Tempted

An excited tingle tickled her stomach. She loved the thrill of the hunt, especially when the prize was fat and juicy like Stuart.

Harper would do her best to help Stuart move on from the death of Perfect Wifey Number 1.

Because life was for the living.

And it wasn’t as if his wife was going to spend his millions.

A small smile found her, but, in spite of her plans to go over her research, Harper’s thoughts drifted to her cute neighbor.

She certainly knew that type. Teagan Carmichael was the kind of man her mother would’ve tripped all over herself to land. But even if Anna Riley had never learned, Harper had gotten the message loud and clear.

Charming men were the first to bail when things got tough—or when they’d taken everything there was to take.

Poor Mom. In love with being in love. Eternally hopeful that the next guy was the one.

Harper would watch as men walked in and out of Anna’s life, leaving her with less and less.

If a man had bad credit, was nearly homeless, with a string of abandoned baby mamas, but could charm her with a seemingly devoted smile, Anna was all in.

But if Anna was continually blinded by love, Harper had become jaded by it.

Especially after Rex Harrington. Or whatever his name truly was.

Just the thought of Rex and what he’d done to her mother—and by proxy, her—made Harper want to throw something.

So, it didn’t matter that Teagan was the kind of man who took her breath away. His cute face and tight behind weren’t going to pay her bills.

Tonight was the dinner and dance mixer. She’d already arranged to be seated at Stuart’s table. No doubt she’d have to fend off her share of competition, but this wasn’t her first rodeo.

She pulled up Stuart’s picture. Not bad looking. Bald but not fat—that was a plus.

Her last target had been as jolly as Santa Claus in the waistband, but not quite as pleasant in his demeanor.

She tried not to remember the times when his slobbery kisses had nearly made her retch.

Ulysses Prawner had been the worst.

A millionaire, but barely so, he’d liked to spend his money on women and toys. Harper had helped him in his endeavors.

Only, Ulysses hadn’t known when to stop. His investments couldn’t keep up with his spending and before long he’d come to Harper with a sob story.

“Baby,” he’d implored as she’d packed her bags. “I’m just in a slump. Things will get better. They always do. Don’t go.”

Harper had already been casing the next target and was eager to move on. Actually, she’d been relieved to find a reason to bail. “Ulysses, let’s not make this uncomfortable. What we had has run its course.”

“But I love you, baby,” he’d cried, grasping for her hands.

She’d tried to find an ounce of compassion for the man, but the well had run dry.

Pulling her hands free, she’d cast him a look filled with pity and walked out the door.

Not empty-handed, of course.

Every gift, every bit of cash that flowed her way had gone into a secret account, as did all her investments.

Someday she’d have enough to be solvent on her own. No more chasing after wealthy old pricks, swallowing her dignity and pride to cater to their every whim.

Someday.

That’s why Stuart Buck was so important.

That old man was going to put a ring on her finger—without the protection of a prenup.

Then, when he died, all of his assets would go to Harper.

No more scouring the society pages, frequenting country clubs and pretending to be someone she wasn’t just to make a dollar.

No more stressing about how she was going to pay her mother’s care bill.

The woman was as dependent on Harper as a child was on its parent.

Irony at its finest.

Even as much as Harper was focused on the big picture, there were times when a forlorn sadness intruded on her thoughts.

She’d stopped feeling guilty a long time ago, but now and then, she wished she had the luxury of enjoying a normal relationship.

Thankfully, that kind of wistful thinking didn’t happen often, but seeing someone like Teagan was always good for a little melancholy.

The fact was, she didn’t want to rely on anyone but herself for her well-being. In this world, either you were on the bottom or the top. And she made sure she was never on the bottom.

Harper jerked a short breath in and refocused. “Stuart, you sweet, old man. You are never going to know what hit you.”

Harper slipped her phone back into her purse and disappeared into her bathroom to get ready.

The stage was set and the players ready.

Time for the performance.

3

TEAGAN SURVEYED THE resplendent lounge, with burgundy walls and gold filigree ornamentation spilling out over every surface, and wondered if he’d somehow stepped into a time warp.

Lounge acts always reminded him of cheesy pickup lines and boozed-out singers looking for some last-ditch effort to rekindle their dying career.

In other words, Teagan had never really considered a lounge a great place to meet people he wanted to hang with.

But as his gaze perused the room, he locked on to the one person who’d made this trip remotely interesting.

Harper.

Long dark hair curled in lazy waves down her open-back black dress, the short hem teasing the toned length of her legs perched on sassy heels. Everything about her was elegant and refined, yet pulsed with a raw sensuality that spoke his language.

For him, everyone else faded away, even the flock of men surrounding her, all vying for a smile from the beauty.

Harper knew the power she held over men. Teagan could see it in the way she played the coy and delicate lady for the decidedly older men salivating around her.

He continued to watch with interest, finding the scene telling.

Teagan knew women of all kinds.

Being a former flyboy, his education on women had taught him that they could rule the world if they wanted.

They held the power in their nimble fingers to twist men in pretzels, but only a small percentage actually knew how to wield that power with any kind of efficiency.

But watching Harper, it was easy to see that the woman knew exactly what she was doing.

Good sense told him to walk away.

Find a different lady to spend his week with—someone less complicated.

Less dangerous.

But he knew that wasn’t going to happen.

A slow burn of a smile spread on his lips. Harper was a challenge that fired him up in ways he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time.

But if he remembered the rules of this game correctly, a direct approach would end in failure.

Harper was all about strategy, cunning.

So he had to respond in kind.

Well, J.T. had wanted him to cut loose, have fun.

What better fun could there be than trying to catch a woman intent on running away?

Hell, it was a bad idea—practically reeking of disaster—but he was in.

All in.

Tonight’s event was a standard meet and greet, with a single-and-ready-to-mingle vibe. Polite laughter and the buzz of conversation floated around the room. There were plenty of fish in this fishbowl, that was for certain.

Once his buddy Kirk Addler had joked that Teagan ought to put himself on Tinder. Teagan hadn’t paid attention to the newest apps and whatnot that were out there, so he’d reluctantly checked it out, seeing as Kirk seemed keen on it.

After a few appalling swipes, Teagan was a definite no.

And Kirk deserved a kick in the ass.

And more than likely, an STD check.

Swipe right, swipe left...no thanks.

If that was the dating in the new age, he’d happily remain single.

Ignoring the urge to insert himself into her circle of admirers, Teagan made a deliberate detour to the bar but managed to make brief eye contact with the brunette hottie. However, he made sure he was the one to break contact first before continuing on, as if she were merely a blip on his ever-roving radar.

Chicks hated to be overlooked.

Especially ones who knew they were the hottest in the room.

A smartly dressed bartender politely attended to his needs and, after receiving his beer, he tipped the man well.

Teagan didn’t have to wait long before his bait caught a nibble.

But not by the right fish.

Cougar Lady was hot on his trail, eyes flashing and tail twitching. “There you are again,” she said, sliding into the seat beside him at the bar. This time she extended her hand in a seductive introduction. “Vanessa Vermuelen. And you are? Aside from tall, delicious and ready-to-eat?”

“Teagan Carmichael,” he answered, appreciating the view of her bountiful cleavage practically inviting him to lay his head on it. He flagged the bartender, and because Teagan had tipped well, the bartender was eager to serve. “My lady friend here is in need of a drink.”

“Whiskey sour,” she said with a throaty laugh that was deep and sexy. Then she gently tugged at the bartender’s sleeve and said with a wink, “And don’t go light on the whiskey, sweet thing.”

The bartender grinned and ducked his head in a nod. “You got it.”

Vanessa turned to Teagan. “The drinks are included in your package but they tend to skimp on the good stuff. I always like to let the bartender know that I like a stiff...drink.”

If Teagan hadn’t been clued in already, he would’ve caught the message loud and clear this time—he was on her meal plan.

“So tell me, Teagan... What are you here for?” she asked, going for the direct approach. “A little fun, something deeper? Because I’m open to either. I’m footloose and fancy-free and I intend to live it up.”

Teagan couldn’t help but smile at the engaging woman, even if he didn’t want to sleep with her. She had a way about her that was infectious, and he liked her company.

“I’m not sure what I’m looking for,” he answered. “My brother booked this cruise and kinda forced me to go.”

“Sounds like a fun brother,” she said, sipping her drink. “So, not married? Divorced? Widowed? What’s your story?”

“Absolutely single. Never been married. You?”

Vanessa released a breath in dramatic style and readjusted her ample cleavage. “Was married to a real son of a bitch but he did me a solid and died. His insurance payout was about the only decent thing he ever did in his life.”

“That bad, huh?”

“He wasn’t winning any humanitarian awards,” Vanessa drawled with derision, then tacked on, “Well, I stayed with the bastard too long so that’s my fault, but I was raised that you didn’t quit. So I stayed. Wasted the best parts of my life, too. But that’s over, honey. I’m here to tear things up, starting with you, sugar pot.” She squeezed his thigh, and he jumped. Her eyes lit up as she grinned. “You are a jumpy thing. All that young energy, stamina...mmm...just what I am looking for.”

Teagan didn’t want to hurt the older lady’s feelings, but he didn’t want to lead her on, either. “Vanessa, you are a smoking-hot woman, no doubt. Some man is going to be counting his lucky stars with you on his arm but I’m not sure I’m ready to take things to that level.”

Vanessa’s smile was strained around the edges but she nodded. “Sure, no problem. You’re old-fashioned. I like that. Most times men are just eager to drop their drawers if the invitation is bold enough.”

“When did your husband die?” he asked.

She exhaled before taking another drink. “Two years ago. Heart attack. Dropped dead in the middle of a steak dinner. Ruined everyone’s appetite, that’s for sure. I haven’t been back to that restaurant since.”

Even though Vanessa implied she was glad to be widowed, Teagan sensed lingering grief. Some things were hard to quit, especially if it was something like a long-term relationship.

“So, I do these cruises for fun, to pass the time. Meet people.”

“How many cruises have you done?” he asked.

“This is my fourth.”

Four singles cruises? Basically, two a year for the past two years since her husband died. That admission told a story.

“What was your husband’s name?”

She cast him an uncertain look as if surprised he was asking, then answered, “Dale. We were high school sweethearts.”

Vanessa blinked rapidly and Teagan realized she was fighting tears. Fluttering her hands to wipe away any moisture before it left a track down her heavily made-up face, she rose and excused herself before Teagan could say anything.

Maybe Dale hadn’t been as rotten as Vanessa liked to say.

Sometimes being angry was easier than accepting the pain of true grief.

So far this meet and greet was not going well.

Maybe he could find another woman and send her off in tears.

He motioned for the bartender. “Keep ’em coming.”

* * *

HARPER KNEW THE minute Teagan entered the room. It was as if her eyes were set to track and her aim was unerring.

He looked good.

Damn good.

That self-assured swagger as he surveyed the room, the way a smile flirted with his mouth...he was a bad distraction.

She knew she ought to flirt with the cluster of men corralling her, but seeing as Stuart was a no-show, the idea of wasting time with those pitiful fools was more than she could stomach.

The smart thing would be to return to her room, rest up for tomorrow.

But she wasn’t tired.

In fact, she was practically brimming with restless energy and if she went to her room right now, she’d end up pacing a hole in her tiny stateroom.

A drink would take the edge off.

Don’t do it. Don’t you dare walk over to him.

Ignoring the voice of reason, she politely extricated herself from the cluster and made her way toward Teagan.

She slid into the chair that’d been occupied by the older woman and smiled at the bartender. “Gin and tonic,” she murmured, then turned to Teagan who looked pretty relaxed.

“What happened to your lady friend?” she asked with mild interest. “She seemed into you until she hurried off. Seems your game is a little off. Would you like some pointers?”

He chuckled—the sound tickling her vertebrae like fingers dancing down her spine—and said, “Pointers from you? Hmm...not sure.”

“And why not?”

“Because I’m not really a catch-and-release kind of guy.”

Heat crawled into Harper’s cheeks, caught off guard by how easily Teagan seemed to laser in on her strategy, but she knew it was impossible for him to know. Whatever she was keying in on was her own paranoia. Harper graced Teagan with a small smile. “Why hold on to one, when there are so many to choose from?”

Teagan nodded as if ceding her point until he countered, saying, “Why continue to draw in fish you have no intention of keeping?”

“The thrill of the chase?” she suggested coyly as the bartended pushed her drink toward her. She rewarded him with a blinding smile and a modest tip.

“I don’t see you chasing anyone,” he pointed out, watching as she lifted the glass to her lips. “I see it the other way around. But something tells me, that’s your game.”

It was true. Harper rarely chased—she snared.

“Okay, Mr. Observant...what else do you see?”

The minute she threw the question out there, she knew it was a mistake. Teagan was sharp. There was something about him that cut through the haze and pushed away her carefully constructed web. He wasn’t in a rush to fall all over her and that wasn’t something she was accustomed to, either.

Teagan grinned, amused at her rash response. “You sure you want me to answer that?”

Actually, go ahead and forget I said it.

She graced him with a patronizing smile. “Darling, I can’t wait to hear what you think you see after knowing me for a total of fifteen minutes.”

Teagan swiveled on his chair to face her directly. She sucked in a tight breath as her heart rate quickened, but she held her smile. To her surprise, he reached for her hand and turned it over to observe her palm.

Was he psychic or something? Her smile turned wary. “What are you doing?”

“Shh...”

He lightly traced the faint lines in her palm, sending shivers rioting up her forearm.

“Am I going to be famous?” she teased, if only to quell the racing of her pulse at his touch. “Is this your schtick? Hey, baby, let me tell you your future?”

He graced her with a charming smile and released her hand.

“Well?”

Good God, she could still feel the heat of his fingertips sliding across her skin. Harper absently rubbed at her palm to stop the sensation.

“You, Harper Riley, are a man-eater.”

“And what makes you say that?” she asked, trying to play off his observation as if humoring him.

“Because your hands are soft as a baby’s behind, which means you rarely lift a finger to do much work. Your manicure is perfect, not a single hangnail in sight. Your hair is gorgeous, which means you take the time to have it styled regularly, and your body... Well, you and I both know your body is toned, taut and flawless, which tells me you take care of yourself religiously. Why else would a woman put so much effort into being perfect? Unless she was on the hunt. We men may be stupid but some clichés are true.”

Harper scoffed at his assessment. “Or it could mean I have good genes and I like to work out because it feels good. Besides, who said I was perfect?”

“I’m not finished,” he said, gesturing to her heels. “Expensive designer shoes, a dress that fits like it was made for you, diamond earrings and a Louis Vuitton bag that probably cost more than a small car. Now tell me you’re not on the prowl.”

He was not only right, he was shockingly eagle-eyed for a man.

Was he gay? “How do you know anything about women’s clothing?” she asked. “Do you have a thing for expensive bags and shoes?”

He leaned in, his voice tickling her ear. “I’ve had a few girlfriends with expensive tastes...and I pay attention.”

Danger, Harper, a voice whispered.

The last thing she needed was a man who knew how to pick up on subtle cues. What if he caught on to her plan with Stuart?

She couldn’t afford to mess around. Harper needed that payday.

But their gazes locked as if tethered. Her will to cut the contact faltered in the pull of those gorgeous eyes. The man had won the genetic lottery. Handsome without being pretty, rugged without being ill-mannered. Yes, Teagan was dangerous, indeed.

“I think I’m going to call it a night,” she announced, rising from her seat.

“You haven’t finished your drink.”

Finally breaking their gaze, Harper said, “I think I’ve had enough. Good night, Mr. Carmichael.”

And then, with the effort it took to walk calmly from the room, Harper thought her heart might explode from her chest.

Only when she was safely in her room did she release the shaky breath caught in her lungs.

Teagan was everything she didn’t want—so why had it been so hard to ignore him?

4

THAT WENT SMASHINGLY TERRIBLE, he mused with a wry twist of his lips.

Not only had he chased away two women, he was left with the crazy impulse to follow Harper to her room like a damn stalker.

Clearly she wasn’t interested, right?

No, Teagan didn’t buy that act. Harper was into him, but for some reason she didn’t want to be.

He didn’t like drama or baggage. Hell, he had enough of his own to bother with without dragging someone else’s aboard.

So if Harper wanted to run, he wasn’t about to chase her.

Sounded good in theory.

Sounded damn good.

Except, he was already formulating what he might say to her when he showed up at her door.

Maybe words were the problem. Maybe he ought to just kiss her senseless.

Harper looked as if she needed a little something in her life to muss up that perfectly styled hair.

She was gorgeous, no doubt about that, but he wanted to see her, no makeup, bed head, and in shorts and a T-shirt.

Preferably over breakfast.

That’s the liquor talking, bud. Slow your roll.

Probably true.

He had just enough alcohol in his system to lower his inhibitions, but this whole thing was outside of his comfort zone.

Remember the good old days when you just hooked up with someone at the bar and if things worked out you started the dialogue?

Now he was on a singles cruise. If that didn’t feel like geriatric dating, he didn’t know what did.

He didn’t have the same kind of luck as J.T., meeting the love of his life when she walked into the hangar to hire him.

Forget the part where she almost got them killed. Hey, no one’s perfect.

And maybe if he wasn’t in a bit of a drought, he wouldn’t be fixating on Harper.

Yeah, that was it. It was the drought’s fault.

For the past year and a half, his life had been consumed by Blue Yonder. Trying to keep the business afloat had been harder than either he or J.T. had anticipated.

You know it’s bad when you have to choose between buying toilet paper or food because if you buy both, bills weren’t going to get paid.

Hell, he’d even considered reenlisting.

Thankfully, J.T. had talked him out of that temporary insanity. He had no interest in the soldier life anymore. That was a young man’s game.

And although J.T. liked to remind him that they were neither old nor unfit for duty, both Teagan and J.T. had become accustomed to the luxuries of civilian life.

So, about that drought.

Teagan tried to think of the last time he’d dated.

It took a minute—probably longer than it should have—but his last date had been disappointing. Not because she hadn’t been hot, not because she hadn’t had a great personality, just because his mind had been elsewhere.

Owning your own business had a tendency to suck the energy from every possible outlet.

Including his mojo.

The woman, Clara, had been more than willing to take it to the next level. But his conscience stopped him when things became heated.

Although in hindsight, telling a woman you have to go, after making out for a good solid hour, clothes nearly in a pile, was probably not the best.

But Teagan had known that if he had slept with her, it would have been worse.

Score one for a conscience; zero for his blue balls.

He ought to forget about Harper completely. The whole point of this cruise was to meet up with someone. Maybe he didn’t have to find Mrs. Right, maybe she could just be Mrs. Right Now.

He wasn’t above enjoying himself if the moment was right. But even as he scanned the room, looking for someone who might interest him for the evening, all he could think about was Harper, in her room.

Alone.

It was almost as if he didn’t have a choice. His brain wasn’t going to let anyone else upstairs. Perhaps if he went to Harper, got firmly rejected, he could get the closure he needed and move on.

Just as he was about to make good on his idea, the bar stool was occupied again, only this time, it was with one of the men who’d been clustered around Harper like a drone bee around the queen.

The man didn’t waste time and got right to it. “Hello, friend, whatcha drinking?” he asked.

Curious, Teagan answered, “Beer.”

“Ahh, down-to-earth man,” he said, after ordering a glass of wine. “Look, I’m just going to get down to brass tacks because that’s the kind of man I am, which I’m sure you can appreciate.”

Teagan couldn’t wait to see where this was going.

“You see, I’m the kind of man who sees what he wants and goes after it—no matter the obstacles. That’s how I am in business and how I am in life.”

“Good for you,” Teagan replied, tipping back his beer.

“Yeah, so I think you’ll understand what I mean when I say that I got dibs on the hot brunette.”