The Millionaire Affair (Love in the Balance)

by Jessica Lemmon

  “Okay, her friend is hot, I’ll give you that,” Aiden piped up.

  Shane blinked before snapping his eyes to the brunette’s left. Her “hot friend,” as Aiden so eloquently put it, showcased her assets in a scandalously short skirt and backless silver top. He’d admit she was hard to miss. Yet Shane hadn’t noticed her until Aiden pointed her out. His eyes trailed back to the brunette.

  “Okay,” Aiden said on a sigh of resignation. “Because I so desperately want to see this, I’m going to take a bullet for you. I’ll distract the crier. You hit on the blonde.” That said, he stood up and headed toward the bar… to flirt with the wrong girl.

  The platitude of only having one chance to make a first impression flitted through Shane’s head. He called Aiden’s name, but his shout was lost under the music blasting at near-ear-bleeding decibels. Aiden may be younger and less experienced, but he also had an undeniable charm girls didn’t often turn down. If the brunette spotted his cousin first, she wouldn’t so much as look at Shane. He abandoned his beer, doing a neat jog across the room and reaching Aiden just as he was moving in to tap the brunette’s shoulder.

  “My cousin thought he recognized you,” Shane blurted to the blonde, grabbing Aiden by the arm and spinning him in her direction.

  The blonde surveyed Aiden with lazy disinterest. “I don’t think so.”

  Aiden lifted his eyebrows to ask, What the hell are you doing?

  Rather than explain, Shane clapped both palms on Aiden’s shoulders and shoved him closer to the blonde. “His sister’s in the art business.” It was a terrible segue if the expression on Aiden’s face was anything to go by, but it was the first thing that popped into Shane’s head.

  The music changed abruptly, slowing into a rhythmic techno-pop remix that had dancers slowing down and pairing up. Aiden slipped into an easy, confident smile. “Wanna dance?” he asked the blonde.

  The moment the question was out of his mouth, the scratches and hissing of snare drums shifted into the melodic chimes of the tired and all-too-familiar line dance, “The Electric Slide.”

  Aiden winced.

  Shane coughed to cover a laugh. “He’s a great dancer,” he said to the blonde.

  Aiden shot his elbow into Shane’s ribs but recovered his smile a second later. Turning to the blonde, he said, “He’s right, I am,” then offered his hand.

  The blonde glanced at his palm, then leaned past Shane to talk to her friend. “You gonna be okay here?” she called over the music.

  The brunette flicked a look from her friend to Shane. The moment he locked on to her bright blue eyes, his heart galloped to life, picking up speed as if running for an invisible finish line. Her eyes left his as she addressed her friend. “Fine.”

  It wasn’t the most wholehearted endorsement, but at least she’d agreed to stay.

  Aiden and the blonde made their way to the dance floor, and Shane gave his collar a sharp tug and straightened his suit jacket before turning toward the brunette. She examined him, almost warily, her lids heavy over earnest blue eyes. He’d seen that kind of soul-rendering sadness before, a long time ago. Staring back at him from his bathroom mirror.

  “That was my cousin, Aiden.” He bumbled to fill the dead air between them. “He wanted to meet your friend.”

  “Figures,” the brunette said, barely audible over the music.

  He ignored the whistling sound of their conversation plummeting to its imminent death. “She seems nice. Aiden can be kind of an ass around nice girls,” he added, leaning in so she could hear him.

  She rewarded him with a tentative upward curve of her lips, the top capping a plumper bottom lip that looked good enough to eat. He offered a small smile of his own, perplexed by the direction of his thoughts. When was the last time he’d been thrown this off-kilter by a woman? Let alone one he’d just met? She shifted in her seat to face him, and a warm scent lifted off her skin—vanilla and nutmeg, if he wasn’t mistaken. He gripped the back of the chair in front of him and swallowed instinctively. Damn. She smelled good enough to eat.

  She dipped her head, fiddled with the strap of her handbag, and Shane realized he was staring.

  “Shane,” he said, offering his hand.

  She looked at it a beat before taking it. “Crickitt.”

  “Like the bug?” He flinched. Smooth.

  “Thanks for that.” She offered a mordant smile.

  Evidently he was rustier at this than he’d thought. “Sorry.” Best get to the point. “Is there something you need? Something I can get you?”

  Her eyes went to the full drink in front of her. “I’ve had plenty, but thanks. Anyway, I’m about to leave.”

  “I’m on my way out. Can I drop you somewhere?”

  She eyed him cautiously.

  Okay. Perhaps offering her a ride was a bit forward and, from her perspective, dangerous.

  “No, thank you,” she said, turning her body away from his as she reached for her drink.

  Great. He was creepy club guy.

  He leaned on the bar between the blonde’s abandoned chair and Crickitt. Lowering his voice, he said, “I think I’m doing this all wrong. To tell the truth, I saw you crying and I wondered if I could do anything to help. I’d… like to help. If you’ll let me.”

  She turned to him, her eyes softening into what might have been gratitude, before a harder glint returned. Tossing her head, she met his eye. “Help? Sure. Know anyone who’d like to hire a previously self-employed person for a position for which she has little to no experience?”

  He had to smile at her pluck… and his good fortune. Crickitt’s problem may be one he could help with after all. “Depends,” he answered, watching her eyebrows give the slightest lift. He leaned an elbow on the bar. “In what salary range?”

  * * *

  Crickitt scanned the well-dressed man in front of her. He wore a streamlined charcoal suit and crisp, white dress shirt. No tie, but she’d bet one had been looped around his neck earlier. She allowed her gaze to trickle to his open collar, lingering over the column of his tanned neck before averting her eyes. What would he say if she blurted out the figure dancing around her head?

  Two hundred fifty thousand a year? Oh, sure, I know lots of people who pay out six figures for a new hire.

  Well, he asked.

  “Six figures,” she said.

  He laughed.

  That’s what she thought. If this Shane guy were in a position to offer that kind of income, would he really be in a club named Lace and hitting on a girl like her? Why hadn’t he hit on someone else? Someone without a runny nose and red-rimmed eyes. Someone like Sadie. But he’d rerouted his friend to talk to Sadie. Why had he done that? She smoothed her hair, considering.

  Maybe you’re an easy target.

  He saw her crying and wanted to help? It wasn’t the worst pickup line in the world, but it was close.

  Crickitt instinctively slid her pinky against her ring finger to straighten her wedding band but only felt the rub of skin on skin. For nine years it had sat at home on her left hand. She used to think of it as a comforting weight, but since Ronald had left, it’d become a reminder of the now obvious warning signs she’d overlooked. The way he’d pulled away from her both physically and emotionally. The humiliation of scurrying after him, attempting to win his affections even after it was too late. She lifted her shoulders under her ears, wishing she could hide from the recurring memory, the embarrassment. Fresh tears burned the backs of her eyes before she remembered she had a captive audience. She squeezed her eyes closed, willing the helter-skelter emotions to go away.

  When she opened them, she saw Shane had backed away some, either to give the semblance of privacy or because he feared she would burst into tears and blow her nose on his expensive jacket. She could choke Sadie for bringing her out tonight.

  Come to the club, Sadie had said. It’ll get your mind off of things, she’d insisted. But it hadn’t. Even when faced with a very good-looking, potentially helpful man, she
was wallowing in self-doubt and recrimination. She could’ve done that at home.

  “What experience do you have, Crickitt?” Shane asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  She tipped her chin up at him. Was he serious? His half smile was either sarcastic or genuinely curious. Hard to tell. The temptation was there to dismiss him as just another jerk in a club, but she couldn’t. There was an undeniable warmth in his dark eyes, a certain kindness in the way he leaned toward her when he talked, like he didn’t want to intimidate her.

  Maybe that’s why she told him the truth.

  “I’m great with people,” she answered.

  “And scheduling?”

  She considered telling him about the twenty in-home shows she’d held each and every month for the last seven years, but wasn’t sure he wouldn’t get the wrong idea about exactly what kind of in-home shows she’d be referring to. “Absolutely.”

  “Prioritizing?”

  Crickitt almost laughed. Prioritizing was a necessity in her business. She’d been responsible for mentoring and training others, as well as maintaining her personal sales and team. It’d taken her a while to master the art of putting her personal business first, but she’d done it. If she focused too much on others, her numbers soon started circling the drain, and that wasn’t good for any of them.

  “Definitely,” she answered, pausing to consider the fire burning in her belly. How long had it been since she’d talked about her career with confidence? Too long, she realized. By now, her ex-husband would have cut her off midsentence to change the subject.

  But Shane’s posture was open, receptive, and he faced her, his eyebrows raised as if anticipating what she might say next. So she continued. “I, um, I was responsible for a team of twenty-five salespeople while overseeing ten managers with teams of their own,” she finished.

  She almost cringed at the calloused description. Those teams and managers were more like family than co-workers. They’d slap her silly if they ever heard her referring to them with corporate lingo. But if she had to guess, Shane was a corporate man and Crickitt doubted he’d know the first thing about direct sales.

  “You sound overqualified,” he said.

  “That’s what I… wait, did you just say overqualified?” Crickitt stammered. She blinked up at him, shocked. She’d fully expected him to tell her to peddle her questionable work background elsewhere.

  Shane reached into his pocket and offered a business card between two outstretched fingers. “Even so, I’d like to talk to you in more detail. Are you available for an interview on Monday?”

  Crickitt stared at the card like it was a trick buzzer.

  “I’m serious.” He dropped the card on the bar. “This isn’t typically how I find employees, but”—he shrugged—“I need a personal assistant. And someone with your background and experience is hard to come by.”

  She blinked at him again. This had to be some elaborate scheme to get her to bed, right? Isn’t that what Sadie told her to expect from the men in these places?

  “How about one o’clock, Monday afternoon? I have meetings in the morning, but I should be done by then. If the job’s not a good fit, at least you looked into it.”

  Well. The only interview she’d managed to arrange since her self-inflicted unemployment was for a thirty-thousand-dollar salary and involved her working in a government office. And she’d lost that job to a kid ten years her junior. She’d be stupid to pass up the opportunity for an interview with this man. Even though part of her couldn’t imagine working for someone as put together as Shane. But he didn’t seem demanding, or overly confident, just… nice.

  Which brought about another niggling thought. This was too easy. And if she’d learned a lesson from recent events, wasn’t it to be cautious when things were going suspiciously well? And this, she thought, glancing in his direction again, was going a little too well.

  “What do you say?” he asked.

  Then again, as her dwindling savings account constantly reminded her, she needed to find some sort of viable income. And soon. If the interview turned out to be a sham, the experience would still be worthwhile, she thought with knee-jerk optimism.

  “One o’clock,” she heard herself say.

  Shane extended his hand and she shook it, ignoring how seamlessly her palm fit against his and the warmth radiating up her arm even after he’d pulled away. He excused himself and made his way to the door. Crickitt watched his every long-legged step, musing how he was taller than Ronald and walked with infinitely more confidence.

  A tall, confident man had approached her. And, okay, it may have been because she looked needy, but she couldn’t keep from being flattered that Shane had taken it upon himself to talk to her.

  Lifting the business card between her thumb and fingers, she studied the front. The top read, AUGUST INDUSTRIES, LEADER IN BUSINESS STRATEGIES. No name on the card, just an address and a phone number. She flipped it over. Blank.

  Sadie returned as Crickitt hopped off her bar stool.

  “Where’re you going?” Sadie asked with a breathless smile. Shane’s cousin stood at Sadie’s side, a matching grin on his tanned face. Crickitt regarded his surfer-dude style skeptically. Cute. A departure from Sadie’s usual type, but cute.

  Of course, there was a good chance Sadie would never see Aiden again given her first-date-only rule. Crickitt looked down at the business card again, chewing her lip. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to see Shane again, either. She already felt as if she’d revealed too much about herself in their short conversation. Wasn’t it too soon for her to trust a man after the one she’d trusted implicitly had left her behind?

  “What’s with the card? Did you get a date?” Sadie asked.

  “No.” She laughed, her temporarily reclaimed confidence ebbing. She considered crumpling the card in her hand, dropping it onto the bar. The message would get back to Shane via his cousin, she was sure. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about standing him up or canceling the interview.

  Chicken.

  Despite the very tempting option to stay in her comfort zone, Crickitt decided maybe it was time to take a risk. Even a small one.

  “Better,” she told Sadie, snapping up her purse. “A job.”

  Sadie Howard never dates a guy more than once—but fate has other plans for her when it comes to Aiden Downey, the one who got away…

  Please turn this page for an excerpt from book 2 in the Love in the Balance series,

  Hard to Handle.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Aiden Downey spun his beer by its neck, the now warm contents sloshing against the sides of the bottle. He’d been watching Sadie from his chair at the back of the reception tent for the better part of thirty minutes, unable to shake the guilt swamping him.

  Shane and Crickitt, God bless them, had been so careful when they asked Aiden and Sadie to be the only two members of the wedding party. But if there was one thing he and Sadie could agree on, it was doing right by their friends. They’d put aside their differences for the big day and had managed to be cordial, though not sociable, until the start of the reception.

  That’s when Aiden had bumbled his way through a long-overdue apology. While he’d never apologize for prioritizing his mother during her fight with cancer, he realized too late it was a mistake to allow his ex-wife back into his life. He meant well when he decided to keep the divorce quiet, but Aiden should have told his mother before she died. Now she’d never know the truth, never get to meet Sadie. A regret he’d have to live with.

  Sadie’s buoyant giggle, a fake one if Aiden had to guess, lifted onto the air. He turned to see her toss her head back, blonde curls cascading down her bare back as she gripped Crickitt’s younger brother’s arm. Garrett, who had been Krazy-Glued to Sadie’s side the entire reception, grinned down at her, clearly smitten. Aiden dragged his gaze from her mane of soft golden waves to her dress, a pink confection hugging her every amazing, petite curve. He couldn’t blame the kid for staring at her intently. Sadie wa
s beautiful.

  “Rough,” he heard Shane say as he pulled out the chair next to him and sat, beer bottle in hand.

  His cousin looked relaxed with his white tuxedo shirt unbuttoned and the sleeves cuffed at the elbows. He’d taken off the tie he’d worn earlier, a sight that almost made Aiden laugh. Before Shane met Crickitt, Aiden would’ve bet Shane slept wearing a tie. Crickitt had vanquished Shane’s inner workaholic and in return, Shane had stepped up to become the man Crickitt needed.

  Aiden had had a similar opportunity with Sadie. It was a test he’d failed spectacularly. “She has a right to be mad,” he said, tilting his beer bottle again.

  “You were in a difficult situation,” Shane said magnanimously.

  Maybe so, but after his mother succumbed to the cancer riddling her body, after he’d grieved and moaned and helped his father plan the funeral, Aiden had seen things more clearly. Remembering the way he’d shut Sadie out of his life, rejected her in the worst possible way, stung like alcohol to a fresh cut. He should have brought her in, no matter how bad the circumstances. His mother would have accepted her.

  His mother would have loved her.

  “If I could go back, I’d tell Mom the truth.” He swallowed thickly. “She deserved the truth.”

  “Don’t do that, man.” Shane clapped him on the shoulder. “You did what you believed was best. It was never going to be an easy situation.”

  True, but he’d taken an already hard situation and complicated the hell out of it. At his mother’s diagnosis, Aiden went into Responsibility Mode. With his sister in Tennessee, a brother in Chicago, his other brother in Columbus, and his father simultaneously grieving and working, everything had fallen on Aiden.

  When his mother said she wanted to move to Oregon to seek alternative treatments, Aiden rearranged his entire life and helped her do just that. Later, his siblings had argued with him that they would have helped if they’d known about any of it. Aiden had known in his gut there wasn’t enough time to pull everyone together for a powwow.