The Millionaire's Misbehaving Mistress

by Kimberly Lang

  Gwen felt her jaw drop. “What?”

  “Don’t get uptight. I’d like to carry on this conversation without interruption, and the only place I can see to do that is on the damn dance floor.”

  She sputtered, but managed to put one foot in front of the other until Will found an empty space on the dance floor and pulled her into his arms.

  Her stomach clenched and her whole body ached from the sensation of being close to him. His tux made him look even more breathtakingly handsome than usual, emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders and the lean-muscled length of his body. Gwen inhaled the scent of his aftershave with each breath, and the hand she placed on his shoulder itched to caress the warm skin only inches away. It was torture and her heart was taking the brunt of it.

  If Will noticed, he didn’t say anything, and he certainly didn’t seem to have a similar response to her. He kept the proper distance between them and continued their earlier conversation.

  “So this was Evie’s idea.”

  “Of course. Why else would I be here?” Gwen glanced around. So far, no one seemed overly interested in their appearance on the dance floor, but again, based on their prior business dealings, it shouldn’t draw undue attention.

  She hoped.

  Will moved easily to the music. “Evie I can understand. She’s been your most vocal defender.”

  Gwen stiffened. “I haven’t done anything that needs defending.”

  He continued as if she hadn’t said a word. “Bringing you here is Evie’s thinly veiled attempt at forcing a reconciliation.”

  “Do you think I—”

  “I’d hate to even try to guess how your mind works, Gwen.” He sneered.

  “That’s uncalled for.” Enough. Her feet froze. She wasn’t going to fight with him on the dance floor in front of hundreds of people.

  Will’s hand tightened on her waist. “Keep dancing. You wouldn’t want to make a scene, would you?”

  She was fuming, but he was right in knowing she wouldn’t intentionally make a scene. She forced her feet to move. The song couldn’t last more than a couple of minutes longer, and then she’d be able to leave without drawing undue attention.

  “So, do you deny that you only took the job in order to drum up additional business?”

  At least that was an easy enough question. “It’s called good business sense, Will. Every business owner hopes the current contract will lead to future ones. Surely you understand that.”

  He shrugged. “Usually those contracts will be in the same general field. You decided to use my sister to infiltrate HarCorp. I checked with HR, Gwen. They had a file of your proposals.”

  “I’m not denying I lobbied HarCorp in the past.”

  “I just offered you the chance to do it in person.”

  “Which I never did! I agreed to work with Evie and that’s exactly what I did. You came to me with the consulting job.”

  “Which was just what you wanted.”

  “Of course I did. It was the kind of opportunity I’d been waiting for for years.” Will’s jaw tightened. “Let me repeat—I lobbied HarCorp. I never once lobbied you.”

  “You didn’t have to. You just crawled into my bed for the job.”

  She gasped and her fingers itched to slap him for that gross insult.

  “You are a first-class bastard.” She caught herself hissing and plastered a smile back across her face for the benefit of their audience. “You’re not the only one who can separate business and pleasure, you know. And, just to refresh your memory, you crawled into my bed.”

  “You never answered my initial question, Gwen.”

  “Which was…?”

  “Did you take the job with Evie so you could weasel your way into HarCorp?”

  “Absolutely no—” She stopped, thinking back to that day in Will’s office. She had almost talked herself into taking the job simply for the possible “in” into HarCorp before she got the full story on Evie and made up her mind. But it had been such a brief moment, and she’d gotten attached to Evie so quickly…

  Will must have noticed her hesitation and decided it was a guilty conscience. She saw his eyes harden as he confirmed his suspicions based on her momentary lapse. She was doomed no matter what she said.

  “And where did sleeping with me fall in your business plan?”

  “If you remember correctly, I told you that would be a bad idea.”

  “Seemed to work out pretty well for you. Of course, you’ve had plenty of practice, haven’t you?”

  She sucked in her breath. Was he referring to David? The sarcastic tone answered her question. How did he know about that? Oh God, could this be any more horrible?

  “You almost pulled it off. If you hadn’t gotten cocky, you might have milked me for more.”

  She stopped dancing, well aware of the stares they attracted, but not caring any longer. All of her training and all of her studies failed her. None of the speeches or explanations she practiced over the week worked in the face of being called something only slightly better than an opportunistic whore.

  She’d been so used to Will looking at her with kindness and an endearing smile, the hardness that stared back at her all evening was breaking her heart. But when his face cracked into a mocking smirk, she wanted to scream.

  “You’re good, but you’re not that good.” With that, Will turned on his heel and left her standing alone on the dance floor, her mouth gaping in shock.

  Evie appeared in her line of vision, her eyes wide and her face pale. Horrified, Gwen looked around her. While some people tried to act nonchalant, like nothing had just happened, she could tell by the body language that every one of them had seen Will leave her standing there. And it didn’t take a crystal ball to see what would happen next. A woman in a red cocktail dress leaned to the woman on her right and whispered. Anyone who hadn’t witnessed Will’s act of rudeness would have a full reporting in no time.

  Hot-faced and humiliated, Gwen tried to hold her head up as she left the dance floor. She even tried a smile and a shrug as if to say, “oh, well.” It didn’t work. She could tell by the stares of shock and pity.

  The band, as if aware of the drama and sensing the need to change the subject quickly, launched into an upbeat swing piece. Gwen skirted the couples making their way on to the dance floor and looked for the nearest exit.

  Tish waylaid her departure. “Seems you do hold up your end of a bargain. You promised me something good for Monday’s column, and you certainly delivered,” she said with a smirk.

  That was the proverbial last straw. Every pithy and etiquette-approved remark escaped her. Nothing Tish could print at this point could be any more personally humiliating or professionally damning than the scene she’d just provided for everyone’s entertainment.

  “Bite me, Tish.”

  She didn’t take any time to appreciate Tish’s openmouthed shock, choosing instead to make her exit on that small high note.

  The doorman flagged a taxi, and Gwen barked her address at the driver. In no mood for small talk, she stared out the window and tried to calm her whirling thoughts.

  She never should have let Evie drag her to the Med Ball. In light of Will’s statement about Evie’s matchmaking, Gwen wondered if Evie’s earlier panic attack had been nothing more than part of a larger scheme.

  I never learn, do I? Tonight’s debacle just drove home how stupid she was. At least she wouldn’t have to wait long for the fallout. Tish would help spread the word to anyone who wasn’t at the Med Ball—and from the look on Tish’s face, Gwen was going to pay dearly for her comment in Monday’s column. By Monday afternoon her humiliation would be complete. And if her clients had been willing to drop her at the first whiff of a scandal two weeks ago, the fact she was on the outs with the Harrison family would have her blackballed by Tuesday afternoon at the latest.

  Tears burned behind her eyelids. She hoped she still had ice cream in the freezer.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  EVIE’S sil
ent treatment was total and absolute, and Will almost felt like he was living alone again. While she’d kept her game face on at the Med Ball, only shooting him a few dirty looks after Gwen left, she’d shut down completely in the limo on the way home. Comments, questions, attempts at normal conversation—everything was met with stony silence. Even eye contact was out. He’d never been so completely ignored in his entire life. She stomped to her room without looking back, and had only left it to eat for the rest of the weekend. Mrs. Gray had weekends off, so Will rattled around his apartment alone in the silence.

  And it was driving him insane.

  He worked in his office with the door open, just in case Evie decided to call a truce. While it gave him a chance to catch up on the paperwork he’d let slide the past couple of weeks, he derived little satisfaction from the work. It didn’t help that the majority of his time was spent working on his upcoming meeting, and that meeting made him think of Gwen.

  The sight of her at the Med Ball had nearly knocked him off his feet. He’d grown accustomed to a down-to-earth look for Gwen—battered, curve-hugging jeans or sundresses that flowed around her luscious legs. He’d even gotten used to those frumpy Miss Behavior suits she insisted on wearing. But Gwen as socialite, with her hair swept up to expose the long, lovely line of her neck and wearing a beaded blue cocktail dress that exposed just enough cleavage to remain classy yet still leave him salivating…that had set him back a pace, at least until the blood had started circulating freely again.

  He tried to block the image of Gwen from his mind and concentrate on the work they’d done for the meeting. He had to give her some credit, however begrudgingly; she was more than a pretty face and amazing body. She was certainly good at her job. Gwen’s notes on everything from the order of introductions to sketches showing where everyone should sit at the conference table were astoundingly thorough. Small notes written in the margins of his proposal outline in her precise handwriting showed she understood both the human and business aspects of successful meetings.

  When he got to the page where she gave suggestions about what color ties he and his VPs should wear, he had to laugh. No detail was too small for her attention, it seemed.

  He wondered if Gwen provided this level of service to everyone. If so, then her consultant’s fee was too small. Thinking back to previous meetings and events, Gwen’s expertise could have come in handy at HarCorp. Odd that HR never followed up on any of her proposals…

  I lobbied HarCorp. I never lobbied you.

  Gwen’s words echoed in his head. That much had been true.

  If he wanted to be honest with himself, he probably deserved Evie’s silent treatment. He treated Gwen with unbelievable rudeness Friday night. He remembered one of her lectures to Evie: “You don’t have to be friendly. You don’t have to be kind. But you do have to be polite. There’s no excuse for flat-out rudeness. I don’t care how angry you are.”

  He’d let his anger take the lead and look where it had led him. She’d hurt him and he’d wanted to return the feeling. She’d used him to further her own ambitions—or at least he’d thought so. In the late nights after she left, he’d had a chance to rethink the events of the previous days and weeks and wondered if he’d jumped to an inaccurate conclusion. But seeing her at the Med Ball caused his anger to flare up again. All he saw was another woman riding his name—or in this case, Evie’s feelings—for her own benefit. So he’d accosted her and blasted her with his worst suspicions.

  The look on Gwen’s face when he left her on the dance floor would stay with him for a long time. Whatever else she’d done, whatever her reasons were for working for him, she hadn’t slept with him for professional gain. No one could fake the look of shock and hurt he’d seen in her eyes.

  But if she was innocent of scheming and manipulations, then why hadn’t she defended herself? She’d never had a problem taking him to task before. But she’d left without so much as a word and hadn’t attempted contact since. Her silence should indicate she was guilty on all counts.

  But now that he’d calmed down, he realized he couldn’t have misjudged Gwen’s character that completely. He wasn’t a man easily fooled by anyone. His instincts had never been that wrong. He’d gotten his feelings hurt and jumped the gun in defense.

  Which meant he may have screwed up big this time and run off the first woman who’d ever gotten under his skin.

  In other words, he really was the butthead Evie accused him of being.

  “I hope you’re happy now, Will.” Evie’s first words since Friday evening blasted him as he came into the kitchen for his last cup of coffee before he left for work. She sat at the bar counter with a bowl of cereal in front of her and the newest edition of Dallas Lifestyles in her hand.

  She couldn’t have been more wrong. Happy wasn’t in his emotional repertoire at the moment. But something had finally broken Evie’s vow of silence—even if she was still angry.

  He refilled his mug. “Good morning to you as well. I’m glad to see you’re speaking to me again.”

  Evie snorted. “Hardly. I’m going to my tennis lesson.” She tossed the open issue of Lifestyles on the counter in front of him. “There. You should be pleased with yourself.”

  Evie huffed out of the room and he heard the front door slam behind her as she left for her lesson.

  He sipped at his coffee as he read the Society Column for the first time. As expected, the article covered the who-wore-what and the other basics of the Med Ball, but moved on very quickly to a far more interesting topic.

  I hate to say “I told you so,” but that doesn’t make it less true when it comes to the Miss Behavior/Will Harrison situation I’ve been following the last couple of weeks. Despite protestations to the contrary from all sides, I’ve been firm in my assertions that Gwen Sawyer and Will Harrison had something going on when she moved in to his penthouse. Things have certainly turned interesting, and current events shed new light on the older facts. First, news trickled in that Gwen moved out very suddenly early last week, and the “friendly” relationship between all parties cooled considerably. Certainly, the lack of sightings about town seemed to confirm that. Miss Behavior’s arrival at the Med Ball in the company of Evangeline Harrison might have thrown everything into question, but the Sawyer/Harrison showdown witnessed by yours truly and the other three hundred guests was nothing short of a lover’s spat. No one has come forward with an account of what was said, but one thing was perfectly clear when Will left Gwen standing alone on the dance floor: her services—whatever she was providing—are no longer necessary or welcome. It leaves one to wonder if Miss Behavior has lost her magic touch.

  He read on in disgust. Tish Cotter-Hulme was out for blood—mostly Gwen’s for some reason. While speculation about his side of the story was kept to a minimum, Gwen got dragged in the mud both personally and professionally.

  No wonder Evie had broken her vow of silence just to condemn him. If Gwen caught fallout from the earlier speculations and rumors, she was living on Ground Zero right now.

  The last paragraph caught his eye.

  Society-at-large finally got to meet the elusive Evangeline Harrison at the Med Ball, and she represented the Harrison family with style and class. Evie, as she is known to family and friends, is a breath of fresh air and a charming young lady. In an ice-blue silk…

  Not that he’d had any question about Evie’s success, but here it was in black and white for everyone to see. She should have been basking in the good press and enjoying her moment in the society column sun. Yet Evie hadn’t said a word about it. After the crucifixion of Gwen in the paragraphs before, he could see why.

  The morning traffic gave him even more time to think. The more he did, the nagging suspicion he’d not only judged Gwen harshly and unjustly but then compounded the issue by humiliating her in public intensified.

  He could cheerfully wring that gossip woman’s neck for her speculations. However true they were, it still wasn’t for her to make them public. Plus, th
e viciousness in her attacks against Gwen went beyond the simple desire to sell papers. Tish’s attacks were personal; Gwen had made an enemy of the woman somehow.

  Legally there wasn’t much he could do about it since gossip wasn’t a crime—no matter how malicious he thought it was—and he couldn’t go calling the paper without making the situation worse. But surely HarCorp’s legal team and advertising department could stir up enough trouble at the paper to make that woman think twice before dragging Gwen through the mud again. It would probably keep her away from Evie as well.

  The thought of turning his people loose on Tish Cotter-Hulme and her ilk gave him a great sense of satisfaction. That satisfaction sparked another realization in him he wasn’t quite ready to deal with yet.

  Gwen was more than just under his skin.

  “Just quit answering the phone, Gwennie.”

  If I did, would you quit calling, too? Gwen didn’t voice the frustration because she knew deep in her heart that Sarah only meant to help and console with her every-ten-minute phone calls. Didn’t Sarah have actual work to do today?

  But the headache pounding behind her eyes wasn’t Sarah’s fault, so Gwen tapped into her last reservoir of patience for her sister. “I can’t. Silence is perceived as a sign of guilt. If I’m going to salvage what’s left of my reputation and business, I have to have good explanations for Tish’s accusations.” Another message pinged into her in-box and Gwen sighed. “At least I can copy and paste the same thing over again in the e-mails.”

  To call the morning “hellish” would be an understatement. If she could keep reminding everyone how much Tish liked to blow the smallest of issues out of proportion and thereby make her “showdown” with Will seem like it was taken out of context simply for the dramatic effect, she just might make it through this with her career intact, if slightly battered. Thankfully many of her clients had been dragged through Tish’s mud pit at some point, and they were proving somewhat sympathetic to her plight. Some carefully worded comments and a light tone helped.