Millionaire Playboys: Paying the Playboy's Price. Emilie Rose

discovery. For the first time in her life, she’d tasted the mind-melting passion other women whispered about. And if she wasn’t completely incapable of desire, then what did that mean for her future with Wally?

      She didn’t have the answer, but one thing was certain. Her appetite for breaking the rules that had governed her life to this point had been whetted, and she couldn’t wait until her next lesson.

       Four

      Could the day get any worse?

      In answer to Rex’s question, the rain switched over to hail. It struck the metal roof like drumsticks on a snare drum.

      So much for the weather forecaster’s twenty percent chance of scattered showers.

      To get away from the temptation of the woman behind him, Rex considered stepping into the storm and letting the ice pelt his thick, horny hide, but he didn’t have any dry clothes and he’d ridden over on his Harley. The temperature had dropped by at least twenty degrees in the past ten minutes. He’d be hypothermic before he could get home.

      Lightning sliced the sky and thunder shook the ground. A frigid wind whipped through the open door, cooling his overheated skin and blowing his hair across his eyes. What had Juliana done with his leather string? He turned to ask but the question died on his lips.

      Juliana hugged herself. Her teeth chattered and goose bumps covered her bare arms, shoulders and even the tantalizing strip of paler skin across her belly. His protective instincts kicked in. “Let me see if I can find something to cover your head, and we’ll get you to your car.”

      “I’m n-not driv-ving in th-that.”

      He could barely hear her over the hail. “Your car has a heater.”

      “It’s not worth g-getting hit by lightning to g-get to it.”

      Good point. She’d parked a hundred yards away across an open area. The afternoon heat had already escaped the building, but he rolled the barn door closed anyway. He had to get Juliana warm. All he had to offer was his damp T-shirt. That wouldn’t help.

      “C’mon.” He led her into the tack room and shut the door. The temperature inside the eight-foot-square windowless room was marginally warmer. He searched the dim space hoping he’d somehow overlooked something in his cleaning binge that Juliana could wrap up in, but he found nothing. The barn had been a disaster when he’d leased it. Rats had taken over and made bedding out of any available material, so he’d scoured the place from corner to corner and thrown out everything. All that remained were a metal tack trunk, a steel drum for the feed and a rough cedar bench.

      “Here.” Dusky pink swept her cheekbones as she offered his strip of braided leather.

      He tied his hair and tried to ignore her chattering teeth, but couldn’t. His control dangled from a fraying rope and after that kiss the last thing he needed to do was touch her. Just his luck that his libido would emerge after months of hibernation for a woman he ought to avoid at all cost.

      The fact that she was freezing her tail off without complaint got to him. Her silent shivers got to him. Even her damp flowers-and-spice scent got to him. In fact, everything about Juliana Alden knocked him sideways. “Turn around.”

      Eyes narrowing, she hesitated and then turned her back. He brushed her hands out of the way and briskly chafed the cool skin of her upper arms. Her quick gasp tugged his groin. The firmness of the muscles beneath his hands surprised him. He’d expected a desk jockey to be soft, but Juliana obviously kept in shape from her tight arms to her tight a—

      Don’t go there.

      “I thought the weather back home was crazy.” Home. Except for his parents’ funeral, Rex hadn’t been back to the ranch since the day he’d turned eighteen, and even though the property had been sold, he still thought of the ranch as home. But his place was here now. Near Kelly, Mike and the girls.

      Juliana tilted her head and looked at him over her shoulder. Her hair glided over his fingers in a soft-as-silk caress. “The storm front sitting off the coast must have backed into the cold front coming from the northwest. Wilmington gets weird weather when that happens. In the winter, we get snow, which—trust me—is odd for the North Carolina coast.”

      Her shivers slowed then ceased. Her skin warmed and her muscles relaxed beneath his hands, but he didn’t want to let her go. A jolt of pure hunger hit him low and hard. It had been too damned long since he’d stroked a woman’s smooth, supple skin. Juliana leaned into him, and the desire to wrap his arms around her, bury his face against her neck and cradle her breasts in his palms grabbed him in a stranglehold.

      He dropped his hands and stepped away, but there was nowhere to run in the confined space. Saddle racks jutted from the walls, forcing him to stand only inches from temptation. “We’ll stay here until the hail stops and then you need to go home.”

      She faced him. “What about you?”

      “I came on my bike. I’ll wait until the rain lets up.”

      “And if it doesn’t, you’ll spend the night? Where? Here?” She gestured to the narrow four-foot bench.

      “If I have to. I’ve slept on worse.”

      A stubborn glint entered her blue eyes and her chin lifted. The single, bare lightbulb revealed a reddened patch of beard burn along her jaw. Damn. He hadn’t realized he’d been so rough. “I’m not leaving you here.”

      His pulse misfired. “There’s no point in both of us being cold and uncomfortable.”

      “That’s exactly why you’ll be reasonable and accept my offer of a ride home. I have a jacket in the car, so once the hail and lightning stop and I can get to it, I won’t be cold.” Her gaze dropped to the points of his nipples clearly outlined by his damp, clingy T-shirt. “And I keep a quilt in my trunk. You can use that.”

      His reaction wasn’t caused by cold, but he wouldn’t correct her. If she looked lower, she’d figure it out by herself.

      She tapped a finger to her swollen lips, and just like that, the memory of the kiss reignited the fire in his blood. Soft lips. Satiny tongue. He clamped his teeth, fisted his hands and fought to extinguish the blaze.

      “Are you worried that someone will steal your motorcycle if you leave it here overnight?”

      He should lie and say yes. It beat the hell out of admitting that he needed to put some distance between them before he pulled her back into his arms and put the strength of the bench behind her to the test. The flimsy thing probably wouldn’t hold their combined weight.

      Not something you need to be thinking about, bucko.

      “No. The owner has a couple of dogs she lets loose after dark. They keep an eye on things.”

      “Then I’ll give you a ride.”

      “There’s no need—”

      “I guess you could call for a pizza delivery and hitch a ride back with the driver if you’re afraid to ride with me.”

      Afraid? He straightened at the insult to his pride. “I don’t have a cell phone.”

      He’d given it up along with most of the other trappings of success. Besides, he didn’t want his Nashville associates tracking him down. Not that he was hiding. He hadn’t done anything illegal. But he had lost all respect for the man he’d become, so he’d cut those ties. Permanently.

      “Mine’s in the car. You can use it—if you insist on being impractical.”

      That set his teeth on edge. “I need to see to Jelly Bean. If the rain hasn’t stopped by the time I finish then I’ll take that ride.”

      He let himself out of the tack room and headed for the mare’s stall. He hadn’t prayed this hard for the