The Millionaire’s Christmas Wife
Susan Crosby

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Copyright

Susan Crosby believes in the value of setting goals, but also in the magic of making wishes, which often do come true—as long as she works hard enough. Along life’s journey she’s done a lot of the usual things—married, had children, attended college a little later than the average co-ed and earned a BA in English, then she dived off the deep end into a full-time writing career—a wish come true.

Susan enjoys writing about people who take a chance on love, sometimes against all odds. She loves warm, strong heroes and good-hearted, self-reliant heroines, and will always believe in happily ever after.

More can be learned about her at www.susancrosby.com.

For Steve—brother, friend and cohort in childhood adventures. Thanks for all the times you got me out of trouble—and into it.

Chapter One

Denise Watson wondered if Gideon Falcon would be on time for his three o’clock appointment. She was an if-I’m-not-five-minutes-early-I’m-late kind of person herself, but he didn’t come across as a man who kept a close eye on the clock.

Anticipating his arrival, she stood at a window of her corner office, overlooking a bustling downtown Sacramento intersection. She’d moved her domestic-and-clerical-help agency, At Your Service, to this prestigious location a year ago, after four years of growing the business. She loved the view of the city skyline from her window.

From three stories up, Denise spotted a motorcycle zip into a just-vacated space on the street below. It had to be Gideon. A motorcycle would suit him—he was in the business of adventure, after all, flying planes and helicopters into remote areas, guiding office-bound executives on treks into the wilderness. He wouldn’t use conventional transportation, not even in mid-December, with rain predicted by commute time.

She watched him unhook something long and narrow from the back of his bike, take off his helmet then stride toward her building.

Giving her hair a quick toss over her shoulders, Denise returned to her desk, surprised to hear her pulse pounding in her ears. She’d been more than a little attracted to Gideon that night a month ago at his brother David’s wedding, had danced with him for hours, neither of them taking another partner.

What woman wouldn’t be attracted? He was breath-takingly handsome, his hair a rich, dark brown, his eyes not just blue, but intense, see-into-your-soul blue. And his body…He had a body, all right. He was also about as opposite from her as anyone could be. A daredevil man and a cautious woman mixed about as well as the proverbial oil and water.

Then there was also the minor point that he hadn’t called her since.

Her receptionist buzzed her. It was exactly three o’clock. Denise walked out to the reception area to welcome him.

You cut your hair.

It was the first thing that popped into her head when she saw him. It hadn’t been superlong before, but long enough to curl down his neck some. Long enough to fall into his face when she’d taken off her heels and he’d leaned closer while they danced. Now he looked like…well, a businessman, although an edgy, rather dangerous one.

“Thank you for fitting me into your schedule,” Gideon said as they shook hands, his eyes sparkling as if he knew all the secrets of the universe—or at least the one about whether or not she found him tempting. He wore boots, blue jeans, a white dress shirt and black leather jacket, somehow making casual look chic, as much a dressed-for-success look for his line of work as her outfit was for hers.

“I had a cancellation,” she said. They walked toward her office. “It’s our busiest time of year, since lots of people need temporary help right before and after Christmas.”

“This is my least busy time.”

He said it easily, as if it didn’t bother him. Maybe he liked the down time, which would drive her crazy. Working satisfied her. “Can I take your jacket?” she asked.

“Thanks.” He leaned a cardboard tube against her desk and slipped off the jacket. She was tempted to wrap herself up in it and savor his body heat before hanging it up.

Why didn’t you call? The question she wanted to ask most was the one she couldn’t ask, even as she felt him checking her out as she moved to sit behind her desk. “How can I help you?” she asked.

“I need a wife.”

Disappointment landed on her. Ever since he’d made the appointment, she’d been hoping it was just a ploy to see her again. But it was only business, after all. She hadn’t been on his mind as he’d been on hers.

“A wife. Okay,” she said, all business now. She pulled her keyboard in front of her and brought up a Request-for-Domestic form. “What kind of skills are you looking for?”

“Wifely skills.”

She smiled slightly at that. “Can you be a little more specific? Our domestics do everything from errands to party prep to cleaning to child care.”

“I don’t need someone with any of those skills, actually. I need someone to be my wife.”

She took her fingers off the keyboard. “I think you have me confused with a matchmaking service.”

“You did a good job for my brothers.”

He really did want a wife? “Not intentionally.”

He slouched in his chair a little, crossed an ankle over a knee. “David called you uncanny, the way you match up employers and employees. You even found Noah a teacher. Not a typical staffing placement for your company, right?”

“That was pure luck. Tricia just happened to come along, and she was qualified. She wasn’t even looking for a teaching job.”

“And now she and Noah are getting married, and David has already tied the knot,” Gideon said easily. “Don’t people call your company Wives for Hire?”

“That is the unfortunate nickname that some people use, yes, because our employees assume many of the roles that a wife would.”

“Except they can’t have sex with the employer.”

Denise’s pulse fluttered. “There’s that, of course, but being a wife certainly entails more than what my company provides, regardless of the sex issue.”

“But in my case, what I need is a wife.” He paused. “Without the sex.”

“You mean a pretend wife?”

“Exactly.”

“Why?”

“To help me woo an investor to a project of mine.” His logic intrigued and confused her. “You have to be married to accomplish that?”

“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.”

Something flickered in her eyes, but she looked at her salad so fast he couldn’t read it.

“How much time do you have?” she asked.

“I have to present my offer to the Bakers in ten days. As you can see, I’ve got everything lined up except complete financial backing. I’ve been scrambling for a couple of months since Max Beauregard died. He was going to partner with me on it. I would buy the land and build the trails. He would build the hotel. Did you know Max?”

“I didn’t know him personally, but he was pretty young when he died, wasn’t he?”

“Thirty-seven. Made a killing in the tech business early on. He was one of my first clients when I started my business, then he spread the word to his friends and associates. Plus he gave me great financial advice through the years. Incredible advice that changed my life.”

“So, what happened? Did he die before you signed contracts?”

“No, it was a done deal. His widow, Ann, can’t follow through.”

“Isn’t she legally bound?”

“Yes—except for a particular requirement the Bakers have. They will only sell to a young married couple who will keep The Trails name and family-friendly environment. The Beauregards qualified us for that requirement, even though the project was really mine. With them out of the picture, I tried to find another couple, but I need a couple with a whole lot of money who are also interested in this project. They don’t grow on trees. Ann gave me some leads that didn’t pan out. Then last month she said it was too bad I wasn’t married, because I was the one with the interest, after all. Then all I had to do was find a backer for the hotel. Not an easy thing, either, but easier.”

“Why couldn’t she still be your investor?”

“It was Max’s project, really. And I don’t feel like forcing her to adhere to the contract when she doesn’t have a love for it.”

“I certainly understand that. But the Bakers’ requirement sure seems odd to me.” Denise gestured with her fork. “A supposedly happily married couple could make the deal and get divorced a week later. How could the Bakers enforce that?”

“Technically, they can’t.”

“So you plan to be married until the deal is done, then end it? Not exactly a fine example of character.”

“Where is it written that only married men have good character? I want The Trails. I know what I can do with it. And what qualifies me is my personal need and expectation not only to provide a family-friendly environment, but one with a bigger scope, one that keeps up with ever-changing interests, to challenge families to play together, to be active together. They’re not lofty goals. They’re possible. If I have to pretend that I’m married in order to prove what I can do, then that’s what I’ll do.”

“What if they find out you aren’t?”

“How could they? Only you and I would know the truth. If we don’t tell anyone else, how could they possibly find out?”

She broke off a piece of roll, buttered it but didn’t take a bite as she mulled over his words. “Okay, I get it. How many investors do you think it’s going to take?”

“One.”

“Seriously?”

“I don’t want more than one, someone who’s got pockets deep enough not to need returns for several years. I could never please or pay off a group of investors. At best I could only get myself a small percentage by putting the deal together and working it. That’s not what I want, not what I’ve worked for, saved for.”

“You’re looking for a fifty-fifty relationship?”

“In an ideal world, I’d do fifty-one/forty-nine so that I could always have the final say. The chances of getting someone to agree to it are slim.”

She set her fork on her empty plate and took a sip of her wine. He could see the wheels turning in her head.

She lifted her glass to him. “Well, the project looks incredible to me. For the most part.”

He smiled at that. “For the most part?”

She shrugged. “I’m concerned about the hotel.”

Something in her tone intrigued him. “Max and I hired James Madigan. He’s an architect who specializes in hotels.”

“Yes, I know who he is.”

The way she said it implied not only that she knew him, but she didn’t approve. “You object to his plan?”

“Since you asked, yes. Don’t get me wrong. He’s great at doing hotel chains—you know, keeping with a tradition already established—but he’s not good at fresh design. This plan he did for you is okay, but it needs to be more rustic, more suited to the environment. And the interior design is…well, it’s like a lot of other resort hotels. There aren’t any surprises.”

“Should there be?” He found himself unexpectedly turned on by the focused businesswoman. He generally liked women who were daring and adventurous, like him. Bold. Had even married one—not that it had worked out. He’d figured Denise for being time-and-detail oriented, without much give, but packaged in a supersexy body that he hadn’t stopped thinking about—the primary reason he’d kept his distance this month. He hadn’t needed distractions. But then he couldn’t get her out of his head—

“I certainly like being surprised when I travel,” she said. “I imagine the views at this resort are spectacular, given the location in the Sierras. They need to be taken advantage of better.” She tapped the stack of paperwork. “The guest rooms are doing that fairly well, but the common rooms aren’t. Not fully. If I—”

She stopped herself, smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to take over.”

He considered her in a new light. He’d known she was intelligent, but he hadn’t seen fire in her eyes, not like this. “There’s no time to change the plans,” he said. “Ten days…”

“Yes, there is. It doesn’t have to be perfect, just the core idea with a reasonable estimate of costs, right?”

“True.” Their server took away their salad plates, replacing them with their entrées—salmon for her, rib-eye steak for him. “But we’re talking an immediate turnaround. If I don’t have a plan to show, I can’t interest anyone in the project.”

“It can be done.”

“How?”

She didn’t answer right away. After a long, increasingly tense moment, she said, “You don’t know who I am, do you? I thought maybe you’d come to me with this proposition because you knew, but you don’t.”

He focused on her, confused. A month ago he’d spent a whole evening staring into her face, holding her close. She was beautiful, but not recognizable beyond the time they’d spent together. “Should I?”

“If I tell you that most of my life people called me Deni?”

It took a few seconds to make the connection. Deni Watson. He could even picture her—the way she used to be. Blond hair, worn short and wild. A size zero, or two or four. He didn’t know how to measure such things. Best friends with Dani something or other. Deni and Dani, their names always linked in the tabloid headlines. Daughter of Lionel Watson, hotel magnate, owner of the luxurious Watson Hotels chain founded by his late father years ago.

Deni Watson, young, headstrong and beautiful. And bad girl extraordinaire.

Chapter Two

Denise knew the moment he registered who she was. She continued to eat her salmon, even as his gaze never wavered except to probe deeper.

“I guess you do know hotels,” he said. “I don’t pay much attention to the gossip magazines, but I do recall a lot of speculation when you disappeared from the scene. How long ago was that?”

“Five years.” She lifted her glass of chardonnay in a toast to creative journalists everywhere. “Apparently I either had a disfiguring car accident or a prince’s secret baby.”

“Or a very long stint in rehab,” he said.

“That was my personal favorite. I certainly partied now and then, but I didn’t make a fool of myself, except once. A moment that haunted me for years.”

“Why did you go into hiding?” he asked. “I’m assuming that’s what you did, anyway, since you changed your hair color and put on some weight.”

“Some?” She’d gained more than twenty-five pounds.

“Enough to put you at a healthy weight now,” he said, studying her. “And you’re right. Most people probably wouldn’t recognize you.”

“Interest in me may have faded, but I still pop up in where-are-they-now articles and video segments. But you asked why I left my old life. The short answer is that I had something to prove, and I needed to do it without the power of my father’s name behind my success.”

“To prove to him?”

“Mostly to myself.” She set down her wineglass. “I’m telling you this because while you may think I would be an asset to your cause, in truth, I could just as easily be a liability, depending on how someone feels about me. And, believe me, people generally have strong opinions about it. So you may want to rethink your plan. I’m sure I could come up with someone to fill the part for you.”

She didn’t want to come up with someone else for him, she realized, had changed her mind when she studied his plan. His project intrigued and excited her.

So did he, in an even bigger way. She’d be taking on a big risk personally because he, too, intrigued and excited her, unlike anyone else had for a long time.

“Are you saying you’ll do it?” he asked. He’d gone still and serious.

She’d fallen in love with the idea of his resort, but she couldn’t let him see the extent of her interest yet. She needed to be sensible first. She didn’t want to lose her credibility—or have her heart broken. “I’d like to take the plans home and study them further before I decide. I’d also like to see the scale model you talk about in your plans. And I’d like to see the site in person.”

He half smiled. “It’s not like I’m asking you for money.”

“I can’t lend my name if I don’t fully support what you’re doing. And we have to go into this assuming that some people will figure out who I am. I don’t flaunt it, but I don’t hide it either.”

“I respect that.” Their server picked up their plates, offered dessert menus, then left when they declined. “Are you free tomorrow?” he asked.

They worked out a plan for the next day as they left the restaurant, stopping outside the entrance. She slipped into her raincoat as he held it, then she pulled her mini-umbrella from her briefcase.

“Not gonna rain,” he said, looking up. “Not for a couple of hours, anyway.”

“I suppose you can smell it in the air or something, mountain man.”

He smiled. “The point is, I can’t smell it.”

“I’ll bet you’re very good at your job.”

His shrug could mean anything.

“Where’s your car?” he asked.

“I walked. I usually do.” She pointed ahead. “That’s my building.”

“I’d offer you a ride on Hilda, but I don’t have another helmet with me. And you’d have to hike up your skirt…” He angled toward her, looked about to say something, then stopped himself. “I’ll walk you home.”

She wished he’d said whatever had been on the tip of his tongue. “That’s not necessary, Gideon, but thanks. You should get going before the rain does come, just in case your nose isn’t right,” she added, even though she figured he knew what he was talking about. “You’ve got about an hour’s drive, I think?”

“Are you always this bossy?” He softened the words with a grin. “I want to see you safely home. Be gracious.”

“Who’s the bossy one?” She wasn’t afraid to walk home alone, even though the hustle and bustle of commute time had passed. There wasn’t the usual crowd to get lost in.

He rested his hand at the small of her back to get her moving. Every hormone, every nerve ending in her body reacted.

“You always walk in those stilts?” he asked.

“I left my walking shoes in the office.” Her ego had overruled her usual sensibilities. She’d caught Gideon admiring her legs in the high heels.

“Hilda’s your motorcycle, I gather,” she said, needing to make conversation, needing to do anything to slow the arousal racing through her, clamoring for attention.

“Yep.”

“Why Hilda?”

“It means ready for battle. Hilda Harley is her whole name. She’s a full pedigree. So, should I call you Denise or Deni?”

“Probably Denise, if you don’t want people to guess who I am. They sound like completely different names, don’t you think? Denise is pretty old-fashioned sounding.”

“I don’t know. I’m thinking it might be helpful for people to know who you are.”

She frowned at him. “You must not remember the reputation I had.”

“Was it deserved?”

“Not to the degree it was put out there.”

“People have an impression of who I am, too,” he said, “based on the work I do, as if I wouldn’t be responsible or reliable. I’m responsible for life and limb while my clients are with me. I take that seriously.”

“So then, that’s even more reason to keep my identity a secret. If they got the impression they were working with two flighty people, there’d be no chance of success.” She was aware of him beside her. Aware of his height, his ability to stay focused, his muscular frame, his strong hands. David’s wife had told her about him. How David and Noah went to Gideon for advice, that nothing seemed to faze him. How the brothers all had different mothers but were raised together, their father getting sole custody of each of them. There was a story there, something to ask another time, when they knew each other better.

“You’re quiet,” he said as they waited at a signal.

“You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“Good.”

They crossed the street, were only a block from her high-rise condo complex. “What happens if you don’t get the backing, Gideon?”

“I keep doing what I’ve been doing for all these years. Maybe I’ll find another location and try again. I don’t think in negative terms. I believe this is going to work, one way or another. And I like challenges.”

“Why don’t you go ahead and buy the land, since you have the money for it, then take the time to get a partner?”

“Because if I can’t build the rest of it to create the whole package, I would never have enough of a business to do more than the Bakers have—which pays the bills, but that’s all. I can’t commit to it without knowing there’s a payoff for me.”

“And seeming to be married, even though it’s a lie, is critical to your success.”

“Without question.”

“But no pressure, right?” she asked with a smile.

“Of course not.”

They reached her building. “Would you like to come up?” The invitation came spontaneously, not a conscious decision but an emotional one. If she’d taken a moment to think about it—

“Thanks. I think I should hit the road. Beat the rain.” He looked up. “What floor are you on?”

She was glad he’d turned her down, wasn’t ready for him to be in her space. “Lucky thirteen. The view’s amazing. Plus there’s underground parking, a swimming pool, a library and a fitness room. The amenities are great.”

“I have all that, too. You’ll see tomorrow.” He passed her the tube with the plans rolled up inside.

“I’ll be at your place by nine,” she said.

“Come hungry. I’ll fix you breakfast.”

He cooks, too? “Okay.”

“In the meantime…” He dug into his jacket pocket, pulled out a jeweler’s box and opened it. Inside was a platinum-and-three-diamonds wedding band. “You’ll need to wear this tomorrow.”

The ring was stunning. Her first instinct was to try it on. She curled her hands into fists instead. “Pretty sure of yourself, Gideon.”

He shrugged slightly. “I knew if you were any kind of businesswoman you’d want to see the site in person. You would be there as my wife.”

“I haven’t given you my answer yet. What if you show up with a different ‘wife’ later?”

“You’ve decided.”

His confidence irked her—and pleased her. She liked that he had that much sense of himself.

He plucked the ring from the box and held it up. “Want to see if it fits?”

She held out her hand. The ring seemed on fire, as if chiding her for telling a lie by pretending to be married. “It’s fine,” she said, then tugged it off immediately and handed it back to him. “Did you get one for yourself?”

“I did. It’s plain.” Instead of tucking the ring back in the box, he pulled out a tissue-wrapped packet that contained a long silver chain. He slipped her ring onto it, lifted it over her head and let it dip inside her blouse.

She felt it slide into her cleavage, then nestle.

“For when you’re not playing the part,” he said.

Her mind went blank as he turned her around.

“Thank you for doing this,” he said, and then he kissed her, a soft, electric brush of his lips against hers. “See why I can’t come up?”

“It takes two to tango.”

“Yes, and we’ve both got the moves.” He gave her a knowing look. “I’ll see you in the morning, Mrs. Falcon.”

She laughed but made no move to go into the building. She didn’t want the evening to end. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt that way, and this hadn’t even been a date.

Well…actually, it had been considerably more than a date. She’d just sort of gotten married.

“I can’t leave until you’re safely indoors,” he said, interrupting her thoughts.

It would be useless to tell him she came and went from this building every day without incident, so she went inside. He lifted a hand to her, then took off, his stride long and easy. She watched until he was out of sight. In her condo a few minutes later she stared at her phone. She’d almost asked him to call when he got home so that she knew he made it okay, before the rain. He would’ve laughed at her.

So instead she waited a little over an hour, then dialed his number.

He picked up on the first ring. “Safe and sound. And dry,” he said instead of hello.

She hesitated. She really needed to remember how intuitive he was, that he would’ve seen in her eyes that she was worried about him riding Hilda in the rain. “That’s not why I called.”

“You have some burning question that can’t wait until morning?”

She heard laughter in his voice. Lighten up, she told herself. Have fun, like he is.

“It doesn’t bother me that you were worried,” he said before she could think up a reason for calling. “It’s nice. Wifely.” He did laugh then, soft and low. “Did you try on the ring again?”

Her face heated. She’d not only tried it on, it was still on. Really, how could she work with someone who’d figured her out so well, so soon?

“I gather you don’t want to lie to me, so you’re keeping silent instead,” he said.

“Or it could be that your ego doesn’t need more feeding.”

“Touché. We’re going to need to talk about this attraction, don’t you think? Get it out in the open so that we can work together?”

“I think that’s a good idea, Gideon.” She hadn’t figured him to be the kind of man to “talk.” She’d spent her life around men who didn’t talk about anything risky, emotional or otherwise.

“It’ll make great breakfast conversation. Anything you hate or are allergic to?”

“I’m game for anything.”

“Anything?”

“Food-wise,” she said with a smile. He was going to keep her on her toes.

“See you tomorrow morning, Mrs. Falcon.”

She tried to think of something witty to say in return, but came up empty. “Good night, mountain man.” She hung up, left her hand curved over the receiver. She stared at the brilliant wedding band.

She couldn’t fault the man for his taste, or his brains. Or his body. He was the real deal, the whole package.

And if she wasn’t careful, he would end up being the death of her grand plans for herself.

Chapter Three

Denise thoroughly enjoyed her drive the next morning up into the gorgeous and green Sierra foothills. The farther away she got from Sacramento, the more her shoulders relaxed, which surprised her. She loved her city life. She had a prosperous business, good friends and a busy social life. She thrived on action and purpose. This trip was making her forget work completely.

Except, of course, there was something else to worry about—Gideon. She’d taken some risks in her life, but this was one of the riskiest, getting involved with a man embarking on a new enterprise that would take years of focus and concentration.

At five minutes to nine, she turned into Gideon’s driveway and followed it a long way back, not seeing the house until she’d made a couple turns. She had to laugh. He’d said his house had all the amenities of her condo, including underground parking. She guessed he’d meant the parking area under his deck, which stood probably twelve feet above the ground, the front of the house raised on thick beams. A silver-gray SUV was parked below the deck, Hilda next to it.

The structure itself, more cabin than house, melded aesthetically with the surroundings of oak and pine trees, evergreen shrubs and craggy rocks. Frost rimed shady spots.

She parked in a graded space off to the side. By the time she’d gotten out of her car, he was walking toward her. The quiet struck her—even the fact she couldn’t hear his footsteps. She shivered, wondering what the temperature was.

“Welcome,” he said, his breath billowing in the cold air, his gaze intense.

She wanted to hug him hello. Instead she said, “This is breathtaking, Gideon. I’m looking for the swimming pool, however.”

“You can see it best from the back porch, upstairs.”

“Lead the way. I can’t wait to see your library and fitness center, too.”

He grinned. “They may not match up with your own on-site amenities, but then I value privacy more than size.” He headed up the path that led to steps hewn of heavy timber. They crossed his front deck, where comfortable cushioned chairs and wooden side tables made the perfect place to sit and think, to enjoy the birds and squirrels in the branches above, or whatever other wildlife passed through the property. Deer, she supposed. Foxes.

Tall, thick trees blocked the wind, filtered the sun and scented the air with pine, a reminder, too, that Christmas was coming.

The cabin’s exterior was built of logs. She couldn’t guess how old it was, but it looked well maintained.

“The swimming pool,” he announced gesturing toward a small, sapphire-blue lake a couple hundred yards in the distance. Smoke rose from chimneys here and there in the landscape between his place and the lake.

“You swim laps, I suppose,” she said.

“Daily.”

“I’ll bet.” She rested her hands on the railing and took it all in. “It’s stunning. So is your cabin.”

“Thanks. I built it myself.”

She wondered why she wasn’t surprised. “That must be satisfying.”

“Beyond measure.” He eyed his house, looking pleased.

“You’re a man of many talents, aren’t you? Very of-the-earth.” Very macho, she wanted to add. She was more used to executives—the kind of men Gideon probably took on adventure treks into the wilderness. Men more like his brothers, actually.

“You’re wearing the ring,” he said, putting his hand over hers, rubbing the stones with his thumb. “I’m going to take that to mean you’ve decided to be my wife.”

Heat snaked through her. “Your pretend wife. You’re wearing yours, as well.”

He nodded, a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth, drawing her gaze to the lips that had kissed her lightly last night, leaving a desire for more.

“There are details to work out,” she said.

“Like?”

“Legalities.”

“Salary,” he stated.

She turned around and crossed her arms, leaning against the wood at her waist. “I don’t want us to have a contract through my business, but something personal.”

“I’m willing to deal. What are you looking for?”

“No salary.”

His brows went up. “Why not?”

“I know your intention was to hire me as a kind of figurehead, someone to show off, but I can be of much more help than that. I have contacts, you know.”

He hesitated. “Let’s talk about it over breakfast.” He led the way into his house, the front of which was almost entirely glass, allowing an incredible view from inside.

She smelled bacon, her all-time favorite food, although she wouldn’t have admitted that to anyone. Logs crackled in a big, stone fireplace. The large, open floor plan included the kitchen, living room and dining room, its table set with very masculine black-and-brown dishes and placemats. A carved wooden bowl heaped with pinecones made up the centerpiece.

He’d already moved into the kitchen. She ambled over to the counter and eased onto a stool to watch him work.

He pointed to several bowls on the counter, filled with fresh ingredients—tomatoes, shredded cheese, sautéed mushrooms and green onions. “I’m making omelets. What’s your pleasure?”

“The works, thanks.”

“And salsa?”

“Perfect.”

He grabbed a piece of crisp bacon kept warm in an aluminum foil packet and passed it to her. His eyes were smiling, as if he knew, absolutely knew for a fact she was dying for a piece. “Coffee?” he asked.

“Love some. But I can get it.”

“You’re my guest. Relax.” He poured her a cup, added one sugar and a smidgen of cream, then set the mug in front of her. When she looked at him in surprise, he said, “I’m assuming your tastes haven’t changed since the wedding reception.”

He turned back to the stove, added butter to a hot pan and started fixing an omelet like a seasoned chef. She nibbled on bacon, sipped her coffee and enjoyed the show, which seemed effortless and efficient. He turned the omelet onto a plate, then quickly assembled another exactly the same. He poured warmed-up salsa over the top of each, added bacon and sourdough toast to each plate, then carried them to the table.

“You’re fun to watch,” she said, taking her seat. “Have you worked as a chef?”

“Sort of. I cook for my clients, but I generally use a small camp stove or an open fire pit for that. And I’ve always liked to cook. I learned very young because Noah, being the oldest, was given way too many chores as we were growing up, and he hated cooking, so I took over. I’m the grill master in our family.”

They ate in silence for a couple of minutes.

“You’re good,” she said, toasting him with a forkful of eggs.

“Do you like to cook?”

“Yes.” She looked around his living space then realized there were no photos out, no family in view. There were none in her place, either, except in her bedroom. “How close are you to your brothers’ homes?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

“I went to both houses to pick up Tricia and Valerie for Valerie’s bachelorette party. They have beautiful homes.”

She looked at him over the rim of her mug. “I heard that all three of you were equal partners after your father died.”

“True. I sold my share to them after a year or so. The job required heavy-duty sales. I was good at it, but I hated it. Falcon Motorcars has done just fine without me. David and Noah have also done just fine without me on board, too. They took what our father started and made it a success many times over what he’d done with it. I expect this deal will do the same for me.”

“You’ll be a millionaire.”

He smiled slightly. “That wouldn’t be something new for me. I took my profits from the family business and made smart investments, thanks initially to Max Beauregard’s advice.”

She’d already figured out he was incredibly bright. “How long ago did you build your house?”

“Two years. After my divorce.” He stood and took their plates to the kitchen, then ran water over them in the sink.

She didn’t ask if she could help, just pitched in, and he didn’t refuse.

“Sore subject?” she asked.

“What? The divorce? No. It laid me low at the time, but after the fact I realized I’d married her for the wrong reasons. She admitted the same. At least I’d been smart enough to protect my inheritance with a prenup. I’ve always lived on what I made. When I was first on my own, I got myself into a couple of ventures that were disastrous. I even got Noah and David involved. They said they weren’t going to risk it anymore. It forced me to figure out what to do. And as soon as I got my adventure business running, it paid off. Marriage seemed like the next logical step.”

Denise appreciated his openness, particularly admitting to his failures. She never liked anyone to know about hers.

She found dish soap and started filling the sink with hot water, not seeing a dishwasher anywhere. “No children?”

“No.” He reached around her to drop some dishes into the filling sink, his chest brushing her back, triggering little explosions all through her.

She liked the sensation, way too much. If they were going to work together she should avoid contact with him now that she knew how much and how easily he affected her, but she hadn’t felt like this for a long time, if ever. She didn’t mind experimenting to see how far they could go.

She just needed to keep her heart intact, her life on schedule.

“When did you tell the Bakers you’re married?” she asked.

“A month ago.”

“What have you told them about me?”

“That you’re beautiful and brilliant. Obviously, I was psychic,” he said, smiling. “I don’t remember everything I said, exactly. Joanne asked a lot of questions. That woman believes more in marriage than anyone I’ve met.”

“Do we want children?” she asked.

He grabbed a dishtowel and a rinsed plate, his hip resting against the countertop. “Absolutely. As soon as possible. I’m thirty-two, after all, and you’re—I don’t even know.”

“Twenty-nine.” She wondered if what he’d told the Bakers was the truth or a story. “So, I’m not on the pill, after all?”

He met her gaze directly. “No pill. No condoms. Nothing.”

“Hmm. Am I giving up my business in Sacramento? Did you tell them your wife works?”

“I’m pretty sure I avoided the topic. As for our story today, we should probably say we haven’t decided yet. That you may get someone to run it.”

“Which means I’m scrapping my plans to open At Your Service franchises around the country, I guess.”

He whistled. “Is that your goal?You don’t think small.”

“Nope.” She wanted to create her own empire.

“Have you given yourself a time frame?” Gideon asked.

“I have a schedule.”

“Of course you do.”

She smiled. “San Francisco next year.”

“Will you move there?”

“Temporarily. It’s a good place for me to branch out, because I’ve already made inroads there. Los Angeles after that, probably.” She rinsed the last pan and passed it to Gideon, then wiped down the counter as he finished putting things away.

“And the real Gideon? Do you want children?”

“Definitely. I need a few years’ cushion to get the business going. How about you?”

“Also definitely. Just not yet. Not in the schedule.”

“Exactly. Mine, either.”

“So. I’d like to see your scale model,” she said, deciding to change the subject, which had gotten too personal.

“It’s in my office.”

They walked past a large bathroom on the left and an even larger bedroom on the right. She caught a glimpse of masculine decor, including a huge pine bed covered with a green-and-black quilt. At the back of the house was a room that stretched across the whole width. An office took up one side, exercise equipment the other. One wall was bookcases, filled top to bottom. The view through the large windows went on forever, the lake a shimmering gem, the forest beyond thick and luxuriant.

“Welcome to my library and gym,” he said, his eyes sparkling. “All the necessary amenities.”

“So I see. I’m surprised you don’t have a dog. You seem like a dog person.”

“I’m gone too much. It’s in my plans, though.”

“A teacup poodle, I suppose.”

“Fifi. You got me all figured out.”

She wandered to a large table on which sat his scale model. She took her time studying it. He waited silently, letting her review it on her own. “You built this model, too?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“How long have you been working on the project?”

“A year on this site specifically. It took some time to get environmental impact studies done and to analyze the economics of other sites similar to this. I’ve seen plenty of family resorts around the country and a few in Europe. I took the best of what I saw, then created what I consider is the perfect environment. But technically I’ve been studying this business for nine years. I believe I know what will work and what won’t. Except that I’m not an expert in hotel design like you, obviously,” he added.

“I don’t know that I’m an expert, either, but I know what I like, what I’ve always thought I would build if I had the chance. I got my bachelor’s degree in hotel management, but I started working in the Watson Hotels Los Angeles when I was fourteen. I was like a sponge.”

“Why aren’t you working for your father?”

“Long story.” She turned back to the model and traced a trail with her finger from top to bottom.

“Sore subject?” he asked, putting a hand on her back.

She wanted to turn into him and lay her head on his shoulder. Be held. Even after seven years the wound was raw. “Yeah. But dead and buried.”

“I don’t think so. Looks like we both have father issues. Do you see your dad?”

“We’re not estranged, but we’re not close.” She’d dogged his footsteps her whole childhood, adoring him, putting him on a sky-high pedestal, then he’d crushed her. Denise took a few steps away from the temptation of confiding in and accepting comfort from Gideon. “I’m ready to see the site in person, if you are. We can talk business as we go.”

“There’s an issue we need to address before we head out,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“The attraction between us.”

Just the thought kick-started her heart into a powerful rhythm. “You have ideas?” she asked.

He moved a little closer. “As much as I’d like to say we should ignore it and see if it goes away, I’m more realistic than that. We have to pretend we’re married. That alone will require that we look comfortable together, that we seem intimate. It’s easy to recognize people who are lovers, because they move into each other’s space easily.”

His words added fuel to her already burning fire. “Are you suggesting we become lovers as part of this deal?”

His smile was slow and sexy. “I wouldn’t turn it down. But no, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying you shouldn’t take a step back when I get close.” He moved within touching range.

She stood her ground. “In public.”

He didn’t speak, but he picked up her left hand and kissed her palm, his thumb pressing into the ring.

“Have you always been a romantic?” she asked.

“Yes.” He kept her hand in his.

“You’re a rarity.”

“Am I?”

“Everyone is so straightforward these days. And self-focused. Dates are more like negotiations.”

“You haven’t met the right men, I think.” He pulled her into his arms and started dancing with her without music. “We fit. That can’t be ignored. I noticed it right away.”

“You didn’t call me this whole month.” She hadn’t meant to say that, as if she’d been waiting by the phone for his call. She’d actually stopped doing that after two weeks…

“Not because I didn’t want to see you, Mrs. Falcon.”

She wondered when—or if—she would stop reacting to him calling her that. “That makes no sense.”

“This project has consumed me and will continue to if I manage to find a partner. You wouldn’t like my lack of attention. It would kill any hope of a relationship.”

“You see me as high maintenance?”

He stopped dancing but didn’t let her go. “I see you as a beautiful woman who deserves someone’s complete attention.”

“I’m busy, too. Maybe I would be happy taking what I could get.”

He ran his fingers across her lips until she parted them, then he kissed her. “If that’s true,” he said, brushing his lips back and forth against hers, “you’ve got the chance now to test your theory.”

He settled his mouth on hers, wrapped his arms around her. She couldn’t stop a needy moan from escaping, which made him deepen the kiss even more. He slipped his tongue inside her mouth and moved his hands to her waist, sliding up her rib cage, his thumbs resting just under breasts. She moved against him, pressing her hips flush with his, enjoying his powerful body, the feel of his broad hands, the taste and heat of his mouth. She went up on tiptoe, wrapping her arms around his neck, wanting more. Now.

He nipped at her mouth then pulled away. “I’ll bet you’re very demanding in bed,” he said when she finally opened her eyes. He looked as aroused as she, as needy as she.

“Are you up to it?” she asked.

“What do you think?”

“My assistant decided you’d be a good kisser.”

“And what’s your opinion?”

“That you exceeded expectation.” She didn’t know why she was being so honest with him. Maybe she shouldn’t flatter him, shouldn’t let him know how much he turned her on. She’d just slipped into the role of his wife—his adoring wife—as if born to it.

“Same with you.” He moved back a little more. “It complicates things. I knew it would.”

“Honesty works for me, Gideon. I can handle anything but silence. I hate silence. Tell me the truth, whatever it is. Don’t ever make me guess.”

“Deal. Shall we get on the road?”

She put a hand on his arm. “Maybe we should talk about what I want out of this arrangement, in case you want to change your mind.”

“Okay.”

“I want credit,” she said. “And a piece of the action if I’m the one to find you a partner.”

He stared at her for a good long time. She’d made her decision. Nothing he said would sway her. She could be a part of his success, if he let her. She didn’t know how much give he had, or even if he would compromise. He might accept her input on the hotel, but on anything else? She didn’t know yet.

“You’ve got about an hour in the car to convince me,” he said, then gestured toward the door. “After you, Mrs. Falcon.”

She took that as a hopeful sign.

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