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Exposed: Her Undercover Millionaire
Michelle Celmer
‘Appearances could be deceiving…’Intending to expose his enemy’s foundation as a fraud meant Brandon Dilson must pose as a charity case. In reality, the laid-back ranching magnate knew all about success. It was an exquisite irony that the foundation sent him to an image consultant. And a delicious bonus that she was the gorgeously buttoned-up Paige Adams.For this self-made career woman, their wild affair was as ill-advised as it was inevitable. Not only had she mixed business with pleasure, she was about to find out she’d fallen for a too-attractive imposter. But Paige had a surprise for Brandon, as well – one that might alter the course of their lives… The Takeover For better, for worse. For business, for pleasure. These tycoons have vowed to have it all!
‘So, let’s do it,’ Brandon said.
Do it? Paige sucked in a quiet breath. She hadn’t said that out loud, had she? No, of course she hadn’t. Was he some sort of mind reader?
‘E-excuse me?’
‘You said we had to fit me for a tux, didn’t you? Let’s go.’
Oh, the tux. ‘Yes, right. Of course.’
‘What did you think I meant?’
Paige refused to answer on the grounds that it would mortify her.
Dear Reader,
My husband teases me relentlessly, because while I’m working on a book, for those eight weeks or so, the characters become living, breathing people to me. I talk about them as if they are real, because to me they are. They share dinner with us, come up during our favourite television shows.
I first meet these characters when I plot the book. The relationship is very superficial at that point. I know where they’re from, what they do for a living, where they went to school—basic stuff. When I begin writing the story, gradually I learn more about them, but they don’t always make it easy.
Take Brandon for instance. He was so busy trying to hide his true identity from Paige that I had a hard time getting a read on him. I knew he was Ronald Worth’s son, and Emma’s brother. I knew he was very bitter toward his father, but I didn’t really know why. And every time I thought I had him figured out, he would do or say something to completely confuse me! In fact, he kept me and Paige guessing all the way to the end of the book. I hope you have as much fun figuring him out as we did.
Best,
Michelle
About the Author
Bestselling author MICHELLE CELMER lives in southeastern Michigan with her husband, their three children, two dogs and two cats. When she’s not writing or busy being a mom, you can find her in the garden or curled up with a romance novel. And if you twist her arm really hard you can usually persuade her into a day of power shopping.
Michelle loves to hear from readers. Visit her website, www.michellecelmer.com, or write her at PO Box 300, Clawson, MI 48017, USA.
Exposed:
Her Undercover
Millionaire
Michelle Celmer
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my readers
Don’t miss a single book in this series!
The Takeover
For better, for worse. For business, for pleasure.
These tycoons have vowed to have it all!
Claimed: The Pregnant Heiress by Day Leclaire
Seduced: The Unexpected Virgin by Emily McKay
Revealed: His Secret Child by Sandra Hyatt
Bought: His Temporary Fiancée by Yvonne Lindsay
Exposed: Her Undercover Millionaire by Michelle Celmer
Acquired: The CEO’s Small-Town Bride by Catherine Mann
One
The man had the bluest eyes Paige Adams had ever seen.
Not to mention killer biceps, wide shoulders and the kind of all-American rugged good looks that left women swooning. Herself included. And though she didn’t usually go for men with facial hair, the neatly trimmed mustache and goatee just seemed to work. In fact, she could swear the temperature of her office rose ten degrees the minute her assistant, Cheryl, ushered him inside.
“Paige, this Brandon Dilson,” Cheryl said. “Ana Rodriguez sent him by.”
Paige shut her laptop, smoothed the front of her Kay Unger blazer and darted a glance at her reflection in the chrome pencil holder on her desk to confirm that the chignon she wore her hair in was still neatly in place. And of course, it was. She prided herself on her appearance. As an image consultant, always looking her best was a requirement of the job.
She rose from her chair, pasted on a professional yet warm smile and stuck her hand out. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Dilson.”
He enfolded it in his much larger one, gripping firmly, possessively, and when his ocean-blue eyes locked on hers, and his sexy mouth tilted up into a dimpled smile—God, she loved dimples—she nearly forgot her own name.
His dishwater-blond hair was naturally wavy and a touch shaggy. Long enough to graze his shirt collar. The kind of hair a girl fantasized about running her fingers through. He wore faded jeans, a cobalt blue T-shirt and cowboy boots. And he looked damned good that way.
“The pleasure is all mine, ma’am.” His smile said he meant it.
When Ana, the director of Hannah’s Hope, the local literacy foundation, called to say she was sending over their star pupil for a consultation, a hunky cowboy was the last thing Paige had expected.
Behind him, Cheryl bit her lip and discreetly fanned her chubby face, and Paige knew exactly what she was thinking.
Who is this guy and where can I get one?
“Can I offer you a refreshment, Mr. Dilson?” Cheryl asked. “Coffee, tea, bottled water?”
He turned the smile her way. “No, thank you, ma’am.”
Manners, too. That was nice.
Paige gestured to the chair opposite her desk. “Please, sit down.”
He settled in, folding one long, muscular leg over the other, looking completely at ease. If his literacy issues or lack of education embarrassed or made him feel uncomfortable, he certainly didn’t let it show. The man oozed confidence.
She smoothed her skirt and sat primly on the edge of her chair.
“I think that might be the cleanest desk I’ve ever seen,” Mr. Dilson said, resting his elbows on the chair arms and threading his fingers together over his impressive chest.
“I like to keep things tidy,” she said. Almost to the point of being compulsive about it. If she had a therapist he would probably tell her it was a direct result of her chaotic adolescence. But her past was what it was, and rehashing it to a mental health professional wouldn’t change it.
“I see that,” he said, and something about the way he studied her made her want to squirm in her seat.
“I understand you’ll be honored with an outstanding achieve ment award at the Hannah’s Hope gala later this month. Congratulations.”
“Seeing as how every grade school student can do what I just learned, I don’t see the big deal, but they insisted.”
Gorgeous, polite and humble. Three traits that went well together. There was nothing she detested more than an arrogant man. And she had known her share.
“Did Ana explain to you what it is I do for the foundation?” she asked him.
“Not exactly.”
“I’m an event planner and image consultant.”
One brow rose slightly. “Image consultant?”
“I help people look and feel good about themselves.”
“Well, no offense, but I’m pretty happy with myself just the way I am.”
And he had every reason to be. But in her experience everyone had room for improvement.
“Have you ever been in the spotlight before, Mr. Dilson? Given a speech on stage?”
He shook his head. “No, ma’am.”
“Then my job is to give you an idea of what you should expect when you accept your award. To prepare you for the formal atmosphere of the gala. Which, as an event planner, I am also organizing.”
“So in other words, you’re going to see that I don’t make a fool out of myself. Or the foundation.”
She didn’t think that was going to be an issue. With looks like his, he would have a tremendous stage presence. She could see why Ana chose to use him as the organization’s poster child. “So you feel comfortable,” she said.
“Well, I’m not big on crowds. I usually prefer to keep things one-on-one. If you know what I mean,” he said with a wink.
If he was trying to fluster her, it was working.
She pulled a notepad and pen from the top drawer of her desk. “Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself.”
He shrugged. “Not much to tell. I was born in California and raised all over the country. I’ve spent the last fourteen years working as a ranch hand.”
She had the distinct feeling there was a lot more to his life than that. Like how he managed to make it into adulthood without learning to read. But she wasn’t quite sure how to word the question. Hannah’s Hope was a dream client. It could thrust her company, Premier Image and Planning LLC, into the big time. The last thing she wanted to do was offend their star pupil.
She chose her next words carefully. “How is it you came to work with the foundation, Mr. Dilson?”
“It’s Brandon,” he said, flashing her that easy smile. “And I think what you really want to know is how a man can make it to thirty without learning to read.”
He might have had literacy challenges, but he was a smart man. “How did you?”
“My mom died when I was young and my dad worked the rodeo so we moved around a lot when I was a kid. When he did manage to enroll me in school, I didn’t stay in one place long enough to learn anything. I guess you could say I fell through the cracks.”
It was sad to think how far he could have gone had he been given the proper education. “What motivated you to seek help?”
“My boss said he would make me a foreman of the ranch, but I had to improve my reading skills first, so here I am.”
“Are you married?”
“Nope.”
“Children?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
She shot him a look, and that sizzling smile tipped up the corners of his mouth again. She wondered if he had any clue how gorgeous he was.
“Just kidding,” he said.
Oh, yeah, he knew. “So that’s a no?”
“No kids.”
“Significant other?”
One brow rose up. “Why? You interested in the position?”
Oh, he had no idea. But she’d sworn a long time ago when, thanks to her mom’s latest bum boyfriend, they were kicked out of their dumpy trailer and forced to live in an even dumpier women’s shelter, she would only date educated, financially successful men. The kind who wouldn’t steal next month’s rent from her purse and use it to buy drugs or cheap whiskey, or gamble it away on a sure-thing horse.
Not that she had reason to believe Brandon was anything like her mom’s loser boyfriends. She was sure he was a perfectly nice man. And he was incredibly easy on the eyes. Like … tangy eye candy. The kind that fizzed in her mouth and made it water. He just wasn’t the kind of man she would ever date. His financial situation aside, he was too … something. Too sexy and charming. She wasn’t looking to be swept off her feet. What she wanted was a responsible, dependable, safe man. A man as driven and dedicated to his career as she was to hers. An equal. One who could take care of her if the need arose. Not that anyone ever had to before. She’d always taken care of herself. But it never hurt to have a backup plan.
“I only wondered if you’ll need an extra ticket for the gala,” she said.
“No, ma’am, I don’t need an extra ticket.”
It didn’t escape her attention that he’d managed to answer, yet still avoid the subject of a significant other. Not that it was important she know. In fact, it was probably better that she didn’t.
“I don’t suppose you own a tuxedo,” she said.
He laughed. “No, ma’am, I don’t.”
The ma’am thing was going to get old fast. She set her pen down. “You can call me Paige.”
“Okay … Paige.”
