Millionaire: Needed for One Month: Thirty Day Affair

Alone, in front of the vast windows overlooking the lake. Behind him, the water silvered under the rising moon and the star-swept sky seemed to stretch on forever. Something inside her wanted to go back to him. To somehow make him less solitary.

But she knew he wouldn't welcome it.

For whatever reason, Nathan Barrister had become a man so used to solitude he didn't want or expect anything to change.

Well, Keira wasn't going to allow him to get away with an anonymous donation. She was going to make sure the town got the chance to thank him properly for what he had done for them with a click of a pen.

Whether he liked it or not, Keira was going to drag Nathan into the heart of Hunter's Landing.

By the next evening, Keira was running on adrenaline. She'd hardly been able to sleep the night before; memories of Nathan Barrister and the feel of his hands on her had kept her tossing and turning through some pretty detailed fantasies that kept playing through her mind.

Ridiculous, really. She knew the man would be here for only a month. She knew he wasn't interested—he'd made that plain enough every time he looked at her. But, for some reason, her body hadn't gotten the message.

She felt hot and itchy and … way more needy than she'd like to admit.

Apparently it had been way too long since she'd had a man in her life. But then, the last man she'd been interested in had made such a mess of her world that she'd pretty much sworn off the Y chromosome.

Then grumpy, rich and gorgeous Nathan Barrister, rolled into her life and made her start rethinking a few things. Not a good idea.

She spun her straw through her glass of iced tea and watched idly as ice cubes rattled against the sides of the glass. It felt good to sit down. She'd been running all day, first calling an emergency meeting of the town council so she could tell them about Nathan's donation. And, she smiled as she remembered, Eva Callahan had behaved as expected, slumping into a chair and waving a stack of papers at her face to stave off a faint.

Once the meeting was over she'd had to take care of a few other things, like depositing that check, talking to the contractor about the renovations to the clinic, settling a parking dispute between Harry's Hardware and Frannie's Fabrics and finally, coming here to the Lakeside Diner.

Being mayor of a small town was exhausting, and it was really hardly more than an honorary office. Her duties consisted mainly of presiding over town council meetings once a month, playing referee to adults old enough to solve their own problems and trying to raise money for civic projects. And yet, she seemed to always be busy. She didn't have a clue how the mayors of big cities managed to have a life at all.

But then, Keira thought, isn't that the way she wanted it? Keeping busy gave her too little time to think about how her life had turned out so differently from what she'd expected. She picked a French fry off her plate and popped it into her mouth. Chewing, she glanced around the crowded diner and took a deep breath. Here, no matter what else was going on in her life, Keira could find comfort.

The Lakeside Diner was a tiny coffee shop and more or less a touchstone in Keira's life, the one constant she'd always been able to count on. Her parents had owned and operated the diner before her and she herself had started working here, clearing tables, when she was twelve.

Then, when her parents died, Keira had taken over, because there was her younger sister, Kelly, to provide for. Now, she had a manager to take care of the day-to-day running of the diner, but when she needed a place to sit and recharge, she always came here.

The red Naugahyde booths were familiar, as was the gleaming wood counter and the glass covered cake and pie dishes, the records in the jukebox her father had loved hadn't been changed in twenty years. Memories crowded thick in this diner. She closed her eyes and could almost see her dad behind the stove, grinning out at her mom running the cash register.

This diner—like Hunter's Landing—was home.

“Hey, Keira. Can I see it?”

She opened her eyes, startled as an older woman slid onto the bench seat opposite her. Sallye Carberry grinned, and held out one hand dotted with silver rings.

“See what?” Keira asked.

“The check, of course,” Sallye prompted. “Everyone in town is talking about it. Margie Fontenot told me that she'd never seen anything quite so pretty as all those zeros. I just wanted an up close peek at it.”

“Sorry, Sallye,” Keira said, taking a sip of her tea. “Already deposited it.”

“Well, darn.” The older woman slumped back against the seat and huffed out a disappointed breath that waved the curl of bangs on her forehead. “That's a bummer.”

Keira laughed.

Sallye waved one beringed hand. “That's okay, I'll settle for meeting the man himself. I hear he's a real looker. He is coming to the potluck so we can all get a look at him—I mean thank him—isn't he?”

There was the question.

She knew damn well Nathan wouldn't want anything to do with the town or their potluck dinner. She knew he didn't want their thanks and was pretty sure he wouldn't want to see her again any time soon. So anyone with a grain of sense would keep her distance, right?

The last thing she should do was go back to the lakeside mansion to see a man who wanted nothing to do with her.

And yet …

Keira checked her silver wristwatch, saw she had a couple of hours until six and took one last sip of her tea. Sliding from the booth, she looked down at her late mother's best friend and nodded. “He'll be there,” she said firmly.

Three

Nathan felt like a prisoner.

And damn it, he shouldn't.

He preferred being alone.

But this kind of alone was too damned quiet.

He stepped out onto the deck overlooking Lake Tahoe and let the cold wind buffet him. His hair lifted in the icy breeze, and he narrowed his eyes as he stared out over a snowy landscape. Silence pounded at him. Even the soft sigh of the lake water slapping against the deck pilings seemed overly loud in the eerie stillness.

The problem was, Nathan thought, he wasn't used to this kind of alone. Other people considered him a recluse but, even in his insular world, there was more … interaction.

He traveled constantly, moving from one of his family's hotels to the next. And on those trips he dealt with room service personnel, hotel managers, maids, waiters, the occasional guest. No matter how he tried to avoid contact with people, there were always some who he was forced to speak to.

Until now.

The plain truth was he hated being completely alone even more than he hated being in a crowd.

His fists tightened on the varnished wood railing until he wouldn't have been surprised to see the imprint of his fingers digging into the wood. He was used to people jumping when he spoke. To his employees practically doing backflips to accommodate his wishes. He liked dropping in on his favorite casino in Monte Carlo and spending the night with whatever blonde, brunette or redhead was the most convenient. He liked the sounds of champagne bottles popping and crystal clinking, and the muted sound of sophisticated laughter. He was accustomed to picking up a phone and ordering a meal. To calling his pilot to get his jet ready to leave at a moment's notice.

Yet now he knew he couldn't go anywhere.

And that was the real irritant chewing at him. Nathan hadn't stayed in any one place for more than three or four days since he was a kid. Which was exactly how he wanted it. Knowing that he was trapped on top of this damned mountain for a damned month was enough to make him want to call his pilot now.

Why he didn't was a mystery to him.

“Hunter, you really owe me big time,” he said and didn't know whether to look toward heaven or hell as he uttered the words.

Hunter Palmer had been a good guy, but reaching out from beyond the grave to put Nathan through this should have earned him a seat in hell.

“Why did I come here in the first place?” he whispered, asking himself the question and knowing he didn't have an answer.

Old loyalties was not a good enough reason.

It has been ten years since Hunter had died. Ten years since Nathan had even thought of those days, of the friend he'd lost too young. Of the five others who had been such a huge part of his life. He'd moved on. Built his world just the way he wanted it and didn't give a damn what anyone else had to say about it. That pledge the Samurai had made to one another? It seemed to come from another lifetime.

He thought briefly of the framed photos of the Seven Samurai, as they'd called themselves back then, hanging here in the upstairs hall. Every time he passed them, he deliberately looked away. Studying the past was for archaeologists. Not barristers. He didn't owe Hunter or any of the others anything. College friendships were routinely left behind as life continued on. So why in hell was he here?

A bird skimmed the water's surface, its wings stretched wide, its shadow moving on the lake as if it had a life of its own. “And even the damn bird is freer than I am.”

Pushing away from the rail, he turned his back on the expansive view of nature's beauty and walked back into what he was already considering his cell.

He glanced at the television, then rejected the idea of turning it on. There were plenty of books to read, and even a state-of-the-art office loft upstairs but he couldn't imagine sitting still long enough to truly accomplish anything, at the moment, all he could do was prowl. He could take a walk, but he might just keep on walking, right down the mountain to the airport where his private Gulfstream waited for him.

“I'm never gonna make the whole damn month,” he muttered, shoving one hand through his hair and turning toward the table where his laptop sat open.

He took a seat, hit a few keys and checked his e-mail as soon as the Internet connection came through. Two new letters were there, one each from the managers of the London and Tokyo Barrister hotels.

Once he'd dealt with their questions about his schedule, Nathan was at a loss again. There was only so much work he could do long-distance. After all, if he wasn't there in person, he couldn't scowl at his employees.

When the doorbell rang, he jumped to his feet. This is what he'd come to, then. Grateful for an interruption. For someone—anyone—to interrupt the silence that continued to claw at him. He closed the laptop and stalked across the great room to the front door.

When he opened the door, he said, “I should have guessed it would be you.”

Keira grinned, slipped past him into the house and then turned to look at him. “You're going to need a coat.”

Nathan closed the door and didn't admit even to himself that he was glad to see her. As annoying as she was, she was, at least, another voice in this damned quiet.

“I'm warm enough, thanks.”

“No, I mean, the potluck is outside so you'll really need a coat.” She turned again and walked into the great room as if she belonged there. Her voice echoed in the high-ceilinged room and her footsteps sounded like a heartbeat. “We could have held the dinner at the courthouse, but it's a little cramped and the band said it would be easier to set up outside.”

“The band?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, looking around as if she hadn't just seen the place the day before, “it's a local group. Super Leo. They play mostly rock but they'll take requests, too, and they're good guys. They all grew up here.”

“Fascinating,” Nathan said, moving to the edge of the foyer, leaning one shoulder against the wall and crossing one foot over the other as he watched her move. Damn, the woman looked good.

It was the solitude getting to him. The only explanation why he was interested in a short, mouthy redhead when ordinarily, he never would have looked at her twice. The fact that he'd only been “enjoying” this solitude for a day didn't really matter.

“The town council approved new lights for this year, so the square will be bright as day with plenty of room for dancing. When I left they were already setting the food out on the tables and the band was tuning up, so we really should get going if you don't want to miss anything.”

“Miss anything?” Nathan shook his head. “I told you yesterday that I had no interest in going to your town party or whatever.”

“Well, I didn't think you meant it.”

“Why not?”

“Who wouldn't want to go to a party?”

“Me.” Now, if the party were in St. Tropez, or Gstaad, he'd be right there. But a small-town party in the middle of Nowhere, U.S.A.? No, thanks.

She stared at him as if he'd just grown another head. Then she shrugged and went on as if he hadn't said a word.

“The town council was incredibly grateful for your donation.”

“You told them?” An uncomfortable itch settled between his shoulder blades. He didn't mind donating money. It was simply a part of who he was. But he preferred anonymity. He didn't want gratitude. He just wanted to be left alone.

But even as he thought this, he realized that he'd been complaining about the solitude just a minute before.

“Of course I told them,” she said, picking up a throw pillow from the couch and fluffing it before she dropped it back into place. “Who am I, Santa? Dropping money into the town coffers without an explanation? I don't think so. They all want to meet you, to thank you for your generosity.”

“Not necessary.”

“Oh, but it really is,” she said and reached down to straighten a stack of magazines strewn across the coffee table. “If you don't come to the potluck so everyone can meet you …”

“Yeah?”

She shrugged. “Then I guess everyone will just have to come to you.”

Nathan sighed. She was blackmailing him into attending her damned town function. And doing a pretty good job of it, too. If he didn't go, he had no doubt that she'd lead droves of citizens up the mountain to intrude on the lodge. He'd be hip-deep in people before he knew it.

“Extortion?”

“Let's call it judicial negotiations.”

“And if I go to the party, you'll leave me alone.”

She held up one hand like a Girl Scout salute and said, “I so solemnly swear.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Gee, attractive, crabby and smart.”

A smile twitched at his mouth, but he fought it into submission. No point in encouraging her any.

“Fine. I'll go.”

“Wow,” she said, patting her hand over her heart, “I'm all excited.”

Her green eyes were shining and a smile curved her tantalizing mouth. The gray sweater she wore beneath a black leather jacket outlined the swell of her breasts, and her faded jeans and battered boots made her look too tempting to a man who was going to be trapped on a damn mountaintop for a month.

So Nathan got a grip on his hormonal overdrive and turned to the hall closet. He opened it, snatched out his brown leather jacket and pulled it on over his dark green cashmere sweater.

A few minutes ago, he'd been complaining that he was too alone. Now, he was going to a block party, of all things.

Be careful what you wish for.

Keira sneaked glances at him as she drove down the mountain. His profile was enough to make her heart stutter and when he turned his head to look at her, she almost drove into a tree.

“Whoops.” She over-straightened and her snow tires slipped a little on an icy patch of road.

“Was this a ploy to get me on the road long enough to kill me?”

“Everything's fine,” she said, tightening her grip on the wheel. “But would you like to take a look around before we head into town?”

“No, thanks.” He checked the gold watch on his left wrist. “I can only spare an hour or two.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Ah. Good reason.” Keira smiled and followed the curve of the road. There was a steep drop-off beyond the white barrier and Nathan glanced down into the abyss.

“Look,” he said, “I'm only coming to this party to avoid the alternative.”

“Don't worry, you'll be glad you came.”

“Why do you care if I attend this party or not?”

“Why?” She risked another glance at him as soon as the road straightened, then turned her gaze ahead again. “You and the others who'll stay at the lodge after you are doing something tremendous for our town. Why wouldn't we want to thank you for that?”

He shifted uncomfortably on the truck seat. “I can't speak for the others, but I'm not doing this for you or your town.”

“Then why?”

His mouth flattened into a grim line. “It's not important.”

“But it's important enough for you to come here. To stay for a month?”

Still scowling, he said, “I'm here. As to the month … I don't know.”

A small spear of panic jolted through Keira at the thought that he might leave. If he did, then, according to the terms of the will she'd read, the town of Hunter's Landing would get nothing and the lakeside mansion would be sold.

She couldn't let that happen.

She had to convince Nathan Barrister to stay for the whole month. And maybe the best way to do that was to show him the town he and his friends were going to help. To let him see firsthand what a difference a month of his time could make to all of them.

But if he really wanted to go, how could she make him stay?

“But you agreed to the month.”

“I did,” he said, and she sensed, more than saw, him shrug his broad shoulders. “But I don't know that it's feasible. I have businesses to watch over. Places I'm supposed to be.”

Already he was making mental excuses. Giving himself an out. Looking for a way to escape the terms of the will. The panic Keira's heart felt a moment ago jumped into hyperactive life and did a quick two step in the pit of her stomach. Did he believe that by making that incredibly generous donation he didn't have to complete the terms of the will?

“You wouldn't really leave soon, would you?”

He shifted in his seat and the leather creaked as he moved. “If you're looking for guarantees, I can't give them to you.”

“But you agreed to the terms.”

“Yes.”

“So your word's not worth much?”

He frowned at her. “Is insulting me your grand plan to get me to cooperate? If so, it's a bad idea.”

“Probably.” She sighed and took the final turn down the mountain road. Just a half mile ahead was Hunter's Landing, where her friends and neighbors were celebrating and planning the changes that would be coming at the end of six months.

She wondered how happy they'd all be to meet Nathan Barrister if they knew just how close he was to ruining those plans.

Pulling the car off to the side of the road, Keira threw the gearshift into park, yanked up the emergency brake and turned in her seat to look at him head-on.

“Problem?” he asked.

“You could say so,” she said. In the darkening light, his pale blue eyes shone like chips of ice—and were just as welcoming. “This might not mean much to you,” she said, “but your staying here for the entire month can mean a huge difference to the people here.”

“I didn't say I was leaving,” he pointed out.

“You didn't say you were staying, either,” she countered.

“I am for right now,” he said.

“That's supposed to make me feel better? Right now?”

“It's all I can give you.”

Keira wanted to grab him and shake him, but she knew that wouldn't do any good. He was so closed-off, so shut down from anything other than his own feelings, she'd need a hammer to pound home her point. Tempting, but probably not logical.

“You've been here only one day. Give it a chance. Give us a chance.”

He looked at her in the waning light and, just for a second, Keira thought those eyes of his warmed a little. But she was probably mistaken since an instant later, they were cool and distant again.

“If you do,” she added, “who knows, you might just like it here.”

One dark eyebrow rose. “I'm not expecting to like it.”

“Well,” she said, smiling as she turned to shift the car into gear again and head into town, “surprises happen every day.”

“Whether I stay or go is really none of your business.” His tone clearly stated that was the end of the discussion.

Well, Keira wasn't sure who he was used to dealing with, but she wasn't about to back down under that king-to-peasant attitude.

“That's where you're wrong, Nathan.” She paused and threw him a smile designed to either put him at ease or worry him half to death. “You don't mind if I call you Nathan, right? Well, Nathan, it is my business to see that you stay here. As mayor, I can't let you walk away from something that will mean so much to us.”

He studied her for a long minute. She felt his gaze on her and forced herself to keep her own gaze focused on the road ahead of her. As they got closer to town, she heard the still-distant sounds of the band playing and steeled herself for whatever he was going to say next.

“Just so you know, Keira, if I decide to go, there's no way you'll be able to stop me.”

She took the last turn in the road and saw Hunter's Landing spilling out ahead of her. Party lights were strung across the street, tiny blazes of white in the gathering darkness. People crowded the whole area, and a few couples had already started dancing.

Her heart swelled with love for the place and the people she'd grown up with. Determination filled her as she turned to glance at the man beside her. She smiled and said, “Nathan, never issue a challenge like that to me. You'll lose every time.”

They were swept into the party the moment she parked the truck, and Keira watched with some amusement as Nathan was dragged unwillingly into the center of things. The man was so stiff, so aloof, he stood out from the crowd like an ostrich in a chicken coop.

With the band's music pouring over them in a continuous wave of sound, Keira stood to one side and watched Nathan's features tighten as a few of the older men gathered around him to give Nathan some advice on fly-fishing.

The devil inside her told Keira to leave him to it. To let him be surrounded by the townspeople she'd so wanted him to meet. But a rational voice in the back of her mind drowned out that little devil by pointing out that if he hated it here, he'd have little reason to stay for the month to insure the town's bequest.

So she walked up to the group of men, smiled and said, “Sorry, guys, but I'm going to steal Nathan away for a dance.”

“Aw, now, Keira, we're just telling him about the best spots in the Truckee River for fishing,” one of them argued.

“And it was fascinating,” Nathan said, dropping one arm around Keira's shoulders and dragging her in close to his side, as if afraid she'd change her mind and leave him there for more fishing advice. “But if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I did promise the lady a dance.”

Keira hid her smile and told herself that the warmth of Nathan's arm around her had more to do with body heat than sexual pull. Although she wasn't easily convinced, since parts of her that hadn't been hot in a very long time were suddenly smoking with sizzle and warmth.

When they moved away from the crowd toward the dance floor, Nathan bent his head and muttered, “I don't know whether to thank you for rescuing me or throttle you for bringing me here in the first place.”

His voice was nearly lost under the slam of sound, so Keira leaned in closer to make sure he heard her response. “But you looked like you were having so much fun.”

“I don't fish,” he muttered.

“Maybe not,” she pointed out, “but thanks to Sam Dover and the others, you could now if you wanted to.”

He stopped and, since his arm was still wrapped around her shoulder, she did a quick stop too and slammed into his side.

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?”

“Would it be wrong to say yes?”

He frowned down at her. “I don't think I've ever met anyone like you before.”

“Nathan! A compliment?”

“I'm not sure that's how I meant it.”

She grinned. “That's how I'm taking it.”

“Big surprise.”

Keira wasn't fooled. There was a twitch at the corner of his way-too-kissable mouth that told her he was fighting the urge to smile. In the last day or so, she'd noticed he fought down smiling a lot. And she wondered why.

“So,” she asked, “are you really going to dance with me?”

He sighed. “If I don't, are you going to sic the fishermen on me again?”

She lifted her arms into the dance-with-me position and said, “Nothing wrong with a good threat.”