Three Rich Men: House of Midnight Fantasies / Forced to the Altar / The Millionaire's Pregnant Mistress. Michelle Celmer

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      He’d be damned if he’d bed some Georgia debutante, and he had every intention of persuading her to leave. He wasn’t exactly sure how he would manage it, but he would. He definitely would.

      Selene had been granted a delay in the official meeting, at least for the time being. According to Ella, the plantation’s owner hadn’t requested an audience, nor had he joined them for dinner. She hadn’t run into him on her way to retire for the night, but earlier she had heard him passing through the corridor outside the bedroom, followed by a closing door. The sound of creaking floorboards, as if he’d been pacing, continued for a time before ceasing a few moments ago. Now if only she could get some sleep.

      But sleep seemed as elusive as her employer. The fans only served to stir the warm air, and the open windows provided little relief. She’d tossed and turned so much that her thin white gown was practically wrapped around her neck. And although she’d taken a bath before turning in, at this rate she would probably need another. She couldn’t imagine how people survived before the advent of air-conditioning. But then they couldn’t miss what they’d never had.

      What Selene really needed at the moment was some fresh air to provide some temporary comfort. On that thought, she pushed out of the bed, opened the French doors and stepped barefoot onto the veranda, hoping she didn’t encounter any splinters jutting up from the wooden decking as she moved to the edge of the balcony. With her hands braced on the black railing, she turned her gaze to the three-quarter moon hanging overhead and the host of stars scattered across the midnight sky.

      The temperature had mercifully dropped to a more tolerable level, the gentle wind she’d been seeking flowing over her damp body and ruffling her unruly hair. The bayou’s summer sounds surrounded her—chirping locusts and bellowing bullfrogs. She inclined her head and listened for the rush of the Mississippi that knit through the terrain not far away. She only heard the rustle of brush from below. No doubt, the swamps were full of nasty creatures. Probably a few bobcats and alligators with large, treacherous teeth waiting to snap up unsuspecting wildlife. Definitely snakes slithering about, coiled and ready to strike. Maybe even a wolf foraging the forest, searching for prey.

      A brief image flashed in her mind—another mental photo shoot of someone watching her—followed by a low, rugged male voice saying, “Too hot to sleep?”

      Two

      Selene spun to her right to find a dark figure seated in a wicker settee at the end of the veranda a few feet away. She released a ragged breath, one hand resting on her chest above the gown’s scooped neck, the other gripping the rail tighter for support. “You startled me.”

      “Obviously.” His tone dripped with sarcasm.

      Wonderful. A midnight encounter with a jerk. She was so looking forward to this. “I take it you’re Mr. Morrell.”

      “Correct.”

      That relieved Selene somewhat, even if his attitude needed adjusting. At least he was a real man, not some ghostly apparition.

      What now? She could bid him good-night and return to her room. Or she could get the official introduction out of the way then go back to bed. With that in mind, she shored up her courage and moved closer, the moonlight providing enough illumination for her to make out a few details. Details such as he couldn’t be much beyond his mid-thirties and not the curmudgeon she’d envisioned.

      His slightly wavy dark hair fell below his chin and his lips formed a line as hard and unyielding as his jaw that was covered in evening whiskers. Then her gaze came to rest on his eyes. She suspected the same eyes that had flashed in her mind upon her arrival. Unearthly blue, predatory eyes.

      She could also see he wasn’t wearing a shirt, while she was wearing a cotton gown that provided little cover. Not necessarily the proper attire for her first encounter with her boss, but she might as well get it over with.

      Selene finally gathered enough wherewithal to step forward and offer her hand along with a forced smile. “I’m your new employee, Selene Winston.”

      “I know who you are.” His gaze tracked down her body slowly in a blatant size-up before he centered it on her extended hand. After a slight hesitation, he took her palm into his grasp and curled his fingers around hers. Selene reeled from the bolt of sensation, the abject pain emanating from him. A deep, wounding pain.

      She quickly dropped her hand and took a step back, as if she’d suffered an electrical shock. In reality, she had. She’d lived with the “gift” for as long as she could remember, keeping it concealed from the world. Well-bred Southern girls didn’t read minds; they read the society page. But in all her years, never before had she been empathetic. She’d been able to discern others thoughts through imagery and occasionally words, but she’d never been able to channel feelings. Until him.

      “It’s nice to meet you,” she murmured once she again had control over her voice.

      He didn’t return the greeting, yet he did continue to stare at her, making her want to twitch where she stood. Making her want to run from him even though she felt oddly drawn to him. Drawn to his aura. His pain.

      She struggled for something casual to say despite the uncomfortable situation. “I’d appreciate your input on how you want the restorations handled. Not right now, of course, since I need something to write with. Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day, if you prefer.” Heaven help her, she was rambling like an idiot.

      He failed to respond for a few moments until he finally said, “Only one thing you need to know. I expect perfection.”

      Selene knew all about perfection. She’d lived the perfect life with the perfect family. Had gone to perfect schools and had married the perfect man. The perfect lying bastard, she corrected. “I’ll do my best to please you.”

      He laced his hands atop his bare belly. “That remains to be seen. I’m not easy to please.”

      That certainly didn’t surprise Selene considering Ella’s assessment that Adrien Morrell was a “hard case.” She would have to concur. And after her reaction to him when they’d touched, she sensed that perhaps he had his reasons. “Do you have any particular preferences?”

      He inclined his head and surveyed her face from forehead to chin, settling his gaze on her mouth. “In reference to what?”

      Another image filtered into her mind, regardless of her attempts to stop it. She only caught a glimpse of his thoughts, but enough to realize those thoughts involved questionable considerations involving naked bodies. Her naked body.

      Selene couldn’t fathom why her well-honed ability to block this kind of thing failed her now. Couldn’t understand why he would be fantasizing about her, a woman he’d just met. More disturbing, she couldn’t comprehend why that excited her.

      “I’m referring to how you would like the restoration handled,” she said once the images dissolved.

      He shifted slightly in the chair. “I prefer not to be involved at all. Unless you have no idea what you’re doing.”

      That made her bristle, her defenses on high alert. “Any reason why you believe I wouldn’t know what I’m doing?”

      “You’ve given me no evidence to believe that you do.”

      How was she going to answer? Easy. СКАЧАТЬ