Matchless Millionaires: An Improper Affair

Six

When they got to the lodge, Ryan pulled into the garage and got Kelly upstairs to the guest suite next to the master bedroom.

Once there, she sat on the bed and looked around. “This room is so pretty. I hope I can do as good a job with the rooms I’m decorating.”

“I’m sure you will,” he reassured her.

“Do you think so?” she asked hopefully.

He nodded.

There was not much else he could say. The room they were in looked fine to him. Maybe it was because he came from money and took it all for granted, but he’d never been too interested in the aesthetics of his surroundings.

He regarded Kelly. “Are you okay getting undressed and into bed by yourself?”

She flopped back onto the bed so that she was lying in it. “Of course.”

He sighed, then reached out and grasped her hands to pull her back to a sitting position. “Okay, sweetness, let’s really get you ready for bed.”

With her cooperation, he got her shoes off, tugged off her skirt and breathed a sigh of relief when it turned out she was wearing a strapless bra beneath her halter top.

Undressing her was pure torture. He was just glad she was too tired and inebriated to turn up the heat on him even more.

“I’m just like my mother,” she said as he tossed her clothes onto a nearby chair.

He stopped because her comment came out of nowhere. “What?”

She looked forlorn. “I’m being undressed by a man I met in a bar.”

He wanted to point out that they’d known each other before tonight and that he had no intention of taking her to bed—he just wanted to put her in one.

“No matter how hard I try,” she said sorrowfully, “I can never escape my mother’s past.”

Now that he could relate to. Hell, he’d been trying to escape his legacy for more years than he could count.

Aloud, he said, trying to offer some solace, “You’re not the only one.”

He pulled back the bedcovers and she slid her legs underneath them. Without delay, he tugged the covers up, hiding her tantalizing body from view.

She sank back against the pillows and closed her eyes, and he expelled a breath.

In a moment, however, her eyes opened again. “You forgot to take off my bra.”

He clenched his jaw. “I didn’t forget.” He mentally ran through explanations. “There are no pajamas here for you to wear, so you’ll have to sleep in your bra.”

The logic wasn’t great, but he hoped in her current foggy state, she’d let it pass.

“Hmm,” she said, and in the next second, sat up and reached behind her.

Her luscious breasts sprang free.

He couldn’t help himself. He took it all in hungrily.

Her breasts were round and firm and capped with tight, dusky pink nipples.

Kelly dropped the bra to the side and lay back down, pulling up the covers as she did so.

“I’ve never had a man look at them like that before,” she murmured, her eyes drifting closed. “But then, I’ve never been to bed with a man before, either.” After a moment, she added more faintly, “Well, one guy. Once or twice. But he didn’t stay the night.”

His mind churned with questions, but her peaceful expression told him she’d fallen asleep.

She had dropped quite a few bombshells on him tonight, but damned if she hadn’t left the biggest for last.

Kelly woke with a headache.

She moaned and pressed her head into the pillow.

Some of the events of the night before came back and she reflected that she’d drunk more at the White Fir than she’d ever put back at one go in her life.

Making a note to herself that those apple martinis were potent stuff, she finally opened her eyes and looked around.

It took a moment to register she was in the already-furnished guest suite at the lodge.

Her heart seized and she bolted to a sitting position … then moaned again and cupped her forehead.

Ryan had driven her back to the lodge.

With dread, she peered under the covers, and discovered she was naked except for her panties.

She groaned, remembering how she had bared her breasts to Ryan, and how he had fixed his searing gaze on them.

How was she ever going to look him in the eye again? Last night made the kiss they’d shared in one of the lodge’s bedrooms seem insignificant in comparison. She had bigger problems to think about now—starting with needing to get to work.

She checked the bedside alarm clock. It was seven. Enough time, she thought with relief, for her to get out of here, home to change and then to work at Distressed Success.

Her mind skittered across the fact that she wasn’t sure she remembered everything she’d said and done last night. What if she’d forgotten something significant?

She winced, then willed herself out of bed and got in the shower. Fortunately, the adjoining bathroom was stocked with towels and toiletries, and the shower helped clear her head.

Afterward, stepping back into the bedroom, she threw on the previous evening’s clothes because she had nothing else to wear. She left her panties off, however, and stuffed them in her purse.

She reflected that she really was turning into her mother if she was walking around without underwear.

She shook off the thought as she towel dried her hair. Last night was an aberration. She was going to go home and resume life as usual.

But first she had to get out of here without a confrontation with Ryan.

When she was done fixing her hair and straightening up the bedroom, she slung her purse over her shoulder, took a deep breath and headed toward the door.

Outside in the hallway, she found herself tiptoeing without meaning to.

She told herself that she didn’t want to awaken Ryan if he was still asleep. It was only after seven in the morning. Closer to eight, really, but who was around to quibble with her?

She stole down the stairs, then crept toward the front entrance.

“Good morning.”

She jumped and turned.

Ryan stood there, an amused expression on his face. He was holding a cup of coffee, and looked relaxed and showered.

“Er—good morning.”

He was dressed in jeans and a gray T-shirt, and looked not only clean, but refreshed. It wasn’t fair, she reflected, that he should look so put together, while she felt rumpled and tawdry.

“You weren’t leaving without saying goodbye, were you?” Then without waiting for an answer, he added, “Coffee?”

She regarded him suspiciously because he looked to be in a good mood.

He should be furious with her. He’d definitely seemed so last night. She had gotten wasted, hit on another guy and given him the cold shoulder. Then he’d had to drive her home.

“Um, thanks,” she responded, “but I’d prefer just to head home.”

He looked her over. “You’re looking good this morning … all things considered.”

She wanted to tell him that her outfit felt like dessert: Some things were best indulged in before regrets took hold.

His eyes came back to hers and now she could see the flicker of amusement in their depths. “I guess you didn’t have a choice but to jump back into last night’s clothes.”

She looked down at what she was wearing, trying to brazen it out. “What, this? I find a halter top a freshening change from work clothes, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he murmured, then looked at her purse. “I guess the underwear is optional.”

She followed his gaze and realized with embarrassment that her panties peeked out of her open bag.

Could life get any more humiliating?

“No underwear,” he said wickedly. “Just how I like it.”

She flushed. He was enjoying teasing her, and unfortunately she was giving him the reaction he wanted.

He seemed to be flirting with her, though that didn’t make sense.

Last night, she’d proven every preconception he’d had of her and then some. She’d acted like her mother and worse.

“Aren’t you angry at me?” she blurted.

He tilted his head. “What for?”

“For last night,” she tossed out. “I had too much to drink and you had to get me—” she almost said home, but caught herself “—back from the bar.”

There had been more to last night than merely getting drunk, of course, but she left the rest unsaid.

He shrugged. “We all make mistakes. I may have been too harsh.”

“You mean, last night?”

He shook his head. “Since running into you at Distressed Success.”

A strange skittishness seized her at his admission, but she attributed it to vestiges of her flirtation with the wild side the evening before.

“How much do you remember about last night?” he asked.

The answer seemed to matter to him. “More or less all of it,” she hedged.

“Everything?” he probed.

“Enough to know we didn’t sleep together!” She was sure she’d remember that much.

He looked at her thoughtfully, then seemed to switch gears, lightening up and nodding toward the back of the house.

“C’mon,” he said. “I’ll fix you a cup of coffee, then drive you.”

She sighed. “Okay.”

She couldn’t protest too much. The way her head felt, coffee sounded wonderful.

As they walked toward the back of the house, he asked, “How were you planning to get back, by the way? Your car’s back at the tavern.” He smiled briefly. “Or were you planning to strand me by carjacking my car?”

“I knew there were a couple of mountain bikes in the garage,” she responded reluctantly.

He looked at her inquiringly.

“I was planning to bike to the gas station down the road,” she elaborated, “and then call a cab service to take me home.”

He grinned. “You were going to ride a bike wearing a skirt and no underwear?”

She felt herself blush. “I admit it wasn’t one of my better ideas.”

Minutes later, they got into his car, coffee in hand, and began the drive over to the tavern.

“What about grabbing some breakfast nearby?” he asked.

“I need to get Distressed Success open by ten.” His attitude had changed completely this morning, and she still wasn’t sure what to make of it.

He glanced at her. “You’re the boss. Give yourself permission to show up late.”

She cupped her forehead and joked weakly, “I think my interlude of acting irresponsibly ended last night.”

“Coffee, and lots of it,” he advised, then added, “What about dinner tonight then? You mentioned Clearwater’s once and I haven’t tried it.”

She hesitated. “Thanks, but—”

“—you want to thank me for putting you to bed last night?”

She couldn’t argue there. “All right,” she said, giving in.

“I’ll pick you up. Seven, okay?” “Perfect.”

Less than two hours later, Kelly arrived at Distressed Success just on time. After Ryan had driven her back to the White Fir Tavern, she’d driven home, changed and made her way to the shop.

She watched as Erica pulled up in her car just as she got the front door open.

“Hi,” Erica said as she came in moments later. “You’re right on time.”

“You sound surprised,” Kelly responded, flicking on some lights.

Erica gave her a look of open curiosity. “Well, I admit to wondering how last night went….”

“You mean, my moment of glory as the red-haired sex goddess?”

Erica grinned. “Even Greg was surprised, and, let me tell you, after two kids and twenty years in the fire department, it takes a lot to shock that man.”

“I got completely and utterly inebriated.”

Erica’s eyes widened. “Drunk?”

“I was a drinking virgin until last night,” she confirmed grimly, putting down her purse and taking off her jacket.

Erica looked at her closely. “Well, you don’t look too much the worse for wear.”

“Thanks to coffee, and lots of it,” she responded, echoing Ryan’s earlier statement.

“I knew we should never have left you! I said as much to Greg, but he said Ryan was around to keep an eye on you.”

“Oh, he kept an eye on me all right,” she said ominously, remembering the way he’d gotten an eyeful of her breasts. “He drove me back to the lodge—” Erica’s mouth fell open “—and put me to bed in one of the guest suites.”

Erica gave a laughing gasp.

Unflinchingly, she went on with the rest of the story. “I tried to sneak out this morning, but he heard me, plied me with coffee and drove me back to my car—which was still parked in front of the White Fir—and completely failed to take advantage of me in the process.”

“Good gracious!”

Kelly sucked in a breath. “I set out to make a point and I fell flat on my face—“

“No, not completely,” Erica said, shaking her head. “Instead of confirming you’re like your mother, last night might just as well have convinced him of the opposite. After all, you couldn’t hold your liquor—” Erica gave her a semiapologetic smile “—and you didn’t leave the bar with anyone. I mean, other than Ryan.”

Kelly frowned. “He ran the guy off.”

Erica raised her eyebrows. “Ryan ran off a guy you were talking to?”

“Not talking to,” she corrected. “Flirting with. And yes, he ran him off, though he denied it. I don’t know what he said to Tate.”

At least she thought his name had been Tate. Last night continued to be a headache in more ways than one.

Erica laughed. “I ought to tell you my story of Greg running off a guy I was flirting with soon after we met.”

Kelly sighed and Erica looked at her sympathetically.

“Is it possible that Ryan isn’t the black-hearted ogre you think he is?” Erica asked. “Greg liked him.”

“Greg’s a guy.” Then she admitted, “Ryan was extraordinarily nice this morning. I couldn’t really understand why …”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“He wanted to have dinner tonight at Clearwater’s.”

“And you said?” Erica asked.

“I said yes.”

Seven

That night, using directions Kelly had given him, Ryan discovered that Kelly lived in a town house midway between the lodge and Distressed Success.

Her place was in an older development, with a parking space out back and a neat little garden in front.

He rang the doorbell, and when she opened the door, he felt the air whoosh out of him.

She wore a bottle-green velvet jacket that gathered under her breasts and revealed plenty of cleavage. A slim brown skirt and knee-high, high-heeled boots completed her outfit.

He was glad now that he’d dressed more formally for tonight. He had on beige pants and a striped dress shirt beneath his blazer.

“You look fantastic,” he said as his eyes ate her up.

She smiled at him and stepped aside. “Come on in. I just need to grab my purse.”

When he’d stepped inside, he immediately realized her house was a showcase for Distressed Success’s style.

The front door led directly into a large room with a living-room area at one end and a dining room at the other. A kitchen sat off to one side.

The dining room had a table and sideboard in some sort of distressed finish. A chandelier with multicolored beads that reflected the light hung above the table.

The living room contained a sofa and love seat at right angles to each other. They were covered with a profusion of pillows in different prints and shapes. An etched-glass cabinet stood against one wall and a fireplace was set in another. A tasseled rug partially covered the wood floor.

“If your decorating project at the lodge turns out as well as your house,” he said, turning toward her, “I’d say you’re well on the path to success.”

“Distressed Success,” she deadpanned.

“Is there any other?” he countered.

She smiled. “I’d offer to show you the rest of the house, but I think we’ll be late.”

Looking into her eyes, he said, “Next time.”

The moment drew itself out between them and he could tell she was thinking about what meaning to attach to his words.

All of them, he wanted to tell her.

Kelly cleared her throat, breaking the mood. “Let me just turn off the lights and make sure I’ve got my house keys.”

As she switched off lamps, he reflected that she’d surprised him last night and proven him wrong, and he wasn’t a man used to being surprised—or wrong.

She’d only slept with a guy once or twice. She’d floored him with the admission, though she’d given no sign since that she even remembered what she’d said.

He realized now that she must have been even more affected by growing up with Brenda Hartley than he’d been by being Webb Sperling’s son.

Last night she’d even referred to not being able to shake off her mother’s history. Now he knew how it had affected her in surprising ways.

Of course, it all meant he’d been wrong about her—wrong to accuse her of being like her mother and wrong to think he had her all figured out.

Sure, the way she’d dressed and acted last night had been at odds with her sexual inexperience, but she seemed to have set out to teach him a lesson.

She’d said she was just living up to the behavior he expected of her. Or just maybe, he mused, it was the behavior she was expecting of herself that she had fought against.

It also occurred to him now that she might have gotten her start as a designer by making the most of a modest budget while she was growing up. His recollection was that Brenda Hartley was not supposed to have had much money, and rumor around town was that she’d also been an indifferent parent.

When Kelly drifted back to his side, he asked,

“Ready?” She smiled. “Yes.”

On the drive over to Clearwater’s, they chatted casually about local events. When they got to restaurant, he made sure they were shown to a table with a prime view of the twinkling lights on and around Lake Tahoe.

They talked about innocuous subjects such as the weather and skiing. She’d learned to ski only when she’d moved to Tahoe, he discovered, while he did black-diamond runs to work off steam.

After the waiter arrived and they’d placed their order—she, a salad and veal française, he, a shrimp cocktail and the surf and turf—he sat back and contemplated her.

She had extraordinary features. Her bone structure was exquisite and the combination of full lips and hazel eyes with shades of topaz added a hint of exoticism.

“Why are you staring at me?” She looked back at him with a hint of uncertainty.

“You’re beautiful,” he said simply. In her case, it was a statement of fact, not flattery.

She looked as if she didn’t know how to react. “Thank you,” she said eventually.

“I also think you’re not completely happy with the fact,” he added.

Her eyes lowered to hide her expression. “I don’t know what you mean.”