Living with Temptation Read online

  Chelsea’s eyes widened. She remembered watching it on the news with Ryan. Dean was reported as having an affair with Desiree, and her husband attempted to sue him citing alienation of affection and grave emotional harm. He was unsuccessful. Dean had the money and the connections to avoid a lawsuit. The state didn’t allow it either. Eventually, Desiree divorced her husband to be with Dean, but he turned her away.

  Realizing her mouth was agape from the revelation, she closed it. “That’s him?”

  “Sure is.”

  Chelsea stared blankly. So he was the Dean, New Jersey’s seductive millionaire. Women loved him for his money and the reputation he earned from it. And she assumed he was a businessman, not the self-indulgent player Dean seemed to be. He was prominent in the media, and now conveniently looking for a woman to live with him.

  “He’s a player.”

  “Most men are, girl. Just don’t let him get to you.”

  Chelsea bit her lip. She wasn’t going to be persuaded to accept the offer. No way did she want to be living near that man, and his promises of wealth and easy sex. The reason he gave her the opportunity was clear – Dean was targeting a vulnerable woman, someone who would fall into bed with him easily.

  “I won’t meet him,” she said coolly. “I’ve found other places I’ll inquire about.”

  There was a long silence before Andrea responded. “All right, if that’s what you want. I’ll be taking my break at eleven, we should grab a coffee from Starbucks.”

  “Sounds great,” Chelsea enthused, knowing that her friend would be disappointed about Dean. Hopefully she could make it up to her. “I’ll see you soon.”

  She disconnected the call and ran a hand through her long hair. Of course she felt guilty for rejecting Dean, but he was a millionaire. There were plenty of other women who would jump at the chance to live in the same house as him. No doubt Andrea told him of her situation and he decided to offer a temporary place to stay. And a temporary lover, she thought bitterly.

  She definitely wasn’t that type, no matter how sexy Dean supposedly was.

  Chelsea turned her attention back to the computer, wearily flicking it on and recalling the fact that she hadn’t eaten anything for breakfast yet. It can wait, she told herself. Without her usual morning coffee, she didn’t feel completely awake yet.

  She clicked on her internet browser and went straight to Google. She hovered the mouse over the search bar, intending on typing Dean’s name and seeing what would come up. How did he earn his wealth? What things were the media saying about him?

  Chelsea shook her head. It’s not my business.

  She shut the computer down and returned to her bedroom to prepare herself for catching up with Andrea. From her closet, she selected a pair of gray corduroy pants and a simple white blouse. She pulled the blouse over her head and as it fitted against her slim form, she noticed how the buttons didn’t go up fully, resulting in a display of her cleavage. Chelsea blushed. Not the type of top she wanted to wear at all.

  But as she sorted through the rest of her clothes, nothing else looked casual enough to cope with the frigid weather. Chelsea sighed and turned to her mirror. Her breasts swelled against the tight fitting blouse.

  She pursed her lips and reached for a sweater. Even though it was cold outside, the bank had reasonably powerful heating. A thin sweater was the way to go.

  Chelsea pulled it on, brushed her hair again and checked herself out in the mirror. With no makeup on, her face looked pale. Years ago, she would’ve smeared on some concealer and toner, but it wasn’t possible with the allergy she developed towards makeup.

  Going all natural wasn’t a problem. It was only for coffee.

  Chelsea turned away and reached for her keys. If she left now, that would give her half an hour to reach the bank on Grand Street. And at this time of day, the traffic would be a problem.

  “Damn it!” Chelsea snapped, leaning back against her seat in frustration. She’d been slowly making progress down the street but it wasn’t enough. Three times she’d been tempted to jump out of the car and run the remaining two blocks to the bank. Should’ve taken the bus.

  Glancing ahead of her, she noticed a yellow cab moving out of a parking space. Someone impatiently honked a few cars behind her. The traffic moved forward and Chelsea flicked on her turn signal. She pulled into the empty space, smiling triumphantly.

  She made it, albeit ten minutes late.

  Chelsea climbed out, fed a few quarters into the parking meter, and walked quickly.

  She picked up her pace until she reached the entrance. The doors slid open and she hurried inside, her face flushed from exertion. Andrea was sitting at her usual desk and looked immediately in her direction, giving her a friendly smile. Her bright red hair fell gently around her face, a slash of color against her pale skin. As Chelsea approached her, she noticed the urgency in her dark green eyes.

  “Good to see you,” Andrea greeted her. “I won’t be taking my break right now.”

  Chelsea’s face fell in disappointment and she winced. “Sorry I’m late, the traffic was hell.”

  Andrea pressed her lips together. “It’s fine. You’re not the only one who’s late.”

  Surprise struck her. Chelsea stared, a frown of suspicion creasing her face. “You invited him didn’t you?”

  An apologetic grin spread across her friend’s face. “Sorry!”

  She obviously wasn’t.

  “I really think you’re passing off a perfect opportunity. Knowing and living with a millionaire will get your name all over the media! Think about it, you’ll make Ryan jealous.”

  Chelsea allowed herself to smile briefly. That mental image lifted her spirits.

  “I don’t care about him,” she reminded her. She wasn’t after that, and she certainly didn’t want to feature in the media as Dean Westley’s latest fling.

  A customer approached and Chelsea stepped aside, standing self-consciously next to the line that was forming. She shot a glance towards Andrea, feeling a twinge of annoyance towards her. So she had gone ahead and invited Dean to the bank for a meeting. It looked like she would be seeing him after all, but it would be brief once he heard her decision.

  At least any reporters wouldn’t attempt to follow Dean into a bank. Under the glare of camera flashes, she’d feel like a deer in headlights. Not an ideal situation. Maybe he’s not that popular, Chelsea mused. Curiosity pulled at her and she gently bit at her bottom lip.

  Ahead of her she noticed a group of red seats arranged in a semi-circle next to the wide window facing the city. She walked over and sat down, brushing her hair behind her ears. How foolish it would be if Dean never showed. She almost expected him not to. Being a famous millionaire, he had probably found another woman by now.

  Chelsea stole a look around her surroundings. The bank was in reasonable condition, with neutral tones of pale cream walls and blank white floor tiles. The only downfall was the out of control heating system. She fanned a hand in front of her face. The warm, dry air made her thirsty and the heat was exacerbated by the thick material of her sweater. Chelsea winced. She had no choice but to take it off, and as she grasped the edge of the sweater and pulled it over her head, she sensed someone moving in front of her.

  She hastily placed the sweater next to her and tilted her head up, her eyes locking onto brilliant green ones. The dark haired man stood before her smiling in recognition. He was dressed in black pants and a navy blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his lightly tanned and well defined arms. His black coat hung from his left arm, the other stretching towards her to offer a handshake.

  Chelsea’s gaze lingered on his face. He looked to be in his early thirties, with deep creases around his eyes. This was a man who smiled often, and he smiled wider, exposing his perfectly white teeth. A flush of heat burned through her body as she stared at him, taken aback by his effortlessly sensual looks.

  Then he spoke, his voice sparking a deep, newfound desire within her. “You mu
st be Chelsea?”

  Two

  Dean inwardly cursed to himself the moment he entered the bank. This was not what he had in mind, but he had no other choice. After hearing about Andrea’s friend’s predicament, he decided to offer his house to her. It was just the opportunity he had been waiting for. Hell, she was probably bursting with excitement like any other woman offered the chance to live with a millionaire in his house overlooking the ocean.

  So many times he had gone through the situation in his mind. Why did he need to do this? It all began when his assistant Rachel relayed the latest tabloid report about him. He gritted his teeth, hating how his life revolved around the paparazzi – he wasn’t a celebrity or remotely famous, until one reporter decided to make him a feature on their website.

  Now they had the nerve to call him cold hearted, all because he didn’t throw his family inheritance around or donate to charity. Well, he would show them. Giving Chelsea Levin the option to live with him would raise his status in the media – and keep them off his back, with minimal effort.

  They almost reminded him of sharks, greedy for the taste of a scandal as big as the one he had foolishly done with Desiree Moffat. It was a mistake. But Chelsea wouldn’t be, he would ensure that.

  He noticed red haired Andrea sitting at her usual position and she glanced up at him. The woman flashed him an endearing smile, one that he was used to seeing from her. As he walked towards her, she gestured towards the waiting area to a blonde haired woman sitting there.

  Dean gave her a nod of appreciation and left her to work.

  So this was Chelsea. He walked towards her, peeling off his coat and wincing from the heat burning against his skin. The place was too damn hot for a meeting. Regrettably, it had to be done here after hearing from Andrea that Chelsea had no interest. He hoped she wouldn’t be too surprised by his arrival, or too excited.

  At the moment, he didn’t have the tolerance for an excited fan of his. He knew it was only his wealth and status women were drawn to, not who he was.

  Draping his coat over his arm, Dean stepped closer as Chelsea fanned her face with her hand. Then he froze. Her lips parted and he was immediately drawn to the soft curves. Then his gaze lowered down her body. She was dressed casually in a sweater and dark pants which clung tantalizingly to her slim form. But that wasn’t what intrigued him about her – she seemed completely unaware of how attractive she looked, and as she began to pull the sweater off, it drew his attention to her breasts. The small, firm shape of them underneath her blouse that blatantly revealed her cleavage.

  Damn it, why did she have to be attractive?

  He swallowed heavily and pushed his X-rated thoughts aside. Chelsea was no different than many of the women who came to him. He could live with her. There was nothing he couldn’t handle. The house was big enough for the two of them.

  If there was any sign that she would try to throw herself at him, desperate for sex, then he would call the meeting off. Dean winced. He had a similar encounter with a young woman not too long ago. As much as he enjoyed their attention, sometimes he couldn’t understand it.

  Chelsea threw her head back, her wavy shoulder length hair flowing behind her as she locked her eyes onto him. Glimmering blue eyes with facets of green and a hint of what seemed to be disapproval. She was fresh faced, with faint dark circles under her eyes. As she gave him a gentle smile, Dean was struck by the pain he saw. He’d hidden enough pain himself to recognize the look on her face.

  He quietly cleared his throat and forced his winning smile, asking, “You must be Chelsea?”

  She stared up at him, at a loss for words. His smile only widened. He could tell she was flustered by his appearance, and he was used to that reaction. Perhaps this may work out after all.

  Her mouth hardened into a firm line, her surprise visibly fading.

  “I am,” she responded, leaving his open hand hanging there. He swallowed awkwardly. Now he was the one surprised by her. Dean certainly didn’t expect her to dismiss him so coldly, and he jerked his hand back, attempting to recover his composure.

  Chelsea’s voice softened. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand why you’re doing this. Is it a publicity stunt?”

  Dean stepped back and took a seat opposite her, sinking against the rough seat. He swore he saw her face flushing slightly, but whether it was from the heat or arousal, he couldn’t tell. He leaned forward, resting his elbows against his thighs. Looks like I have to try a different tactic.

  “Andrea told me about your situation. You need a place to live, I can offer you one. And I assure you, it is strictly professional, nothing more. You have your own room, and you’ll be left unattended for as long as you wish.”

  A smirk curved her lips. “Until you call upon me to satisfy you?”

  Dean stared at her. This was a woman who preferred to get straight to the point. In spite of himself, he was intrigued by her.

  “I’m not interested in that,” he said evenly. “Why’re you being so difficult? Any other woman would jump at the chance to live with me.”

  “Well, I’m not every other woman,” Chelsea retorted. Her voice softened. “I just don’t get why you want to help me. We aren’t friends.”

  “I’d like for us to be.” That sounded sincere to him, and he wanted her to believe his words. Dean Westley didn’t become a playboy millionaire through his looks alone. “It’ll be a temporary arrangement, to help you get back on your feet. It won’t cost you anything.”

  She folded her arms. “So that’s a benefit for me. What do you get out of this?”

  “Company,” he stated smoothly. “I tend to avoid the media spotlight, so I don’t get to meet as many people as I used to.”

  She bit her lip, obviously still apprehensive. Dean watched her intently and when her eyes met his, he felt an intense flush of heat spread across his skin. How could he feel this way? Usually he kept any lustful thoughts in check. He swallowed heavily, realizing that being around Chelsea was affecting him more than he wanted.

  “I’ve found a few other places, and Ry – my ex-husband will be moving back,” she admitted suddenly. Dean couldn’t tear his gaze away from her as she openly stared at him, the vulnerability showing in her eyes. She lowered her head and drew in a breath, wiping a hand across her face.

  “Sorry, it’s -”

  “A hard thing to move on from, I understand,” Dean said softly.

  She looked up at him in shock, obviously taken back by his sincerity. Her reaction surprised him. Chelsea was bringing out a part of him he repressed. Dean had prepared himself for an overly excited woman. That was easy to deal with, but not this. He couldn’t waste time comforting her, but he didn’t like to see a woman cry – what man did?

  Whoever her ex-husband was, Dean instantly didn’t like him. But who was he to judge? Perhaps Chelsea hurt him. He knew very well of how deceitful women could be. But the feeling in his gut told him she wasn’t a threat. A woman recovering from a broken marriage would have no intent of going after his wealth, or his body.

  Which was exactly the reason why Dean chose her.

  Finally, things would work out for him. The Westley name would gain its significance back, and the damage caused by his affair with Desiree would be reverted. All he needed was her word.

  Chelsea exhaled loudly, her gaze lingering on him for a moment until she turned away, shooting a glance towards Andrea.

  “If I accept this,” she began. “I need to know a few things. Where do you live?”

  Dean held back a smile. He didn’t want to push her away by appearing too willing to get her to accept. “I have a house in New York, and one out at Spring Lake. Spring Lake is where I’m living right now and…”

  He hesitated. Originally he intended on offering her the place at New York, but he didn’t realize how vulnerable Chelsea was. For a woman like her, he wanted to let her enjoy herself, and the chaotic lifestyle of New York wouldn’t help. Her sadness only confirmed his belief that relationships were
pointless since they ended in such a deep, unshakeable pain.

  Seeing the blank expression on her face pulled at something within him. Dean forced it aside. Taking Chelsea to Spring Lake would make him look better to the media, and that was what he needed.

  Noticing that her gentle eyes were fixated on him, Dean lowered his head. Her eyes seemed to draw him in. Already he could feel himself hardening, his thoughts vividly playing out the fantasy of bringing her face to his, and tasting the softness of her lips.

  Dean shifted awkwardly, quickly changing his line of thought.

  “The Spring Lake house is available,” he decided. “It has a view out towards the ocean -”

  “I can’t take it,” she interrupted sharply. “I work at Newark. Spring Lake is fifty miles away.”

  Dean allowed himself to look into her eyes. This woman was a challenge and quite unpredictable – he liked that. He needed someone to keep himself and the media guessing. Who was Chelsea Levin? He had to find out. Spring Lake was a perfect choice.

  “I’ll pay for gas, and any tolls,” he offered.

  Her eyes widened but Dean knew he had her tempted. Money was an attraction for any woman, as he discovered over the past few years.

  “I can’t ask you to do that for me.”

  “Hey, it’s not like I need to worry about money.”

  A gentle smile crossed her face. Dean waited, observing her expression as she bit at her bottom lip.

  “I don’t know if I’d be comfortable driving long distances every day, not with how my knees are.”

  Dean glanced at her slim knees, picturing how soft her skin would be if he traced his hands across them. Hell, how can I put up with her if I’m going to feel this way? He gritted his teeth, knowing that time would lessen those thoughts. It worked for him with another significant woman he knew.

  Still, he was curious to know more about her. “What happened?”

  Chelsea shrugged and lowered her gaze. “I don’t know exactly. They just flared up. Don’t want it to happen again.”

  He nodded, waiting for her to elaborate. She stayed quiet. Dean drew in a deep breath, knowing that she wouldn’t say any more. He didn’t want to be persistent. Judging by the look in her eyes, Chelsea didn’t think much of him. It was a pleasant change, but an unwelcome one.