Seduction On His Terms

“Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.”

But on what terms?

When bartender Jeannie Kaufman leaves her job to care for her infant niece, Dr. Robert Wyatt, her favorite customer, offers the help she so desperately needs. Yet as sparks fly, the gruff, gorgeous heir to a fortune still holds back. Does Robert think she’ll never fit in his high-powered world? Or is there danger lurking if they take their romance too far?

SARAH M. ANDERSON is happiest when writing. Her book A Man of Privilege won the 2012 RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award. The Nanny Plan won the 2016 RITA® Award for Contemporary Romance: Short.

Find out more about Sarah’s conversations with imaginary cowboys and billionaires at sarahmanderson.com, and sign up for the new-release newsletter at eepurl.com/nv39b.

Also by Sarah M. Anderson

Seduction on His Terms

The Beaumont Heirs miniseries

Not the Boss’s Baby

Tempted by a Cowboy

A Beaumont Christmas

His Son, Her Secret

Falling for Her Fake Fiancé

His Illegitimate Heir

Rich Rancher for Christmas

First Family of Rodeo miniseries

His Best Friend’s Sister

His Enemy’s Daughter

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Seduction on His Terms

Sarah M. Anderson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09206-7

SEDUCTION ON HIS TERMS

© 2019 Sarah M. Anderson

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

To the Quincy Public Library and the lovely librarians

and staff, especially Katie, Farrah and Jeraca,

who feed my book addiction! Thank you

for helping make my son a reader and for

making literature a part of so many lives!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Epilogue

About the Publisher

One

“Good evening, Dr. Wyatt,” Jeannie Kaufman said as the man slid into his usual seat at the end of the bar. It was a busy Friday night, and he sat as far away as he could get from the other patrons at Trenton’s.

“Jeannie,” he said in his usual brusque tone.

But this time she heard something tight in his voice.

Dr. Robert Wyatt was an unusual man, to say the least. His family owned Wyatt Medical Industries, and Dr. Wyatt had been named to the “Top Five Chicago Billionaire Bachelors” list last year, which probably had just as much to do with his family fortune as it did with the fact that he was a solid six feet tall, broad chested and sporting a luxurious mane of inky black hair that made the ice-cold blue of his eyes more striking.

And as if being richer than sin and even better looking wasn’t tempting enough, the man had to be a pediatric surgeon, as well. He performed delicate heart surgeries on babies and kids. He single-handedly saved lives—and she’d read that for some families who couldn’t afford the astronomical costs, he’d quietly covered their bills.

Really, the man was too good to be true.

She kept waiting for a sign that, underneath all that perfection, he was a villain. She’d had plenty of rich, handsome and talented customers who were complete assholes.

Dr. Wyatt...wasn’t.

Yes, he was distant, precise and, as far as she could tell, completely fearless. All qualities that made him a great surgeon. But if he had an ego, she’d never seen it. He came into the bar five nights a week at precisely eight, sat in the same spot, ordered the same drink and left her the same tip—a hundred dollars on a twenty-dollar tab. In cash. He never made a pass at anyone, staff or guest, and bluntly rebuffed any flirtation from women or men.

He was her favorite customer.

Before he’d had the chance to straighten his cuffs—something he did almost obsessively—Jeannie set his Manhattan down in front of him.

She’d been making his drink for almost three years now. His Manhattan contained the second-most expensive rye bourbon on the market, because Dr. Wyatt preferred the taste over the most expensive one; a vermouth that she ordered from Italy exclusively for him; and bitters that cost over a hundred bucks a bottle. It was all precisely blended and aged in an American white oak cask for sixty days and served in a chilled martini glass with a lemon twist. It’d taken almost eight months of experimenting with brands and blends and aging to get the drink right.

But it’d been worth it.

Every time he lifted the glass to his lips, like he was doing now, Jeannie held her breath. Watching this man drink was practically an orgasmic experience. As he swallowed, she watched in fascination as the muscles in his throat moved. He didn’t show emotion, didn’t pretend to be nice. But when he lowered the glass back to the bar?

He smiled.

It barely qualified as one, and a casual observer would’ve missed it entirely. His mouth hardly even moved. But she knew him well enough to know that the slight curve of his lips and the warming of his icy gaze was the same as anyone else shouting for joy.

He held her gaze and murmured, “Perfect.”

It was the only compliment she’d ever heard him give.

Her body tightened as desire licked down her back and spread throughout her midsection. As a rule, Jeannie did not serve up sex along with drinks. But if she were ever going to break that rule, it’d be for him.

Sadly, he was only here for the drink.

Jeannie loved a good romance novel and for three years, she’d imagined Robert as some duke thrust into the role that didn’t fit him, nobility that hated the crush of ballrooms and cut directs and doing the pretty around the ton and all those dukely things when all he really wanted to do was practice medicine and tend to his estates and generally be left alone. In those stories, there was always a housekeeper or pickpocket or even a tavern wench who thawed his heart and taught him to love.

Jeannie shook off her fantasies. She topped off the scotch for the salesman at the other end of the bar and poured the wine for table eleven, but her attention was focused on Wyatt. She had to break the bad news to him—she’d be gone next week to help her sister, Nicole, with the baby girl that was due any minute.

This baby was the key to Jeannie and her sister being a family again. Any family Jeannie had ever had, she’d lost. She’d never met her father—he’d left before she’d been born. Mom had died when Jeannie had been ten and Nicole...

It didn’t matter what had gone wrong between the sisters in the past. What mattered was that they were going to grab this chance to be a family again now. Melissa—that was what they were going to call the baby—would be the tie that bound them together. Jeannie would do her part by being there for her sister, just like Nicole had been there for Jeannie when Mom had died and left the sisters all alone in the world.

In an attempt to demonstrate her commitment, Jeannie had even offered to move back into their childhood home with Nicole. It would’ve been a disaster but Jeannie had still offered because that was what family did—they made sacrifices and stuck together through the rough times. Only now that she was twenty-six was Jeannie aware how much Nicole had sacrificed for her. The least Jeannie could do was return the favor.

Nicole had told Jeannie that, while a thoughtful offer, it was absolutely not necessary for them to share a house again. Thank God, because living together probably would’ve destroyed their still-fragile peace. Instead, Jeannie would keep working nights at Trenton’s—and taking care of Dr. Wyatt—and then she’d get to the house around ten every morning to help Nicole with the cooking or cleaning or playing with the baby.

Jeannie might not be the best sister in the world but by God, she was going to be the best aunt.

That was the plan, anyway.

The only hiccup was sitting in front of her.

Wyatt didn’t do well with change, as she’d learned maybe six months into their partnership, as Jeannie thought of it. She’d gotten a cold and stayed home. He’d been more than a little upset that someone else had made him a subpar Manhattan that night. Julian, the owner of Trenton’s, said Tony, the bartender who’d subbed for her that night, had gotten a job elsewhere right after that. Jeannie knew that wasn’t a coincidence.

Maybe half the time Dr. Wyatt sat at her bar, he didn’t say anything. Which was fine. But when he did talk? It wasn’t inane chitchat or stale pickup lines. When he spoke, every single word either made her fall further in love with him or broke her heart.

“So,” he started and Jeannie knew he was about to break her heart again.

She waited patiently, rearranging the stemware that hung below the bar in front of him. He’d talk when he wanted and not a moment before.

Had he lost a patient? That she knew of, he’d only had two or three kids die and those times had been...awful. All he’d ever said was that he’d failed. That was it. But the way he’d sipped his drink...

The last time it’d happened, she’d sobbed in the ladies’ room after he’d left. Below his icy surface, a sea of emotion churned. And when he lost a patient, that sea raged.

After three years of listening to Dr. Wyatt pour out his heart in cold, clipped tones, Jeannie knew all too well how things could go wrong with babies. That was what made Jeannie nervous about Nicole and Melissa.

“I heard something today,” he went on after long moments that had her on pins and needles.

She studied him as she finished the lemons and moved on to the limes. He straightened his cuffs and then took a drink.

She fought the urge to check her phone again. Nicole would text if anything happened and there’d been no buzzing at her hip. But tonight was the night. Jeannie could feel it.

Wyatt cleared his throat. “I was informed that my father is considering a run for governor.”

Jeannie froze, the knife buried inside a lime. Had she ever heard Dr. Wyatt talk about his parents? She might’ve assumed that they’d died and left the bulk of the Wyatt Medical fortune to their son.

And who the heck had informed him of this? What an odd way to phrase it. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Dr. Wyatt replied quickly. That, coupled with the unmistakable bitterness in his voice, meant only one thing.

This was extremely bad news.

Jeannie had been working in a bar since the day she’d turned eighteen, three whole years before she was legally allowed to serve alcohol. She’d been desperate to get away from Nicole, who hadn’t wanted Jeannie to get a job and certainly not as a bartender. She’d wanted Jeannie to go to college, become a teacher, like Nicole. Wanting to own her own bar was out of the question. Nicole wouldn’t allow it.

After that fight, Jeannie had moved out, lied about her age and learned on the job. While pouring wine, countless men and women poured their hearts out to her. In the years she’d been at this high-priced chophouse, she’d learned a hell of a lot about how the one percent lived.

But she’d never had a customer like Robert Wyatt before.

Wyatt finished his drink in two long swallows. “The thing is,” he said, setting his glass down with enough force that Jeannie was surprised the delicate stem didn’t shatter, “if he runs, he’ll expect us to stand next to him as if we’re one big happy family.”

Wiping her hands, she gave up the pretense of working and leaned against the bar. “Sounds like that’s a problem.”

“You have no idea,” he muttered, which was even more disturbing because when did precise, careful Dr. Robert Wyatt mutter?

His charcoal-gray three-piece suit fit him perfectly, as did the shirt with cuff links that tonight looked like sapphires—he favored blues when he dressed. The blue-and-orange-striped tie matched the square artfully arranged in his pocket. It was September and Chicago still clung to the last of the summer’s heat, but the way Dr. Robert Wyatt dressed announced that he’d never stoop to sweating.

She could see where the tie had been loosened slightly as if he’d yanked on it in frustration. His hair wasn’t carefully brushed back, but rumpled. He made it look good because everything looked good on him, but still. His shoulders drooped and instead of his usual ramrod-straight posture, his head hung forward, just a bit. When he glanced up at her, she saw the worry lines cut deep across his forehead. He looked like the weight of the world was about to crush him flat.

It hurt to see him like this.

If it were any other man, any other customer, she’d honestly offer him a hug because Lord, he looked like he needed one. But she’d seen how Wyatt flinched when someone touched him.

“So don’t do it,” she said, keeping her voice low and calm.

“I have to.” Unsurprisingly, he straightened his cuffs. “I won’t have a choice.”

At that, she gave him a look. “Why not?” He glared but she kept going. “For God’s sake, you have nothing but choices. If you wanted to buy half of Chicago to raise wildebeests, you could. If you opened your own hospital and told everyone they had to wear blue wigs to enter the building, there’d be a run on clown hair. You can go anywhere, do anything, be anyone you want because you’re Dr. Robert freaking Wyatt.”

All because he had looks, money and power.

All things Jeannie would never have.

His mouth opened but unexpectedly, he slammed it shut. Then he was pushing away from the bar, glaring at her as he threw some bills down and turned to go.

“Dr. Wyatt? Wait!” When he kept going, she yelled, “Robert!”

That got his attention.

When he spun, she flinched because he was furious. It wasn’t buried under layers of icy calm—it was right there on the surface, plain as day.

Was he mad she’d used his given name? Or that she’d questioned his judgment? It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to buckle in the face of his fury.

She squared her shoulders and said, “I have a family thing next week and I’m taking some vacation time.”

Confusion replaced his anger and he was back at the bar in seconds, staring down at her with something that looked like worry clouding his eyes. “How long?”

She swallowed. She was taller than average, but looking up into his eyes, only a few inches away... He made her feel small at the same time she felt like the only person in his universe.

He’d always leave her unsettled, wouldn’t he?

“Just the week. I’ll be back Monday after next. Promise.”

The look on his face—like he wouldn’t be able to function if she wasn’t there to serve the perfect Manhattan to the perfect man—was the kind of look that made her fall a little bit more in love with him while it broke her heart at the same time.

“Will you be okay?” she asked.

Something warm brushed over the top of her hand, sending a jolt of electricity up her arm. Had he touched her? By the time she looked down, Robert was straightening his cuffs. “Of course,” he said dismissively, as if it was impossible for him to be anything but perfectly fine. “I’m a Wyatt.”

Then he was gone.

Jeannie stared after him. This was bad. Before she could decide how worried about him she was going to be, her phone buzzed.

It’s time! read Nicole’s message.

“It’s time!” Jeannie shouted. The waiters cheered.

Dr. Wyatt would have to wait. Jeannie’s new niece came first.

Two

Jeannie was back tonight.

Robert hadn’t gone to Trenton’s, knowing she wouldn’t be there, and he felt the loss of their routine deeply. Instead, he’d spent a lot more time in the office, reviewing cases and getting caught up on paperwork and not thinking about Landon Wyatt or political campaigns.

But finally, it was Monday and Jeannie would be waiting for him. On some level he found his desire to see her again worrisome. She was just a bartender who’d perfected a Manhattan. Anyone could mix a drink.

But that was a lie and he knew it.

He never should have touched her. But she’d stood there staring at him with her huge brown eyes, asking if he was going to be okay, like she cared. Not because he was the billionaire Dr. Robert Wyatt, but because he was Robert.

That was what he’d missed this week. Just being... Robert.

Lost in thought, he didn’t look at the screen of his phone before he answered it. “This is Wyatt.”

“Bobby?”

Robert froze, his hand on the elevator buttons. It couldn’t be...

But no one else called him Bobby. “Mom?”

“Hi, honey.” Cybil Wyatt’s voice sounded weak. It hit him like a punch to the solar plexus. “How have you been?”

Almost three years had passed since he’d talked to his mother.

He quickly retreated to his office. “Can you talk? Are you on speakerphone?”

“Honey,” she went on, an extra waver in her voice. “You heard from Alexander, right?”

That was a no, she couldn’t talk freely.

Alexander was Landon’s assistant, always happy to do the older man’s bidding. “Yes. He said Landon wanted to run for governor.” A terrible idea on both a state level and a personal level.

Robert knew the only reason Landon Wyatt wanted to be governor was because he’d discovered a way to personally enrich himself. He wasn’t content having politicians and lobbyists in his pocket. He always wanted more.

“Your father wants you by his side.” The way she cleared her throat made Robert want to throw something. “We want you by our sides,” she corrected because the fiction that they were all one big happy family was a lie that had to be maintained at all costs, no matter what.

“Are you on speaker?”

She laughed lightly, a fake sound. “Of course not. All is forgiven, honey. We both know you didn’t mean it.”

Hmm. If she wasn’t on speaker, she was probably sitting in Landon’s opulent office, where he was watching her through those cold, slitted eyes of his—the same eyes Robert saw in the mirror every damn morning—making sure Mom stuck to the script. “Let me help you, Mom. I can get you away from him.”

“We’re having a gala to launch his campaign in two weeks.” Her voice cracked but she didn’t stop. “It’s at the Winston art gallery, right off the Magnificent Mile.”

“I know it.”

“It’d mean a lot to your father and me to see you there.”

Robert didn’t doubt that his mother wanted to see him. But to Landon, this was nothing more than another way to exert control over Robert and he’d vowed never to give Landon that much power again—even if it cost him his relationship with his mother.

“Tell me what I can do to help you, Mom.”

There was a brief pause. “We’ve missed you, too.”

Dammit. He didn’t want to pretend to be a happy family, not in private and most certainly not in public. But he knew Landon well enough to know that if he didn’t show, Mom would pay the price.

Just like she always did.

Robert couldn’t let that happen. Of all the things Landon Wyatt had done and would continue to do, dangling Cybil as bait to ensure Robert cooperated was one of the meanest.

He had to fix this. “Think about what I said, okay? We’ll talk at the gallery.”

She exhaled. “That’s wonderful, dear. It starts at seven but we’d like you to get there earlier. Your father wants to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

Robert almost growled. Getting on the same page meant threats. Lots of them. “I’ll try. I have to make my rounds. But if I can get you away, will you come with me?” Because after what had happened last time...

“Thank you, Bobby,” she said and he hoped like hell that was a yes. “I—we can’t wait to see you again.”

“Me, too, Mom. Love you.”

She didn’t say it back. The line went dead.

Robert stared at nothing for a long time.

This was exactly what he’d been afraid of. Landon was going to force Robert to do this—be this...this lie. He was going to make Robert stand next to him before crowds and cameras. He was going to expect Robert to give speeches of his own, no doubt full of bold-faced lies about Landon’s character and compassion. And if Robert didn’t...

Would he ever see his mother again?

Landon would do whatever he wanted, if Robert didn’t stop him. There had to be a way.

You can do anything you want because you’re Dr. Robert freaking Wyatt, he heard Jeannie say.

Maybe she was right.

Now more than ever, he needed a drink.

“Well?” he said in that silky voice of his.

Once, Cybil had thought Landon Wyatt’s voice was the most seductive voice she’d ever heard.

That had been a long time ago. So long ago that all she could remember was the pain of realizing she’d been seduced, all right. She could barely remember the time when she’d been a naive coed right out of college, swept away by the charming billionaire fifteen years her senior.

She’d been paying for that mistake ever since. “He’s coming.”

Landon notched an eyebrow—a warning.

Cybil smiled graciously. “He’ll try to get there early, but he has rounds,” she went on, hoping Landon would dismiss her. Hearing Bobby’s voice again, the anger when he’d promised he could get her away from her husband of thirty-five years...

God, she’d missed her son. Maybe this time would be different. Bobby had grown into a fine man, a brilliant surgeon. Landon hated that both because Bobby worked for a living and, Cybil suspected, because Landon knew Bobby was far smarter.

If anyone could outthink Landon Wyatt, it’d be his own son.

Something warm and light bloomed in her chest. With a start, she realized it was hope.

What if there really was a way?

But Landon would never let her go.

A fact he reinforced when he stood and stroked a hand over her hair. Years of practice kept her from flinching at his touch. “I know you’ve missed him,” he murmured as if he hadn’t been the one keeping her from her son. His hand settled on the back of her neck and he began to squeeze. “So I know you’ll make sure he does what’s expected. Otherwise...”

“Of course,” Cybil agreed, struggling as his grip tightened.

Like she did every day, she thanked God Bobby had gotten away. If he were still trapped in this hell with her, she didn’t know how she’d bear it. But the knowledge that he was out there, saving children and living far from this—that kept her going. As long as her son was safe, she could endure.

She looked up at the man she’d married and smiled because he expected her to act as if she enjoyed being with him. Maybe... Maybe she wouldn’t have to endure much longer.

“Mr. Wyatt?” The sound of Alexander’s reedy voice cut through the office. “My apologies, but the campaign chairman is on line one.”

“Now what?” he growled, abruptly letting her go.

Cybil did not exhale in relief because he’d already forgotten she was here. She merely escaped while she could.

She didn’t want Bobby to be drawn back into his father’s world, and the fact that Landon was using her to get their son to fall into line sickened her. But Bobby’s anger, his willingness to stand up to his father...

No, maybe she wouldn’t have to endure this marriage much longer at all.

She needed to be ready.

Would Robert convince his mother to leave Landon?

The last time, it’d gone...poorly.

He needed a better plan this time.

More than just hiding Cybil Wyatt, Robert needed to make sure Landon wouldn’t ever be in a position to track her down.

His heart beat at a highly irregular pace. Last time he’d merely tried to hide his mother, in his own home, no less. He hadn’t had a contingency plan in place and without that plan, the whole rescue had been doomed to fail.

This time would be different.

Wyatts didn’t fail. They succeeded.

He entered Trenton’s at five past eight. Thank God Jeannie was back tonight. She might not be able to offer assistance but she could at least tell him if New Zealand was a good idea or not. She might be the only person he knew who’d tell him the truth. Now all he had to do was find a way to ask.

A soft, feminine voice purred, “Good evening, Dr. Wyatt. What can I get you?”

His head snapped up at the unfamiliar voice, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. The bar at Trenton’s was dimly lit, so it took a few moments for Robert to identify the speaker.

The woman behind the bar was not Jeannie. This woman was shorter, with long light-colored hair piled on top of her head. Jeannie was almost tall enough that she could look Robert in the eye, with dark hair cropped close.

“Where’s Jeannie?” he growled.

It was Monday. She was supposed to be here.

The woman behind the bar batted her eyes. “I’m Miranda. Jeannie’s on vacation. I’m more than happy to take care of you while she’s gone...”

Robert glared at her. Dammit, Jeannie had said one week. She’d promised. And now he needed her and she wasn’t here.

The pressure in his head was almost blinding. If he didn’t see Jeannie tonight—right now—he might do something they’d all regret.

“Dr. Wyatt?”

The world began to lose color at the edges, a numb gray washing everything flat.

He needed to leave before he lost control.

But he couldn’t because his mother had called him and there had to be a way to save her and he needed to see Jeannie.

She was the only one who could bring color back to his world.

“She’s not on vacation. Tell me where she is.” He leaned forward, struggling to keep his voice level. “Or else.”

Miranda’s teasing pout fell away as she straightened and stepped back. “She’s not here,” she said, the purr gone from her voice.

He wasn’t going to lash out. A Wyatt never lost control.

So instead of giving in to the gray numbness and doing what Landon would do, Robert forced himself to adjust the cuffs on his bespoke suit, which gave him enough time to breathe and attempt to speak calmly.

He studied Miranda. She held his gaze, but he could see her pulse beating at her throat. She was probably telling the truth.

“I’d like to speak with the owner. Please.”

The buzzing in his head became two discordant sounds. He could hear Landon snarling, Wyatts don’t ask, at the same time as he heard Jeannie say, in that husky voice of hers, There, was that so hard?

When was the first time Jeannie had said that to him? He didn’t remember. All he remembered was that she was the first person who’d ever dared tease him.

When he was sure he had himself back under control, he looked up. Miranda the substitute bartender wasn’t moving.

“Now,” Robert snarled.

With a jolt, she turned and fled.

It felt wrong to sit in his seat if Jeannie wasn’t on the other side of the bar. Like this place wasn’t home anymore.

Which was ridiculous because this was a bar where he spent maybe half an hour every night. It wasn’t his sprawling Gold Coast townhouse with million-dollar views of Lake Michigan. It wasn’t even the monstrosity of a mansion where he’d been raised by a succession of nannies. This was not home. This was just where Jeannie had been when he’d walked into this restaurant two years and ten months ago and sat down at this bar because he’d felt...lost.