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

printed in the program. Even in her heels, Juliana’s eyes barely reached the level of his mouth. What a mouth. And boy, did he look like he knew how to use it.

      That is what you wanted, isn’t it?

      No. Yes. No. Ohmigod, Eric was right. I can’t handle a man like Rex Tanner.

      Yes, I can. And I will.

      The corners of his lips quirked upward as if he were used to dumbstruck females.

      Embarrassed, Juliana pasted on a polite smile. Her fingers trembled as she slid her hand into Rex’s. “Hello, Rex. I’m Juliana.”

      Warm, callused skin abraded her palm as he grasped her hand, and when he slid his other arm around her shoulders, pulled her closer and turned her toward the photographer, every cell in Juliana’s body screeched in alarm at the searing press of his flesh against her side and his long fingers curved over her bare shoulder.

      “Smile, babe,” he whispered in a voice as rough and piercing as a rusty nail. She felt the impact deep in her womb.

      His leather-and-outdoors scent enveloped her, and his nearness made her woozy. She blamed the stars in her eyes on the camera’s flash and knew she lied.

      As soon as Octavia Jenkins, the newspaper reporter covering the event, and her photographer sidekick departed, Juliana quickly disengaged and scrambled to make order out of her chaotic response. The temptation to discover how those long, slightly rough fingers would feel on the rest of her skin was a totally new experience and a step in the right direction if she found the courage to follow through with her plan.

      If? You have planned this for weeks. You are absolutely committed to following through. No backing out now.

      Overly conscious of her mother’s disapproval and the stares of the other patrons aimed at them, Juliana met Rex’s gaze.

      “Why don’t we get out of here?” Her words gushed out in a breathless invitation instead of the firm request she’d intended.

      A bone-melting smile slanted his lips. “That’s the best offer I’ve had all night.”

      After delivering a lengthy, censuring look, her mother pivoted and stormed off in a regal huff. Juliana turned in the opposite direction and headed for the exit before she could turn coward and ask for her money back. Without looking over her shoulder, she knew Rex Tanner followed. She could feel him behind her, hear the rhythmic thud of his boots on the marble floor, see the jealous glares of the women they passed directed toward her and the appreciative appraisals aimed at him. Many of those women were married and some were old enough to be his mother.

      Rex reached past her to push open the club’s front door, and a blast of sobering air smacked Juliana’s face as she stepped outside.

      Dear heavens. She’d bought herself a bad boy.

      What was she going to do with him?

      And how far was she willing to let this experiment go?

      Bought by a spoiled rich chick with more money than sense.

      Rex studied Juliana’s arrogant bearing and questioned his sanity in agreeing to his sister’s crazy suggestion to use the bachelor auction to publicize his bar. If the bank note weren’t coming due in sixty days, then nothing could have persuaded him to get back on a stage in front of screaming women.

      Been there. Done that. Burned by it.

      Self-disgust didn’t stop him from appreciating the tasty morsel in front of him as she swished her red-wrapped hips away from the noise and chaos inside. Her lingerie-style dress looked like something she’d wear to bed instead of to a swanky country club, and the dark curtain of hair bouncing between her shoulder blades glowed with the same rich patina of his old guitar.

      For the first time since moving to Wilmington, he found himself attracted to a woman, but everything about Juliana, from her cultured southern voice to her expensive clothing and the chunk of change she’d dropped on him tonight, screamed money. Rich gals like her didn’t settle for rough-off-the-ranch guys like him long-term, and he’d had enough meaningless encounters to last a lifetime. When he’d left Nashville and the groupies behind, he’d sworn he’d never use or be used by a woman again. As long as Juliana realized that she’d bought his auction package and nothing else, they’d get along fine. But before he followed her wherever she was headed, he needed to be certain of one thing.

      “Hey, Juli,” he called as they reached the semicircular stairs leading down to the parking lot.

      She jerked to a halt and spun to face him. Her bright blue eyes nearly made him forget what he was going to say.

      Her chin inched upward. “My name is Juliana.”

      Stuck-up or not, she didn’t look like the kind of woman who had to buy men. “Yeah, sure. You have a jealous husband who’ll be gunning for me?”

      A confused frown puckered her brows. “A husband?”

      “The guy trying to stop you from bidding,” he clarified.

      “That was my brother. I’m not married.”

      “’S’all right then as long as you’re over twenty-one.”

      Her long lashes fluttered and a pleat formed between her eyebrows. “You have jealous husbands chasing you?”

      She’d ignored his comment about age. “Not anymore.”

      Her red lips parted and her chest—a damned fine chest—rose. “But you did?”

      “Yeah.” Most guys didn’t take it well when they found out their wives had slept with another man. Rex hadn’t taken the news that some of the groupies were married well, either—especially since the info had often been delivered via their husbands’ fists after the intimate encounters.

      He thought he heard Juliana wheeze as she turned to descend the steps. He’d have to be dead not to appreciate her long, sleek and sexy-as-all-get-out legs atop those red heels. She stopped abruptly at the base of the stairs with a distressed expression on her pretty face.

      “Problem?”

      She touched long slender fingers to her temple and then against her throat. “I rode with friends. I don’t have a car, and I want to…” She looked past his shoulder and panic flared in her eyes.

      He turned and spotted the pearl-clad dragon lady who’d organized the event and an uptight-looking man coming through the front door of the club. Understanding dawned. “You want to get out of here?”

      “Yes, and fast.”

      “Did you write a bad check?”

      Impossible as it seemed, her regal posture turned even starchier, as if he’d insulted her. “Of course not. Please, get me out of here.”

      These days he avoided ugly scenes. “My bike’s this way.”

      Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. She gestured to her skimpy attire. “I’m hardly dressed for a motorcycle ride.”

      He ought to leave her, but dammit, he’d agreed to this stupid auction and he would follow through. Besides, he wouldn’t wish the dragon lady on anybody. “I don’t see any taxis. If you need to make a fast getaway, then I’m your only option. Where to? Home?”

      She grimaced. “Anywhere but there.”

      “Let’s go.” He grabbed her elbow and towed her toward his Harley. She jogged to keep up. When they reached the side of his motorcycle—one of a handful of items he’d kept from his past—he tossed her his spare helmet and waited to see that she knew how to fasten it before donning his own. “Hop on and hold on.”

      Seconds later she’d mounted the bike behind him and gingerly clutched his waist, but she kept several inches between them. He twisted the throttle. The engine roared and the bike surged forward as he released the clutch. Her squeal pierced the deep growl of the Harley, and then