At The Playboy's Command: Millionaire Playboy, Maverick Heiress. Robyn Grady

an artist?”

      “Couldn’t paint a landscape to save my life.”

      “Ever tried?”

      “I don’t set myself up for failure.” Seemed that monster steer-horn club design was an exception.

      “You must have painted when you were a child,” she said.

      “I’m not a child anymore.”

      But a memory of someone else who’d loved his paint and easel at a young age pushed its way into Daniel’s mind. Clenching his stomach muscles, he embraced the image for just a heartbeat then forced himself to shunt it aside. He kept walking.

      “I don’t paint,” he said. “Never will.”

      “Not even to make someone you love happy?” she teased.

      He answered with the utmost confidence. “Not even then.”

      “I’ve tried. Unfortunately I sucked.” Something warm in his chest tugged at her soft laugh. “My dream is to one day own a Monet Water Lilies.” A diamond bracelet glittered in the sun as she wound a long wave behind an ear. “How long have you been working for yourself?”

      Daniel shook off the image of Elizabeth looking stunning, standing before a panorama of those famous flowers to reply.

      “I started the company five years ago.”

      “From what I hear, you’ve certainly come a long way.”

      “I put in a lot of hours,” he said, matching his pace to her languid stroll. “I made the right contacts and things came together.”

      “You work hard,” she affirmed.

      “Always.”

      “Ever give yourself time off for good behavior?”

      “I treat myself when I’m on location.”

      “You mean when you’re away from home. Like now?”

      He looked at her twice. Was that a leading note to her voice, or simply wishful thinking on his part? Concentrating on the path ahead, he thought again and laughed at himself. Get it together, Warren. The lady isn’t propositioning you. She’s staying true to her hospitable heritage and being polite.

      “Most of my work comes from up north or overseas,” he pointed out.

      “You don’t get down this way often?”

      “This is the first time I’ve been in the South in over a decade.”

      “Then maybe we’ll bump into each other again—” she gifted him a wry smile “—in ten years or so.”

      The numbers tallied up in his head. In ten years he’d be forty-five. God willing, his business would still be going strong. But other than that …

      Would he still have the same circle of friends? He’d probably still be a bachelor. Fact was he’d never contemplated marriage. After his abomination of an upbringing, he’d go so far as to admit he shuddered at the idea. If a woman he was seeing began to slow down whenever they passed the diamond rings laid out in a jewelry store window, he quit calling. Harsh, perhaps, but necessary. He wasn’t looking for a wife. Didn’t want a family or a son “to follow in my footsteps.” He’d sooner put a gun to his own head.

      They arrived at the hotel, the oldest and best respected in Royal, so the maître d’ had told Daniel this morning on his way out. Elizabeth had stopped before a monster of a potted palm, looking like an earthbound angel as a dry breeze combed her long fair hair.

      She peered up at the hotel’s stone facade. “Well, this is it.”

      He braced his legs, shoulder-width apart. “Yes, it is.”

      “Good luck again.” Her tone was sincere.

      So was his. “You, too.”

      “Don’t work too hard,” she said over a slender shoulder as she turned and walked away.

      Daniel watched as those sexy pink heels clicked a provocative tune all the way down Main’s wide pavement. When she’d disappeared around the next block, he sucked down a breath and moved inside the quiet, high-ceilinged lobby then crossed the plush Oriental carpet to the lifts. In his suite two minutes later, he stopped to study his Cattleman Club’s mock-up and grunted. Giant steer horns. Not one of his better ideas.

      Decided, he snapped his cell phone from his belt. No use delaying.

      Abigail’s number was ringing when the doorbell sounded.

      He tossed an impatient glance over. Damn. He’d meant to put out the Do Not Disturb sign. Housekeeping could make the bed after he’d vacated.

      He strode over and fanned open the door. Rand stood in the corridor, surprise on his face.

      “You’re back already?”

      Daniel huffed. “No thanks to you.”

      “Boss, you pay me the big bucks to read your mind. You might not have wanted me to leave but you most definitely wanted to be alone with Elizabeth Milton.” Crossing his arms, he leaned up against the doorjamb. “How’d it go?”

      “Actually, very well,” Daniel conceded. “We had coffee. Chatted about the town’s history, how that might play into a new design.”

      Rand straightened. “Are we back on?”

      “No. We’re out of here,” Daniel confirmed. “Let me make a call and I’ll get back to you in ten with an exit plan.”

      “Want me to let the pilot know?”

      “Midday takeoff, if he can do it.”

      Rand pivoted away and had disappeared inside his own suite next door when the elevator pinged. Daniel’s door was halfway shut when the earth stopped revolving and, off balance, he nearly toppled sideways.

      What the devil was Elizabeth doing here?

      She emerged from the elevator like a star stepping onto a red carpet. Spotting him, she bowled him over with an innocent, dimpled smile.

      “Why, Daniel, you look stunned.”

      He remembered to breathe. To think.

      “Stunned would be the word. Elizabeth, what are you doing here?”

      Had Abigail sent her for some reason? No, that made no sense. Her being here didn’t make sense at all.

      A mysterious glint in her eye, she moved closer. “Invite me in and I’ll tell you.”

      He got his whirling thoughts together enough to step aside and motion her in. She brushed past, that irresistible scent drifting over him, and, breathing deep, he closed the door.

      “Is something wrong?”

      “Depends on how you look at it.”

      She continued on toward the center of the room, her behind hypnotizing him as it swayed in the pale pink fitted skirt. He swallowed against a suddenly dry throat.

      “I’d offer you a drink but nine a.m. seems a little early.”

      Pivoting around, she shrugged. “If I wanted a drink I’d have stopped at a bar.”

      “What do you want?”

      “Guess there’s no way around it,” she said, “except to come straight out and let you know.”

      As she closed the distance separating them and stepped into his personal space, Daniel’s respiration cranked up and sparks began to fly. When she pushed up on tiptoe, looped her arms around his neck then brought her lips to within a whisper of his, those sparks transformed into a more dangerous form of heat. Then, to really confuse him, she gifted him with a kiss that turned that heat into a world of fireworks. Compared to this, last night’s experience