Susan Crosby - The Millionaire's Christmas Wife

“For purely business reasons, yes.”

“Well, this is a first. Would you like to hire two-point-five children, too?”

He grinned. “Not necessary. Although a little pregnancy padding could be helpful.” He straightened, getting down to details. “Look, I need someone who is intelligent, articulate and isn’t intimidated by men who are used to being in charge. Someone who can hold her own, whether it’s business or social. I need a woman who brings presence—and stability—to the table.”

“I see. And how much are you willing to pay for this paragon?” she asked.

“How much would you charge?”

“I don’t have a rate set up for what you need. We’ll have to talk to the employee and decide together.”

“I don’t think you understand, Denise. You’re the one I want.”

Her body reacted to the bold statement. It took her a moment to recover. “I’m not for hire.”

“Why not?”

“I own this company. I run this company. It’s more than a full-time job already.”

“I could work around your schedule. Weekends and evenings would be okay.”

“This is impossible, Gideon.”

“No, it isn’t. Have dinner with me. We’ll talk about it. I brought the plans to show you.”

“You think you can butter me up over dinner?”

His smile was wide. “I can try.”

“No one would believe we got married,” she said. “We hardly know each other.”

“Sure they would. We’ll tell them how we met at David’s bachelor party and how the instant attraction caught us off guard. How we avoided each other for the whole week until the wedding, because neither of us had ever felt like that before, and we weren’t sure we could trust it.”

His eyes went tender and his voice soft as he continued with the mesmerizing words. “Then at the wedding we danced and talked for hours, our eyes meeting, hands touching, bodies brushing, and we knew, we just knew it was right. We were right. That there is such a thing as love at first sight, that we decided we didn’t want to live without each other for one more sunrise. So we drove to Reno and got married, trying to talk each other out of it the whole drive, but only talking ourselves further into it. It’ll be a love story for the ages. Even the most cynical men will believe it, because we’ll say it with passion in our eyes. We’ll be envied by all.”

It took Denise a few seconds to focus again. She’d gotten totally caught up in his fairy tale. Heck, he’d convinced her , so she supposed others would believe it, too. Really, who would’ve thought he was a romantic? She’d figured him for the kind of hero Hemingway wrote about. A survivor. The man you hope is with you when your plane goes down.

Still…“I really don’t see how we could pull this off, Gideon. Why would you have kept it a secret from your family for a month?”

“There’s no reason for them to ever find out. Most people will never know, only the ones I’m trying to convince to invest in my project, and I’ll bet they don’t ask. But just in case, we’ve got a story. At least take a look at what I’m doing. If I can’t convince you of the merits of the project, we’ll skip the whole thing. Have dinner with me,” he repeated.

She wasn’t going to take the job, but she could have dinner with him, as a courtesy to him as David and Noah’s brother, anyway, and a potential client. She could better match him with someone from her staffing pool that way, too.

She linked her fingers and set them on the desktop, all business. “You’ll have to wait or come back. I’ve got appointments at four and four-thirty.” She didn’t get to see his reaction, because he stood and grabbed his jacket off the hook, keeping his back to her.

“I’ll be here at five, if that works for you,” he said. He picked up the tube and passed it to her. “Can I leave this with you for now?”

“Sure.” She walked him out. “Maybe I should just order Chinese here? We could use my conference room.”

He put a hand on her elbow, stopping her, then looked into her eyes, into her soul, in that way he had. “Let me take you out, Denise. Please.”

You couldn’t have asked me out a month ago? “All right.”

He slid his hand up to her shoulder and squeezed. The simple gesture kick-started her hormones again. Was her face as red as it felt? Could he tell what he was doing to her?

“See you at five,” he said.

She nodded, then walked back to her office window and waited until he emerged from the building. Instead of getting on his motorcycle he headed toward the Capitol Mall nearby. He didn’t strike her as much of a shopper, but then it was almost Christmas, and he did have nieces and nephews.

“Hel- lo? ”

Denise snapped to attention at the sound of her assistant’s voice right next to her. “What, Stacy?”

“I said he’s cute.” She gestured out the window. “Your Mr. Falcon. I assume he’s David and Noah’s brother.”

“Yes. The middle brother.”

“Is he looking to hire someone, too? Wouldn’t it be funny if he also found the love of his life like his brothers did?”

“I would say that’s a long shot.”

Stacy shrugged, her short black hair bouncing a little. At twenty-eight, she was a year younger than Denise, six inches shorter, and a size two to Denise’s size twelve. Stacy had been Denise’s first hire when she’d started the business, and was being groomed to take over when Denise went ahead with her expansion/franchise plans. They’d also become good friends.

“What’s he looking for?” Stacy asked.

“Me.”

“You? Oh, I see. It’s not business. It’s personal.”

Was it personal? Didn’t he know anyone else who could play the role of his wife? “We met at the wedding,” Denise said, not knowing whether it truly was business or personal. Maybe both?

“You could do worse,” Stacy said.

“And have.”

Stacy laughed. “So, are you going out with him?”

“Yes, for dinner tonight.”

“I’ll bet he’s a good kisser.” She sighed.

Denise hadn’t gotten the chance to find out, even though he’d had opportunities at the wedding, especially when he’d walked her to her car at the end of the night. There was something about him that said he knew how to please, that he gave every experience his all. She’d felt it a month ago, and had been staggered by it again now.

“Let me know,” Stacy said over her shoulder as she left the office.

“You’ll be the first,” Denise answered, but she knew it was a lie.

She’d learned her lesson. This time she wouldn’t kiss and tell.

In a quiet restaurant a block from her office, Gideon sipped a beer as he waited for Denise to finish reading his business plan. He admired her all-black, all-business outfit of silk blouse, slim skirt and three-inch heels, which brought her almost eye-to-eye with him. She was exactly as he remembered—and had been trying to forget—five feet eight inches of perfect proportions, deep green eyes that were too serious most of the time and hair a shiny brown that flowed over her shoulders…

Hair whose roots told another story. A blond story. He’d been wondering for a month why she dyed her blond hair brown. Hiding something? If so, what?

Their server brought their salads. Denise set aside the papers. “So,” she said. “You’re trying to buy a crosscountry ski resort.”

“The Trails. It’s on the Nevada side of Lake Tahoe.” He stabbed a tomato and gave his spiel. “It has hugely underutilized potential, as you can see. Except for during the snow months, it’s being used as grazing land. The owners, Ed and Joanne Baker, built fifteen cabins on the property in the mid-sixties. I want to tear down everything and start new, create a year-round recreation site—cross-country skiing still, but also hiking and mountain-bike trails, horseback riding, even wilderness packing and camping, guided trips. And then there would be the accommodations. A spa, of course. Can’t not have one these days. Maybe a conference or retreat area. Plus a great restaurant and hotel.”