Millionaire's Wedding Revenge / Stranded with the Tempting Stranger: Millionaire's Wedding Revenge. Brenda Jackson
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She hadn’t wanted an ugly confrontation four years ago, so she’d walked away without an explanation—without a goodbye. She’d been afraid that if she faced him with her knowledge of his betrayal, he’d convince her to stay.
Because she knew she was weak where he was concerned. Because she was intimately acquainted with just how charmingly persuasive he could be.
He shifted a step back suddenly, laying off some of the pressure. “Why did you leave?” he asked bluntly.
“I told you in the last conversation—”
“A phone message.”
“I wanted a clean break,” she lied again.
“After dodging my calls for days,” he accused.
“You were out of town on business.”
“Yeah, and then you were—supposedly.”
“I was never good at breaking up,” she countered, “and it was clear to me our fling was coming to an end.”
As clear as the woman whom she’d seen leaving his yacht, she added silently.
His jaw clenched. Evidently, he didn’t like her response, but he also wasn’t going to dispute her belief.
She read his silence as confirmation, and her stomach dropped sickeningly. Obviously, if she hadn’t called it quits first, Stephen would soon have been giving her his “it was good while it lasted, babe” talk.
“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he taunted finally. “A simple explanation for why you ended the affair. You could have given it to me at Anna’s wedding without an ugly scene.”
Perversely, she felt her temper rise again. “Are you suggesting that if you’d had a chance to talk to me before now, you wouldn’t be here today with a brand-new project for Elkind, Ross?” she demanded. “Because if so, I don’t believe it. I know you too well, Stephen.”
“You used to know me well, sweetheart,” he responded silkily. “About as well as any woman who’s shared my bed.”
She was just one in a crowd, Megan thought bitterly. As if she could ever forget.
Yet one more reason Stephen must never, ever, know about Jade.
She could bear working for him if she had to. She just couldn’t bear having him jeopardize what mattered most.
Stephen stared at the woman who’d walked away from him four years ago without a second glance.
He’d wanted her from the moment he’d seen her, coming out of a conference room at Garrison, Inc., right after her firm had inked a deal with his older brother, Parker, to refurbish the offices at Garrison headquarters.
She’d been laughing at something Parker had said, and the laugh, combined with everything else, had hit him like fine aged whiskey burning a path to an empty stomach.
She’d been intoxicating. A tall redhead with legs that went on forever, and a body that was all curves. A Jessica Rabbit come to life in all her bombshell glory.
He’d pictured her beneath him in bed, those long legs wrapped around him as he lost himself inside her.
And the reality had lived up to the billing—for the first time in his jaded experience with women.
Their five-month affair had been explosive. They’d spent weekends aboard his yacht, just enjoying each other, then had sneaked away in the middle of the workday for lunchtime sex in a hotel room.
Fortunately, he’d owned—and still did—the most luxurious hotel in Miami’s trendy South Beach, and he kept a private suite there for his own use.
On days when he was done meeting and greeting the high-rolling hotel guests who’d come to frolic in the sun and party in nearby nightclubs, and he didn’t feel like heading back to his four-bedroom villa and estate near South Beach, he could crash at the hotel.
This particular day, however, was supposed to be about putting a coda on unfinished business. Instead, he was irritated to discover, she still had as much an effect on him as ever.
The urge to touch her was irresistible, despite the fact that she had chosen to end their affair four years ago with a curt phone message.
He’d tried to contact her, always getting her voice mail, until he’d discovered from the receptionist at her design firm that Megan had given two weeks’ notice and skipped town to go back home to Indianapolis.
To hell with it, he’d decided. His male pride had been stung, and he’d already put it on the line enough by breaking his cardinal rule: don’t look back.
He’d never been dumped before. He was used to leaving women, not having women leave him. His breakup with Megan had been the first time he’d experienced being cast aside, and he hadn’t liked it.
“Why are you here?” Megan demanded now, her green eyes flashing.
To get some answers, and as it happens, I need to hire an interior designer. He’d figured he’d enjoy having Megan on his payroll, playing it until he got some answers, and in the meantime, keeping the pressure on—letting her see just what she’d walked away from.
Now, he shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious? I need an interior designer to update the look of the Garrison Grand. Your firm has done work on various Garrison properties in the past, including the Garrison Grand.”
“Why ask for me?” She gestured around her. “Any number of people in this office could help you.”
Because I’m going to enjoy seducing you back into my bed. “Because you’re one of the best interior designers in town, and you’re the one who’s most familiar with the Garrison account.”
He hadn’t shown up with the intention of reignit ing their affair, but now he’d seen her again, the idea appealed increasingly.
Her response as to why she’d ended their relationship had been only a little more satisfying than the one she’d given him by phone, and he wasn’t sure he bought it: their affair had been so hot, he thought his fingers would be singed.
Now that she was back in town—and back in his orbit, by his own doing—he intended to dig a little deeper.
Conrad had told him he and the other partners had lured Meghan back to the firm. They needed new blood, and she was that good.
Megan opened and closed her mouth. “But we—”
“—slept together?” he finished for her.
At her indrawn breath, he arched a brow. “You have a problem working for former lovers?”
“This is the first time I’ve had to face the situation!”
“What? Worried about maintaining your professionalism?”
“It’s not my professionalism I’m worried about,” she retorted.
He swept her a look, letting his gaze linger on her chest before coming back to meet her mutinous gaze.
He smiled slowly. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”
She raised her chin. “I’ll ask that someone else be assigned to work on the Garrison Grand.”
“Careful, sweetheart. The Garrison property is one of the most lucrative accounts your firm has going. You wouldn’t want to be the one who caused your firm to lose it.”
Her eyes widened, and color seeped into her face, masking the dusting of freckles there—freckles that he’d spent one memorable night kissing, one by one.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she gritted.
He shrugged. “Since you’re just back in the office, I’m assuming you’ve got the most time to