The Millionaire Affair(5)

Just one. Where was her bedroom in relation to his? Because if they were  side by side, she didn't think she'd survive the week listening to his  shower turn on without dissolving into a lust-puddle.

"None," she said solidly. Then, to her horror, she blurted, "I'm sorry to hear about you and Lissa."

Silence.

Why had she said that? Not only was it inappropriate, it was a lie. She wasn't the least bit sorry Lissa and Landon were split.

Mick picked that moment to poke his nose through the curtain. "Who are you talking to?"

She peeked her head around the clothing rack she was half-hiding behind  and waved him away frantically. "Thanks, Landon. I'll see you tomorrow.  Bye." Only it had come out more like: ThanksLandonIllseeyoutomorrowBye  because she'd said it in one hurried exhalation. She gaped at the phone  in her hand, at her thumb covering the Talk button. She didn't recall  him saying good-bye. She'd hung up on him?

You hung up on a millionaire. Extra idiot points for you.

She stepped out from behind the rack, still staring down at the phone in  her hand. "I …  need to go over the schedule with you for this week," she  told Mick.         

     



 

"Who was that?" He gestured to the phone with the arm covered in  tattoos. She'd found them sexy when she'd first met him. God only knew  why. Or maybe she was just being petty. She'd been petty about a lot of  things lately where he was concerned.

She weaved her way around the racks and boxes in the storeroom. "Neil is  working my shifts in addition to his own, so he'll be pulling some  overtime this week. But Ginny's coming in for extra hours to help him,"  she said, ignoring his question.

Mick took the store phone from her hand and pressed a button. "Who's Landon Downey?"

"A friend." Sort of.

"A boyfriend?" His lips curved up in one corner, making his dark eyes  sparkle. From his full mouth to mile-long eyelashes and thick, overgrown  curls, it wasn't any wonder she'd picked him up in that nightclub two  years ago. The mistake she'd made was not recognizing a fling when she  saw one. Mick wasn't exactly permanent material. Definitely not the  right person to own a business with, she thought, regret poking her.

"He's not a boyfriend. He's Angel's brother. And he needs a babysitter this week."

Mick laughed. It was sharp and didn't send a flock of butterflies  fluttering in her stomach like Landon's rich chuckle had. "You?  Babysit?"

She crossed her arms over her breasts, hoping to cause some cleavage in  her V-necked blouse. Not that he'd notice. He liked large breasts and  hers were B cups on their best day.

What are you thinking? She didn't care if he noticed her cleavage or  not. She dropped her arms. It was none of his business what she and  Landon were to one another. She refused to engage Mick in this  up-and-coming argument. Plus, the truth was far more disappointing than  the reality.

"Do you think you can come in on Saturday?" she asked. "It's the only day Neil will need backup."

"You know I hate to work the floor," he said, his shoulders slumping. He reminded her of a put-upon fifteen-year-old.

Sometimes she thought he hated work, period. She had taken care of the  schedule since the store's inception. And the special orders, stock,  mending, financials, the floor plan …  He had taken on the tasks of  painting the front window and flirting with the female customers.

"Unless Ginny is here." He waggled his brows.

Her ire rose and she took a deep breath. She shouldn't fight with him,  but it'd become the norm. The last two months, Hobo Chic's sales had  plummeted and they'd managed to needle each other not only about work  issues but every grievance they'd had as a couple. It was like she  couldn't help being catty. Which was probably why she couldn't muzzle  herself now. "Can you have the decency not to flirt with other women  while I'm around? We did used to date, you know."

"Oh, I know." His smile oozed into the come-hither tilt he'd used to get  her into bed the night they'd met. When he reached for her, she stepped  away from him. His charm hadn't worked on her for a while now. He  licked his lips and chewed on the ring in his bottom lip in frustration.

She wasn't going to get anything done if they stood here sniping at each other much longer. "Please?"

He ran a hand through his too-long hair and pretended to think about it. "Yeah. Okay."

She smiled, and because she really did care about him as a friend,  squeezed his hand as she walked by. But not before she took the phone  out of it.



"I'll cover her expenses," Landon told Evan over the phone moments after  hanging up with Kimber. Or, more accurately, moments after she'd hung  up on him. He was still obsessing over that fact. He didn't like being  hung up on. It was rude. But he was trying not to overreact, and it  wasn't as if he'd had a list of available options for this situation.

"Fine by me, brother," Evan said over the din of voices in the  background. "Have you seen her recently? Because I ran into her after  the funeral."

Their mother's funeral was nearly two years ago. Landon had flown to  Ohio and out again, allowing as little downtime in between as possible.  He'd told himself it was because he couldn't leave work for long, but if  he were being honest, he hadn't wanted to marinate in the sadness that  had overtaken his father's house. Anyway, Aiden had been there. He was  better for Dad than Landon in this situation. In any relationship  situation as it was turning out.

"The last time I saw her was when she lived at our house that one summer."

Evan let out a sharp laugh. "When she was in the tenth grade? Dude. You should see her now."         

     



 

He frowned. "Don't be a jerk, Ev. She's a family friend."

"Trust me. I'm not." Laughter edged his voice. "Just …  be prepared. For the hot."

He recalibrated. He'd thought Evan may have been revving up to tell him about an unattractive attribute of hers.

"I mean, not my type," Evan added. "Redhead. But still hot."

She sounded hot, came the out-of-left-field thought. Her voice had been a  smoky, mid-range tone as opposed to Lissa's childlike soprano. Kimber  had a sultry laugh, too, even though he could tell it was borne of  nervousness. He supposed that was understandable. How odd to go and live  with someone she'd never met. Clearly, he hadn't put her at ease. He  was unable to pull off the charm both Evan and Aiden had when it came to  the opposite sex. For some reason.

For some reason? You know why. Because he wouldn't allow himself to,  that's why. Charm led to emotions, which led to attachment, which led  to …  disaster.

"It doesn't matter how ‘hot' she is," Landon stated more harshly than he'd intended. "I hired her to take care of Lyon."

"Sure. Whatever you say, Master of Your Domain. Look, I have to get back to my immersion class," Evan said.

"What's up next? Trust falls?" It was a jab. And Evan knew it.

"Not funny," Evan said, followed by a creative curse word.

Ah, being the oldest had its perks. Landon had gotten every one of his  siblings with that trick. He'd held out his arms, promised to catch  them, then step back and let them hit the dirt. He chuckled.

"None of us will take care of you when you're old," Evan growled.

"I am old." Thirty-seven and single. He'd crafted a plan to avoid this situation. Lissa had dismantled it.

"I gotta go," Evan said abruptly. "Good luck reining it in when you see her, dude." He let out a low whistle. "Gooooood luck."

The line went silent and Landon shook his head.

He'd been hung up on again.



Since he'd given the security desk Kimber's full name and let them know  it was okay to bring her up to the penthouse floor when she arrived, the  knock on his door the next morning didn't take him by surprise. She was  a few minutes early, which surprised and impressed him. He prided  himself on being punctual. Her prompt arrival almost made up for the  hanging-up-on-him part.

Almost.

Landon smoothed his tie and opened the door to greet-

He froze, blinking at the redhead gracing his doorway, the blood rushing from his head and straight to his groin.

Hot.

It was the only coherent word pounding in his skull. A sexual awareness  he hadn't felt in years hit him mercilessly …  and kept hitting. For a  moment, all he could do was stare at Kimber Reynolds, his jaw slack.

Soft-looking, cream-colored skin was draped in a delicate vintage dress  in a pale hue of pink with tiny black polka dots. Black lace sleeves  rested over slight, feminine shoulders, revealing more of her flesh  through the peek-a-boo holes in the material.

Lord in heaven. She looks like a 1940s wet dream.

And he was still staring.

He snapped his mouth shut and stepped aside, recalibrating his thoughts  onto something less distracting than the way the dress floated over her  frame. "Kim-ah, Ms. Reynolds, good to see you again."