The Playboy's Proposition(6)

Bella bit her tongue, but nothing her aunt said made her feel one bit  less responsible. How was it fair that Bella had lived her dream when  her aunt had lost hers? It just wasn't right. If there was a way to make  it up to Charlotte, she should do it.





Unable to sleep, Bella racked her brain for any possibilities. She'd  already approached several banks and been turned down flat. Her only  hope was Michael Medici.The mere thought of him gave her shivers. That  didn't stop her, however, from calling his assistant to make an  appointment to meet him at his office. Luckily, or not, she was told  Michael would meet her that afternoon. It would be tight since she was  scheduled to work the evening shift at the restaurant, but she knew she  needed to do this as soon as possible before she talked herself out of  it.

Shoring up her courage, she strode into his office when his assistant  gave her the go-ahead. He stood as she entered and with her heart  pounding in her ears, she met his gaze. "I'll take the deal."

He raised his eyebrow and nodded.

"With conditions," she added.

His dark gaze turned inscrutable. "What conditions?" he asked in a velvet voice.

"That we set a time limit for our-" She floundered for the right word. "Involvement."

"Agreed. One year," he said. "After that time, you and I can determine if we want to continue."

She gave a quick nod. "And my aunt is never ever to know that I agreed to this in order for her to get her business."

"You have my word," he said.

She wanted more than his word. She wanted a document signed in blood, preferably his.

Her expression must have revealed her doubt because he gave a cynical  chuckle. "You'll know you can count on my word soon enough."

"There are other things we need to work out. Is this going to be totally  secret? Are we supposed to pretend that we're just acquaintances?"

"We can negotiate that later. I'll expect you to be exclusive."

"And what about you?" she asked.

He lifted his eyebrows again then allowed his gaze to fall over her.  "Based on our experience in bed, I think you'll be able to take care of  my appetite."

Bella felt a surprising rush of heat race through her. How did the man  generate so much excitement without even touching her? She glanced at  her watch and cleared her throat. "Okay, I think we've covered the  basics. I need to get to work."

"You can quit the restaurant," he said without batting an eye.

"No, I can't. I need the extra money to help my aunt," she said.                       
       
           



       

"Now, now," he said. "You'll be busy helping her at the spa. Your nights belong to me."





Three days later, Michael was working late as usual when his cell phone  rang. Bella, he saw from the caller ID and picked up. "This is a  surprise.""I got off a little early. I've worked the last few nights."  She hesitated a half beat. "I gave my notice."

"Where are you?" he asked.

"In the parking lot of your office," she said breathlessly.

Michael felt an immediate surge of arousal. During every spare minute  he'd thought about Bella, her body, her response, the sound of her  voice, her violet eyes filled with passion. "I'll be down in a couple  minutes," he said.

Wrapping up his work and turning off his laptop, he strode downstairs, a  sense of eagerness running through him like white lightning. He didn't  know why this woman affected him so much, but he'd decided not to  question it and enjoy her. Every inch of her.

He walked outside and saw the lights from her Volkswagen flicker,  guiding him to her vehicle. He opened the door and allowed himself the  luxury of looking at her from head to toe. After all, for the next year,  she was his.

Still dressed in her white shirt and black skirt from work, she gazed at  him with trepidation, her white teeth biting the side of her upper lip.  Her hands clasped the steering wheel in a white-knuckle grip.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," she said and seemed to hold her breath. "I wasn't sure when I was supposed to start."

He couldn't quite swallow a chuckle at her tension. She glanced at him in consternation.

"Why don't we just start with dinner at my place?" he asked.

"Now?"

He nodded. "What do you want?"

She blinked and paused a long moment. "A hot fudge sundae and sparkling wine."

"That can be arranged," he said. "Would you like to ride in my car or follow-"

"Follow," she said, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. "I'll follow you."

On the way home, he called his housekeeper and ordered filet mignon for  two, baked potatoes, a hot fudge sundae and a bottle of Cristal  champagne. Driving through the guarded entrance to his subdivision, he  glanced at his rearview mirror to make sure Bella made it through.

He pulled his Viper into his garage, got out and motioned for her to pull into the space on the other side of his SUV.

He watched her step out of her Volkswagen. Despite the wariness on her  face, he remembered how she'd felt in his arms that night. She was a lot  more trouble than any of his other lovers had been, but she was worth  it. He took her arm and guided her up the stairs into the house.

She glanced around as if she were taking in every detail. Michael was  usually so intent on a project or task that he barely noticed his  surroundings.

"It's beautiful. Sophisticated, but comfortable," she said as they  approached the large den with a cathedral ceiling and gas fireplace  already lit. She glanced at him. "Do you have it on a timer?"

He shook his head. "My housekeeper took care of it. You act as if you've never seen my house before."

She bit her lip and gave a half smile. "I guess I was a little distracted the last time I was here."

Her grudging confession sent a sharp twist of challenge through him. She  had been honey in his hands and he would seduce her to the same  softness again. But she was still tense, so he would need to take it  slow. "You mentioned something about a hot fudge sundae. Would you like a  steak first?"

Her eyes widened and she sniffed the air. "I thought I smelled something cooking. How did you manage that so quickly?"

He shrugged. "Just like I said: A simple call to my housekeeper. Would you like to dine by the fire?"

"That would be lovely," she said.

He nodded. "Let me take your coat."

She met his gaze and slowly removed her coat, her eyes full of  reservation over the loss of even one article of clothing. She glanced  away and brushed her hands together as she moved toward the fire.

"I'll change clothes and be back down in a minute. Make yourself comfortable."

Two glasses of champagne, filet and baked potato later, Bella felt  herself loosen up slightly. She was still tense, still wondered how  their arrangement was going to work.

"So, tell me your life story," he said with a slight upturn of his mouth that was incredibly seductive.

"You know my aunt's situation," she said, taking a sip of water.

"What about your parents?"

"Never knew my father, although I'm told he and my mother were briefly  married after a Vegas wedding," she said. "My mother left me with Aunt  Charlotte when I was two." Rationally, she knew she was lucky she'd been  given to Charlotte. Deep inside though, every once in a while, she  wondered why she hadn't been enough for her mother to want to keep her  and for her father to at least want to know her.                       
       
           



       

"So your aunt raised you," he said. "That's why you're so devoted to her. You glossed over that the night we were together."

She nodded. "It requires an extended explanation. My Aunt Charlotte has  always been there for me whenever I needed her. My mother wasn't cut out  for mothering. She moved out to California and sent money to Charlotte  every now and then. She came to visit me twice-once when I was six and  the last time when I was twelve."

"Do you talk to her now?"

"She died a couple years ago."

"We have that in common," he said. "My father was killed when my brothers and I were very young."

"You told me that. I think that was part of what made me feel at ease  with you. You mentioned something about one of your brothers dying with  him, but you didn't say who had raised the rest of you."

"Foster care for all of us. Separate homes."

She winced. "That had to have been difficult."

"It could have been worse," he said with a shrug. "Each of us turned out  successfully. In my case, I spent my teenage years in a group home and  was lucky enough to have a mentor."