Melting the Millionaire's Heart (3 page)

“You in mergers and acquisitions or something?” she asked, hoping the question didn’t sound idiotic.

“Yeah, something like that. What about you?”

“I teach special needs kids.”

“Oh, yeah?” He rose now that the fire had caught. “Sounds hard.” He braced one hand on the mantel, the flickering firelight casting gold highlights in his hair and burnishing his skin the color of India pale ale.

“It is, sometimes.”

“What kind of special needs kids?”

“Oh, all kinds of behavioral disorders. Kids on the autism spectrum, with ADHD, dyslexia, dysgraphia, executive function disorders, kids with psychiatric disorders. Fetal alcohol syndrome. All the kids who’ve failed in the public school system. I teach at a place called Horizons. We have a low student-to-teacher ratio that lets these kids get the individual attention they can’t get in a public or traditional private school.”

“Does working with special-needs kids ever get you down?”

“The kids? No, never. The parents get me down sometimes, and the administrators…well, don’t get me started.”

His expression went from polite to avid. “You have bad administrators at your school?”

“No, not bad exactly,” she admitted. “Just too PR-conscious for my taste, and obsessed with fundraising. Too eager to kowtow to anybody with deep pockets.”

His face relaxed. Odd. Why should he care? “You can’t be surprised that a private school is obsessed with fundraising,” he said. “It’s their lifeblood.”

“That’s true. I just hate that part of it all. These kids already have a hard enough time in life because of their challenges. Having to fight tooth and nail for resources for them just makes me angry, especially when guys like this Langford have money to burn.”

“I would imagine that Langford and people like him have a lot of people competing for their money. There are a lot of good causes out there.”

“Also true,” she admitted. “But I suspect he cares about one cause most of all—his own bottom line. That’s how a lot of our big donors are.”

“You’re pretty tough on them. Aren’t you biting the hand that feeds you?”

“Maybe, but I’ve come across too many self-important twits in this job to have any illusions.”

“Okay, but for the sake of argument, money’s money, right? It still spends, no matter what the motivations of the people donating it are.”

“True, but it’s unethical to give money not because people need it, but because you think it’ll burnish your image.”

“Who cares if somebody’s trying to burnish their image?” he said with a shrug. “You can still use the money to hire another teacher or whatever, and that’s a good thing. The kids don’t care what motivated the guy who gave the money. They just like their teacher.”

Maybe he was right. “I guess. God knows, we need the money. A lot of good organizations are competing for limited dollars these days, so we can’t be too picky. I just wish people gave for the right reasons.”

“For the good of the kids.”

“Right.” She paused for a moment. “I suppose that sounds naïve to you.”

He shook his head. “Not naïve. Idealistic, maybe. But then again, a teacher should be idealistic. You wouldn’t want to be a hard-headed businessman. Like me,” he said with a laugh. “That kind of mentality doesn’t work for a teacher, I’m sure.”

“Yeah. It would be hard to get up and go to work every day if I didn’t believe I could really make a difference in the life of a kid who needs help.”

“What made you want to become a teacher?”

“My mom’s a teacher at a public school. She loves kids, and I guess I just took after her. She raised my sister and me with the notion that we needed to give something to the world, not just take. My sister became an RN, and I went into teaching. I didn’t start out intending to work with special needs kids, but when I was doing my student teaching and saw how great the need was, it blew me away.” She tilted her head and studied him. “I’m surprised that you’re so interested in what I do.”

He shrugged. “It’s an interesting topic.”

“What about your job?” He’d shown an interest in her work, and she found herself genuinely curious about him and how he spent his days. “It must be exciting, traveling everywhere, getting to know different kinds of people and experiencing different cultures.”

“Yeah, getting to know different types of airports and hotel rooms, trying to find Wi-Fi in foreign countries, experiencing conference rooms on several different continents, sitting through boring meetings, waiting for everything to be translated through my headset.”

She smothered a laugh. “Are you saying you’re all work and no play on these trips?” She found it hard to imagine him tied up in business meetings all day. “You must be a pretty important guy.”

He rolled his eyes. “Please. No one is irreplaceable, including me.”

She suspected he was understating his own importance at his company. After all, flunkies didn’t travel constantly and have trouble tearing themselves away from the boardroom, but she liked him better for his humility.

He sat down next to her, his leg brushing against hers through the blanket.

“Do you want to share my blanket?” she offered.

“Sure.” He lifted the blanket and joined her, sliding over until his thigh pressed against hers. The rough denim brushed her bare leg and her heartbeat went to double-time. He put his arm behind her on the back of the sofa. Not touching her, just resting there, ready to touch her at any moment, if she got lucky.

The scent of lime and something else—vanilla, maybe?—caught her nose. His shampoo, she guessed, breathing in the clean scent. His face only improved upon closer acquaintance: dark brows, a strong jaw, and a nose that hinted at a Gallic ancestor somewhere in the family tree.

“You smell nice. What is that, plumeria?”

“Plumeria?” He frowned. “I have no idea what that is. You’re probably smelling my aftershave, though.”

“I noticed some plumeria shower gel in the bathroom. Does that belong to your girlfriend then?” She was being as subtle as a rhino, but she had to know.

His face cleared. “Oh, that. It was a gift from my mom. I never really liked it, so I stuck it in the downstairs bathroom.”

Okay, plausible, but it still didn’t tell her what she wanted to know. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No,” he said with a smile. “If you wanted to know, why didn’t you just ask?”

Good question. “I wanted to see what you’d say about the shower gel, if you’d lie about it.”

His smiled disappeared. “You know, I could lie about not having a girlfriend as easily as I could lie about a bottle of shower gel.”

Well, then. Such directness called for directness in return. Suppressing a shiver, she pulled the blanket tight around her middle. “Are you lying about not having a girlfriend?”

“No.” So simple, a one-word answer any guy would blurt out in a similar situation, yet she believed him.

He swept a wisp of her hair back. The backs of his fingers glanced against her cheek, and she fought the impulse to turn and kiss them.

“I’m glad,” she said softly, letting her eyes roam over his handsome face.

“Do you like what you see?”

She rolled her eyes. “Please. Does that line usually work?”

He laughed. “I don’t know. You’re the first girl I’ve tried it on.”

“I don’t believe you.” My God, had she just pouted sexily? This man was bringing out all kinds of feminine wiles she’d never known she had.

“You should, because it’s true.” He leaned in.

He’s going to kiss me
.

His lips brushed across hers like a whisper, soft and sweet, but pulled away much too soon. She leaned into him to follow his mouth. A low chuckle rumbled through his chest where her hands had somehow ended up, resting discreetly near his shoulders. No slutty wandering of the hands toward his nipple for her, no sirree. Not yet, anyway. She had standards. No nipple-groping until the third kiss at least.

He met her kiss halfway, letting his lips drift open. “Mmm,” she sighed. His lips tasted just as good as they looked, mostly of coffee but also faintly of some flavor that she imagined belonged just to him. She closed her eyes, savoring the brush of his sandpaper cheek against her face. God, did anything speak more of a man and woman coming together than a stubbled cheek against soft skin?

She tilted her head and he took great advantage of it. He moved in for the kill, taking her in a kiss as powerful as it was tender. Desire erupted in her, faster and hotter than ever before. She’d meant to take this slow, enjoy a nice leisurely kiss, maybe cuddle and chat for a while, but the fire he’d ignited made patience impossible. She wanted more, now. He felt the same, if his heartbeat hammering under her fingertips meant anything. She felt him shift and then one hand was at the hem of her blouse.

Dimly, the part of her that wasn’t jumping up and down in glee over tonight’s turn of events realized that he was about to slide his hand up her shirt. Was she okay with that?

While her brain thought it over, her body went ahead and decided for her, melting into him with a sigh. Yes, she was definitely okay with it. He eased away from her lips and flicked her bra open. She sighed as he ran his fingertips along the silky skin over her spine. She arched like a cat. The action pushed her breasts hard against his chest, and she reveled in the touch she’d wanted desperately without even knowing it.

His hand moved around her rib cage and she leaned back to give him access to her breasts. “Is that a hint?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.” She was beyond embarrassment. Her body hadn’t gotten this kind of expert attention in…ever, and she wasn’t about to deny herself what she craved now.

She squeezed her eyes shut, dying for the feel of his lovely hands on her breasts, when an electrical buzz interrupted the quiet. His hand froze. Her eyes flicked open. She wanted that hand to resume its torturously slow path to her nipple and give her what she needed.

“Shit,” RJ muttered. She blinked. That was not the sound of a man swept away by passion.

“What?”

“The power went out.”

She looked around. The floor lamp had gone dark, and the house was utterly silent except for the crackling fire. No hum of a refrigerator or furnace. “So? We don’t need lights,” she said, and then flushed. Ooo-kay. That had sounded eager, if not desperate.

Don’t mind me,
said her heretofore-undiscovered slutty side
. I don’t care if the house falls down around me as long as I can get my sexy on.

He laughed, which made her blush harder. “If we have no power, we have no heat. I’d better check the breaker box.” He gave her a last kiss and headed toward the back of the house.

Whoa. Time to take a deep breath and settle down. She refastened her bra and pulled the blanket tighter around her. She hated the interruption, but maybe it was for the best. They needed to slow this down a little bit, talk to each other, regardless of how her lady parts felt about the situation.
They
were all for jumping this guy ASAP, but she didn’t let them make important decisions. Did she?

A few minutes later, he returned with a flashlight. “I called a few neighbors. Everybody I talked to said the power is down. And the snow is supposed to last another two to three hours. Even after that, it’ll be a while until the roads out here are plowed. Looks like we’re stranded here for the night,” he said with an apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t how you planned to spend your New Year’s Eve.”

“No, it isn’t,” she said. She felt a slow smile curve across her face. “This is way, way better.”

Chapter Three

RJ responded with a grin that mirrored hers. “I’m glad to hear it. But don’t you think you ought to give your friends a call to let them know?”

“Oh. Yeah, of course. But my phone’s dead. Can I borrow yours?” Embarrassingly enough, he’d bewitched her to the point that she’d forgotten all about the event, Dr. Dunne, Carolyn, and even Ryan Langford, whose rear end she was supposed to be kissing right now.

He returned in a moment with a phone, a high-end model that probably cost way more than hers. His cell phone wallpaper was an abstract artwork with lots of colorful circles and blots—Kandinsky, maybe, or Miro? She always got those two confused. She gave him points for not having a picture of some scantily-clad woman thrusting her boobs at the camera, like Steve had on his phone. Tacky. Nude-woman wallpapers were the cell phone equivalent of silver naked-lady mud flaps, in her opinion. She dialed Carolyn’s number.

“Hey, Carolyn. It’s me.”

“Kayla! Where are you? Are you all right? Whose phone are you calling from? I almost didn’t answer because the read-out just said ‘Private caller.’”

“The guy who gave me a ride loaned me his phone because mine’s dead. I’m fine. He brought me to his house because of the snow emergency. We’re about ten miles from the estate. I’ll have to get my car towed in the morning. It looks like I’m not going to make the event,” she said, in what she hoped was a suitably convincing tone of regret.

“No big deal. Langford’s not here either. He just called his housekeeper and said the roads were all closed and he wasn’t going to make it. I guess he’s going to find a hotel or something. Isn’t that a trip? So we’re all spending the night and we’ll head home once the roads are plowed. Luckily this house is so ginormous, it’s got plenty of room for everybody.”

“That’s a relief. Dr. Dunne can’t get too mad at me if the event’s host didn’t even show, right?”

“Yeah, I think you’re off the hook. He’s too busy mourning his opportunity to kiss ass to be mad at you.”

“Good!” Kayla said, watching RJ go to the fireplace to give it a couple of jabs with the
poker.

“Meanwhile, this place is amazing! You wouldn’t believe this house. And the food…oh. My. God. It sucks being stranded on New Year’s Eve, but if you have to be snowbound, I can’t imagine a better place to do it.”

“I can,” Kayla said. Oops. So much for her convincing show of regret about getting stuck and missing the event. Her words had practically dripped with triumph. Hot, swooning, I might-possibly-get-lucky triumph.

“He’s that hot, huh?” A note of envy crept into Carolyn’s voice.

“Yes.” She watched as RJ knelt and added another log to the fire. He must have guessed she was talking about him, because he sent her a wink that made the back of her neck tingle.

“This is perfect! I’ve been telling you for months now that you need a hot, dirty fling. And this would be ideal! Stranded on New Year’s Eve in a blizzard with a sexy stranger? Oh, my God, girl, it’s like something out of a movie.” She sighed, and Kayla smiled in understanding. “A few hours between the sheets with this guy, and you’ll forget all about Steve.”

“Please don’t mention Steve right now. I would prefer to forget his existence.” She didn’t want Steve the Skeeve’s bad vibes messing up the blissful RJ high she was on right now. “Besides, I’ve told you before, I’m not really that type.”

“What type?”

“You know.
That
type.” Carolyn didn’t respond.

She got up and wandered toward the kitchen. Hopefully RJ would think she was mindlessly pacing and not sneaking off to talk about him. Which she totally was. “The have-sex-with-a-stranger type,” she hissed.

“Of course you are,” Carolyn answered. “All you have to do is decide you are, and presto. You’re the have-sex-with-a-stranger type.”

“It’s not quite that simple.”

“Of course it is. Now what are you doing wasting time on the phone with me when you could be jumping the hottie’s bod? And details, girl, I want details when this is all over.”

“Okay. I’ll call you in the morning. I gotta go, bye.” When hell froze over, she’d give details about this, but she wasn’t getting into that now. She ended the call and wandered back into the parlor. RJ had finished tending the fire and was sitting on the sofa.

“Lucky me,” she told RJ as she handed the phone back to him. “Turns out Langford didn’t show at his own event either. Ironic that most of the people he made drive out in this weather made it and then
he
gets stuck. Good thing, though. Maybe now Dr. Dunne won’t fire me on sight for missing this event.”

“What a coincidence.” He rose quickly and began to poke the fire again.

Had she said something wrong? “You okay?”

He didn’t turn to face her. “Sure, why do you ask?”

“You just poked the fire a minute ago, and now you’re doing it again. I don’t know, you seem…nervous or something.”

“Nah. Just want to make sure the fire doesn’t go out.” She had the feeling he wasn’t telling her something, but whatever. Just because he gave her shelter for the night didn’t mean he had to tell her his whole life story.

“Hey, you hungry?” RJ asked.

“Nah, I’m good,” she answered, and they both laughed when her stomach growled embarrassingly. She’d had her mind on something other than food, but apparently her stomach disagreed. “Well, maybe a little,” she admitted. “I’d planned to eat at the event.”

“I can’t promise you much since I’ve been out of town, but let’s see if I can round up something in the kitchen.”

He led her back to the kitchen, the flashlight casting a narrow beam in the darkness that only added to the intimacy of the moment. “Watch out, there’s a side table along the wall here.”

He steered her around it with his hand on her hip. She stepped closer to him and accidentally brushed the side of her breast against his chest, sending a shimmer of heat across the surface of her skin. Every touch, every look raised her already sky-high awareness of him. She’d never gone this far, this fast physically with a guy she’d just met. Call her old-fashioned in this age of online hookups and friends with benefits, but she was a five-date girl, minimum. Would she be able to hold off going to bed with him tonight? Did she even want to?

Her stomach growled again.

“We need to get you something to eat,” he said with a smile.

“Right,” she agreed.

Food first, hot monkey sex second
.

In the kitchen, he guided her to the fridge and opened it up. As he’d warned, it was pretty empty: jelly, a few beers, a bottle of ketchup, and eggs. “Do you have a gas stove?” she asked.

“No, electric. If we do any cooking, it’ll be over the fireplace.”

“Darn. I give you full props for buying cage-free, but eggs would be tough to cook over a fireplace.”

He opened the deli drawer. “Aha! Hot dogs!”

“Perfect.”

“Let’s check in the pantry to see if we have anything to go with this.”

RJ opened a set of double-doors to a pantry stocked mostly with canned goods, soda, and boxes of mac and cheese. And Metamucil. Three bottles of it. He caught her staring at it. She could see his face redden even in the dimness.

“That’s not mine,” he said quickly. “That’s my dad’s.”

“Your dad keeps three bottles of laxative at your house?” she asked.

“He comes over a lot.”

Commenting on his father’s chronic constipation would be rude, so she took a safer tack. “So they live nearby then?”

“Yeah. My parents and younger brother live not ten miles from my house.”

“You must be a close family.”

“We are. Hey, look. No hot dog buns, but there’s some bread we can use. And marshmallows!” She noticed his obvious effort to change the subject, but she didn’t mind.

“Marshmallows?” Her stomach rumbled again in response. “Got any graham crackers?”

“I think so.” He shuffled a few boxes around. “Yeah, here they are. Why?”

“I happen to have chocolate in my purse, which means we can make s’mores.”

“Really? You just happen to be packing a bar of chocolate?”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “I never go anywhere without a bar of chocolate. I’m a bit obsessed. It’s kind of embarrassing, actually.”

He grinned that open, sexy grin that made her want to eat him up. “Your obsession is our good luck. We can have a cookout indoors, on New Year’s Eve. I think there are a couple of skewers around here somewhere I use for grilling.” He fumbled through a drawer next to the sink. “Here we go.”

“This beats watching the ball drop on TV while my girlfriends and I finish off a bottle of schnapps.”

“That reminds me. I don’t have any champagne, but I think—” He handed her the food he’d gathered and rummaged through a cabinet until he found a bottle. “Here we go,” he said, holding it up for her inspection. “You like Riesling?”

“Sure.”

He grabbed a couple of wine glasses and they made their way through the dark back to the parlor, with a brief detour for Kayla to fetch the chocolate from her purse.

They sat cross-legged in front of the fire. He poured each of them a glass of wine and pierced a couple of hot dogs with a skewer. While he cooked the dogs, she took a few sips of her wine, savoring the bright, clean tang. After only half a glass, she felt warm.

“You okay?” he asked. “Your cheeks are flushed.” He brushed the back of one finger across her cheek and her face flamed warmer.

“Fine. I’m a lightweight when it comes to drinking.”

“Maybe you’d better get something in your stomach, then.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s more than an hour until midnight. Can’t have you dozing off before the main event.”

“True.” What a kind man he was. A lot of guys would be taking advantage of the situation, trying to get her as drunk as possible to improve their odds of getting laid.

“So you usually watch the ball drop with your girlfriends, huh?” he asked. “But not this year. You were headed to that event at the Langford estate.”

“It
definitely
beats that,” she said with a snort.

“So you were dreading it?”

“I was.”

“Why?”

“What’s not to dread? What kind of guy invites everybody out to his estate in the country on New Year’s Eve? On short notice, no less. Did it never occur to him we might have other stuff to do on the holiday? He obviously doesn’t care if he’s inconveniencing other people.” She shook her head. “And the headmaster, Dr. Dunne—he’s so eager to get his hands on the money, he’s more than happy to go along with it. Of course, the fact that the weather turned awful and I wrecked my car didn’t make me any happier about the situation.”

He laughed. “You’re blaming Langford for the weather and your bad driving now?”

“Maybe,” she said with a straight face. “Can I get away with it?”

“No.”

They both chuckled. “All right, all right,” she said, growing serious again. “I don’t blame him for the snowstorm. Or my crash. But I’m still irritated that he dragged us all out here on short notice, on a holiday, no less! Couldn’t he have been a little more considerate?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so hard on this Langford guy. I’ve heard he’s really busy. Maybe this is the only way he can work it into his schedule. The demands on his time and money have got to be crazy.”

Something strange in his voice caught her attention. “Wait a minute. You live ten miles from his estate. You probably know Ryan Langford, don’t you?” Her fingers flew to her mouth. Lord, what had she said? Why would she never learn to think before she spoke? “I’m such an idiot. Is he a friend of yours?”

“I don’t think he has many friends.” He didn’t look at her, devoting all of his attention to turning the skewer. “He was more social when he was younger. He kind of keeps to himself these days, except for his family. This part of the country isn’t exactly known for tech millionaires, or any other kind of millionaires, for that matter. He probably doesn’t feel like he fits in.”

“Yeah. I wonder why he doesn’t pack up and leave. Move to Silicon Valley or someplace. Wherever the Facebook guy lives.”

He smiled slightly. “Zuckerberg? I suspect they don’t have a lot in common either.”

“I suppose a lot of people must be after his money. Like Dr. Dunne, for instance.”

Now he did look at her, his blue eyes glittering. In this light, they looked almost green.

“Not just Dr. Dunne.”

“What do you mean?

He waved off her question. “Nothing important. I mean, Dr. Dunne
is
after his money, but it’s for a good cause, right?”

“The best,” she answered. “There is no better cause than kids in need.”

“That sounds like a great reason to get out of bed every day.”

“It is. Horizons is a great school. It takes the kids who’ve been expelled, passed along from year to year, bullied…the kids who can’t make it in a traditional school, no matter how many accommodations they get. And that’s assuming they can even
get
accommodations. It doesn’t matter what the law says—some traditional schools don’t want to go to the bother. Some parents have to fight tooth and nail to get something simple, like extra time on a test for a kid with ADHD, or a quiet refuge for an autistic child who is over-stimulated. The parents come to us because we understand these kids.”

“Kids like my little brother, Jake.”

She straightened, startled. “Your brother has special needs?”

“He’s autistic.”

The revelation didn’t come easily, she could tell. Small wonder. Few people understood what it was like to care for someone on the autism spectrum, or with another serious behavioral disorder. People often thought they knew, though, and could be quick to judge. Many families just didn’t talk about it.

“Is his autism severe?” she asked. Autism involved a wide range of behaviors, from mild social-skills impairment to profound communication disorders, intellectual disabilities, aggressive behavior, and chronic self-harm.

“Could be worse. He communicates verbally fairly well now, after years of therapy, and loves to draw. Jake’s very talented, actually. He’ll never live on his own, though. He lives with my parents. When they get too old to care for him, he’ll move in with me.”