Paying The Playboy's Price

But purchasing the cowboy’s package would take more than recklessness and champagne courage. It meant flagrantly disregarding her mother’s wishes—something she’d carefully avoided until now for fear of the repercussions. But Juliana had to admit the proposed engagement combined with her thirtieth birthday had left her wondering if there was more to life. She’d promised Holly and Andrea she’d investigate the possibility before meekly agreeing to the future her mother had planned for her.

That didn’t prevent Juliana from wondering if she’d taken on a bigger challenge than she could handle when she’d selected her bachelor—a man the complete opposite of anyone she’d dated in the past. She said a silent prayer that the rebel’s price would exceed the limit she, Andrea and Holly had agreed upon, and then she could choose a less intimidating man.

Coward. If you do, then your plan will fail.

Her plan was beginning to sound more than a little like tequila madness. For once in her life, Juliana had decided to break the rules and, since she didn’t have the first clue where to start, she’d chosen Rex Tanner, a hell-raising rebel who she hoped would lead her astray. For the next month, she’d put herself in his corrupting hands and then once she had this last fling out of the way and she was certain she wasn’t missing out on anything worthwhile, she could marry Wally with no regrets.

“Go home before you get into trouble.”

Juliana nearly tumbled off her flimsy sandals at her bossy older brother’s growled warning. She refused to admit she’d like nothing more than to turn and run as fast as her heels would carry her. To annoy Eric, she raised her numbered fan, offering the first bid on Mr. Too-Hot-To-Handle.

Andrea and Holly grinned and gave her thumbs-up. Juliana didn’t dare glance across the room to where her mother, the charity event’s chief organizer, watched with an eagle eye.

She tilted her head back to glare at her brother. “How much trouble can a month of riding lessons cause? Go away, Eric.”

“I’m not worried about the horseback-riding lessons because you already know how to ride. It’s the other half of the prize that concerns me. You’ll kill yourself on a motorcycle. Be reasonable, Juliana. You are not the most coordinated person on the planet.”

The barb stung—mostly because it was true. In fact, these days she limited her exercise routine to swimming because then she wouldn’t fall off anything and get hurt when her mind strayed to work issues.

Eric attempted to take her numbered paddle, but Juliana snatched it out of his reach and stabbed it into the air. “I’m thirty years old—too old for you to be telling me what to do.”

“Somebody needs to. You and your friends—” he glared at Holly and Andrea “—must have been out of your minds to come up with this plan. Buying men, for crissakes. If you want to support the charity, buy Wallace and not this—”

“Hunk,” Holly interrupted, earning a scowl from Eric.

Juliana pasted on the placating smile she reserved for difficult customers. “Actually, Eric, our mother came up with the bachelor-auction idea. Andrea, Holly and I are merely supporting her efforts.”

“Dammit, Juliana, you can’t handle a guy like him. He’ll chew you up and spit you out. Use your brain. Buy Wally. He’s…safe.” He snatched at Juliana’s fan again and once more she jerked it away.

Safe. Those four letters said it all. She’d played it safe her entire life and where had that gotten her? Ahead in her career, but pathetically far behind in her personal life. She’d never fallen head over heels in love or even lust, and she couldn’t help wondering if she was capable of such intense emotions. Not that she wanted the heartache, but was it too much to ask for bells, whistles and earth-moving orgasms? For a woman like her—one who trusted cold, hard facts more than fickle emotions? Probably. But for once in her life, she didn’t want to play it safe.

She glanced at the man on the stage. Safe didn’t make her skin tingle or her breath quicken. She shoved the paddle into the air this time holding it high above her head and slightly behind her. Her brother was taller, but he was as conservative as she was. He wouldn’t make a scene or wrestle her to the ground to keep her from bidding.

“I don’t want to buy Wally. Saturday-night suppers? How unimaginative is that? Besides, I already have a standing dinner date with him on Fridays. What’s wrong with having a little fun? You should try it sometime.”

And then she winced. Eric had been very publicly jilted a few months ago and fun was probably the last thing on his mind. She suspected his heart hadn’t been broken, but his pride had to have taken a serious blow. The worst part was that since he’d failed to marry into the Wilson banking family, her mother had decided Juliana should.

She waved her paddle—a little more desperately this time. “Eric, I have carefully thought this out, and I know what I’m doing, so leave me alone.”

“Sold to number 223,” the MC shouted from the stage. “Pay up and collect your prize, young lady.”

Juliana’s stomach plunged to her crimson-painted toenails. She looked from Eric to her mother’s horrified expression. Andrea and Holly clapped and cheered. Juliana didn’t need to double-check her number to know she’d won the rebel, and she had no idea how much she’d paid for him—a true shock for someone who tracked money for a living. Slowly lowering her arm, she swallowed and briefly closed her eyes as a bolt of unadulterated panic zigzagged through her. She wasn’t ready to face the stage and the consequences of her virgin voyage into mutiny. She might never be ready.

Dizziness forced her to inhale. She faked a smile for Eric and anyone else who might be watching. “Thank you for your concern, big brother, but aren’t you supposed to be behind the curtain getting ready for your turn on the block?”

Eric flinched and paled. A smidgen of guilt pricked Juliana for verbally jabbing his sore spot with a deliberate taunt. Her brother was not happy their mother had shanghaied him as a bachelor. But Eric wasn’t Juliana’s problem right now. She had her own catastrophe-in-the-making to handle. Dread ballooned inside her.

With her brother’s muttered curses and Andrea and Holly’s “Go get ’ems” ringing in her ears, Juliana made her way to the table in the corner of the room and handed over her check to collect her…gulp…prize.

Her mother, with fury in her eyes, met her there. “Juliana Alden, are you out of your mind? And where in the world did you find that disgraceful dress?”

Juliana’s insides clenched tighter as all her doubts ambushed her at once. She must have been temporarily insane to agree to Andrea’s suggestion that they celebrate their thirtieth birthdays by spending part of their trust funds on something wild, wicked and totally selfish.

No, not insane. Desperate. If she couldn’t feel the heart-pounding passion other women whispered about with a man as blatantly sexy as the rebel, then she was a lost cause, and she’d be better off with a man like Wally who wouldn’t expect more than she could deliver.

But while Juliana admired her mother’s business acumen and hoped to emulate Margaret Alden’s career success, the two of them had never been close, so confessing the tangle of emotions driving her decision wasn’t a viable option.

“Mother, I have always done everything you’ve ever asked of me, but tonight, this—he—is for me.”

She glanced beyond her mother’s shoulder. Juliana’s prize stalked toward her in long purposeful strides, and the hairs on her neck rose. Why did she feel like cornered prey? Determined not to be cowed by the cocky challenge in his eyes, she assumed the debutante pose her mother had drilled into her—tall and regal, chin high—and hoped her knees weren’t visibly knocking beneath her scandalously short hem.

From a distance of ten yards—and closing far too quickly—the rebel’s dark gaze drifted over her, making her intensely aware that she wore nothing but a thong beneath the thin dress.

Had she ever met a man who oozed this much sexuality? Definitely not. Her pulse fluttered irregularly and her skin tightened and warmed.

“What about Wallace?” her mother whispered angrily.

With great effort, Juliana tore her gaze away from her prize and refocused on her mother. “I will very likely spend the rest of my life with Wally. Neither of you should begrudge me a month of riding lessons.”

Her mother’s lips flattened. “One month and then I fully expect you to come to your senses. The Wilsons are a fine family and Wallace has impeccable manners.” Her mother could be describing a pedigreed pooch, but then her mother would probably prefer a well-trained lap dog to a real man. “Be assured your father won’t be as understanding.”

No, he definitely would not. He’d be whatever her mother told him to be. As much as Juliana loved her father, she wasn’t blind to his faults.

“Hey, babe.” The deep gravelly voice sent goose bumps parading over Juliana’s skin. She ignored her mother’s shocked gasp and faced the man who’d come to a halt a yard away. The heat in his naughty smile and coffee-colored eyes robbed the strength from Juliana’s knees. He offered his hand. “I’m Rex and I’m going to teach you to ride.”

Ride what? Or whom? The questions popped involuntarily into her head and she couldn’t breathe. Her teeth met with an audible click when she closed her mouth. She had definitely bitten off more of a challenge than she could chew. Rex Tanner was bigger, sexier and far more intimidating up close than he’d been onstage or in the tiny two-inch picture printed in the program. Even in her heels, Juliana’s eyes barely reached the level of his mouth. What a mouth. And boy, did he look like he knew how to use it.

That is what you wanted, isn’t it?

No. Yes. No. Ohmigod, Eric was right. I can’t handle a man like Rex Tanner.

Yes, I can. And I will.

The corners of his lips quirked upward as if he were used to dumbstruck females.

Embarrassed, Juliana pasted on a polite smile. Her fingers trembled as she slid her hand into Rex’s. “Hello, Rex. I’m Juliana.”

Warm, callused skin abraded her palm as he grasped her hand, and when he slid his other arm around her shoulders, pulled her closer and turned her toward the photographer, every cell in Juliana’s body screeched in alarm at the searing press of his flesh against her side and his long fingers curved over her bare shoulder.

“Smile, babe,” he whispered in a voice as rough and piercing as a rusty nail. She felt the impact deep in her womb.

His leather-and-outdoors scent enveloped her, and his nearness made her woozy. She blamed the stars in her eyes on the camera’s flash and knew she lied.

As soon as Octavia Jenkins, the newspaper reporter covering the event, and her photographer sidekick departed, Juliana quickly disengaged and scrambled to make order out of her chaotic response. The temptation to discover how those long, slightly rough fingers would feel on the rest of her skin was a totally new experience and a step in the right direction if she found the courage to follow through with her plan.

If? You have planned this for weeks. You are absolutely committed to following through. No backing out now.

Overly conscious of her mother’s disapproval and the stares of the other patrons aimed at them, Juliana met Rex’s gaze.