Meddling with a Millionaire (12 page)

Risks. In business. But not in his personal life.

Struck by the contrast, Nathan broke off the kiss. When it came to his heart, he shared his brothers' aversion to risk. It was the one way he didn't take after his father. Brandon had been bold in business
and
in love.

Memories surfaced. His father sitting on the worn couch in their tiny house, Marissa's feet in his lap. Marissa and Brandon washing dishes. Him kissing her neck. And laughter. Always laughter. His parents had been happy together, Nathan now realized. Devoted to each other. It wasn't being in love with his father that had made his mother unhappy. It had been their time apart that had hurt her. Funny how anger and resentment had tarnished his recollections of that.

Cupping Emma's face in his hands, he set his forehead against hers. “We're here.”

“What time is it?”

“Close to nine. How long will it take you to set up?”

“A couple hours, I think.”

“Are you hungry? We missed dinner. We could go grab something before getting started. You should probably keep your strength up.”

“I'm too keyed up to eat. Maybe later, after we're done we could catch a late, late dinner.” The hand that had been playing in his hair dropped to her lap. “Thanks for driving and letting me sleep.”

“After almost a three-hour nap you probably won't feel
much like sleeping tonight,” he said, kissing her brusquely on the forehead and setting her away from him. “I, on the other hand, feel like I could sleep for a week.”

He caught the clear confusion on her face. The tender kiss they'd shared made him feel vulnerable in a way he'd never known with a woman. New insights into his parents' relationship made him question what he'd told Emma he wanted from her. He wasn't used to doubting his decisions. He wasn't used to feeling off balance.

He was no longer convinced that marrying without love was a good idea.

He just wasn't sure marrying for love was.

E
mma half trotted to keep up with Nathan's long stride. She shot a glance at his profile, her chest tightening at the thoughtful frown pulling his brows together. He seemed miles away, and with longing tight and sharp beneath her skin, Emma felt all too present. What had just happened in the van?

Waking to the tenderness in his kiss had been her undoing. The memory of it yanked at her heart. His passion she could dismiss as lust and not let it into her soul, but gentleness—she had no protection against that.

In those seconds before he broke off the kiss, the last of her defenses crumbled to dust. Had Nathan noticed? Is that why he'd stopped kissing her? Did he realize that she'd lost the will to deny him? That he'd gotten her right where he wanted her?

She'd been working so hard this last week to keep her emotions separate from the incredible sex. It was getting harder and harder to resist the pull of longing that had nothing
to do with how great he was in bed. She was hip-deep in trouble and sinking fast. Soon she'd enjoy being there.

Emma's hands clenched into fists, but there was no fighting the push and pull of excitement and anxiety that slid through her. She had to make enough money this weekend to escape the trap her father had laid for her. If Nathan was going to own her heart, she wanted to make sure he had to work for it. The only way to get on even footing with him was to take her father's meddling off the table. Being trussed up like a Christmas turkey and served to Nathan on a silver platter would put her at a distinct disadvantage.

Nathan was a silent, compelling presence beside her as she checked in with the show coordinator. With his help, she found her number on the poster board that displayed the layout of the show.

“I've got a great booth,” she told Nathan, her finger on the square she would occupy for the next three days. “Look. It's on the main aisle and right in the middle of all the action.”

Her enthusiasm must have been contagious because he grinned. “Let's go see it.”

They struck out across the exhibition hall. Already most of the booths had been set up. An assortment of glass, pottery, metalwork, textiles, jewelry and wall art in a variety of mediums created a jumble of color and texture in the huge space. She'd been juried into this show and she knew the other artists here had been selected for their fine work as well. This was her first foray into the world of one-of-a-kind art, and her emotions overlaid one another, a hodgepodge of excitement and apprehension. So much rode on how she did here this weekend.

Emma slowed as she approached the space she'd been assigned. According to the map, her booth was on this corner. Instead of finding a blank slate, awaiting her personality and vision, the space contained a rather odd collection of sculptures depicting ugly old women in period clothing. On
closer inspection, she saw they were made of small beads. While the detail impressed her, Emma couldn't quite get past the unattractive forms.

“Isn't this where you're supposed to be?” Nathan frowned as he surveyed what the area contained.

“Yes.”

Her earlier excitement faded. Although she wanted the prime location, she couldn't bring herself to ask the artist to move his displays at this late hour. Disappointment seized her.

“Then he needs to move.” Coiled energy radiated from Nathan.

She stepped between Nathan and the space she'd been assigned. “It's late. I don't want to be a bother.”

“Don't be ridiculous. This is your booth. It's a great location. You should have it.” His hard, gray gaze moved over her features and lingered on her worried frown. “Let me help you.”

She closed her eyes to better resist his cajoling. “You've already done so much.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing.”

“It is.” Her eyes flashed open. “I could get far too used to this.”

“Then get used to it.”

“I can't let myself. It's not who I am any longer. Not who I want to be.”

Nathan wrapped her in a strong embrace, his breath warm against her temple as he sighed. “There's no reason you can't be independent and let me take care of you at the same time.”

“Really? Because nothing you've done these past couple weeks has shown me that's true.” She pushed against the unyielding wall of his chest. “Maybe if you stopped telling me what to do, I might let you take care of me a little.”

Her tart speech had no effect on Nathan whatsoever.
He held her until her muscles loosened and she sagged against him. She liked letting him be her knight in shining armor. After a lifetime of being pampered, asserting her independence was hard work. Especially when she had a determined man tempting her to take it easy, to let her be spoiled.

But she'd be doing both of them a disservice if she meekly accepted what he offered and let him think it was enough to satisfy her.

“How about if I back off a little?” He pushed her to arm's length, his expression set into solemn lines. “Will that make you happy?” When she nodded, his grin flashed, smug and wicked. “Good. Now let me deal with this guy.”

So much for him backing off.

He strode into the space, aiming straight at a young man with gel-spiked, short hair. “Excuse me. I think you've set up in the wrong spot. This space belongs to her.”

The man shrugged. “She's late. I didn't think she was coming so I moved in.” He turned his shoulder toward Nathan, clearly making the mistake of underestimating the tall, muscled man in faded jeans and casual white oxford shirt. “She can have my booth.” He gestured to the empty space ten feet away.

“She doesn't want your space,” Nathan said, his low voice firm, but polite. “She wants the booth she was assigned. This one.”

“But I'm already set up here.”

“But you don't belong here.” Nathan pointed. “You belong there. Now, we're going out for dinner, and when we return, I expect that you will have vacated this booth.”

He smiled, a slow, dangerous baring of teeth, and stepped toward the younger man. Although Nathan didn't make a single threatening movement, the other man's eyes widened, and he licked his lips nervously.

“Are we clear?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

With a satisfied nod, Nathan pivoted on his heel and strode away, catching Emma's hand as he went. She turned to accompany him, knowing he would tow her along in his wake if she hesitated.

“What makes you think he'll move?” she demanded, her heart going all gooey at Nathan's demonstration of power and confidence.

He loosened his grip and slid his palm against hers, meshing their fingers. The warm, intimate clasp made her pulse dance.

The hard expression on his face melted into amusement as he glanced down at her. “He'll move.”

She laughed breathlessly, warmed by the humor swirling in his eyes. “You can be very intimidating when you set your mind to it.”

“Shall we stop by the show coordinator's table and point his transgression out to them?” he asked.

“Sure, maybe he'll move faster. Now that we're here I want to get everything set up.”

He didn't relinquish her hand as they paused to mention their trouble to the coordinator. Nor did he let her go until he dropped a kiss on her knuckles and helped her into the van. Emma watched him through the windshield while he circled to his side and told her wayward hormones to behave. Avoiding the way he made her feel had been relatively easy while she'd been buried in her workroom, but she'd let her guard down with that fairy-tale wake-up kiss earlier and felt helpless against the pull of attraction between them.

“Are we going to sit down and eat or go to a drive-through?” he asked, starting the engine.

“Drive-through, but you knew that, didn't you?”

Nathan put the car in gear. “I suspected you'd want to get back as soon as possible.”

 

On the second morning of the show, Emma sat opposite Nathan in the hotel restaurant and watched him tuck into a breakfast of steak and eggs. The man could certainly eat. Of course, he'd worked up an appetite last night after the show closed. She ducked behind the newspaper she'd bought, hiding a grin. The man could certainly make love, too.

Emma sipped coffee and nibbled on a piece of bacon. For the first time in weeks, her stomach wasn't churning from nervous tension. Maybe that was because, for the first time in weeks, a light had appeared at the end of the tunnel. The first day of the show had been surprisingly busy for a Friday. She'd made as much in one day as she'd made at Biella's in a month, and from what she'd gathered from the seasoned veterans at the show, she could look forward to the weekend being even busier.

“Look at this.” Nathan reached out and snagged the paper from her hands and replaced it with a different section.

Emma stared in amazement at the huge photo of her necklace on the front of the entertainment section. “I can't believe it.”

“I told you that reporter was going to do a piece on your jewelry,” Nathan smirked.

“This is incredible publicity. Do you know what this means?”

“It means you'll be very busy today.” Nathan signaled the waitress for their check. “And you owe me dinner. I'll provide dessert. I seem to recall that you like strawberries.”

And what happened if she was busy? And successful beyond her wildest dreams? She'd thrown every bit of energy and focus into her jewelry, but until this instant, she hadn't truly believed it would save her. Now it looked very much as if it would.

That meant she would regain access to her money without having to marry Nathan. What were the chances that he'd
stick around if he couldn't do the deal with her father? Would he disappear out of her life again?

“Do you want them dipped in chocolate or covered in whipped cream?” Nathan asked as he guided her out the door.

Emma blinked and shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

“Dessert. Strawberries. Chocolate or whipped cream?”

Laughter bubbled. “Since we're celebrating. How about both?”

 

Valentine's Day dawned overcast and cold. Nathan stood in his office and stared out the window at the rain falling on downtown Houston. The gray landscape was a complete contrast to his mood.

Ten days had passed since he and Emma had returned from Baton Rouge. The change in their relationship, sparked by that kiss in the van, continued to bemuse him. Never one to initiate their lovemaking, she now greeted him at the door each night, her ardent kisses providing the perfect appetizer.

Their time together, previously shadowed by mistrust and tension, had begun to approach the sort of domestic bliss his parents had enjoyed. He now understood why his father had always helped wash dishes even though the dishwasher functioned. Tangling with Emma's fingers in the soapy water had been both sexy and soothing for Nathan.

Neither one had brought up the topic of marriage. She kept mum about how she'd done at the show. A week went by. He was certain that he'd lost her. Lost the venture with Montgomery Oil.

When she'd first stated her intention to return the money to her account and thereby circumspect her father's plan to marry her off, Nathan had laughed at her efforts. Who would have guessed she had the talent to create such amazing jewelry or
possessed the determination to work the long hours needed to get ready for the show?

The writeup in the paper had garnered her a great deal of attention. The traffic in her booth had been brisk. She'd charmed her customers with her salesmanship and dazzled them with her intricate jewelry. With each piece that disappeared out of the case, Nathan had seen his business deal with her father slipping through his fingers.

Then, a couple days ago, she'd admitted that she hadn't sold enough.

So Nathan knew she'd say yes when he popped the question tonight. She might prefer a marriage based on fanciful, unrealistic emotions instead of one built on respect and admiration, but she understood that what she needed was someone to take care of her.

The only thing that was still a mystery was whether his motivation for proposing remained the same as it had been six weeks ago, or if he'd decided he couldn't contemplate his future without her in it—business deal or no.

He shied away from the question, relieved that he'd never have to answer it. An hour ago, Sebastian had stopped by to say that Lucas Smythe needed a few more days to evaluate the offer he'd received from Case Consolidated Holdings. By this time tomorrow, Nathan would be engaged to Emma and his venture with Montgomery Oil secured.

“I've got a couple tickets to the Rockets that I can't use tonight. Interested?”

Nathan spied Max in the doorway. Although resentment still bubbled inside him at all the hoops his brothers were making him jump through, Nathan appreciated Max's attempt to reach out.

“Can't. Got plans.”

“Me, too.”

Max didn't leave Nathan's doorway. “Sebastian said he gave you the numbers for the Smythe purchase.”

“I haven't had a chance to look them over yet.”

“If you're still holding out for the Montgomery Oil deal, you're wasting your time. Chances are it's not going to happen.”

“It will.” Nathan's irritation rose, but he leashed his tone, striving for civility. “In fact, I'm set to close tonight.”

“Have you really thought about what you're getting us into? We could stand to lose everything if the technology doesn't pan out.” Max regarded him, his jaw jutting forward.

“Or we could stand to make a fortune.”

“Is this really about the money, or are you just trying to destroy the family business?”

Long ago, after realizing that Sebastian and Max would never accept him as a brother, he'd put a cork in his frustration and decided that if he couldn't join them, he'd beat them. As alike as they were, he'd had no choice but to become an individual. Embedded habits were hard to break.