Sheltered by the Millionaire Read online

  His offer to spend the day together had intrigued her the more she thought about it. But it also had her reliving their kiss in Colorado. Had she really thought she could just sleep with him for one night and then walk away? This was a small town. They would run into each other.

  Often.

  That was good motivation to tread warily, because if things exploded between them, there could be lasting fallout. Not just the upheaval it would cause for Evie to lose a male figure in her life, but Megan also had to think of her job and how a big blow-up between her and Whit could make living in this town together awkward. She had to put Evie first and her daughter was happy here.

  “Hey, hello, Megan,” a female voice called out from a row of cars over.

  Megan turned to see Stella Daniels waving as she got in her sedan to leave. The administrative assistant from the mayor’s office had become an unexpected hero after town hall had taken a direct hit in the tornado. With Mayor Richard Vance still in the hospital, Stella was serving as the unofficial leader of Royal, giving interviews to the major networks and making heartfelt pleas for federal aid. Her quiet calm was just what the town needed in a crisis.

  Megan could use some of that calm for herself.

  Waving back, she smiled, then grappled to keep the plastic container from tumbling out of her arms. Stella ducked into her car; the organized woman was likely headed back to the office or off to inspect more cleanup efforts, even on the weekend.

  Megan balanced the brownies again, turning back to the ladder only to find Whit gone. But it wasn’t more than a second before Whit’s broad hands came into view, sliding underneath the container.

  “Can I help you with that?” he asked, his broad flannel-clad shoulders angling beside hers, their elbows bumping lightly as he shifted to help.

  “Thank you. I brought these to thank the club for all their hard work at the shelter.” She handed the three dozen turtle brownies to Whit.

  “That’s what we do.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Right, Aaron?”

  Startled, she looked past Whit, surprised she hadn’t even noticed Aaron Nichols was there as well. Just as she hadn’t noticed Stella until the woman had called out. Megan had been one hundred percent focused on speaking to Whit. She’d seen that easy smile too many times in her dreams. Remembered the feel of his touch on her waist. Her hips...

  Aaron clapped a hand on Whit’s shoulder. “We can finish up later.” He tipped his head to Megan. “Good to see you, Megan. Be sure this bozo doesn’t keep all the brownies for himself. See you inside.” He pivoted away and went into the lodge.

  And then Megan was alone with Whit for the first time since before Thanksgiving. She searched for something to say to fill the awkward silence, finally asking, “What was Stella Daniels doing here?”

  She tried not to let her gaze roam all over Whit. No easy task, that.

  “She came to ask for help out at town hall. They’re still plowing through debris and there’s concern about lost files.”

  “If anyone can restore order in the chaos, Stella can.” The town was lucky to have someone so competent leading recovery efforts during such a tumultuous time. “She’s done some great work in organizing reconstruction during the mayor’s recovery.”

  Mayor Vance had suffered massive injuries while working out of the town hall when the tornado hit. Stella seemed unsure of herself at times, but she was proactive in rounding up help where it was needed. And the Cattleman’s Club was definitely the place to check, full of powerful movers and shakers in the community.

  “The club is all in to do what we can.” Whit’s molten brown eyes held her for another long instant, making her skin tingle. “How was your Thanksgiving?”

  She swallowed hard, thinking about how she’d been too much of a coward to return his calls. “Evie and I had a feast of chicken nuggets and sweet potato fries, then made turkey paintings using our handprints. The front of my refrigerator is full of artwork.” She paused for an instant before asking, “How was your Thanksgiving?”

  “Lonely,” he said simply, without even a hint of self-pity, more like a statement of fact.

  Surprise kicked through her, quickly followed by guilt that he’d spent the day alone after reaching out to her. “You didn’t spend the day with friends?”

  “They have families, like you do.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “But hey, it wasn’t a total wash. I watched ball games and ate a catered meal.”

  The Whit she’d spent time with recently, the Whit who was standing here with her now, didn’t fit the image of the man she’d known for over three years. She wasn’t sure what to make of him now. She’d been so sure he was a wealthy, ruthless charmer.

  Maybe he really was just a nice guy who wanted to be with her. What the hell was wrong with her that she’d been upset because the man had acted like a gentleman and didn’t jump all over her during their trip? “I’m sorry you spent the day alone. After all you did for the shelter it was small of me not to include you in my Thanksgiving.”

  “I didn’t want you to include me in your holiday out of gratitude.” He looked past her, trees rustling overhead. “Where’s Evie today?”

  “Playing with Miss Abigail’s great nieces.” She took the brownies back from him under the guise of securing the lid but really to occupy her jittery hands. It had been Evie’s idea to give the extra brownies to Whit, but Megan had been wary of showing up on his doorstep. Bringing baked goods to the whole Club offered her a face-saving option.

  A smile played with his mouth, a sexy mouth that kissed like sin. “What’s our princess dressed as today?”

  Our? Had he noticed the slip of the tongue?

  “She wanted to be a zombie, but I thought that was a little dark for a kid that young. We opted for a mummy, like ‘Monster Mash.’”

  “Good call.” He frowned, his hand tucking under the brim of his Stetson to scratch his head before he settled the hat back into place. “She’s still having a tough time?”

  “I’ve talked to the day-care director about it. Sue Ellen suggested some videos and books with tips on how to promote discussion with a child after a traumatic experience. I have the name of a counselor too.” She swallowed hard. “I hope we won’t need to use it. I figured I would give her another week to ease back into a routine. Hopefully she’ll get excited about Christmas celebrations at school.”

  “Hopefully,” he echoed.

  She should go. She reached and opened the container, releasing the intoxicating scent of chocolate. “Would you like an advance sampling of the brownies as an olive branch? Well, a chocolate kind of olive branch?”

  She took one out to offer it.

  He leaned in to bite off a corner of the brownie while she still held it. “Hmmm...” He hummed his appreciation as he chewed. “Damn, these are good.”

  His praise warmed her on a chilly day. “I’ll take that as a compliment, coming from a man who can afford to eat at the best of the best restaurants.”

  “The cooking service I use has never brought anything as good as this.” He popped the rest of the brownie in his mouth and reached for another.

  “Over-the-top flattery.” She scrunched her nose and set the container aside on the golf cart. “That can’t be true.”

  “Sure it is.” His smile was as bright as the dappled sunlight in the tree branches. “A cooking service is a luxury, but it’s a necessity for me unless I want to eat at a restaurant every night, which I do not. I get to kick back in front of my television at night like a normal guy.”

  “A normal guy with a cooking service.” She toyed with a strand of lights dangling off the cart.

  “A cooking service I may have to fire since apparently they have been feeding me substandard brownies.”

  Damn it. How could she not like a guy who said things like that? She couldn’t
hide a smile.

  “Evie and I will make some more just for you to thank you for the flight.” The offer fell from her mouth before she could overthink it.

  “I should say no, given how busy you are. But I’m going to be utterly selfish and accept.” He finished off the second brownie.

  “It’s the least I can do after all your help. And you were so patient with Evie last weekend.”

  “That’s a good thing. So why are you frowning?”

  And there was the crux of things, her real reason for coming here with the brownies when she knew she would run into Whit. “My daughter is hungry for a father figure in her life. I just don’t want her to build false hopes based on some nice gestures from you.”

  “Is that why you turned down my request to spend Thanksgiving together?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes, in part,” she said carefully.

  “You gotta know I think she’s a great kid and I enjoy her company as well.”

  Yet another reason to like Whit. His affection for Evie was genuine.

  Megan sagged back against a fat oak tree, bark rough even through her thick sweater and jeans. “She’s a kid in a fragile state of mind. I’m not...comfortable risking anything upsetting her.”

  “Okay, okay....” Exhaling hard, he pressed a hand to the tree trunk, just above her head. “I can see where you’re coming from on that, given the tiara and tornado-butt-kicking costumes.”

  “I’m glad you understand my predicament. I’m her mother. I have to put her needs first.”

  “You’re a great mom too, from everything I’ve seen.” His head angled closer. “I have to wonder though. Why did you kiss me in the hotel? Call me arrogant, but I wasn’t mistaken in thinking you’re interested....” He stroked her loose hair back over her shoulder. “Unless you were using me as a one-night stand. In which case you should be upfront about that. I’m not passing judgment. Just asking for honesty.”

  His touch sent a shiver down her spine. “Point taken.”

  “Exactly.” His hand glided down to her shoulder blade, his fingers tangled in her hair.

  Thank heaven everyone was inside, though the possibility that someone could catch sight of them through a window helped keep her in check. And heaven knew she needed all the help she could get to restrain her from throwing herself at him again. Her daughter’s well-being had to be first and foremost in her mind.

  “Whit, I’m just asking you not to use her to get to me. She’s a little kid who still believes in fairy tales where princesses can always win in the end.”

  “What about her mom?” He cupped the back of her neck, massaging lightly. “What does she believe in?”

  His question stunned her silent for three heartbeats. “What does that matter?”

  “Because, honest to God, I want to get to know you better.”

  His words filled the space between them with so much hope and possibility, she was scared as hell to step out on that ledge and risk a big fall.

  So she settled for sarcasm. “You want to sleep with me.”

  “True enough.” He eased his hand around to palm her cheek, caressing with his thumb. “Can you deny you’re attracted to me?”

  “Your ego is not your most attractive quality.”

  He chuckled softly. “What is, then?”

  “Searching for compliments?” She tipped her chin. “I wouldn’t have expected that from you.”

  He ducked his head. “Megan, I’m searching for a way to get through to you, because make no mistake, I want to spend more time with you. A lot more. I always have.” His words and eyes were filled with sincerity. “I was able to keep my distance when I thought the feeling wasn’t mutual. But now that I know you’re attracted to me too? I’m all in.”

  Her breath hitched in her chest. “What does that mean?” Nerves made her edgy.

  “A regular date, dinner with me.”

  Dinner scared her a lot more than the notion of no-strings sex. “I can’t leave Evie alone and she can’t stay out that late.”

  “What time does she go to sleep?”

  She chewed her bottom lip, already seeing where he was going with this. “At eight.”

  “Then how about getting a sitter and we go out after she falls asleep.”

  “And this gossipy small town we live in?”

  “There are plenty of places other than Royal to find dinner. We can get to know each other better talking during the drive.”

  She hesitated, wanting to agree but unable to push the words past her lips.

  A smile stretched across his handsome face, giving him a movie-poster twinkle in his eyes. “I’ll take that as a yes. See you tomorrow at eight-fifteen.” Stepping back, he picked up the brownies again. “Let’s take these inside so we can get started making plans for the evening.”

  * * *

  The next day, after finishing up at the Cattleman’s Club, Whit rushed home to shower and make plans for his evening with Megan. God, he needed her and not just for the distraction of forgetting about Craig’s upcoming memorial service. But for the chance to be with her, talk to her, find out why she had this tenacious hold over his thoughts.

  She’d clearly had reservations, but she’d still agreed. She’d been emphatic though that he couldn’t arrive until after eight once she had Evie in bed.

  As if he didn’t understand how important it was to be careful of the little girl’s feelings.

  But one victory at a time.

  He finished his shower and pulled out a suit, more ramped for this date than he could remember being...ever.

  An hour later, he shifted his sports car into park outside Megan’s cute three-bedroom bungalow south of downtown. He’d left the truck at home tonight and opted for his silver Porsche. He wanted to make the evening special for her. He had things back on track to win Megan over. Tonight was a big step in the right direction.

  He’d considered bringing her flowers, but didn’t want to be obvious. So he’d opted to buy her a catnip plant. He’d actually bought two, one for her and one for his greenhouse even though he didn’t have a cat. He’d also picked up a citronella plant that repelled mosquitoes to give him an excuse to stop by the shelter.

  Walking up the flagstone path, he took in the multicolored lights on the bushes and a little wooden sign that read Santa, please stop here. He climbed the steps and knocked twice just under the holly wreath on the door.

  Dogs barked inside and he could hear Megan shushing them just before she opened the door. The sight of her damn near took his breath away. She wore a Christmas-red dress, the wraparound kind with a tie resting on her hip. Those strings made his fingers itch to untie the bow, to sweep aside the silky fabric and reveal the hot curves underneath. His gaze raked down her body, all the way to her bare feet, that tiny paw tattoo on her ankle tempting him all the more.

  And he would have told her just how incredible she looked with her hair flowing loose to her shoulders except two dogs ran circles around his legs. He planted one hand on the door frame and gripped the terra-cotta pot with the catnip plant in the other. Some kind of Scottie mix in an elf sweater yapped at him while a border collie bolted out around the porch, then back inside.

  “Sorry for the mayhem.” Megan rolled her eyes. “Piper and Cosmo just need a good run in the back yard before I go.”

  “No problem.” He passed her the plant. “Catnip.”

  “Thank you, how thoughtful. Truffles, Pixie and Scooter will have a blast with it.” Her smile was wide and genuine, her lips slicked with gloss. “Come on inside. Evie is asleep and Abigail should be here soon to watch her. Beth helps out, but since she’s with your friend Drew...I just want to keep any talk to a minimum.”

  He swept off his Stetson as she stepped aside to let him in. He focused on learning more about her from her house to
distract himself from the obvious urge to keep staring at her.

  Her home was exactly how he would have imagined: warm and full of colors. A bright red sectional sofa held scattered throw pillows and three cats. Her end tables were actually wood-encased dog crates. A toy box overflowed in a corner.

  And there were photos everywhere. Of her with Evie. Of them with the dogs. The cats too. Years of her life not just on the mantel but also in collages on the walls.

  She held up the sprig of catnip. “I’m just going to water this.”

  He followed her into the kitchen and sure enough, the refrigerator front was decorated in finger-painted turkeys and a cotton ball snowman. He noticed her recycling station tucked just inside the laundry room, with its neat stacks of bundled newspapers and rinsed milk jugs in labeled bins. “I should take lessons from you on recycling.”

  “You should,” she said pertly.

  Chuckling softly, he looked past all those precise labels, and saw a large crate with a familiar calico cat inside.

  “Is that the same cat I brought to the shelter?” He pointed. “Tallulah? I thought she was staying in your office.”

  “Tallulah came down with an upper respiratory infection, so I brought her home to keep a closer watch over her.” She turned off the water and set the plant on the counter. “I’ve been crating her to keep her separate from the other animals.”

  He knelt beside the extra-large enclosure, wriggling his fingers through the wire. The kitty woke, arching her back into a long stretch. She was a damn cute little scrap. “Is she going to make it?”

  “She’s doing much better now.” Megan leaned a hip against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched him with curious eyes. “She’s on medication. I’ve been keeping her at home with me at night to make sure she’s eating and hydrated.”

  As if on cue, Tallulah went to the double bowl and lapped up water.

  Whit stood again, inhaling Megan’s cinnamon scent. “Do you often take animals home from work?”

  “We all do. There are never enough foster homes, especially right now.”