Misbehaving With The Millionaire

Oh. So it was business he was here for, not pleasure. She tamped down the niggles of disappointment as she tugged on her belt, tightening it, and adjusted the collar of her robe. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine. I just thought you should know Evie went to bed forty-five minutes ago. She has an early tennis lesson tomorrow.” Will’s hand toyed with the collar of her robe while he spoke. She wished she’d thought to bring a nicer one. This one had been with her since college. Yes, it was comfortable, but it fit like a comfy potato sack and the collar he toyed with was frayed at the edges. Not exactly the evening attire she wanted to be caught wearing by Will. The embroidered cats frolicking along the cuffs and collar didn’t help the look, either.

Slightly confused and embarrassed, she prompted him. “And…?”

“And this.” His hand closed around one of the frayed kitties on her collar and pulled her close until she pressed against his chest. Then his mouth closed on hers in a searing kiss.

That kiss brought every erotic sensation from last night back to the surface in amazing, gasping detail, showing her how faulty her powers of recollection really were.

In one swift movement, Will had them fully inside her room, and her back was against the door as Will loosened the sash and her robe fell open. She heard Will murmur his appreciation at finding nothing underneath, his words muffled against her skin as he sank to his knees, kissing a path down her torso as he went.

Gwen’s knees buckled, her fingers first grasping his shoulders for support as Will tasted her, then scoring him with her nails as his tongue quickly sent her over the edge.

Holding her steady as the ripples ran through her, Will stood and kissed her deeply. Behind her, she heard the lock click into place.

“Now come to bed.”

Gwen woke the next morning in a very good mood, but no one was around to share it. Evie had gone to her tennis lesson earlier, Will always left for work around seven-thirty and Mrs. Gray was walking out the door with a pile of what looked like dry cleaning under her arm just as Gwen emerged from her room.

“Good morning, Miss Gwen. I’ve left you some coffee and rolls in the kitchen. I’m off to get more groceries—Miss Evie seems to have cleaned out the cupboards over the weekend. Can I get you anything? Do you need anything while I’m out?”

“No, but thanks.” She did need a couple of things, but Gwen couldn’t get used to the idea of Mrs. Gray doing it for her. Not that she should. Unless Letitia could be trained to shop, she’d be doing for herself again anyway in another ten days. This afternoon, while Evie was with her tutors, she’d run her own errands.

The morning edition of the Tribune sat on the marble countertop next to the coffeepot, along with the Monday edition of Dallas Lifestyles. Normally she’d take the time to flip through both over coffee, but she’d slept so late she really needed to get some work accomplished first.

Gwen poured herself a cup of the fragrant coffee blend Will preferred, grabbed a still-warm cinnamon roll and went back to her room to get dressed.

The coffee cleared her brain of residual sleepiness, and by the time she pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, she was fully awake. She caught herself humming as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail. Her amazingly good mood this morning had to be a residual effect of last night.

Ahh, last night. Her skin warmed as images flashed through her mind. She tried to focus on something else as she turned off the bathroom light—she had to or else she wouldn’t get any work done today.

Her laptop sat on a small desk in the corner of the room, ready for her to log on and become Miss Behavior. A white envelope sat on top of it.

Her name was scrawled across it in a bold, male handwriting she had to assume was Will’s. A small, fuzzy feeling settled in her stomach at the thought of Will leaving her a note.

She slid her finger under the flap, but instead of a letter, she found a check. A check made payable to her for an ob noxious sum of money.

The fuzzy feeling died and she sat with an unladylike thud.

Rationally her brain knew the check was payment for Evie’s training. She had a contract with Will for her services, and here was payment in full. They had a business arrangement, after all.

Emotionally, though, she felt she’d been kicked in the stomach. Leaving a check in her bedroom after the weekend—hell, after the night they’d just shared—made her feel cheap. Like Will was paying for a completely different type of service.

Ugh. I guess I should be glad he didn’t leave it on the nightstand.

The rational part of her brain tried again. He had to leave it somewhere. Why mail it to your P.O. Box when you’re living right here? He’s not paying you for sex. Remember, he said business and pleasure were two totally separate things. Get it together, go to the bank, and deposit it so you can pay bills this month.

She still felt a little sick, even with the “let’s be rational” pep talk. She slid the check into her purse and sighed. This was yet another reason she shouldn’t have gotten involved with Will.

Gwen refilled her coffee cup in the kitchen, then turned her cell phone back on. She really should return Sarah’s calls before Sarah sent the police over to check on her.

She flipped open the phone and her jaw dropped in shock. Twenty-two missed calls? Twelve new voice mail messages? Eight text messages? Good God, did someone die? She started scrolling through the missed calls log, noting most of them had come in within the last couple of hours, and nearly dropped the phone when it rang in her hand.

“Hey, Sar—”

“Why haven’t you been answering the phone? Are you okay?” Sarah’s rapid-fire pace didn’t leave her time to answer any of the questions. “I tried to call yesterday, and then after I saw Lifestyles—”

“Slow down. What are you talking about? I turned—I mean, my battery died yesterday, so I’m just now checking my phone.”

“So you haven’t seen Dallas Lifestyles today?” Sarah’s tone made her heart drop.

“No. Why?”

“Page three, Gwennie. You made page three.”

Oh, no. Gwen sprinted to the kitchen and grabbed the glossy magazine. Page three was Tish Cotter-Hulmes’s page. Every Monday and Thursday Tish dished the hottest gossip and reported all the rumors on page three. No one wanted to make page three. Ever. Nothing good ever came of being on page three.

The headline stopped her heart. Is Miss Behavior Misbehaving With Dallas’s Most Eligible?

“I’ll call you back.” She closed the phone on Sarah’s sputtering and scanned the page. Oh, dear God.

Rumor has it that our own Miss Behavior may be vying for a new title. Sources tell me Gwen Sawyer moved in to Will Harrison’s penthouse just last week, and there’s no way she’s only housesitting. In fact, Gwen and Will were spotted (along with Will’s sister, the newly arrived and very elusive Evangeline) dining at Milano’s on the West End and sharing popcorn at a movie afterward. Gwen and Evangeline were also spied having a very girly day of shopping and coiffing Friday, so I’m thinking there’s definitely something going on. We all know how big a step shopping is. Personally, I’m intrigued. How did Gwen and Will cross paths and when? How have they managed to keep a low profile long enough for things to progress this far? Could Will be not-so-eligible any longer? Or is our Miss Behavior just flavor of the month? Anyone who can shed some light on the beginnings of this affaire de coeur needs to call me, quick!

In related news, the reports from Neiman Marcus say Evangeline spent a small fortune in a few hours with a personal shopper while Gwen supervised. Could this mean we’re finally going to meet the Harrison heiress soon?

Several more paragraphs followed, each one more speculative than the last, all of them managing to put the worst possible spin on the slim details. Damn Tish! Gwen’s fingers itched to wring Tish’s scrawny, BOTOX-enhanced neck. Suddenly, the rash of missed phone calls made sense.

The anger receded as a chill settled over her. Not again.

Flavor of the Month? Her reputation could handle mild speculation about a possible romance, but to paint her as just another fling in a long line of flings? Especially one who had moved in? Once again, she was on the short end of the stick—Will’s reputation was fine, while hers was tarnishing rapidly.

Romance or fling, one fact didn’t change: the conservative elite of Dallas society wouldn’t smile kindly on Gwen living with a man she wasn’t married to. It didn’t matter that it was the twenty-first century. As a debutante trainer, her moral compass needed to gravitate toward the 1950s—at least as far as her clients were concerned. It was unfair, yes, but a fact she’d come to accept as just part of the territory.

And Will would be livid. While his business—both personal and professional—ended up in the papers more often than not, she’d realized over the past week how much he tried to avoid the limelight whenever possible. In the past, Tish had limited herself to merely reporting Will’s social life, but this time, she had moved to speculation and innuendo.

This was bad. At least Tish kept the speculation about Evie to a minimum. It was one tiny point in Tish’s favor. Still, though, this was bad.

Tish better hope she didn’t need any favors from Gwen anytime soon. Old Money was a small and closed society, but then so was the world of those who made careers on the fringes of that society.

Damn, damn, damn! Sarah had been right from the beginning. She should have thought this through more thoroughly before she signed on. Now she was hip-deep in trouble. She paced the kitchen, berating herself and feeling like the world’s biggest idiot.

Calm down. It could be worse. Right now, it was just speculation and gossip. There was no proof she and Will were any kind of item—fling or otherwise. No one, not even Sarah, knew their business relationship had crossed a line. Well, Evie might suspect something… It was only her own conscience reading damnation into Tish’s column.

The one-two punch of Will’s check and Tish’s column made her want to crawl back into bed and start the day over again.

But she couldn’t. She’d had five years to think about what she should have done when David hung her out to dry, and slinking away in disgrace had been the worst possible choice. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. It was damage control time. Gwen shuddered to think what waited in her voice and e-mail boxes. And the messages on her business line at home…

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Neiman Marcus and the West End were both public places. Anyone could have seen them and tattled to Tish. Plenty of people had to have seen her coming and going from Will’s building. Everything could be explained away easily—provided she could figure out how to explain without violating her nondisclosure agreement.

She’d have to call Will. Something she didn’t look forward to.

Will didn’t want to expose Evie to the possible embarrassment the implication having a personal etiquette tutor could bring. So how was she going to explain living here and taking Evie shopping? She needed to have some rationale or everyone would accept the most obvious explanation for their current living arrangement. And that was the absolute last thing she needed.

She’d call Sarah back and see which way the wind was blowing. Then, she’d check her messages and judge how bad the damage was.

She wasn’t going down without a fight this time.

“We’ll need to arrange a dinner for after the meeting. Something regional would be nice.” Nancy, fully recovered from whatever kept her out of the office on Friday, was back and trying to get him to commit on several projects—including final arrangements on his meeting with Kiesuke Hiramine. And though he knew he should be far more involved in this conversation, he found himself oddly uninterested. Too many other things on his mind. Like the memory of leaving Gwen in a tangled heap of sheets early that morning. Like the knowing look Evie wore at breakfast. Exactly what Evie thought she knew was a question mark, though.

“Sounds good. And?”

Nancy shot him an impatient look. “I also understand Mr. Hiramine is a golf fanatic. I’m making arrangements for him to play at your Club and at Brookhaven.”

“Tell Matthews he’ll need to be there for the golf outings. He’s good at throwing a game.” His phone rang and he glanced at it. He’d had his daily phone inquisition with Marcus, so that left either Evie or Gwen.

“I already have. And Mr. Matthews has the final sales and profit projections ready for your review.”

“Excellent. Anything else?” Evie should be with her French tutor. That narrowed it down considerably.

“Your phone is ringing.” Nancy was secure enough in her position to lob one parting shot as she gathered her notes and made a hasty exit. “I’ll just leave these reports for you to look over later.”

“Will, it’s Gwen. Do you have a minute to talk?” The easy warmth that moved through him at the sound of her voice faded at the tension he heard in her words.

“Of course.” It wasn’t an entirely true statement, but the reports could wait a few minutes longer.

“Have you read today’s issue of Dallas Lifestyles?”

“I never read that rag, but—”

“Tish Cotter-Hulme has half a column about us. I mean, about you and me and Evie, and why we’ve been spotted together. I’m so sorry, Will. Tish is making all kinds of speculations…”

“Calm down. I’m fully aware of what she had to say this morning. I don’t have to read it myself to get a full report of what she says about me. I have people for that.” Gwen didn’t laugh at his lame attempt at humor. “Just don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry? Have you lost your mind?” Gwen’s voice rose an octave, and he winced in pain. “You don’t realize how many phone calls I’ve fielded this morning. Between people wanting me to confirm or deny Tish’s rumors and my clients…”

“This is when the phrase ‘No Comment’ comes in handy.” Why on earth was Gwen so worked up over a gossip column? “It’s just gossip.”

“Gossip kills careers like mine, Will. You may not read Tish, but other people do. And those people don’t like the idea of a loose woman teaching their impressionable daughters.” Gwen had herself worked up into a fine fit.

“A loose woman? Seriously?”

“I’m living in your house. The implication is that we are sleeping together.”

“But we are…”

“That’s beside the point.” Gwen was practically sputtering.

“How is that—”

“I have to tell my clients something. Some reason why I’m living with you and Evie.”

“Don’t tell them anything. It’s none of their business.”

“Sadly, it is. Reputation is everything in this business, and mine is getting dragged through the mud. What am I supposed to…”

“Gwen, calm down. You can tell them you’re working for me—I don’t care about that. I just don’t want people knowing the particulars. It would be embarrassing for Evie.”

“Hel-lo, what else would I be doing other than tutoring Evie?”

“I don’t know. You do business seminars, too, right? Tell them it’s related to HarCorp.” Gwen made an odd choking sound. He assumed she objected to the small lie. “We sponsor the Med Ball, so it’s not that far from the truth.”

“And why I’m living with you?”

“That’s easy. You’re living with us so you can concentrate fully on your current project.”

“But—”

“What’s that line you told your readers to use when folks want to confirm gossip? Something about assumptions?”

“‘What an interesting assumption’?”

“That’s the one. If someone wants confirmation of Tish’s implications and you don’t want to go with ‘No Comment’ then use that line. Or that ‘How kind of you to take an interest’ one.”

“You read my TeenSpace page?” Amazement tinged her voice. It beat panic, hands down.

“Well, Evie lectured me on my BlackBerry usage, so I thought I should check on the etiquette laws.”

“I think I’m flattered.”

“You should be.” He smiled. At least she was starting to calm down. “Now, are you finished hyperventilating over this?”

“I guess.” Gwen sighed. “You don’t sound very upset over Tish’s rumor mongering.”

“I learned a long time ago to ignore speculations made about me and my private life. Tish just hasn’t gotten the hint yet.” Although with Evie on the scene, he should probably make clear that his willingness to ignore was very limited when it came to his sister.

“I thought you’d be livid. Or angry. Or at least irritated.” Gwen’s outraged sails seemed to have lost their wind, and her voice lost the last of its bluster.

“Oh, I’m irritated all right. It just doesn’t do any good. That said, I try to avoid being fodder for Tish—or anyone else—as much as possible.”

Gwen sighed again. “I guess I can make do with the minimum amount of excuses. Whether anyone will believe them is a different animal entirely.”

“Good. Now can we talk about something else?” He leaned back and propped his feet on his desk.

“Don’t you have work to do?”

His e-mail pinged. “Of course, but I have a few minutes for you.”

“Now I am flattered.”

“You should be. I’m a very busy man,” he teased.

Gwen’s chuckle sent heat rushing through him and all of his blood south. It was hard to believe just a week ago, he hadn’t known this woman existed. Seven days later, he was ignoring HarCorp just to talk to her.

“Well, I happen to be a very busy woman. You may have time to chat, but I have clients to soothe and teenagers to counsel.”

Will was oddly disappointed. “Good luck with that. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Bye.”

With the phone in its cradle, he opened his e-mail. Another file on Japanese business practices and culture from Nancy. He sighed; he really needed to get Gwen to help him with his language lessons.

Gwen spoke Japanese. That sparked a memory from Gwen’s first dinner. What had she said? Something about a degree in International Affairs? Yeah, and a special interest in Asian culture.

Why hadn’t he made the connection before? Because at first you were only focused on Evie, and then you focused too much on Gwen.

He’d ask Gwen if she’d be willing to help him with this meeting with Hiramine. That would save him a ton of work. Less work also meant more time with Gwen. Plus, the time he spent working with her on this project…well, that line between business and pleasure he’d bragged about was getting thinner by the minute.

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