Millionaire: Needed for One Month: Thirty Day Affair

Instead, she was here to greet the first of six men who would be spending thirty days each in the lakeside mansion. Nerves jumped in the pit of her stomach but Keira fought them down. This was too important—to the town of Hunter's Landing and to her, personally.

Just two weeks ago, she'd received a very legal letter from the estate of a man named Hunter Palmer. In the letter, the late Mr. Palmer's attorney had explained the unusual bequest.

Over the next six months, six different men would be arriving in the town of Hunter's Landing, to spend thirty days in this gorgeous mansion. If each of the men stayed for the entire month, at the end of the six-month period twenty million dollars would be donated to charity—a large chunk of which would belong to Hunter's Landing—and the house itself would be donated to the town as a vacation home for recovering cancer patients.

Keira took another deep breath to settle the last of her nerves. As the mayor of Hunter's Landing, it was her job to make sure each of the six men held to the stipulations of Hunter Palmer's will. She couldn't afford for her small town to miss out on a windfall that would allow them to have a spanking-new clinic and a new jail and courthouse and …

Her head was spinning as she smiled to herself. She tightened her grip on the basket and checked to make sure the lid was latched down. Tugging at the lapels of her black jacket, she straightened her shoulders, plastered a smile on her face and prepared to meet the first of the men who could mean so much to Hunter's Landing.

She was good with people. Always had been. And now, with so much riding on the next six months, she was more determined than ever that everything go right. Not only would she ensure that each of the six men would stay his entire thirty days at the lakeside lodge, she was going to make sure they knew how much this all meant to her hometown.

With that thought firmly in mind, she gulped a deep breath of frosty air and headed for the front door. Her boots crunched in the snow but, when she hit a patch of ice, her feet slid wildly. “Oh, no.”

Eyes wide, she held tightly to the basket and swung her arms in a desperate attempt to regain her balance. But her feet couldn't find purchase and as she tipped and swayed, she knew she was going to lose both her balance and her dignity.

“Ow!” she shouted when she hit the ground, landing so hard on her butt that her teeth rattled. The basket tipped to one side and she groaned, hoping that the contents were tightly sealed. “Well, isn't this perfect.”

The front door flew open and light spilled over her. She blinked up at the man silhouetted in the doorway. Oh, man. This so wasn't how she'd planned to meet Nathan Barrister.

“Who're you?” he demanded, making no move to come down the steps to help her up.

“I'm fine, thanks for your concern,” she said, wincing as icy, wet cold seeped through the seat of her jeans. So much for first impressions. Maybe she should crawl back to her truck and start all over.

“If you're thinking of suing, you should know I don't own this property,” he said.

“Wow.” For a moment, Keira forgot all about getting up—forgot all about the fact that this man and five others just like him could mean a windfall for Hunter's Landing—and just sat there, staring at him in amazement. “You're really a jerk, aren't you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry.” And she was. Sort of. For heaven's sake, none of this was going as planned.

“Are you injured?”

“Only my pride,” she admitted, though her behind hurt like hell and the melting ice beneath her wasn't helping the situation any. Still, might as well make the best of the situation. She raised one hand and waved it. “A little help here?”

He muttered something she didn't catch and, considering his attitude so far, she considered that a good thing. But he came down the steps carefully, grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet in one quick motion.

His fingers on hers felt warm and strong and … good. Okay, she hadn't expected that. He dropped her hand as if he'd been burned, and she wondered if he'd felt that small zap of something hot and interesting when they touched.

She brushed off the seat of her pants while she looked up at him. For some reason she'd expected him to be an older man. But he wasn't. Tall and lean, he had broad shoulders, a narrow waist and long legs. Considering how easily he'd plucked her off the ice, he was strong, too. Not that she was heavy or anything, but she certainly wasn't one of those stick-figure types of women that were so popular these days.

Ordinarily, a man like him was more than enough to make her heart go pitty-pat. However, the scowl on his truly gorgeous face was enough to make even Keira rethink her attraction. His black hair was stylishly cut to just above his collar. His blue eyes were narrowed on her suspiciously, and his hard jaw was clenched. And his full mouth was tightened into a grim slash across his face, letting her know without a doubt just how welcome she wasn't.

“Wow. Are you really in a bad mood or is it just me?”

He blew out a breath. “Whoever you are,” he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to dip all the way inside her to start up a slow fire, “I didn't invite you here. And I'm not interested in meeting my neighbors.”

“Good,” Keira said, grinning at his obvious irritation, “because you don't have any. The nearest house on the lake is a couple miles north.”

He frowned at her. “Then who are you?”

“Keira Sanders,” she said, holding out one hand and leaving it there until rudimentary good manners forced him to take it in his.

Again, there was the nice little buzz of connection when his skin met hers. Did he feel it? If so, he wasn't real pleased about it. Keira, on the other hand, was enjoying the sensation. It had been a really long time since she'd felt the slightest attraction for anyone. Purposely. “Been there, done that” sort of summed up her feelings about romance.

But she had to admit, it was really nice to feel that sizzle.

Still shaking his hand, she smiled up into his scowl. Gorgeous, but crabby. Well, she'd dealt with irritable people before, and there was just no way she was going to let his bad attitude affect Hunter's Landing's chances at getting money that would be a godsend to the small town. “I'm the mayor of Hunter's Landing and I'm here to welcome you.”

“That's not necessary,” he said and dropped her hand.

“It's our pleasure,” she said, hanging on to her good cheer by her fingernails as she turned to pluck the basket out of the snow. “And,” she continued as she walked past him, headed toward the front door, “I've brought you a welcome basket, courtesy of the Hunter's Landing Chamber of Commerce.”

“If you don't mind,” he countered, following after her quickly.

“Not at all,” Keira said, walking into the house and stopping just inside the foyer. “I confess, I've been dying to see the inside of this place ever since they started building it last year.”

It took a moment or two, but she heard him come in behind her and close the door with an exasperated sigh. He was not just crabby, but very crabby, apparently.

But that was okay. She'd win him over. She had to. She had to make sure that he and the five others who would come after him here would complete the terms of the will that would so benefit her hometown.

“Ms. Sanders …”

“Call me Keira,” she said and turned to give him a quick glance and smile.

“Fine. Keira.” He shoved both hands into the pockets of his slacks and rocked back on his heels.

He really didn't want her there.

“Don't worry,” she said, stepping through the arched doorway into the great room, “I won't stay long. I only wanted to welcome you, let you know that you're not alone here.”

“I prefer alone,” he said flatly and she stopped halfway across the room and turned to look at him, still standing in the foyer.

“Now, why is that?” she wondered aloud.

His features tightened even further, until he looked as though he'd been carved from stone. Not really a people person, Keira decided, then shrugged.

“Anyway,” she said loudly, setting the basket down atop a hand-carved coffee table that probably cost more than her monthly house payment. “I've got a few goodies here to make your stay more comfortable.”

“I'm sure I'll be fine.”

She ignored him and started rooting through the basket, pulling items out, one after the other, with a brief description of each. “Here's a certificate good for free coffee and freshly made doughnuts every morning at the diner. And a jar of homemade jam—Margie Fontenot, the late mayor's widow, makes the best jam in the state. A bottle of wine from Stan's Liquor Stop, fresh bread from the bakery, a bag of ground Jamaican coffee beans—” she stopped to sniff the bag and sighed at the aroma, then continued “—there's a jar filled with the best marinara you've ever tasted, from Clearwater's restaurant—you really should get over there for dinner while you're here. The outside dining area overlooks the lake and there's no better place to catch a gorgeous sunset—”

“Ms. Sanders …”