The Millionaire's Christmas Wife

“Mostly to myself.” She set down her wineglass. “I’m telling you this because while you may think I would be an asset to your cause, in truth, I could just as easily be a liability, depending on how someone feels about me. And, believe me, people generally have strong opinions about it. So you may want to rethink your plan. I’m sure I could come up with someone to fill the part for you.”

She didn’t want to come up with someone else for him, she realized, had changed her mind when she studied his plan. His project intrigued and excited her.

So did he, in an even bigger way. She’d be taking on a big risk personally because he, too, intrigued and excited her, unlike anyone else had for a long time.

“Are you saying you’ll do it?” he asked. He’d gone still and serious.

She’d fallen in love with the idea of his resort, but she couldn’t let him see the extent of her interest yet. She needed to be sensible first. She didn’t want to lose her credibility—or have her heart broken. “I’d like to take the plans home and study them further before I decide. I’d also like to see the scale model you talk about in your plans. And I’d like to see the site in person.”

He half smiled. “It’s not like I’m asking you for money.”

“I can’t lend my name if I don’t fully support what you’re doing. And we have to go into this assuming that some people will figure out who I am. I don’t flaunt it, but I don’t hide it either.”

“I respect that.” Their server picked up their plates, offered dessert menus, then left when they declined. “Are you free tomorrow?” he asked.

They worked out a plan for the next day as they left the restaurant, stopping outside the entrance. She slipped into her raincoat as he held it, then she pulled her mini-umbrella from her briefcase.

“Not gonna rain,” he said, looking up. “Not for a couple of hours, anyway.”

“I suppose you can smell it in the air or something, mountain man.”

He smiled. “The point is, I can’t smell it.”

“I’ll bet you’re very good at your job.”

His shrug could mean anything.

“Where’s your car?” he asked.

“I walked. I usually do.” She pointed ahead. “That’s my building.”

“I’d offer you a ride on Hilda, but I don’t have another helmet with me. And you’d have to hike up your skirt…” He angled toward her, looked about to say something, then stopped himself. “I’ll walk you home.”

She wished he’d said whatever had been on the tip of his tongue. “That’s not necessary, Gideon, but thanks. You should get going before the rain does come, just in case your nose isn’t right,” she added, even though she figured he knew what he was talking about. “You’ve got about an hour’s drive, I think?”

“Are you always this bossy?” He softened the words with a grin. “I want to see you safely home. Be gracious.”

“Who’s the bossy one?” She wasn’t afraid to walk home alone, even though the hustle and bustle of commute time had passed. There wasn’t the usual crowd to get lost in.

He rested his hand at the small of her back to get her moving. Every hormone, every nerve ending in her body reacted.

“You always walk in those stilts?” he asked.

“I left my walking shoes in the office.” Her ego had overruled her usual sensibilities. She’d caught Gideon admiring her legs in the high heels.

“Hilda’s your motorcycle, I gather,” she said, needing to make conversation, needing to do anything to slow the arousal racing through her, clamoring for attention.

“Yep.”

“Why Hilda?”

“It means ready for battle. Hilda Harley is her whole name. She’s a full pedigree. So, should I call you Denise or Deni?”

“Probably Denise, if you don’t want people to guess who I am. They sound like completely different names, don’t you think? Denise is pretty old-fashioned sounding.”

“I don’t know. I’m thinking it might be helpful for people to know who you are.”

She frowned at him. “You must not remember the reputation I had.”

“Was it deserved?”

“Not to the degree it was put out there.”

“People have an impression of who I am, too,” he said, “based on the work I do, as if I wouldn’t be responsible or reliable. I’m responsible for life and limb while my clients are with me. I take that seriously.”

“So then, that’s even more reason to keep my identity a secret. If they got the impression they were working with two flighty people, there’d be no chance of success.” She was aware of him beside her. Aware of his height, his ability to stay focused, his muscular frame, his strong hands. David’s wife had told her about him. How David and Noah went to Gideon for advice, that nothing seemed to faze him. How the brothers all had different mothers but were raised together, their father getting sole custody of each of them. There was a story there, something to ask another time, when they knew each other better.

“You’re quiet,” he said as they waited at a signal.

“You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“Good.”

They crossed the street, were only a block from her high-rise condo complex. “What happens if you don’t get the backing, Gideon?”

“I keep doing what I’ve been doing for all these years. Maybe I’ll find another location and try again. I don’t think in negative terms. I believe this is going to work, one way or another. And I like challenges.”

“Why don’t you go ahead and buy the land, since you have the money for it, then take the time to get a partner?”

“Because if I can’t build the rest of it to create the whole package, I would never have enough of a business to do more than the Bakers have—which pays the bills, but that’s all. I can’t commit to it without knowing there’s a payoff for me.”

“And seeming to be married, even though it’s a lie, is critical to your success.”

“Without question.”

“But no pressure, right?” she asked with a smile.

“Of course not.”

They reached her building. “Would you like to come up?” The invitation came spontaneously, not a conscious decision but an emotional one. If she’d taken a moment to think about it—

“Thanks. I think I should hit the road. Beat the rain.” He looked up. “What floor are you on?”

She was glad he’d turned her down, wasn’t ready for him to be in her space. “Lucky thirteen. The view’s amazing. Plus there’s underground parking, a swimming pool, a library and a fitness room. The amenities are great.”

“I have all that, too. You’ll see tomorrow.” He passed her the tube with the plans rolled up inside.

“I’ll be at your place by nine,” she said.

“Come hungry. I’ll fix you breakfast.”

He cooks, too? “Okay.”

“In the meantime…” He dug into his jacket pocket, pulled out a jeweler’s box and opened it. Inside was a platinum-and-three-diamonds wedding band. “You’ll need to wear this tomorrow.”

The ring was stunning. Her first instinct was to try it on. She curled her hands into fists instead. “Pretty sure of yourself, Gideon.”

He shrugged slightly. “I knew if you were any kind of businesswoman you’d want to see the site in person. You would be there as my wife.”

“I haven’t given you my answer yet. What if you show up with a different ‘wife’ later?”

“You’ve decided.”

His confidence irked her—and pleased her. She liked that he had that much sense of himself.

He plucked the ring from the box and held it up. “Want to see if it fits?”

She held out her hand. The ring seemed on fire, as if chiding her for telling a lie by pretending to be married. “It’s fine,” she said, then tugged it off immediately and handed it back to him. “Did you get one for yourself?”

“I did. It’s plain.” Instead of tucking the ring back in the box, he pulled out a tissue-wrapped packet that contained a long silver chain. He slipped her ring onto it, lifted it over her head and let it dip inside her blouse.

She felt it slide into her cleavage, then nestle.

“For when you’re not playing the part,” he said.

Her mind went blank as he turned her around.

“Thank you for doing this,” he said, and then he kissed her, a soft, electric brush of his lips against hers. “See why I can’t come up?”

“It takes two to tango.”

“Yes, and we’ve both got the moves.” He gave her a knowing look. “I’ll see you in the morning, Mrs. Falcon.”

She laughed but made no move to go into the building. She didn’t want the evening to end. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt that way, and this hadn’t even been a date.

Well…actually, it had been considerably more than a date. She’d just sort of gotten married.

“I can’t leave until you’re safely indoors,” he said, interrupting her thoughts.

It would be useless to tell him she came and went from this building every day without incident, so she went inside. He lifted a hand to her, then took off, his stride long and easy. She watched until he was out of sight. In her condo a few minutes later she stared at her phone. She’d almost asked him to call when he got home so that she knew he made it okay, before the rain. He would’ve laughed at her.

So instead she waited a little over an hour, then dialed his number.

He picked up on the first ring. “Safe and sound. And dry,” he said instead of hello.

She hesitated. She really needed to remember how intuitive he was, that he would’ve seen in her eyes that she was worried about him riding Hilda in the rain. “That’s not why I called.”

“You have some burning question that can’t wait until morning?”

She heard laughter in his voice. Lighten up, she told herself. Have fun, like he is.

“It doesn’t bother me that you were worried,” he said before she could think up a reason for calling. “It’s nice. Wifely.” He did laugh then, soft and low. “Did you try on the ring again?”

Her face heated. She’d not only tried it on, it was still on. Really, how could she work with someone who’d figured her out so well, so soon?

“I gather you don’t want to lie to me, so you’re keeping silent instead,” he said.

“Or it could be that your ego doesn’t need more feeding.”

“Touché. We’re going to need to talk about this attraction, don’t you think? Get it out in the open so that we can work together?”

“I think that’s a good idea, Gideon.” She hadn’t figured him to be the kind of man to “talk.” She’d spent her life around men who didn’t talk about anything risky, emotional or otherwise.

“It’ll make great breakfast conversation. Anything you hate or are allergic to?”

“I’m game for anything.”

“Anything?”

“Food-wise,” she said with a smile. He was going to keep her on her toes.

“See you tomorrow morning, Mrs. Falcon.”

She tried to think of something witty to say in return, but came up empty. “Good night, mountain man.” She hung up, left her hand curved over the receiver. She stared at the brilliant wedding band.

She couldn’t fault the man for his taste, or his brains. Or his body. He was the real deal, the whole package.

And if she wasn’t careful, he would end up being the death of her grand plans for herself.

Chapter Three

Denise thoroughly enjoyed her drive the next morning up into the gorgeous and green Sierra foothills. The farther away she got from Sacramento, the more her shoulders relaxed, which surprised her. She loved her city life. She had a prosperous business, good friends and a busy social life. She thrived on action and purpose. This trip was making her forget work completely.

Except, of course, there was something else to worry about—Gideon. She’d taken some risks in her life, but this was one of the riskiest, getting involved with a man embarking on a new enterprise that would take years of focus and concentration.

At five minutes to nine, she turned into Gideon’s driveway and followed it a long way back, not seeing the house until she’d made a couple turns. She had to laugh. He’d said his house had all the amenities of her condo, including underground parking. She guessed he’d meant the parking area under his deck, which stood probably twelve feet above the ground, the front of the house raised on thick beams. A silver-gray SUV was parked below the deck, Hilda next to it.

The structure itself, more cabin than house, melded aesthetically with the surroundings of oak and pine trees, evergreen shrubs and craggy rocks. Frost rimed shady spots.

She parked in a graded space off to the side. By the time she’d gotten out of her car, he was walking toward her. The quiet struck her—even the fact she couldn’t hear his footsteps. She shivered, wondering what the temperature was.

“Welcome,” he said, his breath billowing in the cold air, his gaze intense.

She wanted to hug him hello. Instead she said, “This is breathtaking, Gideon. I’m looking for the swimming pool, however.”

“You can see it best from the back porch, upstairs.”

“Lead the way. I can’t wait to see your library and fitness center, too.”

He grinned. “They may not match up with your own on-site amenities, but then I value privacy more than size.” He headed up the path that led to steps hewn of heavy timber. They crossed his front deck, where comfortable cushioned chairs and wooden side tables made the perfect place to sit and think, to enjoy the birds and squirrels in the branches above, or whatever other wildlife passed through the property. Deer, she supposed. Foxes.

Tall, thick trees blocked the wind, filtered the sun and scented the air with pine, a reminder, too, that Christmas was coming.

The cabin’s exterior was built of logs. She couldn’t guess how old it was, but it looked well maintained.

“The swimming pool,” he announced gesturing toward a small, sapphire-blue lake a couple hundred yards in the distance. Smoke rose from chimneys here and there in the landscape between his place and the lake.

“You swim laps, I suppose,” she said.

“Daily.”

“I’ll bet.” She rested her hands on the railing and took it all in. “It’s stunning. So is your cabin.”

“Thanks. I built it myself.”

She wondered why she wasn’t surprised. “That must be satisfying.”

“Beyond measure.” He eyed his house, looking pleased.

“You’re a man of many talents, aren’t you? Very of-the-earth.” Very macho, she wanted to add. She was more used to executives—the kind of men Gideon probably took on adventure treks into the wilderness. Men more like his brothers, actually.

“You’re wearing the ring,” he said, putting his hand over hers, rubbing the stones with his thumb. “I’m going to take that to mean you’ve decided to be my wife.”

Heat snaked through her. “Your pretend wife. You’re wearing yours, as well.”

He nodded, a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth, drawing her gaze to the lips that had kissed her lightly last night, leaving a desire for more.

“There are details to work out,” she said.

“Like?”

“Legalities.”

“Salary,” he stated.

She turned around and crossed her arms, leaning against the wood at her waist. “I don’t want us to have a contract through my business, but something personal.”

“I’m willing to deal. What are you looking for?”

“No salary.”

His brows went up. “Why not?”

“I know your intention was to hire me as a kind of figurehead, someone to show off, but I can be of much more help than that. I have contacts, you know.”

He hesitated. “Let’s talk about it over breakfast.” He led the way into his house, the front of which was almost entirely glass, allowing an incredible view from inside.

She smelled bacon, her all-time favorite food, although she wouldn’t have admitted that to anyone. Logs crackled in a big, stone fireplace. The large, open floor plan included the kitchen, living room and dining room, its table set with very masculine black-and-brown dishes and placemats. A carved wooden bowl heaped with pinecones made up the centerpiece.

He’d already moved into the kitchen. She ambled over to the counter and eased onto a stool to watch him work.

He pointed to several bowls on the counter, filled with fresh ingredients—tomatoes, shredded cheese, sautéed mushrooms and green onions. “I’m making omelets. What’s your pleasure?”

“The works, thanks.”

“And salsa?”

“Perfect.”

He grabbed a piece of crisp bacon kept warm in an aluminum foil packet and passed it to her. His eyes were smiling, as if he knew, absolutely knew for a fact she was dying for a piece. “Coffee?” he asked.

“Love some. But I can get it.”

“You’re my guest. Relax.” He poured her a cup, added one sugar and a smidgen of cream, then set the mug in front of her. When she looked at him in surprise, he said, “I’m assuming your tastes haven’t changed since the wedding reception.”

He turned back to the stove, added butter to a hot pan and started fixing an omelet like a seasoned chef. She nibbled on bacon, sipped her coffee and enjoyed the show, which seemed effortless and efficient. He turned the omelet onto a plate, then quickly assembled another exactly the same. He poured warmed-up salsa over the top of each, added bacon and sourdough toast to each plate, then carried them to the table.

“You’re fun to watch,” she said, taking her seat. “Have you worked as a chef?”

“Sort of. I cook for my clients, but I generally use a small camp stove or an open fire pit for that. And I’ve always liked to cook. I learned very young because Noah, being the oldest, was given way too many chores as we were growing up, and he hated cooking, so I took over. I’m the grill master in our family.”

They ate in silence for a couple of minutes.

“You’re good,” she said, toasting him with a forkful of eggs.

“Do you like to cook?”

“Yes.” She looked around his living space then realized there were no photos out, no family in view. There were none in her place, either, except in her bedroom. “How close are you to your brothers’ homes?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

“I went to both houses to pick up Tricia and Valerie for Valerie’s bachelorette party. They have beautiful homes.”

She looked at him over the rim of her mug. “I heard that all three of you were equal partners after your father died.”

“True. I sold my share to them after a year or so. The job required heavy-duty sales. I was good at it, but I hated it. Falcon Motorcars has done just fine without me. David and Noah have also done just fine without me on board, too. They took what our father started and made it a success many times over what he’d done with it. I expect this deal will do the same for me.”

“You’ll be a millionaire.”

He smiled slightly. “That wouldn’t be something new for me. I took my profits from the family business and made smart investments, thanks initially to Max Beauregard’s advice.”

She’d already figured out he was incredibly bright. “How long ago did you build your house?”

“Two years. After my divorce.” He stood and took their plates to the kitchen, then ran water over them in the sink.

She didn’t ask if she could help, just pitched in, and he didn’t refuse.

“Sore subject?” she asked.

“What? The divorce? No. It laid me low at the time, but after the fact I realized I’d married her for the wrong reasons. She admitted the same. At least I’d been smart enough to protect my inheritance with a prenup. I’ve always lived on what I made. When I was first on my own, I got myself into a couple of ventures that were disastrous. I even got Noah and David involved. They said they weren’t going to risk it anymore. It forced me to figure out what to do. And as soon as I got my adventure business running, it paid off. Marriage seemed like the next logical step.”

Denise appreciated his openness, particularly admitting to his failures. She never liked anyone to know about hers.

She found dish soap and started filling the sink with hot water, not seeing a dishwasher anywhere. “No children?”

“No.” He reached around her to drop some dishes into the filling sink, his chest brushing her back, triggering little explosions all through her.

She liked the sensation, way too much. If they were going to work together she should avoid contact with him now that she knew how much and how easily he affected her, but she hadn’t felt like this for a long time, if ever. She didn’t mind experimenting to see how far they could go.

She just needed to keep her heart intact, her life on schedule.

“When did you tell the Bakers you’re married?” she asked.

“A month ago.”

“What have you told them about me?”

“That you’re beautiful and brilliant. Obviously, I was psychic,” he said, smiling. “I don’t remember everything I said, exactly. Joanne asked a lot of questions. That woman believes more in marriage than anyone I’ve met.”

“Do we want children?” she asked.

He grabbed a dishtowel and a rinsed plate, his hip resting against the countertop. “Absolutely. As soon as possible. I’m thirty-two, after all, and you’re—I don’t even know.”

“Twenty-nine.” She wondered if what he’d told the Bakers was the truth or a story. “So, I’m not on the pill, after all?”

He met her gaze directly. “No pill. No condoms. Nothing.”

“Hmm. Am I giving up my business in Sacramento? Did you tell them your wife works?”

“I’m pretty sure I avoided the topic. As for our story today, we should probably say we haven’t decided yet. That you may get someone to run it.”

“Which means I’m scrapping my plans to open At Your Service franchises around the country, I guess.”

He whistled. “Is that your goal?You don’t think small.”

“Nope.” She wanted to create her own empire.

“Have you given yourself a time frame?” Gideon asked.

“I have a schedule.”

“Of course you do.”

She smiled. “San Francisco next year.”

“Will you move there?”

“Temporarily. It’s a good place for me to branch out, because I’ve already made inroads there. Los Angeles after that, probably.” She rinsed the last pan and passed it to Gideon, then wiped down the counter as he finished putting things away.

“And the real Gideon? Do you want children?”

“Definitely. I need a few years’ cushion to get the business going. How about you?”

“Also definitely. Just not yet. Not in the schedule.”

“Exactly. Mine, either.”

“So. I’d like to see your scale model,” she said, deciding to change the subject, which had gotten too personal.

“It’s in my office.”

They walked past a large bathroom on the left and an even larger bedroom on the right. She caught a glimpse of masculine decor, including a huge pine bed covered with a green-and-black quilt. At the back of the house was a room that stretched across the whole width. An office took up one side, exercise equipment the other. One wall was bookcases, filled top to bottom. The view through the large windows went on forever, the lake a shimmering gem, the forest beyond thick and luxuriant.

“Welcome to my library and gym,” he said, his eyes sparkling. “All the necessary amenities.”

“So I see. I’m surprised you don’t have a dog. You seem like a dog person.”

“I’m gone too much. It’s in my plans, though.”

“A teacup poodle, I suppose.”

“Fifi. You got me all figured out.”

She wandered to a large table on which sat his scale model. She took her time studying it. He waited silently, letting her review it on her own. “You built this model, too?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“How long have you been working on the project?”

“A year on this site specifically. It took some time to get environmental impact studies done and to analyze the economics of other sites similar to this. I’ve seen plenty of family resorts around the country and a few in Europe. I took the best of what I saw, then created what I consider is the perfect environment. But technically I’ve been studying this business for nine years. I believe I know what will work and what won’t. Except that I’m not an expert in hotel design like you, obviously,” he added.