Under The Millionaire's Influence

Except he couldn’t let her derail him now. “Actually, I’m heading over to give your family a wake-up call.”

“That’s where I’m going. They seem to be already moving about.”

“I didn’t mean that kind of wake-up.” He stepped between her and the RVs, determined those people wouldn’t hurt her any further.

“David, you don’t need to worry.” A sad smile strained her face as she swiped her windswept hair from her face. “Your mother and I have already spoken. I’m going to ask them to move off the grass and over to the beach.”

A beach three states over wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him. “That isn’t what I meant. They need to leave.”

“It isn’t your place to make that call.”

“You can’t actually want them to stay.”

“I’ll handle them.” Her chin tipped with a bravado he recognized from the day she’d arrived in the neighborhood, a grubby scrap of a kid with a mop of hair that likely hadn’t seen a brush in a week. “I always do.”

He resisted the urge to gather her in his arms, knowing full well she wouldn’t welcome the gesture. But he wasn’t backing down. “You don’t have to. I’ll take care of this today. Now.”

Her pretty lips went tight. “You don’t have to and in case you missed out on noticing, I didn’t ask for your help.”

She may have been standing there steely strong, but he remembered well the teen who’d cried all over his chest because of how much damage these people could do with even a token visit when they attempted to lure her into their world again.

“David?”

He snapped back to the present. “Yes?”

“Step aside, please.”

“No.” Not a damn chance.

“No? Who the hell do you think you are to tell me no?” Her amazing hair seemed to crackle and lift with the energy overflow, as if her short and willowy body couldn’t contain it all. “I realize you’re embarrassed to have them in your precious prestigious neighborhood, but this is my property and I will take care of the issue.”

He started to explain to her…then stopped. He didn’t want her softening because then he’d do something risky…like touch her.

“We can stand here and debate this all day, but you know me well and once I’ve made up my mind…” David began to say.

“You don’t budge.” She fondled a glue gun tucked halfway in her pocket. “It’s not an endearing quality, you know.”

Perhaps not, but it was one that would keep her safe.

Problem was, this woman was almost as stubborn as him. Almost.

So where did that leave him? Much more of this and he would have to do something like toss her over his shoulder and pass her off to her sister. Claire was the most logical woman he’d ever met. Surely he could garner an ally in her.

Starr stepped closer as if to brush past. His hands itched to touch her, even if only for a fireman’s hold that would no doubt inflame her. God, she was hot when her temper flared.

Her pupils dilated with an awareness that could well send them both dashing back to her place. They wouldn’t even have to get naked. They’d done it half-clothed often enough, coming together in a frenzy, too impatient to wait.

Then had come the slow, leisurely sex…

His breathing went ragged. His whole body tensed, muscles straining to be set loose and take this woman.

His cell phone buzzed in his jacket pocket. Damn.

It could only be work. He didn’t have anything else in his life. He usually lived for the thrill of his job, but right now the thrill of this woman…

Just damn.

Stepping back, he reached into his coat and pulled out his phone to check the number. It could wait until he got into his car.

He shoved his cell back into his coat. “Starr, none of this changes what needs to happen with your family.”

“And none of this changes the fact that my business, my life is not your problem.” Her stubborn jaw jutted.

Without question, he would have to carry her off the lawn and lock her in her house, not exactly legal.

And then it hit him. He had a better way to circle around the situation after all. His connections at work. Find something on her family, because his radar, honed from assignments around the world, blared that they were always up to something, something that would spell bad news for Starr.

He nodded. “Believe whatever you want for why I want them gone, but I’m not done here. I’ll be back to settle this later.” He had to add, “Be careful.”

David thumbed the remote control to his Lexus. The sooner he got to work, the sooner he could put out feelers about the Cimino family.

Just because Starr was hell-bent on her independence didn’t mean he would stand back and let anyone take advantage of her.

Starr plunked her butt down on the back step of the Beachcombers Restaurant and stared at the Cimino family RVs from the quiet retreat of the deep porch. After her confrontation with David, she needed a moment to collect herself before she could handle another face-to-face with anyone—especially the residents of those three crumbling RVs.

The front of the restaurant hummed with activity from brunch traffic transitioning into lunch. Ashley worked the gift shop while studying for her CPA exam. The back section, which they used as a bar, wouldn’t stir to life until suppertime and into the evening when the weekend’s live band cranked to life, so she soaked up the second’s silence to watch the shadows moving behind the gingham curtains covering the RV windows.

Her time to gather herself had come to an end.

The larger RV—the one towed behind a truck as opposed to the other two that were single units—rocked with walking bodies. Her stomach clenched. She’d seen her family only five times in the last seventeen years—this would make number six. And during each visit, they made their displeasure known when she hadn’t fallen into line by returning to the “traveler clan” fold.

Aunt Libby’s stolen silver flatware.

Mrs. Hamilton-Reis’s Dutch tulips smashed by RV wheels.

David’s keyed Mustang.

They knew how to hurt her most, through embarrassment. What would they do this time? Hard won control inched away.

A door swung wide. Ma filled the opening.

Gita had aged. The notion stabbed through Starr with a sympathy she didn’t want and outright feared because it made her vulnerable, seeing those streaks of gray in her hair, the wrinkles lining her mother’s face. Her ma still wore her hair long and curly like Starr, gathered in a ponytail, her jeans and shirt with fringe in constant motion, giving her a hummingbird air as she raced down the steps. “Good morning, sunshine.”

More like good afternoon, but Starr wasn’t going to start off the conversation by being contrary. “What brings all of you to the area?”

“Our baby girl of course,” her father answered, standing on the top step, stretching his arms over his head.

No denying her parentage. She’d inherited her mother’s hair, and her da’s face and slight stature, which gave her a clear view into their home on wheels. Over his shoulders she could see the standard assortment of purses. Not that her ma collected purses in the manner of most fashion-conscious PTA moms. Nah. Gita Cimino collected purses from PTA moms.

Currently visible—a black sequined bag with a cell-phone caddy dangling and an oversize brown leather bag with diapers sticking out and a couple of bottles tucked into pouches along the side. Starr’s heart squeezed as she thought about the poor young mother reporting her bag stolen while she jostled a hungry baby on her hip.

Gita and Frederick Cimino were a match made in hell.

The other two Cimino brothers and their wives had their own scams of choice. The older brother specialized in items bought in bulk on the Internet and sold door to door—magic sweepers, garbage disposals, dishes, vitamins, herbal remedies. You name it, Starr figured he’d scammed it.

The youngest brother specialized in out-of-court settlements—slipping on a sidewalk, breaking a tooth in a restaurant, the list went on. She’d been roped into those many a time as a child because an injured kid evoked major sympathy.

Was it any wonder she’d been so jaded when at ten years old she’d clutched the social worker’s hand and stood in front of Aunt Libby’s looming double doors?

“So hey there, Starr,” her mother called, making her way across the lawn. “No hug for your ma?”

“If you need one, then I’m over here.”

Her mother hesitated mid hummingbird buzz across the lawn and perched her hands on her hips. “Still carrying a grudge, I see.”

Starr stayed silent even though she wanted to speak. Nearly being killed by the woman after being stuck in the camper all day in the heat? Reasonable grudge material so far as she could tell.

While a very, very wise Frederick headed for a walk along the beach, Gita skimmed her way across the sandy lawn and took the Beachcomber steps more slowly. Starr could feel her skin tightening in fear of the hug…. Then Gita dropped to sit beside her, no fake semblance of familial affection, thank goodness, which showed an understanding of Starr’s position. In that moment, Starr forgave her a little—or at least eased up on some of the anger.

She hadn’t even known how much rage roiled inside her until she opened the tap to ease a cup free, almost like working an overfull keg at the bar. Could the rawness of her emotions be blamed on David’s return?

Might as well make conversation, and the obvious questions needed asking after all. Heaven knew she needed to deal with them before David came charging over like a bull on a rampage. “What time did y’all pull in last night?”

“Around 3:00 a.m.”

So she’d been deeply asleep by then, dead tired after closing up the restaurant. Still, she wondered how she’d missed the arrival of the caravan. It was ghostly spooky how they’d sneaked up on her. And David’s return, too. The cosmos was ganging up on her today. “You must have better mufflers these days. I didn’t even hear you.”

“Your uncle Benny picked up a few extra, dirt cheap off the Internet.” She stroked a seashell-encrusted stepping stone at the base of the stairs and by the covetous gleam in Gita’s eyes, Starr knew where to look if it turned up missing tomorrow.

“I should have guessed. He’s always got his eye out for those bulk bargains.” When she’d been around nine, she’d helped him hawk encyclopedias. No matter to Benny that they were a decade out of date.

“Of course you didn’t guess. You’re getting rusty since you’ve been away from the family for so long.” Gita shook her head and tutted, loosening a gray curl from the band. “It’s to be expected since you’re not with the family anymore.”

Implied guilt? She refused to accept it.

So why couldn’t she find her backbone? Time to rectify that now, as she’d told David she would. Not because she saw David’s mother peering around her heavy brocade curtains, but because Starr wanted to regain control of her business, of her life before she weakened and leaned on David again.

“Ma, you’ll need to tell the family to move the caravan over to the beach, so it’s not visible from the road.”

“Ah, we’re bad for business parking in the lot like that.” She nodded with surprising understanding and not a sign of censure. “Gives off the air of vagrants.”

She hadn’t expected it to be this easy or for her mother to be this blunt—or honest. “I don’t mean to be insulting.” She fished in her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I’ve typed up a list of some beautiful waterside RV parks in the area that will accommodate your needs perfectly.”

Her fist clenched around the paper while she waited—prayed—that her mother would take the list and hit the road.

“Baby, I’m not insulted. I understand about doing whatever it takes to bring in the buck. We’ll get off your lawn and onto the beach over there. No worries or need to waste money on one of those parks. You’ve got a great view there and we’ll situate ourselves just right, now that we know the angle you want us to work. We’ll have vacationers stamped all over us by sundown.”

“Hey, Ma, wait—”

“Shhh. Just listen.” Gita slung her arm around Starr’s shoulders and pulled her in for that unwanted hug. “We can play roles well. We’ll even beef up business for your little artsy gift shop as a personal favor. You’ll see.”

Starr stiffened even as her arm automatically slid around Ma’s waist out of habit. Already she was falling back into old habits even though she’d told David not a half hour ago that she had a spine of steel. David. Why did all of her thoughts have to cycle back around to him?

This wasn’t what she wanted at all. She wanted them out of sight. Actually, she wanted them gone before their con games and get-rich schemes caused trouble in town. Aside from the fact that she couldn’t condone their crimes, she also couldn’t bear these reminders of the gypsy child she’d been. A member of a traveler clan not worthy of David. How had the conversation shifted from having them out of sight to them poking their sticky fingers into her business?

The metaphorical beer keg exploded and she didn’t have a clue how to stop the spewing mess of her emotions.

Three

Standing in her parents’ RV doorway with stars glinting overhead at the end of one of those endless days, Starr passed the bags full of chicken wings and everything else she could think of to feed the gang supper. Hopefully this would keep them happily settled inside for the night.

Her aunt Essie—Uncle Benny’s wife—shuffled off the Styrofoam boxes of food to the mini counter by the sink, pushing aside a Crock-Pot.

“Come on in and join us,” Aunt Essie offered in that fake Bostonian accent she affected in an effort to claim she was a down-on-her-luck member of the Kennedy clan. She actually thought a few touch-football games on the lawn would convince people. “We would love the chance to hear all about your fancy new business.”

“Thanks, really, but I’ve already eaten….” Starr backed off the last step—into air. She’d been swooped off her feet by someone.

A man.

Her stomach lurched as her brain caught up to the fact that a muscular arm banded around her waist. The scent of salty ocean breeze, expensive soap and…exotic man wafted up to her nose.

One man in particular.

David hefted her closer against his chest, his breath hot and bearing a hint of toothpaste against her ear. “Good night, ma’am,” he said nodding to the crowd snatching containers of food. “Starr has other plans for supper this evening.”

Pivoting without waiting for a response, he charged toward the beach with long strides. Away from his house. From her house. Away from the people scattered along the dock pitching shells into the ocean or making out under the moonbeams.

“Care to clue me in on the other plans?” Starr wriggled in his grasp. He hitched her higher, up over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. “I’m not enjoying these plans.”

Well, perhaps she was a little interested and fired up as she grabbed hold of his waist to steady herself. Then she figured she shouldn’t let him know she’d given up quite so easily. She kicked her feet in midair and managed to land two good thunks that elicited a grunt if not a more satisfactory outright ouch. “David, put me down.”

“No.” He kept right on walking, hitching her higher.

She gritted her teeth against the image of her family crowding the door of the RV, Aunt Essie and Uncle Benny side by side, watching while others peered through the windows. Jeez. Couldn’t they just eat their supper, for heaven’s sake?

“This is not the way to win me over.” The macho show of force should have torqued her off, and it would have if she could think through the haze of shimmering hormones. The fine weave of his cotton button-down rubbed against her bargain-bin buy. She’d never been a clothes horse—more of a sales-rack and Goodwill-find shopper—but her tactile artist’s senses appreciated the decadent fabrics a man like David wore.

“Who said I wanted to win you over?” he asked without missing a step.

Now that landed an ouch to her ego—and momentarily stalled her kicking. “Will you please tell me where we’re going and why you’re doing this?”

“Soon.”

His timing. Always on his timetable, all or nothing.

At least she would get to know where he was taking her. And if she was lucky, she would get to push him into the ocean right afterward as payback for these he-man tactics that—damn him—really were kind of turning her on as she thought of other times he’d carried her over his shoulder only to toss her on a bed, or down onto the sand. Then he would make his way from the foot of the bed paying passionate attention to every inch of her body.

His feet thudded along the pier outside his house, abandoned. Apparently he planned to have their late night conversation out here.

Alone.

She was in trouble. Maybe she could jump in the ocean if she didn’t like the path of their chat.

David set her down slowly, sensually easing her body along his until he leaned her against the dock’s railing, the bulk of his height blocking out everything but him as he stood in front of her. His pants had stayed perfectly pressed even after a full day of work. His cotton shirt she’d so enjoyed rubbing against bore the slightest wrinkle from the press of her body against him when he’d carried her. Something about the faint wrinkle hinted at an intimacy that tingled through her. Her gaze fell to his arms, his sleeves rolled up, dark hair along his forearms. Strong arms.

Ohhh-kay. Time to shift her attention elsewhere. She looked up to his face. The moonlight cast shadows over his scowl.

She wanted to kiss that grumpy expression right off his face…except…oh, yeah…she was mad at him. God, she forgot that so easily when the sparks started snapping between them.

Starr bit her bottom lip to keep her words and kisses locked up tight. He’d started this. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of begging for an answer. She’d begged often enough around this man—in bed.

The pupils of his eyes widened. Could he read her thoughts now, too? Was he that good of an interrogator at work? Would she be allowed no secrets from him?

Finally, he blinked. She exhaled.

He tunneled his hand through her curls and cupped the back of her head. “Starr, babe, I thought we went over this earlier today. You’ve got to stay away from them.”

His touch muddled her thoughts when doggone it, she had a list of things, logical things, she wanted to say, such as this wasn’t his problem or any of his business, and instead she found herself babbling, “I’ve asked them to leave and go to an RV park. They refused. Short of siccing the cops on them, I don’t know what more I can do to move them.”

“Then call the police.” His fingers massaged hypnotic circles beyond anything her ma could have set up in one of her psychic scams. “Or evict them. They have no legal right to be here if you don’t want them around.”

Starr chewed on her lip again. She really should tell him to get his hand off her, but it felt so amazingly good and she’d never been particularly strong when it came to resisting his touch….

The very reason she had to stop this. Now. She gripped his wrist. “David. Stop.”

She held his gaze in a battle of wills, the heat of his skin radiating through even his rolled-up shirt cuff. Finally, his fingers slowed against her scalp and he swung his arm away, to his side. She released his wrist—and the gulp of air in her lungs.

He tugged at his tie as if in need of air, too. “Damn it, Starr, they steal from people, they prey on the weak and they’re undoubtedly trying to prey on you.”

“I’m too strong to let anything happen.” And she was stronger now, thanks to the self-confidence Aunt Libby had given her. “They’ll hang out for a few days, realize I don’t have any money to give them and then they’ll leave. Just like always.”

His eyes narrowed. “I can make it happen faster than that.”

Too easily she could let him deal with her problems, but she couldn’t tangle her life with his again. “No offense to your professional buddies, but don’t you think that has been tried again and again? It never works. They always get away with whatever illegal or squirrelly scam they’re running.”

Technically not true, she had to confess, at least to herself.

The police had caught up with them one time. The summer they had found ten-year-old Starr locked alone in a boiling hot RV for eight hours while her parents had gone door to door collecting money for yet another bogus charity. She’d nearly died of heatstroke. Five days in the hospital later, the child protective services in Charleston, South Carolina, had placed her with Aunt Libby as a foster child.

At first she’d been wary of Aunt Libby. Nobody could be that nice. Slowly, Aunt Libby’s maternal magic had worn through the years of neglect and abuse and Starr had begun to heal.

Then had come a new fear—that her family would try to take her back.

Thank God, Aunt Libby had always known just how to handle them on their rare visits to the seaside mansion, always with their hands out. And today, Starr followed Aunt Libby’s model of brushing them off.

“Starr?” David snapped his fingers in front of her face, his voice urgent, a hint impatient.

“What, David? Can we make this quick? I need to get back to work.” Actually back to Ashley’s party, due to start up in an hour.

“Has your family ever been reported to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Has anyone ever told me the specifics of their recent scams?” He thumped his chest.

“Well, uh, I guess technically not.” She knew he was darned amazing at his job. Heaven knew his mother bragged about his feats often enough. The woman hadn’t wanted the two of them together, yet she also hadn’t been able to resist rubbing Starr’s nose in what a “catch” she’d missed out on as he sent postcards from this country or that.

Little did his proud mama know those far flung travels only cemented Starr’s resolution she’d made the right choice. Her connection to Aunt Libby’s crumbling old antebellum home, this city, the sisters of her heart went deeper than David could understand.

“David, honestly, I’m not in their inner circle these days since they know I’m not into that kind of life. Even if I were in the know on their plans, they’re so darn slippery in the execution.”

“No one gets past me.”

His confidence was unmistakable.

She couldn’t resist jabbing. “Could that be because your enormous ego blocks the doorway?”

His mouth twitched. God, she loved his mouth, those perfectly full lips that brought such pleasure. His ability to laugh at himself made him all the more attractive.

“You always have been the only woman who wouldn’t put up with my crap.”

David smoothed his hand over her head again, his fingers tangling in her curls as he slid farther this time, down her neck, her back, free of her hair to palm her waist. He flattened her body to his in one of those masterful shows of gentle force that sent her senses tingling even as she longed to stomp on his foot.

He tucked his size-fourteen wingtip shoes gently over the toes of her feet in a preemptive move as if reading her thoughts. “You may be the only woman who doesn’t put up with my crap, but you’re also the only woman I can’t seem to forget.”

Darn him. He always did know what to say to melt her like the glue sticks in her arts-and-crafts gun. His foot slipped off her feet so she could arch on her toes to receive the kiss she could already sense coming.

No. She would hold strong against temptation.

She flattened her hands to his shoulders to stop his kiss, if not the embrace. Their chests pumped for air against each other in time with the gushing waves below the dock.

“I have to go,” Starr gasped. “We’re having a surprise graduation party for Ashley.”

His arms stayed banded around her, his chin resting on top of her head. He stood a full foot taller than her, yet their bodies always seemed to fit. “No way can she be that old already.”