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Matchless Millionaires: An Improper Affair
Matchless Millionaires: An Improper Affair
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Matchless Millionaires: An Improper Affair

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Kelly nodded. “I met with Meri again yesterday, briefly toured the rooms of the house that need decorating and signed a contract.”

She and Erica had been discussing the lodge ever since the caretaker for the mysterious home—a woman named Meri—had walked into Distressed Success, taken a look around and talked to them about decorating some empty bedrooms.

Meri, a good-looking woman with an incisive mind, had been short on details about the lodge. It wasn’t until Kelly had met with her on Erica’s day off yesterday that she’d gotten any real particulars about the house—luxurious even by Tahoe standards—about which speculation had been rife among the locals during the nearly twelve months it had taken to build it.

“For some reason the lodge is now being transformed into a restorative place for cancer patients and survivors,” she said to Erica.

Erica raised her eyebrows. “The plot thickens.”

“Officially,” she went on, “Distressed Success has been hired by the Hunter Palmer Foundation, which got the original building permits. The home has never been fully furnished, and now that it’s going to be a restorative place, they need to complete the decor ASAP.”

Erica cocked her head. “Why aren’t they going with the original decorator?”

“The original firm is too busy right now to take on any more business.” And happily, she’d turned out to be the beneficiary of the scheduling difficulty. “Meri wants this project completed in the next few weeks in order to cause as little inconvenience as possible to any future occupants.”

Erica’s brow furrowed. “Lots of work for you.”

Kelly gave her a game smile. “No sacrifice is too great where Distressed Success is involved.”

“You’ve got to lighten up,” Erica grumbled.

“I will. After I put the success in Distressed Success. I want the Distressed Success name in every bathroom, every bedroom, every living room—“

Erica rolled her eyes. “Good grief. I’m working for a megalomaniac.”

Kelly stopped and grinned. She’d almost forgotten how badly her day had started. Almost. “Sorry. I got carried away.”

“So when do you start?”

“I’m visiting the lodge on Sunday, since the shop is closed then. Meri gave me the key to the front door yesterday. She shuttles back and forth to Los Angeles, and she wanted to make sure I’d have easy access. The house will have an occupant for the coming month, but he’s been told about the decorating project.”

Meri had been tight-lipped about who had been using the lodge, but rumor among the locals was that a man had stayed there in March, another in April and a third in May. Kelly assumed they’d been vacationers who’d paid to rent the place, and that the man due to check in this weekend was there for a similar stay.

“Do you need me to come along?” Erica asked.

Kelly shook her head. “Sunday is your time with the kids. Meri hired Distressed Success because we’re local and this project needs to be done fast. Now that I’ve seen the lodge, I think I know what she’s looking for.”

Sunday couldn’t come too soon for her. She was relishing diving into a new project. Just let Ryan Sperling try to stomp on her dreams!

Sunday morning, Kelly got up early and drove over to the lodge.

Although decorating the house would eat into her leisure time, she was eager to have another venue to showcase her designs. She had no illusions about how competitive the home-decor market was and she’d already spent years improving her designs.

As she got out of her car, she looked up at the famed log-and-stone house. At 9000 square feet, with a soaring sloped roof suspended on thick log columns, the home would surely satisfy any millionaire’s luxury tastes. Multistoried, with covered decks on the main level, the house sloped down to the water on one side and had a spectacular view of Lake Tahoe.

Her feet crunched on the ground in front of her as she crossed to the house and traversed the porte cochere to the front entrance.

It didn’t look as if anyone was at home, but she rang the doorbell a few times anyway. She waited a moment and, when she received no response, she let herself in with the key Meri had given her.

Stepping into the great room, she caught her breath, impressed all over again. A massive fireplace dominated one wall and large armchairs stood before it. An immense metal chandelier was suspended from the vaulted ceiling, which was braced with wood beams. Windows and French doors afforded a wonderful view of the lake, which glittered under the gaze of the morning sun, the sunlight catching and sparkling like so many diamonds scattered across the waves.

She turned around and looked back at the grand staircase that led to the upper level, where Meri had told her the master suite and guest bedrooms were located. Only two of these rooms had been furnished so far.

Hearing a click, she whirled around, realizing she was no longer alone.

“What the hell—”

Ryan Sperling, naked except for a gray towel riding low on his hips, stood silhouetted by the French doors leading to the deck outside. Droplets of water clung to his torso. Ryan’s expression was thunderous, and Kelly sucked in a breath.

She drank in the sight of his smooth, muscled chest, flat stomach and hair-roughened legs, which ended at feet planted firmly on the plush carpeting.

She knew from her first tour with Meri that there was a hot tub on the deck. He must have been soaking in it.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I—” Shock rendered her momentarily speechless.

“If this is some desperate attempt to try to persuade me that Sperling department stores should be doing business with you,” Ryan sneered, “forget it.”

She couldn’t believe his ego. He’d already informed her that he didn’t have anything to do with Webb these days. Did he really think she’d seek him out as a supplicant for any leverage he could provide as far as getting her products into Sperling department stores? Apparently so.

Ryan’s expression darkened even more. “If this is some sort of entrapment scheme, I’ve got some of the best lawyers in the country on retainer.”

Her temper rose. “Not to worry. Entrapping you is the last thing on my mind.”

He scowled. “How did you track me down?”

“Easy,” she retorted, “I just followed the trail of fawning women.”

He smiled mirthlessly. “I’ve got news for you. Women don’t faint for me, they just press their phone numbers into my hand. But this is the first time one’s gotten into my house unannounced.”

“You’ll have a hard time tossing me out,” she said, letting a note of satisfaction creep into her voice.

“Why’s that?”

“I’m the newly hired decorator.”

Three

Ryan figured if he kept talking, he wouldn’t get turned on.

Little Miss Sweet and Tart was the last woman he’d expected to discover inside the house, even if he’d had one heck of an erotic dream about her last night. In fact, for a second, when he’d first seen her, he figured he must still be dreaming.

He’d been ticked off this morning when he’d realized whom he’d been fantasizing about and that, combined with his current effort to hold those memories at bay, made him brusque.

“Meri said a decorator would be coming by,” he said icily, “but she also said whoever it was would ring the doorbell if she did.”

“I did ring the doorbell,” Kelly said defensively, “but I got no response.”

“I was in the hot tub,” he snarled, “and I didn’t hear you. Then when I did, it took me a minute to get inside to answer the door.”

“Clearly.”

Great, Ryan thought. It was the first time he’d had a chance to relax in a hot tub since he didn’t know when, and now he had to deal with her.

It didn’t help she was wearing some ridiculous getup that nevertheless managed to be provocative. She had on a white crewneck T-shirt, a long, highwaisted black skirt and black suspenders. The outfit was finished off with midcalf-length black leggings and black pumps.

Her generous breasts were framed by the high waist of the skirt and by the black suspenders. Damn.

“I rang three times,” she said.

“I heard only two.”

Her chin came up. “Are you suggesting I’m a liar?”

He smiled mirthlessly. “The apple usually doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“Same thing goes.” She craned her neck. “Anyone out there with you?”

He frowned. “No.”

She stopped trying to see outside and gave him a cool look. “Well, I’m surprised.”

She went beyond irritating, he decided. And what’s more, if she was the decorator, then she’d be hanging around the entire time he was here. The realization came as a blow.

“I didn’t see a car,” she said.

“It’s in the garage.”

“Oh.”

He raked his hand through his hair. “How long is this damn decorating job supposed to last?”

Her lips tightened. “For several weeks, at least. And please try not to refer to it as ‘this damn’ anything. Some of us have to work or starve.”

“Or depend on the generosity of our friends,” he sneered.

He figured Brenda Hartley’s daughter could spot a sugar daddy as well as, if not better than, her mother. The two certainly looked alike. The pair shared the same voluptuous figure and dark-red hair—and the same siren voice calling men to their doom.

“Let’s keep family out of this,” she snapped.

“Can’t,” he responded. “You’re trying to shake some more fruit from that tree.”

“It’s a business deal!”

“Nothing for Webb Sperling is merely business when an attractive woman is involved.”

Her mouth fell open. “Are you suggesting I’m putting out?”

He raised his eyebrows and she sucked in an outraged breath.

“I don’t put out for anyone,” she bit out. “Besides, if the newspapers are to be believed, you’re just one of many family members who owns a minority interest in Sperling, Inc., so there’s not much you can do about my contract with Sperling stores.”

“It’s not a contract yet, sugar.”

Despite her bravado, he sensed her worry he might be able to do something to cause her deal with Webb Sperling to fall through. The hardened business executive in him knew better than to tip his hand, however.

“Look,” she said, “I don’t like this arrangement any more than you do. Let’s just agree to stay out of each other’s way. Next time, I’ll ring the doorbell until someone responds or call in advance or whatever.”

“Nice to hear, but there won’t be a next time.” He picked up the cordless phone sitting nearby. “I’m calling the caretaker and getting this project postponed or, better yet, cancelled.”

The longer he stood in front of her nearly naked, the harder it was to keep thoughts of sex at bay, which fueled his ire, both at her and at himself.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, hurrying forward.

She stopped an arm’s length away, visibly fuming as he dialed the cell number Meri had given him.

When Meri picked up after a couple of rings, Ryan spelled out the problem, his eyes on Kelly.

“But I don’t understand,” Meri said. “I explained the decorating project to you previously by phone, and you had no problem with it.”

“That was before I knew who you’d hired. Ms. Hartley and I have—” how the hell was he supposed to describe it? “—a history. Or rather, we don’t, but a couple of family members do.”

He had no idea why he was protecting the old man by not bringing his name directly into it. The bastard deserved to have his dirty laundry aired.

“Just think of us as friends of the bride and groom, respectively, after there’s been a divorce,” he told Meri smoothly, regaining some of his cool. “We’re on two different sides of the fence.”

The caretaker sighed. “Unfortunately, it’s out of my hands. Ms. Hartley’s been hired by the Hunter Palmer Foundation. The timeline for getting this decorating job done has been spelled out because we wanted to inconvenience the guests as little as possible. By the time you get all this sorted out with the lawyers for the Foundation, your stay will be over. I’m sorry.”

Damn it. Into the phone, he said curtly, “Understood.”

When he hung up, Kelly asked apprehensively,

“Well?”

He contemplated her for a moment. “You’re here for the duration—” She looked relieved.

“—just make sure to stay out of my way. I want you to let me know when you’re showing up—and ring the damn doorbell!”

With those words, he stomped out of the room and up the staircase to the master suite so he could get some clothes on.

His stay in Tahoe was getting off to a rotten start. First, running into Kelly Hartley, and now finding out she’d be wandering around the lodge for the month.

And attending a wedding yesterday hadn’t helped.

Having grown up observing his parents’ bad marriage, Ryan had never been one for wedding celebrations. Still, he hadn’t been able to say no when Dev had asked him to act as his best man. He knew he would have to go to Tahoe anyway to begin his month-long stay at the lodge.

Though even a harsh cynic about happily-ever-after like himself had to admit that Nicole and Dev were well matched, yesterday’s wedding was about as close as he ever wanted to come to the altar.