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Six millionaires each have to spend one month at a friend's Lake Tahoe lodge. Here's what happened to the first three …
Millionaire: Needed for One Month
Three powerful romances from three favourite Mills & Boon authors
Millionaire:
Needed for One
Month
Thirty Day Affair
His Forbidden Fiancée
Bound By The Baby
Maureen Child
Christie Ridgway
Susan Crosby
MILLS & BOON
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Thirty Day Affair
Maureen Child
MAUREEN CHILD is a California native who loves to travel. Every chance they get, she and her husband are taking off on another research trip. The author of more than sixty books, Maureen loves a happy ending and still swears that she has the best job in the world. She lives in Southern California with her husband, two children, and a golden retriever with delusions of grandeur. You can contact Maureen via her website: www.maureenchild. com.
To Christie Ridgway, Susan Crosby, Liz Bevarly, Anna DePalo and Susan Mallery
One
“Hunter,” Nathan Barrister muttered as he stared at the mammoth wood-and-stone mansion on the shores of Lake Tahoe, “if you were here right now, I'd kill you for this.”
Of course, Hunter Palmer wasn't there and Nathan couldn't kill the man who had once been his first—and best—friend, because he was already dead.
The ice around Nathan's heart thickened a little at the thought, but he used his long years of practice to ignore that tightening twinge. Regrets were a waste of time.
“As big a waste as the next month is going to be.” He climbed out of his rental car and stepped into a mound of slush he hadn't even noticed.
With a disgusted sigh, he kicked the dirty snow off the polished toe of his shoe and told himself he should have listened to the clerk at the rental agency. She had tried to tell him that renting a four-wheel-drive car would make more sense than the sports car he preferred.
But who the hell expected snow in March for God's sake?
A wry grin curved his mouth briefly. He should have expected it. He'd grown up back east and should have remembered that snow could hit anytime, anywhere. Especially this high up in the mountains. But he'd spent so much time trying to forget his past, was it really surprising that even the weather had the ability to sneak up on him?
The air was cold and clean, and the sky was so blue it made his eyes ache. A sharp wind whipped through the surrounding pine trees, rustling the needles and sending patches of snow falling to the ground with muffled plops.
Nathan shivered and shrugged deeper into his brown leather jacket. He didn't want to be here at all, let alone for a solid month. He never stayed anywhere for more than a few days at a stretch. And being here made him think about things he hadn't allowed himself to remember in years.
Reluctantly, he headed for the front of the house, leaving his bags in the car for the moment. The crunch of his shoes on the ground was the only sound, as if the world were holding its breath. Great. Fifteen minutes here and his brain was already going off on tangents.
He shouldn't be here. He should still be in Tahiti at his family's hotel, going over the books, settling disputes, looking into expansion. And next month, he'd be in Barbados for a week and then Jamaica. Nathan moved fast, never giving himself a chance to settle. Never risking more than a few days in any one place.
Until now.
And if there had been any way at all of getting out of this, Nathan would have taken it. God knows, he'd tried to find a loophole in his friend's will. Something that would have allowed him to keep both his own sense of duty in place and his sanity intact. But even the Barrister family lawyers had assured him that the will was sealed nice and tight. Hunter Palmer had made sure that his friends would have no choice but to honor his wishes.
“You're enjoying this, aren't you?” Nathan whispered to his long-dead friend. And when the wind rattled the pine trees, damned if it didn't sound like laughter.
“Fine. I'm here. And I'll try to make the whole month,” he muttered. Once he'd completed Hunter's last request, he hoped to hell his old friend would stop haunting his nightmares.
A long white envelope with his name scrawled across it was stuck to the heavy wood front door. Nathan took the short flight of snow-dusted wooden steps, stopped on the porch and tore the taped envelope free. Opening it, he found a key dangling from an ornate keychain and a single sheet of paper.
Hi, I'm your housekeeper, Meri. I'm very busy, so I'm not here at the moment, and chances are you won't be seeing me during your stay. But here's the key to the house. The kitchen is stocked and the town of Hunter's Landing is only twenty minutes away if you need anything else. I hope you and the others to follow enjoy your time here.
Without thinking, he crumpled the short note in his right hand and squeezed it hard.
The others.
In a flash of memory, Nathan went back ten years. Back to a time when he and his friends had called themselves the Seven Samurai. Foolish. But then, they'd been seniors at Harvard. They'd done four hard years together and come out the other side closer than brothers. They'd had their lives laying out in front of them like golden roads to success. He remembered the raucous evening with just a few too many beers when they'd vowed to build a house together and reunite in ten years. They'd each spend a month there and then gather in the seventh month to toast their inevitable achievements.
Yes, it was all supposed to work out that way. And then …
Nathan shook his head and let the past slide away. Jamming the key into the lock, he opened the door, stepped inside and stopped just inside the foyer. From there, he could see into a great room, with gleaming wood walls, a huge stone fireplace with a fire already ablaze in the hearth and lots of plush, comfortable-looking furniture.
As jail cells went, it was better than most, he supposed. He thought of the housekeeper and the nearby town and hoped to hell he wouldn't be bothered by a lot of people. Bad enough he was stuck here. He didn't need company on top of it.
He wasn't here to make friends. He was here to honor a friend he'd lost long ago.
An hour later, Keira Sanders grabbed the oversized basket off the passenger seat, leaped down from the driver's seat of her truck and slammed the door. Her boots slid around on the slushy ground but she dug in her heels and steadied herself. All she needed was to meet the first of Hunter Palmer's houseguests with dirty snow on her butt.
“Great first impression that would make,” she murmured as she looked the house over.
It shone like a jewel in the gathering night. Light spilled from the tall windows to fall on the ground in golden spears. Smoke lifted from the stone chimney and twisted in the icy wind coming off the lake. Snow hugged the slanted roof and clung to the pines and aspens crowding the front yard. Winter tended to stick around this high up on the mountain, and she wouldn't have had it any other way.
There was something about the cold and the quiet hush of snow that had always felt … magical to Keira. In fact, at the moment, she'd like to be back in her cozy place in Hunter's Landing, sitting beside her own fire, with a glass of white wine and a good book.
Instead, she was here to greet the first of six men who would be spending thirty days each in the lakeside mansion. Nerves jumped in the pit of her stomach but Keira fought them down. This was too important—to the town of Hunter's Landing and to her, personally.
Just two weeks ago, she'd received a very legal letter from the estate of a man named Hunter Palmer. In the letter, the late Mr. Palmer's attorney had explained the unusual bequest.
Over the next six months, six different men would be arriving in the town of Hunter's Landing, to spend thirty days in this gorgeous mansion. If each of the men stayed for the entire month, at the end of the six-month period twenty million dollars would be donated to charity—a large chunk of which would belong to Hunter's Landing—and the house itself would be donated to the town as a vacation home for recovering cancer patients.
Keira took another deep breath to settle the last of her nerves. As the mayor of Hunter's Landing, it was her job to make sure each of the six men held to the stipulations of Hunter Palmer's will. She couldn't afford for her small town to miss out on a windfall that would allow them to have a spanking-new clinic and a new jail and courthouse and …
Her head was spinning as she smiled to herself. She tightened her grip on the basket and checked to make sure the lid was latched down. Tugging at the lapels of her black jacket, she straightened her shoulders, plastered a smile on her face and prepared to meet the first of the men who could mean so much to Hunter's Landing.
She was good with people. Always had been. And now, with so much riding on the next six months, she was more determined than ever that everything go right. Not only would she ensure that each of the six men would stay his entire thirty days at the lakeside lodge, she was going to make sure they knew how much this all meant to her hometown.
With that thought firmly in mind, she gulped a deep breath of frosty air and headed for the front door. Her boots crunched in the snow but, when she hit a patch of ice, her feet slid wildly. “Oh, no.”
Eyes wide, she held tightly to the basket and swung her arms in a desperate attempt to regain her balance. But her feet couldn't find purchase and as she tipped and swayed, she knew she was going to lose both her balance and her dignity.
“Ow!” she shouted when she hit the ground, landing so hard on her butt that her teeth rattled. The basket tipped to one side and she groaned, hoping that the contents were tightly sealed. “Well, isn't this perfect.”
The front door flew open and light spilled over her. She blinked up at the man silhouetted in the doorway. Oh, man. This so wasn't how she'd planned to meet Nathan Barrister.
“Who're you?” he demanded, making no move to come down the steps to help her up.
“I'm fine, thanks for your concern,” she said, wincing as icy, wet cold seeped through the seat of her jeans. So much for first impressions. Maybe she should crawl back to her truck and start all over.
“If you're thinking of suing, you should know I don't own this property,” he said.
“Wow.” For a moment, Keira forgot all about getting up—forgot all about the fact that this man and five others just like him could mean a windfall for Hunter's Landing—and just sat there, staring at him in amazement. “You're really a jerk, aren't you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Did I say that out loud?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry.” And she was. Sort of. For heaven's sake, none of this was going as planned.
“Are you injured?”
“Only my pride,” she admitted, though her behind hurt like hell and the melting ice beneath her wasn't helping the situation any. Still, might as well make the best of the situation. She raised one hand and waved it. “A little help here?”
He muttered something she didn't catch and, considering his attitude so far, she considered that a good thing. But he came down the steps carefully, grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet in one quick motion.
His fingers on hers felt warm and strong and … good. Okay, she hadn't expected that. He dropped her hand as if he'd been burned, and she wondered if he'd felt that small zap of something hot and interesting when they touched.
She brushed off the seat of her pants while she looked up at him. For some reason she'd expected him to be an older man. But he wasn't. Tall and lean, he had broad shoulders, a narrow waist and long legs. Considering how easily he'd plucked her off the ice, he was strong, too. Not that she was heavy or anything, but she certainly wasn't one of those stick-figure types of women that were so popular these days.
Ordinarily, a man like him was more than enough to make her heart go pitty-pat. However, the scowl on his truly gorgeous face was enough to make even Keira rethink her attraction. His black hair was stylishly cut to just above his collar. His blue eyes were narrowed on her suspiciously, and his hard jaw was clenched. And his full mouth was tightened into a grim slash across his face, letting her know without a doubt just how welcome she wasn't.
“Wow. Are you really in a bad mood or is it just me?”
He blew out a breath. “Whoever you are,” he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to dip all the way inside her to start up a slow fire, “I didn't invite you here. And I'm not interested in meeting my neighbors.”
“Good,” Keira said, grinning at his obvious irritation, “because you don't have any. The nearest house on the lake is a couple miles north.”
He frowned at her. “Then who are you?”
“Keira Sanders,” she said, holding out one hand and leaving it there until rudimentary good manners forced him to take it in his.
Again, there was the nice little buzz of connection when his skin met hers. Did he feel it? If so, he wasn't real pleased about it. Keira, on the other hand, was enjoying the sensation. It had been a really long time since she'd felt the slightest attraction for anyone. Purposely. “Been there, done that” sort of summed up her feelings about romance.
But she had to admit, it was really nice to feel that sizzle.
Still shaking his hand, she smiled up into his scowl. Gorgeous, but crabby. Well, she'd dealt with irritable people before, and there was just no way she was going to let his bad attitude affect Hunter's Landing's chances at getting money that would be a godsend to the small town. “I'm the mayor of Hunter's Landing and I'm here to welcome you.”
“That's not necessary,” he said and dropped her hand.
“It's our pleasure,” she said, hanging on to her good cheer by her fingernails as she turned to pluck the basket out of the snow. “And,” she continued as she walked past him, headed toward the front door, “I've brought you a welcome basket, courtesy of the Hunter's Landing Chamber of Commerce.”
“If you don't mind,” he countered, following after her quickly.
“Not at all,” Keira said, walking into the house and stopping just inside the foyer. “I confess, I've been dying to see the inside of this place ever since they started building it last year.”
It took a moment or two, but she heard him come in behind her and close the door with an exasperated sigh. He was not just crabby, but very crabby, apparently.
But that was okay. She'd win him over. She had to. She had to make sure that he and the five others who would come after him here would complete the terms of the will that would so benefit her hometown.
“Ms. Sanders …”
“Call me Keira,” she said and turned to give him a quick glance and smile.
“Fine. Keira.” He shoved both hands into the pockets of his slacks and rocked back on his heels.
He really didn't want her there.
“Don't worry,” she said, stepping through the arched doorway into the great room, “I won't stay long. I only wanted to welcome you, let you know that you're not alone here.”
“I prefer alone,” he said flatly and she stopped halfway across the room and turned to look at him, still standing in the foyer.
“Now, why is that?” she wondered aloud.
His features tightened even further, until he looked as though he'd been carved from stone. Not really a people person, Keira decided, then shrugged.
“Anyway,” she said loudly, setting the basket down atop a hand-carved coffee table that probably cost more than her monthly house payment. “I've got a few goodies here to make your stay more comfortable.”
“I'm sure I'll be fine.”
She ignored him and started rooting through the basket, pulling items out, one after the other, with a brief description of each. “Here's a certificate good for free coffee and freshly made doughnuts every morning at the diner. And a jar of homemade jam—Margie Fontenot, the late mayor's widow, makes the best jam in the state. A bottle of wine from Stan's Liquor Stop, fresh bread from the bakery, a bag of ground Jamaican coffee beans—” she stopped to sniff the bag and sighed at the aroma, then continued “—there's a jar filled with the best marinara you've ever tasted, from Clearwater's restaurant—you really should get over there for dinner while you're here. The outside dining area overlooks the lake and there's no better place to catch a gorgeous sunset—”
“Ms. Sanders …”
“Keira,” she reminded him.
“Keira, then. If you don't mind—”
“And,” she went on as if he hadn't spoken, “there are a few more goodies in here, but I'll let you discover them on your own.”
“Thank you.”
“Now,” she said, turning to face him from across the room, “is there anything else I can do to help make your stay more interesting?”
“Leave?” he asked.
Keira shook her head at him, as if she were sorely disappointed. Wandering the great room, she ran her fingers along the deeply carved mantel over the fireplace and, just for a second or two, enjoyed the heat pouring from the hearth. Her gaze swept the rest of the room and lingered on the view of the lake out of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The moon was just beginning its climb across the sky, and the water shimmered with a breath of light as if waiting for the show to start.
She gave herself a moment or two to calm the flash of irritation inside her. Wouldn't do to insult the man whose very presence could mean so much to her town. But at the same time, she wondered why he was being so nasty. By the time she'd centered herself and turned her gaze back to him, still standing in the foyer as if he could force her to leave by simply not welcoming her in, she was wondering something else.
Why did he intrigue her so much when his rudeness should have put her off immediately?
And how was she going to make this man connect with Hunter's Landing and make a commitment to see this through when he so obviously wanted nothing to do with her or the town?
Two
Nathan had had enough.
He'd been at the lakeside mansion for a little over an hour and already he had an uninvited guest.
Plus, Keira Sanders seemed to be oblivious to insults and clearly didn't care that she was very obviously not wanted.
His gaze swept her up and down more thoroughly than he had when he'd first found her sitting in the snow. Her jeans were faded and hugged her long legs like a second skin. Her long-sleeved black sweater came down to her thighs and, ridiculously enough, made her figure look more exposed than hidden. Maybe it was the way the soft-looking fabric clung to her curves, but whatever the reason, Nathan could appreciate the view even while wishing she were anywhere but there.
Her shoulder-length, reddish-blond hair hung loose in waves that seemed to dance around her animated face whenever she moved—which was often. He'd never seen a more mobile woman. It was as if she couldn't bear standing still. She was wandering the great room, her fingers touching, stroking, everything as she passed and he couldn't help wondering what those fingers would feel like touching him.
Yet as soon as that thought hit his clearly fevered brain, he knew he had to get her the hell out of the house. He wasn't interested in a monthlong fling. That was more commitment than he'd given to any woman he'd known in the last ten years.
Best to just get her out of the house now. And if that meant being even ruder than he had been already, fine.
“Thank you for coming,” he said, waiting until she gave up examining the bookshelves to look at him again, “but if you don't mind, I'd like you to leave.”
There. A man couldn't be any more plainspoken than that.
“Wow,” she said softly, her green eyes sparkling in reflected light from the fire, “nobody ever taught you how to treat your guests?”
He swallowed hard and pushed away the thought of just how horrified his grandmother would have been at his blatant rudeness. “You're not a guest,” he said tightly, reminding her as well as himself. “You're an intruder.”
She actually laughed at him. “But I'm an intruder who brought you gifts!”
Nathan finally left the foyer, since it seemed clear that standing beside the door wasn't going to be enough to convince her to step through it. He'd never met anyone else quite like her. She seemed impervious to rudeness, just rolling right along with a cheerful attitude that must, he thought, really annoy the hell out of people who knew her well.
“Look,” Nathan said, walking across the polished floor toward her. “I've tried to be polite.”
She blinked at him and her smile widened. “Really? That was trying?”
Frowning, he ignored the jab and said, “I appreciate the gifts. Thank you for taking the time to come out here. But I would really prefer to be alone.”
“Oh, I'm sure you want to settle in,” she said, waving one hand at him, blithely ignoring his attempt to get rid of her. “And I won't stay much longer, I swear.”
Hope to cling to.
“I only wanted to let you know that Hunter's Landing is ready to help you and the other men who will be staying here in any way we can.” She wandered to the big-screen TV, picked up the remote and studied it for a second or two.
If she turned the damn thing on, she might never leave. Nathan walked to her side, took the remote and set it down on a nearby table. She shrugged, walked to the windows overlooking the lake and stood staring through the glass as if mesmerized.
He watched her and couldn't help feeling a little mesmerized himself. The fall of her hair on her shoulders. The curve of her behind. The defiant tilt to her chin. She turned to look at him and her wide, shining eyes fixed on him with a slam of power he didn't want to think about.
“You'll only be here a month,” she said quietly, “and maybe you don't realize just how important your stay and the others’ are to Hunter's Landing.”
Nathan sighed and resigned himself to at least a few more minutes of conversation. It seemed plain that Keira Sanders wasn't going to leave until she was good and ready. “I know about what your town stands to inherit from the estate.”
“But you can't know what it means to us,” she insisted, half turning to lean one shoulder against the cold glass. “With that influx of cash, we can build a new courthouse, expand our clinic …” Her voice trailed off and she smiled as if already seeing the changes that would happen to her town.
“And speaking of the clinic,” she said quickly, straightening up and walking toward him. “I want to invite you to the town potluck dinner tomorrow night. We're raising money to get the expansion started and—” “But you'll have the inheritance—” “Can't count on that until it's reality, can we?” she pointed out, neatly cutting him off before he could finish his sentence. “Anyway, our clinic is good, but it's not nearly big enough. Of course, there's a terrific hospital in Lake Tahoe, but that's a long drive, especially in the winter snow. We need to be able to take care of our own citizens right here and, with the potluck dinner, all the money collected will go directly into the fund for …”
She was talking so fast Nathan's ears were buzzing. He had no interest in going to her community fundraiser and he suspected that she didn't really want him there, either. What she wanted was a donation. Wasn't that what everyone wanted from him in the end?
With the Barrister family fortune behind him, Nathan had long ago accepted that he was seen first as a bankbook and second as a man. Which suited him fine. He didn't want friends. Didn't want a lover or a wife. What he wanted was to be left alone.
And he suddenly knew just the way to hurry Keira Sanders out the door: Give her what she wanted. What she'd really come for. While she continued to talk in nearly a stream of consciousness while hardly pausing for breath, he stalked across the room to where he'd dropped his briefcase on one of the overstuffed, burgundy leather chairs. Quickly, he opened it, grabbed his black leather checkbook and flicked his ballpoint pen.
Shaking his head, he wrote a check made out to Hunter's Landing, and then tore it from the pad and walked back to where Keira was still smiling and outlining the plans she had for her little town.
“So you see, it would be a great chance for you to meet everyone in town. Nice for you to see the place you'll be living for the next month and maybe it will help you see how important it is to us that you and your friends complete the stipulations of Mr. Palmer's will.” She finally took a breath. “If it's okay with you, I'll pick you up tomorrow about six and drive you to the potluck myself. I can take you on a tour of the lake if you'd like too and—”
“Please,” Nathan said, interrupting her when it became obvious it would be the only way to keep her quiet. He held out the check and waited until she'd taken it, a question in her beautiful eyes. “Accept this contribution to your clinic fund.”
“Oh,” she said, “that's very generous of you but—” She stopped, glanced down at the check and Nathan actually saw all the blood drain from her face. She went absolutely white and her hand holding the check trembled. “I … I … you …”
Her mouth opened and closed, she gulped noisily and wheezed in a breath. “Oh. My. God.”
“Are you all right?” Nathan reached for her, grabbed her upper arm and felt the tremors that were racing through her body.
She raised her gaze to his, waved the check in a tight fist and swallowed hard a time or two before trying to speak. Apparently, he'd finally found the way to make her speechless.
“Are you serious about this?”
“The check?”
“The amount,” she said harshly, then added, “I've got to sit down.”
And she did.
Right there on the floor.
She pulled her arm free of his grasp and folded up on herself. Leaning her head back against the closest chair, she looked up at him in stunned amazement. “I can't believe you—”
“It's just a donation,” he said.
“Of five hundred thousand dollars,” she pointed out.
“If you don't want it …”
“Oh, no!” She folded the check and stretched out her right leg so she could stuff it into her jeans pocket. Then she patted it carefully and gave him a grin. “We want it. And we thank you. I mean, the whole town is going to want to thank you. This is just wonderful. Completely generous. I don't know what to say, really—”
“And yet you keep trying,” Nathan said, feeling oddly embarrassed the longer she went on about a simple donation.
“Wow. My head's still spinning. In a good way,” she insisted, then raised one hand toward him. “A little help here?”
Nathan sighed, reached for her hand and, in one quick move, pulled her to her feet. She flew off the floor and slammed into his chest with a whoosh of air pushed from her lungs. His hands dropped to her waist to steady her and, for a quick moment, he considered kissing her.
Which surprised the hell out of him.
Keira Sanders wasn't the kind of woman who usually attracted him. For one, she was too damn talkative. He liked a woman who appreciated a good silence. And she was short. He liked tall women. And he preferred brunettes. And blue eyes.
Yet, as she looked at him, her green eyes seemed to pull at him, drawing him in, tugging him closer than he wanted to be.
With her breasts smashed up against his broad chest, Keira felt a rush of something hot and needy and completely unexpected. The man was as closed-off as a deadend road, and yet there was something about him that made her want to reach up, wrap her arms around his neck and pull his head down for a long, lingering kiss.
And it wasn't the huge check that was sitting in her pocket like a red-hot coal.
“You're a very surprising man,” she finally said when she was pretty sure she could speak without her voice breaking.
His hands dropped from her waist and he stepped back so quickly that her shaky balance made her wobble unsteadily before she found stability again.
“It's just a check.”
“It's more than that,” she assured him. God, she couldn't wait to show his donation to the town council. Eva Callahan would probably keel over in a dead faint. “You have no idea what this means to our town.”
“You're welcome,” he said tightly. “Now, if you don't mind, I have some work I have to get to.”
“No you don't,” she said, smiling.
“I'm sorry?”
“You don't have any work,” Keira said, tipping her head to one side to study him, as if getting a different perspective might help understand why such a deliberately solitary man could give away so much money without even pausing to think about it. “You just want me to go.”
“Yes.” His frown deepened. “I believe I already mentioned that.”
“So you did.” She patted the check in her pocket, swung her hair back from her face and gave him a smile. “And I'm going to oblige you.”
A flicker of something like acceptance shot across his eyes, and Keira wondered about that for a second or two. But then his features evened out into a mask of granite that no amount of staring at would ever decipher.
