The Seduction (Billionaire's Beach Book 5)

by Christie Ridgway

  “You haven’t heard a word I’ve spoken.”

  Lucas blinked then turned his head to look at the sister he’d been tuning out as she chattered on about something-or-other. “Sorry,” he said to Stella. “What were you talking about?”

  “You were off on another of your head-journeys,” she scolded and then shook her finger at him. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to get lost in your brain someday and never make it back.”

  “You’re right,” he conceded. “I’m bad.”

  “You’re not bad, Lucas,” Stella corrected. “Just consumed by business.”

  Except that business had been far from his mind the past few minutes. And though sprawled on the overlarge couch in his Malibu place, with the panoramic doors folded open onto the patio and the spectacular ocean view, he hadn’t been consumed by the incredible vista spread before him, either.

  A figure flitted at the edge of his vision, her black, white, and gray uniform a contrast to the greens and blues of the walls and furniture.

  He’d been preoccupied by thoughts of his butler. Which wasn’t smart. Before this last trip, he’d been careful to keep things between them all professional, all the time. But after a week away, his first glimpse of her had rocked him. So damn beautiful. In their first conversation in days, he’d found himself lowering his voice and sliding into a little flirtatious innuendo.

  Stupid.

  Gathering his focus, he angled his body to face his sister more fully and gave her his complete attention. “Okay. Let’s start over. Tell me what’s going on with the wedding.”

  She launched into a rundown of what had been done about it while he’d been out of town, what needed to be done very soon, what she feared might never get done in the time remaining before she walked down the aisle.

  He smiled, listened, and reassured her when he could get a word in edgewise. Stella had been his responsibility for ten years, since he’d been twenty-two and she a slip of thing at twelve. After their parents died in a car crash, it had been up to him to raise her as well as keep together the computer-security business his father had started.

  Though he’d never resented either obligation, the fact was, Stella’s upcoming marriage would ease him in more ways than one. With her happiness secured and the business merger solidified, he could at last relax and enjoy a simplified life. A more free-and-easy future.

  His butler crossed the room behind the couch, once again snagging his attention. What was it about the damn woman?

  No doubt she was beautiful—there wasn’t a man on Earth that wouldn’t notice those lush curves, even camouflaged as they were by that prim and proper uniform. And her skin…so smooth, and a warm apricot color that went well with her glossy dark hair and remarkable, black-lashed brown eyes. The whole package—stunning, and even with twenty-seven straight hours of travel and the beginnings of a flu bug in his system, it had hit him right between the eyes the night they’d encountered each other at the airport.

  But Lucas had met many beautiful women over the years, and not one of them had managed to dig so deep into his head and stay there, even after he’d zombie-walked out on her at that hotel room.

  Maybe there was the trouble. He’d felt like shit about how the evening had ended—well, thanks to the flu, he’d been beginning to feel like shit as he followed her fine ass through the door of Room 1712—and when he’d recovered days later he’d remembered her name and had done a little digging himself.

  That had led him to the Continental Butler Academy and to the fact that she was looking for a position in Southern California. On a whim he couldn’t explain, he’d secured her number, telling the school’s placement agency he could use someone with her training and skills. Then he’d asked Stella to make the initial contact and to conduct a phone interview, hoping his sister would nix the idea because…shit, he’d just hoped his sister would find Emmaline objectionable in some way and save him from his own unwise impulse.

  Instead, Stella had been delighted by the other woman during their call and had badgered Lucas into meeting her in person himself.

  He should have known better…he always knew better! He was a focused, in-control, no-nonsense businessman, one who had built up his father’s modest business into a new-century, new-tech success story. Pretty faces and lovely breasts—okay, gorgeous faces and an impressive rack—didn’t distract him. But Stella had insisted and insisted that a butler was just what her busy brother needed.

  Still, his good sense had warned him it wasn’t the time to come face-to-face with the lush beauty again. With a wedding in the offing, a little sister to soothe through any bridezilla moments, a merger as part of that deal because Stella was marrying a VP of the other company who was also the son of its CEO, Lucas didn’t have time for a…for a…dalliance.

  Because it was a distinct possibility he’d want that way more than full-time household help.

  But Lucas hadn’t been able to stifle his curiosity. He’d gone to the damn interview for just that reason—to determine if she was half as incredible-looking as he’d thought in his flu-addled state. To decide if that magnetic pull he’d felt for her was anything more than an initial symptom of the ravening illness that had overtaken him hours later.

  They’d met on the patio of a Malibu coffee place, and he’d been poleaxed. Momentarily rendered speechless by her beauty and his instant reaction to it, he’d somehow given Emmaline the impression he didn’t remember their airport encounter and the mutual seduction he’d abruptly cut short that night.

  Much later, he’d realized the most direct cause of his sudden departure had been the three pills he’d tossed back in the missing-luggage line. Instead of pain relievers, he’d mistakenly downed over-the-counter sleeping tablets. On top of those was the mini-bar bottle of vodka he and Emmaline had shared, straight up, upon entering Room 1712. When she’d retreated to the bathroom, his head had taken three woozy spins, and he’d realized he was in sudden danger of going corpse at her feet. So, with his head and senses still reeling, he’d stumbled from the room and blearily found his way home.

  Did he explain that on the patio, when he’d had a moment to collect his wits? Did he tell her why he’d made that disappearing act?

  No. Because he’d recalled then too that she’d expressed concern to the airport counter clerk about how soon her luggage might be returned. She didn’t admit it would be a hardship to fork over the cash to replace even some of the missing items, but she didn’t have to confess to being hard-up for money. He’d read it in the tense set of her shoulders and the battered state of the backpack hanging from her narrow hand.

  So Lucas had been damn glad he’d paid from his own wallet when they’d collected the key card for the hotel room she’d reserved .

  And thinking of all that while sitting across from her, her slender fingers cupping a paper latte cup, her expression slightly anxious, he’d realized she needed a job much more than another go at a casual hook-up. Particularly with a man who wasn’t in the market for anything else.

  Ten seconds later, bowing to impulse once again, he’d hired the woman…putting her, as his employee, firmly into the “Don’t Touch, Don’t Flirt” category.

  “You’re still not listening,” his sister said now, poking at him with the toe of her shoe. “I’m going to talk to Emmaline instead.”

  Guilt pinched him again. “Ste—”

  “Hey, Emmaline,” Stella said, raising her voice. “I love that new manicurist you recommended.”

  The butler appeared from the direction of the bedrooms, a cloth in hand, smiling. “Oh, I’m so glad.”

  She glowed, Lucas thought. Light came from inside her when she was pleased.

  “I hoped that would work out for you,” she continued, still beaming.

  Light came from inside her when she pleased other people, he amended.

  “I’ve set up a standing weekly appointment and a special one for the day before the wedding,” Stella said. At that last word, she began to tw
ist her engagement ring around and around on her finger. “How did you find her?”

  “The credit goes to my friend Charlie—Charlotte—who has been settled in Malibu longer than I have. She has list upon list of quality service providers of all kinds.”

  “She’s one of your two friends from the butler academy who work nearby, right?”

  “Right. Charlie works for Ethan Archer and his son, Wells. My pal Sara works for Joaquin Weatherford—well, worked for. They’re now engaged.”

  Stella continued twisting her ring. “That’s nice…and nice that you could find work near each other.”

  “It’s why I came. They’re like family.”

  “You wouldn’t rather still be in Europe?”

  The butler gave a slight shrug. “I traveled around there for years, working as a nanny or au pair and teaching some English.”

  “All on your own?” Stella eyes widened. “That was so brave of you.”

  Lucas glanced at his sister, thinking Emmaline would have been younger than Stella was right then when she’d taken off overseas on her own. Yes, brave. Stella hadn’t exercised her own independence beyond moving from this house to a town home with a girlfriend.

  “Oh, I’m a free spirit,” Emmaline said in a breezy tone, with another of her smiles that this time didn’t seem near as bright. “I’ve never needed roots to bloom.”

  Never needed roots to bloom? Lucas narrowed his gaze. Somehow that didn’t ring true to him. A woman who wanted to live a nomadic life would train to be a trapeze artist in a traveling troupe, not a caretaker of hearth and home.

  As if Emmaline felt him studying her, she threw him a quick glance. Their gazes clashed for a moment, then held.

  God. There it was all over again. The click of connection, followed by that hot current running between them. It had been the same that night at the airport. He’d turned from the luggage counter to see her lingering nearby, as if hoping her suitcases would make a miraculous appearance. Their eyes had met.

  And it was the damnedest thing, but he’d walked toward her like he was hand-over-handing a line that was wrapped around her delectable body. She’d been still, as if truly bound by that imaginary rope, and clearly apprehensive. But when he came to stand a foot away, she’d tilted her chin even as a flush broke over her beautiful face.

  At that little sign of challenge, he’d reached out to wrap an errant lock of her hair around his index finger. Instead of moving away or protesting or both, she’d merely swiped her puffy bottom lip with her tongue.

  He’d swallowed his groan. “Can I take you somewhere, buy you a drink?” he’d asked, his voice husky.

  “Um.” A small tremor had shaken her frame. “I have an idea of where we can go.”

  “…okay, Lucas?”

  Stella again. Once more, he’d forgotten all about her. Snapping his gaze to her face and noting the expectant expression there, he tried recalling what she’d been saying. Total blank. “Excuse me?”

  She rolled her eyes, just like the teenager it seemed she’d been just a day before. “You aren’t paying attention.”

  “Yeah.” He glanced at Emmaline, glanced back. “Repeat, please, Stella.”

  “I reminded you about that charity event you promised to attend with me tomorrow night.”

  He drew another complete blank. “Uh…”

  Stella sighed extravagantly. “Posies and Ponies?”

  “What?” He frowned at her. “That doesn’t sound like something I’d agree to.”

  Which produced another eye roll. “It’s for an excellent program that brings together autistic kids and horses. The theme for this year’s dinner dance is Posies and Ponies.”

  The program itself rang a bell. “Okay, the horses and kids thing sounds like something I’d agree to. But posies?” Lucas grumbled. “Geez, Stella. Will my balls shrivel and fall off if I attend?”

  “Don’t be crude,” his sister said, scowling at him. “Just get yourself into a dinner jacket and bring a beautiful corsage for your date.”

  “Wait.” He didn’t know why he flicked a glance toward Emmaline. “When did I get a date?”

  “When we ended up with an extra ticket for Aaron’s cousin, Valerie. You’ll like her.”

  “Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.” Now it was Lucas’s turn to scowl. “I don’t do set-ups.”

  “It’s Aaron’s cousin. Since he’s my fiancé, she’s practically your family.”

  Without forethought, he looked at Emmaline again, sending out an SOS. She was his butler. Wasn’t it part of her duties to get him out of shit like this?

  The corners of Emmaline’s luscious lips lifted as she shifted her attention to his sister. “I can take care of ordering the necessary flowers.”

  It was apparent Emmaline hadn’t received his alarm signal, damn it.

  “And may I make a suggestion?” the woman continued. “Your group could start off your evening with pre-dinner drinks at Top Shelf.”

  Stella sighed. “Great idea, but it’s the hottest place in town, and nobody can get seats there, even in the bar.”

  “Well…,” Emmaline said, “it’s possible I can.”

  With a delighted gasp, Stella clasped her hands under her chin. “Really?”

  “Really.” Emmaline grinned, that high-wattage, gratified kind. “We butlers have our ways.”

  She wouldn’t have any “ways” after he wrung her neck, Lucas thought, trying to ignore what the “I’m-happy-to-make-you-happy” display did to him. Because that bright smile of hers brought to life a wolf that now seemed to be living beneath his skin. He wanted to howl. Pounce. Drag her away for his private consumption. But he didn’t voice any further protest because Stella was already far into a new round of glad-chatter, and he didn’t have it in him to smother his little sister’s upbeat mood.

  Not after that weird ring-spinning she’d been doing earlier.

  So shit, crap, damn, he was going on a blind date.

  “It’s going to be wonderful,” Stella gushed at Emmaline now. “Right?”

  “Of course,” Lucas’s butler said. “I’ll make sure you all have a perfect night.” This time her blinding smile included him too.

  He didn’t return it, working hard to keep his growls and snarls to himself. But still, he wondered what she might do if he told her his own idea of a “perfect night” had been playing out in his fantasies since the moment they’d met.

  And included a very bare and blushing Emmaline Rossi in his bed.

  Chapter 2

  In the late afternoon the next day, Emmaline headed to her quarters on the first floor of Lucas’s beachfront house. It had its own entrance at the side of the residence but could be reached through the laundry room as well. Going through that door, she walked into a sitting area that opened into a generous-sized bedroom with a large bathroom attached. There was even a mini-kitchen in one corner of the main space.

  The house was obviously designed for full-time, live-in help, and she smiled at her surroundings as she stripped out of her uniform and changed into a pair of comfy black yoga pants and a slouchy top in pale green. She left her feet bare, the rug covering the hardwood floors enough to keep her toes warm.

  She’d had a recent pedicure—not at the elegant nail salon she’d recommended to Stella—but at a perfectly nice place that took walk-ins. Her choice of color, an opalescent pale blue-green the same shade as when the sun struck the shallow waters of a low tide.

  Pulling the band from the end of her braid, she fingered out her hair so the waves fell to her shoulders. Then she poured herself an ice tea and took up her phone, calling one of her friends from the butler academy, Sara.

  When the other woman picked up with a cheerful greeting, Emmaline lowered to a nearby cushioned chair and spoke in a quiet tone. “He’s back.”

  “Just now?”

  “No, yesterday. I didn’t want to bother you because I knew you and Joaquin had a date night planned.”

  “It wouldn’t have been any bother,”
Sara said. “Is it going okay?”

  “I suppose so.” He’d been away on business more than half the time of Emmaline’s employment, so they’d yet to fall into an ordinary routine. She was still learning the tasks he required of her, not to mention those she would take on under her own initiative. It was an essential part of her role as his employee, according to what she’d learned at the Continental Butler Academy. An exemplary butler—or house manager, as some were called—found ways to make their employer’s life and household run smoother, without the constant need for direct instruction.

  “Any further illumination on the wife thing?”

  Emmaline’s cheeks began to heat. “It’s just something his sister Stella keeps on about. She tells me her brother works too hard and he needs someone to make sure he has time for leisure too. And as a matter of fact, he’s got a date tonight to a fundraiser. Thanks to Charlie’s contacts, I managed to get his group a table at the latest hot spot for drinks before the event.”

  Her instructors at the academy would fully approve—not just of obtaining the reservation, but that she’d been keeping up with local goings-on, from political and business news to society gossip to what new restaurants and entertainments were opening in the vicinity. She’d also be making and keeping her own list of convenient contacts. This time it had been Charlie’s guy—the one who headed up the valet parking at Top Shelf—that Emmaline had called. Once he received the custom brass collar stays engraved with his initials that she’d ordered—after learning he was quite the snazzy dresser—she figured he’d be her guy too.

  “Hmm,” Sara said, her voice non-committal. “Night out for the boss. Any mention of your night with him that wasn’t when you landed at LAX?”

  “No, no,” Emmaline said hastily, and waved her free hand even though her friend couldn’t see it. “That’s forgotten on my part and still apparently never remembered on his.”

  “Hmm,” Sara said again.

  “Really,” Emmaline insisted. “And anyway, the focus is the present, in which he has a social event scheduled—a date. My only interest in that is in the strictest professional sense, by the way.”