Elizabeth Bevarly - Matchless Millionaires - An Improper Affair

She knew Erica and Greg would be there, maybe sharing a quick drink or some finger food before heading home to the kids and relieving the babysitter, who happened to be Erica’s mother.

Of course, the other person Kelly knew she’d find at the White Fir Tavern was Ryan.

But as she moved toward Erica’s table, she refused to look around because she didn’t want to lose her nerve.

And judging from the look on Erica’s face, Kelly knew exactly how she must appear. Her whole outfit begged for attention, from the bronze halter top to the black skirt and three-inch spike heels.

She got plenty of looks from the male patrons—admiring, appreciative and lustful.

As she approached Erica, Greg turned around, too, and his arrested expression put both courage and fear in Kelly’s step, since it was probably a good indication of what Ryan’s reaction would be.

“Hi,” Kelly said brightly, stopping at their table.

“What are you doing?” Erica asked in a low voice.

“Just what we discussed,” she responded. “Living up to what’s expected of me.”

Greg looked from Kelly to his wife. “Anyone care to fill me in?”

Erica nodded her head toward the bar. “It’s about the guy over there who’s staying at the lodge this month while Kelly is decorating. Ryan Almighty Sperling. He thinks Kelly is a—” she paused and threw Kelly an apologetic look “—slut. Kelly has taken it into her head to make a point.”

Kelly watched as Greg looked up at her. “Well, I’d say she made it, all right.” His glance moved beyond her, and his lips twitched. “And to the guy at the bar, too.”

“Good,” she said emphatically, though she felt the hairs at the back of her neck prick. “I’m going to get myself a drink.”

She sauntered to the bar, taking care not to look directly at Ryan, though she could sense the heat of his gaze.

“Jack and diet,” she instructed the White Fir Tavern’s bartender, a genial-looking man in his sixties.

The bartender’s eyes crinkled and he set down a napkin before her. “Coming right up. Lady knows what she wants.”

She smiled. “Today I do. Thank you.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Ryan said roughly.

She took her time turning to face him.

His expression was grim as his eyes raked her, pausing at her cleavage, where her breasts threatened to spill from the restraint of her halter top.

“What am I doing here?” she challenged. “I thought you were the newcomer.”

His lips thinned. “You know what I mean.”

“I’m acting the way you expect me to,” she said with defiance. “Isn’t this where you thought I’d be?”

Given his opinion of Hartleys, he should think she’d fit right in here among the women hanging out at the White Fir Tavern—and pawing him, if Erica was to be believed.

The bartender set her drink down before her and she picked it up and took a sip, scanning the room. More than a few men continued to look her way—and enjoy.

Ryan threw some bills down on the counter and said grimly, “I’m settling the tab for both of us.”

Kelly threw him a flirtatious look, then turned to walk away.

Without invitation, Ryan followed.

She stopped at her table and gestured at Erica and Greg. “Have you met my friends? Erica and Greg Barnes—” she waved a negligent hand in Ryan’s direction “—this is Ryan Sperling.”

Erica smiled and Ryan and Greg shook hands.

She and Ryan sat down at the small round table.

Erica turned to Ryan. “So, Kelly mentioned you’re staying at the lodge while she’s decorating.”

“Yes, I am.” Ryan shot Kelly a look, but she refused to turn his way. “Just for the month.”

“How do you like Tahoe?” Greg asked.

“I haven’t been here in several years,” Ryan responded, shooting her another look. “It’s interesting coming back. Some things have changed and others are really familiar.”

While Erica and Greg continued to make desultory conversation with Ryan about the local area, the atmosphere at the table continued to carry an undercurrent of tension.

After some time, a young waitress in a low-cut top came around to take an order of drinks. The waitress smiled invitingly at Ryan, who looked as if he didn’t mind the attention, and Kelly thought sourly that bare boobs were apparently acceptable on anyone not named Hartley. She put in an order for a green-apple martini—one of Brenda’s favorites. After that, she remained determinedly distracted, smiling an invitation at the men who happened to look her way.

Eventually, though, Erica and Greg announced they had to get back to the kids.

When everyone rose from the table, Erica leaned close. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Kelly smiled reassuringly. “I’m having the time of my life, can’t you tell?”

With a look of semiserious warning, Erica turned toward the door and Kelly took the opportunity to walk back to the bar and settle herself on a stool, leaving Ryan alone at the table.

Ryan’s presence had been keeping men away, she thought irritably, and it was time she did something about it.

After she’d ordered another fabulous martini— why hadn’t she discovered them earlier in her life?—she smiled at the attractive man sitting next to her. She’d noticed he’d looked her way occasionally since he’d walked into the bar fifteen minutes ago, and now she met those looks straight on.

He looked to be around thirty, with sandy-blond hair and blue eyes. If it had been wintertime, she would have said he was a ski bum, drawn to the slopes nearby. Tahoe attracted those with money to burn to its slopes, lake and nearby casinos.

“Buy you a drink?” he offered.

She smiled back. “Thank you.” Then she leaned closer, conspiratorially. “You’re more likable than the other guy who offered to buy me a drink tonight.”

She used the term offered loosely. Ryan, in typical high-handed fashion, had announced he was settling the bill and that was that.

The man next to her smiled back. “I noticed you the minute I walked in.”

She learned his name was Tate and he was another money-to-burn fun seeker vacationing in Tahoe.

All the while, however, she could feel Ryan’s eyes boring into the back of her head.

She took another sip of her drink, her third, and thought she had a nice little buzz going.

She cast a sidelong look at Tate, then one at Ryan, who still sat sullenly, beer in front of him, at the table they’d shared with Erica and Greg.

The contrast between the two men couldn’t have been more apparent. One was a blond thrill seeker, the other a dark angel with a mission. And the more she talked and flirted with Tate, the more she thought she preferred the former.

She smiled languidly at her bar buddy. He was a nice man, she decided with a warm rush. He was full of effusive compliments that bolstered her confidence, unlike another man she could name.

She leaned in, resting her hand on Tate’s arm.

Ryan’s jaw hardened.

She was tipsy and getting more inebriated by the minute.

Of course, the smooth-talking charmer Kelly was flirting with was enjoying every second of it. Likely, he was waiting for the moment when she was so far gone he could convince her to head home to bed with him.

On top of it all, the guy had thrown him a couple of amused looks, as if he knew he was an interloper and was enjoying the fact.

Ryan’s hand flexed on his drink. He itched to slug Prince Charming.

He knew the type. Growing up under Webb Sperling’s roof had taught him to identify it.

He told himself he didn’t care, but then Kelly leaned toward the guy, laughing, her eyes too bright, and Ryan downed the last of his drink and rose.