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EMILIE ROSE lives in North Carolina with her college-sweetheart husband and four sons. Writing is Emilie’s third (and hopefully her last) career. She’s managed a medical office and run a home day-care, neither of which offers half as much satisfaction as plotting happy endings. Her hobbies include quilting, gardening and cooking (especially cheesecake). Her favourite TV shows include ER, CSI and Discovery Channel’s medical programmes. Emilie’s a country music fan because she can find an entire book in almost any song.

Emilie loves to hear from her readers and can be reached at PO Box 20145, Raleigh, NC 27619, USA, or at www.EmilieRose.com.

Cover

Title Page

About the Author

Paying the Playboy’s Price

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Exposing the Executive’s Secrets

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Bending to the Bachelor’s Will

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Epilogue

Paying the Playboy’s Price

Emilie Rose

To the Black Sheep. Long may we baa and may the pasture always be as green.

One

“Is our uptight account auditor ready to be corrupted? Your bachelor’s coming up next.”

Juliana Alden downed her complimentary champagne with the grace of a beer-guzzling dock worker in hopes of drowning the second thoughts swarming around her midsection like angry bees. She discarded her glass on a passing waiter’s tray and grabbed another for courage before facing Andrea and Holly, her two best friends and cohorts in tonight’s foolhardy scheme.

“I’ve never felt more naked in my life. I will never grant the two of you carte blanche with my wardrobe again. My nightie covers more skin than this slip dress.”

She yanked the thin strap of her dress back onto her shoulder again, and then tugged downward on the short hem, which barely covered her hips. Sneaking out the club’s back door gained appeal with each passing second, but if she bolted Andrea and Holly would never forgive her. Then again, they were the ones responsible for garbing her in a dress that could send her father into cardiac arrest if he ventured out of the cigar room long enough to see it, so their opinions were suspect.

Andrea waved away her objections. “You have the figure for it and red is a great color on you. Don’t wimp out now, Juliana.”

A sea of screaming, nearly hysterical women surrounded them, bidding on the men being auctioned off in the name of charity with the same ferocity as the shark feeding frenzy Juliana had witnessed at a nearby aquarium. She’d bet her monthly pedicure the walls of the prestigious Caliber Club ballroom had never reverberated in quite the same way before. The pandemonium only increased her doubts about the plan the three of them had concocted over quesadillas and, clearly, one too many margaritas.

Praying for courage and finding none, Juliana took a deep breath and then another sip of champagne. What in the world had possessed her to believe she could cast off thirty years of being a Goody Two-shoes to bid on the baddest bachelor on the auction block tonight? She should have started with a smaller rebellion, but no, she’d chosen to launch a massive insurrection on her first attempt.

As an account auditor in her family’s privately owned banking chain, she was cautious by nature. She worked a predictable job and drove a sensible sedan. She found comfort in following the rules, having her life add up in precise, orderly rows and in steadily ascending the career ladder the way her mother had before her.

But the sudden pressure to marry for the good of the company had shaken that ladder and made Juliana feel more like a commodity being bartered in the merger negotiations between Alden Bank and Trust and Wilson Savings and Loan than a human being.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. Maybe I’m not ready for the tarnish-your-halo type of man. Perhaps I should choose someone a little less…” At a loss for words, she shrugged. How could she describe the man whose picture in the bachelor auction program had given her hot flashes?

“Studly?” Holly asked with a wicked grin.

Understatement of the year. Juliana nodded.

Bachelor number nine took the stage and Juliana’s heart cha-chaed erratically. The crowd of usually dignified ladies hooted, whistled and stomped their expensively shod feet. If any man could tempt a woman to take a few risks and break a few rules, that one could. Looking completely at home in the spotlight, he flashed an I-dare-you grin and encouraged the already rowdy crowd to make more noise by clapping his hands and swinging his hips to the loud music like the headlining performer he’d once been.

The man knew how to move. She’d grant him that. A shiver skipped down her spine.

His tight black T-shirt stretched across broad shoulders, molding a well-developed chest and encircling bulging biceps. Jeans, faded in those intriguing places she ought to be embarrassed to look at rode low on lean hips, and he wore cowboy boots—something you didn’t see often in the port city of Wilmington, North Carolina. Given that every other man who’d crossed the stage before him tonight had worn a tux, the bar owner’s casual attire screamed renegade—coincidentally, the name of his bar and the word emblazoned across the back of his shirt.

Juliana’s pulse boomed so loudly she could barely hear the MC’s long-winded introduction. Had the woman never heard the old cliché “silence is golden”? If she’d hush and let people look at Rex Tanner, then her job would do itself. What woman wouldn’t want to be carried off in those muscle-corded arms or be coerced by that naughty I’m-gonna-get-you smile?

“‘Feel the power between your legs—one month of Harley and horseback-riding lessons,’” Andrea read aloud from the program. “Juliana, if this guy can’t show you what you’ve been missing, then I’m going to check to see if you still have a pulse. He’s exactly what you need to derail you from your mother’s insane idea.”

Juliana gulped the remainder of her drink. The bubbles burned her nose and brought tears to her eyes. “I’m still not convinced there’s anything wrong with my mother’s suggestion. Wally is a nice guy.”

“You’re not in love with him and he’s boring,” Holly stated.

“More effective than a sleeping pill,” Andrea added. “And he’s a pushover. You’d be wearing the pants in that relationship.”

And that was a problem? The woman-in-charge role had worked for Juliana’s parents. “I love you both for worrying about me and I understand your concerns, but logically, Wally is a good choice. He’s steady, even-tempered and ambitious—like me—and he’s the only man I’ve ever dated who understands the demands of my career and the hours it requires. We can talk for hours without an awkward silence.”

Andrea snorted. “About work. What happens when that subject gets old or, God forbid, you’re still with him when you retire? Are you going to discuss credits and debits in bed? I know you, Juliana. Once you commit to a job—or a marriage—you’ll never give up on it. Forget logic for once in your life. This is your last chance to see that there can and should be more than convenience to a relationship.”

Last chance. The phrase stuck in Juliana’s head. Her last chance before agreeing to marry Wallace Wilson—son of the owner of the bank poised to merge with Alden’s—in a sensible, but loveless match.

She shifted uneasily. Okay, maybe her friends had a point. Wally wasn’t Mr. Excitement, but he was kind, pleasant-looking and steadfast. If she married him, they’d probably have predictable Saturday-night-duty sex for the next fifty years. On the other hand, routines were good and sex wasn’t everything. It certainly shouldn’t be the basis for something as important as marriage. Emotions were volatile and unpredictable. Similar ethics and mutual respect were far more important and dependable qualities. If she married Wally, they’d develop other shared interests and love would grow over time like a safe investment….

Wouldn’t it?

Of course it would. If she had doubts, all she had to do was look at her parents. They’d married almost four decades ago to join two banking families, and they’d remained married when many of their friends had divorced.

The archway leading toward the exit drew her gaze again. Should she escape before diving off the bridge of sanity? No. A promise was a promise. But she truly hated going first. She turned back to her friends. “Swear to me you won’t back out. You will buy bachelors tonight no matter what.”

Holly and Andrea smiled angelically and raised their right hands as if taking the oath on a Bible. Juliana didn’t trust those smiles. While her friends’ lives might not be as methodically plotted out as hers, tonight’s escapade was totally out of character for all three of them. Surely one of them would come to her senses before the evening ended?

The microphone screeched, jerking Juliana’s attention back to the hunk commanding center stage—the one she’d been trying hard to ignore. How could any woman resist him? The man was a Grade-A gorgeous devil from his thick black ponytail to his worn low-heeled boots. He wouldn’t need to read an instruction manual to know how to pleasure a woman—assuming that woman could be pleased.

But purchasing the cowboy’s package would take more than recklessness and champagne courage. It meant flagrantly disregarding her mother’s wishes—something she’d carefully avoided until now for fear of the repercussions. But Juliana had to admit the proposed engagement combined with her thirtieth birthday had left her wondering if there was more to life. She’d promised Holly and Andrea she’d investigate the possibility before meekly agreeing to the future her mother had planned for her.

That didn’t prevent Juliana from wondering if she’d taken on a bigger challenge than she could handle when she’d selected her bachelor—a man the complete opposite of anyone she’d dated in the past. She said a silent prayer that the rebel’s price would exceed the limit she, Andrea and Holly had agreed upon, and then she could choose a less intimidating man.

Coward. If you do, then your plan will fail.

Her plan was beginning to sound more than a little like tequila madness. For once in her life, Juliana had decided to break the rules and, since she didn’t have the first clue where to start, she’d chosen Rex Tanner, a hell-raising rebel who she hoped would lead her astray. For the next month, she’d put herself in his corrupting hands and then once she had this last fling out of the way and she was certain she wasn’t missing out on anything worthwhile, she could marry Wally with no regrets.

“Go home before you get into trouble.”

Juliana nearly tumbled off her flimsy sandals at her bossy older brother’s growled warning. She refused to admit she’d like nothing more than to turn and run as fast as her heels would carry her. To annoy Eric, she raised her numbered fan, offering the first bid on Mr. Too-Hot-To-Handle.

Andrea and Holly grinned and gave her thumbs-up. Juliana didn’t dare glance across the room to where her mother, the charity event’s chief organizer, watched with an eagle eye.

She tilted her head back to glare at her brother. “How much trouble can a month of riding lessons cause? Go away, Eric.”

“I’m not worried about the horseback-riding lessons because you already know how to ride. It’s the other half of the prize that concerns me. You’ll kill yourself on a motorcycle. Be reasonable, Juliana. You are not the most coordinated person on the planet.”

The barb stung—mostly because it was true. In fact, these days she limited her exercise routine to swimming because then she wouldn’t fall off anything and get hurt when her mind strayed to work issues.

Eric attempted to take her numbered paddle, but Juliana snatched it out of his reach and stabbed it into the air. “I’m thirty years old—too old for you to be telling me what to do.”

“Somebody needs to. You and your friends—” he glared at Holly and Andrea “—must have been out of your minds to come up with this plan. Buying men, for crissakes. If you want to support the charity, buy Wallace and not this—”

“Hunk,” Holly interrupted, earning a scowl from Eric.

Juliana pasted on the placating smile she reserved for difficult customers. “Actually, Eric, our mother came up with the bachelor-auction idea. Andrea, Holly and I are merely supporting her efforts.”

“Dammit, Juliana, you can’t handle a guy like him. He’ll chew you up and spit you out. Use your brain. Buy Wally. He’s…safe.” He snatched at Juliana’s fan again and once more she jerked it away.

Safe. Those four letters said it all. She’d played it safe her entire life and where had that gotten her? Ahead in her career, but pathetically far behind in her personal life. She’d never fallen head over heels in love or even lust, and she couldn’t help wondering if she was capable of such intense emotions. Not that she wanted the heartache, but was it too much to ask for bells, whistles and earth-moving orgasms? For a woman like her—one who trusted cold, hard facts more than fickle emotions? Probably. But for once in her life, she didn’t want to play it safe.

She glanced at the man on the stage. Safe didn’t make her skin tingle or her breath quicken. She shoved the paddle into the air this time holding it high above her head and slightly behind her. Her brother was taller, but he was as conservative as she was. He wouldn’t make a scene or wrestle her to the ground to keep her from bidding.

“I don’t want to buy Wally. Saturday-night suppers? How unimaginative is that? Besides, I already have a standing dinner date with him on Fridays. What’s wrong with having a little fun? You should try it sometime.”

And then she winced. Eric had been very publicly jilted a few months ago and fun was probably the last thing on his mind. She suspected his heart hadn’t been broken, but his pride had to have taken a serious blow. The worst part was that since he’d failed to marry into the Wilson banking family, her mother had decided Juliana should.

She waved her paddle—a little more desperately this time. “Eric, I have carefully thought this out, and I know what I’m doing, so leave me alone.”

“Sold to number 223,” the MC shouted from the stage. “Pay up and collect your prize, young lady.”

Juliana’s stomach plunged to her crimson-painted toenails. She looked from Eric to her mother’s horrified expression. Andrea and Holly clapped and cheered. Juliana didn’t need to double-check her number to know she’d won the rebel, and she had no idea how much she’d paid for him—a true shock for someone who tracked money for a living. Slowly lowering her arm, she swallowed and briefly closed her eyes as a bolt of unadulterated panic zigzagged through her. She wasn’t ready to face the stage and the consequences of her virgin voyage into mutiny. She might never be ready.

Dizziness forced her to inhale. She faked a smile for Eric and anyone else who might be watching. “Thank you for your concern, big brother, but aren’t you supposed to be behind the curtain getting ready for your turn on the block?”

Eric flinched and paled. A smidgen of guilt pricked Juliana for verbally jabbing his sore spot with a deliberate taunt. Her brother was not happy their mother had shanghaied him as a bachelor. But Eric wasn’t Juliana’s problem right now. She had her own catastrophe-in-the-making to handle. Dread ballooned inside her.

With her brother’s muttered curses and Andrea and Holly’s “Go get ’ems” ringing in her ears, Juliana made her way to the table in the corner of the room and handed over her check to collect her…gulp…prize.

Her mother, with fury in her eyes, met her there. “Juliana Alden, are you out of your mind? And where in the world did you find that disgraceful dress?”

Juliana’s insides clenched tighter as all her doubts ambushed her at once. She must have been temporarily insane to agree to Andrea’s suggestion that they celebrate their thirtieth birthdays by spending part of their trust funds on something wild, wicked and totally selfish.

No, not insane. Desperate. If she couldn’t feel the heart-pounding passion other women whispered about with a man as blatantly sexy as the rebel, then she was a lost cause, and she’d be better off with a man like Wally who wouldn’t expect more than she could deliver.

But while Juliana admired her mother’s business acumen and hoped to emulate Margaret Alden’s career success, the two of them had never been close, so confessing the tangle of emotions driving her decision wasn’t a viable option.

“Mother, I have always done everything you’ve ever asked of me, but tonight, this—he—is for me.”

She glanced beyond her mother’s shoulder. Juliana’s prize stalked toward her in long purposeful strides, and the hairs on her neck rose. Why did she feel like cornered prey? Determined not to be cowed by the cocky challenge in his eyes, she assumed the debutante pose her mother had drilled into her—tall and regal, chin high—and hoped her knees weren’t visibly knocking beneath her scandalously short hem.

From a distance of ten yards—and closing far too quickly—the rebel’s dark gaze drifted over her, making her intensely aware that she wore nothing but a thong beneath the thin dress.

Had she ever met a man who oozed this much sexuality? Definitely not. Her pulse fluttered irregularly and her skin tightened and warmed.

“What about Wallace?” her mother whispered angrily.

With great effort, Juliana tore her gaze away from her prize and refocused on her mother. “I will very likely spend the rest of my life with Wally. Neither of you should begrudge me a month of riding lessons.”

Her mother’s lips flattened. “One month and then I fully expect you to come to your senses. The Wilsons are a fine family and Wallace has impeccable manners.” Her mother could be describing a pedigreed pooch, but then her mother would probably prefer a well-trained lap dog to a real man. “Be assured your father won’t be as understanding.”

No, he definitely would not. He’d be whatever her mother told him to be. As much as Juliana loved her father, she wasn’t blind to his faults.

“Hey, babe.” The deep gravelly voice sent goose bumps parading over Juliana’s skin. She ignored her mother’s shocked gasp and faced the man who’d come to a halt a yard away. The heat in his naughty smile and coffee-colored eyes robbed the strength from Juliana’s knees. He offered his hand. “I’m Rex and I’m going to teach you to ride.”

Ride what? Or whom? The questions popped involuntarily into her head and she couldn’t breathe. Her teeth met with an audible click when she closed her mouth. She had definitely bitten off more of a challenge than she could chew. Rex Tanner was bigger, sexier and far more intimidating up close than he’d been onstage or in the tiny two-inch picture printed in the program. Even in her heels, Juliana’s eyes barely reached the level of his mouth. What a mouth. And boy, did he look like he knew how to use it.

That is what you wanted, isn’t it?

No. Yes. No. Ohmigod, Eric was right. I can’t handle a man like Rex Tanner.

Yes, I can. And I will.

The corners of his lips quirked upward as if he were used to dumbstruck females.

Embarrassed, Juliana pasted on a polite smile. Her fingers trembled as she slid her hand into Rex’s. “Hello, Rex. I’m Juliana.”

Warm, callused skin abraded her palm as he grasped her hand, and when he slid his other arm around her shoulders, pulled her closer and turned her toward the photographer, every cell in Juliana’s body screeched in alarm at the searing press of his flesh against her side and his long fingers curved over her bare shoulder.

“Smile, babe,” he whispered in a voice as rough and piercing as a rusty nail. She felt the impact deep in her womb.

His leather-and-outdoors scent enveloped her, and his nearness made her woozy. She blamed the stars in her eyes on the camera’s flash and knew she lied.

As soon as Octavia Jenkins, the newspaper reporter covering the event, and her photographer sidekick departed, Juliana quickly disengaged and scrambled to make order out of her chaotic response. The temptation to discover how those long, slightly rough fingers would feel on the rest of her skin was a totally new experience and a step in the right direction if she found the courage to follow through with her plan.

If? You have planned this for weeks. You are absolutely committed to following through. No backing out now.

Overly conscious of her mother’s disapproval and the stares of the other patrons aimed at them, Juliana met Rex’s gaze.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” Her words gushed out in a breathless invitation instead of the firm request she’d intended.

A bone-melting smile slanted his lips. “That’s the best offer I’ve had all night.”

After delivering a lengthy, censuring look, her mother pivoted and stormed off in a regal huff. Juliana turned in the opposite direction and headed for the exit before she could turn coward and ask for her money back. Without looking over her shoulder, she knew Rex Tanner followed. She could feel him behind her, hear the rhythmic thud of his boots on the marble floor, see the jealous glares of the women they passed directed toward her and the appreciative appraisals aimed at him. Many of those women were married and some were old enough to be his mother.

Rex reached past her to push open the club’s front door, and a blast of sobering air smacked Juliana’s face as she stepped outside.

Dear heavens. She’d bought herself a bad boy.

What was she going to do with him?

And how far was she willing to let this experiment go?

Bought by a spoiled rich chick with more money than sense.

Rex studied Juliana’s arrogant bearing and questioned his sanity in agreeing to his sister’s crazy suggestion to use the bachelor auction to publicize his bar. If the bank note weren’t coming due in sixty days, then nothing could have persuaded him to get back on a stage in front of screaming women.

Been there. Done that. Burned by it.

Self-disgust didn’t stop him from appreciating the tasty morsel in front of him as she swished her red-wrapped hips away from the noise and chaos inside. Her lingerie-style dress looked like something she’d wear to bed instead of to a swanky country club, and the dark curtain of hair bouncing between her shoulder blades glowed with the same rich patina of his old guitar.

For the first time since moving to Wilmington, he found himself attracted to a woman, but everything about Juliana, from her cultured southern voice to her expensive clothing and the chunk of change she’d dropped on him tonight, screamed money. Rich gals like her didn’t settle for rough-off-the-ranch guys like him long-term, and he’d had enough meaningless encounters to last a lifetime. When he’d left Nashville and the groupies behind, he’d sworn he’d never use or be used by a woman again. As long as Juliana realized that she’d bought his auction package and nothing else, they’d get along fine. But before he followed her wherever she was headed, he needed to be certain of one thing.

“Hey, Juli,” he called as they reached the semicircular stairs leading down to the parking lot.

She jerked to a halt and spun to face him. Her bright blue eyes nearly made him forget what he was going to say.

Her chin inched upward. “My name is Juliana.”

Stuck-up or not, she didn’t look like the kind of woman who had to buy men. “Yeah, sure. You have a jealous husband who’ll be gunning for me?”

A confused frown puckered her brows. “A husband?”

“The guy trying to stop you from bidding,” he clarified.

“That was my brother. I’m not married.”

“’S’all right then as long as you’re over twenty-one.”

Her long lashes fluttered and a pleat formed between her eyebrows. “You have jealous husbands chasing you?”

She’d ignored his comment about age. “Not anymore.”

Her red lips parted and her chest—a damned fine chest—rose. “But you did?”

“Yeah.” Most guys didn’t take it well when they found out their wives had slept with another man. Rex hadn’t taken the news that some of the groupies were married well, either—especially since the info had often been delivered via their husbands’ fists after the intimate encounters.

He thought he heard Juliana wheeze as she turned to descend the steps. He’d have to be dead not to appreciate her long, sleek and sexy-as-all-get-out legs atop those red heels. She stopped abruptly at the base of the stairs with a distressed expression on her pretty face.

“Problem?”

She touched long slender fingers to her temple and then against her throat. “I rode with friends. I don’t have a car, and I want to…” She looked past his shoulder and panic flared in her eyes.

He turned and spotted the pearl-clad dragon lady who’d organized the event and an uptight-looking man coming through the front door of the club. Understanding dawned. “You want to get out of here?”

“Yes, and fast.”

“Did you write a bad check?”

Impossible as it seemed, her regal posture turned even starchier, as if he’d insulted her. “Of course not. Please, get me out of here.”

These days he avoided ugly scenes. “My bike’s this way.”

Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. She gestured to her skimpy attire. “I’m hardly dressed for a motorcycle ride.”

He ought to leave her, but dammit, he’d agreed to this stupid auction and he would follow through. Besides, he wouldn’t wish the dragon lady on anybody. “I don’t see any taxis. If you need to make a fast getaway, then I’m your only option. Where to? Home?”

She grimaced. “Anywhere but there.”

“Let’s go.” He grabbed her elbow and towed her toward his Harley. She jogged to keep up. When they reached the side of his motorcycle—one of a handful of items he’d kept from his past—he tossed her his spare helmet and waited to see that she knew how to fasten it before donning his own. “Hop on and hold on.”

Seconds later she’d mounted the bike behind him and gingerly clutched his waist, but she kept several inches between them. He twisted the throttle. The engine roared and the bike surged forward as he released the clutch. Her squeal pierced the deep growl of the Harley, and then her arms banded around him with close to rib-cracking force, erasing the gap between them.

Big mistake. Having her naked legs wrapped around his hips with the heat of her crotch pressed snugly against his butt just might melt a few brain cells. And if he couldn’t ignore the softness of her breasts mashing against his shoulder blades and concentrate on the road, then he’d end up wrapping the bike around a telephone pole.

Warm, humid air rushed past them, fluttering her short skirt and baring more of her toned thighs. He forced his eyes away from the tantalizing sight and back on the road. Where could he take her? The shorter the ride, the better. The roar of the engine made asking impossible. Might as well take her to his place since he and Juliana needed to compare calendars and set up the riding lessons.

Pride filled his chest as Renegade’s lights came into view. He’d bought the vacant riverfront building in the historical district eight months ago. It had taken a lot of sweat and most of his cash to turn the downstairs into a business and the upstairs into a home his sister Kelly and her girls could visit. He’d opened his doors four months ago, but business hadn’t been as brisk as he’d hoped—hence his participation in the auction.

He pulled into his narrow private driveway, automatically counting the empty parking spaces out front as he passed. If he wanted to stay in Wilmington near his sister, then he had to turn a profit soon and pay off the bank note.

He parked, climbed from the bike and removed his helmet. Juliana remained seated. She fumbled to unfasten her chin strap and then pulled off her helmet. Rex rocked back on his heels with a silent whistle of admiration. Now there was a centerfold-quality picture—minus the staples—guaranteed to keep a man up all night. Mile-long legs straddling the Harley’s black seat, red strappy heels, skimpy dress, beautiful face, tumbled hair. A hot package.

But good-looking women had caused him plenty of trouble before, so he tamped down his physical response and offered his hand. Gingerly, she curled her soft fingers around his and then struggled to draw her leg over the seat. A glimpse of her candy apple–red panties hit his belly like a fireball.

12 3 Növ.

Millionaire Playboys

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