Misbehaving with the Millionaire: The Millionaire's Misbehaving Mistress. Kimberly Lang

at the heat in his voice, Gwen stared at Will.

      Will winked at her. “No sense letting her think this is going to be easy.”

      She rolled her eyes. “Then I’ll leave you to it.”

      Evie stuck her head around the door frame. “Yes, Will?”

      “The Asbury kid?”

      Gwen slipped past Evie and whispered “Good luck” as Evie fumbled for words. She repressed the urge to giggle as Evie straightened her shoulders but still seemed to slink in to the room to get Will’s permission for something she desperately wanted. In the privacy of her room, though, she succumbed to the urge to both giggle and do her happy dance.

      Feeling like the champion of teenagers everywhere, she logged in to her Miss Behavior e-mail, ready to sort out all the angst-ridden adolescents of the world. It kept her busy for the next half hour until Evie knocked on her door.

      “He said I could go!” Evie’s ear-to-ear grin was infectious.

      “I’m so glad, sweetie.”

      Evie wrapped her in a hug. “Thanks, Gwen. I’m going to go call Peter and figure out what I’m going to wear tomorrow. G’night.”

      “’Night.”

      Chuckling at Evie’s obvious glee, Gwen started work on her next column—about first dates in honor of Evie—and didn’t look up until she heard another knock on her door.

      She half expected Evie to come in with an armload of clothes, but seeing Will there wasn’t exactly a surprise, either.

      He closed the door and leaned against it. “You didn’t come back out.” She’d never heard him so disgruntled.

      “Sorry. I didn’t know you needed company.”

      “Evie disappeared to her room to call that boy back and you’ve been in here all night. I’ve been bored. And I had to eat dinner by myself.”

      This time she did laugh at his grumbling, and he looked at her sharply. “You find that funny?”

      “For someone who ate either alone or in the company of his BlackBerry until a few days ago, you’ve certainly set up camp on the other side now.”

      He shrugged. He and Evie had so many of the same mannerisms that it had to be genetic. “What can I say? I’m getting domesticated.”

      Her heart flipped at the word “domesticated.” It sounded so hearth-and-home and Will didn’t sound the least bit upset with the idea. When he smiled at her and crossed the room to pull her into his arms, that little warm spot in her heart she’d been keeping alive but carefully corralled blossomed into something she could no longer deny.

      Her rational brain argued it could be the biggest mistake of her life, leading only to heartache and regret. But rationality couldn’t hold back the knowledge that raced through her with such clarity it couldn’t be anything else.

      God help her. She was falling in love with Will Harrison.

      Intimidating the Asbury boy proved immensely enjoyable. Will didn’t doubt for a second Evie would be home by curfew. Evie was shooting daggers at him by the time she left, and his shins would be covered in bruises tomorrow from Gwen’s well-aimed kicks every time she felt he crossed a line at dinner.

      From the feel of it, he’d crossed several.

      If that’s what it took to convince Peter Asbury to keep his hands to himself, though, then his bruised shins would be well worth it.

      He helped Gwen clear the remnants of their dinner from the table. As she loaded glasses into the dishwasher, she shook her head at him. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Will Harrison.”

      “What for?”

      “You know exactly what for. I hope Evie comes up with a suitable revenge for your behavior tonight.”

      “Hey, all she has to do to avoid it is not date. I’d be good with that.”

      She wiped her hands on a towel and leaned a hip against the counter. “You are in for a long, painful journey through Evie’s adolescence. And I’m starting to think you completely deserve it.” She tossed him the towel and indicated he should wipe off the counter behind him. To his utter amazement, he did.

      Good Lord, he was becoming domesticated. He’d never held a conversation with a woman he was romantically involved with in a kitchen before—much less helped tidy it while he did.

      Gwen was a far cry from the usual husband-hunting trophy-wives-in-training he was used to. Instead of Prada and diamonds, she wore faded jeans and a pukka shell necklace Evie had given her. And instead of the normal topics of conversation he was accustomed to, she was teasing him and talking about the kid. It was a cozy domestic scene probably being played out in millions of households across the planet.

      It was odd. It was strange. Something nagged at him that he should be horrified, but he wasn’t. It was oddly comfortable, and somehow seemingly natural.

      Gwen cocked her head at him and raised an eyebrow. “Was all that big-brother caveman posturing really necessary?”

      “Don’t tell me you’re going to side with Evie.”

      Her chin went up a notch. “On behalf of younger sisters everywhere, I think I should.”

      “You can’t. We have to present a united front.”

      Her eyes widened, and he knew he’d said the wrong thing. Her next quiet words confirmed it.

      “I don’t get a vote here. I may side with Evie at heart, but I won’t undermine your authority.”