The Millionaire's Misbehaving Mistress. Kimberly Lang
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balcony off Gwen’s room angled his, and the glow from behind her curtains meant she was still awake. He’d heard the unmistakable click of computer keys as he walked by earlier. Was she a workaholic, taking advantage of the quiet evening to answer the etiquette questions of the country’s youth? If he knocked on her door, would she join him for a drink on the balcony instead?
When he’d opened the front door, he’d heard Evie’s recitation of flatware and gone to the dining room expecting to find Miss Behavior in full form. He’d been struck speechless instead. Gwen’s sensible suit had disappeared, replaced by a simple sundress that flowed over her curves intriguingly. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, and as she’d passed him in the hallway, he’d caught a faint whiff of lavender.
The scent suited her: elegant, a bit old-fashioned and very feminine. He’d breathed deep and the residual tension of his day eased away. And while Gwen seemed to stay slightly on edge as they chatted, he’d found the wine to be an unnecessary additional relaxant.
He’d been charmed by her at dinner. When he agreed to be home for more family meals, he hadn’t expected to enjoy it so much. Evie’s presence seemed to melt some of the reserve he normally felt from Gwen, and he found her to be well-read and refreshing in her opinions.
And Evie! Gwen may have said it was too early to tell, but he could see the changes in Evie already. She did have natural charm, and under Gwen’s gentle guidance, she was learning how to use it.
The light in Gwen’s room went dark, and he’d missed his chance to offer her a nightcap.
It was probably just as well—getting involved with his sister’s tutor in any way could only cause problems. If he’d learned nothing else from his father’s late-life love affair, he certainly knew the folly of fishing in the company pond. At least the various women Marcus kept pushing at him as potential partners would never cause the same embarrassment Rachel had. They had their own wealth, their own family connections—they didn’t need his in order to climb the social ladder.
Nope, he was better off enjoying the evening alone.
Then why did he have this lingering regret he hadn’t asked her earlier?
CHAPTER THREE
THIS was definitely the way to work.
The guest room of Will’s penthouse had its own private balcony, and Gwen had taken her laptop outside. Looking over the railing from almost twenty floors up had made her feel dizzy, but as long as she stayed away from the railing, she was fine. The small table and chairs had enough room for her computer and paperwork, and she could enjoy the summer breezes while she worked.
Mrs. Gray brought her a small pot of tea and some snacks about the time Evie went downstairs for her tennis lesson, and the apartment was quiet except for the jazz floating from the CD player inside in her bedroom. She loved her little 1920’s cottage and the charm of M Street, but this she could get used to.
She posted her column to TeenSpace and answered a few e-mails. For the most part, she’d been able to either postpone clients or move them to the blocks of time she knew Evie would be with her tutors or at a lesson, but she’d sent a few to a friend and former classmate who did some deb training on the side. The obnoxious sum of money Will was paying her for this job more than covered the loss of income from those few classes.
She was just shutting down her laptop when her cell phone rang.
“You never called yesterday and I’m dying to hear everything.” Her sister sounded as eager as Evie.
“I know. I was busy getting settled in, and Evie and I worked most of the day.” The breeze on the balcony made it hard to hear Sarah, so she went inside and flopped on the sinfully wonderful bed.
“And…”
“The guest room here is nicer than that five-star hotel we stayed at in D.C. last year. The bathroom is the size of my bedroom at home and done completely in marble. The bedroom is huge, and I have my own balcony. It’s incredible.”
“Even the hired help lives the good life, huh?”
“That’s for sure.” Gwen rolled on to her back, felt the down duvet mold itself around her and stared at the hand-painted ceiling. “I swear, I feel like a princess in this room.”
“What about the princess herself?”
“Evie’s not bad at all. A little unsure of herself and the finer points of etiquette, but she’s far from the mess I expected. I’m going to bring her in Friday, if that’s still okay. I think you’ll like her.”
“Friday’s fine. E-mail me her picture and sizes. Now, quit stalling and tell me about the Most Eligible Will Harrison.”
Gwen nibbled on a fingernail as she hedged. “There’s not much to tell.”
“Gwennie!” Sisterly exasperation took over. “Details. Now. I’m holding your cat hostage, you know.”
“Okay, okay. He’s even more handsome than his pictures, and he can be quite charming when he wants to. Trust me, charm is not something the Harrison family lacks.” So it wasn’t the full truth, but Sarah wasn’t ready to hear that Gwen was living with a man who oozed sex appeal. And she wasn’t about to go into the details of what that was doing to her equilibrium. “He’s really good to Evie, too, even though they’re still figuring each other out.”
“I hear a ‘but.’”
“But he’s terse sometimes and always seems to be thinking about something else when I’m talking to him. And if that damn BlackBerry rings one more time, I’ll—”
Sarah’s sigh interrupted her rant. “Not everyone feels the way you do about phones, Gwen. He’s probably a very busy man. BlackBerrys just come with the territory.”
It was her turn to be exasperated. “You know good and well that flesh and blood people—”
“‘Always take priority over any message in any other medium.’ Yes, Gwennie, I know. That speech is getting old, honey.”
“That doesn’t make it any less true.” She knew she sounded huffy and defensive, but she also knew Sarah had been brought up better than that.
“Maybe you should work on some new etiquette rules for this century.”
“The ones we have would work just fine if folks would only follow them.” Sarah started to interrupt again, but Gwen cut her off. “He brought it to dinner.”
“Oh.” Even Sarah’s lax rules on technology use included a moratorium on their presence at the dinner table. Mother had taught them too well. “So Will Harrison needs some work in the cell phone etiquette department. Big deal. He’s handsome and charming and richer than God. You can overlook a couple of flaws.”
“Sarah, I have no business even noticing his flaws. Evie Harrison is my business, not Will.” That needs to become my new mantra.
“So? You’re there. Living in his house. You’re both adults, and you never know…”
Sarah was going to drive her insane. “Forty-eight hours ago you were telling me what a bad idea moving in here was. You’ve switched camps pretty suddenly.”
“I just wanted to make sure you’d thought this whole thing through. Now that you’re there…” She trailed off suggestively. “Anyway, you said you felt like this was the right thing to do. That it was your chance. Maybe it is in more ways than one. Couldn’t hurt to keep your options open.”
“You’re jumping way ahead. Granted, Will is absolutely yummy—”
Sarah perked up. “Yummy? Really?”
Oh, for a different choice of words. Too late now. “This is business—and the future of my business. As you said, I’ve laid a lot of groundwork the last few years. I’m not going to screw everything