Meddling with a Millionaire (Case Brothers 1)

She pulled out her design pad and flipped through the sketches she had made over the last few months. Something tugged at her, an elusive notion of what the designs were missing. She turned to a blank page and let her pencil flow across the paper.

The contractor found her in the room a short time later. “I have someone who can come by tomorrow to take a look at your bathroom. His schedule’s pretty full but he can probably get a crew here in ten days or so. Do you have someplace you can stay until the mold is removed?”

“That long?” She blew out a breath. “Do I really need to move out?”

“I definitely think it’s a good idea.”

Emma walked the contractor to the door and returned to her workroom. She didn’t want to deal with packing up and moving. Especially not to Nathan’s condo where prolonged exposure to his sex appeal would weaken her determination not to tumble into bed with him again.

She resumed flipping through her sketchpad, hoping to recapture her creative spark. Frustration filled her as focus eluded her. She couldn’t stop thinking about Nathan’s intoxicating kisses yesterday. Her skin tingled. Blood raced hot and frantic through her veins, pooling in the sweet spot between her thighs. She shifted on her stool, willing the impatient urges away.

She didn’t have time to be distracted. With three weeks until the show, she would need to be focused on her jewelry every second. That meant no thinking about a certain handsome millionaire businessman who drove her crazy in every possible way.

Shaking her head, Emma told her traitorous pulse to settle down and picked up her pencil once more. Sometime later, her phone began to ring, waking her out of a creative fog. As the call rolled to voice mail, she sifted through all the new designs she’d come up with and smiled.

Her stomach growled, so she headed into the kitchen to heat up the leftovers of Nathan’s soup for lunch. While she ate, Emma gazed around the outdated cabinets and appliances. She’d heard a great deal of criticism from everyone who’d seen the loft, but despite all the negative comments, Emma loved the space—imperfections and all—and the possibilities it represented.

She’d bought it a year ago, loving the high ceilings and the industrial feel of the exposed ductwork and brick walls. The front door opened into a large space she used as a combination living room and dining room. Shortly before she’d moved in, she’d had the hardwood floors refinished and they gleamed as they stretched across the inviting space. She’d furnished the living room with a comfortable gray couch and two blue armchairs the shade of Texas bluebonnets. The same blue broke up the expanse of white walls in the form of landscape photographs.

Her phone rang again as she washed her bowl and glass by hand. The dishwasher had died two months ago. Yet another thing that needed fixing.

She let this call go to voice mail as well. She guessed it was Nathan calling to badger her about moving in with him again. Well, that wasn’t going to happen.

Returning to her workroom, she surveyed her equipment and the supplies scattered around the space. It would take her a day or more to get everything organized to move. She didn’t have that much time to waste.

Nathan was just going to have to accept that she wasn’t going to pack and she wasn’t going to move. He wasn’t her boss.

With a dismissive snort, she returned to her project and banished a tall, hunky millionaire from her mind.

“What do you mean she refuses to go anywhere?” Nathan barked into his cell phone. The mover he’d hired sputtered excuses as Nathan strode through Case Consolidated Holdings’ parking garage toward his car. Two days ago his contractor had told her it was dangerous for her to remain in the loft, exposed to the mold.

Stubborn woman. He’d been all set to head home and find Emma all settled in, only to hear that she continued to defy him.

Nathan unlocked his car and tossed in his briefcase, breathing deeply to calm down. He was taking his frustrations out on the wrong person. “Why don’t you guys grab dinner on me while I sort every thing out?”

Ten minutes later he advanced down the hallway toward her loft. When Emma answered his impatient summons, she actually looked surprised to see him. Then, a mutinous expression settled over her beautiful face.

“What are you doing here?”

Despite her unfriendly question, his nerve endings sizzled and popped. She’d pulled her long, dark hair into a ponytail. Worn denim hugged her hips and a baggy sweater dipped off one golden shoulder, baring a purple bra strap.

He leaned his shoulder against the wall, realizing that he’d rather hear “no” from her than “yes” from any other woman.

“Nice to see you, too,” he purred. Arguing with her was getting him nowhere. He needed to switch tactics. “Get changed. I’m taking you to dinner.”

“I don’t have—”

“Time. Yes, I know. But you have to eat, and I doubt there’s anything edible in your refrigerator. Take a little break. You’ll feel more up to working when you get back.”

“And spend the whole meal being bullied by you into doing what you want me to do? No thanks.”

“How about we only talk about the things you’re interested in?” He offered her a neutral smile.

“No badgering?” she prompted. “No attempts at persuasion?”

He raised his right hand as if he was swearing in a court of law. “None.”

“Oh, all right,” she muttered ungraciously. “Give me a couple minutes to change.”