Secret Affair with the Millionaire (The Rochesters)

by Coleen Kwan

  Knowing her true identity, he studied her with fresh eyes. She wasn’t just the sexy babe he’d spotted on the balcony next to his, the witty woman he’d started bantering with and then invited into his hotel room; she was a member of the mega-rich Rochester family, an heiress to a billion-dollar fortune. Though she didn’t behave like the stereotypical pampered heiress, not the woman he’d met, she was still a Rochester.

  “What’s your role in the Rochester company?” he asked.

  Her eyebrows rose as if she were surprised by the question. “I’m part of the strategic planning team. We investigate future possibilities for the company and devise plans to meet our long term goals.”

  It sounded like something she’d learned from a manual. “You’re into all that corporate-speak?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s hard for me to reconcile what I’ve seen of you today with the woman I met in Lake Tahoe.”

  Her eyes flashed for a moment. “The woman you met in Lake Tahoe was just”—she flicked her hand—“an illusion.”

  “I disagree.” Resting his elbows on the table, he leaned toward her. “I met her again in the Gilberts’ conservatory earlier today.”

  Her breathing intensified, but she held his gaze. “That’s not going to happen again, buster.”

  Wanna bet? He stifled the impulse. Remember about cooling it, hombre?

  “What about you?” Holly asked, looking him up and down. “You’ve only recently joined the Schofield enterprise. What were you doing before that?”

  He wasn’t officially part of the family corporation, not yet, but everyone assumed it, so he let that slide.

  “I run my own business back in Austin. Motorcycle retail stores. I have ten stores across Texas and New Mexico and plans to expand. Plus I’m starting up a sideline in custom motorcycles.”

  Her eyes widened. “So you weren’t lying when you said you sold motorcycles. I just assumed you were an employee. I’m impressed. You did it all on your own, then? No help from the family?”

  “None.”

  Not a single dime. When he’d split from his dad, he’d left with everything he owned—a few clothes, his tools, and his motorbike. He’d ridden across the States, finally ending up in Austin, where he’d found a job as a mechanic. He’d worked his ass off to get where he was now. To his father he was little more than a glorified grease monkey, but that was fine by him. He might not be worth billions, but every cent he owned he’d earned fair and square.

  The waiter arrived with their coffees and an apologetic smile. “Just letting you know that we close in fifteen minutes, sorry.”

  Holly nodded at him. “No problem. We’ll be out of here soon.”

  Dane stirred his coffee in silence. So she’d chosen this place on purpose, knowing it would shut soon. Smart move, he had to admit.

  When the waiter had left, Holly said, “Sounds like your whole life is back in Texas. So you joining the family company might not be permanent.”

  Was she trying to psyche him out? Make him think there wasn’t much on the line?

  He shook his head. “I didn’t make this decision lightly. I’m here because I intend making a full contribution to Schofields.”

  “Duly noted, and just to be clear, I’m serious about the Gilbert Challenge too. I’m in it to win it.”

  They eyed each other across the table. His insides tingled. At the back of his mind he knew he’d come to this meeting hoping somehow that Holly would back out of the competition, which would leave him free to pursue her as hard as he liked. That wasn’t going to happen. But he wasn’t disappointed; Holly’s competitive sass just added to her spiciness.

  She drained her coffee and rose to her feet. “Okay, since we’ve got that clear, I have to leave.”

  Dane stood and pulled his wallet from his jeans pocket. “I’ll walk you home.”

  “It’s just one block. You don’t need to.”

  “I insist.” He deposited a few bills on the table, then walked her out of the coffee shop.

  Outside, traffic was light, and the sidewalk was largely deserted. The quiet, residential street was lined with big houses and upmarket apartment buildings.

  Holly slung her purse over her shoulder and set off at a brisk pace. Dane, utilizing his long legs, easily kept pace with her.

  “What’s the hurry?” he drawled. “Got a hot date?”

  She stumbled, and he shot out a hand to save her. “That’s none of your business.”

  He allowed his fingers to linger on the soft, smooth skin of her inner arm. “No boyfriend then? Or significant other?”

  “No.” She sounded short of breath.

  The silky warmth of her skin was doing crazy things to his senses. A subtle scent of vanilla drifted up from her hair, drawing him closer. She could easily pull away from him, but didn’t.

  A couple with their schnauzer approached them on the sidewalk. Dane shifted left toward Holly, wrapping his hand around her elbow. As the couple passed, she shivered against him but still didn’t jerk free like he half-expected.

  He couldn’t stand the torture anymore. He halted, and she half-turned toward him. In the dim streetlight her silver hair and creamy skin glowed like luminescence, making her eyes seem even bluer. Her slender frame vibrated with compressed energy.

  He cupped her cheek. “Good.” His voice roughened. “I’m not good at sharing.”

  She blinked. “Sharing what?” she said tartly.

  As if she didn’t know.

  In answer, he lowered his head and crushed his mouth against hers. For a split second he wondered if he should’ve tried a gentler approach, but then she responded, her lips devouring his, her mouth wet and sensitive, her hand curling around his neck to draw him closer.

  Oh yeah… This was exactly what he needed. What they both needed, judging by the mad way she was kissing him back. He wrapped one arm around her slim waist and pulled her hard against his length while he used his free hand to explore the contours of her body. Thank god she’d swapped the corporate suit for skintight jeans and an off-the-shoulder top.

  Holly was sighing and moaning, exciting him even more. He slid his tongue between her lips, and the dance continued. He backed her up until she was up against a brick wall, then he leaned over her and ran his lips down her neck until he found the secret spot that turned her into putty.

  “Ah…” Her moan was liquid silver. She slipped her hands under his T-shirt and ran them up and down his chest, at the same time lifting a leg and wrapping it around his hips.

  Jesus, that felt so good. As her fingernails dug into his flesh, blood rushed to his groin. His cock was rock hard and pressing against his zipper. Raising her leg higher, he ran a palm up her inner thigh and rested it against the apex of her thighs.

  “Oh, god, Dane.” Her head lolled back.

  Mesmerized by the flushed wildness of her face, he massaged the heel of his palm against her mound. Her heat poured through the thin denim. The need to see her come was almost unbearable.

  A siren sounded up the road and quickly grew louder. Lights flashed as a fire truck zoomed past them.

  Holly pushed him away. Caught off balance, he staggered back, senses spinning. Goddamn fire truck. Their fire had just got started.

  Holly was panting hard, looking everywhere but him, her fingers busy neatening her hair and clothes.

  His whole body was throbbing, his wood now painfully stiff. He dragged in a deep breath. “This is becoming ridiculous. We should just get naked and work it off.”

  She gave a hoarse laugh. “Work it off? Like some excess calories you don’t want?”

  “What’s your solution, then?”

  “It’s simple. We ignore it.”

  “Oh yeah? Like we just did and earlier in the conservatory? Who are you trying to kid, Holly?”

  Folding her arms, she lifted her chin. “Is this some devious ploy to distract me from the Gilbert Challenge? Because it’s not going to work. I’m not that naïve.”


  He blinked at her. “There’s no trick here. Besides, I’m more worried your sexual frustrations will distract you from the challenge. I’m just offering my help.”

  Pink spots burned in her cheeks. “Oh, you’re too kind, but no thanks. Any sexual frustrations on my part I can take care of myself.” She flicked back her hair and adjusted her purse strap. “Goodnight, Dane.”

  He watched her walk away. “Get some rest this weekend,” he called after her, “because come Monday I won’t be so nice to you.”

  Her steps faltered for a moment, but she didn’t look back. A short while later, she entered a large, elegant, Beaux Art building, the doorman ushering her inside.

  When she’d disappeared, Dane turned around and walked back to his motorcycle. He shouldn’t have insisted on meeting Holly again because all it had done was leave him with an aching cock and more confusion. If she was so against him, why had she responded to his kiss so readily? Why didn’t she just push him away at the first chance she got? It wasn’t like he’d pressured her.

  A memory of his dad’s sneering words echoed through his head. Afraid she’ll wrap you round her little finger and run rings around you?

  Shit. Maybe that’s exactly what had just happened. Holly had led him on and yanked his chain to keep him on edge. To make him lose his concentration.

  He found himself scowling. Could she really be that scheming?

  He didn’t know. But what he did know was that he should be focusing on next week’s challenge instead of panting after her like a horny dog. If he wanted sex, he could easily get that anywhere. For all her sweet body and sassy tongue, Holly was his rival, and he had to keep that front and center. She wanted the Halifax Hotel just as much as he did, but there could only be one winner, and that was going to be him. For his sister, for himself, for the shaky bonds that held his family together, it had to be him.

  Chapter Four

  The ballroom of the Halifax Hotel had the atmosphere of a forgotten underwater cave. The atrium skyroof had been boarded up, allowing only a few spears of sunlight to fall into the cavernous space. Faded wallpaper peeled from the walls like giant strips of seaweed. Dust lay everywhere, dulling the few bits of furniture that lay scattered about. Large mirrors spotted with age threw back dim reflections of the neglect.

  Despite the gloom and grime, Holly couldn’t help being impressed by the expansive proportions, soaring ceiling, and elegant columns. As she gazed about her, she pictured her parents dancing on the polished wooden floor, her mom’s gown floating around her, her dad adoring her. If only her mom were still alive…

  “Magnificent, isn’t it?” someone murmured close by.

  She turned to find a man admiring the room. “Yes, it’s beautiful.”

  Smiling, he held out a hand. “I’m Chad Litchfield.”

  “Holly Rochester.” She shook his hand.

  “Yes, I saw you last Friday at the Gilberts.” He held her hand a fraction too long before releasing it. About thirty, in pressed jeans and expensive polo shirt, clean shaven, neat hair, Chad exuded a preppy handsomeness.

  “So, we’re rivals then?” she asked.

  “Friendly rivals, I hope.”

  She laughed. “Oh, sure. I’ll buy you a drink when I win.”

  “And I’ll buy you a drink before I win,” Chad said with a toothy grin.

  Cocky, she thought. But only as cocky as she was. “So, who do you represent?”

  “Naxos, a private investment company. We’re planning to convert the building into condos.”

  “Condos? You mean you won’t preserve it as a hotel?”

  Chad shook his head. “We’re not interested in hotels. We’ll buy it, restore it, and flog it. Should make a good profit.”

  “But what about this ballroom?”

  “Yeah, we’ll have to restore it. Historical significance and all that. It’ll make a nice members’ lounge or exhibition space.”

  No dancing, no band, no romance. Just boring condos. Oh, she couldn’t let her dad down.

  “Looks like the others are arriving.” Chad motioned his head toward the entrance.

  Several people were filing into the ballroom. First were the Gilberts with the journalist who’d been at the meeting last week, his camera slung over his neck. Behind them were two men, and bringing up the rear were Dane and a statuesque redhead, laughing and chatting together.

  Holly’s stomach clenched at the sight of Dane looking dangerously hot in grungy jeans and a chest-hugging, blue, Metallica T-shirt. He seemed to be enjoying the redhead’s company quite a lot. She didn’t blame him; the woman was tall and striking, with thick, long hair and a voluptuous figure.

  “That’s Simone Connaught,” Chad murmured in her ear. “She won Olympic silver in skiing while studying for an MBA at Harvard. Now she’s a vice president at Gecko Investments.”

  Great, successful at sports and business, and gorgeous to boot. No wonder Dane couldn’t tear himself away from her. Holly frowned. Was she actually jealous? No, dammit, of course not.

  At that moment Dane lifted his head and looked straight at her. Was it her imagination, or did his eyes grow a little brighter? A tingle snaked up her spine, a sure sign that her body was still intimately attuned to him. Was he remembering how she’d melted in his arms not once but twice last Friday? Did he know she’d spent the weekend at her grandmother’s place in Napa Valley with her cell phone turned off just to avoid any hint of temptation? He’d have a good laugh if he knew. Tilting her chin, she returned his stare. From now on he wouldn’t get the better of her.

  “Ah, it’s lovely to see everyone here so full of beans and raring to go.” Lizzie beamed as everyone gathered in the center of the dance floor. She gestured about her. “As you can see, the ballroom is sadly neglected, but hopefully it will inspire you all to do your best at our little challenge. Now, perhaps we should introduce ourselves first.”

  They took turns introducing themselves. The two men were from out of state, Hector from Florida, and Donald from New York. The journalist reintroduced himself as Pete Martell.

  “Try to ignore me,” he said. “I want to get as many candid shots as possible. The first story went out yesterday, and our readers are very intrigued by the challenge, so expect to see a lot of me.” As if to emphasize his words, he aimed his camera at Holly and Chad and fired off several shots.

  “Right, well, let’s get started!” Humbert Gilbert rubbed his hands, looking quite excited. “We’ll begin with a tour of the hotel. Follow me, please.”

  An hour later, they were back in the ballroom, their shoes a lot dustier. They had inspected the lobby, the restaurant, the bar, and the crammed kitchen quarters. They had ascended in the rickety lift to the top floor, where they examined the penthouse suites with their stunning views of the San Francisco skyline. Everywhere they went Holly noticed the sublime Art Deco features beneath the grime. This place was a sleeping beauty waiting to be revived. Even if she didn’t win she’d be glad to see it restored.

  By accident or design, the six competitors seemed to have paired off. Chad stuck to Holly’s side, Hector and Donald appeared to have a lot in common, while Simone seemed determined to monopolize Dane.

  As everyone trooped back into the ballroom, Holly stepped away from the others and leaned her hip against a grubby, broken sofa. Chad edged closer to her with a bland smile. Dane stood near the back wall, arms folded, his tight T-shirt making the most of his impressive biceps. Holly determinedly forced her gaze away and focused on the Gilberts.

  Humbert stepped forward. “Now that you’ve seen a little of our grande dame, I hope it’s inspired you for our first round of the challenge. Your task is to refurbish one of the guest suites in the Halifax Hotel. You’ll each be given a suite, and you will have a week from today to complete your assignment. No outside help whatsoever is allowed, and we’ll have observers and security guards patrolling the premises to make sure you stick to the rules. There’s a storeroom stocked with ladders, drop sheets, and
plenty of tools for everyone. And remember the waivers you all signed on Friday, so please be careful as we wouldn’t be held liable for injuries. Any questions?”

  “Do we have a budget?” Simone asked.

  “No. You can spend as much or as little as you want, but remember that Lizzie and I aren’t necessarily impressed by money, so be careful.”

  “Any restrictions on design?” Dane asked.

  “Naturally we don’t want any walls knocked down, but other than that the sky’s the limit. This is your chance to show us your creativity and flair.” Humbert spread his arms wide like a magician about to do his latest trick. “Dazzle us, amaze us, seduce us!”

  Holly fought down a chuckle. The Gilberts were truly original, and in their own way rather sweet and loveable.

  “I have personally chosen rooms for each of you.” Humbert scooped up a bunch of heavy keys and began distributing them. When he reached Holly, he pressed the final key into her hands. “Ah, yes, I chose the Vienna Suite for you. It was a favorite among our visiting opera singers. I look forward to seeing what you make of it, Miss Rochester.”

  Holly’s heart sank a little. What did she know about opera singers and Vienna? How was she going to dazzle the Gilberts, not to mention amaze and seduce them?

  With a theatrical flourish, Humbert pulled out a pocket watch and held up his hand for silence. “It is now ten o’clock on Monday morning. Lizzie and I will be inspecting your rooms at ten o’clock a week from now. Until then, a bientot and best of luck.”

  Holly almost expected him to make a bow, but instead he held out an arm to his sister, and the two septuagenarians sailed out of the ballroom, leaving the contestants with Pete, the journalist.

  “Looks like we’re all on the sixteenth floor,” Chad said.

  “Good.” Simone nodded. “That means we can keep an eye on each other and make sure no one cheats.”

  Holly lifted her eyebrows. “You think one of us might cheat?”