Millionaires' Destinies: Isn't It Rich? / Priceless / Treasured. Sherryl Woods

with tears in her eyes.

      “Let me see,” he commanded.

      “It’s nothing,” she protested. “Just a little burn. I told you I’m hopeless in the kitchen.”

      “Not hopeless, just inexperienced. Sit down. I’ll get some ointment for your hand.”

      “The French toast will be ruined,” she argued.

      “Then we’ll make more.” He took the pan off the burner, grabbed the first-aid kit, then pulled a chair up beside hers. “Let me see.”

      She held out her right hand, which already had a blister the size of a dime. He took her hand in his, trying not to notice how soft it was and how it seemed to fit so perfectly in his own. He put a little of the salve on the blister, but couldn’t bring himself to release her hand. Instead, he waited until her head came up and her gaze met his.

      “I’m sorry about last night,” he apologized. “I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I don’t even know why I said those things. I just wanted to push your buttons, I guess.”

      Temper immediately flashed in her eyes. “It was some kind of game? You didn’t really want to sleep with me? I knew it. What kind of man are you?”

      Uh-oh. That had definitely come out all wrong. “No,” he said at once. “That’s not it. Dammit, somehow whenever I’m with you, my words get all tangled up.”

      “I seem to have the same difficulty,” she admitted with obvious reluctance.

      He wanted to be sure she understood. “I do want you, but I also respect what you were saying about not getting involved with a client or even a prospective client. Besides, it’s not as if we know each other well enough for me to haul you off to bed. That’s not a step two people should take on impulse.”

      “No,” she agreed softly.

      He risked another look into her eyes. The temper had faded, replaced by heat of another kind entirely. She lifted her uninjured hand and touched his cheek.

      “Impulses are a risky thing,” she said.

      “Melanie.” His voice sounded choked.

      “Yes, Richard.”

      “It’s still a bad idea. You were right about that.”

      “I know,” she said, but her hand continued to rest against his cheek.

      “I still want to kiss you,” he murmured honestly, aware that he was testing the waters, waiting for a response. When she didn’t protest or back away, the last of his resolve vanished. “Ah, hell,” he whispered, reaching for her.

      She tasted of mint-flavored toothpaste and coffee. It wasn’t a combination he would normally have found the slightest bit seductive, but right this second it struck him as heavenly. He wanted more.

      Her lips were as soft and clever as he’d dreamed about during the long, lonely night. Her tongue was downright wicked.

      But even as his senses whirled and his blood heated, his conscience wouldn’t stay silent. A nagging voice kept asking him what the hell he thought he was doing. Seducing the sexiest woman to cross his path in months did not strike him as an adequate answer. It certainly wouldn’t hold up to a grilling by his aunt, who was this woman’s friend. Destiny might have a plan for the two of them, but he was relatively confident this wasn’t it.

      Eventually he let the voice in his head win, releasing Melanie reluctantly and sitting back on his chair, his hands clenched together as if he didn’t quite trust them to do what his head told them to do.

      “Sorry,” he murmured.

      “I kissed you back,” she said honestly.

      He grinned at her determined attempt to be fair. It was not an attitude he especially deserved, and they both knew it. “True enough,” he said anyway, because he liked putting some heat into her eyes.

      “You don’t have to gloat,” she grumbled.

      He held up his hands. “Not gloating,” he swore solemnly.

      She regarded him with an intense, unsmiling expression. “Richard, just so you know, nothing’s changed. I still won’t sleep with you and I still want that contract.”

      Richard didn’t doubt either claim. He just wasn’t sure he could live with them. Worse, he didn’t know why the devil that was, which meant mistakes could start piling up before he figured it out if he didn’t watch himself around her every single second. The trouble with that plan was that he much preferred simply watching her.

      Chapter Four

      Still feeling shaky from Richard’s unexpected and thoroughly devastating kiss, Melanie retreated to the living room immediately after breakfast. She grabbed a legal pad and pen and settled in front of the warm fire, determined to get some work done for some of her more appreciative clients. She had plenty of challenges on her plate. She didn’t need a stubborn man who wasn’t interested in listening to her advice.

      Despite her best efforts to concentrate, though, her mind wandered back to that kiss. No matter how hard she tried to steer her thoughts to something productive, she kept coming back to the way Richard’s mouth had felt on hers, the way he’d managed to make her blood sing without half-trying. She found herself doodling little hearts like some schoolgirl with a crush. This was bad, really bad. Annoyed with herself, she impatiently flipped the page, cursing when it tore.

      “Having trouble concentrating?”

      She jumped at the sound of his voice, then scowled at the teasing note in it. “No.”

      He laughed. “I won’t call you on that. However, since I can’t seem to concentrate, either, I was going to suggest that we go for a walk and grab some lunch in town.”

      “We just had breakfast.”

      Richard gestured toward his watch. “Four hours ago,” he noted. “You really have been drifting off, haven’t you? What were you daydreaming about?” He gave her an amused, knowing look, then added, “Or were you fine-tuning your PR plan for me in case I decide to relent and let you present it?”

      He reached for her legal pad with a motion so quick and sneaky, he managed to get it away from her. When he saw the hearts she’d drawn, he grinned.

      Melanie wondered if it was possible to die of embarrassment. If so, now would be the perfect time for the floor of this place to open and swallow her up.

      “Actually I was thinking about this really sexy television reporter I met last week,” she lied boldly, thankful that she hadn’t scribbled any initials on the page to give herself away and confirm the obvious conclusion he’d leaped to. That would have been totally humiliating. At least now he could only guess where her mind had been drifting. He couldn’t prove a thing.

      Richard took the bait, regarding her with curiosity. “Which reporter?”

      “What difference does it make?”

      “Just wondering about your taste in men,” he claimed.

      She didn’t buy that for a second. Her taste in men was the last thing on his mind. He was just trying to trip her up. She named the most eligible bachelor on any of the news teams in town. He was an insipid bore, but maybe Richard wouldn’t know that.

      Unfortunately, he lifted a brow at her response. “Really? Everyone tells me he’s pretty, but not too bright.”

      There was no mistaking the derisiveness in his voice. That “pretty” label sealed it.

      Melanie refused to be daunted by his attitude. “Maybe I’m not interested in holding a conversation with him,” she suggested.

      Richard merely laughed. “You’re going to have to do better than that, sweetheart. One rule of thumb when you’re lying, you have to make it believable.”

      “I’m