Marrying the Millionaire

by Sabrina Sims McAfee

  RICHMOND’S JAW MUSCLES FLICKERED. SITTING at the burnt brown refurbished desk inside his home office at his ranch style estate, he spied the time on his laptop. Eleven twenty-five. She’s late. Very. Late.

  Disapproving of his candidate’s tardiness, a low groan rattled at the base of his throat. Upset, he stared at the deer head tacked to the wall above the entrance of the doorway. The person he hired to care for his precious daughter Isabelle had to demonstrate loyalty and honesty, and she had to be caring. And on damn time. He wanted nothing but the best for his daughter, his pumpkin.

  Having run out of patience for this supposedly great candidate named Kayla Crawford to arrive, Richmond slammed a hard fist down on his desk. Right when he hefted his cell phone from the desk to call Sandy at the Nanny Staffing Agency to tell her to forget about him hiring Kayla, his doorbell rang.

  It’d be a cold day in hell before I hire this Kayla-late-ass-Crawford to take care of my Isabelle.

  He was so frustrated ‘til his teeth ached from clenching them so hard. He hated tardy people, and slackers.

  His estate manager, Chelsey, strolled inside his office wearing a navy blue shirt, a pair of tan slacks, and flat Sperry’s. Her short blonde hair stopped at her shoulders.

  “Richmond, your eleven o’clock interview has arrived. Should I show her in at this time?”

  Richmond gave his head a hard shake. “No.”

  Chelsey’s brows lifted. “Huh?”

  Frustration rattled his spirit. “I’m not going to interview her.”

  Chelsey’s light green eyes rounded. “What should I tell her?”

  “Nothing. I’ll tell this Kayla woman I’m not interviewing her myself.” I specifically told Sandy I hated when people showed up late for their jobs and interviews. Richmond scooted the chair back, stood, then crossed the room to Chelsey.

  Consideration shone in Chelsey’s pupils. “Are you sure you don’t want to listen to why she’s late first?”

  Richmond was so mad, he felt he could poof smoke from his ears. Just a few days ago, he had to fire his nanny for being late all the time. Now this Kayla woman was late and had the nerve to still show up for her interview. She was thirty minutes late at that. Not five minutes late. Or ten. Or fifteen. But thirty.

  “I’m positive, Chelsey. There’s no way I’m hiring someone who’s not even considerate enough to call and say why they’re running late. After the last nanny I hired, I have to be more cautious and more particular as to who I hire to take care of Isabelle. Sarah was a complete and utter disaster. Had no business caring for a child.”

  Richmond pivoted on his heels, then stalked down the narrow hallway of his home. Lord, help me. I sure do miss my sweet Salina. She should be here caring for our daughter, not some nanny, he thought, praying someday the private investigator he’d hired would capture his dead wife’s murderer.

  Richmond rounded the corner of the hallway and stalked into the living room to find the dirtiest looking interviewee he’d ever laid eyes on; however, although this Kayla didn’t present well, she sure as heck was mighty pretty. No, make that extremely beautiful. So beautiful, she’d almost knocked him off his feet when he’d first laid eyes on her. So what? Carefully thinking of how he was going to tell her to get lost, his eyes linked with hers, then lingered up and down her body.

  Black soot stained the high cheekbones of her brown, caramel, cute face. Trouble settled deeply into her dark brown, mesmerizing irises. Long brunette hair tangled wildly over her shoulders and down her back. Her ears were small and dainty. Her breasts ample, perky. Her nose, perfect.

  God, you look familiar. Where have I seen you before? As rough as you appear, lady, you’re still pretty. Naturally beautiful.

  Surprised Kayla had the nerve to show up at his house this late for an important interview, he extended his hand to her. “Richmond. Spaulding.”

  The gentle, yet unkempt looking woman linked her soft palm to his. “Kayla. Crawford.” Swallowing, she tightened her grip around his. “Mr. Spaulding.” She blinked, her long lashes shadowing her face. Releasing his hand, she cleared her throat. “I’m so sorry I’m late and showed up for the interview looking like this, but my son—”

  Excuses. Excuses. Richmond hoped his stare drilled into her as he stated, “There’s no need to apologize. Things happen. I’m sure you have a good reason for being tardy; however, I’ve decided not to interview you.” Many people had often found his bluntness a character flaw, but he didn’t give a damn. As far as he was concerned, it was better to know the truth and to know where a person was coming from.

  Kayla’s disappointed eyes sprouted wide. “Huh? But I, I’m sorry. My son—”

  Undeterred by her excuses, Richmond kept his lips in a straight line. “One of my greatest pet peeves is tardiness, Kayla.”

  Gazing up at him with those round squirrel eyes of hers, Kayla tilted her head. Ah, damn. She looked pitiful, but still, he couldn’t risk hiring her. After everything Isabelle had been through, she needed a lot of attention. Someone who understood loss, and hurt, and what it felt like to lose a mother.

  This woman probably has never lost a thing in her life. As cute as she is, she’s probably spoiled rotten.

  Kayla’s shoulders motioned up, then down as she took a deep breath. “Aren’t you going to at least hear me out?” she asked with a shrug.

  Why you’re late doesn’t matter. “No. I’m pressed for time.”

  “But I—”

  “Nothing you say will change my mind.” His brows dipped. This stubborn lady doesn’t like taking no for an answer, I see. “You should’ve called to say you were running late. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some important business I need to take care of.” Richmond rounded Kayla, then pulled open his front door. “Good day, Ms. Crawford. I wish you well with finding the right job to fit your personality.” He stepped to the side to let her by. Maybe the next time she has an interview, she’ll leave earlier. Allow enough time for bad things to happen.

  Kayla stood on the threshold, gazing up at him. Taut, a misty sheen shone in her brown, dejected eyes. Hell, he hoped this strained woman didn’t burst into tears right in front of him. He hated when women cried. The somber expression on her face made his heart twirl.

  I’d be a fool to hire you. Something in my mind tells me you’re all wrong for the job.

  Kayla shot him a twisted smile. “Thanks for the opportunity to come interview with you. Have a great day.” She sounded grim.

  “You, too.”

  After Kayla stepped outdoors onto the porch, Richmond shut the door behind her.

  Still trying to place where he’d seen Kayla’s face before, he entered his living room. Standing to the side of the wall next to the sofa placed beside a huge glass window, he drew back the sheers and secretly watched the pretty lady Kayla leave his home.

  With her back to him, Richmond’s eyes raked up and down Kayla’s lush backside. Dismounting the vertical steps of his steep porch, Kayla’s head hung between her sagging shoulders. Keeping her gaze toward the ground, she walked the long length of the driveway, making her way towards the road.

  I know I’ve seen you before. But where? When?

  Wracking his brain about where he’d seen her before, he kept his eyes trained on her perfectly proportioned backside. Small waist, her shapely, round butt made the thin fabric of her dress twitch. The long hair snarled down her back swayed in the bristling wind.

  When Kayla reached the end of his driveway, curving into a cul-de-sac, she rounded the gate and began walking along the brown fence situated in front of green, dense forestry. Did she walk here? he wondered, cracking his front door open.

  Footing past several acreages of empty land to her right, Kayla stopped walking when she came upon a red truck. She lifted her leg, kicked the bottom driver’s side door of the truck, then kicked the tire. She flung her arms up in the air, belatedly dropping her head on the hood.

  Dumbfounded, Richm
ond shoved his hand in his pocket, checking for his keys. Good, they were there. He flung open his front door, jogged down the porch stairs, and hopped in his ivory Range Rover with peanut butter leather seats. In a hurry to pick up Isabelle from her playdate with Sandella, and to find out what was wrong with Kayla’s truck, he backed the SUV out of the long driveway.

  Steering the Range Rover toward Kayla’s broken vehicle, he briefly wondered if he’d made a mistake by not hearing her out. By not giving her an opportunity to explain herself. Had he been a jerk?

  Clenching the steering wheel, Richmond slowed the truck once he reached Kayla. Apparently hearing the humming sounds emanating from the SUV’s engine, Kayla’s head slowly lifted from her hands as she stood slouched against the hood of the truck. Poor thing had a flat tire, he thought, suddenly feeling sorry for her.

  Guilt from not hearing her out threatened to build inside his heart. “Bad day, huh?”

  Nibbling her bottom lip, Kayla threaded her fingers through the hair on top of her head. She fixated her gaze on the trees beyond his truck and nodded. Refocusing her eyes back on his face, she folded her arms across her firm breasts as her face went grim.

  “To say I was having a bad day would be an understatement.” She sniffed. “My son, CJ, made me late for the interview. While I was taking a shower, he decided he wanted to go play in the tree house in the back yard. It took me forever to find him. When I finally did find him, I started running and fell in the grass. Got all dirty. Then I got a freaking flat tire,” she held up a finger, “which made me even later for my interview. Yes!” She threw her hands up in the air and stomped her foot. “Yes! I’m having a shitty ass day, Mr. Richmond Spaulding!” Frowning, she fisted her hips.

  My God. She’s been through pure hell this morning. “Hop in.”

  “Huh?”

  “I said, hop in. I’m on my way to pick up my daughter, and you look like you could use a relaxing ride to get rid of the tension you’re feeling.”

  Kayla shook her head. “Thanks, but I need to stay here and figure out how I’m going to get my tire fixed.”

  “I’ll change your tire when I return from picking up my daughter, Isabelle, from her playdate. Come on, get in.”

  Kayla gave a half-smile. “Really? You’ll really change my tire for me?”

  She thinks I’m a pompous jackass. Can’t blame her. “Yes, really.” The corner of Richmond’s lip hitched. “Now get in before you have me late picking up my daughter.”

  Kayla hastened to the passenger side of the car, flung open the door, and hopped in. Buckling her seat belt, her rich, brown irises twinkled against the sun streaming through the window. An unfamiliar swoop tugged at his heart. Suddenly, he felt like a complete jerk.

  Admiring Kayla’s striking beauty and unrelenting tenacity, Richmond gassed the SUV down Spaulding Drive, passing his resort-like equestrian to the left. Reaching the end of the long road named after his family, he halted when he reached the stop sign, then turned left. As he cruised down another long road, silence loomed inside the SUV.

  Where in the hell have I seen you before?

  Richmond brought the truck to a stop when he reached the traffic light at the end of the road. Across the street from the traffic light sat the Balfour Resort & Hotel, owned by one of his wealthy clients and good friend. Behind the tall, luxurious building, the glistening blue ocean stretched wide, edging along a pristine sandy beach.

  Waiting for the light to change, he pulled his gaze from the ocean, then transferred it to pretty Kayla. She looked tense.

  “I’m sorry you’re having a bad day,” he expressed, breaking the silence.

  Kayla’s eyes peered into his. Her sexy lips broke into a leisurely smile.

  Your brown, round squirrel eyes look familiar.

  “Thanks. I know you must think I’m a nutcase, especially considering this is your second time having to come to my rescue.”

  Second time? Huh?

  Holding her gaze, Richmond wracked his brain, trying to figure out what on God’s green Earth she meant by that comment.

  Kayla shook her head. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

  Her sensual voice stirred an emotion in him he couldn’t identify with.

  The light flashed green. Gripping the steering wheel, he pulled out onto Ocean Drive, making a left. “You look familiar, but I can’t place your face.” He stole a quick glance at Kayla, then looked back at the road.

  “I’m not surprised you don’t remember me, considering we met at the cemetery.” Glancing at him sideways, she placed her elbow up on the door of the car, then fisted her cheek. “The day of my grandfather’s funeral, I was too weak to walk. You jumped out of a limo, ran to my side, picked me up, and placed me in the back of a black Cadillac. Thanks for helping me…again.”

  Jesus Christ. A vivid image of him hefting a crying woman into his arms at the cemetery the day he buried his wife came crashing into Richmond’s mind. It’s her. Remembering that horrible, wet, raining day, the day he’d said goodbye to his loving wife, Salina, he shuddered inwardly. His mind steadily rewound back to that day.

  On that miserable, rainy day, while riding in the back seat of the limo with Isabelle, he’d spotted Kayla standing beneath a green tent, wearing a white dress. As she’d tried to walk across the mushy green grass, her shoulders had rocked violently and she’d stumbled.

  For a reason he never understood, he’d jumped out of the limo and rushed to her side. He’d hefted her in his arms, stalked across the cemetery, and eased her onto the back seat of a black Cadillac. Reliving the day as if it were yesterday, Richmond swallowed.

  Whoa. This is the woman I often wonder about.

  “I remember you, Kayla.”

  Richmond shifted his weight in his seat and stole a good glance at Kayla. Capturing the sensual glow swooning in her eyes, an ambivalent feeling spread through his bones. On that stormy day, Kayla had beckoned him to her, just as she’d done a few moments ago. What the hell? Their meeting twice like this made no sense. None whatsoever. Should he reconsider interviewing her? No. Hell no.

  Richmond steered the SUV up to the local neighborhood park. Right as he cut the engine, his cell buzzed. He slid the phone from the clip attached to his hip. “Hello?”

  “You got a moment?” private investigator Donald McQuade questioned.

  “I’m in the process of picking up Isabelle from her playdate. What’s up?”

  “Briefly,” Don cleared his throat, “I have some news regarding Salina’s death. If you have time, I need you to stop by my office later on this evening.”

  Richmond’s heart clenched. Gazing out the window, he spotted Isabelle at the top of the sliding board, about to slide down. His good friend’s wife, Sandella, stood at the foot of the sliding board with her daughter Logan by her side, waiting on Isabelle to do her thing. God, he loved his daughter Isabelle with all his heart and soul. Just as he had her mother, Salina.

  Don continued. “I think I may have a lead as to who killed Salina.”

  Trying to remain calm in front of Kayla as she sat looking out the window beside him, Richmond’s shoulders tensed. I’ve been praying for a lead involving Salina’s murder. “I’ll be there around six.”

  “See you later.” Don ended the call.

  What did Don find out?

  “I’ll be right back,” Richmond told Kayla, then shoved the door open. As he walked across the lawn of the playground and headed toward his pumpkin, his pulse pounded harshly at the base of his throat. Don has a lead in Salina’s murder investigation.

  “Daddy!” Isabelle ran up to her father, then hugged his left leg.

  Excited about seeing his baby girl, Richmond lifted her in his arms and held her to his chest. “Did you have fun with Mrs. Sandella and Logan?”

  Smiling, Isabelle put the tip of her finger in her mouth and nodded. “Yes, Daddy. Mrs. Sandy pushed me on the swing, and she slid down the sliding board with me and Logan. S
he let me feed the birdies, too, Daddy.”

  Holding one-year-old Logan on her hip, Sandella used her free hand to stroke Isabelle’s curly ponytail. “She had a blast, Richmond. Anytime you need help with Isabelle, please give me a call.”

  Richmond grinned at baby Logan. “Hi there, little one,” he spoke to Sandella’s daughter. “Again, thank you, Sandella. I’m sorry to have imposed on you at the last minute. Hopefully, I’ll find someone to help me care for Isabelle very soon.”

  Sandella shook her head. “Richmond, you didn’t impose on me. That’s one of the good things about being your own boss. You can leave work whenever you feel like it. Any good nanny prospects yet?”

  “No.”

  Sandella’s eyes traveled to Richmond’s truck. “Who’s the woman in the car?”

  The woman I helped at the cemetery. How ironic? “Oh her, she’s one of the candidates. She got a flat tire on her way to interview for the position, so I brought her here with me. I’m going to fix her tire when I get back home.”

  Sandella nodded, then tossed her hair behind her shoulder. “I see. She’s very pretty. Are you going to hire her?”

  Yes, she is pretty. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t think she’d make a good fit for Isabelle. But hey, thanks again for watching my baby girl for me. I know you have to get back to the bakery, so I won’t keep you. Tell Braylon I said hi.”

  Still holding Logan on her hip, Sandella gripped the handle of her daughter’s stroller. “I will. As soon as he gets some time off, I’m going to make a good home-cooked meal and invite you and Isabelle over for dinner. Feel free to bring a date if you’d like.”

  Richmond chuckled. “I’ll be coming to dinner by myself. My dating days are way behind me. I’ll never find another woman like Salina. They don’t exist.”

  Smiling, Sandella waved a fingered. “Never say never.”

  Richmond smiled in return. “Never.”

  Sandella and Richmond parted ways. As Richmond headed back toward the truck with Isabelle perched in his arms, his mind reverted back to the private investigator he’d hired to find Salina’s killer.

  Thank God Don has a lead on who killed my wife. I’m going to wring the bastard’s neck for murdering Salina when I lay eyes on him.