Living with Temptation Read online

  As if on cue, the doorbell rang, echoing throughout the house.

  A smile crossed Dean’s lips as he walked to the front door and pulled it open. Rachel stood there, her curly blonde hair framing her California tanned face. He had never liked the woman much, but she was there to advise him on how to handle his money and set himself for a future that wouldn’t tarnish the Westley name.

  When his parents passed away a decade ago, they passed on their wealth to him. Rachel stepped up to help, as she had been close friends with his mom. With her guidance he hadn’t made many mistakes - until Desiree.

  “So have you chosen your fake girlfriend?” she asked brightly. Dean flinched, knowing that Rachel initially hadn’t liked his idea. He gestured for her to come inside and then wandered towards the fireplace, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

  “Her name’s Chelsea,” he said. Behind him, Rachel closed the door. “She doesn’t seem too interested in me.”

  “Good,” she said firmly. “She’ll be nothing more than a houseguest. Do I have to remind you you’re doing this for your reputation? The rest of your family aren’t happy with the seducing playboy image you’ve garnered since Desiree.”

  Dean raised a hand, hoping she would stop. He knew all of the mistakes he’d made without being reminded by her of all people. They were old regrets he’d buried deeply, and they would stay that way.

  “I won’t be seducing Chelsea,” he affirmed, turning to face her. The woman was sitting on a white leather couch, her arms folded expectantly.

  “No, you’ll just be using her to show you’re in a relationship,” Rachel said wryly. “Very charming, by the way. Why don’t you find a woman who’ll be with you?”

  “They’re only after my money,” Dean replied, repeating the words he’d told himself. “I’d rather have a fake, brief relationship than deal with women and their damn issues.”

  “Nice way to use someone.”

  He shrugged. “She’s using me as much as I’m using her. I don’t care what you think of me, or Chelsea for that matter.”

  Rachel was silent for a moment, but Dean recognized the glint in her eyes. Now he knew what was coming and before he could stop her, she asked, “Is this about your father?”

  Dean clenched his jaw. She’d crossed a line, and the plaintive look on her face showed that she wasn’t bothered by it. How typical, he thought. Women love to throw the past back at you.

  “Did I say it was?” he said evenly. She held his gaze. “I take it you’ve told me what you need to. This exhilarating conversation is over.”

  Rachel’s lips pressed into a terse line. “Always a pleasure talking to you, Dean.”

  He turned away from her, hoping she would leave. The brittle tension was heavy in the air, and he couldn’t relax until she was out of his house. Rachel hated him for being wealthy at the cost of losing her best friend – his mother, and even more so when the media attention was directed at him.

  Although Dean had tried seducing her back when he was struggling through his grief, he only kept in contact with her for financial direction. She knew how to invest the money earned under the Westley name, and he knew of no one better. Rachel was attractive with a spark of intelligence, but he had no feelings towards her. Nothing but a deep seated dislike which she equally shared for him.

  Dean waited for the door to close, hoping it would hit her ass on the way out, before he sat down. As he sank against the comfort of the white leather couch, he sighed in frustration. He wanted to use Chelsea to improve his image, but now he was having second thoughts. He thought he had everything – the perfect lifestyle that came with wealth and recognition, yet with all the women he took to bed, none of them satisfied the deep longing he had to settle down.

  Age and maturity was finally catching up, he thought with amusement.

  Maybe settling down and starting a family was part of the Westley name. His estranged brother had chosen that path. But Dean didn’t know how that turned out for him. And that was the other reason for keeping Rachel around – without her, he had no way of knowing how his brother’s life was going.

  His thoughts went back to Chelsea.

  Instead of having a façade of being in a relationship with her, was it possible to seduce her into one? Dean smiled at the thought. A challenge was always intriguing, and with all the money to live worry free, he had very few of those. Seducing Chelsea is going to be very interesting indeed.

  Chelsea threw the last of her belongings into the van, sighing deeply as she turned to look back at her old home, wedged closely between two equally small houses. This morning she checked her phone and the message Ryan had sent her, asking when he could move back in.

  And for the first time she didn’t care what he said. She was leaving him out of her life. As Chelsea climbed into the van beside her driver, Matt, she saw Ryan’s dark gray sedan pull up outside. She had left him the key underneath the porch mat and waited until she recognized his car before leaving.

  “That’s him?” Matt asked.

  “It is,” she said. “We can go now.”

  The slightly chubby dark haired man nodded and backed the van out of the driveway. Chelsea glanced towards the house in time to see Ryan look towards the van, as if he was searching for her. Then he was gone, and they were driving out of Newark towards Spring Lake.

  When Matt slowed to a stop to pay the highway toll, he turned to observe her.

  “You’re heading to Dean Westley’s place?”

  She nodded.

  “Are you two…dating?”

  Chelsea stared in surprise. Her expression seemed to have unnerved him as he quickly cleared his throat and added, “Not that it’s any of my business. But any woman who ends up with Dean will end up in the media, and that’s not a nice place to be.”

  “I figured that,” she said quietly. “Don’t worry, he’s just offered me a place to stay. He’s a mutual friend, and I’ll be looking for somewhere else within a few days.”

  “Okay, good luck. Wouldn’t want someone as nice as you to get hurt.”

  Chelsea looked at him appreciatively. “I’ll be okay.”

  The rest of the time they sat in silence. As her cousin Leanne’s partner, Matt hadn’t spoken to her much but was the first to offer to help her move out after he heard about Ryan’s affair.

  As they entered Spring Lake, she stared appreciatively at the Victorian style homes lining the streets. The sky was a deep gray, a backdrop of darkness against the soft colors of the houses and ornate stores. They were all local shops, she noticed. No McDonald’s or Starbucks in sight.

  Matt drove to the address and as he pulled up outside, Chelsea stared in wonder. It was explicitly grander than the photo had implied. The dark green shutters on the top story were closed, and she noticed the front door was open, dim light spilling across the patio into the house.

  Dean’s house was lined with a white picket fence, surrounded by a substantial sized yard. The pool had been covered, and Chelsea’s attention went to the garage down the driveway on the far left.

  Then he stepped out onto the patio, folding his arms as he casually looked towards the van. Chelsea stared, her breath catching in her throat from the sight of him. She admired the way his body looked in a short sleeved gray shirt and loose fitting black pants. As Dean stood there in that imposing stance, every part of him exuded sexual appeal.

  Chelsea didn’t realize her mouth was open until she noticed Matt was looking at her.

  “Thanks for doing this,” she said quickly. He smirked and nodded, no doubt noticing the way she had been watching Dean.

  “Just happy to help.” He shot a look towards the house. “Not the kind of place you’d expect a millionaire to live in.”

  His words were partly true. It looked like an expensive house – for a family.

  “He has another place in New York,” she remembered. “Maybe this is his vacation house.”

  Matt nodded, nodding his head towards the back of the van. “Do you
need help carrying any of your stuff?”

  “It’s only a few bags, I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

  Chelsea climbed out of the van, smiling at Matt before she moved around to the back, feeling Dean’s eyes on her. Matt turned the engine off, leaving only silence apart from the sound of birds chirping in the trees, and a few passing cars. The silence was almost eerie. One thing she appreciated already.

  She pulled open the doors and began reaching for the plastic bags she’d placed her clothes into. There wasn’t much, considering that she’d left the furniture for Ryan. In a millionaire’s house, she wouldn’t need it.

  Feeling the chill of the winter air on her skin, Chelsea was grateful to be wearing her brown woolen coat which draped down to her thighs, and a black and white spotted scarf around her neck. As she took hold of a bag, a shadow fell over her from behind and she jumped, turning around to see him standing there. Dean’s body looked firm and strong as he reached forward and grabbed it from her.

  “I’ll help you with that,” he said with a smile that made her pulse race. Chelsea glared at him but it didn’t last. He turned away and started to walk towards the house, glancing back at her. One thing she was bothered by already: he was arrogant.

  “So, what do you think of the place?” Dean asked. She stepped up onto the patio, looking out towards the pool. How nice it would be on a hot day. Returning her attention to Dean, Chelsea followed him inside, welcoming the warmth in the house. She watched as he placed the bag of clothes onto a white leather couch.

  Chelsea studied the living room, with a brown rug on the polished wooden floors, two wide leather couches and a black, unlit fireplace in the far wall. It was very spacious, and the roof was at a comfortable height. Certainly not as large as it had looked, but it was homely.

  “It’s perfect,” she said appreciatively. “It’s just…”

  “Not what you expected?” he finished for her. “I get that from a lot of women who come here. This was my parents’ place. They passed away years ago.”

  “Oh,” Chelsea said softly as she stood at the doorway, feeling uncomfortable. Of course, she remembered, he would have had plenty of women around here. She didn’t expect Dean to talk about that so casually. As he raised his head, his gaze fixating on hers, she wondered if he was lonely.

  That would explain why he insisted on her accepting to live with him. And the more she thought about it, she realized she was lonely too. Living with Dean was just what she needed. Perhaps it was what they both needed.

  “I’m sorry,” she added. “I lost my father. It’s not easy.”

  Dean pressed his lips together. “Never is. I’ll grab the rest of your things and bring them in here. Take a look around if you like.”

  Chelsea nodded, brushing her hair behind her ears as Dean walked past her. His arm lightly pressed against hers, drawing her attention to the heat of his body. As she heard his footsteps against the wooden patio, she tried not to look back at him. Even though their skin didn’t touch, having him close was enough to make her body warm with desire.

  It’s just been a while, she told herself. That’s all it is.

  She exhaled through her teeth, noticing a doorway leading out to the kitchen and expansive dining room. Chelsea walked towards it, admiring the chandelier hanging above. The kitchen was spacious and tidy, with black counters, a two door refrigerator and white tiled floor. The dining room looked barely used, with a long table draped with a white cloth.

  Everything seemed to glimmer, to stand out and remind her so blatantly that this way of life could never be hers. She’d come so close with Ryan, but in the end, it all fell apart.

  Chelsea returned to the living room, her gaze going to the stairs directly before the front door, leading to the bedrooms. She was hesitant about going up there, wondering if there were any rooms Dean considered off limits since this used to be his parents’ house.

  She understood the grief he would’ve gone through, as she experienced it when her father passed away. Her mom said it was an accident, but she knew what led to his death, and had been helpless to stop it. Chelsea swallowed heavily, feeling her hands shake slightly. The pain and grief had eased over the years, but it could still return as sharply as ever.

  She forced her attention to the rest of the house. Chelsea was so transfixed by the subtle details - the candles sitting on the mantelpiece, the deep red curtains - she didn’t notice Dean had entered until he spoke.

  “You’ll be sleeping upstairs, down the hall from me,” he told her.

  Chelsea raised an eyebrow as she glanced at him. She wondered how he dealt with losing both of his parents. Judging from the way he carried himself, it was as if he had no care in the world. He dumped the last bag onto the couch and turned to look at her. Dean had the authoritative air of a millionaire, but looked effortlessly casual. Again she was taken aback by how imposing he was, and it sent a shiver of desire through her.

  He brushed a finger across his chin, the movement drawing her attention to his tanned arms, the muscles bulging against his shirt. She gently bit her tongue to stop herself from gaping at him. How could she let herself act this way? Losing Ryan had been painful, yet that didn’t mean she could allow her wayward thoughts to distract her. Dean was a good distraction, but it meant nothing.

  If she allowed herself to feel for him, it would develop into something more. Chelsea couldn’t help that. Falling for Ryan happened so quickly that marriage came within a few months. With Dean, it was raw attraction. That was how she wanted to keep it.

  “I’d prefer to be in that separate room outside, near the garage,” she insisted, trying to keep her voice steady. She clamped her hands together. “You won’t notice me so much that way.”

  “And why would I want that?” he grinned. Chelsea narrowed her eyes at him. What happened to staying out of each other’s way? Dean was there for companionship, she didn’t want to strike up a friendship with him, or anything more than that. Just having him look at her was enough to lead her thoughts off track, and keeping them in line was an effort she didn’t need.

  “I’d appreciate my privacy,” Chelsea responded, leveling her gaze with him. No doubt Dean always got what he wanted. But she knew the further away from him she slept, the less frustrated she would be. She was here to recover and move on, not fantasize about what could happen.

  Dean pursed his lips and nodded.

  “All right, but I’ll show you your room first.”

  He led the way upstairs, turning his head to look back at her. Chelsea stared at him, feeling utterly flabbergasted. Dean had the nerve to insist on getting his way. But he’s used to that, Chelsea told herself. Well, she would show this millionaire she wasn’t going to give in easily.

  Requesting to sleep elsewhere seemed impolite even to her. But she had to show that she wouldn’t bend to his every decision. Dean’s genuine charm and attractive looks were a distraction, and she wasn’t going to fall for it.

  Chelsea followed him upstairs, feeling her cheeks warm from the sight of his firm ass above her. She quickly lowered her gaze. Dean stepped into the white carpeted hall and gestured to the far left.

  “You’ll find your room there, the only room on that side,” he said, then pointed behind him. “My room and the attic are that way. But I doubt you’ll want to go there.”

  Then he winked at her before heading back downstairs. Chelsea swallowed, then smiled to herself and shook her head. He was definitely unpredictable, and not at all how she expected a millionaire to act. Still, she had to keep up her resolve.

  Now that Dean was downstairs, she allowed herself to relax. Whenever he looked at her, she had the overwhelming urge to look into his eyes. That was something too intimate she couldn’t share with him.

  Ryan once mentioned how her eyes were too intense. Giving Dean the wrong impression wasn’t something she intended to do, although wearing the revealing blouse was already a bad start. Today seemed to have gone well, and he hadn’t stared at her chest. Yet.


  Her cheeks burned from the memory. Chelsea couldn’t be offended by that. It made her feel attractive. Dean was a playboy, it was probably something he did to every woman. And somehow, she felt a sting of jealousy from the thought of his attention being on someone else.

  Chelsea rolled her eyes. Jealous over someone she’d just met? It sounded absurd. But it meant she was moving on from Ryan.

  She wandered down the hall and unwrapped the scarf from her neck. It was tempting to choose the sleep out to assert her independence, but as she entered the bedroom, she quickly forgot that.

  It was wide, with a high ceiling, white walls and brown carpet. In the center was a four poster double bed with a white lacy duvet. There was a dresser opposite it, and a small nightstand with a lamp. The shuttered window was closed, the room dimly lit by the motion sensor light above – a touch of modern luxury to the standard, Victorian style room.

  Impressed, Chelsea seated herself on the bed, finally allowing herself to unwind. Here she was, living in the house of a millionaire. Knowing it was temporary, she felt a pang of disappointment. I have to make the most of this!

  It would be difficult with Dean around. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop a burning heat of desire sluice through her body, opening up so many naughty thoughts about him. Having him around was sexual torture, but just maybe once they got to know each other, it would fade.

  Four

  The beige carpet cushioned her bare feet as Chelsea made her way downstairs. The house was impressively warm and cozy, and reminded her of the home she lived in during her childhood in Newark. But instead of her parents awaiting her downstairs, it was that sexy millionaire. Her body started to tense from the thought of being close to Dean. She tried to think of something else. Anything but him.

  But as she reached the end of the stairs, he was there, locking the front door for the night. As Dean turned around to face her, she caught his gaze, looking into those brilliant green eyes. Chelsea hesitated on the last step, wondering what he would do. And as she stood there, her thoughts went to the feel of his lips against hers. Liquid heat burned through her and she swallowed heavily.