The Millionaire's Revenge Read online

  She grabbed the bra from his fingertips. “I was showing the ladies my new favorite bra during the party and then well…” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

  The bra took on a life of its own in his mind. His imagination switched into gear and he could vividly picture her putting it on as she stood before the mirror.

  “It’s pretty soft so I can…” Lame. Lame. Lame. But he couldn’t seem to think of a damn thing to say despite his resolve to get her to talk. He’d lost his witty repartee somewhere between downstairs and her bedroom. “Yeah, I’ll go back to my Cinderella duties cleaning downstairs. I gotta say you ladies know how to have fun.” He went toward the door, grateful she hadn’t come out ten seconds earlier. “Which reminds me, what in the hell were you doing with those fiesta selection of condoms?” He shook his head. It was a visual he didn’t want to have right now. “Never mind. I’m sure my imagination is much better.”

  She smiled. “It was a silly game involving condoms and a banana. A throwback from our health teacher’s lecture during sex ed.”

  He cleared his throat. “Sounds fascinating. Sorry I missed that visual.”

  “Believe me, it was more comical than sexy.”

  “I doubt that. At least to my way of thinking.” He didn’t want to make a quick escape, but any further talk about condoms was going to make his dick explode.

  “I’m not sure which of your magic cures worked, but I’m feeling much better now. How about after I get dressed, I’ll treat you to lunch and maybe do a little shopping.”

  “Excellent. The Giants are playing the Packers and I’d love to catch part of that, too.” Damn, he hated shopping, but if it could get him closer to putting the proverbial nail in the coffin, he’d put up with just about anything.

  Chapter Nine

  Grace figured the only safe place to be with Luke would be surrounded by a crowd. Besides, she couldn’t get out of her mind the expression on his face when she walked out of the shower.

  Predatory.

  There was no other word to describe it. The look felt like a heat-seeking missile had been launched straight at her. At any moment, she half expected her body to self-combust from the sizzle factor.

  But why did she have to add shopping to her list of tests? She hated shopping.

  Of course, it seemed like a better idea than dropping the towel to see what might happen.

  Part of her worried he might have a change of heart about taking it slow after his gaze had nearly lit the towel on fire.

  Another part of her was even more worried what might happen if they finally sealed the deal, and it turned out like her other failed sexual relationships. Something had always been missing—and it was more than sexual fulfillment. Was it intimacy, fun, feeling connected, or an intangible she couldn’t yet pinpoint?

  A third part of her said what the hell. Maybe she needed to start thinking more like a risk taker. Or maybe she needed to adopt the philosophy she’d been espousing—that it was all about her.

  Test ’em, screw ’em, and dump ’em.

  OMG, she was confusing herself with this nonsense. She needed to stop thinking and go with the flow. Being with Luke felt different in a way she couldn’t quite put into words. He was nothing like the boring guys from her past.

  Which led her, again, to thinking he was TGTBT.

  After dressing in a pair of jeans and a sweater, she went downstairs and helped him with the remainder of the tidying up before catching a cab to Fifth Avenue. There was a bite to the November air, and holiday shoppers were out in droves. Santas rang their bells outside storefronts. Vendors crowded the sidewalks selling everything imaginable from scarves to roasted chestnuts. Smells varied from intoxicating perfumes, to noxious air wafting from the subway grates, and everything in between. Laden with extra boxes and bags, shoppers jostled through the crowds. Holiday season was in full bloom in Manhattan.

  “Lunch or shopping first?” Luke asked, bringing her back out of her crazy spiral of what to do next in this wicked game of tests she’d concocted. Maybe she needed to push him to the limits of his male sensibilities and see if he broke. No man had ever put her interests ahead of his. Sooner or later his true self would be revealed.

  Despite the fact that her stomach growled, and she wanted to watch the football game as well, she opted for shopping, hoping to break his perfect facade. The last thing she wanted to do was fall for an illusion covering up another opportunist male.

  “Let’s do a little shopping first.”

  He looked stricken as he eyed the sports bar broadcasting the game. But quickly refocused and even managed a smile. “Where to?” His voice sounded upbeat, but his smile wavered in the corners—a little chink in his armor of perfectness. Maybe she was breaking him after all.

  She shouldn’t feel so gleeful, but she did. “Here.” She pointed to the first boutique they came across without even looking at the name.

  …

  “We’re going here?” Luke’s voice cracked as they headed for a lingerie store that, from the outside, looked like Victoria’s Secret on steroids. Oh hell… He wanted to at least catch the second half of the game. Keeping up with the score on his phone while she was in the dressing room didn’t cut it, especially when the Giants were only ahead by three points.

  “I want to pick up some new things.” Unless he read her wrong, she seemed a little uncomfortable, but she still grasped his bicep and led him inside.

  Or maybe she got off on keeping him in an aroused state. Then again, she didn’t know he had no intention of sealing the deal. Despite how far they’d already gone, there were some lines he’d never cross. Body shots and chick flicks were off the table.

  “What do you think? Lace or silk?” She held out a bra for him to touch. When he didn’t hold out his hand, she ran the fabric across his cheek so that he was forced to grasp it in his fingers.

  What had gotten into her? When he thought back to the night they’d met, and he’d accidently spotted that list of date ideas on her phone, all the questions she’d asked fell right in line. It must be another one of those insane tests she’d decided would validate something to her. He wasn’t quite sure what yet, except to prove he wasn’t going to be an asshole like the other men she’d dated.

  “Thong or high-leg bikini?” When he, no doubt, looked like a damned idiot, she kept talking, probably hoping at some point he’d respond.

  He cleared his throat and tried not to picture her in either of the items she tantalized him with. “Whatever you’re comfortable in?”

  He had no idea when he set out for revenge he’d be in for a bout of self-torture along the way. Or maybe hard-on delirium had set in.

  She rushed into the dressing room, leaving him alone, the only man in the store, with the women inside giving him looks that varied somewhere between sleazeball and weirdo—either that or his imagination had run amok. Surrounded by garter belts and thigh-high stockings, bra inserts, and other crap he’d thought only existed in men’s magazines, he felt more than a little out of his element. He didn’t know which way to look or not look.

  Get the hell out of here.

  Except, in his effort to fade into the woodwork, he’d run into a display filled with fur-lined handcuffs, edible panties, personal massagers, and lickable body oils.

  What the hell kind of place had she taken him to? It seemed like a cross between Fredrick’s of Hollywood and Spencer’s, with Victoria’s Secret thrown into the mix. He couldn’t think of a male equivalent because clearly men weren’t obsessed with their underwear and how best to display their junk.

  He hadn’t known women tried on bras and lacey lingerie before they bought them. But this was information he could have lived his life not knowing. He pressed his fingers against his eyeballs as he tried to obliterate pictures of Grace floating around inside his head. It didn’t work. His imagination worked overtime as he envisioned her trying on the stack of silk and lace she’d brought into the room and threw in the fur handcuffs…because…tha
t seemed pretty damn sexy.

  He had a first-class ticket on the train to Armageddon if he kept thinking with his little head. Especially since the perverse part of his fantasy wished she’d do a little show-and-tell.

  Damn, he needed to get his mind off what she was doing behind that door. Or get laid by anyone but her. With his luck, she’d find out his true motives and this whole set up would be toast.

  He spotted a pink, stuffed, round, sitting thing outside the dressing room and sat his butt down and stretched out his legs. Good. Now he could distract himself by streaming the game live. Being the only man in the place surrounded by lingerie and shit he’d never seen in his life would not bother him. Besides, hunger was slowly overtaking him, obliterating anything else along the way.

  That and it looked like Odell Beckham had just caught his third pass as the Giants surged downfield. With five minutes left in the game, the Giants had fallen behind but were about to score.

  “Luke.” She called his name, but he ignored her. Bad enough that he had to watch the game on a five-inch screen instead of the seventy-inch one he had at home, but he needed to see if Odell could make this final—

  “Luke, are you there?” She peeked her head out the door wearing a bra and her jeans.

  His eyeballs shifted to Odell, then to her, then to Odell as the play seemed to go in slow motion before he focused back on her. Hot. Amazing. Sexy. Her. The really sick part of his brain wanted her to model the fur-lined thong that went with the fur-lined handcuffs.

  “Do you think a neon bra says skank?”

  “Skank?” He gulped as she slid outside the changing room. “Are you planning on wearing it outside your clothes?” Her breasts spilled over the top of the low cut of her bra. He paid a whole lot more attention than he should have. But he’d learned over the last couple of days there was no use talking to his little head. It had a mind of its own, and all it wanted was to be balls-deep inside Grace.

  “I’d like to wear it under some blouses once the weather gets nice.” She gave him a coy smile.

  She played hardball—no pun intended. But considering her pedigree, why should he be surprised?

  As she peered into the mirror, she bent down. He could have sworn one of her nipples escaped the confines, since the cups were cut so low they might as well not be there. Or maybe he’d started his own playbook of fantasies.

  “Did you know they have fur handcuffs and fur-lined thongs? What the hell kind of place is this?”

  “They added some things after Fifty Shades…” Her laughter permeating the room, she ducked back inside the dressing room.

  Images of Grace in her brass bed flitted through his mind. Of course, she’d have on those fur-lined handcuffs and maybe the matching thong as well. He couldn’t decide if she should be with or without a bra.

  Damn it to hell, he was thinking way too much about her amazing body, instead of focusing on the end result. He was already in too deep. This pseudo-relationship had to meet an untimely demise. The sooner the better.

  That only meant one thing—he absolutely had to push harder.

  Chapter Ten

  Impossible. He couldn’t be so accommodating after all she’d thrown at him.

  Grace had tested Luke—and hard—and he’d passed. Every. Time. He hadn’t backed down. Hadn’t run away. Even when she hadn’t bought a thing except a neon-green bra, strictly because of the way he’d looked at her when she tried in on.

  Maybe she needed to rethink her strategy. No guy was that nice.

  Hunger broke through stubbornness as she practically salivated when they passed the hot dog vendor on the street.

  “You hungry yet?” he asked.

  “I might pass out any minute. What—” The words stalled in her throat as she saw her father walking toward them. Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap.

  Pretending she didn’t see him might work. But based on the way he bore down on them, he’d spotted her. Even from a half block away, she recognized the famous Whitaker evil-eye appraisal directed at Luke. Getting him mixed up with her father was not part of her test. She didn’t want Cyrus to know about Luke and vice versa.

  She yanked Luke toward the closest shoe store, ready and willing to buy out the place if it would shelter her from her father’s inquisition.

  Just dig her a hole and let her fall inside. That might be the only way out of this mess.

  “If he asks, we’ve already eaten,” she murmured.

  “What are you—” His voice dropped off as Cyrus approached. She couldn’t tell if her father’s menacing demeanor was the culprit or Luke knew him.

  Things were about to get ugly. And there she was in a shoe store the size of a walk-in closet with dear old Dad bearing down on them.

  …

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Cyrus Whitaker in all his pompous glory with his girl toy of the week at his side. The woman looked to be around Grace’s age, putting him at thirty-plus years the woman’s senior. What a cliché.

  Best course of action—play dumb and don’t reveal your hand.

  The litany repeated through his head, more than aware of the man’s laser-like attention to detail, along with a memory like a steel trap. If he made the connection with Luke to LRM, he’d be toast, and everything he’d gone through in the last several weeks would have been a waste.

  “Grace.” Her father called her name, bellowing in the small store, then said her name a second time, like the first time wasn’t loud enough to cause a ripple of stares inside the place. Then he glowered at Luke, as if boring a hole through him would make things magically go his way.

  “Luke, this is my dad, Cyrus Whitaker. And, Dad, this is Luke.” Her gaze jumped from him to Cyrus and back again, like she expected a fight to break out any minute—or maybe she’d picked up on the sudden excess testosterone in the vicinity.

  Luke held out his hand and stared at Cyrus. Being this close to the man himself was uncomfortable, but he refused to let it show. “Good to meet you, sir.”

  “Don’t I know you?” He did his best to intimidate as he squeezed Luke’s hand. Not aiming to impress a potential girlfriend’s father, he squeezed back. “You look familiar.”

  Grace interrupted. “I doubt it, Dad. Luke’s an accountant, and you hate accountants.”

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded while he kept a watchful eye on Luke. Since what he knew about Cyrus tended to paint him as paranoid, the scrutinization and the question didn’t surprise Luke.

  “I needed to pick up a few things.” Grace fidgeted like she’d chugged one of those high-potency energy drinks. Without realizing what he’d done until it happened, Luke slid his arm across her shoulders. For some reason, the vibe between her and her father brought out a protective instinct in him. This was not the relationship he’d envisioned—there weren’t any smiles or hugs between the pair. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear they were adversaries rather than father/daughter.

  “I thought you didn’t like to shop.” His father’s eyebrow crept up while Grace blushed, and Luke bristled at the way he gave his daughter the third degree. Sure, she was his employee, but she was a grown, responsible woman.

  “I needed some”—she flapped her hands—“the wedding next weekend.”

  “That’s right. The bachelorette party was last night, wasn’t it?” This time, he focused on his daughter rather than Luke. “Surprised you’re up and moving so early. I heard from Carla’s mother, you ladies partied hard last night.”

  “You can party hard when you’re young.” She stared at his father’s much younger girlfriend, who he’d yet to introduce. Maybe the old man doesn’t remember her name.

  Cyrus cleared his throat. “We were just going for a late lunch. Why don’t you two join Elise and me for a bite? I’d love to hear more about the man who’s dating my daughter, especially since she neglected to tell me anything about you.”

  Damn, he hated this guy. Everything about him made Luke’s skin crawl.

  She patte
d her stomach. “We just ate. Worked up an appetite with all that shopping. Maybe some other time. Nice meeting you, Elise.” Without waiting for her father to respond, she yanked Luke away and out the door. “That was a close one.”

  How did what just happened fit into the partners-in-crime scenario he’d built in his head? The scumbag didn’t treat her like an equal—he talked down to her like he had no respect for her.

  Was it possible she knew nothing about what the man did to acquire his wealth? He’d have to do a hell of a lot more digging before he’d be convinced of her innocence. And he wanted her to be innocent. Of course, that meant spending more time with her.

  “Now back to our original dilemma. Where we going for lunch?” he asked.

  “Don’t judge, but I’ve a serious craving for a Gray’s hot dog and a papaya drink. Are you with me or against me on that?”

  “I’m in. Walk or cab?”

  “It’s such a beautiful day, let’s walk. Besides, I have an ulterior motive for heading to that side of town.”

  “Sounds intriguing.”

  “It’s something I’m especially proud of.”

  They walked briskly through the streets in comfortable silence until they made it to Gray’s. He placed their order and met her at the table she’d snagged under a beautiful tree that had yet to lose all its leaves. Enough of the sun peaked through to warm the area and make it a perfect place to eat.

  She took a sip of her papaya drink. “Umm… I love this stuff. And I think it might counteract the unhealthiness of the hot dog.”

  He laughed. “I’m not sure about that, but nothing like a questionable food object to satisfy the rebel in you.” When he smiled at her, it felt genuine. Despite the near disaster with Cyrus, it was hard not to feel relaxed on a day like today. “I love New York. I don’t know about you, but I can’t imagine living anywhere else. I’m not sure I could ever move to Iowa like my brother did.” After he said it, he couldn’t think of why he’d divulged more personal information. Anything he said to her should be on an as-needed basis, and he’d already broken that rule a couple of times.