Millionaire Playboys: Paying the Playboy's Price

Millionaire

Playboys

Paying the

Playboy’s Price

Exposing the

Executive’s Secrets

Bending to the

Bachelor’s Will

Emilie Rose

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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

Copyright

Paying the Playboy’s Price

Emilie Rose

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

“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.