What The Millionaire Wants.... Brenda Jackson

let out a whistle. “No desserts for a week? That must have been really tough,” he said, but from the grin on his face, it was clear he didn’t think it had been tough at all.

      “Trust me, it was torture,” she assured him with a laugh. “I’d have sooner given up my favorite doll than give up dessert for a week.”

      “Have a sweet tooth, do you?” he teased.

      “I was six,” she pointed out. Then recalling how his appearance had caused her to hit her candy stash, she amended her answer by saying, “I’ve gotten better.” But the memory of why she’d hit the candy stash in the first place brought reality crashing back. The man she had been sharing such tender moments with was Jackson Hawke. Her enemy. The man who was trying to foreclose on her hotel. The man with whom she’d made the crazy bet and agreed to sleep with if she lost. “It’s getting late. I’d better see about getting a taxi and heading home.”

      “What about the rest of the exhibit?” he asked.

      “I think we’ve seen everything.”

      “What about that new one—that Cajun story one.”

      “The Cajun Night Before Christmas. It’s an animated children’s story by a local author and artist. I wouldn’t have thought you’d be interested,” she said honestly. In fact, she wouldn’t have thought he’d be interested in any of the exhibits, but he’d seemed to genuinely enjoy himself. And if she were honest, she had enjoyed sharing them with him.

      “I wouldn’t have thought I’d be interested, either, but I am.”

      The man confused her. He was a mass of contradictions. Just when she had him pegged as a rich and arrogant man who would wager a fifteen-million-dollar note against a night with her in his bed, he spendt an evening looking at Christmas lights with her and listening to stories about her childhood. On the one hand, she despised the businessman who threatened to take away a part of her heritage. On the other hand, she liked the kind man who had been so gentle with the little boys and considerate of their mother. She liked the man who had laughed with her, the man who had made her first visit to the carousel since her grandfather’s death a happy one.

      “Laura?”

      The sound of him calling her by her first name snapped her out of her reverie. “Yes?”

      “You zoned out there for a minute. Either that or I shocked you into silence. Which is it?”

      “Both,” she admitted.

      “So what do you say? Do you want to see that other exhibit with me?”

      Laura hesitated. Spending more time with this man wasn’t a good idea, she told herself. She was beginning to like him, feel drawn to him. The last thing she could afford was to lose her focus when the Contessa was at stake. “I think I’ll pass. But you go on ahead.”

      “Maybe another time, then,” he said. “I’ll head back to the hotel.”

      But when the taxi arrived, Jack insisted on sharing it with her. He also insisted the driver take her home first. Once they reached her place and she’d tucked her share of the cab fare into his hand, she said, “Good night.”

      He touched her arm. “Laura?”

      She paused, turned to face him. “Yes?”

      “Thanks for tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

      And in the morning, he would be her enemy again, she reminded herself as she quickly exited the taxi and raced up the steps to her house.