Living with Temptation (4 page)

“So, what do you think of the place?” Dean asked. She
stepped up onto the patio, looking out towards the pool. How nice it would be
on a hot day. Returning her attention to Dean, Chelsea followed him inside,
welcoming the warmth in the house. She watched as he placed the bag of clothes
onto a white leather couch.

Chelsea studied the living room, with a brown rug on the
polished wooden floors, two wide leather couches and a black, unlit fireplace
in the far wall. It was very spacious, and the roof was at a comfortable
height. Certainly not as large as it had looked, but it was homely.

“It’s perfect,” she said appreciatively. “It’s just…”

“Not what you expected?” he finished for her. “I get that
from a lot of women who come here. This was my parents’ place. They passed away
years ago.”

“Oh,” Chelsea said softly as she stood at the doorway,
feeling uncomfortable. Of course, she remembered, he would have had plenty of
women around here. She didn’t expect Dean to talk about that so casually. As he
raised his head, his gaze fixating on hers, she wondered if he was lonely.

That would explain why he insisted on her accepting to live
with him. And the more she thought about it, she realized she was lonely too. Living
with Dean was just what she needed. Perhaps it was what they both needed.  

“I’m sorry,” she added. “I lost my father. It’s not easy.”

Dean pressed his lips together. “Never is. I’ll grab the
rest of your things and bring them in here. Take a look around if you like.”

Chelsea nodded, brushing her hair behind her ears as Dean
walked past her. His arm lightly pressed against hers, drawing her attention to
the heat of his body. As she heard his footsteps against the wooden patio, she
tried not to look back at him. Even though their skin didn’t touch, having him close
was enough to make her body warm with desire.

It’s just been a while,
she told herself.
That’s
all it is.

She exhaled through her teeth, noticing a doorway leading
out to the kitchen and expansive dining room. Chelsea walked towards it,
admiring the chandelier hanging above. The kitchen was spacious and tidy, with
black counters, a two door refrigerator and white tiled floor. The dining room
looked barely used, with a long table draped with a white cloth.

Everything seemed to glimmer, to stand out and remind her so
blatantly that this way of life could never be hers. She’d come so close with Ryan,
but in the end, it all fell apart.

 Chelsea returned to the living room, her gaze going to the
stairs directly before the front door, leading to the bedrooms. She was
hesitant about going up there, wondering if there were any rooms Dean considered
off limits since this used to be his parents’ house.

She understood the grief he would’ve gone through, as she
experienced it when her father passed away. Her mom said it was an accident,
but she knew what led to his death, and had been helpless to stop it. Chelsea
swallowed heavily, feeling her hands shake slightly. The pain and grief had
eased over the years, but it could still return as sharply as ever.

She forced her attention to the rest of the house. Chelsea
was so transfixed by the subtle details - the candles sitting on the mantelpiece,
the deep red curtains - she didn’t notice Dean had entered until he spoke.

“You’ll be sleeping upstairs, down the hall from me,” he told
her.

Chelsea raised an eyebrow as she glanced at him. She
wondered how he dealt with losing both of his parents. Judging from the way he
carried himself, it was as if he had no care in the world. He dumped the last
bag onto the couch and turned to look at her. Dean had the authoritative air of
a millionaire, but looked effortlessly casual. Again she was taken aback by how
imposing he was, and it sent a shiver of desire through her.

He brushed a finger across his chin, the movement drawing
her attention to his tanned arms, the muscles bulging against his shirt. She
gently bit her tongue to stop herself from gaping at him. How could she let
herself act this way? Losing Ryan had been painful, yet that didn’t mean she
could allow her wayward thoughts to distract her. Dean was a good distraction,
but it meant nothing.

If she allowed herself to feel for him, it would develop
into something more. Chelsea couldn’t help that. Falling for Ryan happened so
quickly that marriage came within a few months. With Dean, it was raw
attraction. That was how she wanted to keep it.

“I’d prefer to be in that separate room outside, near the
garage,” she insisted, trying to keep her voice steady. She clamped her hands
together. “You won’t notice me so much that way.”

“And why would I want that?” he grinned. Chelsea narrowed
her eyes at him. What happened to staying out of each other’s way? Dean was
there for companionship, she didn’t want to strike up a friendship with him, or
anything more than that. Just having him look at her was enough to lead her
thoughts off track, and keeping them in line was an effort she didn’t need.

“I’d appreciate my privacy,” Chelsea responded, leveling her
gaze with him. No doubt Dean always got what he wanted. But she knew the
further away from him she slept, the less frustrated she would be. She was here
to recover and move on, not fantasize about what could happen.

Dean pursed his lips and nodded.

“All right, but I’ll show you your room first.”

He led the way upstairs, turning his head to look back at
her. Chelsea stared at him, feeling utterly flabbergasted. Dean had the nerve
to insist on getting his way.
But he’s used to that,
Chelsea told
herself. Well, she would show this millionaire she wasn’t going to give in
easily.

Requesting to sleep elsewhere seemed impolite even to her. But
she had to show that she wouldn’t bend to his every decision. Dean’s genuine
charm and attractive looks were a distraction, and she wasn’t going to fall for
it.

Chelsea followed him upstairs, feeling her cheeks warm from
the sight of his firm ass above her. She quickly lowered her gaze. Dean stepped
into the white carpeted hall and gestured to the far left.

“You’ll find your room there, the only room on that side,”
he said, then pointed behind him. “My room and the attic are that way. But I doubt
you’ll want to go there.”

Then he winked at her before heading back downstairs.
Chelsea swallowed, then smiled to herself and shook her head. He was definitely
unpredictable, and not at all how she expected a millionaire to act. Still, she
had to keep up her resolve.

Now that Dean was downstairs, she allowed herself to relax.
Whenever he looked at her, she had the overwhelming urge to look into his eyes.
That was something too intimate she couldn’t share with him.

Ryan once mentioned how her eyes were too intense. Giving Dean
the wrong impression wasn’t something she intended to do, although wearing the
revealing blouse was already a bad start. Today seemed to have gone well, and
he hadn’t stared at her chest. Yet.

Her cheeks burned from the memory. Chelsea couldn’t be
offended by that. It made her feel attractive. Dean was a playboy, it was
probably something he did to every woman. And somehow, she felt a sting of
jealousy from the thought of his attention being on someone else.

Chelsea rolled her eyes. Jealous over someone she’d just
met? It sounded absurd. But it meant she was moving on from Ryan.

She wandered down the hall and unwrapped the scarf from her
neck. It was tempting to choose the sleep out to assert her independence, but
as she entered the bedroom, she quickly forgot that.

It was wide, with a high ceiling, white walls and brown
carpet. In the center was a four poster double bed with a white lacy duvet.
There was a dresser opposite it, and a small nightstand with a lamp. The
shuttered window was closed, the room dimly lit by the motion sensor light
above – a touch of modern luxury to the standard, Victorian style room.

Impressed, Chelsea seated herself on the bed, finally
allowing herself to unwind. Here she was, living in the house of a millionaire.
Knowing it was temporary, she felt a pang of disappointment.
I have to make
the most of this!

It would be difficult with Dean around. No matter how hard
she tried, she couldn’t stop a burning heat of desire sluice through her body,
opening up so many naughty thoughts about him. Having him around was sexual torture,
but just maybe once they got to know each other, it would fade.

The beige carpet cushioned her bare feet as Chelsea made her
way downstairs. The house was impressively warm and cozy, and reminded her of
the home she lived in during her childhood in Newark. But instead of her
parents awaiting her downstairs, it was that sexy millionaire. Her body started
to tense from the thought of being close to Dean. She tried to think of
something else. Anything but him.

But as she reached the end of the stairs, he was there,
locking the front door for the night. As Dean turned around to face her, she
caught his gaze, looking into those brilliant green eyes. Chelsea hesitated on
the last step, wondering what he would do. And as she stood there, her thoughts
went to the feel of his lips against hers. Liquid heat burned through her and
she swallowed heavily.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, the motion igniting her
need to run her own fingers through it.

“I take it you don’t want to go to the sleep out?” he
teased.

Chelsea stared impassively at him. After seeing the decadent
room, she didn’t want to turn it down. And with the charming grin on Dean’s
face, she knew he’d wanted her to take it.
Seems like he’s the type to
always get his way.

She swallowed heavily and raised her head. “I changed my
mind.”

“Nice to see that you’re observant though,” he added. “There’s
no furniture in there, it’s a mess right now, so that room is your only
option.”

Chelsea smiled, attempting to act nonchalant. “I’m okay with
the room. This house is really nice. Spring Lake seems like a haven.”

Dean nodded, and gestured for her to take a seat in the
living room. Chelsea lowered her gaze. Hopefully she’d given the impression
that she didn’t want the room, but settled for it. It was her own way of standing
up to him, to show that she wouldn’t be affected by his charm even as she
helplessly fell into desire.

Chelsea stepped past him and strode over to the couch. It
was so tempting to look back at Dean, to lower her gaze to his broad chest. She
sat down on the couch which didn’t have her bags. Her heart was racing. A clock
ticked loudly from above the fireplace, and she glanced idly around the room
before she settled on Dean. He was standing near the door, regarding her with
amusement.

Chelsea turned away.

“It’s why I come here,” he said. “Sometimes the city life gets
too much for me.”

Chelsea felt him move behind her and flinched, imagining him
reaching out to run a hand through her hair, and caress her skin. All of her
nerves were on end as he passed her to lean against the doorjamb at the
kitchen.

She’d thought the sexual tension was bad enough at the bank
– now it had doubled in intensity. Being alone with Dean in his grand house
only encouraged her fantasies. After all, he was a millionaire, this was
professional. She wouldn’t end up in bed with him.

He made her feel alive. Chelsea couldn’t deny that her sex
drive was on overdrive around Dean.

“I, uh, tend to live here more than my place in New York,”
he admitted. His comment surprised her. As a playboy millionaire with an avid
presence in the media, he preferred to live in quietly wealthy Spring Lake,
alone in his house.  

“Would’ve thought you loved the nightlife.”

He looked at her warily. “That’s what the media portray me
as. But you’ll find I’m much more than that.”

Chelsea smiled. “Oh, we’ll see.”

A chill went through the room and she shivered, clasping her
pink tipped fingers together. Dean glanced at her. For a moment she wondered if
he would approach her, offering to warm her up. His stare lingered on her,
almost intimately.

“I know our arrangement must be slightly…awkward for you,” Dean
remarked. “I want you to enjoy your stay here. If there’s anything you need,
ask me.”

You.
Chelsea immediately thought. How could she keep
hiding it? If she continued to deny her feelings, she couldn’t relax. Dean was
sexy. It was purely lust.

But she wouldn’t give into it.

“It’d be nice to get to know you better,” Dean added. “I
know you want your privacy, as I do. Dinner will be ready at six. Hope you
aren’t vegetarian?”

Chelsea smiled. “Not at all. Haven’t had meat in months. My
ex-husband, Ryan, was a vegetarian, so I cut it off the grocery list. There’s
nothing wrong with organic vegetarian luncheon or mince. But I missed a good
steak.”

And with those words, she knew what she truly missed. The
way her life was before all the financial troubles that plagued her marriage. Money.
Freedom. The security in having a man by her side.

Dean nodded understandably, but his eyes flickered with what
seemed like jealousy – or wariness. About her.

“Was he always like that?”

“No,” Chelsea replied, wondering if she should elaborate.
When she met Dean’s gaze as he leaned against the doorjamb, she recognized the
hesitant curiosity on his face. She felt a deep fluttering in her stomach.
He’s
interested in me.

“He watched a documentary about animals, and swore off
meat,” she continued. “I complied of course. I did everything I could to make
him happy.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you.”

She shrugged, feeling ambivalent towards the memories. “He wasn’t
the one for me.”

Dean absentmindedly licked his lips, the motion drawing her
gaze to his mouth. Chelsea tried not to stare, and quickly looked away. Her
pulse was racing, her body tense from the constant need to kiss him.

“Sorry, I’ve forgotten my manners,” he announced. “Would you
like a drink? I’ll get the fire going.”

Chelsea looked at him gratefully. Obviously he wasn’t used
to having a woman live with him.
Has he ever been in a relationship?

“Of course.”

“Coffee, tea? Soda?”

The only coffee she enjoyed was from Starbucks, and there
was no hope of getting one here. One sacrifice she didn’t mind. Change was
inevitable, after all. She accepted that the moment she got into the van with
Matt.

“Just water, thank you.”

Dean’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before he stepped
out of view into the kitchen. Chelsea let out a breath, not realizing how tense
she had been. She heard him moving around in the kitchen, singing softly to
himself.

She expected him to act superior as he had when they first
met. Chelsea wondered if Dean enjoyed her company. They were getting along, but
good things didn’t last.

Then he emerged, carrying a glass of water for her. As she
reached for it, she felt Dean’s rough, warm fingers underneath hers. Her lips
immediately parted. Dean released his hold and stepped back, his brows creasing
his face.

The glass felt cool in her hand, but her thirst had faded. His
touch made her think of nothing but him. Yet she couldn’t understand the way
he’d jerked his hand back as if she’d hurt him. Chelsea hastily looked up at
him, confused by his reaction. Did he hate being around her? Or was he
tormented by the same desire coursing through her body?

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” he said, before leaving her alone
with the unlit fireplace.

Chelsea stared after him in stunned silence. This was how he
was going handle a moment’s touch? She already felt tense around him and this
wasn’t helping. Life with Ryan had been tense and she didn’t want to go through
that again. Chelsea got to her feet, intent on talking to him.

Dean needed space. His attraction to Chelsea was getting in
the way of his goal, and only reminded him not to get involved with women. As
he leaned against the kitchen counter, looking at the two door refrigerator, he
reminded himself that he only needed her to showcase he was in a long term
relationship. Once the media backed off, he would have no need to worry, and
Chelsea would be on her way.

And he decided it was time to upgrade to another
refrigerator.

Dean heard her rise up from the couch, and reflexively
looked towards the living room. Chelsea was walking towards him, her eyes
troubled.

“If I’m making you uncomfortable…”

Dean looked at her, hoping she wouldn’t move any closer. The
coat fitting tightly to her body accentuated her slim figure, and he could see
the round shape of her breasts. Hell, he didn’t feel uncomfortable, but
increasingly turned on. If she came closer, he wouldn’t be able to resist
taking her into his arms.

He cleared his throat. “I’m just letting you have your
privacy, as you requested. I’m not one for small talk.”

Her wide, curious eyes were locked onto him and he could
feel himself hardening as he imagined kissing her.
Damn
. Chelsea Levin knew
how to get to him in a subtle way, unlike the women who blatantly showed their
attraction to him.

“I don’t want to sound harsh,” she said softly. “I really am
grateful.”

“Glad to hear it.”

She looked stunned by his dismissive response, and narrowed her
eyes at him. He didn’t look at her directly, but his desire got the better of
him. Dean never needed to resist how he felt, until now.
Hell, I have to get
this over with.

Dean straightened and closed the distance between them,
lowering his face to hers.

He heard her gentle breath as her lips parted. Chelsea’s
eyes held their gaze on his, and she didn’t step away. Feeling her body so
close to his threatened to overwhelm him with need. His heart was pounding, and
desire stirred in his loins, threatening to reveal his attraction to her.

In that moment, Dean knew she wanted him to take her. A
stark moment of clarity. Chelsea
did
want him. Her indifferent display earlier
had been a façade.

But as much as he wanted to have her, he couldn’t.

“I need to start getting dinner ready,” he said, his voice
husky.

If she’d noticed the arousal in his voice, Chelsea didn’t show
it. The gleam in her eyes faded as she stepped away from him. The distance
between them cleared his mind, but didn’t stop the raging need for her.

“I imagine that’ll be a hard task for you,” she retorted,
before pivoting away from him and leaving.

Chelsea carried her bags to her room and dumped them next to
the bed, closing the door behind her. Dean was infuriating, she couldn’t understand
him. A swirl of desire tightened her stomach as she recalled the moment he
stepped close to her, his face inches from hers.

Watching his firm chest rising and falling nearly made her
whimper, longing to feel his touch. Of course, she felt crazy for imaging that.
Dean made no move to kiss her, and dismissed her without a hint of interest.

“Arrogant millionaire,” she muttered to herself. Dean
noticed her attraction from the start, and was using it to boost his ego. Men
like him were infuriating, but luckily she’d met his type enough to know how to
act. Her one mistake by showing she wanted him would be easily forgotten.

That is, if Dean could push something like that aside.

Anger tightened its hold on Chelsea. It was directed at
herself more than him, for letting Dean affect her.

Had he noticed how she tilted her head towards him in
anticipation of a kiss? It was a moment of desperate need, and excitement that Dean
made the first move.
It meant nothing.
She didn’t feel convinced. Her
stomach felt heavy. It was a mistake. All a man like him wanted was sex. But
what troubled her was the fact she wouldn’t be able to resist if he offered.

As time passed, Chelsea felt her anger lessen. Expecting
Dean to kiss her had been foolish, but her attraction to him outweighed any reason.
She wouldn’t let it happen again. Remembering Andrea, she considered calling
her but there was a knock on the door.
Dean.

“Dinner’s getting cold,” he called out to her, his voice
gentle. “Can I come in?”

“No.”

The door opened and he stood there, his eyes glimmering with
concern. Chelsea stared in surprise, but pressed her lips together firmly. Dean’s
money and status brought him whatever he wanted, and she could understand that
he’d lost his manners over the years. That didn’t mean she would fall for his
playboy ways.

And there wouldn’t be a repeat of the near kiss in the
kitchen.

“I don’t want you to think badly about me -”

“Too late for that,” she retorted.

Dean grimaced. “Look, about what happened earlier, I’m not
used to having a woman living with me. If you aren’t happy, I can send you to a
hotel to stay, free of charge.”

Chelsea observed his chiseled face with a hint of stubble.
Looking into his green eyes, she realized he was trying to make it up to her.
In some way, this was his apology. She smiled. A simple sorry would have worked,
but now she was starting to see Dean from a different perspective.

He was vulnerable in his own way, just as she was.

“I understand,” she said. “See you downstairs.”

Dean stood there for a moment, looking dejected before
closing the door. Chelsea lowered her gaze, sighing deeply. She hadn’t expected
him to apologize, and for that she respected him. Perhaps he wasn’t the type
she assumed he was.

When Chelsea made her way downstairs, she’d changed into a
red tank top and loose black pants. As she descended, she felt Dean’s eyes on
her, and looked towards the living room to see him waiting expectantly.

Chelsea smiled as she closed the distance between them,
noticing that he glanced at her chest. A typical male reaction, she thought. Yet
it filled her with a tingling desire knowing that he found her attractive.

The fire was roaring behind him, sending a comforting orange
glow across the room. The warmth touched her skin and she watched as Dean
motioned towards the dinner plates he’d set on the table between the couches.

“Figured we could eat near the warmth of the fire.”

Chelsea nodded as she sat opposite him. “Sounds good.”