Living with Temptation (2 page)

Her gaze went to him. His tanned, dark haired face pressed
against hers with an equally cheerful smile. In the background she could make
out a sandy beach with crystal blue waters. The photo had been taken during
their last vacation together in Hawaii, back when they could afford such luxuries.

Chelsea took another bite. Why hadn’t she considered taking
the photo down?

I miss having him in my life. But after he…

She cut off that thought. Not even his affairs surprised her.
Chelsea almost expected it to happen. There was nothing to be salvaged from
their relationship, and friendship was out of the question.

Keeping the photo served as a reminder of Ryan, a way of
dwelling on the memories without fully letting go. Because once she did, she
would enter the unknown. A sudden fear caused her to shudder. Chelsea knew she
was desperately looking back, trying to make sense of the four years wasted on
their relationship.

She reached up, grabbed the photo frame and unclipped the
photo. Chelsea took one final look at it; reminiscing on the happiness she once
had.
How can I trust any man again? If I find one. Maybe when I’m forty.
She rolled her eyes, her heart sinking from the thought of searching for
someone else.

“I have to move on,” she breathed, throwing the photo into
the garbage.

The alarm clock blared loudly. Chelsea groaned, forcing
herself to sit up as she slammed a hand in the direction of the noise. Banging
her hand painfully against the dresser, she cursed and opened her eyes to shut
the alarm off. Pressing the power switch gave her a small sense of relief, but
she still felt troubled.

Silence settled over her. The bedroom was cold and dimly
lit. Chelsea shivered, irritated that she hadn’t kept the heater on at night.
Winter was creeping close and she wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable snow
and freezing nights.
My first winter without Ryan.

The thought didn’t bother her as much as she expected. In
fact, she felt a sense of freedom. Chelsea sat up, throwing the covers off herself
and pulling on a pair of black pants and a brown sweater. She quickly brushed
her hair, not bothering to straighten it, and went to the computer.

She hesitated, thinking of the house Andrea had mentioned,
knowing she had a chance to live with a millionaire. A once in a lifetime
opportunity. It was incredibly tempting. Chelsea could almost picture the type
of mansion Dean lived in. The wide, open rooms and marble pillars, maybe even a
splash of red carpet.

She smiled. Living with Dean would definitely make life
interesting. And with it being completely turned around after her failed
marriage, it was exactly what she needed. A temporary arrangement. A smile
crossed her face as she realized she was starting to like the idea.

Yet Chelsea was hesitant to call. Dean hadn’t approached
her, instead choosing to ask through Andrea. For a serious proposal about
living together, she figured he would want to talk to her directly.
It’s
naïve to think like that. Dean’s
just another cold hearted millionaire
who couldn’t care less,
she affirmed.

Chelsea reached for her cell phone sitting on the desk and
quickly dialed Andrea’s number. At this hour of the morning, she wouldn’t have
started work yet.

“Hello, this is Andrea Young speaking.”

“Andrea, its Chelsea. Don’t forget I’ll be coming in today.”

“I never do,” Andrea said cheerfully. Then her tone lowered.
“But you’re calling about Dean, aren’t you?”

“No! No,” she said dismissively. But as her voice trailed
off, she realized she wanted to know more about him. Just to satisfy her
curiosity.  “I don’t know who he is.”

“You don’t remember? About two years back, there was that
scandal with the actress, Desiree Moffat.”

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 must be Chelsea?”

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.

“I can take you out to work and pick you up when you need
to. I have far too much time on my hands,” Dean said with a grin. Damn it, he
wanted Chelsea to stay with him. She was perfect – completely unknown to the
media, an everyday woman. Exactly what he needed.

She stared at him for a moment longer, torn between her decision.
Then she pressed her lips together. “Why do you come out this far to do your
banking?”

Dean swallowed. Answering personal questions wasn’t what he
intended on doing so soon, but he needed to convince her.

“I have a…friend out this way,” he said. “I don’t mind the
commute, gives me something to do.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “Do you work?”

Dean shot her a smile that seemed to make her blush. “Not
exactly.”

An awkward silence fell between them before she spoke again.
“I’ve taken four days off work, but I can extend my vacation.”

“So you’ll accept?”

Chelsea brushed her hair behind her ears and nodded. He
flashed her a smile, but saw only wariness in her eyes. His were suddenly drawn
to the bulge of her breasts against her thin blouse. Dean swallowed, and
quickly looked away.

“I’m only doing this because I have to,” she admitted. “But
it’s nice of you to offer.”

“I promise you, you won’t regret this,” he told her,
reaching into his pants pocket to withdraw a card with his contact details. Dean
leaned forward to pass it to her and her outstretched fingers brushed against
his. Heat burned through him. Her skin felt soft and delicate, as the rest of
her body would feel. Chelsea’s touch lingered before she took hold of the card
and pulled away.

He drew in a breath, unwilling to look into her eyes. His
heart was thudding against his chest, his whole body alive with the need to
hold her close.

Chelsea hadn’t made a move to leave so Dean cleared his throat,
his voice feeling tight with desire. He hadn’t been with a woman for weeks, and
Chelsea was reviving all those feelings he’d kept aside.

 “I hear you have to move out by the end of the week?”

She nodded as she pocketed the card. For a moment Dean thought
he saw her hand shaking. Had she been aroused by his touch as much as he was?
The look on her face seemed to show otherwise.

“Yeah, by Sunday. My boss has been understanding about the
whole…separation.”

“A relationship always comes to a painful end,” he murmured.
Chelsea stared at him, her lips parting as if she wanted to speak, but she said
nothing.

Dean gestured towards her pocket. “Just contact me and let
me know when you want to move in.”

“I will,” she said. “Thank you.”

He stood up at the same time she did. Instantly, he felt his
body respond, the warmth of her body only inches away from him. Being this
close to Chelsea’s face, he could see the darkening blush on her cheeks, her
eyes gleaming as she looked up at him. As his gaze locked with hers, Dean felt
his body betray him.

Chelsea looked so vulnerable, he wanted nothing more than to
pull her body against his, crushing her breasts against his chest. He would take
her lips to his, forcing any doubts, any resistance against him from her mind.
Every woman had a different scent, a unique taste. How would she feel?

Dean scowled, immediately forcing that from his mind. His
expression seemed to startle her. Chelsea stepped back and cleared her throat,
a sound which she made incredibly delicate. Feeling grateful for having his
coat free, Dean pulled it in front of him, covering the front of his pants
before she noticed anything.