service to open doors or drop panties, but he was a bit surprised by her lack of reaction. “Got bad history with a flyboy?” Teagan asked.
“No. Not at all. I just don’t like people lying about time in the service. Some things should be sacred.”
Teagan lost his smile. She thought he was lying? That was a new one. He straightened, quick to set her mind at ease, because it didn’t sit right to be accused of doing something he abhorred. “You’re right,” he agreed, seeming to surprise her with his firm tone. “People who lie about serving their country are the lowest scum and I can assure you, there is no stolen valor here. I served my country willingly, as did my brother. Now we own a private charter plane business here in Los Angeles.”
“What is your name?”
“Teagan Carmichael. And yours?”
Again that enigmatic smile but no reciprocal answer.
“Not gonna share?” he asked, drinking in every bit of her. She was so pretty, looking at her nearly hurt his eyes. There was something so untouchable about her, like a queen gracing her people with a glance and a subtle wave. “Seems kinda the point of this trip, right? Getting to know people?”
At that, she answered, “Harper Riley,” and he nearly crowed with happiness. He had a name!
“Nice to meet you, Harper.”
“Likewise, Teagan.”
They were off to a decent start.
“So...about that dinner...”
But Harper wasn’t as charmed as Teagan had thought because she flat out turned him down.
And then she closed the door firmly in his face.
Well, hell, that was not a good sign at all.
* * *
HARPER CLOSED THE door with a frown.
Why were the charming ones always broke as hell?
His idea of a good time probably included a monster truck rally and convenience store hot dogs.
Definitely not to her standard.
But, he was certainly nice to look at.
Damn, when was the last time she got to choose based on chemistry?
Boohoo, life’s rough. Stop crying and start focusing.
Stuart Buck was the real prize.
Vulnerable, looking for someone to share his life with and hopefully old-fashioned when it came to prenups—as in he didn’t believe in them.
Harper pulled her phone from her purse to refresh her mind with all the research she had archived on the old billionaire.
His wife, Rachel, had been the quintessential silent partner, standing behind her man as he’d built his empire, smiling with adoration at the man who’d revolutionized the toilet industry.
Props to you, Rachel, Harper thought with derision. I could never do that.
Harper was more about the end game than the building game.
And Stuart was nicely set up.
He owned property in the Hamptons, a Manhattan apartment, a log cabin in Vail and, of course, his palatial mansion on Nob Hill in San Francisco, as well as his well-appointed beach house in Santa Barbara.
An excited tingle tickled her stomach. She loved the thrill of the hunt, especially when the prize was fat and juicy like Stuart.
Harper would do her best to help Stuart move on from the death of Perfect Wifey Number 1.
Because life was for the living.
And it wasn’t as if his wife was going to spend his millions.
A small smile found her, but, in spite of her plans to go over her research, Harper’s thoughts drifted to her cute neighbor.
She certainly knew that type. Teagan Carmichael was the kind of man her mother would’ve tripped all over herself to land. But even if Anna Riley had never learned, Harper had gotten the message loud and clear.
Charming men were the first to bail when things got tough—or when they’d taken everything there was to take.
Poor Mom. In love with being in love. Eternally hopeful that the next guy was the one.
Harper would watch as men walked in and out of Anna’s life, leaving her with less and less.
If a man had bad credit, was nearly homeless, with a string of abandoned baby mamas, but could charm her with a seemingly devoted smile, Anna was all in.
But if Anna was continually blinded by love, Harper had become jaded by it.
Especially after Rex Harrington. Or whatever his name truly was.
Just the thought of Rex and what he’d done to her mother—and by proxy, her—made Harper want to throw something.
So, it didn’t matter that Teagan was the kind of man who took her breath away. His cute face and tight behind weren’t going to pay her bills.
Tonight was the dinner and dance mixer. She’d already arranged to be seated at Stuart’s table. No doubt she’d have to fend off her share of competition, but this wasn’t her first rodeo.
She pulled up Stuart’s picture. Not bad looking. Bald but not fat—that was a plus.
Her last target had been as jolly as Santa Claus in the waistband, but not quite as pleasant in his demeanor.
She tried not to remember the times when his slobbery kisses had nearly made her retch.
Ulysses Prawner had been the worst.
A millionaire, but barely so, he’d liked to spend his money on women and toys. Harper had helped him in his endeavors.
Only, Ulysses hadn’t known when to stop. His investments couldn’t keep up with his spending and before long he’d come to Harper with a sob story.
“Baby,” he’d implored as she’d packed her bags. “I’m just in a slump. Things will get better. They always do. Don’t go.”
Harper had already been casing the next target and was eager to move on. Actually, she’d been relieved to find a reason to bail. “Ulysses, let’s not make this uncomfortable. What we had has run its course.”
“But I love you, baby,” he’d cried, grasping for her hands.
She’d tried to find an ounce of compassion for the man, but the well had run dry.
Pulling her hands free, she’d cast him a look filled with pity and walked out the door.
Not empty-handed, of course.
Every
