Catherine Mann - Under The Millionaire's Influence

So why couldn’t she find her backbone? Time to rectify that now, as she’d told David she would. Not because she saw David’s mother peering around her heavy brocade curtains, but because Starr wanted to regain control of her business, of her life before she weakened and leaned on David again.

“Ma, you’ll need to tell the family to move the caravan over to the beach, so it’s not visible from the road.”

“Ah, we’re bad for business parking in the lot like that.” She nodded with surprising understanding and not a sign of censure. “Gives off the air of vagrants.”

She hadn’t expected it to be this easy or for her mother to be this blunt—or honest. “I don’t mean to be insulting.” She fished in her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I’ve typed up a list of some beautiful waterside RV parks in the area that will accommodate your needs perfectly.”

Her fist clenched around the paper while she waited—prayed—that her mother would take the list and hit the road.

“Baby, I’m not insulted. I understand about doing whatever it takes to bring in the buck. We’ll get off your lawn and onto the beach over there. No worries or need to waste money on one of those parks. You’ve got a great view there and we’ll situate ourselves just right, now that we know the angle you want us to work. We’ll have vacationers stamped all over us by sundown.”

“Hey, Ma, wait—”

“Shhh. Just listen.” Gita slung her arm around Starr’s shoulders and pulled her in for that unwanted hug. “We can play roles well. We’ll even beef up business for your little artsy gift shop as a personal favor. You’ll see.”

Starr stiffened even as her arm automatically slid around Ma’s waist out of habit. Already she was falling back into old habits even though she’d told David not a half hour ago that she had a spine of steel. David. Why did all of her thoughts have to cycle back around to him?

This wasn’t what she wanted at all. She wanted them out of sight. Actually, she wanted them gone before their con games and get-rich schemes caused trouble in town. Aside from the fact that she couldn’t condone their crimes, she also couldn’t bear these reminders of the gypsy child she’d been. A member of a traveler clan not worthy of David. How had the conversation shifted from having them out of sight to them poking their sticky fingers into her business?

The metaphorical beer keg exploded and she didn’t have a clue how to stop the spewing mess of her emotions.

Standing in her parents’ RV doorway with stars glinting overhead at the end of one of those endless days, Starr passed the bags full of chicken wings and everything else she could think of to feed the gang supper. Hopefully this would keep them happily settled inside for the night.

Her aunt Essie—Uncle Benny’s wife—shuffled off the Styrofoam boxes of food to the mini counter by the sink, pushing aside a Crock-Pot.

“Come on in and join us,” Aunt Essie offered in that fake Bostonian accent she affected in an effort to claim she was a down-on-her-luck member of the Kennedy clan. She actually thought a few touch-football games on the lawn would convince people. “We would love the chance to hear all about your fancy new business.”

“Thanks, really, but I’ve already eaten….” Starr backed off the last step—into air. She’d been swooped off her feet by someone.

A man.

Her stomach lurched as her brain caught up to the fact that a muscular arm banded around her waist. The scent of salty ocean breeze, expensive soap and…exotic man wafted up to her nose.

One man in particular.

David hefted her closer against his chest, his breath hot and bearing a hint of toothpaste against her ear. “Good night, ma’am,” he said nodding to the crowd snatching containers of food. “Starr has other plans for supper this evening.”

Pivoting without waiting for a response, he charged toward the beach with long strides. Away from his house. From her house. Away from the people scattered along the dock pitching shells into the ocean or making out under the moonbeams.

“Care to clue me in on the other plans?” Starr wriggled in his grasp. He hitched her higher, up over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. “I’m not enjoying these plans.”

Well, perhaps she was a little interested and fired up as she grabbed hold of his waist to steady herself. Then she figured she shouldn’t let him know she’d given up quite so easily. She kicked her feet in midair and managed to land two good thunks that elicited a grunt if not a more satisfactory outright ouch. “David, put me down.”

“No.” He kept right on walking, hitching her higher.

She gritted her teeth against the image of her family crowding the door of the RV, Aunt Essie and Uncle Benny side by side, watching while others peered through the windows. Jeez. Couldn’t they just eat their supper, for heaven’s sake?

“This is not the way to win me over.” The macho show of force should have torqued her off, and it would have if she could think through the haze of shimmering hormones. The fine weave of his cotton button-down rubbed against her bargain-bin buy. She’d never been a clothes horse—more of a sales-rack and Goodwill-find shopper—but her tactile artist’s senses appreciated the decadent fabrics a man like David wore.

“Who said I wanted to win you over?” he asked without missing a step.

Now that landed an ouch to her ego—and momentarily stalled her kicking. “Will you please tell me where we’re going and why you’re doing this?”

“Soon.”

His timing. Always on his timetable, all or nothing.

At least she would get to know where he was taking her. And if she was lucky, she would get to push him into the ocean right afterward as payback for these he-man tactics that—damn him—really were kind of turning her on as she thought of other times he’d carried her over his shoulder only to toss her on a bed, or down onto the sand. Then he would make his way from the foot of the bed paying passionate attention to every inch of her body.

His feet thudded along the pier outside his house, abandoned. Apparently he planned to have their late night conversation out here.

Alone.

She was in trouble. Maybe she could jump in the ocean if she didn’t like the path of their chat.

David set her down slowly, sensually easing her body along his until he leaned her against the dock’s railing, the bulk of his height blocking out everything but him as he stood in front of her. His pants had stayed perfectly pressed even after a full day of work. His cotton shirt she’d so enjoyed rubbing against bore the slightest wrinkle from the press of her body against him when he’d carried her. Something about the faint wrinkle hinted at an intimacy that tingled through her. Her gaze fell to his arms, his sleeves rolled up, dark hair along his forearms. Strong arms.

Ohhh-kay. Time to shift her attention elsewhere. She looked up to his face. The moonlight cast shadows over his scowl.

She wanted to kiss that grumpy expression right off his face…except…oh, yeah…she was mad at him. God, she forgot that so easily when the sparks started snapping between them.

Starr bit her bottom lip to keep her words and kisses locked up tight. He’d started this. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of begging for an answer. She’d begged often enough around this man—in bed.

The pupils of his eyes widened. Could he read her thoughts now, too? Was he that good of an interrogator at work? Would she be allowed no secrets from him?

Finally, he blinked. She exhaled.

He tunneled his hand through her curls and cupped the back of her head. “Starr, babe, I thought we went over this earlier today. You’ve got to stay away from them.”

His touch muddled her thoughts when doggone it, she had a list of things, logical things, she wanted to say, such as this wasn’t his problem or any of his business, and instead she found herself babbling, “I’ve asked them to leave and go to an RV park. They refused. Short of siccing the cops on them, I don’t know what more I can do to move them.”

“Then call the police.” His fingers massaged hypnotic circles beyond anything her ma could have set up in one of her psychic scams. “Or evict them. They have no legal right to be here if you don’t want them around.”

Starr chewed on her lip again. She really should tell him to get his hand off her, but it felt so amazingly good and she’d never been particularly strong when it came to resisting his touch….

The very reason she had to stop this. Now. She gripped his wrist. “David. Stop.”

She held his gaze in a battle of wills, the heat of his skin radiating through even his rolled-up shirt cuff. Finally, his fingers slowed against her scalp and he swung his arm away, to his side. She released his wrist—and the gulp of air in her lungs.

He tugged at his tie as if in need of air, too. “Damn it, Starr, they steal from people, they prey on the weak and they’re undoubtedly trying to prey on you.”

“I’m too strong to let anything happen.” And she was stronger now, thanks to the self-confidence Aunt Libby had given her. “They’ll hang out for a few days, realize I don’t have any money to give them and then they’ll leave. Just like always.”

His eyes narrowed. “I can make it happen faster than that.”

Too easily she could let him deal with her problems, but she couldn’t tangle her life with his again. “No offense to your professional buddies, but don’t you think that has been tried again and again? It never works. They always get away with whatever illegal or squirrelly scam they’re running.”

Technically not true, she had to confess, at least to herself.

The police had caught up with them one time. The summer they had found ten-year-old Starr locked alone in a boiling hot RV for eight hours while her parents had gone door to door collecting money for yet another bogus charity. She’d nearly died of heatstroke. Five days in the hospital later, the child protective services in Charleston, South Carolina, had placed her with Aunt Libby as a foster child.

At first she’d been wary of Aunt Libby. Nobody could be that nice. Slowly, Aunt Libby’s maternal magic had worn through the years of neglect and abuse and Starr had begun to heal.

Then had come a new fear—that her family would try to take her back.

Thank God, Aunt Libby had always known just how to handle them on their rare visits to the seaside mansion, always with their hands out. And today, Starr followed Aunt Libby’s model of brushing them off.

“Starr?” David snapped his fingers in front of her face, his voice urgent, a hint impatient.

“What, David? Can we make this quick? I need to get back to work.” Actually back to Ashley’s party, due to start up in an hour.

“Has your family ever been reported to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Has anyone ever told me the specifics of their recent scams?” He thumped his chest.

“Well, uh, I guess technically not.” She knew he was darned amazing at his job. Heaven knew his mother bragged about his feats often enough. The woman hadn’t wanted the two of them together, yet she also hadn’t been able to resist rubbing Starr’s nose in what a “catch” she’d missed out on as he sent postcards from this country or that.

Little did his proud mama know those far flung travels only cemented Starr’s resolution she’d made the right choice. Her connection to Aunt Libby’s crumbling old antebellum home, this city, the sisters of her heart went deeper than David could understand.