The Substitute Millionaire. Susan Mallery

hand so his thumb could rub against the center of her palm. “It’s about my aunt Ruth.”

      “Which is?”

      “She’s your grandmother.”

      “That’s the rumor,” Julie said, trying to keep her mind on the conversation rather than getting lost in the need stealing through her. She told herself her reaction to Todd was more about the fact that she hadn’t been on a date in over eighteen months than anything he was doing. The problem was, she couldn’t seem to convince herself.

      “If she’s my great-aunt and your grandmother,” he said. “That makes us…”

      Ah, okay. She understood his concern. “Unrelated. She was your great-uncle’s second wife. They didn’t have any children together. She made it a point to explain all that. She didn’t tell you?”

      He withdrew his hand and sat up. “No. She didn’t.”

      “Now you know.” Speaking of Grandmother Ruth, Julie was going to have to send her a big thank-you when she got home.

      “Now, I do.” He stood and held out his hand to her.

      “What are you doing?” she asked.

      “Inviting you to dance.”

      Dance? As in…dance? She hadn’t done that since high school, and even then she hadn’t been very good.

      “They don’t have dancing here,” she said, staying firmly in her seat.

      “Of course they do. And now that I know we’re not cousins, let’s dance.”

      She was torn between the fear of making a fool out of herself and the thrill of pressing her body against his. Because now that she’d bothered to notice, she could hear soft, slow music in the background. It sounded nice, but it wasn’t nearly as tempting as the man standing in front of her.

      “Are you going to make me beg?” he asked.

      “Would you?”

      One corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. “Maybe.”

      She rose and put her hand in his. He led her to the rear of the restaurant, where a three-piece combo played and several couples clung to each other on the small dance floor.

      Before she could get her bearings, Todd pulled her against him and put his free hand on her waist. She found herself resting her fingers on his shoulder.

      He was all hard, lean muscle, she thought as her thighs brushed against his. They weren’t close enough for her breasts to brush against his chest, but she had a sudden wild and inappropriate desire to lean in and rub…like a lonely cat.

      Too long without a man, she told herself. And wasn’t this a really inconvenient time to figure that out?

      “You smell good,” he murmured in her ear.

      “Copier toner,” she whispered back. “Do you like it? I had to change the cartridge today.”

      He groaned. “Can’t you take the compliment?”

      “All right. Thank you.”

      “Better.” He smiled at her. “You’re not easy.”

      “Now that’s a compliment I can get behind.”

      “You like being difficult?”

      “Sometimes. Don’t you?”

      He moved his hand from her waist to the small of her back. “Sometimes,” he said, echoing her answer.

      She looked into his eyes. “You don’t like people making assumptions about you.”

      “You made them.”

      “You made them as well. We’re even.”

      “More than even, Julie. We’re good.”

      With that, he lowered his head and lightly brushed her mouth with his. The kiss was unexpected but delicious. Her stomach clenched and her breasts began to ache. He moved back and forth, but didn’t deepen the kiss.

      Public place, she told herself. He didn’t want to embarrass her. She should appreciate that. And she would…in time.

      He straightened, then cleared his throat. “We should probably go back and order dinner. You know, be responsible.”

      For a heartbeat, she almost asked about the alternative. What would happen if they kept dancing and touching and kissing? Except she kind of had a feeling she knew the answer to the question.

      Too much, too soon, she told herself as they stepped apart. She hadn’t been doing the dating thing for a long time—taking it slow made a lot of sense. But the man did tempt her.

      He kept her hand in his as they walked back to their table.

      “You never told me why you’re here,” he said when they were seated. “I told you Aunt Ruth asked me to come. What’s your excuse?”

      He didn’t know? Seriously? Oh, my. This could be good.

      “My mother and her mother have been estranged for years. Ruth popped back into our lives a couple of months ago. My sisters and I had never met her before. Mom hadn’t even mentioned her. Last week, at dinner, Ruth said she had a great nephew and suggested one of us go out with you.”

      “Interesting.”

      “More than interesting. She offered us…it’s not important.”

      “Of course it is.”

      “You’ll be insulted.”

      “I can handle the truth,” he teased. “What did she offer?”

      “Money.”

      He stared at her. “She’s paying you to date me?”

      “Oh, no. The dates are free. Now if I marry you, I get cash. A million dollars. Each. For me, my sisters and my mom. Pretty cool, huh.”

      A muscle in his jaw twitched, but otherwise, he didn’t show any emotion. She couldn’t begin to imagine what he was thinking.

      “We were all surprised,” Julie said. “We couldn’t figure out what could possibly be so wrong with you that your aunt had to offer that kind of money to get someone to marry you.”

      “Wrong? With me?”

      “Sure.”

      She was enjoying herself, but trying really hard to keep him from knowing.

      “We decided that one of us would go on a date and figure out how truly awful you were,” she continued. “We played Rock, Paper, Scissors to determine the most likely candidate.”

      He actually flinched at that. “Rock, Paper…” He cleared his throat. “So you won.”

      She allowed herself to smile. “Oh, no, Todd. I lost.”

      Two

      The waiter arrived to take their order. Julie placed hers, then waited while Todd did the same. He barely glanced at the menu, instead keeping his gaze fixed on her.

      “You lost?” he asked, his voice slightly strangled. “As in, you didn’t win?”

      She allowed herself a small smile. “Uh-huh. You know how it goes. The loser has to do the icky thing. That would be this date with you. Total ick.”

      “You lost?”

      He seemed unable to comprehend the fact that the three of them hadn’t been dying to be his lady for the night. Ah, the foolishness of men.

      “If it makes you feel any better,” she said before taking a sip of her drink. “I’m glad I lost.”

      “I can’t tell you how that confession moves me.”

      “You