The Millionaires' Club: Ryan, Alex and Darin: Breathless for the Bachelor. KRISTI GOLD
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THE MILLIONAIRES’ CLUB: RYAN, ALEX & DARIN
Breathless for the Bachelor
CINDY GERARD
Pretending with the Playboy
CATHLEEN GALITZ
Fit for a Sheikh
KRISTI GOLD
Breathless for the Bachelor
CINDY GERARD
“WHAT’S HAPPENING IN ROYAL?”
NEWS FLASH – These days Royal is losing eligible bachelors faster than you can say Jiminy Cricket! First David Sorrenson fell head over heels for the nanny he hired, then Clint Andover lip-locked with Nurse Roberts and now Travis Whelan settled down to be a family man with Natalie Perez and their infant daughter! Locals are taking bets as to who might be the next gent to take the plunge…
Could it be Dr Nathan Beldon? As the new guy in town, Beldon is something of a mystery, but he’s certainly handsome enough! And even though he hasn’t been all that friendly with the locals, rumour has it that Trav’s sister Carrie was spotted on a date with the secretive doctor. Has Carrie set her sights on Dr Beldon? If so, the good doctor is going to find himself in hot water when her overprotective brother finds out…
The real question is why is Carrie making eyes at Nathan Beldon when she’s got a gorgeous hunk like Ry Evans watching her every move? It’s a mystery to this reporter – and to half the town! And the way Ry has been glaring at Beldon… Is that merely friendly concern for Carrie? Or could it be something more like jealousy?
CINDY GERARD
Since her first release in 1991 hit the national No.1 slot on the bestseller list, Cindy Gerard has repeatedly made appearances on several bestseller lists, including USA TODAY. With numerous industry awards to her credit – among them the Romance Writers of America’s RITA® Award and the National Reader’s Choice Award – this former Golden Heart Finalist and repeat Romantic Times nominee is the real deal.
Cindy and her husband, Tom, live in the Midwest on a mini-farm with quarter horses, cats and two very spoiled dogs. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading, travelling and spending time at their cabin in northern Minnesota unwinding with family and friends. Cindy loves to hear from her readers and invites you to visit her website at www.cindygerard.com.
This book is dedicated to the wonderful women
who made yet another The Millionaires’ Club
series come alive in vivid and sparkling colour.
Your talent and generosity are treasured gifts.
Stephanie Maurer – editor extraordinaire.
Sara Orwig, Laura Wright, Kathie DeNosky,
Cathleen Galitz and Kristi Gold –
authors extraordinaire.
My hat is off to all of you.
One
“If you call me cute one more time, I swear I’m going to break every bone in your foot.”
Ryan Evans lifted a considering brow and gauged the scowl on Carrie Whelan’s face across the booth where they sat in the Royal Diner. She meant business. She wasn’t just scowling; she was close to breathing fire as hot as the straight, shining length of silky red hair brushing small shoulders stiffened in a pique of anger.
Carrie was way too much fun to tease. Always had been. And hell, at fourteen, she had been cute. At twenty-four, however, it was obvious the idea that he—or any man—would regard her that way, rankled.
Sheer orneriness prompted him to push another hot button. But safety first. He cleared his throat, pulled himself up straighter and very deliberately drew his long legs back under the faded red plastic booth seat so the simmering Ms. Whelan couldn’t stomp the three-inch stiletto heel of her designer boots into his instep.
“That time of the month again, is it, sweetie?” he asked with the sage and patronizing compassion of a wise and understanding man.
When she growled, he blinked, all innocence and mystified male guile. “What? What’d I say?”
She tilted her head to the side and studied him as if he were a wad of gum she’d like to scrape off the bottom of her boot. “You know, for a man of such reputed and vast experience with women, you know exactly the wrong things to say to impress a lady.”
He couldn’t help it. He gave it up and grinned. “Oh, so you’re a lady now, are you?”
It wasn’t all that long ago that little Carrie Whelan—cute little Carrie Whelan, his best friend, Travis Whelan’s, kid sister—had declared to anyone within earshot that she was gonna be a cowboy and she’d have to be dead before anyone would catch her in anything but denim and her cowboy hat and boots.
Well, he could testify for a fact that she was still alive—very much alive—even though she’d traded denim for silk and her worn Ropers for butter-soft Italian ankle boots a few years ago. She also wore a different kind of hat these days—several different kinds, actually. Thanks to the trust fund Trav had set up for her, she didn’t have to work, but the darling of Royal, Texas, society was always involved in something. If she wasn’t volunteering at the Royalty Hospital burn unit or at the library, she devoted many hours a week at a tax-supported day-care center—and all that was in between organizing fund-raisers and squeezing moldy money from kindhearted old and not-so-old men with deep pockets, who were sympathetic to her causes and suckers for her smile.
And yes. She was definitely alive, Ry thought again before he could curb a quick, appreciative glance at the full, healthy breasts pushing against the ivory silk of her blouse.
But he wasn’t supposed to notice that. He wasn’t supposed to notice anything remotely sexy or female about Carrie.
He tugged his hat brim lower over his brow. The problem was, she was right about one thing. She wasn’t cute anymore. She was beautiful…supermodel gorgeous, in fact, with those snapping hazel eyes, her tall, willow-slim body and a mouth that made a man wonder what it would feel like pressed against his bare skin.
Not him, of course. He didn’t think of her that way. At least, he tried like hell not to.
Frowning, he schooled his gaze to her face again—to those mossy-green eyes—and forced a mandatory return back to surrogate-brother role. “What’s got your tail in a twist, Carrie-bear?”
The look she threw him could have peeled paint off the bumper of his black four-by-four Ranger. “You’re worse than my brother,” she sputtered, and tipped her coffee—muddy tan and loaded with cream and sugar—to her lips. “Neither one of you takes me seriously.”
Ry slumped back in the booth, resisting the urge to own up to exactly how seriously he did take her. How he’d seriously like to take her and how she could seriously mess up his head if he didn’t herd his thoughts back in the right direction.
“What’d Trav do now?” he asked instead.
“What does he always do? He treats me like a child.”
“He loves you,” Ry said softly, and watched some of the starch ease out of her stiff spine.
She turned those hazel eyes on him. They made him think of wispy, glittering smoke. Like a night fire, embers banked but smoldering.
“What are we doing here?” she asked abruptly and with such earnest inquiry, he sobered.
“Well, the way I remember it,” he said carefully, because he didn’t want her getting wise to the fact that at Trav’s request, Ry had been