Breaking the Playboy's Rules

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Millie said. ‘Do you still have your father?’

  He gave a snort that sounded more like a suppressed cynical laugh. ‘The truth is, I never had my father. I just thought I did.’ His hand curled into a fist where it was resting on the table. ‘He left us when I was twelve. Completely walked out of our lives and didn’t once look back.’ His fingers uncurled and he picked up his glass again. ‘He has a new family now. A wife, two perfect kids.’ He used the same dispassionate tone but underneath she could hear the steely thread of anger.

  Millie could see the same anger written on his features. It was in every tense muscle of his face. She could only imagine how devastated he must have felt as a young boy on the threshold of manhood to be left by his father in such a brutally callous way. No contact over the tough years of adolescence, no mentoring through young adulthood, no relationship at all.

  How had Hunter coped with such heartless rejection? It gave her an inkling of why he was such a driven and goal-oriented man. Didn’t they say that rejection from a parent in childhood could make someone strive to over-achieve all their life in an effort to make up for the abandonment? But it was a never-ending quest—it could not be resolved unless harmony was restored with the absent parent and yet in Hunter’s case it sounded as if the chance of that sort of reunion was next to impossible. ‘That must have been so terribly hurtful for you, especially at that age. Actually, at any age.’

  ‘More so for my mother and sister.’

  ‘You have a sister?’

  Something flickered over his features and a shutter came down in his gaze. ‘Emma is five years younger. Our father’s desertion hit her much harder than me. She worshipped the ground he walked on.’ The hard and bitter note in his voice was gone, and in its place was a sad resignation about things that had happened and couldn’t be changed.

  Millie found herself leaning closer to him, desperate to offer some sort of comfort, some measure of understanding. ‘I’m so sorry to hear that. Little girls often idealise their fathers. He’s usually the first man they fall in love with. You must be very angry with him even now for what he did.’

  Hunter’s expression was back to its hard lines of bitterness, his gaze glittering. ‘He’s the reason I do what I do. He ripped my mother off during the divorce. He hid money in offshore accounts just so he didn’t have to provide for us. She had nothing, not even a house to live in or a car to drive. It was despicable, and I swore from the moment their divorce was finalised that I would never allow someone to do that to another person if I could help it.’

  Millie felt a new respect for his work ethic. She had to readjust her image of him as a powerhouse lawyer intent on acquiring ridiculous amounts of wealth out of other people’s misery to that of a man who sought justice for each and every client who walked in the door. He was driven, focussed, indomitable. The perfect ally in a battle. ‘I think it’s amazing that you’ve chosen to work in divorce law because of what happened to your mother and sister and you. Is your sister a lawyer too?’

  A screen came down over his eyes and he adjusted the position of his water glass on the table with exaggerated precision. ‘No. She’s not in employment at the moment.’ His voice gave no clue to his feelings regarding his sister’s lack of employment but there was a muscle in the lower quadrant of his jaw that tap-tap-tippity-tapped like a miniature hammer being held by someone with a not-quite-steady hand.

  Millie wasn’t known by her friends as a sniffer dog for secrets for nothing. Hunter was better than most at keeping his cards close, but she could sense there was more to his sister’s situation than he was letting on. Did Emma have mental health issues? Drug or alcohol problems? An eating disorder? Had her father’s desertion so young in her life caused her to struggle during school and thus have difficulty finding gainful employment as an adult? Not everyone got a happy childhood, and those that had the more difficult ones often struggled throughout their lives. Millie wanted to press him for more details, but the waiter came with their entrees and the moment was lost.

  Instead, she commented on the gorgeous entrees set down before them—she had caramelised scallops with strawberry salsa, Hunter had crispy duck-breast with cherry port sauce. ‘Oh, my goodness, look at the sheer artistry of this food. Can you believe how incredibly creative chefs are? It never ceases to amaze me. Every mouthful is like a work of art.’

  ‘They certainly do a good job here,’ Hunter said, picking up his fork. ‘Have you been to this restaurant before?’

  Millie speared a scallop with her fork. ‘No, never, but I’ve heard heaps about it.’

  ‘You said earlier you haven’t been out to dinner with a guy for ages,’ Hunter said. ‘I guess you didn’t eat out much with your fiancé before he passed away.’

  In spite of the delicious flavours exploding in her mouth, Millie could feel her appetite slipping away and put her fork back down. ‘Well, certainly not at places as fancy as this, but sometimes we’d pick up a fast-food meal if Julian was feeling up to it.’

  She paused for a beat and went on, ‘Chemo kind of ruins one’s appetite and even the flavour of food at times. And once Julian lost his hair he was really self-conscious and hated being seen in public without a cap or beanie on.’ A tiny sigh escaped her lips before she could stop it. She picked up her fork and speared another scallop. ‘It was hard watching him suffer...’

  Hunter reached across the table and laid his broad hand over the top of hers, the gentle pressure soothing, comforting. ‘It must have been heart-breaking for you. You were childhood sweethearts, right?’

  Millie kept her eyes on their joined hands, conscious of the warmth spreading through her skin from his. Conscious of the lies she was feeding him about her relationship with Julian. ‘Yes, we met in school. He only lived a couple of streets from my house, so we hung out a lot together as kids. We started officially dating when we were sixteen. He was diagnosed with a brain tumour just before his eighteenth birthday.’

  ‘How tragic.’ Hunter’s voice was gentle and full of compassion.

  ‘Yes, it was...’ Millie flicked a glance his way and, pulling her hand from underneath his, continued, ‘He fought it as bravely as he could for six years. Round after round of chemo, so many specialist appointments, long hours on the chemo ward while he had treatment. In and out of hospital when things got bad. I supported him and his mother. I still see her most weeks. She was understandably devastated when he died. He was an only child.’

  ‘His father?’

  Millie gave him a speaking look. ‘Another one of those deadbeat dads who walked out on his family. He left when Julian was a toddler. Julian had no memory of him at all, which was probably a good thing in the end.’

  But because Julian’s mother Lena hadn’t had a partner to share the emotional load, Millie had had no choice but to continue to offer support and comfort even though it had made her feel terribly conflicted. Julian was an only child and Lena had relied heavily on Millie when things had got tough. They’d become a tag team to help Julian get through the ordeal of his illness. They’d supported each other. They’d cheered the other on when the other one’s hopes had faded. They’d stepped up when the other had had to step back. In some ways, Lena had become more of a mother figure to her than her own mother. Millie knew if she’d broken up with Julian, she’d have been breaking up with his mother as well. It had been easier in the end to continue her relationship with Julian, even though for the last couple of years it had felt like an emotional prison from which she might never escape.

  Not that she wanted to reveal any of that to Hunter. She had already shared more than she usually did with someone she barely knew.

  ‘Do you see yourself settling down with someone else one day?’ Hunter asked after a short silence.

  Millie arched her eyebrow in a pointed manner. ‘No. Do you see yourself settling down any time soon?’

  He ga
ve a crooked smile that didn’t make the full distance to his eyes. ‘No. The marriage and happy-ever-after thing isn’t for me. I see the other side of love and commitment every day at work. It’s enough to turn anyone into a hardened cynic.’

  ‘Yes, well, I’ve seen enough with my mother trying to get away from difficult husbands who say they love her until they hate her,’ Millie said with a sigh. ‘She found true love once and lost it.’

  ‘A bit like you, then.’ His comment startled her, not because it was true but because it was false. His gaze was unwavering, penetrating, making her feel raw and exposed.

  Millie looked back at the barely touched food on her plate, her heart thumping, her skin prickling. You are a fraud. A liar. The mental accusation was loud and clanging inside her head, making her increasingly uneasy under the piercing scrutiny of Hunter Addison. Could he read her ‘tells’? The micro-expressions or tonal qualities she couldn’t always control? She forced herself to meet his gaze, schooling her features into a mask. ‘What about you? Have you ever been in love?’

  His slanted smile was cynical. ‘You’re very good at deflection, aren’t you?’

  Millie held his challenging look. ‘A simple yes or no will do.’

  ‘No.’ His tone couldn’t have been more decisive.

  ‘Let me guess—I bet lots of women have fallen in love with you.’ Millie held up her fingers in a tallying motion. ‘One—you’re good-looking. Two—you’re rich and successful. Three...’ She decided against mentioning anything about his undoubted sexual prowess but could feel herself blushing regardless.

  ‘Three?’ he prompted with an arch of a single ink-black eyebrow, the sardonic smile still in place.

  Millie disguised a tight swallow. ‘I’m assuming you’re a good lover.’ Her cheeks were now hot enough to flambé food, her voice betrayingly husky.

  His glinting tawny gaze held hers captive. ‘I guess there’s only one way you’ll know for sure.’

  The words hung in the silence like a lure, a temptation, a dare.

  Millie’s heart missed a beat, then another one. She called on every bit of acting ability she had perfected over the last few years to sit coolly composed in her chair. ‘In your dreams, Addison.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE THING WAS, sleeping with Millie was exactly what most preoccupied Hunter’s mind just lately. He couldn’t stop his imagination playing with the idea of kissing the ripe curve of her mouth, trailing his lips over every delectable inch of her body, being inside her, feeling her pleasure spasm around him.

  Was he so turned on because he hadn’t had a lover in the last couple of months? Such a space between hook-ups was a little unusual for him. He had a healthy, some might even say robust, sexual appetite. He enjoyed the human contact; the physical touch and reciprocal pleasure was something he looked forward to on a regular basis.

  But, since he had met Millie on that blind date from hell, he had lost interest in anyone other than her. Which was frankly kind of weird, because she wasn’t his type. His type played the hook-up game by the rules. Short, satisfying flings that got the job done without anyone’s feelings getting hurt. No strings, no promises, no expectations other than a good time—it could have been his personal tagline.

  But something about Millie Donnelly-Clarke with her feisty spirit and constant push-back excited him in a way he had never been excited before. He understood the word no when he heard it. He wasn’t so egotistical that he couldn’t accept when a woman wasn’t interested in him.

  But the question of why Millie kept staring at his mouth and blushing begged an answer. An answer he was determined to get one way or the other.

  ‘What? You can’t see yourself having a fling with me?’ Hunter asked with a teasing smile.

  Her cheeks were a rosy pink, her blue-grey gaze flashing with defiance. ‘No. I cannot.’ Her tone had a hint of starchy schoolmistress about it, but her gaze drifted to his mouth once more, as if pulled by a force outside of her control, and her throat rose and fell over a tiny swallow.

  ‘Because you’re not ready to move on from your fiancé?’

  Her chin came up another imperious notch. ‘Isn’t it a little tricky for you, getting involved with a client?’

  Hunter held her gaze. ‘Ah, but you’re not my client. Your mother is.’

  Millie’s expression faltered for a nanosecond and her small white teeth sank into the plump pillow of her lower lip. But then her gaze inched up to his again, her gaze clear and direct. ‘I wouldn’t want anything to distract you from doing a good job of sorting out my mother’s divorce.’

  ‘I never let my personal life get in the way of my professional one.’ Except when it came to Emma. Hunter had lost count of the number of times Emma’s issues had impacted on his professional life. He made up for it by working extra hard for his clients when Emma didn’t need him so much, but it was there in the background of his mind all the time—the responsibility of making sure all her needs were met, that she was safe and cared for at all times and in all places. That the people taking care of her were trustworthy and dedicated. That no one could hurt her, upset her, frighten her or exploit her.

  It was his commitment to his sister.

  The only full-time, long-term commitment he had made so far and was ever likely to make to anyone.

  As to being distracted... Well, Millie was the biggest distraction he’d encountered in a very long time, possibly ever.

  ‘So, you’re a true workaholic,’ Millie said, giving him another uppity glance. ‘Work first, play later—if at all.’

  Hunter gave an indolent smile. ‘Oh, I know how to play, sweetheart.’

  Her cheeks darkened to a deep shade of rose. ‘One supposes there aren’t too many women who ever say no to you.’

  ‘Not many.’

  She ran the point of her tongue over her lips and glanced briefly at his mouth before meeting his gaze. ‘Will you excuse me? I...erm...need to use the bathroom.’ She slipped out of the chair and disappeared through the exit to the conveniences.

  Hunter leaned back in his chair and smiled to himself. You’ve got this.

  * * *

  Millie stared at herself in the mirror over the wash basin. Her eyes were overly bright, her cheeks bright-pink, her lips parted as if she had just received a smoking-hot kiss from Hunter’s sexy mouth. If she wasn’t careful, she would be the next woman who couldn’t say no to him.

  She slammed her lips together so firmly, they turned white. Why couldn’t she handle men like Hunter Addison? Or maybe it was more that she didn’t know how to handle herself—the unfamiliar urges and desires triggered by his attention. How was she going to navigate her way through this? She needed him professionally, but her body decided it needed him personally. Intimately.

  She drew in a ragged breath and finger-combed her hair, the tiny glint of her engagement ring catching the light from above. She lowered her hand and curled it into a fist, her right hand coming over the top of her left to cover the ring, as if that small diamond was acting as her conscience’s critical eye on her behaviour. She slowly removed her right hand from her left and gripped the edge of the basin instead.

  You have to resist him. You have to.

  Millie straightened her shoulders, tossed back her hair and put her game face back on. When she got back to the table, Hunter was wearing his reading glasses and checking something on his phone. He looked up and gave a self-deprecating smile, put his phone down. ‘I know. Bad habit. Phones and restaurants don’t mix.’

  Millie slid back into her seat and flicked her napkin across her lap. ‘It’s hard, though, isn’t it? I’m always on mine.’

  ‘That reminds me...’ He picked up his phone again. ‘You didn’t give me your mother’s mobile number or email address. I’ll need to give it to Matteo Vitale, the forensic accountant, as he’ll want to deal directly with her at some stage.’
His fingers were poised over the keys ready to add her mother’s details to his contacts.

  Details that didn’t exist.

  Millie swallowed, her heart suddenly racing. ‘Erm...she doesn’t have one at the moment.’

  His eyebrows came together in a frown. ‘Then when will she have one, do you think?’ There was something a little too lawyer-ish in his tone, bordering on interrogation.

  ‘I’m...not sure. She’s not a fan of them.’

  ‘Okay, so how about an email address? She has one of those, I presume?’

  She shook her head, her gaze not quite meeting his. ‘No email address. You can send any official stuff to my email address or call her on her landline.’

  His frown was now so deep it carved a trench between his eyes. ‘No email address? You’re kidding me, right?’

  She briefly met his incredulous gaze before lowering her eyes once more. ‘I’m not kidding.’

  The silence was so thick she could almost feel it pressing against her chest like a giant hand.

  Hunter put his phone back on the table next to his plate with a soft little thud. ‘Okay.’ He took his glasses off and slipped them into his top pocket. ‘So, do you want to tell me what you should have told me before we had the meeting this morning? Or shall I tell you what I think is the problem?’

  Millie slowly brought her gaze back to his. ‘You’ve guessed?’

  ‘Your mother has literacy issues.’

  Hearing him say it, knowing he had discovered it himself, gave Millie the freedom to nod her head. ‘My mother has serious dyslexia. She is functionally illiterate and innumerate.’

  ‘Right, well, it seems my concerns over her finances were well-founded.’ He released a long breath and added, ‘Look—I wish you’d given me the heads up on it. How does she feel about it? Is she comfortable talking about it?’

  Millie gave him a wry look. ‘If she was comfortable about it, I would have told you.’ She bit her lip and went on, ‘I’ve never told anyone about this before. She’s deeply ashamed and embarrassed, and I do everything I can to help her so she doesn’t have to feel bad about something she can’t help.’