Millionaire Playboys: Paying the Playboy's Price

“Your motion. You’re perching on top of the saddle instead of sinking into it, and every one of your muscles is strung as tight as a bow. Relax your upper body and your legs. Slump into the saddle.”

“All my life I’ve been taught to sit up straight, and you’re telling me to slouch?” Her haughty tone was exactly what he needed to remind himself of the differences between them.

“Not exactly, but you have to relax here.” He quickly tapped the base of her spine with a fingertip. “Here.” He nudged her thigh with his knuckle. “And here.” His palm brushed her lower abdomen. He quickly withdrew it. Her body heat scalded his skin. He stepped away from the horse and crossed to the center of the riding ring. Ten yards wasn’t enough distance to douse the fire smoldering in his gut.

“Cue her to jog when you’re ready.” Juliana nudged Jelly Bean into a slightly faster gait. Juliana tried to post, rising and lowering in the saddle from her knees as she would if riding English. “No posting. Sit.”

She did and probably rattled a brain cell or two as she—and her perfectly shaped breasts—bounced along.

Rex ground his molars. He’d been attracted to a lot of women, but not this way. Had to be because he knew this relationship—like the ones in his past—would go nowhere. Falling back into old, bad habits was not part of his plan. “Scoot.”

“Wh-at do you m-ean sc-oot?” The jarring broke her words into fragments. The mare snorted her displeasure.

“Rock your hips from the waist down.” She looked at him as if he’d asked her to fly. In frustration he said, “Match your moves to the horse’s. Like you’re with your lover.”

Her lips parted and her cheeks turned the color of a ripe peach. She jerked her face forward to stare straight between Jelly Bean’s ears, but within seconds she had the correct motion. “Sorry. It’s been a while, but I think I have it now.”

Been a while? Riding a horse or with a lover? None of your business, bud. But the image of Juliana as his lover, straddling his thighs and arching to take his deep thrusts flashed in his mind. Heat oozed from his pores and his lungs stalled.

“Yeah. You got it,” he croaked.

Keeping his distance from the bean counter was critical. She knew who he was, knew about his past. Worse, he feared she had the power to bring the self-centered SOB he used to be out of hiding. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

When the man turned off the charm, he really turned it off. Juliana sighed. Rex hadn’t given her a single sign of encouragement. And darn it, she didn’t know how to flirt without looking like a bimbo with something in her eyes.

She reluctantly climbed from the mare’s back. Was she so unattractive, so lacking in basic feminine charms that even a man who’d reportedly had women in every town his tour bus had rolled through wasn’t interested? Ouch.

She had to find a way to get her plan back on track. In accounting, that meant understanding the parameters of the investigation, and the only way to achieve understanding was by asking questions, beginning with the nonthreatening ones and easing into the intrusive ones. She likened the practice to putting a jigsaw puzzle together, borders first.

“I don’t suppose you’d consider selling Jelly Bean?” Not that she had much time to ride anymore, but this evening with a light breeze stirring her hair and the setting sun on her skin reminded her how much she missed having a horse in her life.

“She’s not mine to sell. I bought the mare for Becky and Liza.”

“And Becky and Liza are…?”

“My nieces.”

“You bought them a horse? Did you also buy this property so they’d have somewhere to ride?”

He shook his head and his rope of shiny hair swished between his shoulder blades. The urge to tug the leather tie loose and see if the strands felt as thick and luxurious as they looked was totally out of character for her, but her neatly clipped-above-the-collar world hadn’t allowed her to experience a man with longer hair without the width of a desk and the professional wall of her position at the bank between them. The men she’d dated in the past had all been the preppy, Ivy League type. Like Wally. Clean-cut. No rough edges.

Rex had rough edges aplenty.

“Farm’s not mine. I rent the barn and a few acres from the owner. Her husband died last year. She leases the stable and the surrounding land to pay the mortgage.”

“What made you choose to locate your business in Wilmington? We’re not exactly horse country.”

He flashed an irritated glance in her direction. Oops, had she sounded too much like a bank investigator? For a moment she thought he’d refuse to answer. “My brother-in-law is with Camp Lejeune’s 4th Marine Expeditionary Brigade antiterrorism unit. I wanted to be nearby to help my sister with the girls when he’s deployed. He’s in Baghdad now.”

Another chink in his bad-boy shell. What other discrepancies would she find if she looked past his rebel veneer? And did she really want to know? Her dislike of unanswered questions outweighed the need to keep her emotional distance. “You grew up on a ranch in tornado alley?”

“Yes,” he barked in a mind-your-own-business voice and then took the reins from her and led the mare into the shade of the small four-stall barn.

Juliana’s gaze immediately drifted to his firm behind in faded denim. When she realized what she was doing, she jerked her eyes back to the breadth of his shoulders. In the past, she’d been more concerned with a man’s character instead of his looks, but she had to admit Rex had great packaging.

The smell of oats, hay and fresh shavings, and the hum of insects brought back memories. Until she’d turned seventeen, she’d spent almost as much time with her horse as her books, but when her old gelding had died of colic, she hadn’t had the heart to replace him.

“Did you miss the ranch when you were touring?”

For several moments, Rex ignored her question while he exchanged the bridle for a halter and cross-tied the mare in the stall. He shoved his hand into the caddy carrying the brushes and stabbed a soft bristled-body brush in her direction. “Yes. Groom her.”

Juliana couldn’t imagine leaving Wilmington or Alden’s behind. For as far back as she could remember, she’d wanted to work in Alden’s headquarters. The building’s two-story foyer, with its marble pillars and the wrought-iron railings on the second-floor balcony, had been her own personal castle. She’d loved visiting after hours with her father, listening to the echo of their footsteps across the marble floor and the overwhelming silence of the place after the employees and customers had left for the day.

Because she’d wanted to stay near home and friends, she’d chosen to attend the local state university—much to her mother’s dismay—rather than go to an Ivy League school out of state like so many of her classmates. The University of North Carolina at Wilmington had been her father’s alma mater, and for once he’d spoken out against her mother’s decrees and supported Juliana’s decision to go to school locally and serve an internship at Alden’s.

“Did you ever think of moving back?”

His gaze met hers over the horse’s withers. The grooves beside his mouth deepened, drawing her attention to the dark evening beard shadowing his square jaw and upper lip. “You bought riding lessons not my life story.”

Touchy, touchy. But she dealt with hostile people all the time. Digging into someone’s accounts and revealing discrepancies didn’t bring out the best in anyone. She’d learned to hold her ground and keep asking the questions until she had the information she needed. What exactly was she looking for here? She didn’t know, but she’d keep digging until she found it.

“No, Rex, I didn’t buy your biography, but if we’re going to spend approximately sixteen hours together over the next four weeks, then we have to have something to discuss besides the weather. The story of my life would put us both to sleep, and since I imagine napping is frowned upon when riding or driving, I thought we’d try yours. You’re welcome to volunteer other topics if you choose.”

Scowling, he removed the mare’s saddle and saddle pad, and deposited both on the top of the stall’s wooden half door, and then braced his hands on either side of it. His shoulders, clad in another Renegade T-shirt, looked as stiff and broad as the beams supporting the barn roof.

“Yes, I missed the ranch. And I wish I’d gone back. But, I didn’t. By the time I wised up, my sister had married and moved away and my parents were dead.” He delivered the information in a matter-of-fact tone. His warning not to offer pity or sympathy came across loud and clear, but the ill-concealed pain in his voice brought a lump to Juliana’s throat.

She ducked under the cross-tie, hesitated and then laid her hand on the rigid muscles of his back. “I’m sorry.”

He flinched and stepped out of reach, then ducked to pick up the grooming caddy. Heat zinged through her from the brief contact, crackling and popping along her nerve endings in an unsettling manner. She lowered her arm and closed her prickling fingers into a fist. Before she could separate and label the avalanche of sensations, he straightened and turned. The emptiness in his eyes made her chest ache.

“Don’t be. I got what I deserved. Groom the mare. I’ll put the tack away and get her oats. We have to meet the reporter at Renegade in thirty minutes.” He shoved the grooming box in her direction, snatched up the saddle and bridle as if they weighed nothing, and left.

Juliana stared after him. If Rex thought snarling like a wounded beast would put her off, then he’d miscalculated. The glimmer of softness he tried so hard to conceal had piqued her curiosity, and once Juliana had a puzzle to solve, she never gave up until she had every piece in place.

Three (#ulink_d8aed204-dbe2-5c76-98f2-6d8d6e9ddca1)

“So tell me, Ms. Alden, why would the heiress to a banking empire need to buy a date?” Octavia Jenkins, the reporter, asked.

Heiress. Rex’s chair wobbled precariously. He nearly fell over backward. Fighting for balance, he rocked forward. The front legs of the chair hit the floor with a thud. Up until now, he’d been completely relaxed. His half of the interview had gone well. He’d plugged the bar, served the reporter a selection of tasty appetizers and avoided discussing his aborted career.

“Your family owns the bank?” Rex asked. His first impression after the auction had been that Juliana had more money than sense, but he hadn’t expected it to be that much money. Holy spit.

Juliana shifted in her seat and glanced around the restaurant as if checking to see who’d overheard his question. “I told you I worked for Alden Bank and Trust.”

“You never told me your family owned it.” And owned him, or at least the note on his business. It would be her family’s minions who would padlock Renegade’s doors if Rex couldn’t pay off the note. And he’d lose everything—his apartment and his business—since he’d invested all he had into Renegade. “You never told me your last name.”

“You never asked.”