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The Millionaire Meets His Match
Patricia Seeley
Women to WatchWHEN THE CAT'S AWAY…Cass Appleton had the ideal live-in companion–until someone makes off with her favorite feline! Desperate to rescue poor Crudley from the kit-napper's clutches, Cass enlists the help of a wealthy widow–and the woman's sexy-but-skeptical godson.WILL THE LOVERS PLAY?The lovely Ms. Appleton stirs far more than suspicion in Gabe Preston's jaded heart. Still, the millionaire ex-cop isn't about to trust any female. To prove she's up to something, he keeps her under surveillance. But Gabe soon discovers Cass is no conniving crook. In fact, she would make a purr-fect wife–if he were a marrying man….For classic tales with an exciting twist, dazzling debut author Patricia Seeley is our Woman to Watch….
Thoughts from Crudley, the cat: (#uf1c42d0f-61c2-5236-bcb0-fb9aa3d148d1)Letter to Reader (#u3464e769-8df9-5692-88ae-bf0a7d47ab3c)Title Page (#u0cf063b0-f43e-5bf9-bbc4-7dd7122aa5b4)Dedication (#u4354d8f3-1e22-5107-aaa7-574fb1ffced5)About the Author (#u0ec4f27d-b4dc-59ad-a697-37c12c85937c)The Silhouette Spotlight - “Where Passion Lives” (#uf80d405d-2daf-5fc9-b95a-4dc5d3657852)Chapter One (#u03175ba1-929d-5c2a-84da-7dbbae57dd91)Chapter Two (#u6fe12512-b5cf-5b74-8679-cc60fe1698a2)Chapter Three (#ub6332bb8-dd6b-5cb1-be91-18969621c2ce)Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Thoughts from Crudley, the cat:
I can’t believe someone stole me, thinking I was Princess Athabasca. The kidnapper must certainly not be a cat lover if he mistook a tomcat like me for that pedigreed feline. My owner, Cass, must be frantic with worry. She’s so sweet and loving, I know she would do anything to get me back home where I belong.
I’m hoping that the millionaire who’s helping her with the search will sweep Cass off her feet and into his elegant mansion. Cass deserves to be happy, and Gabe Preston would be the luckiest man alive if he married her. Then all my catnip wishes and caviar dreams would finally come true. He’ll put me in fancy collars and Cass in beautiful jewels. . .maybe they’ll even have a few babies who’ll play with me!
I’ll just have to keep my paws crossed and wait to see what happens....
Dear Reader,
Silhouette welcomes popular author Judy Chrisbenberry to the Romance line with a touching story that will enchant readers in every age group. In The Nine-Month Bride, a wealthy rancher who wants an heir and a prim librarian who wants a baby marry for convenience, but imminent parenthood makes them rethink their vows....
Next, Moyra Tarling delivers the emotionally riveting BUNDLES OF JOY tale of a mother-to-be who discovers that her child’s father doesn’t remember his own name—let alone the night they’d created their Wedding Day Baby. Karen Rose Smith’s miniseries DO YOU TAKE THIS STRANGER? continues with Love, Honor and a Pregnant Bride, in which a jaded cowboy learns an unexpected lesson in love from an expectant beauty.
Part of our MEN! promotion, Cowboy Dad by Robin Nicholas features a deliciously handsome, dutyminded father aiming to win the heart of a woman who’s swom off cowboys. Award-winning Marie Ferrarella launches her latest miniseries, LIKE MOTHER, LIKE DAUGHTER, with One Plus One Makes Marriage. Though the math sounds easy, the road to “I do” takes some emotional twists and turns for this feisty heroine and the embittered man she loves. And Romance proudly introduces Patricia Seeley, one of Silhouette’s WOMEN TO WATCH. A ransom note—for a cat!—sets the stage where The Millionaire Meets His Match.
Hope you enjoy this month’s offerings!
Mary-Theresa Hussey
Senior Editor, Silhouette Romance
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
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The Millionaire Meets His Match
Patricia Seeley
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For “Daddycakes”
PATRICIA SEELEY
graduated from the University of Denver with a degree in English. She has worked as a bakery clerk, a secretarial assistant, a waitress and a police dispatcher, and has even classified and identified fingerprints. She currently works in the adjustments division of a bank, searching various documents and computer data for missing money.
She grew up on the East Coast but came to Oregon to dog-and-cat-and-house-sit for a friend who was going on a walking tour of Europe for six months. By the time her friend had returned, Patricia had developed an attachment to the beautiful state, in spite of all the rain.
Patricia and her husband of ten years have one cat, who was semi-namelessly referred to as “The Kitty” for the first eight years they had her, and who is now technically named Kitty Sue.
The Silhouette Spotlight
“Where Passion Lives”
MEET WOMAN TO WATCH Patricia Seeley
What was your inspiration for THE MILLIONAIRE MEETS HIS MATCH?
PS: I saw two unrelated articles concerning missing pets that became the basis for the plot. Using the idea of a cat kidnapping as the impetus for bringing the hero and heroine together, I thought about the various roles each might play that would bring them together and at the same time create a conflict between them.
What about the Silhouette Romance line appeals to you as a reader and as a writer?
PS: I like the old-fashioned, sweet and innocently sexy feeling of the Romance line. I’m a fan of old 1940s films, particularly Claudette Colbert movies. I love the tone of those movies—romantic attraction played out with warmth, humor and clear but understated sexiness.
Why is THE MILLIONAIRE MEETS HIS MATCH special to you?
PS: I really like the characters in this book. The narrative line is so strongly character driven that it was always easy to pick up where I had left off. I also like the humor. And I really did have a cat named Crudley, and it was fun to use him in the story.
Chapter One
“What do you mean he’s gone?” Cass Appleton glared across the wide expanse of teak desk at the office manager safely shielded behind it.
Mr. Howard, as his brass nameplate proclaimed him, smiled with a practiced artificial concern that said he was used to dealing with overwrought women. “Simply that,” he said in his most consciously soothing voice. “When the attendants arrived this morning, they found the door open...”
“I don’t believe it!” Cass slapped both hands on the polished wood surface of the desk. “How could you let this happen? I told you he could slip off those ridiculous hook latches you use on the doors. I told you that you’d need to take extra precautions. It’s sheer negligence for you to have let him escape despite my warnings. With the rates you charge, the least I have a right to expect is that you won’t—” She broke off, unwilling to admit the harsh reality. “Won’t...misplace my cat. Have you checked behind all the furniture?”
“My dear Miss Appleton, you didn’t allow me to finish. It wasn’t simply your cat’s cage that was found open, but the rear door of the clinic itself. We were burglarized last night”
Cass continued to stare at him, unappeased. “Are you trying to tell me someone broke in here and stole my cat?”
Surprise ruffled briefly across Mr. Howard’s carefully composed features before he regained his self-possession. “Of course not,” he assured her. “Your animal, as you know, has very little monetary value. I meant that although your cat did, apparently, manage to get out of his cage, he still would have been perfectly safe and sound inside the clinic building had we not experienced this unforeseeable break-in. I’m happy to say our alarm system worked perfectly and the thieves were frightened off before any of the expensive drugs or equipment could be taken. Unfortunately, your—” he dropped his gaze to the file folder on his desk “—Cuddly evidently used the opportunity to run off through the outer office doors.”
“Crud-ley,” Cass corrected him through gritted teeth.
“Pardon?” Mr. Howard asked as if suspecting he’d just been sworn at in some foreign tongue.
“His name is Crudley, not Cuddly. The r isn’t silent.”
Mr. Howard straightened his tie and relaxed fractionally. “Oh. Of course. In any case, I did send the boys out immediately to search the area as soon as I was informed one of the animals was missing. But on these busy streets, with all the early-morning traffic that rushes by, they weren’t able to find any sign of him.” He shrugged philosophically, apparently able to detach himself from the unpleasant reality of the fate he’d just suggested Cass’s cat would inevitably meet
“All I can do now,” he continued, “is tender the doctor’s sincere sympathy for your loss and my personal apologies for the negligence of the kennel staff. I assure you, they will be sharply reprimanded for this oversight. Naturally you won’t be charged for your cat’s two days’ board. And although there is no question of your suffering any financial loss by your cat’s disappearance, the doctor has instructed me to offer you a free replacement, with all its shots, and a free neutering when the time comes. We have several nice kittens available right now, if you’d care to pick one out. Then we can all put this unpleasant incident behind us.”
Cass felt the hot color rising to her cheeks. “I don’t want a ‘replacement.’ I want Crudley back. I left him in your care. You’re responsible. Do something.” The last words came out almost a plea, and Cass instantly despised herself for asking anything of this heartless petty functionary. Were there people who could be appeased by the kind of cold-blooded drivel Mr. Howard had been spouting? Or was she merely too inconsequential to rate a conference with the clinic’s owner himself? “I want to talk to Dr. Bellingham,” she declared.
The office manager shook his head and sighed. “I’m afraid that will be impossible. The doctor’s schedule is quite full for the next several days—the annual dog show, you know. In any case, I assure you I have followed precisely the doctor’s instructions on this matter. There is nothing further that he, or I, can do for you.”
Cass stood and smoothed the creases from her rapidly wilting summer suit. “We’ll see about that,” she said, hoping but doubting that the words sounded vaguely ominous.
The office manager smirked priggishly and barely inclined his head in acknowledgment of her empty threat, then rose fluidly to open the door for her to leave.
Outside, the late-afternoon sun still blazed high in the sky, sending waves of heat rippling up from the hot asphalt parking lot. The scorching air suddenly seemed too suffocating to inhale, and Cass staggered slightly as she tried to catch her breath.
She never should have brought Crudley to this callous overpriced clinic. She’d deliberately chosen the most expensive veterinarian in town, a man whose patrons included most of the elite in Newport society, believing Crudley would receive the best possible care from him. Now, it turned out, she had been wrong to assume he was well cared for.
Cass stalked over to her car, threw open the door and then slammed it shut behind her. Shoving the key in the ignition, she started the engine with an unnecessary roar and turned the air-conditioning on full. The cooling blast did little to ease the fevered anguish that overwhelmed her. It was too much. On top of everything else that had been miserable and hopeless in the past three days, now Crudley was gone.
Gone. The word brought such a spasm of pain to her midsection that Cass felt nauseated, such a tightening of her throat that she could scarcely breathe. She slumped over the steering wheel and rested her head on her forearms, feeling the tears well up in her eyes and overflow down her flushed cheeks.
A gentle tapping on her window startled her. Cass looked up to see Bobby, one of the kennel attendants, peering anxiously at her through the glass. She pushed the air-conditioning switch to a lower setting and rolled down her window.
“Are you all right, Miss Appleton?” the boy asked. His brown eyes were warm with concern. Unlike most teenage boys, he didn’t seem to be uneasy in the presence of someone else’s emotional display.
Cass grabbed a tissue and quickly blotted her eyes. “I’m fine, Bobby. Thanks. I just had some bad news.”
Bobby glanced around the parking lot furtively, then hunkered down beside her car, out of sight of anyone looking their way from the clinic. “I know,” he said. “That’s why I was waiting for you. I’m the one who opened up this morning and found Crudley gone.” He shot a quick look in the direction of the building, then turned back to Cass. “He’s a great cat, Miss Appleton. Not like most of them that come to this place, all pampered and spoiled with no personality. Crudley is a real character. And smart? Miss Appleton, I’ve never seen a smarter cat. You could teach him to do anything, I swear. Whenever I see him here, I make it a point to look after him myself and make sure all his instructions are followed to the letter. I would never let anything happen to him.”
Cass experienced a rush of compassion for the boy. Unlike the office manager’s prepared bromides and rehearsed apology, Bobby’s words had the ring of truth. His feelings for her plight were genuine, based on his own affection for her cat. “It’s not your fault,” she assured him.
Bobby’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, I know it’s not. That’s what I had to tell you. I’ve known Crudley for three years and I know he can pick locks and open doors on regular cages. I’ve seen him do it During the day, if I’m working alone in the kennels, I let Crudley wander around with me while I feed the other animals and stuff. Then I play with him awhile before I put him away for the night But before I leave, I always put a special lock on his door so he can’t get loose during the night. I wouldn’t want him to get hurt or anything.”
Bobby gave the clinic another surreptitious glance. “Miss Appleton, Crudley was locked in tight last night. I saw to that. And then this morning, when I got here, he was gone, and someone had left a note for Dr. Bellingham. I heard the doctor and Mr. Howard talking about it, and then I sneaked into the office after they left and looked for it. It’s just like the kind of ransom note you see in the movies.”
“Ransom!” Cass interjected.
Bobby nodded. “Yes, ma’am. With words and letters cut out from old magazines and newspapers. It said that the kidnappers had taken Princess Athabasca and would be calling Mrs. Crosswhite tonight with instructions on how to get her cat back.”
“Princess Athabasca?” Cass frowned. “Mrs. Crosswhite? There’s another cat missing?”
“No, ma’am.” Bobby shook his head emphatically. “Just Crudley. But the kidnappers think he’s Princess Athabasca.”
Cass pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples. “Bobby, I don’t understand.”
“That’s because you haven’t seen Princess Athabasca. She’s a big gray cat with golden eyes.” He paused, as if waiting to see if Cass had caught on. “Her breed is very rare and expensive, and she’s a national champion, but she looks a lot like Crudley, even though he’s just a regular cat. I would never get the two of them confused,” Bobby assured Cass, “but someone who’d only seen a picture of the Princess or read a description and knew she would be here this weekend might make that mistake.”
Cass at last began to understand the significance of what Bobby was explaining to her. “So someone did steal my cat,” she summed up incredulously, “because they thought he was someone else’s cat.”
“Mrs. Crosswhite’s,” Bobby repeated. “She’s filthy rich and crazy about her cat. The kidnappers are going to demand a ransom. Only they haven’t got Princess Athabasca, and Mrs. Crosswhite’s not going to know what they’re talking about when they call.”
Cass drew a sharp breath, remembering her own conversation with the office manager. “You mean Mr. Howard and Dr. Bellingham didn’t tell Mrs. Crosswhite someone had tried to steal her cat?”
Bobby shook his head. “No, ma’am. They don’t want anyone to know about it. They don’t want the rich customers thinking their animals aren’t safe here. They even told the police there was no need to make a report since nothing was taken. The chauffeur picked up Princess Athabasca this afternoon and took her home. When the kidnappers contact Mrs. Crosswhite tonight, she’ll just think it’s some prank and ignore it.” Bobby’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Then I don’t know what will happen to Crudley.”
Cass shared his unspoken fears, even as her heart leaped with the knowledge that, for the moment at least, Crudley was alive and safe. “Nothing is going to happen to him,” she said firmly, patting Bobby’s shoulder to reassure him. She turned and looked at the blankly imposing facade of the veterinary clinic. “I’m going back in there and force that weasel Mr. Howard to call Mrs. Crosswhite and tell her what’s going on. Then I’m going to contact the police and have them put a trace on her phone so when the kidnappers call, we can find out who and where they are.” In the space of a few seconds Cass had almost convinced herself that Crudley was on his way home already.
One look at Bobby’s expression reminded Cass her problems were far from over just because she knew the reason for Crudley’s disappearance. “I don’t know,” he said doubtfully. “I don’t think anyone in there is going to help you.” He made a grim face. “The old man isn’t interested in anything but the bottom line, and he mostly hires people who can’t afford to be anything but loyal. He doesn’t want any scandal or bad publicity, and he’ll lie if he has to. The official story by eight o’clock this morning was that someone tried to break in but was scared off by the alarms and never got inside. They’ve either hidden the kidnappers’ note or destroyed it, because when I sneaked back into the office during lunch to look for it, it was gone. There’s no way I can prove what I’ve told you, except for this.”
Bobby pulled a padlock out of his pocket and handed it to Cass. “It’s the one I used to lock Crudley in. Unless somebody slipped him a set of lock picks, Crudley didn’t let himself out of that cage. Someone used the key I left on the board.”
Cass stared at the lock. It was all the proof she needed. “I can’t let them get away with this,” she insisted. “And I have to do something to save Crudley.”
“I know. Me, too. I’ve been thinking about it all day, trying to figure out what to do, and I decided we should go to Mrs. Crosswhite ourselves.”
“Go ourselves?” Cass echoed, still trying to formulate a plan of action despite the tumult of emotions swirling in her head.
“Yes, ma’am. I figure if we tell her the story, she’ll want to help. She’s really a nice lady,” Bobby said with the confidence of youth. “I’ve met her when she brings Princess in. She’s a little dizzy, if you know what I mean, but good-hearted. She always pets the other animals and talks to them. She’s pretty cool.”
Bobby’s idea wasn’t half-bad. It was simple and direct, and it didn’t rely on the dubious support of Dr. Bellingham or Mr. Howard. Cass’s mind raced ahead. She would contact Mrs. Crosswhite, explain the situation, ask her to stall the kidnappers and then go to the police for their assistance. “It’s a good plan,” she told the young kennel attendant, “except for one thing. I can’t let you go with me, Bobby.”
Hurt and then indignation flashed across Bobby’s face. “It’s for your own good,” Cass explained. “I can’t let you do anything else that might jeopardize your job. As I recall, you’re going to be putting yourself through school soon.”
The boy nodded mutely.
“You can’t afford to lose this job,” Cass said soothingly. “I can’t take the chance that you’ll be penalized for doing the right thing in coming to me. I want you to promise you won’t say anything about this to anyone else. I’ll tell the police that my information came from a confidential source. With luck, Dr. Bellingham will suspect Mr. Howard slipped up somehow.”
Bobby grinned. That particular possible consequence seemed to make Cass’s alterations of his plan more palatable. “Okay,” he agreed. “Do you know where Crosswhite Manor is?” Without waiting for her answer he plunged on. “It’s not along the Cliff Walk, with the real famous places. It’s out farther, next to Heritage Park. You can’t see the house from the road—Mrs. Crosswhite has acres and acres—but you can’t miss the spot. There’s a high iron fence all around and a gatehouse out front with the name on it.”
Cass nodded. “Thanks, Bobby. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done. If you hadn’t figured all this out and then put your job on the line by telling me about it, I doubt I would ever have seen Crudley again. Now I think there is a good chance he’ll be home very soon.”
“He’s a great cat, Miss Appleton,” Bobby said. “If there’s anything else I can do, you let me know.” He stood up and threw a disgusted look back at the clinic. “I’m gonna start looking for another job, anyway. I don’t like working here anymore. These animals have no class.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his lowslung jeans and exaggeratedly sauntered back to work.
Cass pulled out of the parking lot into rush-hour traffic. She should have taken a back way to Heritage Park, but on impulse she drove toward Bellevue Avenue. Her route would now take her past the renowned mansions Bobby had referred to. Perhaps looking at them first would make Crosswhite Manor seem less imposing.
When she’d first moved to Newport, Cass had behaved like a typical tourist. She’d strolled along the Cliff Walk, enjoying the panoramic ocean view on one side and the incredible architecture on the other. Along this one threemile stretch of Atlantic coastline, she had seen some of the most opulent private homes, built around the turn of the century. The Breakers. Rosecliff. Marble House. The names evoked images of beauty and extravagance, money and imagination indulged and run wild. That had been Cass’s first purely practical opinion.
But although the imitation European palaces, castles and ch?teaus were undeniably pretentious, Cass had come to think of them as oddly charming. Like the yearly yacht races and tennis tournaments, these flamboyant “summer cottages” belonged to a different era, or at least a different class than the one Cass inhabited. It seemed pointless to speculate about the motives and morality of the people who’d lived in such grandeur.
Except now Cass was forced to ask for help from one of the residents of the great mansions. She fervently hoped that Bobby was right about this specific woman and that she was in fact “a nice person” and “pretty cool.”
Nervously Cass practiced explaining the bizarre mixup that had led to Crudley’s kidnapping, and Mrs. Crosswhite’s unintentional involvement in Cass’s plight. Not until she pulled up the driveway in front of the heavy iron gates and saw the redbrick gatehouse manned by a private guard did Cass realize she had overlooked a fundamental problem. The guard eyed her neutrally, glanced conspicuously at a clipboard in his hand and then walked over to her car as she rolled down the window.
“Good day, ma’am,” the guard said politely, just a hint of a foreign lilt adding music to his deep commanding voice. His eyes took in every detail of the interior of Cass’s car as though she might be smuggling contraband. “Your name, please?”
“Cass Appleton,” she told him. The guard studied his clipboard again. “Mrs. Crosswhite is not expecting me,” Cass offered. “I didn’t know I would have to come here today. It’s an emergency. I only need to speak to her for a few minutes.”
“Mrs. Crosswhite does not see anyone without an appointment,” the guard said placidly.
“I can’t make an appointment,” Cass protested, growing frustrated. “Mrs. Crosswhite’s telephone number is unlisted.”
“That is because she does not like to be bothered by people she does not know.”
For a moment the two of them stared at each other, neither willing to give an inch. Sweat trickled between Cass’s shoulder blades, and she wondered how the guard managed to look so cool. Maybe it was all in the attitude. “Fine,” Cass said eventually, raising her chin to look down her nose at the man, not an easy thing to do when she was sitting and he was towering over her. “Maybe I’ll just wait here and catch her when she comes out.”
“I would not advise that,” the guard replied. “This driveway is private property. I am asking you to leave. If you do not, I will be forced to call the police. You could, of course, wait in the street if you choose, but the local authorities do not take kindly to people loitering in the area.”
He wasn’t bluffing. He had no need to make empty threats. He held all the cards and he knew it. Logic, duty and the law were on his side, and Cass was on the other. After a few seconds of glaring at the guard to prove he couldn’t run her off, Cass threw the car into reverse and backed down the long, winding driveway to the street. Despite the guard’s warning, she parked there for a few minutes, fuming.
She was annoyed at herself for not having anticipated the problem of getting in to see Mrs. Crosswhite. She should have realized visitors would be screened. On the other hand, what difference would it have made if she had thought about it ahead of time? She had a feeling the guard had heard every story in the book and didn’t believe any of them. It would have come down to the same thing, one way or another: no appointment, no entrance, at least not through the front gate.
