An Improper Affair (Millionaire of the Month #4)(8)
Author: Anna DePalo

He contemplated her for a moment. "You’re here for the duration— "

She looked relieved.

"—just make sure to stay out of my way. I want you to let me know when you’re showing up— and ring the damn doorbell!"

With those words, he stomped out of the room and up the staircase to the master suite so he could get some clothes on.

His stay in Tahoe was getting off to a rotten start. First, running into Kelly Hartley, and now finding out she’d be wandering around the lodge for the month.

And attending a wedding yesterday hadn’t helped.

Having grown up observing his parents’ bad marriage, Ryan had never been one for wedding celebrations. Still, he hadn’t been able to say no when Dev had asked him to act as his best man. He knew he would have to go to Tahoe anyway to begin his month-long stay at the lodge.

Though even a harsh cynic about happily-ever-after like himself had to admit that Nicole and Dev were well matched, yesterday’s wedding was about as close as he ever wanted to come to the altar.

As he made his way down the upstairs hallway, he glanced at a framed photo of Hunter that hung on the wall.

Damn Hunter. Why couldn’t his old buddy have just given a big pile of cash to charity and been done with it? Why rope all his old college friends into this ridiculous lodge-sitting relay?

It didn’t make sense.

Still, he’d agreed to come to the lodge, willing to trust that his fraternity buddy had had his reasons. Hunter had in many ways been the deepest thinker in their group.

And the fact that honoring Hunter’s will would benefit cancer patients and survivors had been an added incentive. Ryan had been a generous contributor to various charities to fight cancer his whole adult life.

On top of it all, because of his own mother’s untimely death from breast cancer when he’d been seventeen, he was a sucker for honoring an old friend’s dvins wish.

Kelly watched Ryan leave.

Jerk.

Then a sinking feeling settled in her stomach.

She couldn’t believe she had to decorate while he was staying here!

She’d been so full of enthusiasm for this project. Now her excitement lay like broken china on the polished wood floor.

And yet, she couldn’t forget her initial reaction when he’d walked through the French doors wearing only a towel. Before he’d opened his mouth, heat had shimmered through her and she’d felt the instinctive primal pull of woman to man.

Ryan’s chest had been dappled plains, his biceps pronounced and his legs all corded muscle— as if he worked out but wasn’t obsessive about it.

There hadn’t been an inch of excess on him. Well, except for, perhaps, under the white towel riding low on his h*ps and serving as a startling contrast to the warm tone of his skin.

She heated at the thought; then stopped short.

She had to remember who Ryan was and who she was.

She could not be attracted to Ryan Sperling.

She wasn’t like her mother. She wasn’t looking for a quick roll in the sack with a rich guy who’d throw a few trinkets her way and then toss her aside without a second glance. She’d built her life refusing to be that stupid, that careless.. .thatpromiscuous.

And even if she were to be, it would be unwise for her to get involved with Ryan Sperling, the son of her mother’s former lover and a man who clearly disdained her.

She hated Ryan’s contemptuous attitude.

What had he said? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

He knew nothing about her. Nothing about how hard she’d worked and how far she’d come.

And anyway, if she was mired in mud. so Was he. He was the son of a consummate adulterer.

Added to that, she’d caught the momentary flare of attraction in his eyes when he’d spotted her today. Even knowing who she was, he hadn’t been able to contain it.

Her lips curved without humor. Ryan Sperling was attracted to her, as much as he might hate the fact. Her feminine intuition told her so.

With that thought, she headed toward the unfinished bedrooms. She spent the next half hour measuring the rooms and their respective bathrooms.

She already had some idea of the pieces she’d use to furnish the rooms, but she needed to make sure they’d all fit. She hadn’t had time to take measurements on her cursory walk-through with Men.

When she was done measuring, she stood in the middle of the last room, contemplating.

She knew she’d use Woolrich wool plaid for the curtains and some of the upholster,’, accenting and contrasting with some flower and solid prints. She also needed an accent piece or two and had already thought of a deep red leather chair for this particular room.

The house, with its polished wood walls and multiple fireplaces, needed warm tones. Big, comfy furniture would add the finishing touch to its inviting feel.

Her planned theme would fit with the decor in the other rooms of the house, as well as be in keeping with local tastes. Though it wasn’t the style she favored for Distressed Success, which had a more feminine appeal, it wasn’t a big leap for her creatively, either. She’d lived in Tahoe for several years and become familiar with the local styles.

When her cell phone rang she responded absently. "Hello1?" "Hey." Erica said. "Just wanted to touch base. How are you doing?"

"You’ll never believe who’s staying here," Kelly responded, her voice lowering-. The walls were thick, but she didn’t want to risk Ryan overhearing her conversation.

"Don’t keep me in suspense," Erica said with a laugh. "I have two kids at home. I may not live to see tomorrow."

"Ryan Sperling."

"What?"

"Under the circumstances, I think I can claim the shorter life expectancy," she said with morbid humor. "It’s goins to kill me to work here with him around."

Ryan had loved Hunter like a brother, but that didn’t prevent him from cursing his old friend over the next few days.

He was holed up in the master suite, trying without success to ignore the noises coming from other parts of the house.

If Kelly hadn’t been here, he would have been talking to his longtime lawyer, Dan Etherington, from the great room downstairs. Or while lounging on the outdoor deck. Or while ensconced in the office loft.

Instead, he was organizing a clandestine operation out of his temporary bedroom.

"Will he sell0" he said into the phone.

His father’s cousin Oliver had been the last hold-out among the family members he’d approached with an offer to buy their shares in Sperling retail stores for an outlandish amount.

The others had gone quietly, tempted by a payday that would permit them to live out their days on a perpetual holiday in Saint-Tropez. They knew Webb Sperling’s inflated ego would never permit him to take the family company public, allowing them to each make real money from the sale of their ownership stakes. A sale to another family member— even an estranged black sheep such as Ryan— was the only type of transfer that wasn’t restricted by the bylaws of the corporation.