The Millionaire Affair (Love in the Balance 3)

CHAPTER THREE

Kimber needed to shut up. But her default nervous reaction was the stupid laugh that kept bubbling from her throat and a smart-aleck remark or two. Or three.

Bad enough she’d marched around here babbling about décor like he’d any interest in brands, fashion, or style. Mick had been interested, but he was an exception to the rule… and the last thing she needed was another guy like him. She needed to remember that. Landon was not Mick. And she was here to watch Landon’s nephew, not ogle his… everything.

But she’d never been in a six-thousand-square-foot penthouse with a drool-worthy view of Lake Michigan before. And she’d never been gifted gourmet chocolates by a man who smelled like a waterfall on a spring morning. Who wouldn’t be distracted?

When she’d met his stormy eyes through the lenses of his stylish black glasses, she’d made it her goal to crack that buttoned-up façade. At the moment, she thought as she watched him march down the hall and adjust his cuff links, he was not amused.

What he was, was out-of-this-world, F-I-N-E fine. He looked every bit the clichéd successful millionaire. His razor-sharp black pants fell over a pair of shining black shoes, his long legs eating up the corridor as he walked. The freshly pressed gunmetal gray shirt stretched over his back, and she watched the muscles there shift as he swung his arms at his sides. Earlier, she’d caught the way his sleek black-and-charcoal tie made his eyes appear a matching shade of gray. She’d forgotten about his hazel eyes that changed color to complement his wardrobe. What a fashion accessory.

Landon stopped short in the hall and, lost in her thoughts, Kimber nearly plowed into him. His hands landed on her shoulders and she halted inches from his toes, narrowly avoiding scuffing shoes that had cost as much as her entire outfit. Jewelry included.

His lips pursed and he dropped his hands, leaving the imprint of his heated palms on her bare skin and her thoughts tangled in a knot of attraction and longing.

“My room is there”—he pointed to the end of this corridor—“and Lyon’s is right here.” He gestured to the door before them.

She fervently ignored the part of her brain squealing, Landon’s bedroom! and focused on the panel in front of her instead. No sound came from behind Lyon’s door.

“Is he always this quiet?” she asked.

Landon let out a loose laugh before tucking it behind his schooled expression once again. A rush of heat coiled in her belly. Oh yes. She’d have to see about getting him to laugh some more while she was here.

“He’s never this quiet. He had trouble falling asleep last night and I didn’t want to wake him.” He slid his sleeve forward and studied a shiny, large-faced watch. “But,” he said with a sigh, “looks like I’ll have to wake him after all. My apologies if he’s grouchy today.”

He popped open the door to reveal a room the same size as hers, decorated with neutral bedding and curtains. Lyon’s dark mass of curls laid on top of a red and blue pillowcase, and a comforter with the likeness of Superman on it was tucked under his round, mocha-colored cheeks. He opened a pair of dark eyes rimmed with impossibly long lashes when Landon pulled a cord and opened the blinds.

“Kimber is here to meet you, buddy.” Landon’s official tone had been replaced with a soft, deep tenor. Meant to soothe. She had no idea if it was soothing Lyon or not, but it was working on her. She was already feeling swoony.

He sat on the edge of the bed and placed a palm over his nephew’s small shoulder. The scene tugged at her heart, surprising her. She’d never considered herself to be particularly enamored with kids.

“Kim?” Lyon asked, his voice groggy.

“Kimber,” Landon corrected. “Do you want to meet her?”

The boy yawned and blinked at her like a sleepy puppy. “Yeah.” He slid out of the bed and she bit back a smile at his Superman pajamas, complete with a red “S” emblazoned over his chest. He rubbed his eyes and inspected her, yawning again.

All of a sudden, Lyon’s eyes lost their haze. His limbs struck out to grab the nearest toy on the floor and, with a shout, he shot over to her like a bolt of lightning. The blur came to a stop at her feet, sword drawn, and she was nearly downed by his cuteness. From his mussed curls to his wide eyes, to the look of sheer determination drawn across his chubby face, Lyon Downey was a-freaking-dorable.

“Hi,” she said on an exhale of laughter.

His expression grew severe, and he thrust the weapon and growled, “You gonna make me breakfast?”

“Lionel,” Landon said with enough authority that Lyon dropped his elbows slightly. “That’s not how we greet a guest. Especially a lady.”