Exposed: Her Undercover Millionaire. Michelle Celmer

at home. Not even a pet. She was allergic to cats and considering the hours she worked, a dog was a responsibility she simply didn’t have time for.

      “I suppose I could squeeze you in,” she told him. “But I’ll need to have a word with Cheryl first.”

      “How ‘bout I meet you outside?”

      “Sure. I’ll just be a minute.”

      They stood at the same time. Even in her three-inch Manolo Blahnik pumps, he was a good five or six inches taller. She wasn’t normally intimidated by tall men. She wasn’t intimidated by anyone, but something about him put her on edge. The fact that she had to walk past him to get to the door made her nervous.

      What did she think he was going to do? Pull her in his arms and kiss her stockings off?

       If only.

      Being around a man so blatantly sexy was a stark reminder of how long it had been since she’d had any male attention. Of any kind. She’d been so busy the last few months, she hadn’t had time to even think about dating. And sex? Hell, she could barely recall how long it had been since she’d had any. Any worth remembering, that is.

      How sad was that?

      She was willing to bet that Mr. Dilson could put a very pleasurable end to her dry spell. But he wasn’t relationship material and she wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of woman. Besides, she never mixed business with pleasure.

      All things considered, it would be in her best interest to do her job, and stay as far the hell away from Brandon Dilson as possible.

      Anyone who claimed that posing as an uneducated ranch hand to decimate the reputation of a bitter rival didn’t have its perks, had obviously never met Paige Adams.

      Brandon Worth—or Brandon Dilson as the people at Hannah’s Hope had come to know him—leaned against the passenger’s side door of his pickup, soaking up the Southern California sun, considering this new development. When he’d made the decision to infiltrate Hannah’s Hope and expose the foundation as a fraud, seducing one of their contractors hadn’t been part of the plan, but a man had to do what a man had to do.

      Maybe by getting closer to Ms. Adams he would uncover the nefarious practices he suspected were driving the success of Hannah’s Hope. And in the process he could finally bury its founder, Rafe Cameron.

      If Brandon hadn’t chosen to stay on the family ranch despite his father’s failing health, Rafe may have never pulled off the very hostile takeover of Worth Industries, the manufacturing company that had been in his family for generations. Rumors were flying that Rafe planned to shut down the factory and sell it off in pieces, which would put more than half the city of Vista del Mar out of work and devastate the community. Brandon couldn’t help feeling personally responsible. He let his bitterness toward his father overshadow his obligation to his hometown, to his legacy. Now he was determined to make amends.

      Through Hannah’s Hope, he planned to expose Rafe for the swindler that he was. Unfortunately, the volunteer he’d been working with the past couple of months knew virtually nothing about the inner workings of the charity. And he’d been careful to keep his distance from the Hannah’s Hope office, for fear that his sister, Emma, who was on the board, might make a surprise appearance. He hadn’t changed so much in fifteen years that his own sibling wouldn’t recognize him.

      Paige Adams could be his ace in the hole.

      Paige emerged from the building, extracting a pair of designer sunglasses from a designer bag and sliding them on. She sure had a thing for labels.

      He didn’t usually go for the corporate type, but she couldn’t be any worse than his gold-digging, soul-sucking, vampire of an ex-fiancée. And when they shook hands there were so many sparks flying he thought for sure the surface of her pristine desk would ignite.

      He had the sneaking suspicion that beneath the designer suit and polishe persona there was a wild woman lurking there, just itching to break free. And he would be more than happy to lend a hand. To run his fingers through her pale blond, upswept hair and mess it up a little. To kiss away that flawlessly applied lipstick.

      He clearly made her nervous, a fact he would use to his advantage.

      She spotted him leaning against the truck and strode over. She knew exactly where she was going, and how she planned to get there.

      He grinned. They would just see about that.

      As she approached, he opened the passenger door and gestured her inside. “Hop in.”

      She stopped abruptly, blinking behind her shades. “Oh, um, I thought we would meet there.”

      “No point in wasting gas if we’re both going to the same place. Besides, parking is a pain this time of day.”

      She hesitated. Maybe she assumed because he couldn’t read well, he was also a poor driver. Or maybe she just preferred to be in control. It made sense that anyone as well put together as Ms. Adams had to have at least a few control issues.

      He flashed his most charming smile. “Don’t you trust me?”

      He could see her brain working to summon a response that wouldn’t offend or alienate the foundation’s star pupil. Then she peeked inside the truck. He wasn’t sure what she thought she might find in there. Or maybe she worried she would dirty her designer clothes. The suit alone must have set her back at least a week’s pay. Or maybe she was a trust-fund girl. The kind with a daddy who catered to her every whim, bought her everything her greedy little heart desired. He’d met his share of those at boarding school.

      “I’ll get you back in one piece,” he said. “I promise.”

      Finally, she nodded and stepped past him to climb up. Quite a feat in her high heels, so he cupped her elbow to give her a boost, which gave him an awfully nice view of her nylon-clad thigh and—hello—was that a garter? Ms. Adams was an old-fashioned girl.

      “Buckle up,” he said before he shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side. He got in and grabbed his own thrift-store sunglasses from the dash and put them on. Though he wasn’t normally into labels, he did miss his Ray-Bans. “Where to?”

      “The rental establishment is just a few blocks from here, off Vista Way,” she said, looking even more on edge than she had in her office. “Do you know where that is?”

      “Sure do.” Though he hadn’t lived in Vista del Mar since he was fifteen, when his dad sent him away to boarding school, he’d been in town long enough to relearn the area. Not much had changed. He backed out of the parking spot and maneuvered out of the lot into the heavy afternoon traffic. Paige sat awkwardly at the opposite end of the bench, spine stiff, nails digging into the edge of the seat.

      He looked out the side window to hide a wry grin.

      She was clearly the kind of woman who thrived on order and discipline. Being in control. And maybe it was a little depraved, but as he was pumping her for information, he just might have a little fun knocking her world off its axis.

      Two

      For a man who spent his time isolated from the world taking care of horses, Brandon sure did have a way with people.

      The store she took him to for the fitting had recently opened, and Paige had been wanting to try it out, but twelve minutes after they walked through the door she knew she wouldn’t be coming back. The salesperson, a dour-looking older woman with a perpetual frown, was on the phone when they walked in and didn’t even acknowledge them. Five minutes later, when she did finally hang up, she went directly into the back room, still with no acknowledgment that they were even there, and didn’t come back out for another seven minutes.

      When she finally approached them she was snooty and condescending and looked down her nose at Brandon. If that wasn’t bad enough, she actually rolled her eyes when Paige told her they were on a budget and wanted to see the bargain rack.

      She