The Millionaire Meets His Match (12 page)

Having made his decision, he studiously ignored the tightening he felt in his chest.

As he greeted the mayor of a small town north of Dunsmuir Bay, he noticed the crowd begin to murmur.

“Oh,” his mother whispered. “She's stunning.”

He turned but couldn't say a word as he stared across the room. Trish wore a strapless black gown that molded to her breasts and fell in a graceful column to the floor, yet managed to show off every curve of her body. It was classic and elegant. And outrageously sexy. Her hair tumbled loosely around her shoulders and a thin row of diamonds draped her neck, bringing Adam's gaze right back to her stunning breasts. She looked like a goddess emerging from the sea.

She'd never looked more beautiful, if that was possible. It was Brandon who greeted her at the door, introducing himself to her and escorting her into the room. He snagged her a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and stayed by her side and talked.

Watching her sip champagne, Adam's insides tightened at the memory of their two days of pleasurable solitude ensconced in the hotel suite. They'd explored each other's bodies all day and throughout the night,
finally falling into an exhausted sleep as dawn broke over the mountain.

Then waking up to start all over again.

The memory of her legs wrapped around him, her body arching into him, her sobs of need, caused a physical hunger in his gut and his jaw clenched as he forced himself to ignore it.

Adam checked his watch again. He had to determine exactly how long he'd have to stay at the party schmoozing with his guests before he could take Trish back to their suite. He could barely wait to strip that incredible dress off her.

“At the risk of repeating myself, she's very lovely,” Sally said amiably, tucking her arm through his.

He looked at her squarely. “She's also a great assistant—smart, loyal, highly organized and very talented.” And gorgeous in bed. Which is exactly where he wanted her. Now.

Sally touched his arm maternally. “I'm glad you have good people working for you, sweetie.”

Adam exhaled slowly. “Me, too.”

The orchestra began to play a big band favorite and Adam watched Brandon lead Trish out onto the dance floor.

“Crap,” Adam said. Why was his brother holding her so close? He was going to cut off her breathing.

Sally chuckled. “Why don't you dance with me instead of standing here scowling? Your guests are going to think something's wrong with the plumbing.”

“Good idea,” he muttered, and led his mother onto the dance floor.

After a few minutes of gliding around, Sally smiled up at him. “You dance beautifully, Adam.”

One of his eyebrows shot up. “I'd better. I risked my life to learn the damn fox trot.”

Sally laughed. To this day, Adam couldn't believe she'd forced all three boys to attend cotillion when they were barely thirteen years old. Once word got out at school, the Duke brothers became targets and the fights began. The boys gave as good as they got, but often came home from school with black eyes and bloodied knuckles. Rather than cancel the dance lessons, Sally briskly enrolled them in marital arts and boxing classes, as well.

Chuckling, Adam recalled that she'd also forced them to learn how to cook and do their own laundry. She'd always said she was determined to raise well-rounded men who would make good husbands.

Adam was happy to be well-rounded, but that didn't mean he intended to be anyone's good husband.

“Every woman loves a man who can dance,” Sally said suggestively, her eyes glittering with humor as she glanced across the ballroom.

Adam couldn't help but follow the direction of her gaze. His stomach tensed all over again as he spotted Trish, laughing and flirting and all wrapped up in the arms of his own brother.

 

The song ended. Trish and Brandon Duke applauded politely, then walked off the floor together.

“It was nice to meet you, Brandon,” she said, and was surprised to realize she meant it. She'd been concerned when she found out that the outgoing man who'd met her at the door was Adam's brother. But as it turned out, he was a big friendly bear of a guy and a surprisingly good dancer. A former football player, he was several
inches taller and a bit stockier than his brother. A very good-looking man, though not nearly as handsome as Adam.

“Great to meet you, too,” Brandon said. “Especially after hearing so much about you.”

“Really?” she said carefully. “Such as?”

“All good things,” he assured her.

“Now I'm truly worried.”

“Don't be,” he said, laughing. “Listen, I'm going to try those Buffalo wings on the pier as soon as I can get there. Thanks for the recommendation.”

“You're welcome,” she said. “I've never been to Buffalo but I think they're pretty close to the real thing.”

“That's what I've been looking for,” he said. “Whenever my team played the Buffalo Bills, we'd always go to the Anchor Bar downtown to get our fix. I haven't been able to find the real thing since then.”

“I hope you'll let me know what you think,” she said.

As Brandon continued talking, Trish casually gazed around the crowded ballroom and ultimately homed in on Adam. A rush of warm longing rose from her toes all the way up to her ears as she realized he'd been watching her intently.

He stood with Sally, who stared up at Adam with a look of glowing pride and Trish couldn't blame her. Adam looked incredibly handsome in his custom-made tuxedo, and Trish shivered involuntarily as she remembered how the two of them had spent the early part of the day luxuriating in the soaking tub, washing each other's backs and making love. Then they'd dressed slowly. She helped him with his formal bowtie and cuff links. He zipped up her jeans, slowly, inch by inch, his
fingers gliding along the zipper's path, touching her skin and sending ripples of heated desire throughout her body.

They almost didn't make it downstairs.

It was crazy. They'd spent the last forty-eight hours doing almost nothing but making love with each other. But now, gazing at him from across the ballroom floor, she realized she wanted him again. Would the wanting never cease?

It didn't matter. Once she returned home, she would turn the CD over to the local papers and quit her job at Duke Development. Grandma Anna would be avenged and Trish would move on with her life.

But for now she didn't want to think about that. For now, for this moment, there was only Adam.

She was about to make her excuses to Brandon and go to Adam, when a tall, dark and dangerously handsome man stepped in front of her.

“I'm Cameron Duke,” he said in a deep, rich voice. “Obviously, my brother's too rude to introduce us.”

“Not rude,” Brandon insisted. “Just being considerate of Trish's tender feelings.”

Trish grinned at Brandon, then shook Cameron's hand. “I'm Trish James, Adam's assistant.”

“I know,” he said, and his mouth twisted in a cynical grin. “I was wondering why we hadn't met you before, but now it's obvious.”

“It is?”

“Yeah,” he said. “You're beautiful.”

Trish felt herself blush. The Duke brothers were formidable, to say the least, and each one was more good-looking than the next. The three of them must've fueled the dreams of every girl they went to high school
with. Smiling up at Cameron, she said, “You're very kind.”

“No, I'm not,” he said bluntly.

“He's really not,” Brandon said with an affable grin.

The band struck up the first notes of a sultry samba and Cameron held out his hand. “But I'm a good dancer. Shall we?”

“Oh.” She cast a furtive glance across the room and saw Adam talking to someone else, so she smiled at Cameron and took his hand. “I'd love to.”

 

“Mr. Duke. I must speak with you.”

Adam turned, then had to look down at the short, thin man who'd addressed him. The middle-aged man wore a wrinkled black business suit with a worn purple tie and looked nervous and uncomfortable in the midst of all the festivities.

“Yes? What is it?”

“I'm Stan Strathbaum, former president of Strathbaum Construction, now a loyal employee of Duke Development.”

“Yeah?” Was he supposed to know this guy? Adam couldn't say why, but he disliked him on sight.

“Yes.” The man's lip curled up in a sneer as he pointed to the dance floor. “Mr. Duke, do you know that woman?”

Adam tried to follow the direction he was pointing and stared out at the dance floor.

“Which woman?” Adam said, his voice reflecting his annoyance.

“That one,” Strathbaum said, his finger jabbing the air as he continued to point. “The one in the black dress.”

What the hell? Was he pointing at Trish? Did
Strathbaum know how close he was to being tossed out on his ass?

“What about her?” Adam asked.

“I don't know her name, Mr. Duke, but I'll never forget her face. She stormed onto a Duke construction site several months ago and threatened me with bodily harm if I didn't halt the demolition of some old building near the pier.”

“Couldn't have been Trish,” Adam said confidently.

“Oh, it certainly was, sir,” Strathbaum said, and pushed his glasses up his greasy nose. “It was her. She was hostile and unstable and promised to take down Duke Development if it was the last thing she ever did. At the time I thought I'd have to call security, but I managed to drag her out of my office myself.”

He'd heard enough. How could this little creep stand here, insulting Trish? Who the hell did he think he was? “That's a ridiculous story.”

“I'm warning you, sir, that woman is a security risk.” He folded his arms firmly across his chest. “The entire resort and all the guests could be in serious danger.”

“What are you talking about?” Adam said, a hint of danger in his low, deep voice. “I'd like you to leave before I call security to help you on your way.”

The little guy swelled up like a self-important toad, but still managed to look wary. “Sir, you may not like what I say but I'm telling you the truth. I demand—I mean—”

But Adam had stopped listening. Instead, he stared at Trish, willing her gaze to meet his. He saw her eyes turn warm, then cloud up in confusion, then widen in horror as she seemed to recognize the obnoxious but apparently
truthful
man who'd just revealed her deepest, darkest secret to him.

 

From the dance floor, Trish noticed Adam talking to a slightly built man who looked alarmingly familiar. Her steps faltered.

“Is something wrong?” Cameron asked.

“I—I don't know.” But suddenly she recalled where she'd last seen that man and his prune-faced sneer. It was at the construction site where she'd gone to beg someone—anyone—from Duke Development to put a stop to the imminent destruction of her home. At the site, she'd had the unfortunate luck to deal with Stan Strathbaum, the man who'd insulted her, threatened her and tossed her out of his office.

The same man who was talking to Adam. He was even sneering now as he pointed his accusing finger right at her.

Trish's blood turned to ice and her world flipped upside down.

Filled with dread, she pushed away from Cameron. “I have to go, I'm so sorry. Good night.”

She quickly threaded her way off the packed dance floor and ran from the room.

By the time Adam made it up to the suite, she'd already called the concierge to arrange transportation back to Dunsmuir Bay. She'd packed away her beautiful dress and hurriedly changed into jeans, boots and a sweater.

He stormed into the bedroom. “Who are you?”

“You know who I am,” she said wearily, tossing her underwear into her suitcase.

“No, I don't,” he said. “Not anymore. Was that guy right? Did you threaten to destroy my company?”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“Trish, you went tearing off the dance floor the
minute you saw me talking to Strathbaum. What else am I supposed to think?”

“You're supposed to trust me,” she said weakly, as she threw her toiletries into a small bag and stuffed them into her suitcase.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to stop. “Trish, answer me. Did you threaten to take down Duke Development? Not that you'd ever have a snowball's chance, but did you?”

She exhaled resignedly. “Yes, I suppose I did, but it's not what you think. I—”

“Not what I think?” he shouted. “Hell, you just admitted it to me. What else am I supposed to think? Somebody tells me you were threatening my company a few months ago, then lo and behold, you're on my payroll. What the hell? Were you honestly trying to destroy me?”

“No!” she cried, pulling away from him. “I just needed something to—”

“What did you need?” he demanded. “Money? Is that it? Are you actually the gold digger I thought you were all along?”

She stopped and stared at him. “You thought I was a gold digger?”

He shook his head. “That's not the point.”

“You thought I was a gold digger?” Trish repeated more loudly, then came up close and jabbed him in the chest with her finger. “Let me tell you something, you arrogant jerk. I don't care anything about your money! Your company demolished my home. You destroyed my neighborhood, my grandmother's store, her livelihood and everything important in her life. You left us with nothing but rubble. My grandmother had a heart attack and died when you tore down the Victorian Village.”

“Wait. Victorian Village?” he said, bemused. “I remember that place. It was like a landmark.”

“Yeah,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “It was. Until you showed up. I grew up in that landmark. That was my home. The home your company demolished eight months ago. And why did you do it? Because Duke Development needed a
parking lot.
”