Page 6 of Undercover Billionaire

What he should do was clear: Calmly explain the mix-up to his not-so-happy hostess. She would be furious but relieved, and would call the company and request another actor straight away. In all likelihood, she would allow him to spend the night after he told her about his near accident. In the morning, he’d be on his way, never to catch a glimpse of the raven-haired beauty again.

That's what he should do.

For some reason, it wasn’t what he wasgoingto do.

Never before had he felt such an instant pull to a woman, like a star going red giant. He wanted to learn more about her, her personality, her quirks, her life, but he couldn’t do that from a departing vehicle. He only knew her name and that she needed an actor, both gleaned from the phone conversation. He enjoyed mysteries, and even more he liked uncovering them. Plus, she needed an actor, and as a lawyer, he staged shows every day.

For a second, he hesitated, the attorney in him considering all possibilities. What would happen when she found out? Would she go to the police? Could it affect his career, his law firm?

Yet logic reassured him. There was no breaking and entering – she’d invited him in. He hadn't passed himself off as the wrong person; she’d assumed it. He'd make sure she verbally offered him a place to stay.

Even if she discovered the truth, the chances of her actually going to the police were minute. She was doing this for appearance – if she revealed him, she'd expose herself as well. She'd probably just kick him out, and if she didn't, he had pretty impressive free legal counsel. In the worst case, they could work out some sort of settlement – nine times out of ten that kept matters civilized, and he could well afford it.

For the first time in averylong time, he would place something above work. It felt strange and disconcerting and yet somehow right. He just finished a big case, so nothing was pressing right now. He'd send a quick email to his colleagues later. They would be curious, but one advantage of being the boss was he didn't have to explain himself.

He was accustomed to operating on his instincts. In this case they told him to explore what could be. He didn’t even notice the absence of the ever-present restlessness as he left the bathroom to embark on his new acting career.

The man reenteredher living room. Thus, Kaitlyn did the only logical action.

She stared.

For about a day and a half.

The first full glimpse of her actor out of soaking wet regalia was like viewing an ice cream sundae with twelve flavors of ice cream, caramel syrup, whipped cream and half the cherries in Florida. Goodness, she sounded like her lovestruck friend, but it was his fault for being so savory. He wore a simple black t-shirt stretched across a wide chest, rock hard under the thin, taut cloth, and a pair of well-fitting jeans low on a lean and flat stomach. Corded muscle outlined solid arms and legs, showcasing pure physical power. He seemed even taller than before, more massive, domineering, formidable. Perhaps he was all the cherries in Florida and–

A throat cleared. Powerful arms crossed over a broad chest, and her warrior cast yet another knowing expression.

If she had to accept a gladiator boyfriend, couldn't he at least possess an orangutan-sized brain to balance matters? But no, intelligence glowed in fathomless green-gray eyes, which changed color, mirroring his moods. Now they darkened to almost black. Did he sense the strange emotions he inspired?

Did he feel them, too?

She shouldn’t and couldn’t go there – he was an employee, nothing more. She wasn't the type to surrender to a man while he asserted control, and obviously this man liked control. It was time to steal it back. "You must feel better now that you’re out of your soaking clothes."

"I do feel much better, thank you." He smiled warmly, casting heat through her body.

She blinked, cleared her throat. "Good. To get started, what's your name? You can use your real one or an alias, whatever is more comfortable."

The perfect expression wavered, for just an instant, before his confidence returned. “Drake Alexander at your service, ma’am."

"It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Alexander." Kaitlyn reached out and shook his hand. He had a sturdy grasp, sparking an almost electric tingling from her fingers to the rest of her body. She withdrew quickly. "I’m Kaitlyn Owens. You know why you’re here, I assume."

"Of course," Drake confirmed, "but it's easier to play the part with a fresh reminder of the role."

She bit back a grimace. Why couldn't he simply agree so they could end the disastrous night? "Perhaps tomorrow we can go over–"

"How about tonight? I know it's late, but if I get a head start now, I can absorb the role overnight. It is, of course, your choice."

Assume the role overnight? Like osmosis? Was he serious or trying to be difficult? She sighed, dismissed the latter thought as exhausted paranoia. He wasn't just some stranger who walked in from the street, after all. "Of course. I hired you for a period of one week to pretend to be my loving boyfriend."

Drake’s eyes widened, and Kaitlyn stopped. He must have known that part – if not, she was doomed. Yet as quickly as the surprise came, it disappeared. She pressed on, "My cousin is coming to visit, and she expects Mr. Wonderful. She is not a pleasant person, and for reasons I’d rather not discuss, I want her to believe you're this man. Unfortunately, the person I described isn’t quite the same as you, as you probably garnered from my earlier phone conversion. Not that there’s anything wrong with you," she amended hastily. She wouldn’t berate the man simply for being different than expected. "It’s just she will be expecting a smallish, timid..."

"Puppy dog?" he supplied.

She squinted her eyes. "No. Just a little, shy..."

"Puppy dog," he said again, this time with a smile.

She growled. Thus far, he was anything but cooperative. Worse yet, she couldn't stop a smile at his playful comment. "May I continue, sir?"

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