Robyn Grady - Bedded by Blackmail / Millionaire's Secret Seduction - Bedded by Blackmail / Millionaire's Secret Seduction

Tristan stared straight through Josh to the imagined figure of his adversary. “Cade and I have never got on,” he growled.

Too much competition, only one person willing to budge. As the older brother, Cade had always called the shots, won the praise and Tristan had been expected to smile and follow.

“Profits were down,” Josh recalled. “You both had different views on how to strengthen the figures. You wanted to borrow to refurbish the older hotels. Cade said the company couldn’t afford the debt. The board agreed.”

Tristan deadpanned, “Yet he found the money to buy me out.”

“If I remember correctly, you were the one who sug-gested the split.”

“And it was the best decision I’ve ever made.”

He’d examined the refurbishment proposal from every angle and had been certain of its viability. But, once again, Cade had played God.

Tristan knocked back his drink and smacked the heavy glass down on a corner of his desk. The echo reverberated through the room like the fall of a gavel.

He’d gotten out from under the Barkley Hotels’ weight and had started a property development company. No more kowtowing to big brother. This recent project would be his largest and most successful enterprise yet— if he got the nod on rezoning from Mayor Rufus.

Which brought to mind the other reason Tristan couldn’t care less if he ever spoke to Cade again—the fact that Cade had slept with Bindy Rufus while she and Tristan had been dating. Minutes before she’d driven off without him and died in that auto wreck, Bindy had announced to Tristan that she preferred his more mature and wealthier brother.

Talk about a kick in the gut.

Thoughtful, Josh swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “Tristan,there’s something else…I’d like you and Cade both to stand beside me when Grace and I say our vows.”

Tristan shoved a hand through his hair and tried to laugh. It was either that or cry. “You’re not making this easy for me.”

Josh’s smile was hopeful. “I want us to be a family again. All going well, one day soon you’ll both be uncles.” He pulled a card from his jacket’s breast pocket. “Cade asked me to give you his cell number.” He grinned wryly. “In case you’d lost it. He said to call anytime.”

Tristan put the card on his desk and changed the subject. They chatted for half an hour and, as soon as Josh was out the door, Tristan found and crushed Cade’s card in his fist. Taking particularly careful aim, he shot the wad into the trash basket.

He’d sort out something for the family get-together. He was happy for Josh. In fact, he envied him. Would he ever be fortunate enough to find a woman who didn’t think of marriage as nothing more than an astronomical weekly allowance with a single child to cement the deal? A woman who wasn’t a heartless gold digger as Bindy Rufus had so obvi-ously been.

Ideally, he wanted a woman who was in love with the idea of half a dozen kids and believed in the whole-some riches of “family comes first.” Wouldn’t it be great if he could simply whip up the perfect wife?

Later that day, on his way through his building to a midafternoon meeting, Tristan passed a jewelry store and an item caught his eye. The price tag was horren-dous, but the diamond and Ceylon sapphire earrings would look stunning dangling on either side of Ella’s slender neck. The dazzling blue stones matched the color of her eyes precisely.

He walked away remembering the impulse that had gripped him when they’d stood in the kitchen after their dinner out almost a week ago. He’d wanted to bring her near and taste her lips, see how they fitted with his. Crazy stuff. She was his housekeeper. Yes, he was looking forward to taking her to the black-tie affair tomorrow evening. She certainly was sexy out of that drab uniform. But she was also a simple, unassuming and honest soul.

He frowned, then slowly smiled.

The perfect wife?

At the dining table that night, Ella poured gravy over Tristan’s beef Wellington, feeling his lidded gaze not on the gravy boat but her arm—and inching ever higher. She bit her lip trying to tamp down the tingling sensation radiating from her center. What might happen if, instead of looking, he reached out and touched?…

The instant the thought hit, sizzling arrows shot heat to every corner of her body. She sucked in a breath and stepped back. She’d enjoyed their dinner out last weekend…perhaps a little too much. That time together had fed fantasies she’d secretly dreamed of for eight months. Fantasies about being a rich man’s bride.

She held the gravy boat before her, a reminder of her place. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

His jaw jutted before he nodded, and Ella’s heart-beat skipped. Every night that he dined in, she asked Tristan that same question. He’d never once said yes. From the ardent look in his dark eyes now, she knew he didn’t want more ground pepper on his potato.

He sat back, elbows on the chair arms, tanned, mas-culine hands laced over his lap. “Have you eaten yet?”

Worried, she examined his meal. Did something look suspect? “I was about to sit down to mine.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “In that case, join me.”

Ella could only blink. She ate in the kitchen or in her room. She’d never sat at this long, polished oak table. Never.

Then understanding dawned. He probably wanted to discuss something he needed from her tomorrow evening. Perhaps he wanted to fill her in on some background of the people attending so there’d be less chance of her feeling out of place. But it didn’t really matter what he wanted to discuss. If Tristan had suggested she eat with him, whatever was on his mind must be important.

She backed up toward the kitchen. “I’ll get my plate.”

When she joined him again, he was on his feet. After arriving home, he’d changed into jeans, the faded ones with the rip in the back pocket that sat like a dream on his lean hips. His white oxford was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a V of hard chest and dark hair. His jaw was shadowed with daylong bristles that gave him a rugged look. A sexy look.

Ella swallowed.

And if she continued along that train of thought, she’d start to drool, which was not good etiquette.

He pulled out her chair. Holding her plate firmly in her suddenly buttery fingers, she smiled. “Thank you.”

He pulled in his own chair and joined her. “I thought you might enjoy a glass of wine with dinner.”

Her gaze skated to a bottle of red next to the condiments. He filled her crystal glass, which he must also have placed there while she’d ducked into the kitchen, then his.

After they’d both sampled the smooth-blend Shiraz, Tristan smiled at her. “Well, this is pleasant. We should have done it sooner.”

Ella flicked out her napkin. If nerves weren’t pum-meling her stomach like a drumroll she might agree. It was very pleasant indeed sitting beside this über-attractive man at his dinner table, surrounded by fine things. The scenario was so unbelievable, she couldn’t even have daydreamed about the possibility.

Slipping beneath his sheets isn’t in the cards, either, she thought, but she’d daydreamed about that, and more often than usual this week…

“Do you have a gown for tomorrow evening?”

Clearing her throat, Ella fumbled to collect her silverware. “I picked up a dress today.” It hadn’t been overly expensive. She’d set herself a limit and had very nearly stuck to it. “I hope it’s okay.”

“I’m sure you’ll look stunning.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners and flames leapt up from the kernel of heat building low in her belly. He could smile at her like that all day.