The Millionaire's Forever (3 page)

“About the requirements,” she said, helping herself to a waffle. “Some of them I can be a little lenient with. Others are nonnegotiable.”

Mason scanned the list and frowned, then looked at her. “It’s not possible for you to remain here in Butler Field while I’m in Chicago.”

“Why not?” Olivia added a dollop of whipped cream to the waffle and then tasted it. “Our relationship has been great so far with this distance between us.”

“Cute.” He reached for a coffee cup and righted it before pouring himself some of the steaming hot brew. “The answer is no. We’ll share my house in Chicago.” Olivia in his home was a foregone conclusion as far as he was concerned.

She shook her head and pointed out the obvious. “My business is here.”

“Your business is portable.” He settled the coffee carafe on the table again. “You can design anywhere. I can have whatever you need, including a group of the best seamstresses, at your beck and call. I’m sure you have someone you can trust to run the day-to-day operation here.”

Impatience flashed in her eyes. “I do, but that’s beside the point.” Olivia set down her fork. “You’re assuming I can uproot my life while yours remains the same.”

“So it seems.”

“I have obligations and can’t simply disappear. I would need to be in Texas at least two days out of the week.”

The way she said it, in an almost desperate tone, made him wonder if there was something going on in her life his investigators missed. “‘Disappear’ is a strong way to phrase it.” Mason leaned back in his chair. As far as he was concerned, there were no roadblocks. Whatever she needed, he had the ability to make it happen. “My pilot can fly you back any time you need to return to handle business.”

She blew out a breath and he saw frustration flit across her face. Drumming her fingers, she said, “What about transportation around Chicago while I’m there?”

“My chauffeur can take you or I’ll buy you a damn car.” He shifted his position, leaning forward. “We’re not going to nickel-and-dime this agreement to death. I’ll see to it anything you need for your business or transportation is taken care of. Any of your personal needs, clothes, services, and the like will be provided for you as well.”

Her eyes narrowed and she looked decidedly angry.

Mason frowned. What the hell had he missed? He thought his offer was damned generous. She couldn’t possibly want more.

“And if we do end up sleeping together, will you toss some money on the bedside table afterward?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Maybe not, but it’s the way it makes me feel.” Olivia threw down the white cloth napkin, pushed her chair away from the table, and stood. “I’m not interested in anything your money can provide. I pay my own way or not at all.”

Olivia’s disinterest in his money was unlike any of the other women he’d known. Most couldn’t get enough. Cars. Jewelry. Clothes. Lavish vacation trips.

He’d assumed, wrongly it seemed now, she’d be exactly like them, that he only had to mention there were no limits to what he could offer and she’d jump at it. Olivia’s stubborn pride would be admirable if it wasn’t so damned inconvenient. He didn’t have time for this. Mason looked at his watch and rose to his feet. “Come with me.”

She frowned. “Why? We haven’t finished going over the agreement. I thought you said you had to leave for Chicago.”

“My pilot won’t leave without me. I need to pick up my dog.”

He waited for Olivia while she reluctantly retrieved the paper she’d written her list of demands on and stuck it back in her purse. She walked toward him and stopped, keeping her gaze on the door of the suite. “I’ve never been a follower.”

Reaching around her, he opened the door and motioned her out. “Meaning?”

He joined her in the hallway and together they headed to the elevator. Once they entered and the doors closed, she said, “You and I are both leaders. Used to being the one on top.”

He smirked. “I’m assuming that’s a business metaphor?”

She rubbed her forehead. “If you and I do come to an agreement, it will be business only. I guess I’m concerned that one or both of us will end up hurt if we go through with this arrangement.”

The elevator doors slid open into the lobby and they walked to the front of the hotel, where Mason handed the valet the ticket for the Ferrari. “I have no intention of deliberately hurting you.”

“You’re not concerned I’ll hurt you?”

He looked down at her, not following her line of thinking. “Why should I be?”

“You might fall madly in love with me and end up brokenhearted once our arrangement ends.”

The valet parked the car in front of them and passed Mason the key. When the valet stepped back, Mason opened the passenger door for Olivia. With one hand on the roof, he leaned slightly down, catching and holding her gaze. “You forget I don’t have a heart.”

Fall in love with Olivia
. What a damned ridiculous idea. He wasn’t the falling-in-love type and he sure as hell wouldn’t fall for Olivia, even if he were. He wanted only one thing from her—that goddamned miserable land.

He shut the door and moved unhurriedly around to the driver’s side. In the car, Olivia’s perfume was even more intoxicating than it had been in the hotel room. She opened her little black purse and extracted a tube of red lipstick. As she slid it slowly and sensuously across her full lips, Mason amended his earlier thought. He only wanted
two
things from her. Getting both of them would satisfy the hell out of him.

Chapter Three

Olivia wasn’t familiar with the road Mason took away from Butler Field. She hadn’t paid much attention to the area they passed as the car ate up the miles because it had taken all her strength to stop fuming about the man behind the wheel. It galled her that because of her lie, she’d tangled up her life. Again. Some days it felt as if she couldn’t do anything right. She should have known better, but what was done was done. Plus, it bothered her that she had to deal with the added issue of the spark she felt around him. Sparks toward a guy she didn’t even like.

Every time his thigh muscle contracted to hit the brakes or the gas pedal, she was acutely aware of the strength there. His presence filled up the car the same way it had the elevator.

She hated the attraction she felt toward him. Attraction she knew stemmed from the past. In high school she’d ignored it, had known giving in to it would be as dangerous as standing in the middle of traffic. Every time she’d looked into his eyes back then, she’d known he wasn’t like the other boys. Inexperienced. Unsure.

He could have taken her body places she’d never been, places she’d longed to go, but the bargaining-with-the-universe good girl she’d always tried to be let fear get in the way. She’d needed to be in control in the hopes that she could stop what was happening in her life. So she’d stayed in her world and he’d stayed in his. But now their worlds had collided, and already the intensity of the dislike she felt toward him, added to the heat of her former attraction, was more than she’d imagined it would be. And just as dangerous.

At least twenty miles passed before Mason bypassed a fork in the road that curved and would have taken them back the way they came. Instead, he took a sharp right onto a narrow, paved road, the Ferrari coming to a stop outside an impressive stone gate.

“We’re almost there,” he said as pressed a series of numbers into the keypad on a pole by the gate.

The gate swung inward and Mason eased the car forward. Past a clump of trees, a house came into view, and Olivia gaped. The home looked like a replica of the Magnolia Gardens plantation house she’d seen as a child when her family went to Charleston, South Carolina, for a vacation. “Your dog is here? Is this your place? This doesn’t seem like your taste.”

“Yes, my dog is here and no, it’s not my home.” His gaze dropped to her lips, lingered there.

Same old Mason. Stare at a girl with those mesmerizing eyes until she couldn’t think for herself. But there was too much water under the bridge and too much at stake for her to let some silly high school fascination take over.

He gave a wicked smile. “You don’t know a thing about my tastes, but I’d be happy to teach you.”

Olivia fought to keep her voice on an even keel and ignored his suggestive offer. “Is this a home for one of your…lady friends?”

“A mistress? Here?” He laughed. “Hardly.” He put the car in Park and opened the door.

Olivia followed suit and drank in the view before her. Purple, blue, and pink flowers lined the edges of the walkway leading up to the porch. Thick ferns in hanging baskets filled the spaces between the white columns.

An earlier rain left droplets of water clinging to the various roses. Dogwood trees dotted the landscaped yard. On one side of the wide porch, between two rocking chairs, a fawn-colored Great Dane lumbered to her feet and bounded down the steps to greet Mason. Rising on her hind feet, she put her paws on his shoulders, her tail wagging back and forth in delight.

“Down, girl,” he ordered, affectionately rubbing behind her ears. Taking the steps two at a time, Mason bounded up to the front door and pushed it open, pausing to wait for her.

Olivia slowed her steps when an elderly gray-haired woman appeared in the doorway and greeted Mason warmly. Mason introduced the woman as Martha, then disappeared inside the home. The older woman gave Olivia a long look and Olivia realized how she knew her. She was Martha Evans, the grandmother of two of the boys convicted with Mason. She’d been the only person during the hearing to stand up and loudly defend all the boys against the sea of people crying out for them to be punished.

The older woman’s smile faded and though she didn’t look unfriendly, she certainly didn’t look welcoming, either. If she had to hazard a guess, Olivia thought Martha’s sudden reserve might be due to the fact that it was her father who’d made sure the boys were caught and later prosecuted. She knew that during their stint in the facility, Martha’s grandson Adam had died unexpectedly.

Martha had abruptly left town after that and since she’d never been seen again, like others, Olivia had assumed the woman had moved to another state, but apparently, that wasn’t the case. “Hi, Martha.” Olivia gave her a tentative smile.

The smile wasn’t returned. “Olivia.” Martha pinched her lips together for a moment, then said, “Come on in.”

In the living room, wide ceiling fans lazily stirred the air. A red-and-yellow-flowered sofa pressed against a wall below a large painting of a storm crashing over a seawall. In front of the sofa, matching chairs in red and yellow plaid faced a coffee table where a half-finished puzzle waited. Tiffany lamps were situated on both end tables, and scores of books populated the built-in shelves on either side of a large-screen television. Olivia admired the elegant beauty of the room.

“If you’re wondering how I could afford a place like this, I couldn’t. Mason and the others had it built for me,” Martha said.

“I wasn’t wondering.”

Martha crossed her arms and this time, her look was definitely unfriendly. “You could have prevented what happened to my grandsons and the others. Why didn’t you tell the truth about that night?”

The harshness of the other woman’s tone caught Olivia by surprise. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Enough, Martha,” Mason said quietly, but with authority. He turned his focus to Olivia. “Make whatever phone calls you need to so we can head to the airport.”

Agitated about Martha’s accusation and Mason’s high-handed remark, Olivia said, “I can’t simply run away. I have people I need to notify. I’ve got to arrange for mail pickup and I need to pack some things.” She shook her head. “I’ll need at least two days and that’s after we finish going over my list and if I even agree to go with you, which I haven’t done.”

“You have one hour.”

Martha quickly excused herself after another look at Mason.

“That’s not possible.” Olivia tried to find her inner peace. Her horoscope said she’d deal with a trying situation today, and it was right on target. “I have a photo shoot for dresses I need to reschedule as well as a conference call with a fabric supplier this afternoon.”

“You have fifty-nine minutes remaining.”

Her anger trampled the minimal peace she’d managed to find. “I think the dislike I feel for you is going to grow into full-blown hatred, Mason. I don’t work for you. I don’t follow your orders. This is where I tell you that you can go f—”

“Do you know what happened to Martha’s grandson?”

Olivia took a breath in an attempt to rein in her anger. “He died while he was at the juvenile center. He had a heart attack from an undiagnosed heart condition.”

Mason’s lips twisted. “Is that still the story making the rounds?”

Her stomach did a flip at the anger in his voice. “I read about it in the paper.”

“Of course.” He turned away, but not before Olivia saw the bitterness in his eyes.

“Martha,” he called out, “arrange to have the Ferrari returned. I’ll take your car to the airport so I can haul Red. Have someone pick it up for you.”

The older woman walked back into the room and handed Mason a small canvas bag. “Red’s toys and some treats I got for her.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you the next time you come to Chicago.” He whistled, and Red bounded toward him. As he walked out of the house with the Great Dane following, he said over his shoulder, “Fifty-five minutes, Olivia.”

She marched after him, determined he was going to see her point. “Like I said, I never agreed to go to Chicago with you. I need at least two days.”

“You know as well as I do you’ve got no choice in the matter if you want to protect your business. You know you’re coming to Chicago, so let’s not waste either of our time, hmm? I’m a man who likes to make every second count.”

She clenched her teeth together. How the hell was she supposed to upend her entire life in less than an hour? Damn Mason. She got into the car with a huff and glared at his profile as he drove to her house. She heard the dog moving restlessly in the backseat, mirroring the same restlessness she felt within herself. This was ridiculous. Going to Chicago might be part of the package, but she didn’t have to do it now. Once they got to her house, she’d take a minute to calm herself and then explain to Mason why she needed a couple of days before she could be ready to leave so he would understand.

Fifteen minutes later, Mason pulled into her driveway and shot her a look, then tapped his wristwatch. She debated for a moment on whether to tell him to go to hell as she hopped out of the car. But in the end, she supposed it worked out for the best that she’d simply slammed the car door and marched into her tidy Cape Cod–style home instead.

The moment she entered, she received a call from the rehabilitation center about a payment and that had settled the “leave now or tell Mason off” dilemma. Her bank account was the swaying factor. She couldn’t afford for Mason to call a press conference and expose her lie. She couldn’t lose her credibility. Her father’s recovery was on the line.

Dragging a suitcase from the closet, Olivia fumed while she packed. Every which way she turned led her toward Mason. She hated that money was the factor that decided her fate.

Almost every penny Heather Ramsey had paid for the wedding dress Olivia designed had gone to taking care of the balance already owed to the center for her father’s care. So she was not quite back to square one financially. But the financial pressure would all go away the minute she could fulfill some of the demand waiting in the wings for her dresses. She just needed a little more time, and it looked like for now, her time belonged to Mason.

She hated not being in control of her life. She projected a tough independence and she wanted people to believe that. No one knew it hid a fear that life might once again deal her the kind of wracking pain she’d experienced when she’d lost her mother. There had been little emotional support. Her friends had meant well, but hadn’t known what to say and had eventually stopped calling, stopped coming by. Her father had withdrawn into himself. She’d learned to pretend. To be the girl who was okay, the one who hid the hurt and didn’t lean on anyone but herself.

…

The woman has a body that demands attention
. While he’d waited for her, Olivia had changed into a pair of figure-hugging shorts that made him think about taking them off and putting himself on her instead. He knew he needed to be careful. She was the daughter of his enemy, and he wanted her with a passion that would take him down if he didn’t keep it under tight control. He’d seen more than one man ruined because of a woman. Not him. Nothing would deter him from what he intended to do, no matter how damned sexy Olivia Carter was. Or how long those shorts made her legs look.

She pulled a suitcase on wheels behind her as she left the house, her lips tight with disapproval. Mason got out and opened the trunk, then took the case from her, easily swinging it into place.

“My life is officially scrambled thanks to you. Anything else?” The anger flushing her cheeks made her eyes look brighter.

His body was screaming for him to reach for her, to haul her against him and quiet the hunger. He closed the trunk and allowed his gaze to travel across her womanly hips and up to where her breasts were outlined in the form-fitting T-shirt she now wore. He could almost picture what they looked like minus the bra visible under the thin material. “Unless you want to kiss me, no, that’s all.” Taunting her was probably not the wisest idea, but he wanted to throw her as off-kilter as he felt. He wanted to see the real Olivia Carter beneath the mask.

“Kiss you? Why would I want to kiss you?”

“Do you think that I can’t tell that you’re attracted to me?” Mason shifted as his body painfully reacted to her nearness, wanting to find relief with the woman in front of him.

Olivia ran her hands up the length of his shirt and stopped when she reached the collar. Flipping it up straight, she tugged, using the edges of the material to pull his head lower. “This is one woman who won’t fall for your sex appeal. I have too much to lose. I’m no fool. What was it you said about yourself? That you had no heart? So save yourself the effort, Mason. I won’t kiss you or fall into your bed.” She released his collar and stepped back.

It’d been a long time since a woman had told him no, a long time since he’d had to give chase.

She crossed her arms over her breasts and Mason jerked his gaze upward. “I answered the question of whether or not I wanted to kiss you.” She smirked. “I can tell that you don’t like my answer. Do you want to try again? Any more questions?”

“Just one more, sweetheart. The night of the fire, why didn’t you tell your father that I was with you?”

…

Fear raced along Olivia’s spine. The same fear that crept into her whenever she tried too hard to push her thoughts back to that night. With the pain of her mother’s death only a few months old, she’d gone to that party with the intention of getting drunk. Hoping she could drown out the pain, hoping at least for a little while to fill the aching loss threatening to swallow her whole. She lifted her chin. “I had too much to drink and I barely remember it.”

He moved around the car and opened the door, waiting for her to get in. “But you do remember something.”

“Not much. My state of undress. I was upset the next morning because I couldn’t remember anything. I didn’t think I’d drunk enough to black out. I thought someone might have slipped something in my drink, so I asked Seth’s sister because we came to the party together, but she said nothing happened. I asked around but no one saw anything out of the ordinary.”