Under the Millionaire's Influence

by Catherine Mann

  Starr stiffened even as her arm automatically slid around Ma’s waist out of habit. Already she was falling back into old habits even though she’d told David not a half hour ago that she had a spine of steel. David. Why did all of her thoughts have to cycle back around to him?

  This wasn’t what she wanted at all. She wanted them out of sight. Actually, she wanted them gone before their con games and get-rich schemes caused trouble in town. Aside from the fact that she couldn’t condone their crimes, she also couldn’t bear these reminders of the gypsy child she’d been. A member of a traveler clan not worthy of David. How had the conversation shifted from having them out of sight to them poking their sticky fingers into her business?

  The metaphorical beer keg exploded and she didn’t have a clue how to stop the spewing mess of her emotions.

  Three

  S tanding in her parents’ RV doorway with stars glinting overhead at the end of one of those endless days, Starr passed the bags full of chicken wings and everything else she could think of to feed the gang supper. Hopefully this would keep them happily settled inside for the night.

  Her aunt Essie—Uncle Benny’s wife—shuffled off the Styrofoam boxes of food to the mini counter by the sink, pushing aside a Crock-Pot.

  “Come on in and join us,” Aunt Essie offered in that fake Bostonian accent she affected in an effort to claim she was a down-on-her-luck member of the Kennedy clan. She actually thought a few touch-football games on the lawn would convince people. “We would love the chance to hear all about your fancy new business.”

  “Thanks, really, but I’ve already eaten….” Starr backed off the last step—into air. She’d been swooped off her feet by someone.

  A man.

  Her stomach lurched as her brain caught up to the fact that a muscular arm banded around her waist. The scent of salty ocean breeze, expensive soap and…exotic man wafted up to her nose.

  One man in particular.

  David hefted her closer against his chest, his breath hot and bearing a hint of toothpaste against her ear. “Good night, ma’am,” he said nodding to the crowd snatching containers of food. “Starr has other plans for supper this evening.”

  Pivoting without waiting for a response, he charged toward the beach with long strides. Away from his house. From her house. Away from the people scattered along the dock pitching shells into the ocean or making out under the moonbeams.

  “Care to clue me in on the other plans?” Starr wriggled in his grasp. He hitched her higher, up over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. “I’m not enjoying these plans.”

  Well, perhaps she was a little interested and fired up as she grabbed hold of his waist to steady herself. Then she figured she shouldn’t let him know she’d given up quite so easily. She kicked her feet in midair and managed to land two good thunks that elicited a grunt if not a more satisfactory outright ouch. “David, put me down.”

  “No.” He kept right on walking, hitching her higher.

  She gritted her teeth against the image of her family crowding the door of the RV, Aunt Essie and Uncle Benny side by side, watching while others peered through the windows. Jeez. Couldn’t they just eat their supper, for heaven’s sake?

  “This is not the way to win me over.” The macho show of force should have torqued her off, and it would have if she could think through the haze of shimmering hormones. The fine weave of his cotton button-down rubbed against her bargain-bin buy. She’d never been a clothes horse—more of a sales-rack and Goodwill-find shopper—but her tactile artist’s senses appreciated the decadent fabrics a man like David wore.

  “Who said I wanted to win you over?” he asked without missing a step.

  Now that landed an ouch to her ego—and momentarily stalled her kicking. “Will you please tell me where we’re going and why you’re doing this?”

  “Soon.”

  His timing. Always on his timetable, all or nothing.

  At least she would get to know where he was taking her. And if she was lucky, she would get to push him into the ocean right afterward as payback for these he-man tactics that—damn him—really were kind of turning her on as she thought of other times he’d carried her over his shoulder only to toss her on a bed, or down onto the sand. Then he would make his way from the foot of the bed paying passionate attention to every inch of her body.

  His feet thudded along the pier outside his house, abandoned. Apparently he planned to have their late night conversation out here.

  Alone.

  She was in trouble. Maybe she could jump in the ocean if she didn’t like the path of their chat.

  David set her down slowly, sensually easing her body along his until he leaned her against the dock’s railing, the bulk of his height blocking out everything but him as he stood in front of her. His pants had stayed perfectly pressed even after a full day of work. His cotton shirt she’d so enjoyed rubbing against bore the slightest wrinkle from the press of her body against him when he’d carried her. Something about the faint wrinkle hinted at an intimacy that tingled through her. Her gaze fell to his arms, his sleeves rolled up, dark hair along his forearms. Strong arms.

  Ohhh-kay. Time to shift her attention elsewhere. She looked up to his face. The moonlight cast shadows over his scowl.

  She wanted to kiss that grumpy expression right off his face…except…oh, yeah…she was mad at him. God, she forgot that so easily when the sparks started snapping between them.

  Starr bit her bottom lip to keep her words and kisses locked up tight. He’d started this. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of begging for an answer. She’d begged often enough around this man—in bed.

  The pupils of his eyes widened. Could he read her thoughts now, too? Was he that good of an interrogator at work? Would she be allowed no secrets from him?

  Finally, he blinked. She exhaled.

  He tunneled his hand through her curls and cupped the back of her head. “Starr, babe, I thought we went over this earlier today. You’ve got to stay away from them.”

  His touch muddled her thoughts when doggone it, she had a list of things, logical things, she wanted to say, such as this wasn’t his problem or any of his business, and instead she found herself babbling, “I’ve asked them to leave and go to an RV park. They refused. Short of siccing the cops on them, I don’t know what more I can do to move them.”

  “Then call the police.” His fingers massaged hypnotic circles beyond anything her ma could have set up in one of her psychic scams. “Or evict them. They have no legal right to be here if you don’t want them around.”

  Starr chewed on her lip again. She really should tell him to get his hand off her, but it felt so amazingly good and she’d never been particularly strong when it came to resisting his touch….

  The very reason she had to stop this. Now. She gripped his wrist. “David. Stop.”

  She held his gaze in a battle of wills, the heat of his skin radiating through even his rolled-up shirt cuff. Finally, his fingers slowed against her scalp and he swung his arm away, to his side. She released his wrist—and the gulp of air in her lungs.

  He tugged at his tie as if in need of air, too. “Damn it, Starr, they steal from people, they prey on the weak and they’re undoubtedly trying to prey on you.”

  “I’m too strong to let anything happen.” And she was stronger now, thanks to the self-confidence Aunt Libby had given her. “They’ll hang out for a few days, realize I don’t have any money to give them and then they’ll leave. Just like always.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I can make it happen faster than that.”

  Too easily she could let him deal with her problems, but she couldn’t tangle her life with his again. “No offense to your professional buddies, but don’t you think that has been tried again and again? It never works. They always get away with whatever illegal or squirrelly scam they’re running.”

  Technically not true, she had to confess, at least to herself.

  The police had caught up with them one
time. The summer they had found ten-year-old Starr locked alone in a boiling hot RV for eight hours while her parents had gone door to door collecting money for yet another bogus charity. She’d nearly died of heatstroke. Five days in the hospital later, the child protective services in Charleston, South Carolina, had placed her with Aunt Libby as a foster child.

  At first she’d been wary of Aunt Libby. Nobody could be that nice. Slowly, Aunt Libby’s maternal magic had worn through the years of neglect and abuse and Starr had begun to heal.

  Then had come a new fear—that her family would try to take her back.

  Thank God, Aunt Libby had always known just how to handle them on their rare visits to the seaside mansion, always with their hands out. And today, Starr followed Aunt Libby’s model of brushing them off.

  “Starr?” David snapped his fingers in front of her face, his voice urgent, a hint impatient.

  “What, David? Can we make this quick? I need to get back to work.” Actually back to Ashley’s party, due to start up in an hour.

  “Has your family ever been reported to me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Has anyone ever told me the specifics of their recent scams?” He thumped his chest.

  “Well, uh, I guess technically not.” She knew he was darned amazing at his job. Heaven knew his mother bragged about his feats often enough. The woman hadn’t wanted the two of them together, yet she also hadn’t been able to resist rubbing Starr’s nose in what a “catch” she’d missed out on as he sent postcards from this country or that.

  Little did his proud mama know those far flung travels only cemented Starr’s resolution she’d made the right choice. Her connection to Aunt Libby’s crumbling old antebellum home, this city, the sisters of her heart went deeper than David could understand.

  “David, honestly, I’m not in their inner circle these days since they know I’m not into that kind of life. Even if I were in the know on their plans, they’re so darn slippery in the execution.”

  “No one gets past me.”

  His confidence was unmistakable.

  She couldn’t resist jabbing. “Could that be because your enormous ego blocks the doorway?”

  His mouth twitched. God, she loved his mouth, those perfectly full lips that brought such pleasure. His ability to laugh at himself made him all the more attractive.

  “You always have been the only woman who wouldn’t put up with my crap.”

  David smoothed his hand over her head again, his fingers tangling in her curls as he slid farther this time, down her neck, her back, free of her hair to palm her waist. He flattened her body to his in one of those masterful shows of gentle force that sent her senses tingling even as she longed to stomp on his foot.

  He tucked his size-fourteen wingtip shoes gently over the toes of her feet in a preemptive move as if reading her thoughts. “You may be the only woman who doesn’t put up with my crap, but you’re also the only woman I can’t seem to forget.”

  Darn him. He always did know what to say to melt her like the glue sticks in her arts-and-crafts gun. His foot slipped off her feet so she could arch on her toes to receive the kiss she could already sense coming.

  No. She would hold strong against temptation.

  She flattened her hands to his shoulders to stop his kiss, if not the embrace. Their chests pumped for air against each other in time with the gushing waves below the dock.

  “I have to go,” Starr gasped. “We’re having a surprise graduation party for Ashley.”

  His arms stayed banded around her, his chin resting on top of her head. He stood a full foot taller than her, yet their bodies always seemed to fit. “No way can she be that old already.”

  “A lot of time has passed since you and I were together.” Years that had filled his body with muscles and her heart with resolve of what she needed from life.

  But oh, how she couldn’t push away from this man just yet. She’d resisted the kiss. She could indulge in at least this much.

  “A year.”

  She’d meant since their teenage time together, since they’d had a relationship. “Does that really count? That was just—” incredible, heart-searing “—sex.”

  That she could narrow down the experience to one word was truly an injustice to a weekend that had left her seeing stars for days.

  “And your point is?”

  “We don’t have anything else in common.” Her heart pinched tight at the minor lie. They’d had plans in common, once upon a dream ago. Of course, now they’d plotted their lives and their paths diverged. Still, pushing him away again was tougher than she’d expected. Damn it, why did this have to ache all over again? “I can’t see past your eyes anymore but I’ll be honest and lay it all out there and say you hurt me. And quite frankly, between you and the gypsy circus act parked on my lawn, I’ve reached my hurt quota for one lifetime.”

  If only he would step back and give her space, she could breathe. And yet that traitorous part of her craved his touch. All the more reason she needed to make this break fast.

  “Well, babe, while I’m not sure I like being lumped in with a bunch of crooks, I get your point.” His hands fell to rest on her shoulders, a warm and too-tempting weight that spurred her to press harder.

  She inhaled a bracing breath full of his tantalizing scent. “So while I understand that you have to settle your mother’s health issues, you will stay clear of me while you’re here.” She tipped her chin toward each of his hands still cupping her shoulders. “I don’t want us to repeat past mistakes.”

  This was tough enough—having him touch her, here where they’d once made love under an eiderdown comforter he’d dragged down to the beach behind a dune, back when the place had been less populated.

  He raised his hands and backed away. “No past mistakes.”

  Starr wrapped her arms around her waist to ward off a chill that shouldn’t have stood a chance on such a warm spring night. As she watched him lumber away, she let herself take one final moment to enjoy the view before she shook herself back into reality, a reality that would not include him.

  Except wait. A dangerous realization tickled up her spine.

  He may have said no past mistakes, but Special Agent Word Craftsman had never once agreed to stay away from her.

  He was ticked off.

  David stood on the outer edge of Ashley’s farewell party held in the Beachcombers Bar and watched as everyone celebrated the youngest sister’s summa cum laude success. His hand clutched around the gift he’d bought, his mind locked on his earlier conversation with Starr. He’d been pushed for time to find Ashley a gift but being here was important for more than one reason.

  How could Starr just call it sex? He might be arrogant…

  Might be? He could almost hear Starr’s throaty laughter in his ear.

  Fine. He had his fair share of ego. He had to be confident in his job, believe in his decisions and forge ahead without hesitation because a moment’s flinch could get him killed. Or worse yet, cost someone else’s life.

  But back to the original source of his frustration. It had never been “just sex” with him and Starr, otherwise they could have figured out how to be “just friends” a long time ago. Otherwise, he wouldn’t make a point of avoiding her during times he spent at his condo in downtown Charleston.

  Sure, he was gone on assignment often, around the U.S. and overseas, but he spent more time in the city than she knew. Because he knew the more they saw each other, the more he risked hurting her again.

  Why hadn’t some smart guy snapped her up yet?

  Some smart guy David already hated with every ridiculous dog-in-the-manger fiber of his being. Hell. David planted his feet in the sawdust-covered floor to keep from barging ahead and claiming her now. He knew he wasn’t right for her. She’d made that clear enough. That didn’t mean he could stand the thought of her with someone else.

  So if he was avoiding her, what was he doing standing on the outskirts of Ashley’s gradu
ation party with a present in hand?

  Because he wanted to keep himself between her and her scam-artist family. A quick glance showed him that lights blazed inside all three of the RVs. He shifted his attention back to the party and saw only a cluster of around fifty people. The bar floor sported a mix of college students, Citadel cadets and some friends of Claire and Starr’s from their clientele, most of whom came from the local Charleston Air Force Base.

  David scanned the room and finally found Ashley parked over by the leaning remains of a hacked-up tiered strawberry cake. Starr must have made it specially for her little sister because Starr preferred mint chocolate. A part of him resented that he knew that and a thousand more details about Starr, minute facts that packed his brain and refused to fade.

  He inched into the room, flattening his way along the wall until he made it over to the guest of honor, who seemed to prefer to take her congratulations one at a time rather than en masse.

  Tall and willowy, Ashley leaned against a support pole, her ever-present long ponytail draped over one shoulder as if to hide the slight remains of her scoliosis.

  “Hey there, little sister.” He tugged the tail of her auburn hair, kid-sis style. “You’re quite the queen of the ball, tonight.”

  “I would have just as soon gone out to dinner, the three of us girls, but you know my sisters.”

  “A bit pushy and a lot proud.” He let go of her hair. “You’re thoughtful to go along with their plan.”

  “I love them.”

  His mother would have been shocked to know he envied the camaraderie shared by a houseful of dirt-poor foster girls without a lineage paper worth speaking of between them. Granted, the loner quality had honed him into a stronger agent, but as a kid, he’d watched through his window for years.

  Only one female had dared defy his mother and cross the boundary line between the houses to say hello to the boy next door. Starr feared nothing.