Tempted Read online

  It was bad enough he was going to be floating around without any work to keep him busy, but the threat of completely idle time gave him the willies.

  His gaze traveled to the opposite wall, knowing Little Miss Hot Stuff was on the other side.

  Either fate had one damn fine sense of humor or was a mean bitch, because that woman was going to be hard to put out of his mind.

  Teagan didn’t know anything about her aside from the fact that he wanted to know her better.

  But there was something cheesy about knocking on his neighbor’s door with such an obvious pickup line, right?

  Well, she did board a singles cruise, so that implied she was interested in meeting up with people, he reasoned.

  Or maybe she’d been roped into this gig, same as Teagan, and just wanted to get through it.

  Guess there was only one way to find out.

  Hell, there was no harm in being friendly.

  Teagan smoothed his hair and then exited his room to knock on his neighbor’s door.

  She opened it with a subtle frown until she saw him. “Yes?” A slow quizzical smile followed, and he started stuttering like a jackass who’d never been around a female in his life.

  “Uh, so here’s the thing... I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing. And...forgive me if I sound like a perv, but...is this by any chance a swingers cruise?”

  Way to lead with something nonthreatening, dude.

  Her smile faltered but she didn’t slam the door in his face—good sign—then answered, “No, it’s for singles. Why? Were you looking for a swingers cruise?”

  “No, not all!” Teagan smiled with relief. “Thank God. I’m not into that swapping business. I mean, no judgment for those who are, but I’m not the type who enjoys sharing.”

  “Good to know,” she said, mildly amused. “Was there anything else...?”

  Well, he was batting a thousand. Had he completely forgotten how to flirt?

  Apparently.

  The rust was practically grinding his gears. At one time, he’d been damn near the cat’s meow. Now he couldn’t even make simple conversation. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

  Time for some damage control.

  “My brother booked this cruise for me and I’m...sort of flying blind,” he said by way of apology.

  A spark of reluctant interest lit up her blue eyes. “Does your brother always book your vacations?”

  “Hell no. I don’t usually have time to vacation, but even if I did, I wouldn’t let J.T. take on that job. He and I have different ideas of what constitutes fun.”

  She crossed her arms lightly as if amused. “So why did your brother book you on a singles cruise?”

  “It’s not a story you want to hear standing in a hallway. It’s more of an over-dinner conversation,” he said with a grin. “Maybe with some wine, good food, excellent company.”

  “Oh, is that so?” she said, one eyebrow lifting. “And what makes it worth all that?”

  Teagan held up three fingers then said, “Three words—plane crash, corporate intrigue and danger.”

  “I see math is not your strong suit.”

  “I don’t know... I can count quite clearly how you plus me equals a cozy dinner for two. How about it? I know you want to hear this story.”

  She laughed. “No doubt you’re the hero in this tale.”

  “I don’t mean to brag, but I did my part.”

  “Let me guess, you’re a covert operative in the CIA and you were on a super secret international mission,” she teased, clearly not buying an ounce of his story. The irony was that his story was absolutely true. Although, he wasn’t supposed to talk about it. Confidentiality and all that.

  “Sorry to disappoint, but not the CIA,” Teagan said with a half grin. “Just a private pilot with a charter who got lucky. Or unlucky, depending on how you look at it.”

  “Where’d you learn to fly?”

  “The US Air Force.”

  “Hmm.”

  Usually that sentence prompted more interest. He wasn’t one to use his service to open doors or drop panties, but he was a bit surprised by her lack of reaction. “Got bad history with a flyboy?” Teagan asked.

  “No. Not at all. I just don’t like people lying about time in the service. Some things should be sacred.”

  Teagan lost his smile. She thought he was lying? That was a new one. He straightened, quick to set her mind at ease, because it didn’t sit right to be accused of doing something he abhorred. “You’re right,” he agreed, seeming to surprise her with his firm tone. “People who lie about serving their country are the lowest scum and I can assure you, there is no stolen valor here. I served my country willingly, as did my brother. Now we own a private charter plane business here in Los Angeles.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Teagan Carmichael. And yours?”

  Again that enigmatic smile but no reciprocal answer.

  “Not gonna share?” he asked, drinking in every bit of her. She was so pretty, looking at her nearly hurt his eyes. There was something so untouchable about her, like a queen gracing her people with a glance and a subtle wave. “Seems kinda the point of this trip, right? Getting to know people?”

  At that, she answered, “Harper Riley,” and he nearly crowed with happiness. He had a name!

  “Nice to meet you, Harper.”

  “Likewise, Teagan.”

  They were off to a decent start.

  “So...about that dinner...”

  But Harper wasn’t as charmed as Teagan had thought because she flat out turned him down.

  And then she closed the door firmly in his face.

  Well, hell, that was not a good sign at all.

  * * *

  HARPER CLOSED THE door with a frown.

  Why were the charming ones always broke as hell?

  His idea of a good time probably included a monster truck rally and convenience store hot dogs.

  Definitely not to her standard.

  But, he was certainly nice to look at.

  Damn, when was the last time she got to choose based on chemistry?

  Boohoo, life’s rough. Stop crying and start focusing.

  Stuart Buck was the real prize.

  Vulnerable, looking for someone to share his life with and hopefully old-fashioned when it came to prenups—as in he didn’t believe in them.

  Harper pulled her phone from her purse to refresh her mind with all the research she had archived on the old billionaire.

  His wife, Rachel, had been the quintessential silent partner, standing behind her man as he’d built his empire, smiling with adoration at the man who’d revolutionized the toilet industry.

  Props to you, Rachel, Harper thought with derision. I could never do that.

  Harper was more about the end game than the building game.

  And Stuart was nicely set up.

  He owned property in the Hamptons, a Manhattan apartment, a log cabin in Vail and, of course, his palatial mansion on Nob Hill in San Francisco, as well as his well-appointed beach house in Santa Barbara.

  An excited tingle tickled her stomach. She loved the thrill of the hunt, especially when the prize was fat and juicy like Stuart.

  Harper would do her best to help Stuart move on from the death of Perfect Wifey Number 1.

  Because life was for the living.

  And it wasn’t as if his wife was going to spend his millions.

  A small smile found her, but, in spite of her plans to go over her research, Harper’s thoughts drifted to her cute neighbor.

  She certainly knew that type. Teagan Carmichael was the kind of man her mother would’ve tripped all over herself to land. But even if Anna Riley had never learned, Harper had gotten the messa
ge loud and clear.

  Charming men were the first to bail when things got tough—or when they’d taken everything there was to take.

  Poor Mom. In love with being in love. Eternally hopeful that the next guy was the one.

  Harper would watch as men walked in and out of Anna’s life, leaving her with less and less.

  If a man had bad credit, was nearly homeless, with a string of abandoned baby mamas, but could charm her with a seemingly devoted smile, Anna was all in.

  But if Anna was continually blinded by love, Harper had become jaded by it.

  Especially after Rex Harrington. Or whatever his name truly was.

  Just the thought of Rex and what he’d done to her mother—and by proxy, her—made Harper want to throw something.

  So, it didn’t matter that Teagan was the kind of man who took her breath away. His cute face and tight behind weren’t going to pay her bills.

  Tonight was the dinner and dance mixer. She’d already arranged to be seated at Stuart’s table. No doubt she’d have to fend off her share of competition, but this wasn’t her first rodeo.

  She pulled up Stuart’s picture. Not bad looking. Bald but not fat—that was a plus.

  Her last target had been as jolly as Santa Claus in the waistband, but not quite as pleasant in his demeanor.

  She tried not to remember the times when his slobbery kisses had nearly made her retch.

  Ulysses Prawner had been the worst.

  A millionaire, but barely so, he’d liked to spend his money on women and toys. Harper had helped him in his endeavors.

  Only, Ulysses hadn’t known when to stop. His investments couldn’t keep up with his spending and before long he’d come to Harper with a sob story.

  “Baby,” he’d implored as she’d packed her bags. “I’m just in a slump. Things will get better. They always do. Don’t go.”

  Harper had already been casing the next target and was eager to move on. Actually, she’d been relieved to find a reason to bail. “Ulysses, let’s not make this uncomfortable. What we had has run its course.”

  “But I love you, baby,” he’d cried, grasping for her hands.

  She’d tried to find an ounce of compassion for the man, but the well had run dry.

  Pulling her hands free, she’d cast him a look filled with pity and walked out the door.

  Not empty-handed, of course.

  Every gift, every bit of cash that flowed her way had gone into a secret account, as did all her investments.

  Someday she’d have enough to be solvent on her own. No more chasing after wealthy old pricks, swallowing her dignity and pride to cater to their every whim.

  Someday.

  That’s why Stuart Buck was so important.

  That old man was going to put a ring on her finger—without the protection of a prenup.

  Then, when he died, all of his assets would go to Harper.

  No more scouring the society pages, frequenting country clubs and pretending to be someone she wasn’t just to make a dollar.

  No more stressing about how she was going to pay her mother’s care bill.

  The woman was as dependent on Harper as a child was on its parent.

  Irony at its finest.

  Even as much as Harper was focused on the big picture, there were times when a forlorn sadness intruded on her thoughts.

  She’d stopped feeling guilty a long time ago, but now and then, she wished she had the luxury of enjoying a normal relationship.

  Thankfully, that kind of wistful thinking didn’t happen often, but seeing someone like Teagan was always good for a little melancholy.

  The fact was, she didn’t want to rely on anyone but herself for her well-being. In this world, either you were on the bottom or the top. And she made sure she was never on the bottom.

  Harper jerked a short breath in and refocused. “Stuart, you sweet, old man. You are never going to know what hit you.”

  Harper slipped her phone back into her purse and disappeared into her bathroom to get ready.

  The stage was set and the players ready.

  Time for the performance.

  3

  TEAGAN SURVEYED THE resplendent lounge, with burgundy walls and gold filigree ornamentation spilling out over every surface, and wondered if he’d somehow stepped into a time warp.

  Lounge acts always reminded him of cheesy pickup lines and boozed-out singers looking for some last-ditch effort to rekindle their dying career.

  In other words, Teagan had never really considered a lounge a great place to meet people he wanted to hang with.

  But as his gaze perused the room, he locked on to the one person who’d made this trip remotely interesting.

  Harper.

  Long dark hair curled in lazy waves down her open-back black dress, the short hem teasing the toned length of her legs perched on sassy heels. Everything about her was elegant and refined, yet pulsed with a raw sensuality that spoke his language.

  For him, everyone else faded away, even the flock of men surrounding her, all vying for a smile from the beauty.

  Harper knew the power she held over men. Teagan could see it in the way she played the coy and delicate lady for the decidedly older men salivating around her.

  He continued to watch with interest, finding the scene telling.

  Teagan knew women of all kinds.

  Being a former flyboy, his education on women had taught him that they could rule the world if they wanted.

  They held the power in their nimble fingers to twist men in pretzels, but only a small percentage actually knew how to wield that power with any kind of efficiency.

  But watching Harper, it was easy to see that the woman knew exactly what she was doing.

  Good sense told him to walk away.

  Find a different lady to spend his week with—someone less complicated.

  Less dangerous.

  But he knew that wasn’t going to happen.

  A slow burn of a smile spread on his lips. Harper was a challenge that fired him up in ways he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time.

  But if he remembered the rules of this game correctly, a direct approach would end in failure.

  Harper was all about strategy, cunning.

  So he had to respond in kind.

  Well, J.T. had wanted him to cut loose, have fun.

  What better fun could there be than trying to catch a woman intent on running away?

  Hell, it was a bad idea—practically reeking of disaster—but he was in.

  All in.

  Tonight’s event was a standard meet and greet, with a single-and-ready-to-mingle vibe. Polite laughter and the buzz of conversation floated around the room. There were plenty of fish in this fishbowl, that was for certain.

  Once his buddy Kirk Addler had joked that Teagan ought to put himself on Tinder. Teagan hadn’t paid attention to the newest apps and whatnot that were out there, so he’d reluctantly checked it out, seeing as Kirk seemed keen on it.

  After a few appalling swipes, Teagan was a definite no.

  And Kirk deserved a kick in the ass.

  And more than likely, an STD check.

  Swipe right, swipe left...no thanks.

  If that was the dating in the new age, he’d happily remain single.

  Ignoring the urge to insert himself into her circle of admirers, Teagan made a deliberate detour to the bar but managed to make brief eye contact with the brunette hottie. However, he made sure he was the one to break contact first before continuing on, as if she were merely a blip on his ever-roving radar.

  Chicks hated to be overlooked.

  Especially ones who knew they were the hottest in the room.

  A smartly dressed barte
nder politely attended to his needs and, after receiving his beer, he tipped the man well.

  Teagan didn’t have to wait long before his bait caught a nibble.

  But not by the right fish.

  Cougar Lady was hot on his trail, eyes flashing and tail twitching. “There you are again,” she said, sliding into the seat beside him at the bar. This time she extended her hand in a seductive introduction. “Vanessa Vermuelen. And you are? Aside from tall, delicious and ready-to-eat?”

  “Teagan Carmichael,” he answered, appreciating the view of her bountiful cleavage practically inviting him to lay his head on it. He flagged the bartender, and because Teagan had tipped well, the bartender was eager to serve. “My lady friend here is in need of a drink.”

  “Whiskey sour,” she said with a throaty laugh that was deep and sexy. Then she gently tugged at the bartender’s sleeve and said with a wink, “And don’t go light on the whiskey, sweet thing.”

  The bartender grinned and ducked his head in a nod. “You got it.”

  Vanessa turned to Teagan. “The drinks are included in your package but they tend to skimp on the good stuff. I always like to let the bartender know that I like a stiff...drink.”

  If Teagan hadn’t been clued in already, he would’ve caught the message loud and clear this time—he was on her meal plan.

  “So tell me, Teagan... What are you here for?” she asked, going for the direct approach. “A little fun, something deeper? Because I’m open to either. I’m footloose and fancy-free and I intend to live it up.”

  Teagan couldn’t help but smile at the engaging woman, even if he didn’t want to sleep with her. She had a way about her that was infectious, and he liked her company.

  “I’m not sure what I’m looking for,” he answered. “My brother booked this cruise and kinda forced me to go.”

  “Sounds like a fun brother,” she said, sipping her drink. “So, not married? Divorced? Widowed? What’s your story?”

  “Absolutely single. Never been married. You?”

  Vanessa released a breath in dramatic style and readjusted her ample cleavage. “Was married to a real son of a bitch but he did me a solid and died. His insurance payout was about the only decent thing he ever did in his life.”