Matchless Millionaires: An Improper Affair

After some time, a young waitress in a low-cut top came around to take an order of drinks. The waitress smiled invitingly at Ryan, who looked as if he didn’t mind the attention, and Kelly thought sourly that bare boobs were apparently acceptable on anyone not named Hartley. She put in an order for a green-apple martini—one of Brenda’s favorites. After that, she remained determinedly distracted, smiling an invitation at the men who happened to look her way.

Eventually, though, Erica and Greg announced they had to get back to the kids.

When everyone rose from the table, Erica leaned close. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Kelly smiled reassuringly. “I’m having the time of my life, can’t you tell?”

With a look of semiserious warning, Erica turned toward the door and Kelly took the opportunity to walk back to the bar and settle herself on a stool, leaving Ryan alone at the table.

Ryan’s presence had been keeping men away, she thought irritably, and it was time she did something about it.

After she’d ordered another fabulous martini— why hadn’t she discovered them earlier in her life?—she smiled at the attractive man sitting next to her. She’d noticed he’d looked her way occasionally since he’d walked into the bar fifteen minutes ago, and now she met those looks straight on.

He looked to be around thirty, with sandy-blond hair and blue eyes. If it had been wintertime, she would have said he was a ski bum, drawn to the slopes nearby. Tahoe attracted those with money to burn to its slopes, lake and nearby casinos.

“Buy you a drink?” he offered.

She smiled back. “Thank you.” Then she leaned closer, conspiratorially. “You’re more likable than the other guy who offered to buy me a drink tonight.”

She used the term offered loosely. Ryan, in typical high-handed fashion, had announced he was settling the bill and that was that.

The man next to her smiled back. “I noticed you the minute I walked in.”

She learned his name was Tate and he was another money-to-burn fun seeker vacationing in Tahoe.

All the while, however, she could feel Ryan’s eyes boring into the back of her head.

She took another sip of her drink, her third, and thought she had a nice little buzz going.

She cast a sidelong look at Tate, then one at Ryan, who still sat sullenly, beer in front of him, at the table they’d shared with Erica and Greg.

The contrast between the two men couldn’t have been more apparent. One was a blond thrill seeker, the other a dark angel with a mission. And the more she talked and flirted with Tate, the more she thought she preferred the former.

She smiled languidly at her bar buddy. He was a nice man, she decided with a warm rush. He was full of effusive compliments that bolstered her confidence, unlike another man she could name.

She leaned in, resting her hand on Tate’s arm.

Ryan’s jaw hardened.

She was tipsy and getting more inebriated by the minute.

Of course, the smooth-talking charmer Kelly was flirting with was enjoying every second of it. Likely, he was waiting for the moment when she was so far gone he could convince her to head home to bed with him.

On top of it all, the guy had thrown him a couple of amused looks, as if he knew he was an interloper and was enjoying the fact.

Ryan’s hand flexed on his drink. He itched to slug Prince Charming.

He knew the type. Growing up under Webb Sperling’s roof had taught him to identify it.

He told himself he didn’t care, but then Kelly leaned toward the guy, laughing, her eyes too bright, and Ryan downed the last of his drink and rose.

As he walked toward the bar, he told himself he was just irritated this was the thanks he got for toiling for her all week.

“Are you here with someone?” Charming said to Kelly, noting his approach.

“No—”

“Yes,” Ryan cut in, “she’s with me.” Kelly swung around. “No, I’m not.” She looked beyond him. “Where are Erica and Greg?” “They left,” he responded flatly.

“Oh, right.”

He looked at her closely. She’d clearly passed tipsy and was well on her way to ditsy.

He turned then and sized up the guy she was with.

There was a reason, he thought, that the initials for Prince Charming were P. C. The guy looked as if he never put a foot wrong—as if he knew exactly how to ingratiate himself with women.

“Tate Henderson,” the guy said, offering his hand.

“Ryan Sperling,” he responded, ignoring the hand.

Tate’s face registered surprise. “Ryan Sperling? The guy behind El Ray Technology?”

“None other,” he responded curtly.

Tate, however, became more animated. “I’ve heard of you. You’re a legend in the cable world, not to mention a favorite on Wall Street. Those shares you offered—“

Kelly stifled a yawn with her hand.

Ryan glanced at her. He was putting a damper on her tête-à-tête with Tate and she clearly wasn’t happy about it.

Ryan didn’t mind invoking his wealth and power when it suited his purposes, and now definitely suited his purposes.

Ryan signaled the bartender and leaned forward, wedging himself between Tate and Kelly to order another drink, tonic water that he intended to sip while he kept an eye on Kelly’s Brenda Hartley impersonation.

Turning back after he’d ordered, he took the opportunity to murmur to Tate, “Sweetness is on her way to Happyland. I’m here to make sure she gets home safely—and alone.”

Tate raised his eyebrows. “What’s she to you?”

“There’s a family connection.”

The other man’s lips quirked up. “It’s always something like that.”

Tate downed the rest of his drink, then leaned back to reach into the pocket of his jeans.

“Leave it,” Ryan said. “I’ll settle the tab.”

Tate gave a brief nod of acknowledgement and slid off his bar stool as Ryan stepped back from the bar.