Jackie Braun - Tempting the Millionaire

“When I was a kid,” he mused, “it was all good. Coming here. Being with Simon.”

“Your parents died when you were twelve. Simon told me. That must have been terrible for you.” She didn’t even remember her parents, but she’d been told they’d died in a car accident when she was three. She’d give anything to have the few short years of memories of being loved that Hunter no doubt had.

“Yeah, they did.” He tipped his head back to glance at the clouds scuttling across the sky before continuing on through the garden. “And I came here to live, and it was a good place to grow up,” he admitted, now idly dragging the palm of his hand across a cluster of early larkspur. A few of the delicate, pastel blossoms dropped to the ground as they walked on. “The place is huge, so there was plenty of room for a kid to run and play.”

“I can imagine.” Though she really couldn’t. Growing up in a series of foster homes, Margie had never even dreamed of a place like this. She wouldn’t have known how.

As if he’d guessed where her thoughts had gone, he stopped, looked over his shoulder and asked, “Where are you from?”

“Los Angeles,” she answered and hoped he’d leave it at that. Thankfully, he did.

Nodding, he said, “Coming from a city that size, you can understand how small Springville started to look to me.”

“That’s exactly what drew me in when I first moved here. When I answered the ad to become Simon’s assistant, I took one look at Springville and fell in love.” It was the kind of small town that lonely people always dreamed of. A place where people looked out for each other. A place where one person could make a difference. Be counted. But she didn’t tell him all of that.

“I like that it’s small. Big cities are anonymous.”

“That’s one of the best parts,” Hunter said and gave her a quick, brief smile that never touched his eyes. “There’s a sense of freedom in anonymity. Nobody gives a damn what you do or who your family is.”

“Nobody gives a damn, period,” she said quietly.

“Makes life simple,” he agreed.

“Running off to join the SEALs wasn’t exactly an attempt at simple and uncomplicated.”

He laughed shortly. “No, I guess it wasn’t.”

“So, what were you looking for?”

“Why do you care?” He stopped, turned to look down at her and in his eyes there were so many shifting emotions that Margie couldn’t tell one from the next. Then he spoke again, and she was too angry to worry about what he was feeling.

“Seriously, I get why you’re doing this. Five million is hard to ignore. But why do you care when it’s not part of the job description?”

She sucked in a gulp of air and felt the insult of his words like a slap. “I told you. I’m not doing this for the money.”

“Yeah, you told me.”

“But you don’t believe me.” That truth was written on his face.

“I don’t know you,” he countered.

Margie pushed her hair back from her face when the wind snaked the dark red curls across her eyes. Looking up at him, she found herself torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to kick him. It was a toss-up which urge would win.

“Is it so hard for you to believe that I might love this place? That I might love Simon?”

“I just don’t see what you get out of it beyond the money,” he told her. “Unless it’s hooking yourself to the Cabot name.”

Understanding began to dawn as she noticed the tone of his voice. “Is that what this is about? Is that why you left? You didn’t want to be a Cabot? Why? Is it so terrible to have a family? To be a part of something?”

His jaw clenched. She watched the muscle there flex as if he were biting back words fighting to spill out. Finally he let them come. “In this town, yeah, it’s hard to be a Cabot,” he admitted. “Everybody looking to you to make sure they keep their jobs. Treating you like you’re different. Figuring since you live in a castle, you’re some kind of prince. I wasn’t interested in being small-town royalty.”

Margie laughed at that ridiculous statement. When he frowned, she held up one hand to cut off whatever he might say. “Please. I’ve heard plenty of stories about you when you were a kid, Hunter and in none of them did people talk about you like you were a prince. If anything, it was ‘That Hunter was always into something.’ Or ‘Hunter broke so many of my windows I almost boarded ’em up.’”

A reluctant smile curved his mouth. “All right, I give you that. But…” He paused, looked around the postcard-perfect garden and then to the back of the castle, which seemed to glitter in the late-afternoon sun. “Simon wanted me to be the next link in the Cabot family dynasty. I wanted more. I wanted to be out in the world making my own mark. I didn’t want to catch hold of the Cabot family train and ride on what my family’s always done.”

“So you walked away,” she said softly. “From your friends. Your family.”

She hadn’t tried to mask the accusation in her voice, and he reacted to it. His spine went stiff as a rod, he squared his shoulders and looked down at her as if daring her to question his decisions. “What I do is important.”

“I’m not arguing that,” Margie said. “How could I? You risk your life for your country. For all of us. On a regular basis.”

“Why is it I hear a ‘but’ coming?”

“But,” she said, accommodating him, “the smaller, less glorious battles are just as important, Hunter. The day-to-day work of building lives. Making people happy. Watching over the people you care about. That’s no less honorable. No less significant.”

“I didn’t say that,” he told her, his voice hardly more than a whisper of sound that seemed to slide over her skin like warm honey.

“Then why can’t you see you’re needed here?”

He shifted as if he were uncomfortable, and Margie hoped that she was getting through to him. As a Navy SEAL, Hunter knew his duty and did it, without question. Hadn’t she listened to Simon talk with pride about the man Hunter had become? Hadn’t she seen for herself since he’d been home how everyone treated him? The man was a hero. Now, she just had to make him see that this town—and Simon—needed their own hero back.

When she left, Simon would have no one again. Springville would slip back into the worry that without the support of the Cabots the town would die. Couldn’t Hunter see that his family, his home, should now be taking precedence over his need for adventure?

He shifted his gaze from hers as if he couldn’t look at her and say, “It isn’t in my nature to stay.”

Margie didn’t believe that. She already knew he was a man who didn’t avoid commitment. Hadn’t he given everything to his country? “Then what is your nature, Hunter?”

“To protect.” He said the words quickly. No hesitation at all. It was instinct. Turning his head, he gave her a hard, warning look, then added, “And I’ll protect Simon from anyone trying to hurt him.”

She knew exactly what he meant. He still believed that she was taking advantage of Simon. That she wanted only his money and whatever prestige came along with the name Cabot. He’d never understand that the love Simon had offered her had been far more valuable to her than dollars.

Suddenly she was tired of trying to make him understand. Tired of the veiled insults and the way he seemed to look at her with hunger one moment and disdain the next. If he was too hardheaded to see the truth, she’d never be able to convince him. And, since this farce would be over in a few weeks, why should she keep trying? Why should she keep beating her head against a stone wall when all she got for her trouble was a headache?