Paying The Playboy's Price. Emilie Rose

you out of your mind? And where in the world did you find that disgraceful dress?”

      Juliana’s insides clenched tighter as all her doubts ambushed her at once. She must have been temporarily insane to agree to Andrea’s suggestion that they celebrate their thirtieth birthdays by spending part of their trust funds on something wild, wicked and totally selfish.

      No, not insane. Desperate. If she couldn’t feel the heart-pounding passion other women whispered about with a man as blatantly sexy as the rebel, then she was a lost cause, and she’d be better off with a man like Wally who wouldn’t expect more than she could deliver.

      But while Juliana admired her mother’s business acumen and hoped to emulate Margaret Alden’s career success, the two of them had never been close, so confessing the tangle of emotions driving her decision wasn’t a viable option.

      “Mother, I have always done everything you’ve ever asked of me, but tonight, this—he—is for me.”

      She glanced beyond her mother’s shoulder. Juliana’s prize stalked toward her in long purposeful strides, and the hairs on her neck rose. Why did she feel like cornered prey? Determined not to be cowed by the cocky challenge in his eyes, she assumed the debutante pose her mother had drilled into her—tall and regal, chin high—and hoped her knees weren’t visibly knocking beneath her scandalously short hem.

      From a distance of ten yards—and closing far too quickly—the rebel’s dark gaze drifted over her, making her intensely aware that she wore nothing but a thong beneath the thin dress.

      Had she ever met a man who oozed this much sexuality? Definitely not. Her pulse fluttered irregularly and her skin tightened and warmed.

      “What about Wallace?” her mother whispered angrily.

      With great effort, Juliana tore her gaze away from her prize and refocused on her mother. “I will very likely spend the rest of my life with Wally. Neither of you should begrudge me a month of riding lessons.”

      Her mother’s lips flattened. “One month and then I fully expect you to come to your senses. The Wilsons are a fine family and Wallace has impeccable manners.” Her mother could be describing a pedigreed pooch, but then her mother would probably prefer a well-trained lap dog to a real man. “Be assured your father won’t be as understanding.”

      No, he definitely would not. He’d be whatever her mother told him to be. As much as Juliana loved her father, she wasn’t blind to his faults.

      “Hey, babe.” The deep gravelly voice sent goose bumps parading over Juliana’s skin. She ignored her mother’s shocked gasp and faced the man who’d come to a halt a yard away. The heat in his naughty smile and coffee-colored eyes robbed the strength from Juliana’s knees. He offered his hand. “I’m Rex and I’m going to teach you to ride.”

      Ride what? Or whom? The questions popped involuntarily into her head and she couldn’t breathe. Her teeth met with an audible click when she closed her mouth. She had definitely bitten off more of a challenge than she could chew. Rex Tanner was bigger, sexier and far more intimidating up close than he’d been onstage or in the tiny two-inch picture 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