Misbehaving With The Millionaire. Kimberly Lang

she pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, she was fully awake. She caught herself humming as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail. Her amazingly good mood this morning had to be a residual effect of last night.

      Ahh, last night. Her skin warmed as images flashed through her mind. She tried to focus on something else as she turned off the bathroom light—she had to or else she wouldn’t get any work done today.

      Her laptop sat on a small desk in the corner of the room, ready for her to log on and become Miss Behavior. A white envelope sat on top of it.

      Her name was scrawled across it in a bold, male handwriting she had to assume was Will’s. A small, fuzzy feeling settled in her stomach at the thought of Will leaving her a note.

      She slid her finger under the flap, but instead of a letter, she found a check. A check made payable to her for an ob noxious sum of money.

      The fuzzy feeling died and she sat with an unladylike thud.

      Rationally her brain knew the check was payment for Evie’s training. She had a contract with Will for her services, and here was payment in full. They had a business arrangement, after all.

      Emotionally, though, she felt she’d been kicked in the stomach. Leaving a check in her bedroom after the weekend—hell, after the night they’d just shared—made her feel cheap. Like Will was paying for a completely different type of service.

      Ugh. I guess I should be glad he didn’t leave it on the nightstand.

      The rational part of her brain tried again. He had to leave it somewhere. Why mail it to your P.O. Box when you’re living right here? He’s not paying you for sex. Remember, he said business and pleasure were two totally separate things. Get it together, go to the bank, and deposit it so you can pay bills this month.

      She still felt a little sick, even with the “let’s be rational” pep talk. She slid the check into her purse and sighed. This was yet another reason she shouldn’t have gotten involved with Will.

      Gwen refilled her coffee cup in the kitchen, then turned her cell phone back on. She really should return Sarah’s calls before Sarah sent the police over to check on her.

      She flipped open the phone and her jaw dropped in shock. Twenty-two missed calls? Twelve new voice mail messages? Eight text messages? Good God, did someone die? She started scrolling through the missed calls log, noting most of them had come in within the last couple of hours, and nearly dropped the phone when it rang in her hand.

      “Hey, Sar—”

      “Why haven’t you been answering the phone? Are you okay?” Sarah’s rapid-fire pace didn’t leave her time to answer any of the questions. “I tried to call yesterday, and then after I saw Lifestyles—”

      “Slow down. What are you talking about? I turned—I mean, my battery died yesterday, so I’m just now checking my phone.”

      “So you haven’t seen Dallas Lifestyles today?” Sarah’s tone made her heart drop.

      “No. Why?”

      “Page three, Gwennie. You made page three.”

      Oh, no. Gwen sprinted to the kitchen and grabbed the glossy magazine. Page three was Tish Cotter-Hulmes’s page. Every Monday and Thursday Tish dished the hottest gossip and reported all the rumors on page three. No one wanted to make page three. Ever. Nothing good ever came of being on page three.

      The headline stopped her heart. Is Miss Behavior Misbehaving With Dallas’s Most Eligible?

      “I’ll call you back.” She closed the phone on Sarah’s sputtering and scanned the page. Oh, dear God.

      Rumor has it that our own Miss Behavior may be vying for a new title. Sources tell me Gwen Sawyer moved in to Will Harrison’s penthouse just last week, and there’s no way she’s only housesitting. In fact, Gwen and Will were spotted (along with Will’s sister, the newly arrived and very elusive Evangeline) dining at Milano’s on the West End and sharing popcorn at a movie afterward. Gwen and Evangeline were also spied having a very girly day of shopping and coiffing Friday, so I’m thinking there’s definitely something going on. We all know how big a step shopping is. Personally, I’m intrigued. How did Gwen and Will cross paths and when? How have they managed to keep a low profile long enough for things to progress this far? Could Will be not-so-eligible any longer? Or is our Miss Behavior just flavor of the month? Anyone who can shed some light on the beginnings of this affaire de coeur needs to call me, quick!

      In related news, the reports from Neiman Marcus say Evangeline spent a small fortune in a few hours with a personal shopper while Gwen supervised. Could this mean we’re finally going to meet the Harrison heiress soon?

      Several more paragraphs followed, each one more speculative than the last, all of them managing to put the worst possible spin on the slim details. Damn Tish! Gwen’s fingers itched to wring Tish’s scrawny, BOTOX-enhanced neck. Suddenly, the rash of missed phone calls made sense.

      The anger receded as a chill settled over her. Not again.

      Flavor of the Month? Her reputation could handle mild speculation about a possible romance, but to paint her as just another fling in a long line of flings? Especially one who had moved in? Once again, she was on the short end of the stick—Will’s reputation was fine, while hers was tarnishing rapidly.

      Romance or fling, one fact didn’t change: the conservative elite of Dallas society wouldn’t smile kindly on Gwen living with a man she wasn’t married to. It didn’t matter that it was the twenty-first century. As a debutante trainer, her moral compass needed to gravitate toward the 1950s—at least as far as her clients were concerned. It was unfair, yes, but a fact she’d come to accept as just part of the territory.

      And Will would be livid. While his business—both personal and professional—ended up in the papers more often than not, she’d realized over the past week how much he tried to avoid the limelight whenever possible. In the past, Tish had limited herself to merely reporting Will’s social life, but this time, she had moved to speculation and innuendo.

      This was bad. At least Tish kept the speculation about Evie to a minimum. It was one tiny point in Tish’s favor. Still, though, this was bad.

      Tish better hope she didn’t need any favors from Gwen anytime soon. Old Money was a small and closed society, but then so was the world of those who made careers on the fringes of that society.

      Damn, damn, damn! Sarah had been right from the beginning. She should have thought this through more thoroughly before she signed on. Now she was hip-deep in trouble. She paced the kitchen, berating herself and feeling like the world’s biggest idiot.

      Calm down. It could be worse. Right now, it was just speculation and gossip. There was no proof she and Will were any kind of item—fling or otherwise. No one, not even Sarah, knew their business relationship had crossed a line. Well, Evie might suspect something… It was only her own conscience reading damnation into Tish’s column.

      The one-two punch of Will’s check and Tish’s column made her want to crawl back into bed and start the day over again.

      But she couldn’t. She’d had five years to think about what she should have done when David hung her out to dry, and slinking away in disgrace had been the worst possible choice. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. It was damage control time. Gwen shuddered to think what waited in her voice and e-mail boxes. And the messages on her business line at home…

      She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Neiman Marcus and the West End were both public places. Anyone could have seen them and tattled to Tish. Plenty of people had to have seen her coming and going from Will’s building. Everything could be explained away easily—provided she could figure out how to explain without violating her nondisclosure agreement.

      She’d have to call Will. Something she didn’t look forward to.

      Will didn’t want