The Millionaire's Unexpected Proposal (Entangled Indulgence) by Jane Peden

applied lipstick liberally, using her lip liner to give the appearance of fuller lips. She studied her hair in the mirror, then decided to take down the elaborate twist. Her blond hair fell sleekly into place—she’d been blessed with hair that never needed a straightening iron—and then used the sparkling pin that had held the twist in place to instead sweep back her hair on one side. There. That should do it. The woman who had entered the ladies’ room a few minutes ago looked like she could discuss world affairs over a martini in the evenings and attend garden parties in the afternoon. The woman who stared back at her now looked like she’d rather tumble into bed than discuss politics. The kind of woman who stayed out all night, then slept in late and enjoyed champagne cocktails at brunch.
    If that was the impression Sam wanted her to make, she could certainly oblige him. With a toss of her hair she headed back to find Sam. And she made sure she swayed her hips just a little when she walked.
    …
    “Oh Lord.”
    “What?” Sam turned, following Jonathon’s gaze. He felt like all the blood immediately drained out of his brain and headed straight for his groin.
    Jonathon turned back to him. “Is that the same dress she was wearing when you came in? Funny, I didn’t notice how she seems to be poured in it.”
    “She had a jacket on,” Sam muttered. “Where the hell is her jacket?”
    “Why would you want to cover that up with a jacket?” Jonathan mused. He turned back to Sam. “Maybe I’ll look her up after the divorce,” he said in a low voice.
    “You keep away from her,” Sam growled, reacting automatically and not stopping to wonder why he would even care.
    It was certainly taking her long enough to walk across the ballroom, Sam thought. And did she have to stop and chat with everyone who spoke to her on the way? And most of them men.
    He strode across the floor, catching up with her just as she was laughing at something a normally stony-faced senior judge said to her.
    “Sam,” she said, turning to him and putting a hand on his shoulder as she moved her body next to him. “I was wondering where you’d gone off to.”
    “I’d gone off to our table,” he said, then turned to shake the judge’s hand. “Good to see you, sir.”
    “Sam Flanagan,” the elder jurist said. “You certainly have good taste in dinner companions.” He turned to Camilla. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Winthrop.”
    “Camilla, please,” she said, practically cooing at the old man.
    “Well, only if you call me Stu,” Judge Stevenson said, jovially, and Sam tried to keep his mouth from falling open. The Honorable Herbert T. Stevenson, who’d retired after more than thirty years on the bench, was known for being a stickler for formality and for lacking any discernible sense of humor.
    “Well, Stu,” Camilla said, pressing her hand in his, “it was a pleasure speaking with you. I’ll look forward to hearing more stories about your years on the bench next time we meet. Honestly you really should put it all in a book someday. It shows a whole different side of our judicial system.”
    Judge Stevenson’s cheeks flushed a bit. “Well, actually Camilla, I’ve been thinking about doing just that.”
    “Good for you!” she said. “If you do, make sure Sam and I are on the list for your autographing party.”
    “You bet,” the judge said, then gave Sam a sterner look. “Now see here that you don’t leave this young lady wandering around by herself again, Mr. Flanagan. Mind your manners.”
    “Um, yes, sir, I’ll be sure to do that,” Sam said, as Judge Stevenson nodded briskly, then winked at Camilla before heading back toward the bar.
    “What did you put in his drink?” Sam asked, as he steered her toward their table.
    “I don’t know what you mean,” she said, giving him an innocent look.
    “That man is never friendly. He eats lawyers for breakfast. We had a party when he retired from the