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

sister for refusing to become a part of the support network on base. But Kelly had always been an ostrich who preferred ignoring a problem instead of dealing with it. She couldn’t handle the tragedies of other husbands being killed in action, so she isolated herself from the wives and turned a blind eye to the possibility instead of preparing for it.

      Reluctantly, he settled beside Juliana on the sofa. She looked slightly rumpled and incredibly sexy. With her lids at half-mast, she looked tired enough to nod off at any second. The urge to pull her head onto his shoulder wasn’t a welcome one.

      She covered a yawn with her hand. “I called Irma on the way to the airport and set everything up. She’s thrilled about watching the girls, and Kelly’s relieved that they’ll be in experienced hands most of the time.

      “Kelly, Irma and I worked out a schedule. The girls will spend the nights here with you. You’ll deal with mornings and then drop them off at my town house. On weekdays, Irma will take over until I get home in the evenings. Becky and Liza will have dinner with me, and then I’ll bring them back here for baths and bedtime. I’ll stay until you can take over, and I’ll watch them on the weekends.”

      Juliana had made plans, but she’d missed a few critical details. “Hold it. Most nights I don’t get upstairs before two. That’s too late for you to drive home, and I only have two bedrooms—the girls’ and mine.”

      She sat up straighter. “Bedrooms aren’t an issue because I’m leaving each night as soon as you get home.” She rose, picked up her purse and took a step toward the door. “I’d like to stop by in the morning on my way to work so the girls can meet me. I think that would make them more comfortable with me tomorrow evening.”

      For a lady who was supposedly good with numbers, she wasn’t adding them up very well. He rose and parked his hands on his hips. “How far do you live from here?”

      “About twenty or thirty minutes, depending on traffic.”

      “And what time do you usually get up in the morning?”

      “Six, but I’ll rise earlier to come here.”

      “If you drive home, you’ll get about three hours sleep before you have to get up and come back.” As much as Rex hated to admit it, there was only one solution. “Starting tonight, you’ll have to sleep here.”

      Juliana’s mouth dropped open. She quickly snapped it shut again and backed toward the door. “That’s not necessary.”

      “No way around it unless you can live without sleep. It’s late. You’re exhausted. Take my bed. The sheets are clean. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

      Her eyes rounded. “But I don’t have clothes or…anything.”

      The idea of Juliana sliding naked between his sheets guaranteed he’d have a hard time sleeping—hard being the operative word. “I’ll loan you a T-shirt. We can throw what you’re wearing into the washer. We’ll get the girls ready together in the morning, and then you can go home to dress for work. I’ll follow you. You can show us around and introduce us to Irma.”

      A hand fluttered to her throat. Several silent seconds ticked past while she digested the new plan. “I…okay. But we could um…share the bed?”

      Flames licked through his veins, singeing the edges of his common sense. He knew he shouldn’t—couldn’t—have her, but that didn’t mean he’d be able to control himself if he had to lie beside her all night. “And then neither of us would sleep.”

      Her skin flushed and her lips parted on a ragged breath. “I’m sure we could figure something out.”

      Need throbbed insistently in his gut. “No.”

      He stalked past her, retrieved the largest T-shirt he owned—the more she covered the better—a new toothbrush and a bath towel. “Soap, shampoo, toothpaste are all in the bathroom. If you need anything else just yell.”

      After a moment’s hesitation, she accepted the small stack. “Thank you.”

      He hesitated, but then forced himself to say what he had to. “No, thank you, Juliana. I didn’t have a backup plan, and Kelly knew it. If you hadn’t stepped in, I’m not sure what would have happened. I owe you.”

      And he wished like hell he didn’t because those kinds of debts always came back to bite you.

      Rex had been in the room while she’d slept.

      Juliana raked her hair out of her face and stared at the neatly stacked pile of folded clothing—her panties on top—sitting on the edge of the dresser beside her purse. Her heart thumped out an irregular rhythm.

      She shoved back the covers on the big leather platform bed and rose. Ten minutes later, after showering and dressing, she followed the smell of freshly-brewed coffee to the kitchen and stopped in her tracks.

      Rex, wearing only jeans riding low on his hips, leaned against the counter clutching a mug and staring into it like it held the elixir of life. His hair was loose and rumpled, and beard stubble shadowed his jaw and upper lip. Long hair should lessen his manly impact, but if anything the soft strands drew attention to the rugged masculinity of his sharply angled jaw, square chin and his broad shoulders. Curls in the same dark shade dusted his powerfully built chest, and Juliana couldn’t prevent her eyes from following the line of hair bisecting his well-defined abs to the button of his jeans.

      “G’morning.” His gravelly, sleep-roughened voice struck a match inside her, setting fire to her nerve endings as if they were fuses. She jerked her eyes upward and met his heavy-lidded gaze. He looked more like the big, bad wolf than ever and she wanted to be gobbled up by her reluctant rebel more with each passing day.

      “Good morning.”

      She’d never spent an entire night in a man’s bed—with or without him—and therefore, she’d never experienced a morning after. Was that why this felt so intimate and awkward? And yet she couldn’t have left the room if she’d wanted to.

      “Coffee?” He angled his head toward the pot on the counter.

      “Please.” Why couldn’t she be one of those women who carried a makeup kit in her purse? She didn’t even carry a comb or brush. She’d had to borrow his. Feeling unkempt and exposed, she dipped her head, swinging her hair over her cheek.

      He filled a mug and passed it to her. “Milk? Sugar?”

      She took it, being careful to avoid touching him. It was too early for that kind of shock to her system. “Just sugar.”

      He gestured toward the sugar bowl. “Help yourself.”

      “Thanks for um…washing my clothes.” With the way her skin tingled, you’d think he’d handled her, not just her panties. The idea of becoming intimate with him was growing on her—almost enough to drown her remaining reservations about her crazy plan to break rules. Her hand shook as she sweetened the dark brew.

      “You’re welcome.” He made no attempt to leave the kitchen. The room seemed to shrink and she had a hard time keeping her eyes off his body. If he’d lived a self-indulgent life before leaving Nashville as the tabloids claimed, then it didn’t show. There wasn’t an ounce of surplus flesh on his muscular torso.

      She dragged her gaze from his pecs to his eyes. “Would you like for me to prepare breakfast?”

      He scrubbed one hand across his nape. “I’m not sure what you’ll find. I’m not a morning person. I usually don’t eat until I go downstairs.”

      “May I search? The girls should eat before we head out. And honestly, there’s not much food in my fridge either. I usually shop on Saturdays. Irma promised to bring lunch and snacks for the girls with her today.”

      “Go ahead.” His assessing gaze slid over her, making her mouth dry and her palms dampen. She was out of her element and knew it. Not for the first time, she wished she had the sexual confidence of some of her coworkers, but