Exposed: Her Undercover Millionaire

Something about the way he said her name made her face feel hot. In fact, she was beginning to sweat under her designer suit. She seriously needed to check the thermostat. Maybe the air-conditioning was on the fritz.

Or maybe her internal thermostat had gone haywire.

She resisted the urge to fan her face. “With the gala less than a month way, the first item on our agenda is to get you fitted for a rental tux.”

“With all due respect, that’s not exactly in my budget.”

She waved away his concerns. “I’m sure the foundation can cover the expense.”

His brow pulled low. “I’m not looking for a handout.”

“We’re a charitable foundation. Helping people is what we do. And the benefit is a black-tie function.”

His expression darkened. “Is that legal?”

His sudden change of demeanor, from playfully flirtatious to darkly suspicious intrigued her. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“A literacy foundation renting tuxedos for people? Sounds … unethical.”

She hadn’t really thought of it that way. But she doubted it would be a problem. “I’ll talk to Ana about it. I’m sure we can work something out.”

He seemed to acknowledge that as an acceptable answer. And though his behavior was the slightest bit … odd, she assumed it was just male pride.

She hoped he would accept the foundation’s help, as it would be a damned shame to miss the opportunity to see Brandon in a tux. He was going to look fantastic. Although she didn’t doubt that he would look even better wearing nothing at all. And the things he could probably do with that body …

“So, let’s do it,” he said.

Do it? She 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?”

She refused to answer on the grounds that it would mortify her. “Nothing. I just … I didn’t necessarily mean right this minute.”

He leaned forward in his seat. “No time like the present, right?”

“Well, yes, but …” She frowned, opening her laptop to check her calendar for appointments. “I have to check my schedule. I had several calls I planned to make this afternoon.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Let me guess, you’re the kind of woman who plans her workday down to the last minute.”

He said that like she was some freak of nature. Living such a spontaneous and … uninhibited lifestyle, he couldn’t possibly understand the pressures of the corporate sector. But she wasn’t totally incapable of compromise. She typically required several days’ notice for this sort of appointment, but if she moved a few things around, and stayed an extra hour at the office, she could make it work.

It’s not as if she had anything pressing waiting for her at home. Not even a pet. She was allergic to cats and considering the hours she worked, a dog was a responsibility she simply didn’t have time for.

“I suppose I could squeeze you in,” she told him. “But I’ll need to have a word with Cheryl first.”

“How ‘bout I meet you outside?”

“Sure. I’ll just be a minute.”

They stood at the same time. Even in her three-inch Manolo Blahnik pumps, he was a good five or six inches taller. She wasn’t normally intimidated by tall men. She wasn’t intimidated by anyone, but something about him put her on edge. The fact that she had to walk past him to get to the door made her nervous.

What did she think he was going to do? Pull her in his arms and kiss her stockings off?

If only.

Being around a man so blatantly sexy was a stark reminder of how long it had been since she’d had any male attention. Of any kind. She’d been so busy the last few months, she hadn’t had time to even think about dating. And sex? Hell, she could barely recall how long it had been since she’d had any. Any worth remembering, that is.

How sad was that?

She was willing to bet that Mr. Dilson could put a very pleasurable end to her dry spell. But he wasn’t relationship material and she wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of woman. Besides, she never mixed business with pleasure.

All things considered, it would be in her best interest to do her job, and stay as far the hell away from Brandon Dilson as possible.

Anyone who claimed that posing as an uneducated ranch hand to decimate the reputation of a bitter rival didn’t have its perks, had obviously never met Paige Adams.

Brandon Worth—or Brandon Dilson as the people at Hannah’s Hope had come to know him—leaned against the passenger’s side door of his pickup, soaking up the Southern California sun, considering this new development. When he’d made the decision to infiltrate Hannah’s Hope and expose the foundation as a fraud, seducing one of their contractors hadn’t been part of the plan, but a man had to do what a man had to do.

Maybe by getting closer to Ms. Adams he would uncover the nefarious practices he suspected were driving the success of Hannah’s Hope. And in the process he could finally bury its founder, Rafe Cameron.

If Brandon hadn’t chosen to stay on the family ranch despite his father’s failing health, Rafe may have never pulled off the very hostile takeover of Worth Industries, the manufacturing company that had been in his family for generations. Rumors were flying that Rafe planned to shut down the factory and sell it off in pieces, which would put more than half the city of Vista del Mar out of work and devastate the community. Brandon couldn’t help feeling personally responsible. He let his bitterness toward his father overshadow his obligation to his hometown, to his legacy. Now he was determined to make amends.

Through Hannah’s Hope, he planned to expose Rafe for the swindler that he was. Unfortunately, the volunteer he’d been working with the past couple of months knew virtually nothing about the inner workings of the charity. And he’d been careful to keep his distance from the Hannah’s Hope office, for fear that his sister, Emma, who was on the board, might make a surprise appearance. He hadn’t changed so much in fifteen years that his own sibling wouldn’t recognize him.

Paige Adams could be his ace in the hole.

Paige emerged from the building, extracting a pair of designer sunglasses from a designer bag and sliding them on. She sure had a thing for labels.

He didn’t usually go for the corporate type, but she couldn’t be any worse than his gold-digging, soul-sucking, vampire of an ex-fiancée. And when they shook hands there were so many sparks flying he thought for sure the surface of her pristine desk would ignite.

He had the sneaking suspicion that beneath the designer suit and polishe persona there was a wild woman lurking there, just itching to break free. And he would be more than happy to lend a hand. To run his fingers through her pale blond, upswept hair and mess it up a little. To kiss away that flawlessly applied lipstick.

He clearly made her nervous, a fact he would use to his advantage.

She spotted him leaning against the truck and strode over. She knew exactly where she was going, and how she planned to get there.

He grinned. They would just see about that.

As she approached, he opened the passenger door and gestured her inside. “Hop in.”

She stopped abruptly, blinking behind her shades. “Oh, um, I thought we would meet there.”

“No point in wasting gas if we’re both going to the same place. Besides, parking is a pain this time of day.”

She hesitated. Maybe she assumed because he couldn’t read well, he was also a poor driver. Or maybe she just preferred to be in control. It made sense that anyone as well put together as Ms. Adams had to have at least a few control issues.