Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Paying The Playboy′s Price

Paying The Playboy's Price
Emilie Rose
FOR SALE: BACHELOR #9 REFORMED BAD BOY.Checkered past included. Trouble guaranteed. Wealthy Juliana Alden longed for a taste of life on the edge. The second she saw Rex Tanner at a charity bachelor auction, she knew she had her rebel. All she had to do was buy him…. Rex hated being "purchased," especially by the so-called elite.Yet Juliana wasn't just another rich girl. The electricity between them promised much, much more. But Rex had made a vow — keep his wild behavior locked away. Because if Juliana knew just how bad he really was, he'd lose everything.



Paying The Playboy’s Price
Emilie Rose



www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To the Black Sheep.
Long may we baa and may the pasture
always be as green.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven

One
“Is our uptight account auditor ready to be corrupted? Your bachelor’s coming up next.”
Juliana Alden downed her complimentary champagne with the grace of a beer-guzzling dock worker in hopes of drowning the second thoughts swarming around her midsection like angry bees. She discarded her glass on a passing waiter’s tray and grabbed another for courage before facing Andrea and Holly, her two best friends and cohorts in tonight’s foolhardy scheme.
“I’ve never felt more naked in my life. I will never grant the two of you carte blanche with my wardrobe again. My nightie covers more skin than this slip dress.”
She yanked the thin strap of her dress back onto her shoulder again, and then tugged downward on the short hem, which barely covered her hips. Sneaking out the club’s back door gained appeal with each passing second, but if she bolted Andrea and Holly would never forgive her. Then again, they were the ones responsible for garbing her in a dress that could send her father into cardiac arrest if he ventured out of the cigar room long enough to see it, so their opinions were suspect.
Andrea waved away her objections. “You have the figure for it and red is a great color on you. Don’t wimp out now, Juliana.”
A sea of screaming, nearly hysterical women surrounded them, bidding on the men being auctioned off in the name of charity with the same ferocity as the shark feeding frenzy Juliana had witnessed at a nearby aquarium. She’d bet her monthly pedicure the walls of the prestigious Caliber Club ballroom had never reverberated in quite the same way before. The pandemonium only increased her doubts about the plan the three of them had concocted over quesadillas and, clearly, one too many margaritas.
Praying for courage and finding none, Juliana took a deep breath and then another sip of champagne. What in the world had possessed her to believe she could cast off thirty years of being a Goody Two-shoes to bid on the baddest bachelor on the auction block tonight? She should have started with a smaller rebellion, but no, she’d chosen to launch a massive insurrection on her first attempt.
As an account auditor in her family’s privately owned banking chain, she was cautious by nature. She worked a predictable job and drove a sensible sedan. She found comfort in following the rules, having her life add up in precise, orderly rows and in steadily ascending the career ladder the way her mother had before her.
But the sudden pressure to marry for the good of the company had shaken that ladder and made Juliana feel more like a commodity being bartered in the merger negotiations between Alden Bank and Trust and Wilson Savings and Loan than a human being.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. Maybe I’m not ready for the tarnish-your-halo type of man. Perhaps I should choose someone a little less…” At a loss for words, she shrugged. How could she describe the man whose picture in the bachelor auction program had given her hot flashes?
“Studly?” Holly asked with a wicked grin.
Understatement of the year. Juliana nodded.
Bachelor number nine took the stage and Juliana’s heart cha-chaed erratically. The crowd of usually dignified ladies hooted, whistled and stomped their expensively shod feet. If any man could tempt a woman to take a few risks and break a few rules, that one could. Looking completely at home in the spotlight, he flashed an I-dare-you grin and encouraged the already rowdy crowd to make more noise by clapping his hands and swinging his hips to the loud music like the headlining performer he’d once been.
The man knew how to move. She’d grant him that. A shiver skipped down her spine.
His tight black T-shirt stretched across broad shoulders, molding a well-developed chest and encircling bulging biceps. Jeans, faded in those intriguing places she ought to be embarrassed to look at rode low on lean hips, and he wore cowboy boots—something you didn’t see often in the port city of Wilmington, North Carolina. Given that every other man who’d crossed the stage before him tonight had worn a tux, the bar owner’s casual attire screamed renegade—coincidentally, the name of his bar and the word emblazoned across the back of his shirt.
Juliana’s pulse boomed so loudly she could barely hear the MC’s long-winded introduction. Had the woman never heard the old cliché “silence is golden”? If she’d hush and let people look at Rex Tanner, then her job would do itself. What woman wouldn’t want to be carried off in those muscle-corded arms or be coerced by that naughty I’m-gonna-get-you smile?
“‘Feel the power between your legs—one month of Harley and horseback-riding lessons,’” Andrea read aloud from the program. “Juliana, if this guy can’t show you what you’ve been missing, then I’m going to check to see if you still have a pulse. He’s exactly what you need to derail you from your mother’s insane idea.”
Juliana gulped the remainder of her drink. The bubbles burned her nose and brought tears to her eyes. “I’m still not convinced there’s anything wrong with my mother’s suggestion. Wally is a nice guy.”
“You’re not in love with him and he’s boring,” Holly stated.
“More effective than a sleeping pill,” Andrea added. “And he’s a pushover. You’d be wearing the pants in that relationship.”
And that was a problem? The woman-in-charge role had worked for Juliana’s parents. “I love you both for worrying about me and I understand your concerns, but logically, Wally is a good choice. He’s steady, even-tempered and ambitious—like me—and he’s the only man I’ve ever dated who understands the demands of my career and the hours it requires. We can talk for hours without an awkward silence.”
Andrea snorted. “About work. What happens when that subject gets old or, God forbid, you’re still with him when you retire? Are you going to discuss credits and debits in bed? I know you, Juliana. Once you commit to a job—or a marriage—you’ll never give up on it. Forget logic for once in your life. This is your last chance to see that there can and should be more than convenience to a relationship.”
Last chance. The phrase stuck in Juliana’s head. Her last chance before agreeing to marry Wallace Wilson—son of the owner of the bank poised to merge with Alden’s—in a sensible, but loveless match.
She shifted uneasily. Okay, maybe her friends had a point. Wally wasn’t Mr. Excitement, but he was kind, pleasant-looking and steadfast. If she married him, they’d probably have predictable Saturday-night-duty sex for the next fifty years. On the other hand, routines were good and sex wasn’t everything. It certainly shouldn’t be the basis for something as important as marriage. Emotions were volatile and unpredictable. Similar ethics and mutual respect were far more important and dependable qualities. If she married Wally, they’d develop other shared interests and love would grow over time like a safe investment….
Wouldn’t it?
Of course it would. If she had doubts, all she had to do was look at her parents. They’d married almost four decades ago to join two banking families, and they’d remained married when many of their friends had divorced.
The archway leading toward the exit drew her gaze again. Should she escape before diving off the bridge of sanity? No. A promise was a promise. But she truly hated going first. She turned back to her friends. “Swear to me you won’t back out. You will buy bachelors tonight no matter what.”
Holly and Andrea smiled angelically and raised their right hands as if taking the oath on a Bible. Juliana didn’t trust those smiles. While her friends’ lives might not be as methodically plotted out as hers, tonight’s escapade was totally out of character for all three of them. Surely one of them would come to her senses before the evening ended?
The microphone screeched, jerking Juliana’s attention back to the hunk commanding center stage—the one she’d been trying hard to ignore. How could any woman resist him? The man was a Grade-A gorgeous devil from his thick black ponytail to his worn low-heeled boots. He wouldn’t need to read an instruction manual to know how to pleasure a woman—assuming that woman could be pleased.
But purchasing the cowboy’s package would take more than recklessness and champagne courage. It meant flagrantly disregarding her mother’s wishes—something she’d carefully avoided until now for fear of the repercussions. But Juliana had to admit the proposed engagement combined with her thirtieth birthday had left her wondering if there was more to life. She’d promised Holly and Andrea she’d investigate the possibility before meekly agreeing to the future her mother had planned for her.
That didn’t prevent Juliana from wondering if she’d taken on a bigger challenge than she could handle when she’d selected her bachelor—a man the complete opposite of anyone she’d dated in the past. She said a silent prayer that the rebel’s price would exceed the limit she, Andrea and Holly had agreed upon, and then she could choose a less intimidating man.
Coward. If you do, then your plan will fail.
Her plan was beginning to sound more than a little like tequila madness. For once in her life, Juliana had decided to break the rules and, since she didn’t have the first clue where to start, she’d chosen Rex Tanner, a hell-raising rebel who she hoped would lead her astray. For the next month, she’d put herself in his corrupting hands and then once she had this last fling out of the way and she was certain she wasn’t missing out on anything worthwhile, she could marry Wally with no regrets.
“Go home before you get into trouble.”
Juliana nearly tumbled off her flimsy sandals at her bossy older brother’s growled warning. She refused to admit she’d like nothing more than to turn and run as fast as her heels would carry her. To annoy Eric, she raised her numbered fan, offering the first bid on Mr. Too-Hot-To-Handle.
Andrea and Holly grinned and gave her thumbs-up. Juliana didn’t dare glance across the room to where her mother, the charity event’s chief organizer, watched with an eagle eye.
She tilted her head back to glare at her brother. “How much trouble can a month of riding lessons cause? Go away, Eric.”
“I’m not worried about the horseback-riding lessons because you already know how to ride. It’s the other half of the prize that concerns me. You’ll kill yourself on a motorcycle. Be reasonable, Juliana. You are not the most coordinated person on the planet.”
The barb stung—mostly because it was true. In fact, these days she limited her exercise routine to swimming because then she wouldn’t fall off anything and get hurt when her mind strayed to work issues.
Eric attempted to take her numbered paddle, but Juliana snatched it out of his reach and stabbed it into the air. “I’m thirty years old—too old for you to be telling me what to do.”
“Somebody needs to. You and your friends—” he glared at Holly and Andrea “—must have been out of your minds to come up with this plan. Buying men, for crissakes. If you want to support the charity, buy Wallace and not this—”
“Hunk,” Holly interrupted, earning a scowl from Eric.
Juliana pasted on the placating smile she reserved for difficult customers. “Actually, Eric, our mother came up with the bachelor-auction idea. Andrea, Holly and I are merely supporting her efforts.”
“Dammit, Juliana, you can’t handle a guy like him. He’ll chew you up and spit you out. Use your brain. Buy Wally. He’s…safe.” He snatched at Juliana’s fan again and once more she jerked it away.
Safe. Those four letters said it all. She’d played it safe her entire life and where had that gotten her? Ahead in her career, but pathetically far behind in her personal life. She’d never fallen head over heels in love or even lust, and she couldn’t help wondering if she was capable of such intense emotions. Not that she wanted the heartache, but was it too much to ask for bells, whistles and earth-moving orgasms? For a woman like her—one who trusted cold, hard facts more than fickle emotions? Probably. But for once in her life, she didn’t want to play it safe.
She glanced at the man on the stage. Safe didn’t make her skin tingle or her breath quicken. She shoved the paddle into the air this time holding it high above her head and slightly behind her. Her brother was taller, but he was as conservative as she was. He wouldn’t make a scene or wrestle her to the ground to keep her from bidding.
“I don’t want to buy Wally. Saturday-night suppers? How unimaginative is that? Besides, I already have a standing dinner date with him on Fridays. What’s wrong with having a little fun? You should try it sometime.”
And then she winced. Eric had been very publicly jilted a few months ago and fun was probably the last thing on his mind. She suspected his heart hadn’t been broken, but his pride had to have taken a serious blow. The worst part was that since he’d failed to marry into the Wilson banking family, her mother had decided Juliana should.
She waved her paddle—a little more desperately this time. “Eric, I have carefully thought this out, and I know what I’m doing, so leave me alone.”
“Sold to number 223,” the MC shouted from the stage. “Pay up and collect your prize, young lady.”
Juliana’s stomach plunged to her crimson-painted toenails. She looked from Eric to her mother’s horrified expression. Andrea and Holly clapped and cheered. Juliana didn’t need to double-check her number to know she’d won the rebel, and she had no idea how much she’d paid for him—a true shock for someone who tracked money for a living. Slowly lowering her arm, she swallowed and briefly closed her eyes as a bolt of unadulterated panic zigzagged through her. She wasn’t ready to face the stage and the consequences of her virgin voyage into mutiny. She might never be ready.
Dizziness forced her to inhale. She faked a smile for Eric and anyone else who might be watching. “Thank you for your concern, big brother, but aren’t you supposed to be behind the curtain getting ready for your turn on the block?”
Eric flinched and paled. A smidgen of guilt pricked Juliana for verbally jabbing his sore spot with a deliberate taunt. Her brother was not happy their mother had shanghaied him as a bachelor. But Eric wasn’t Juliana’s problem right now. She had her own catastrophe-in-the-making to handle. Dread ballooned inside her.
With her brother’s muttered curses and Andrea and Holly’s “Go get ’ems” ringing in her ears, Juliana made her way to the table in the corner of the room and handed over her check to collect her…gulp…prize.
Her mother, with fury in her eyes, met her there. “Juliana Alden, are you out of your mind? And where in the world did you find that disgraceful dress?”
Juliana’s insides clenched tighter as all her doubts ambushed her at once. She must have been temporarily insane to agree to Andrea’s suggestion that they celebrate their thirtieth birthdays by spending part of their trust funds on something wild, wicked and totally selfish.
No, not insane. Desperate. If she couldn’t feel the heart-pounding passion other women whispered about with a man as blatantly sexy as the rebel, then she was a lost cause, and she’d be better off with a man like Wally who wouldn’t expect more than she could deliver.
But while Juliana admired her mother’s business acumen and hoped to emulate Margaret Alden’s career success, the two of them had never been close, so confessing the tangle of emotions driving her decision wasn’t a viable option.
“Mother, I have always done everything you’ve ever asked of me, but tonight, this—he—is for me.”
She glanced beyond her mother’s shoulder. Juliana’s prize stalked toward her in long purposeful strides, and the hairs on her neck rose. Why did she feel like cornered prey? Determined not to be cowed by the cocky challenge in his eyes, she assumed the debutante pose her mother had drilled into her—tall and regal, chin high—and hoped her knees weren’t visibly knocking beneath her scandalously short hem.
From a distance of ten yards—and closing far too quickly—the rebel’s dark gaze drifted over her, making her intensely aware that she wore nothing but a thong beneath the thin dress.
Had she ever met a man who oozed this much sexuality? Definitely not. Her pulse fluttered irregularly and her skin tightened and warmed.
“What about Wallace?” her mother whispered angrily.
With great effort, Juliana tore her gaze away from her prize and refocused on her mother. “I will very likely spend the rest of my life with Wally. Neither of you should begrudge me a month of riding lessons.”
Her mother’s lips flattened. “One month and then I fully expect you to come to your senses. The Wilsons are a fine family and Wallace has impeccable manners.” Her mother could be describing a pedigreed pooch, but then her mother would probably prefer a well-trained lap dog to a real man. “Be assured your father won’t be as understanding.”
No, he definitely would not. He’d be whatever her mother told him to be. As much as Juliana loved her father, she wasn’t blind to his faults.
“Hey, babe.” The deep gravelly voice sent goose bumps parading over Juliana’s skin. She ignored her mother’s shocked gasp and faced the man who’d come to a halt a yard away. The heat in his naughty smile and coffee-colored eyes robbed the strength from Juliana’s knees. He offered his hand. “I’m Rex and I’m going to teach you to ride.”
Ride what? Or whom? The questions popped involuntarily into her head and she couldn’t breathe. Her teeth met with an audible click when she closed her mouth. She had definitely bitten off more of a challenge than she could chew. Rex Tanner was bigger, sexier and far more intimidating up close than he’d been onstage or in the tiny two-inch picture printed in the program. Even in her heels, Juliana’s eyes barely reached the level of his mouth. What a mouth. And boy, did he look like he knew how to use it.
That is what you wanted, isn’t it?
No. Yes. No. Ohmigod, Eric was right. I can’t handle a man like Rex Tanner.
Yes, I can. And I will.
The corners of his lips quirked upward as if he were used to dumbstruck females.
Embarrassed, Juliana pasted on a polite smile. Her fingers trembled as she slid her hand into Rex’s. “Hello, Rex. I’m Juliana.”
Warm, callused skin abraded her palm as he grasped her hand, and when he slid his other arm around her shoulders, pulled her closer and turned her toward the photographer, every cell in Juliana’s body screeched in alarm at the searing press of his flesh against her side and his long fingers curved over her bare shoulder.
“Smile, babe,” he whispered in a voice as rough and piercing as a rusty nail. She felt the impact deep in her womb.
His leather-and-outdoors scent enveloped her, and his nearness made her woozy. She blamed the stars in her eyes on the camera’s flash and knew she lied.
As soon as Octavia Jenkins, the newspaper reporter covering the event, and her photographer sidekick departed, Juliana quickly disengaged and scrambled to make order out of her chaotic response. The temptation to discover how those long, slightly rough fingers would feel on the rest of her skin was a totally new experience and a step in the right direction if she found the courage to follow through with her plan.
If? You have planned this for weeks. You are absolutely committed to following through. No backing out now.
Overly conscious of her mother’s disapproval and the stares of the other patrons aimed at them, Juliana met Rex’s gaze.
“Why don’t we get out of here?” Her words gushed out in a breathless invitation instead of the firm request she’d intended.
A bone-melting smile slanted his lips. “That’s the best offer I’ve had all night.”
After delivering a lengthy, censuring look, her mother pivoted and stormed off in a regal huff. Juliana turned in the opposite direction and headed for the exit before she could turn coward and ask for her money back. Without looking over her shoulder, she knew Rex Tanner followed. She could feel him behind her, hear the rhythmic thud of his boots on the marble floor, see the jealous glares of the women they passed directed toward her and the appreciative appraisals aimed at him. Many of those women were married and some were old enough to be his mother.
Rex reached past her to push open the club’s front door, and a blast of sobering air smacked Juliana’s face as she stepped outside.
Dear heavens. She’d bought herself a bad boy.
What was she going to do with him?
And how far was she willing to let this experiment go?

Bought by a spoiled rich chick with more money than sense.
Rex studied Juliana’s arrogant bearing and questioned his sanity in agreeing to his sister’s crazy suggestion to use the bachelor auction to publicize his bar. If the bank note weren’t coming due in sixty days, then nothing could have persuaded him to get back on a stage in front of screaming women.
Been there. Done that. Burned by it.
Self-disgust didn’t stop him from appreciating the tasty morsel in front of him as she swished her red-wrapped hips away from the noise and chaos inside. Her lingerie-style dress looked like something she’d wear to bed instead of to a swanky country club, and the dark curtain of hair bouncing between her shoulder blades glowed with the same rich patina of his old guitar.
For the first time since moving to Wilmington, he found himself attracted to a woman, but everything about Juliana, from her cultured southern voice to her expensive clothing and the chunk of change she’d dropped on him tonight, screamed money. Rich gals like her didn’t settle for rough-off-the-ranch guys like him long-term, and he’d had enough meaningless encounters to last a lifetime. When he’d left Nashville and the groupies behind, he’d sworn he’d never use or be used by a woman again. As long as Juliana realized that she’d bought his auction package and nothing else, they’d get along fine. But before he followed her wherever she was headed, he needed to be certain of one thing.
“Hey, Juli,” he called as they reached the semicircular stairs leading down to the parking lot.
She jerked to a halt and spun to face him. Her bright blue eyes nearly made him forget what he was going to say.
Her chin inched upward. “My name is Juliana.”
Stuck-up or not, she didn’t look like the kind of woman who had to buy men. “Yeah, sure. You have a jealous husband who’ll be gunning for me?”
A confused frown puckered her brows. “A husband?”
“The guy trying to stop you from bidding,” he clarified.
“That was my brother. I’m not married.”
“’S’all right then as long as you’re over twenty-one.”
Her long lashes fluttered and a pleat formed between her eyebrows. “You have jealous husbands chasing you?”
She’d ignored his comment about age. “Not anymore.”
Her red lips parted and her chest—a damned fine chest—rose. “But you did?”
“Yeah.” Most guys didn’t take it well when they found out their wives had slept with another man. Rex hadn’t taken the news that some of the groupies were married well, either—especially since the info had often been delivered via their husbands’ fists after the intimate encounters.
He thought he heard Juliana wheeze as she turned to descend the steps. He’d have to be dead not to appreciate her long, sleek and sexy-as-all-get-out legs atop those red heels. She stopped abruptly at the base of the stairs with a distressed expression on her pretty face.
“Problem?”
She touched long slender fingers to her temple and then against her throat. “I rode with friends. I don’t have a car, and I want to…” She looked past his shoulder and panic flared in her eyes.
He turned and spotted the pearl-clad dragon lady who’d organized the event and an uptight-looking man coming through the front door of the club. Understanding dawned. “You want to get out of here?”
“Yes, and fast.”
“Did you write a bad check?”
Impossible as it seemed, her regal posture turned even starchier, as if he’d insulted her. “Of course not. Please, get me out of here.”
These days he avoided ugly scenes. “My bike’s this way.”
Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. She gestured to her skimpy attire. “I’m hardly dressed for a motorcycle ride.”
He ought to leave her, but dammit, he’d agreed to this stupid auction and he would follow through. Besides, he wouldn’t wish the dragon lady on anybody. “I don’t see any taxis. If you need to make a fast getaway, then I’m your only option. Where to? Home?”
She grimaced. “Anywhere but there.”
“Let’s go.” He grabbed her elbow and towed her toward his Harley. She jogged to keep up. When they reached the side of his motorcycle—one of a handful of items he’d kept from his past—he tossed her his spare helmet and waited to see that she knew how to fasten it before donning his own. “Hop on and hold on.”
Seconds later she’d mounted the bike behind him and gingerly clutched his waist, but she kept several inches between them. He twisted the throttle. The engine roared and the bike surged forward as he released the clutch. Her squeal pierced the deep growl of the Harley, and then her arms banded around him with close to rib-cracking force, erasing the gap between them.
Big mistake. Having her naked legs wrapped around his hips with the heat of her crotch pressed snugly against his butt just might melt a few brain cells. And if he couldn’t ignore the softness of her breasts mashing against his shoulder blades and concentrate on the road, then he’d end up wrapping the bike around a telephone pole.
Warm, humid air rushed past them, fluttering her short skirt and baring more of her toned thighs. He forced his eyes away from the tantalizing sight and back on the road. Where could he take her? The shorter the ride, the better. The roar of the engine made asking impossible. Might as well take her to his place since he and Juliana needed to compare calendars and set up the riding lessons.
Pride filled his chest as Renegade’s lights came into view. He’d bought the vacant riverfront building in the historical district eight months ago. It had taken a lot of sweat and most of his cash to turn the downstairs into a business and the upstairs into a home his sister Kelly and her girls could visit. He’d opened his doors four months ago, but business hadn’t been as brisk as he’d hoped—hence his participation in the auction.
He pulled into his narrow private driveway, automatically counting the empty parking spaces out front as he passed. If he wanted to stay in Wilmington near his sister, then he had to turn a profit soon and pay off the bank note.
He parked, climbed from the bike and removed his helmet. Juliana remained seated. She fumbled to unfasten her chin strap and then pulled off her helmet. Rex rocked back on his heels with a silent whistle of admiration. Now there was a centerfold-quality picture—minus the staples—guaranteed to keep a man up all night. Mile-long legs straddling the Harley’s black seat, red strappy heels, skimpy dress, beautiful face, tumbled hair. A hot package.
But good-looking women had caused him plenty of trouble before, so he tamped down his physical response and offered his hand. Gingerly, she curled her soft fingers around his and then struggled to draw her leg over the seat. A glimpse of her candy apple–red panties hit his belly like a fireball.
He caught her elbow as she wobbled on her heels on the cobblestone sidewalk. The evening breeze plastered the silky fabric of her dress against her puckered nipples. Was she wearing anything besides those panties under there? His pulse revved faster. Forget it, Tanner.
She scrubbed her arms and her tiny silver purse sparkled in the streetlights like rhinestones under stage lights. “Could we go inside?”
He motioned for her to precede him. When he reached past her to open the door, her scent, an intoxicating mixture of flowers and spice, filled his lungs. She stepped inside and looked around.
What did she think of his place? He’d played on Wilmington’s TV and film industry. The bar’s theme was movie rebels and renegades—men Rex had identified with back when he’d been a teen who couldn’t wait to break free from family ranching tradition. He’d escaped the day he’d turned eighteen but, seventeen years later, the guilt of his bitter parting words still haunted him.
The bar itself took up most of the back wall. He’d filled the floor with tables—too many of which were empty on a Saturday night. The waitresses leaned against the back wall.
“You don’t have any memorabilia from your music career in here.”
The comment stopped him in his tracks. Juliana knew who he was even though he’d deliberately excluded his recent past in the auction bio. Had she bought him for the braggin’ rights of bedding Rex Tanner, former Nashville bad boy? She wouldn’t be the first with that goal. And as appealing as the idea of hitting the sheets with Juliana might be, he didn’t want his old life intruding here. “No.”
Her assessing gaze landed on him. “Wouldn’t it be wise to trade on what people know of you?”
And be known as a has-been for the rest of his life? No thanks. “My music career is over. If people want a honky-tonk they can go elsewhere. Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thank you. May I stay here for an hour or so? As soon as the auction ends, I can call a friend for a ride.”
“I’ll take you home after we schedule your lessons.” Her eyes widened. “I have a truck if you don’t want to get back on the bike.”
“Thank you, but I think I’ll stay with one of my girlfriends tonight. She can come and get me. My car is at her place anyway. We rode to the auction together.”
Why would a rich chick need to hide? She looked over the age of consent, but looks could be deceiving. “How old did you say you were?”
She hesitated. “I didn’t say, but I’m thirty, if you must know. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that it’s rude to ask?”
His mother had taught him a lot of things. And like an ungrateful SOB, he’d thrown her lessons back in her face. “Aren’t you a little old to be running away from home?”
“You don’t understand. My parents…” She trailed off and took an anxious peek over his shoulder as if she expected them to burst through the door. “They won’t understand about tonight.”
“I don’t have to know the whole story to know running’s not going to solve anything.” A lesson he’d learned the hard way.
“But—”
He held up a hand. “And I don’t want to know the whole story. I’m here to give you riding lessons. That’s it.”
How did she manage to look down her nose at him when she was a good six to eight inches shorter than he was? “Fine.”
He considered leaving her at the bar and going to his apartment to get his calendar, but she and her sexy dress had already caught the attention of the guys in the back corner. The men were regulars, friends of his deployed brother-in-law, and Rex didn’t want anything to happen that would keep them from coming back. “Upstairs.”
He waved to Danny, and pointed toward the private entrance leading to his apartment. From the wiseass smirk on his manager’s face, Danny probably thought the boss was about to get laid. The thought sent a Roman candle of heat through Rex’s veins. He doused it. He’d dodged every advance thrown his way since opening, and he wasn’t about to get sucked into that drainpipe now.
Rex pulled his keys from his pocket, unlocked the door and motioned for Juliana to precede him up the stairs. If she wanted more than Harley and horseback-riding lessons from him, then she’d be disappointed.

Two
Who’d have guessed that after all these years of not getting hot and bothered that she could get turned on by something mechanical? Although Juliana suspected the motorcycle ride wasn’t entirely to blame for her discombobulation.
“Have a seat.” Rex prowled around the den of his apartment flicking on lamps to reveal a very masculine decor of cappuccino-colored leather and dark wood. The furniture looked expensive but not new. Relics from his days at the top of the country-music charts?
Juliana perched on the edge of the sofa tallying sensations and classifying the wide range of emotions she’d experienced tonight. Safe wasn’t among them. She had an inkling this might be the beginnings of lust, but she couldn’t be sure.
Fingers of wind had ripped at her clothing and tried to pull her off the bike when Rex had raced the motorcycle down a long, straight section of road. The scream bubbling in her throat had been caused by terror mixed with a smidgen of excitement. Each time he’d leaned into a curve, her heart had pounded so hard she’d thought it would explode. He’d probably have bruises tomorrow from where she’d clutched him so tightly. By the time they’d arrived at Renegade she’d practically burrowed under his skin.
And she’d liked it there.
Rex’s abs had been steady and rock-hard beneath her knotted fingers, and the rough texture of jeans had abraded the sensitive skin of her inner thighs and the tender flesh between her legs. The heat of his broad back had seeped through his T-shirt and her thin dress to warm her breasts more effectively than any caress she’d ever experienced. When he’d climbed from the bike, her legs had been too weak to follow. In fact, they still hadn’t quit shaking.
Which caused her extreme reaction? Fear or physical attraction? She didn’t have much experience with either. In the past, she’d always been drawn by a man’s intelligence more than his physique, but her reaction to Rex had nothing to do with his brain. She hated to admit she was shallow enough to look forward to exploring this new terrain.
He sat beside her on the sofa, opened a calendar on the coffee table and then angled to face her. The outside seam of his jeans scraped her knee and thigh. A shiver worked its way to the pit of her stomach and settled there like a hot rock.
“I usually work nights, so your lessons will have to be late mornings or on my days off. Which works for you?” The flirtatiousness he’d displayed at the auction disappeared behind a no-nonsense businesslike demeanor. Since she was counting on him to lead her astray, that wasn’t a desirable development.
“I work weekdays.”
“Doing what?”
With him sitting this close and holding her gaze that way, Juliana had a hard time remembering what consumed most of her week. His scent and proximity had the oddest effect on her ability to think clearly. Funny, she lived for her job…What was it again? Oh, yes. “I’m an account auditor with Alden Bank and Trust.”
His narrowed gaze traveled slowly from her face to her bare shoulders, over her dress and then her legs. Her body reacted as if he’d touched her by tightening, liquefying.
So this was animal attraction? She’d heard others talk about it, but she’d never experienced the sensation. She wanted to pick it apart and study the components the way she would account entries during an audit. Flushed skin. A tingle in her veins. Accelerated heart rate. Dampened palms.
“You don’t look like any bean counter I’ve ever met.” His skeptical expression robbed the words of any compliment and hit a sore spot. After earning an MBA from the local university, Juliana had accepted a position in the family bank’s home office. She’d had to work doubly hard to prove her worth and quiet the rumors of nepotism, and she’d been proving herself ever since. But this wasn’t work. She wanted Rex to see her as a desirable woman, not as a highly credentialed bank auditor.
“I’ve always been good with numbers.” She downplayed. It was people skills she lacked. Growing up, her brother had been the socially adept one who’d held the titles of class president, homecoming king and every other desirable position. Juliana had been an ugly duckling who’d preferred books and horses to people. Andrea and Holly had been, and still were, her only close friends.
Rex thumped a beat on the table with his pen, drawing her attention back to his big, rough and scarred workman’s hands. She’d listened to his music and it amazed her that such strong, masculine hands could pluck a guitar so beautifully. “We’ll meet after you get off work on Mondays and Thursdays, my days off. That’ll give us a couple of hours of daylight.”
She caught herself watching his lips move, blinked and refocused on his eyes—dark, knowing eyes that seemed to look right inside her.
“I’ve leased a smaller bike for you,” he continued, “but you can’t drive it until you’ve earned your motorcycle learner’s permit and mastered a few basic skills.”
The unexpected turn of the conversation pulled her from her corporeal exploration. “A learner’s permit?”
“Required by North Carolina law. I’ll give you the booklet tonight. Start studying. You’ll have to take a written test at the Department of Motor Vehicles.”
Her prize package required her to take a test? That hadn’t been in the fine print, and she always read the fine print. “I work fifty to sixty hours a week. When am I supposed to find time to study and take a test?”
“Before the end of the month—unless you want the newspaper to report that you couldn’t pass.”
Her competitive instincts stirred. She hadn’t taken a driving test in fifteen years, but she’d always been an excellent student. “Fine. Twice a week at six o’clock for four weeks.”
“I’ll let the reporter know.” He closed the calendar and planted his hands on his knees. “Listen, Juliana, Renegade needs all the publicity it can get out of the newspaper series. You might not have noticed but the place isn’t packed.”
“I noticed. Business accounts are a large part of my job. Empty tables mean reduced revenue and reduced revenue means—”
He leaned toward her. Her mind went blank and her heart leaped in anticipation. She snatched a quick breath, wet her lips and lifted her mouth, but Rex didn’t kiss her. Instead he dragged a fluffy pink boa and a small pink purse from beneath his sofa cushion and sat back again.
She blinked in surprise. Had she bought a cross-dresser? “Yours?” she squeaked.
The rugged lines of his face softened and his eyes warmed, turning her insides to mush. “My nieces’.”
Shock receded. The rebel had nieces. And judging from his expression, he had a soft spot in his heart for them. The idea of using him to further her um…physical education had been a lot easier when she’d believed him to be one-hundred-percent bad boy, a heartless seducer of innocents, a man who’d get the job done and not think twice about it. Now the images of reckless rebel, concerned business owner and doting uncle tangled in a confusing mass in her head. But instead of turning her off, the combination intrigued her and made her want to know more. Not a good idea since this was a short-term project.
He stood and tossed the dress-up items into a wicker basket in the corner. “Let me make one thing clear. You bought horseback and Harley riding lessons and you’re going to get them. But riding lessons are all I’m offering.”
Half-dozen heartbeats later, his meaning sank in. Mortification burned over her skin like a desert wind. Was she so transparent? He couldn’t know that she wondered how he’d kiss, how he’d taste and, more specifically, how she’d react to his embrace. Could he?
She wobbled to her feet. “I—I appreciate your candor.”
“You ready to call for your ride yet?”
He couldn’t wait to get rid of her. How embarrassing. Had she ever had a date so eager to show her the door? “Certainly.”
The evening was not going as she’d anticipated and she had no idea how to get it back on track. What did she know about seduction? She’d counted on him doing all the work.
Why hadn’t she developed a backup plan?

“So is he as great as he looks or is he all beauty, brawn and no brains?” Holly asked as Juliana climbed into her friend’s Jeep outside Renegade.
“He’s not just a pretty face.” His dedication to his nieces and his business savvy in using the auction and the monthlong newspaper coverage as advertising proved Rex was more than an empty-headed pretty boy. “Did you get your firefighter?”
Holly abruptly reached for the radio and flipped through the stations. “No.”
The rat. Had she and Andrea chickened out after sending Juliana into the bidding wars like a sacrificial lamb? “You promised you’d buy him.”
“No, I promised I’d buy a bachelor and I did. The firefighter went for more money than we agreed upon—although you certainly broke that rule, didn’t you? Besides, Eric was desperate.”
Juliana recoiled. “Eric! My brother, Eric?”
Holly darted a glance in her direction and nodded.
“You cheated.”
“No, I didn’t. I wanted a man who would give me candlelit dinners and take me dancing. Eric’s package promises Eleven Enchanted Evenings.”
Juliana didn’t like the blissful smile on Holly’s face—not in connection to her brother. “But it’s Eric.”
“So?”
“You wanted romance. Eric is no Prince Charming to your Cinderella. I’m having really icky thoughts of my brother kissing you good night, and I don’t want to go there.” She shuddered.
“I know you don’t want to believe it, Juliana, but Eric is as much of a hunk as your rebel.”
“Ick. Ick.” She stuck her fingers in her ears. No matter what her friend said, Holly had cheated by taking the safe way out. She unplugged her ears. “You and Andrea convinced me to go out on a limb and buy Rex. There is no risk involved in buying someone you know. Did Andrea also turn coward? Who did she buy?”
“Clayton.”
Sympathy squeezed Juliana’s heart and she sighed. “So she’s really going through with it, then?”
“That’s what she said.” Holly didn’t sound any happier about the situation than Juliana.
“I hope he doesn’t break her heart again.”
“I hope your rebel doesn’t break yours. Those were some serious sparks between you when he walked you out.”
Sparks? One-sided sparks, maybe. Rex Tanner didn’t seem the least bit interested in fanning the flames Juliana could feel licking at her toes. At the moment, she had no idea how she’d change his mind, but given what she knew of his past, it shouldn’t be too difficult.
“You are completely off base with that observation, my friend, and my heart will be just fine, thank you. Remember, my time with Rex Tanner is limited. He’d never fit in with my long-term career goals, and I seriously doubt an anal-retentive bank auditor whose idea of adventure is trying a new shade of nail polish would fit in with his.”

Rex peeled his gaze from Juliana’s behind for the fifth time and shook his head. Jodhpurs. He should have expected as much from a high-society chick who wrote five-figure checks without blinking.
“Next time wear jeans.” Her formal riding attire was a far cry from Saturday night’s scanty, sexy dress, but her jodhpurs looked as if they’d been spray painted over the luscious curve of her butt, and her sleeveless cotton blouse conformed to the shape of her breasts like a lover’s hands. She’d pulled her shiny hair back with a clip and perched one of those prissy black velvet hard hats on her head—the kind horse-jumping folks wore. The siren-red nail polish was gone and so was most of her makeup. She looked better without the war paint. And why was he noticing? Her smooth skin had nothing to do with riding lessons.
“The boots are okay, and I can live with the hat.”
“Please stop. Your flattery will turn my head,” she replied with a hint of sarcasm, making him wonder if he’d read her lingering glances wrong Saturday night. “If I can find the time, I’ll buy some jeans before Thursday.”
He paused with the saddle midair. “You don’t own a pair of jeans?”
“No. Casual Friday at the bank never gets that casual. You certainly have a lot of requirements for this package that weren’t included in the description listed in the program.”
“Most of it’s common sense.” He settled the saddle and saddle pad on Jelly Bean, the palomino mare he’d bought for his nieces. “Putting on a western saddle is similar to an English one. Here’s how you secure it.”
After demonstrating, he unfastened everything and stepped back. “Your turn.”
Juliana tackled the task, but the mare tended to be lazy on hot summer afternoons. She bloated her stomach to prevent the tightening of the cinch around her belly. Juliana lacked the strength to make Jelly Bean exhale.
Positioning himself behind her, the way he did with the girls, he reached around to help her pull the leather strap. Having his arms around an attractive woman made his veins hum. He tried to ignore it. Unlike with his petite three- and five-year-old nieces, Juliana’s taller frame lined up against his like a spoon in a drawer. Or a lover in bed. The mare shifted, bumping Juliana and her tightly wrapped behind against him.
Within seconds, her pants weren’t the only tight ones. Rex steadied her and then stepped back, putting several yards and the hitching post between them. “Try the bridle next.”
Juliana definitely knew her way around a horse. She rested the mare’s muzzle against her breasts while she eased the bridle over her ears and brushed her forelock out of her eyes, and then she rewarded Jelly Bean for cooperating with a stroke down her golden neck and a scratch between her perked up ears.
He envied the horse being pressed between Juliana’s breasts. Unacceptable. The auditor was off-limits. “Mount up.”
She lifted her foot a couple of feet off the ground until the pull of fabric across her hips restricted her movements, and then she put her boot back down and looked at him over her shoulder. “Would you give me a leg up?”
Was there more than a legitimate request for help in her words? A tentative smile quivered on her lips—nothing seductive about it. In fact, he’d swear he saw nervousness in her eyes.
Get over yourself, Tanner. What does it say about your ego that you suspect every woman you meet of trying to get into your pants?
“Sure.” As he did with the girls, he clasped Juliana’s waist and lifted. Bad move. He didn’t need to know that her waist was tiny or that her body heat would penetrate the thin fabric of her pants. He yanked his hands free so quickly Jelly Bean—the calmest horse he’d ever encountered—spooked and sidestepped. Rex lunged forward again, expecting Juliana to fall off, but she grabbed the saddle horn and managed to stay on.
“Is this another test?” More sarcasm. Okay, he’d definitely read her wrong.
She shifted in the saddle, and then stood in the stirrups and sank back down. She repeated the motion a couple of times. “This saddle feels odd, but comfortable.”
Tugging at the suddenly tight collar of his T-shirt, he looked away, cleared his throat and shifted his stance to ease the pinch of his jeans. The last time he’d seen a woman move like that, she’d been riding him. How long ago had that been? Too long. And hell, he couldn’t remember her name or what she’d looked like.
There had been a lot of nameless encounters in his past—not something he was proud of now, but at the time he’d been floating on a wave of fame, taking the women who fell at his feet for granted and using them to make himself believe he was finally somebody. He’d been somebody all right. Somebody stupid.
His bandmates had used booze or drugs to come down from a post-performance high. Rex had used women—a practice that now disgusted him. He was damned lucky his carousing hadn’t landed him in the morgue or given him an STD the way his father had predicted. Most of Rex’s father’s lectures had gone in one ear and out the other, but thank God the safe-sex one had stuck.
Rex had had a lucky escape, and he planned to put his sordid past behind him in a new city with a new career. He’d be the kind of brother he should have been to Kelly and an uncle Kelly’s girls would be proud to claim. With their father deployed overseas, they needed someone they could depend on when their mom needed help.
Back to business. “The seat of a western saddle is deeper than an English one. It conforms to your shape.” And a damned fine shape it is. “Take the reins in your hand with only one finger between them.”
She did as he instructed, but looked unsure.
“Western horses move away from pressure and they prefer slack reins,” he explained.
She stared down at him with a doubtful expression. “If my reins are slack how am I going to control the horse?”
“Use a soft touch. Your fingers and wrist work the bit, and rely on leg cues more than the bridle.” Which drew his attention back to the length of her legs and the curve of her butt. If he didn’t get his brain out of his briefs, she could get hurt. That kind of publicity wouldn’t help the bar. “You know how to use leg cues?”
“Yes.”
“Then signal her to walk.”
Jelly Bean started forward. Rex kept pace beside them. A light evening breeze carried Juliana’s perfume downwind, filling his lungs with her scent every time he inhaled.
He cursed his uncharacteristic distraction. Usually, he had tunnel vision. He saw what needed doing and didn’t waver from his set course. His career and the destruction of it were perfect examples. He’d wanted to make it to the top and he had, and then, after his parents had died, he’d wanted out, but contracts had held him prisoner. Before leaving Nashville, he’d made sure he’d burned all his bridges. He shook his head to clear it. Focus.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Your motion. You’re perching on top of the saddle instead of sinking into it, and every one of your muscles is strung as tight as a bow. Relax your upper body and your legs. Slump into the saddle.”
“All my life I’ve been taught to sit up straight, and you’re telling me to slouch?” Her haughty tone was exactly what he needed to remind himself of the differences between them.
“Not exactly, but you have to relax here.” He quickly tapped the base of her spine with a fingertip. “Here.” He nudged her thigh with his knuckle. “And here.” His palm brushed her lower abdomen. He quickly withdrew it. Her body heat scalded his skin. He stepped away from the horse and crossed to the center of the riding ring. Ten yards wasn’t enough distance to douse the fire smoldering in his gut.
“Cue her to jog when you’re ready.” Juliana nudged Jelly Bean into a slightly faster gait. Juliana tried to post, rising and lowering in the saddle from her knees as she would if riding English. “No posting. Sit.”
She did and probably rattled a brain cell or two as she—and her perfectly shaped breasts—bounced along.
Rex ground his molars. He’d been attracted to a lot of women, but not this way. Had to be because he knew this relationship—like the ones in his past—would go nowhere. Falling back into old, bad habits was not part of his plan. “Scoot.”
“Wh-at do you m-ean sc-oot?” The jarring broke her words into fragments. The mare snorted her displeasure.
“Rock your hips from the waist down.” She looked at him as if he’d asked her to fly. In frustration he said, “Match your moves to the horse’s. Like you’re with your lover.”
Her lips parted and her cheeks turned the color of a ripe peach. She jerked her face forward to stare straight between Jelly Bean’s ears, but within seconds she had the correct motion. “Sorry. It’s been a while, but I think I have it now.”
Been a while? Riding a horse or with a lover? None of your business, bud. But the image of Juliana as his lover, straddling his thighs and arching to take his deep thrusts flashed in his mind. Heat oozed from his pores and his lungs stalled.
“Yeah. You got it,” he croaked.
Keeping his distance from the bean counter was critical. She knew who he was, knew about his past. Worse, he feared she had the power to bring the self-centered SOB he used to be out of hiding. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

When the man turned off the charm, he really turned it off. Juliana sighed. Rex hadn’t given her a single sign of encouragement. And darn it, she didn’t know how to flirt without looking like a bimbo with something in her eyes.
She reluctantly climbed from the mare’s back. Was she so unattractive, so lacking in basic feminine charms that even a man who’d reportedly had women in every town his tour bus had rolled through wasn’t interested? Ouch.
She had to find a way to get her plan back on track. In accounting, that meant understanding the parameters of the investigation, and the only way to achieve understanding was by asking questions, beginning with the nonthreatening ones and easing into the intrusive ones. She likened the practice to putting a jigsaw puzzle together, borders first.
“I don’t suppose you’d consider selling Jelly Bean?” Not that she had much time to ride anymore, but this evening with a light breeze stirring her hair and the setting sun on her skin reminded her how much she missed having a horse in her life.
“She’s not mine to sell. I bought the mare for Becky and Liza.”
“And Becky and Liza are…?”
“My nieces.”
“You bought them a horse? Did you also buy this property so they’d have somewhere to ride?”
He shook his head and his rope of shiny hair swished between his shoulder blades. The urge to tug the leather tie loose and see if the strands felt as thick and luxurious as they looked was totally out of character for her, but her neatly clipped-above-the-collar world hadn’t allowed her to experience a man with longer hair without the width of a desk and the professional wall of her position at the bank between them. The men she’d dated in the past had all been the preppy, Ivy League type. Like Wally. Clean-cut. No rough edges.
Rex had rough edges aplenty.
“Farm’s not mine. I rent the barn and a few acres from the owner. Her husband died last year. She leases the stable and the surrounding land to pay the mortgage.”
“What made you choose to locate your business in Wilmington? We’re not exactly horse country.”
He flashed an irritated glance in her direction. Oops, had she sounded too much like a bank investigator? For a moment she thought he’d refuse to answer. “My brother-in-law is with Camp Lejeune’s 4th Marine Expeditionary Brigade antiterrorism unit. I wanted to be nearby to help my sister with the girls when he’s deployed. He’s in Baghdad now.”
Another chink in his bad-boy shell. What other discrepancies would she find if she looked past his rebel veneer? And did she really want to know? Her dislike of unanswered questions outweighed the need to keep her emotional distance. “You grew up on a ranch in tornado alley?”
“Yes,” he barked in a mind-your-own-business voice and then took the reins from her and led the mare into the shade of the small four-stall barn.
Juliana’s gaze immediately drifted to his firm behind in faded denim. When she realized what she was doing, she jerked her eyes back to the breadth of his shoulders. In the past, she’d been more concerned with a man’s character instead of his looks, but she had to admit Rex had great packaging.
The smell of oats, hay and fresh shavings, and the hum of insects brought back memories. Until she’d turned seventeen, she’d spent almost as much time with her horse as her books, but when her old gelding had died of colic, she hadn’t had the heart to replace him.
“Did you miss the ranch when you were touring?”
For several moments, Rex ignored her question while he exchanged the bridle for a halter and cross-tied the mare in the stall. He shoved his hand into the caddy carrying the brushes and stabbed a soft bristled-body brush in her direction. “Yes. Groom her.”
Juliana couldn’t imagine leaving Wilmington or Alden’s behind. For as far back as she could remember, she’d wanted to work in Alden’s headquarters. The building’s two-story foyer, with its marble pillars and the wrought-iron railings on the second-floor balcony, had been her own personal castle. She’d loved visiting after hours with her father, listening to the echo of their footsteps across the marble floor and the overwhelming silence of the place after the employees and customers had left for the day.
Because she’d wanted to stay near home and friends, she’d chosen to attend the local state university—much to her mother’s dismay—rather than go to an Ivy League school out of state like so many of her classmates. The University of North Carolina at Wilmington had been her father’s alma mater, and for once he’d spoken out against her mother’s decrees and supported Juliana’s decision to go to school locally and serve an internship at Alden’s.
“Did you ever think of moving back?”
His gaze met hers over the horse’s withers. The grooves beside his mouth deepened, drawing her attention to the dark evening beard shadowing his square jaw and upper lip. “You bought riding lessons not my life story.”
Touchy, touchy. But she dealt with hostile people all the time. Digging into someone’s accounts and revealing discrepancies didn’t bring out the best in anyone. She’d learned to hold her ground and keep asking the questions until she had the information she needed. What exactly was she looking for here? She didn’t know, but she’d keep digging until she found it.
“No, Rex, I didn’t buy your biography, but if we’re going to spend approximately sixteen hours together over the next four weeks, then we have to have something to discuss besides the weather. The story of my life would put us both to sleep, and since I imagine napping is frowned upon when riding or driving, I thought we’d try yours. You’re welcome to volunteer other topics if you choose.”
Scowling, he removed the mare’s saddle and saddle pad, and deposited both on the top of the stall’s wooden half door, and then braced his hands on either side of it. His shoulders, clad in another Renegade T-shirt, looked as stiff and broad as the beams supporting the barn roof.
“Yes, I missed the ranch. And I wish I’d gone back. But, I didn’t. By the time I wised up, my sister had married and moved away and my parents were dead.” He delivered the information in a matter-of-fact tone. His warning not to offer pity or sympathy came across loud and clear, but the ill-concealed pain in his voice brought a lump to Juliana’s throat.
She ducked under the cross-tie, hesitated and then laid her hand on the rigid muscles of his back. “I’m sorry.”
He flinched and stepped out of reach, then ducked to pick up the grooming caddy. Heat zinged through her from the brief contact, crackling and popping along her nerve endings in an unsettling manner. She lowered her arm and closed her prickling fingers into a fist. Before she could separate and label the avalanche of sensations, he straightened and turned. The emptiness in his eyes made her chest ache.
“Don’t be. I got what I deserved. Groom the mare. I’ll put the tack away and get her oats. We have to meet the reporter at Renegade in thirty minutes.” He shoved the grooming box in her direction, snatched up the saddle and bridle as if they weighed nothing, and left.
Juliana stared after him. If Rex thought snarling like a wounded beast would put her off, then he’d miscalculated. The glimmer of softness he tried so hard to conceal had piqued her curiosity, and once Juliana had a puzzle to solve, she never gave up until she had every piece in place.

Three
“So tell me, Ms. Alden, why would the heiress to a banking empire need to buy a date?” Octavia Jenkins, the reporter, asked.
Heiress. Rex’s chair wobbled precariously. He nearly fell over backward. Fighting for balance, he rocked forward. The front legs of the chair hit the floor with a thud. Up until now, he’d been completely relaxed. His half of the interview had gone well. He’d plugged the bar, served the reporter a selection of tasty appetizers and avoided discussing his aborted career.
“Your family owns the bank?” Rex asked. His first impression after the auction had been that Juliana had more money than sense, but he hadn’t expected it to be that much money. Holy spit.
Juliana shifted in her seat and glanced around the restaurant as if checking to see who’d overheard his question. “I told you I worked for Alden Bank and Trust.”
“You never told me your family owned it.” And owned him, or at least the note on his business. It would be her family’s minions who would padlock Renegade’s doors if Rex couldn’t pay off the note. And he’d lose everything—his apartment and his business—since he’d invested all he had into Renegade. “You never told me your last name.”
“You never asked.”
He hadn’t asked because he hadn’t wanted to get involved beyond the lessons. So much for detachment.
The reporter looked up from her furious note-taking with a hungry glint in her eyes and a flush on her cocoa-colored skin. Rex had seen that look often enough in the past to know it meant trouble. “Were you trying to keep your family connections a secret?”
Juliana hesitated. “What would be the point? Every eligible male in the southeast knows who my family is.”
And that, Rex deduced from Juliana’s flat tone, was an issue. Had the banker’s daughter experienced the degradation of being dated for what she represented rather than who she was as a person? He tamped down the empathy budding in his chest because he didn’t want to have anything in common with Juliana. But she’d put a chink in the wall he’d worked so hard to build between them.
“Which leads us back to my original question, Ms. Alden. You should have men standing in line to wine and dine you. Why buy one?”
Juliana looked every inch the poised southern belle as she lifted her chin and smiled—a smile that Rex noted didn’t reach her eyes—at the reporter. “My mother is the auction organizer. I wanted to support her efforts.”
Bull. Rex didn’t know how he knew it, but something in her voice and in her beauty-queen bearing told him that wasn’t the real reason Juliana Alden, banking heiress, for crying out loud, had bought his package. His auction package—he clarified when a neglected part of his anatomy twitched to attention.
“And why did you choose Rex?”
Yeah, why him? He silently seconded Octavia’s question. Lacing his fingers on the tabletop, he awaited Juliana’s response.
“He’s new in town and I’ve never ridden a motorcycle.” More bull. He’d bet his Harley on it.
“You’re playing welcoming committee?” He didn’t bother to sugarcoat his disbelief.
“Is there something wrong with being neighborly?” She eyed him haughtily, but the tension in her features told its own tale. What was she hiding? Curiosity coiled in his gut.
Octavia persisted. “This had nothing to do with your recent thirtieth birthday, coming into your trust fund and your friends Andrea Montgomery and Holly Prescott also buying bachelors?”
Juliana paled and her eyes widened slightly. She inhaled a long breath and then slowly released it. Rex knew because the slow rise and fall of her breasts distracted him. He cursed the arousal strumming through his system, blinked and shifted his gaze back to her face.
“Only because each year Andrea, Holly and I do something to celebrate our birthdays. And yes, this year we each came into our trust funds, but since we all have well-paying careers, we don’t really need the money. We decided to donate a portion of the money to a charitable cause, and the auction to support the disabled children’s camp seemed as admirable a choice as any. Have you heard about the boat Dean Yachts has offered to design, build and donate to the cause?”
Octavia Jenkins waved the diversion aside. “I’ll do a feature on that later. I want to talk about you.” Leaning forward, she grinned mischievously and tilted her head conspiratorially toward Juliana. “You’re a banker and he’s a biker. You can’t get much more different than that. Taking a walk on the wild side never entered into your plans?”
Color rushed to Juliana’s cheeks. She darted a panicked glance in Rex’s direction, and then ducked her head and fussed with the silverware beside her plate. “No. That wasn’t it at all.”
Well, I’ll be damned. If her guilty expression hadn’t clued him in, then her rushed, breathless answer was a dead giveaway. The beautiful bean counter was lying through her perfect white teeth. And for some crazy reason, the prospect of Juliana getting wild with him turned him on like nobody’s business.
Forget it, farm boy. Too risky.
“If you say so.” Octavia closed her notebook and stood. “Well, that’s all the questions I have tonight. I’ll see you next week.”
Rex rose. His mother had managed to drill some manners into his thick skull. He sat back down after the reporter had left and studied Juliana until she squirmed in her seat. She just didn’t seem the type to rebel. And wasn’t thirty a little old to get started on rebellion?
She bolted to her feet. “I should go, too.”
Determined to get the truth out of her one way or another, Rex followed her outside, keeping pace beside her so he wouldn’t be distracted by the sweet curve of her rear. The moon had yet to rise, but he could see well enough in the streetlights to know he was beginning to like the fit of her riding britches a little too much.
“Why did you buy my package?” he asked as they neared her car.
She turned on the cobblestone sidewalk. “I told you.”
“You’re off the record now. No reporter in sight. Let’s have the truth, Juliana. Why me?”
Her face flushed with more than indignation. She shifted uneasily. “I beg your pardon? Are you calling me a liar?”
“Admit it. You fed that reporter a load of manure.”
If she stood any straighter, her spine would snap. “Mr. Tanner—”
“Rex,” he corrected and moved closer. Without the killer heels, the top of her head barely reached his chin.
She retreated, bumping into the lamppost behind her. Milky light streamed over her, painting ribbons of silver in her dark hair. A soft breeze ruffled the strands around her face. She tipped her head back and her lips parted on a shaky breath, and her pink tongue slipped out to wet them.
“Rex, then. Why would you suspect I had an ulterior motive for bidding on you?” Her damp lips and breathless tone hit him like the business end of a cattle prod, sending a jolt of electricity through him.
“You turned ten shades of red when the reporter asked if you wanted to take a walk on the wild side. Looked guilty as hell to me.”
Her lashes fluttered and her gaze fell. “I did not.”
“Did too.” He’d learned from experience that the only way to deal with a problem was to confront it. Running didn’t work. Ignoring it wouldn’t either. He propped one arm on the post above her head and leaned in until only inches separated their faces. “Wanting to see if Nashville’s bad boy can live up to his hell-raising reputation?”
“Of course not,” she said too quickly. But her gaze shifted to his mouth and her breath puffed against his chin in shallow bursts. The tight points of her breasts pushed at her blouse.
She wanted him, and damned if the feeling wasn’t mutual. He swallowed the sudden flood of moisture in his mouth and cursed the unwelcome response drumrolling through his veins. Kissing the bank owner’s daughter would be a big mistake, but part of him wanted to forget common sense, taste her red lips and feel her slender length against him.
Go for it, his awakening libido urged. Then maybe the simmering sexual awareness between them would die a natural death and they could get on with the lessons. She wasn’t his type and he sure wasn’t hers.
He cupped her jaw with his right hand. The warm velvety texture of her skin surprised him. Tempted him. His fingertips teased her earlobe, her nape, and then closed around the cool satin of her hair. He tugged, tilting back her head and lifting her lips closer to his.
“Is this what you want, Juliana?” He cupped her jodhpur-covered bottom, pulling her closer, and lowered his head. In his hypersensitive state, her swiftly indrawn breath sounded as loud as a jet engine. Her fingers spread over his belly and dug into his waist, starting a fire he wasn’t sure he could put out. But she didn’t push him away. Her lashes drifted down and his lids grew heavy in response. His mouth hovered above hers, close enough that he could taste her sweet breath, and then sanity slapped him upside the head.
What in the hell are you doing, Tanner?
He hesitated, examining her flushed face, parted lips and the dark fan of her long lashes against her cheeks. Damn. The reporter had nailed Juliana’s motive. The banking heiress was using him. And if he gave in to the urge to kiss her—hell, the urge to take her right here against the lamppost—he’d be using her, too.
Been there. Done that. Not going back.
He didn’t want to be that selfish bastard again, and risking any kind of involvement with a woman whose family could pull the rug out from under his business could be career suicide. Because when the relationship ended—and it would end—there’d be hell to pay.
Swallowing a sobering lungful of air, he battled the need twisting through him like a tornado and shoved himself away. A sexy protest emerged from Juliana’s mouth, but he ignored it.
“If a walk on the wild side is what you’re after, Ms. Alden, find another sucker.” Turning on his heel, he left temptation—and certain disaster—behind.

Thursday evening arrived long before Juliana could get a handle on her reaction to the near-miss kiss and the sting of Rex’s rejection. But she wouldn’t let a little discomfiture derail her agenda.
“Plan B. If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed,” she muttered as she turned her car into the stable’s driveway.
Over the past two and a half days, she’d launched a full-scale fact-finding mission. By her calculations, she was as prepared for today’s lesson as she possibly could be. She’d memorized the magazines recommended by her twenty- and thirty-something coworkers, bought clothing deemed appropriate by said magazines for casual dates with a hot guy and learned everything between the covers of the Department of Motor Vehicles booklet Rex had given her. To top it off, on her lunch hour yesterday she’d visited the local motorcycle dealership. The salesman had fitted her with the proper safety gear to the tune of several hundred dollars, and she’d spent a good part of last night curled up with a book—the Harley owner’s manual.
She spotted Rex standing beside his motorcycle. The bees in her stomach buzzed into flight. Once again, he wore jeans and a Renegade T-shirt. His closed countenance brought heat to her cheeks. He hadn’t forgotten their last encounter or her panting eagerness. Neither had she.
If he could disturb her that much without actually kissing her, then what kind of havoc could he wreak if—when—their lips connected? She trembled in her new biker boots at the possibility of exploring further.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/emilie-rose/paying-the-playboy-s-price/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.