Misbehaving with the Millionaire: The Millionaire's Misbehaving Mistress

Evie sat up straight in her chair, drawing Gwen’s attention back to the situation at hand. “How am I doing? Am I hopeless?”

The earnest, expectant look on her face was so different from the usual teenagers that suffered through her classes, and Gwen’s heart clenched at Evie’s need to please. “You’re not hopeless at all, just a little rough around the edges. Would you like to start your lessons tonight?”

Evie’s eager nod would have been almost comical if Gwen hadn’t seen that need exposed earlier. “Then sit up straight, feet on the floor…”

“It’s taken care of, Marcus. Evie’s lessons start today.” The old man could be such a nag.

“Who did you hire? Did you check her references?”

Will hadn’t; that’s what he paid his secretary for. But Marcus didn’t need to know that. “Gwen Sawyer came highly recommended. She does debutante training.”

Nancy came in with his third cup of coffee and an armload of reports, giving him an excuse to cut the conversation short without too much guilt. “Unless you have some company business to discuss…”

“No, no. Get back to work. I’ll be by Thursday evening to meet this Miss Sawyer.”

That was the problem with working with people who’d known you all your life, Will thought as he hung up the phone and turned to the stack of reports Nancy left on his desk. They never believe you’re actually an adult. He was perfectly capable of hiring a tutor for his sister without Marcus’s oversight.

Evie was certainly thrilled with Gwen. He’d seen her briefly this morning, and she’d chattered on in her usual nonstop fashion about all Gwen had taught her after he’d left the table. And she’d thanked him again for hiring the one and only Miss Behavior.

Evie’s excitement was the reason he was currently surfing TeenSpace instead of concentrating on the reports from Tokyo littering his desk. Well, it was part of the reason. He had to admit he was a bit interested in Gwen Sawyer as well. Too bad he had to leave the table last night for that conference call—he’d been enjoying himself.

Telling himself it was his responsibility as Evie’s guardian to check up on Gwen, he’d headed to the Web site Gwen mentioned the night before. TeenSpace was a headache- inducing riot of color and graphics about TV stars and bands he’d never heard of. In the top right-hand corner of the home page he found the link he was looking for. The “Miss Behavior” page loaded and Gwen’s picture smiled at him over the phrase “More Than Forks and Tea Cups…Etiquette for the Twenty-First Century.”

“Etiquette” seemed a pretty broad term for what Gwen was dispensing in her column. Drama and angst outnumbered true etiquette five to one. Gwen was certainly trying, though. In addition to letters from her readers, she had column after column of basic behavior skills. He had to give Gwen credit; she seemed to give sound advice that her readers accepted at face value, and she was extremely, well, polite about everything. Any reservations he might have been entertaining evaporated. Gwen was definitely the right choice for Evie. Out of curiosity, he typed “Miss Behavior” into Google. An article from the Tribune popped up first.

“She’s Not Your Mother’s Miss Manners” Miss Behavior, the new etiquette expert on the Dallas- based TeenSpace Web site, has taken more than Dallas by storm. Hits to the teen-centered site have tripled since she came on board nine months ago, and she gets more e-mail from the site than any other columnist. Part Miss Manners, part Dear Abby, her answers to teens’ modern-day etiquette dilemmas are succinct, sassy and spot-on. In real life, Miss Behavior is Gwen Sawyer, a Dallas etiquette consultant favored by debutantes…

Nancy buzzed the intercom, interrupting his reading.

“Mr. Harrison, Miss Sawyer is on line one.”

Already? Had Evie pushed her over the edge in less than twenty-four hours? “Gwen?”

“I’m sorry to bother you—so I won’t keep you but a minute—but I need to tell Mrs. Gray what time to serve dinner this evening. Is seven all right?”

“I’ll just grab something on the way home, so…”

“I’m afraid that’s not going to work.” Gwen sighed. “I’d hoped to talk to you about this last night at dinner but you were, um, called away before I could.”

Gwen sounded irritated. Evie must be giving her problems. “And?”

“If you want Evie to make progress, she’s going to need to practice. But she needs to practice with someone other than just me, and dinner is a perfect time. Every night would be best, but you’ll need to be home every other night at least.”

“I’m very busy—”

“I know, but we only have three weeks until the Med Ball. Do you or do you not want Evie to be ready?”

“Of course I want her to be ready—”

“Then we’ll see you at dinner. Seven o’clock. Goodbye, Will.”

His hackles went up. Who did she think she was? She worked for him. He buzzed Nancy with the intention of having her get Miss Behavior back on the line so he could get a few things straight about this arrangement…

An unfamiliar feeling stopped him. This was important for Evie; therefore, it was important to him. And what would it hurt after all? It would only be for a couple of weeks, and Mrs. Gray’s meals were a lot better than the take-away bistro on the corner.

“Yes, Mr. Harrison?”

“Find Mitchell and move our meeting back to five o’clock. I have to be out of here no later than six-thirty today.”

“Of course.”

“And, Nancy?”

“Yes, Mr. Harrison?”

He could not believe he was doing this. “Go through my appointment book and reschedule any meeting in the next three weeks that will run later than six.”

“Um…” He could hear the confusion in her voice, but she caught herself quickly. “Not a problem.”

Oh, it would be one hell of a problem. His schedule simply wasn’t that flexible. But he’d be able to assess Evie’s progress and report back to Marcus on a regular basis.

And seeing Gwen in action wouldn’t be bad, either.

“Sometimes, the dessert spoon will be above the plate, along with a dessert fork.”

Evie looked confused for the thousandth time, but Gwen was pleased that she didn’t show her frustration.

“So how’s that different from the soup spoon?”

“Silver is always placed in the order it will be used. Start at the outside and work your way in with each course.” At Evie’s disgruntled look, Gwen added, “And you can always pause for a moment and wait to see which utensil everyone else picks up.”

“No, I can do this.” With her back ramrod straight and a determined set to her chin, Evie went over the place setting again. Granted, Gwen’s teaching set contained enough pieces for the most formal of dinners—far more than Evie would ever be faced with unless she attended a state dinner at Buckingham Palace—but it didn’t hurt to cover every possible base. From past experience, Gwen knew that if Evie felt like she had this under control, any regular setting would seem like child’s play.

“Red wine, white wine, champagne, water. My glasses are to the right.” She touched each piece as she spoke. “Fish fork, salad fork, dinner fork, bread plate and butter knife—”

“Good God, what are we having for dinner?”

Gwen looked up to see Will standing in the doorway, tie loosened and his briefcase still in his hand.

Evie paused in her recitation. “Baked chicken and green beans.” Without waiting for a response, she continued. “Service plate, soup bowl, soup spoon, oyster fork…”

Gwen stepped from behind Evie’s chair. “It’s a teaching set. Every possible fork she might come across. I think Mrs. Gray will let us slide with a smaller setting for tonight.”

She caught the amused smile playing at the corners of Will’s mouth. “Well, that’s good to know.”

“Hey, Will, did you know there’s a special fork just for oysters? I always thought you just picked them up and slurped them out, but Gwen says that’s not the proper thing to do. Did you know that?”

“I think slurping of any sort is against the rules. But how you’d get the slippery little suckers onto a fork is beyond me.” Over Evie’s giggle, he added, “I’m going to take Gwen in the other room for a probably well-deserved drink while you check with Mrs. Gray about what forks she does need on the table.”

Evie balked, and Gwen wondered if she’d ever help set a table before. A look from Will sent her scurrying for the kitchen.

“I’ll come get you guys when it’s time to eat.”

“A drink, Gwen?”

“I’d love one, but not because Evie’s driven me to it. She’s done very well today.”

“That’s good to hear.” Will stepped back and indicated she should lead the way. In the hallway, Will dropped his briefcase on a side table and fell into step beside her. She gasped as his hand went to the small of her back, the warmth seeping through her shirt to heat her skin. She swayed, her balance suddenly off-kilter.

It’s just a polite gesture, nothing more. Still, the shock propelled her the last few feet into the living room and away from his touch.

She took a seat on the long, butter-soft leather sofa and watched as Will poured two glasses of wine from the bar. He handed her a glass and stepped away. She took a sip, glad to see her equilibrium had returned with distance.

Will seemed unaware of her discomfort. He took the wing chair opposite her and relaxed against its back. “I’ve never seen someone so excited about oyster forks and soup spoons.”

“Evie’s just eager to please right now. Everything is new and, therefore, fun. It’ll pass in a few days. Believe me.”

“So you’re settled in okay?” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing in funny spikes. She was still having problems reconciling the Will Harrison from the papers with the one she was seeing in person. The corporate CEO didn’t mesh with the man in front of her, the one who sputtered at the sight of a formal place setting and teased his little sister about oysters.

“Yes, thank you. Your home is lovely.” Funny, this room felt smaller than it did when she and Evie were in here earlier. Polite small talk. Come on, Miss Behavior, you can do small talk. She took another sip of her wine. “Did you have a good day?”

“I guess you could call it that.” Will removed his tie completely and tossed it over the arm of the chair before unbuttoning the top three buttons of his white dress shirt, exposing bronze skin underneath. Although Will continued talking, she wasn’t able to concentrate on his words. Definitely some kind of outdoor activity. The lack of a tan line at the base of his throat meant whatever he did outside, he did it shirtless.

Pull it together. She had no business pondering his shirt- free activities—whatever they might be. She should have known after her reaction to him in his office yesterday that moving in to such close proximity would be a very bad idea. Then she’d compounded the problem by insisting he be home every night for dinner. How long before he fired her for gawking at him? Not only was it extremely bad manners—and she should know—but it was unprofessional as well.

This adolescent mooning had to stop. She was not going down that path again. She’d learned that lesson the hard way. Or at least she thought she had. Obviously her libido was a bit of a slow learner. Maybe it was just because she’d been in a bit of a dating dry spell recently.

Fine. The day after the Med Ball she’d start dating again. She’d let Sarah set her up, hit the bars, try an online site—anything. She just needed to make it until then without making a fool of herself again.

Focus on Evie, and try to forget about her brother. Easier said than done, when even as she promised herself she’d find a man soon, she could still feel his hand on the small of her back like a brand.

Will sat on the balcony, his legs stretched out on the railing and a drink in his hand. The lights of Dallas spread out in front of him, twinkling in the darkness.

Evie and Gwen were both in their rooms and Mrs. Gray had long since gone home, and the apartment had fallen silent. At first, the quiet felt odd; he kept expecting to hear Evie’s stereo or Mrs. Gray banging pots and pans in the kitchen. Funny how quickly he’d adjusted to having people around—Evie, Mrs. Gray and now, Gwen.

The balcony off Gwen’s room angled his, and the glow from behind her curtains meant she was still awake. He’d heard the unmistakable click of computer keys as he walked by earlier. Was she a workaholic, taking advantage of the quiet evening to answer the etiquette questions of the country’s youth? If he knocked on her door, would she join him for a drink on the balcony instead?

When he’d opened the front door, he’d heard Evie’s recitation of flatware and gone to the dining room expecting to find Miss Behavior in full form. He’d been struck speechless instead. Gwen’s sensible suit had disappeared, replaced by a simple sundress that flowed over her curves intriguingly. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, and as she’d passed him in the hallway, he’d caught a faint whiff of lavender.

The scent suited her: elegant, a bit old-fashioned and very feminine. He’d breathed deep and the residual tension of his day eased away. And while Gwen seemed to stay slightly on edge as they chatted, he’d found the wine to be an unnecessary additional relaxant.

He’d been charmed by her at dinner. When he agreed to be home for more family meals, he hadn’t expected to enjoy it so much. Evie’s presence seemed to melt some of the reserve he normally felt from Gwen, and he found her to be well-read and refreshing in her opinions.

And Evie! Gwen may have said it was too early to tell, but he could see the changes in Evie already. She did have natural charm, and under Gwen’s gentle guidance, she was learning how to use it.

The light in Gwen’s room went dark, and he’d missed his chance to offer her a nightcap.

It was probably just as well—getting involved with his sister’s tutor in any way could only cause problems. If he’d learned nothing else from his father’s late-life love affair, he certainly knew the folly of fishing in the company pond. At least the various women Marcus kept pushing at him as potential partners would never cause the same embarrassment Rachel had. They had their own wealth, their own family connections—they didn’t need his in order to climb the social ladder.

Nope, he was better off enjoying the evening alone.

Then why did he have this lingering regret he hadn’t asked her earlier?

CHAPTER THREE

THIS was definitely the way to work.

The guest room of Will’s penthouse had its own private balcony, and Gwen had taken her laptop outside. Looking over the railing from almost twenty floors up had made her feel dizzy, but as long as she stayed away from the railing, she was fine. The small table and chairs had enough room for her computer and paperwork, and she could enjoy the summer breezes while she worked.

Mrs. Gray brought her a small pot of tea and some snacks about the time Evie went downstairs for her tennis lesson, and the apartment was quiet except for the jazz floating from the CD player inside in her bedroom. She loved her little 1920’s cottage and the charm of M Street, but this she could get used to.

She posted her column to TeenSpace and answered a few e-mails. For the most part, she’d been able to either postpone clients or move them to the blocks of time she knew Evie would be with her tutors or at a lesson, but she’d sent a few to a friend and former classmate who did some deb training on the side. The obnoxious sum of money Will was paying her for this job more than covered the loss of income from those few classes.

She was just shutting down her laptop when her cell phone rang.

“You never called yesterday and I’m dying to hear everything.” Her sister sounded as eager as Evie.

“I know. I was busy getting settled in, and Evie and I worked most of the day.” The breeze on the balcony made it hard to hear Sarah, so she went inside and flopped on the sinfully wonderful bed.

“And…”

“The guest room here is nicer than that five-star hotel we stayed at in D.C. last year. The bathroom is the size of my bedroom at home and done completely in marble. The bedroom is huge, and I have my own balcony. It’s incredible.”

“Even the hired help lives the good life, huh?”

“That’s for sure.” Gwen rolled on to her back, felt the down duvet mold itself around her and stared at the hand-painted ceiling. “I swear, I feel like a princess in this room.”

“What about the princess herself?”

“Evie’s not bad at all. A little unsure of herself and the finer points of etiquette, but she’s far from the mess I expected. I’m going to bring her in Friday, if that’s still okay. I think you’ll like her.”

“Friday’s fine. E-mail me her picture and sizes. Now, quit stalling and tell me about the Most Eligible Will Harrison.”

Gwen nibbled on a fingernail as she hedged. “There’s not much to tell.”

“Gwennie!” Sisterly exasperation took over. “Details. Now. I’m holding your cat hostage, you know.”

“Okay, okay. He’s even more handsome than his pictures, and he can be quite charming when he wants to. Trust me, charm is not something the Harrison family lacks.” So it wasn’t the full truth, but Sarah wasn’t ready to hear that Gwen was living with a man who oozed sex appeal. And she wasn’t about to go into the details of what that was doing to her equilibrium. “He’s really good to Evie, too, even though they’re still figuring each other out.”

“I hear a ‘but.’”

“But he’s terse sometimes and always seems to be thinking about something else when I’m talking to him. And if that damn BlackBerry rings one more time, I’ll—”

Sarah’s sigh interrupted her rant. “Not everyone feels the way you do about phones, Gwen. He’s probably a very busy man. BlackBerrys just come with the territory.”

It was her turn to be exasperated. “You know good and well that flesh and blood people—”

“‘Always take priority over any message in any other medium.’ Yes, Gwennie, I know. That speech is getting old, honey.”

“That doesn’t make it any less true.” She knew she sounded huffy and defensive, but she also knew Sarah had been brought up better than that.

“Maybe you should work on some new etiquette rules for this century.”

“The ones we have would work just fine if folks would only follow them.” Sarah started to interrupt again, but Gwen cut her off. “He brought it to dinner.”

“Oh.” Even Sarah’s lax rules on technology use included a moratorium on their presence at the dinner table. Mother had taught them too well. “So Will Harrison needs some work in the cell phone etiquette department. Big deal. He’s handsome and charming and richer than God. You can overlook a couple of flaws.”

“Sarah, I have no business even noticing his flaws. Evie Harrison is my business, not Will.” That needs to become my new mantra.

“So? You’re there. Living in his house. You’re both adults, and you never know…”

Sarah was going to drive her insane. “Forty-eight hours ago you were telling me what a bad idea moving in here was. You’ve switched camps pretty suddenly.”

“I just wanted to make sure you’d thought this whole thing through. Now that you’re there…” She trailed off suggestively. “Anyway, you said you felt like this was the right thing to do. That it was your chance. Maybe it is in more ways than one. Couldn’t hurt to keep your options open.”

“You’re jumping way ahead. Granted, Will is absolutely yummy—”

Sarah perked up. “Yummy? Really?”

Oh, for a different choice of words. Too late now. “This is business—and the future of my business. As you said, I’ve laid a lot of groundwork the last few years. I’m not going to screw everything up again with some silly crush on my boss.”

“So he is crushworthy.”

Gwen wanted to bury her head in the pillows and scream. “This whole conversation is ridiculous. Will Harrison barely knows I’m alive. I’m just someone he hired to tutor his sister. I doubt Evie’s French teacher is having this conversation with her siblings.”

“He didn’t ask the French teacher to move in, now did he?”

Gwen heard the front door slam and the pounding of feet in the hallway. Perfect timing. She sent up a quick word of thanks. “Evie’s back from her tennis lesson. I need to go.”

“But you haven’t told me anything—”

“I’ve got to go. Miss Behavior duty. We’re going to work on introductions and handshakes this afternoon.”

“Oooh, fun.”

“Sarcasm isn’t becoming of a lady, you know. Neither is that,” she added as Sarah made a raspberry noise in her ear. She heard Evie call her name as footsteps approached her room. “I’ll see you Friday, okay?”

“This conversation isn’t over, you know.”

“Yes, it is.”

“At least think about what I said. Don’t let past mistakes color your perception and cause you to miss out on an opportunity.”

“Past mistakes are what’s keeping my perception crystal clear.” Sarah started to grumble again. To keep the peace she added, “But I’ll think about what you said. Bye.” She flipped her phone closed before Sarah had a chance to argue some more.

Sarah went through life like it was some kind of movie—which, for her, it often was. Gwen just needed to remind herself of that so that her sister wouldn’t drive her into therapy or cause her to lose her job. If she limited her calls to Sarah over the next couple of weeks, she’d be able to concentrate much better on the job at hand.

Head in the game. Eyes on the prize. Hands to herself.

That should be easy enough to remember.

“Konichiwa.” His tongue felt too thick to get the word out sounding anything like the voice on the computer lesson. Picking up Japanese in three weeks would be a challenge.

He looked over the notes Nancy had prepared about doing business with the Japanese. The business card thing was no problem; bowing wasn’t that difficult to figure out. But he’d read how making an effort to learn a few words of Japanese—however badly pronounced—would go a long way in creating good feelings.

And good feelings were much needed. Expanding HarCorp’s distribution of its luxury items into Asian markets had been his personal goal for the company for the last three years.

HarCorp’s background was tied in Texas cattle, but the Harrison family didn’t have ranch roots. His great-grandfather opened one of the first tanneries in the area, providing leather to the saddle and boot makers. When the demand for saddles waned, Harrison Tannery changed its name and began supplying leather to the automakers and eventually began supplying leather overseas as well.

The Luxury Goods arm of HarCorp had been a special project of Will’s since he joined the family business. He’d championed it when the entire board had tried to nix the idea. It wasn’t until his father retired that he was able to give it the attention it deserved, but Luxury Goods now showed a larger profit than any other department, and the naysayers were off his back. Now that Harrison Leathers had made a name for itself providing unique, high-quality items, it was time to expand their reach to the newly affluent Asian countries and their growing upper classes. Kiesuke Hiramine was his way into that market. The meeting scheduled for next month would be the make-or-break moment of three years’ hard work.

“Konichiwa,” he tried again. “Dochirahe.”

The intercom on his desk beeped. “Mr. Harrison, are you ready for me now?”

He glanced at his watch. Three-thirty already, and past time for his daily meeting with his assistant. “Come on in, Nancy.”

One second later, Nancy knocked sharply on his door and entered. With her usual efficiency—and he paid her handsomely for it—she went through his calendar and schedule for the immediate future as he signed the stack of papers she laid on his desk.