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

what do you think?” Will’s attention was back on her, and she straightened her spine. Even with her irritation, she had to be impressed with how he could jump from one task to another and not lose track of either. Will steepled his fingers as he leaned back in his chair, one eyebrow raised in question.

      “I’d be glad to work with your sister, Mr. Harrison, but three weeks is not a lot of time…”

      “Exactly. You’ll need every spare minute with Evie.” He reached for a pen and scribbled something on a piece of paper before rounding the desk once again. This time, though, he leaned his hips back against it as he handed her the paper.

      Dragging her thoughts from the long legs stretched out so close to her, she blinked and tried to focus on the bold scrawl.

      An address in the elite Turtle Creek neighborhood.

      “I’ve told the housekeeper, Mrs. Gray, to prepare the guest room. You can move your things in tonight and start with Evie tomorrow.”

      Heat rushed to her cheeks at the thought, and she struggled to find words. “M-m-move in? Are you—I mean, that’s not—” She took a deep breath to calm the unprofessional stuttering caused by his presumptuous statement. “I have a business to run—other clients and responsibilities.” And the papers would have a field day.

      “Evie spends several hours a day with her tutors catching up on schoolwork. That would give you some time to take care of your other responsibilities. I’m quite willing to pay you for the inconvenience.”

      She had to call on years of training not to react at the outrageous figure he mentioned. He was serious about this.

      “And, as I said earlier, your discretion is essential.”

      Discretion? For that amount of money he could silence Dallas Lifestyles’s gossip columnist.

      She was younger than he’d expected. Prettier, too, in a wholesome girl-next-door kind of way. She lacked that brittle edge that often came with sophistication—a nice contrast from the women he was used to.

      He’d been expecting a plump, gray-haired, grandmotherly type—or, at the very least, a Mary Poppins—if for no other reason he felt anyone calling herself an expert on anything should at least look old enough to drink. Miss Gwen Sawyer was neither plump nor grandmotherly and probably got carded on a regular basis. At the same time, she projected a kind of cool elegance that fascinated him and that Evie would benefit from learning.

      She acted completely calm and professional, but he knew she wasn’t as detached as she looked. While Miss Sawyer was capable of keeping a good poker face, she couldn’t control those wide hazel eyes of hers that expressed each and every feeling the moment she had it. And she’d experienced several throughout their interview. Calculation, shock, confusion—she’d worked through them all. At least once, he’d even seen irritation there, but he wasn’t sure why. But something had thrown Gwen off her game very early on in the meeting, and it had taken a few minutes for her to regroup. He still hadn’t figured out what that had been about, either.

      He expected the money to throw her off-guard. It was much more than such services could possibly cost, but it would assure she’d give Evie her full attention and keep her mouth closed to Tish Cotter-Hulme, the local society gossip columnist.

      Gwen regained her balance much more quickly this time, covering her discomfort with cool politeness. Nice trick. Hopefully she could teach it to Evie.

      “I couldn’t possibly move into your home.”

      “Are you married?” He glanced down to where her fingers laced together in her lap. The white knuckles gave away her agitation as clearly as her eyes did, but from his position, he couldn’t see if she wore a ring or not.

      “Excuse me?” Her eyebrows flew toward her hairline in shock, and a flush stained her cheeks.

      “Are you married? Do you have children or something?” Gwen took a deep breath before answering, and he realized he was a little too interested in her response.

      “No, but—”

      “Good.” He let out the breath he’d been holding. “I understand the request is a bit odd—” Gwen gave him a wonderful “you think?” look that would have been funny in a different situation, so he forged ahead before she could mount a stronger rejection of his offer. “But Evie’s still recovering from her mother’s death. She’s a little fragile at times and having a hard time adjusting. She needs someone who can give her undivided attention. It would be easier on her to have you there full-time.”

      He could see Gwen softening.

      She played with the pearls at her neck, calling his attention to the flush rising from the collar of her blouse. “I guess I could—”

      “Excellent.”

      Gwen took a deep breath, and her hand fell back to her lap. When she spoke, that cool professionalism was back. In a way he was disappointed; a slightly rattled Gwen was much more interesting.

      “I’ll prepare a contract and fax it to your secretary this afternoon.”

      “And I have a nondisclosure agreement that will require your signature as well. I don’t want Evie embarrassed or details of my private life shared with the papers.”

      “Of course. I understand completely.” She stood, and he rose to his feet. Although he topped her by a good seven inches, she pushed her shoulders back and looked him squarely in the eye for the first time since he’d rattled her with his unorthodox proposal. “I’ll gather my things and be at your home tonight around six-thirty or so. Will that be acceptable?”

      Her words caused a smile. He didn’t know much about etiquette, but Miss Sawyer would make one hell of an executive if she put her mind to it. He was looking forward to seeing her in action with Evie.

      “That’ll be fine. I’ll tell Mrs. Gray to serve dinner around seven.”

      She offered her hand. “I’ll see you then. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Harrison.”

      “Call me Will.”

      “And I’m Gwen. I’ll see you tonight.”

      With another of those cool, polite smiles, Gwen Sawyer showed herself to the door, allowing him the opportunity to observe what he’d missed earlier by being on the phone when she arrived. Long legs. Nice curves almost camouflaged by a conservative suit. A graceful and unhurried walk.

      Hopefully Evie would take to her.

      He couldn’t help but think back to the evening two nights ago. After Marcus left, he’d found Evie on the stairs, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. Evie took after Rachel with her auburn hair and high cheekbones, but she had her father’s—their father’s—eyes. Unsure how to handle a teary teenager, he’d joined her on the steps but said nothing.

      Evie broke the silence first. “I’m sorry I’m such an embarrassment to you.”

      She must have overhead Marcus’s comments. “You’re not an embarrassment. You just don’t know what it’s like here.” He patted her shoulder, feeling awkward as he did. He was still new to this big brother thing.

      “I’m willing to learn, Will. I promise I’ll work really hard.” She swallowed hard as the tears overflowed. “Please don’t send me away.”

      “Away?”

      “To boarding school. I heard Uncle Marcus mention it last week. I don’t want to go. Please, Will.”

      Guilt at even considering Marcus’s suggestion nagged at him. “You’re not going to boarding school. You’re a Harrison, and this is where you belong.”

      Evie’s tear-streaked face split into a wide grin as she launched herself into his arms.

      Parenting a teenager still had him confused, but he’d bridged a gap that night with Evie.