing, long, sexy legs—coming down the stairs. And then the rest of Juliana came into view. In her gray body-skimming suit, twisted-up hair and low-heeled shoes, she bore little resemblance to any of the versions of Juliana he’d encountered thus far. This woman looked like a bank employee. Cool. Collected. In charge. The tap of her heels on the hardwood floor as she crossed to a cabinet drew his attention back to her killer legs.
Damned if he didn’t find her sexy in a librarian kind of way. Not good. Not good at all.
She opened a drawer, withdrew something and then turned to face him. “Here’s a key to my house.”
Whoa. He backed up a step. Other than Kelly, he’d never given a woman keys to his place or even his truck. “Look, Juliana, I gave you my spare keys this morning because you and the girls need access to my apartment, but—”
“Yes, and it was clearly very painful for you,” she said with a dose of sarcasm.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t need a key to your house.”
“You will if you arrive before Irma in the mornings.”
“I won’t. I’ll make sure of it. But if I do, you can let me in.”
She shook her head and the tiny diamonds in her earlobes sparkled, drawing his attention to her delicate ears and the slender column of her neck above the collarless suit.
“That isn’t practical. You live closer to the bank, so it makes more sense for me to go straight to work from Renegade. The earlier I can get to work, the sooner I can leave to be with the girls. Irma’s thrilled to have them, but she’s seventy, and she’s worried that her stamina may not last a full day.”
The skin between his shoulder blades prickled. No way out. Going into a woman’s house without her…He suppressed a shudder. Swapping keys was way too intimate and smelled like a commitment. Commitments led to disappointments, and he’d already handed out more than his share of those. He wanted to unload Juliana and the unwelcome attraction for her, not add another loop to the rope temporarily binding them together.
Juliana reached out, grabbed his hand and pressed the key into his palm. She closed his fingers around the cool metal and squeezed. Her hands, wrapped securely around his, ignited desires he could not—would not—satisfy.
“Rex, it’s a key ring not an engagement ring. There are no strings or expectations attached. Quit being such a guy and take it.” She made being male sound like an insult. “I have to go. I’m running late.”
But several seconds ticked past before her fingers loosened and her hands fell away. From the rapid flutter of her pulse at the base of her neck, he guessed he wasn’t the only one feeling the heat generated by their exchange.
He cleared his throat. “I’ll drop Becky and Liza off about 9:30 or 10:00 each morning.”
She nodded. “I should be back by 6:00 at the latest. The girls and I will find you so you can tell them good night before I take them upstairs. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. Irma makes great coffee.”
This was so much like playing house, it gave him the willies. Knowing his past and his weakness, thinking about building a domestic relationship with someone was a luxury he couldn’t afford. He backed up. “Right. See ya tonight.”
And then he bolted for the kitchen like a damned coward. Running from what he couldn’t have.
Wally Wilson was perfect for her on so many levels. So why couldn’t Juliana be happy with him and forget this last chance nonsense?
She looked across the table at her companion. Handsome in an understated, preppy way, Wally was blond, blue-eyed and reasonably fit. He kept his skin evenly tanned with weekly visits to the tanning salon. Every hair stayed in place thanks to his skilled barber, and wrinkles didn’t dare crease his suit.
No, women wouldn’t get whiplash or have hormone surges when he walked through a room, but he was stable, responsible and unfailingly polite. He liked order and so did she. In fact, they had so much in common. Background, business, ambition…
As detail-oriented as Wally appeared to be about everything else in his life, he would probably be a conscientious lover. According to her friends, Juliana owed it to herself to find out before marrying him, but the idea didn’t fill her with anticipation. Then again, she hated emotional displays. Life with Wally would be smooth sailing. No highs. No lows.
No fun?
She ignored that pesky inner voice and smiled at Wally. “Thank you for agreeing to switch our date from dinner to lunch on such short notice, Wally.”
“I’m always happy to accommodate your schedule, Juliana. What did you say came up?”
She hadn’t said and she didn’t understand her hesitation in revealing the situation now, but if she was seriously considering marrying him, then they shouldn’t have secrets between them. “I’m babysitting this evening.”
His brows lifted. “Babysitting? Have you ever babysat before?”
“Um…no. But the girls are three and five. I’m sure they can tell me if I do something wrong.”
“I thought it might have something to do with your bachelor.”
Her chicken salad lodged halfway down her esophagus. She sipped her water. “It does indirectly. Rex—my bachelor—Rex’s sister had to fly out of the country unexpectedly. Her husband’s in the military, and he’s been critically injured. She needed to be with him. Rex and I are watching their children.”
“Couldn’t she hire someone to do that?”
“Irma’s helping.”
“Ah, yes. Irma. I’d forgotten you still keep in touch with your nanny.” He flashed a tolerant smile, displaying perfectly aligned teeth. Why did she get the impression he didn’t really approve of her continued friendship with the woman who’d raised her while Margaret Alden had fought her way up the career ladder?
“Irma and I have lunch together at least once a month. I’ve been increasingly concerned about her lately. Retirement isn’t working out.” He nodded, but she had the impression he really didn’t care about Irma. Juliana pleated her napkin in her lap. “Wally, my mother seems to think you expected me to buy you at the auction.”
“Given the understanding between our families, I thought you might,” he said in an expressionless tone. Come to think of it, Wally usually spoke without much inflection. His soothing voice would be an asset in dealing with upset customers.
“The understanding was that we’d date to see if we suited.”
“Don’t we?”
She concealed a wince. “I don’t know yet, Wally, but please tell Donna I appreciate her stepping in. Although I confess I was a little surprised