Exposed: Her Undercover Millionaire. Michelle Celmer
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‘So, let’s do it,’ Brandon said.
Do it? Paige sucked in a quiet breath. She hadn’t said that out loud, had she? No, of course she hadn’t. Was he some sort of mind reader?
‘E-excuse me?’
‘You said we had to fit me for a tux, didn’t you? Let’s go.’
Oh, the tux. ‘Yes, right. Of course.’
‘What did you think I meant?’
Paige refused to answer on the grounds that it would mortify her.
Dear Reader,
My husband teases me relentlessly, because while I’m working on a book, for those eight weeks or so, the characters become living, breathing people to me. I talk about them as if they are real, because to me they are. They share dinner with us, come up during our favourite television shows.
I first meet these characters when I plot the book. The relationship is very superficial at that point. I know where they’re from, what they do for a living, where they went to school—basic stuff. When I begin writing the story, gradually I learn more about them, but they don’t always make it easy.
Take Brandon for instance. He was so busy trying to hide his true identity from Paige that I had a hard time getting a read on him. I knew he was Ronald Worth’s son, and Emma’s brother. I knew he was very bitter toward his father, but I didn’t really know why. And every time I thought I had him figured out, he would do or say something to completely confuse me! In fact, he kept me and Paige guessing all the way to the end of the book. I hope you have as much fun figuring him out as we did.
Best,
Michelle
About the Author
Bestselling author MICHELLE CELMER lives in southeastern Michigan with her husband, their three children, two dogs and two cats. When she’s not writing or busy being a mom, you can find her in the garden or curled up with a romance novel. And if you twist her arm really hard you can usually persuade her into a day of power shopping.
Michelle loves to hear from readers. Visit her website, www.michellecelmer.com, or write her at PO Box 300, Clawson, MI 48017, USA.
Exposed:
Her Undercover
Millionaire
Michelle Celmer
MILLS & BOON
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To my readers
Don’t miss a single book in this series!
The Takeover
For better, for worse. For business, for pleasure.
These tycoons have vowed to have it all!
Claimed: The Pregnant Heiress by Day Leclaire
Seduced: The Unexpected Virgin by Emily McKay
Revealed: His Secret Child by Sandra Hyatt
Bought: His Temporary Fiancée by Yvonne Lindsay
Exposed: Her Undercover Millionaire by Michelle Celmer
Acquired: The CEO’s Small-Town Bride by Catherine Mann
One
The man had the bluest eyes Paige Adams had ever seen.
Not to mention killer biceps, wide shoulders and the kind of all-American rugged good looks that left women swooning. Herself included. And though she didn’t usually go for men with facial hair, the neatly trimmed mustache and goatee just seemed to work. In fact, she could swear the temperature of her office rose ten degrees the minute her assistant, Cheryl, ushered him inside.
“Paige, this Brandon Dilson,” Cheryl said. “Ana Rodriguez sent him by.”
Paige shut her laptop, smoothed the front of her Kay Unger blazer and darted a glance at her reflection in the chrome pencil holder on her desk to confirm that the chignon she wore her hair in was still neatly in place. And of course, it was. She prided herself on her appearance. As an image consultant, always looking her best was a requirement of the job.
She rose from her chair, pasted on a professional yet warm smile and stuck her hand out. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Dilson.”
He enfolded it in his much larger one, gripping firmly, possessively, and when his ocean-blue eyes locked on hers, and his sexy mouth tilted up into a dimpled smile—God, she loved dimples—she nearly forgot her own name.
His dishwater-blond hair was naturally wavy and a touch shaggy. Long enough to graze his shirt collar. The kind of hair a girl fantasized about running her fingers through. He wore faded jeans, a cobalt blue T-shirt and cowboy boots. And he looked damned good that way.
“The pleasure is all mine, ma’am.” His smile said he meant it.
When Ana, the director of Hannah’s Hope, the local literacy foundation, called to say she was sending over their star pupil for a consultation, a hunky cowboy was the last thing Paige had expected.
Behind him, Cheryl bit her lip and discreetly fanned her chubby face, and Paige knew exactly what she was thinking.
Who is this guy and where can I get one?
“Can I offer you a refreshment, Mr. Dilson?” Cheryl asked. “Coffee, tea, bottled water?”
He turned the smile her way. “No, thank you, ma’am.”
Manners, too. That was nice.
Paige gestured to the chair opposite her desk. “Please, sit down.”
He settled in, folding one long, muscular leg over the other, looking completely at ease. If his literacy issues or lack of education embarrassed or made him feel uncomfortable, he certainly didn’t let it show. The man oozed confidence.
She smoothed her skirt and sat primly on the edge of her chair.
“I think that might be the cleanest desk I’ve ever seen,” Mr. Dilson said, resting his elbows on the chair arms and threading his fingers together over his impressive chest.
“I like to keep things tidy,” she said. Almost to the point of being compulsive about it. If she had a therapist he would probably tell her it was a direct result of her chaotic adolescence. But her past was what it was, and rehashing it to a mental health professional wouldn’t change it.
“I see that,” he said, and something about the way he studied her made her want to squirm in her seat.
“I understand you’ll be honored with an outstanding achieve ment award at the Hannah’s Hope gala later this month. Congratulations.”
“Seeing