by Noelle Adams
“Energy for what?” he murmured.
“For you.” She wrapped her arms around him.
He kissed her slow and sweet for a minute. Then he raised his head and met her eyes. “Hey, I am sorry about this morning.”
“I know you are. You were sorry as soon as it happened.”
“I know none of it was your fault. I shouldn’t have blamed you.”
Lincoln had been scheduled to attend a Wilson Hotels meeting that morning, and he’d overslept since he’d worked late at the bar. Summer had tried to wake him up when she’d gotten out of the shower and seen he wasn’t yet up. He’d muttered, “Yeah, I’m awake,” when she’d poked him, so she’d gone to work on drying her hair, which was always a long process.
When she returned to the bedroom, she’d seen he was still sleeping, so she’d tried again. When he was finally awake, he was rushed and urgent since he was anxious about being late for the meeting when Carter was counting on him. He’d snapped at her repeatedly, blaming her for not getting him up on time. That had led to the bad-tempered argument they’d started the day with.
“I really thought you were awake the first time,” she said, stroking his thick hair and playing with his earlobe. “I never would have let you oversleep on purpose.”
“I know that. But it wouldn’t have been your fault even then. I’m an adult. I’m responsible for getting up on time for meetings.” He nuzzled her neck before he added, “I was so grumpy because I’m so scared of letting Carter down.”
“I know that, Lincoln. I know why you were so panicked about it. Were you late?”
“Just a few minutes. It was no problem.”
“And the meeting went well?”
“Yeah. It was good. Everything’s going good. And the truth is I’m starting to think that it might have been okay even if I had been later.” He cleared his throat. “Maybe... maybe things are going good enough between us that it won’t all fall apart from one little thing.”
She tightened her arms, hugging him close. “I think that’s right. I’m so glad they’re going good.”
Lincoln was still working on getting his degree online. He was taking more classes now and had a schedule laid out to finish in a year and a half. He was only involved in Wilson Hotels unofficially, but so far the arrangement was working for all of them.
Summer had hope for the future. And—what was even more meaningful—Lincoln did too.
They hugged for a couple of minutes, wrapped up in each other both emotionally and physically. Then Lincoln started to shift. His body started to tighten.
Summer knew he was ready for more.
So was she.
Because she thought she knew what was going to happen, she was surprised when Lincoln gave a soft groan and pushed himself up off the couch. “Where are you going?” she asked, blinking and confused.
“Hold on,” he murmured, striding into the bedroom and then returning in just a few seconds with something behind his back.
“What’s that?” she asked, moving into a sitting position since Lincoln’s expression was different now. Somewhere between nervous and excitement.
“I have something for you,” he said, bringing his hand around to the front to show her a jeweler’s box.
“You didn’t have to get me anything!” She was smiling though. She liked presents, and Lincoln’s presents were always particularly fun and meaningful.
“I wanted to.” His expression twisted slightly. He really was anxious about this.
“Well,” she demanded, her heart starting to race although she wasn’t even sure why. “Are you going to give it to me?”
“Yes. I am. Now.” He was gripping the box. His body gave a weird, rocking motion as if he were having to force himself to do the next thing.
Then he did it.
His strong, lean body lowered onto one knee.
Summer gaped at him.
His handsome face twisted again—this time with wry self-consciousness. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“What are you doing?” she gasped, moving toward the edge of the soft seat.
“I’m giving you this.” He opened the box and extended it toward her. “With all the clichéd, sentimental trappings. Because you deserve it. You deserve everything. And I want to give it to you.”
In the box was a pretty emerald-cut diamond on a gold band.
She was consumed by a surge of shocked joy and absolute love. But it was so strong that she couldn’t move for a moment.
“I know we have the wedding rings. And that they’re enough.” He was searching her face, obviously trying to read her response. “But I wanted you to have this too. I know it’s backward. But I’m always kind of backward. And just because you’re stuck with me doesn’t mean you should be left out of anything you might—”
She tackled him. Literally. She knocked both of them to the floor with the force of her enthusiasm. “Yes! Yes, I want it! Thank you so much!”
Fortunately, he kept a grip on the ring so he was able to untangle them, find her hand, and slip the ring on her finger.
“There,” he said, grinning nakedly, no hint of irony in his eyes. “Now we’re engaged to be married for the rest of our lives.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She admired the ring rather sappily. “You didn’t just get this today, did you?”
“No. I got it a couple of weeks ago. I was waiting for the right time to give it to you.”
“And tonight was finally the right time?”
He kissed her. “Tonight was finally the right time.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE: The next book in the Convenient Marriages series is Christmas Bride, which will be Carter’s book. It’s up for preorder now but won’t come out until October. In the meantime, you can find an excerpt from Third Life on the following pages, a standalone which will be coming out in April.
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Excerpt from Third Life
SEVERAL HOURS LATER, I’ve picked out my man. And also a back-up, in case my first choice doesn’t work out.
I’m sitting at the bar in the hotel, sipping a glass of prosecco and wearing an outfit I’ve been planning out for weeks. I want to look sexy but also like I’m here for a work function, so I’m wearing a black pencil skirt, a simple top that clings to my breasts but doesn’t look outright provocative, and my only pair of designer heels.
I’ve got ash blond hair, gray eyes, and a medium-sized figure—more curvy than slim. I walk for several miles every day—mostly to get out of the house so I don’t work constantly—so I’m in decent shape. My legs aren’t super-long, but they look pretty good in heels. Several men glanced over when I walked into the bar fifteen minutes ago. No one was drooling over me or anything, but at least a few of them noticed me.
Not that there’s a lot of competition here at the moment. There’s only one other woman here alone, and she’s middle-aged and working studiously on her laptop, so she’s obviously not looking for company.
The guy I’ve picked out for myself is wearing khakis and an untucked green shirt. He’s got rumpled brown hair and looks around my age. He’s cute in a geeky way—exactly as I’m looking for. He watched me from the beginning when I walked over to the bar and slid onto the stool. And whenever I glance over, I catch him looking again.
I get no creepy vibes from him at all. He’s sitting by himself with his iPad. When I glance over again, our eyes meet, and I give him a little smile.
He smiles back, looking pleased and maybe a little surprised.
This is what I want. Someone who thinks he’s lucked out by being with me. I don’t care if he’s experienced or skillful in bed. I j
ust want him to be nice and kind of cute.
My stomach twists in excitement. My head buzzes in anticipation.
This is going to work.
I’m going to make something happen that I want.
I have a good feeling about that guy.
I’m finally going to have sex. Then I can go home with the mission accomplished and start my new life.
When I look over at the man again with another smile, I can see he’s about to get up to talk to me. I’m so focused on what’s coming that I don’t even notice Richard Steele has come into the bar until he slides onto the stool right beside me.
My spine stiffens as I stare at him, feeling another wave of bone-deep attraction at the sight of his handsome face, the silver in his thick hair, the little lines beside his eyes and the corners of his agile mouth.
“Is this seat taken?” he asks, a dry lilt in his voice that manages to convey amusement and intelligence and a conscious self-deprecation.
I blink. “Oh, uh...” I have no idea what to tell him. I want him to go away. He’s far too much of a distraction for me right now, and he’s way too attractive and sophisticated.
Even the way he orders a scotch when the bartender comes over to see what he wants is smoother than a normal person.
He’s going to scare away the cute guy I picked out for tonight.
I look around Richard’s body at the guy, and I can see the disappointment on his face.
Shit.
Richard is going to ruin this for me—by the simple fact of his presence beside me.
“I’m actually not... not...” I wish I wasn’t tongue-tied. I’m usually a relatively articulate person. But this man is too, too much.
I almost groan when I see the cute guy start to leave.
Damn it. Things were going so well until Richard showed up.
“I’m sorry,” he says with another too knowing smile. He glances over his shoulder. “Did I get in the way of something you had going on?” He leans closer to me and murmurs, “Let me give you a piece of advice. If a man gets scared away by a little competition, then he’s really not worth your time.”
I’m suddenly not tongue-tied anymore. I’m annoyed. Something rises inside me at the arrogant presumption of this man like a sleeping dragon roused into battle. “You have absolutely no idea what my time is worth or how I want to spend it.”
He doesn’t look the slightest bit cowed by my cool tone. “True. But I’m pretty observant. And you were scoping the place out in a fairly obvious manner. Plus, you’re dressed up sexy. I assume you’re looking for someone to spend the night with.”
My mouth drops open as I momentarily forget about the nerdy guy who is leaving the bar and my long-planned purpose for tonight. My cheeks warm, but my voice is even colder than before. “That’s far beyond presumptuous. And I’m wearing perfectly normal clothes.”
“They are normal,” he says, the corners of his mouth turning up in a way that’s infuriatingly irresistible. “But they’re also a lot sexier than you were wearing this afternoon. I bet you don’t wear heels like that very often.”
“That’s not any of your business.”
“Of course it’s not my business, but you just said you weren’t dressed sexy, and that’s simply not true.” He leans forward again, far enough to murmur into my ear, “You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Chills run down my spine at the husky note of his voice. At how much I want to believe what he’s saying.
But that’s the thing.
I don’t believe it.
There’s no way in the world—not any world at any time in any universe—that a man like Richard Steele hasn’t seen a woman sexier than me.
I’m pretty enough. And I’m sure I could be sexy enough if given the opportunity.
But I’m also invisible.
Something strange is going on here.
I straighten up on the stool and frown at him. “Okay. You can stop with the act and just tell me what you want.”
This surprises him. I can see it in the widening of his ridiculously blue eyes and the way he grows still for just a moment. “What I want?”
“Yes, what you want.” I wave my hand vaguely between us. “Because you’re good. Really good. This... whatever it is... is very well done but too over-the-top to be convincing. So tell me what you want so we can get this finished, and I can get back to my evening.”
I glance over to the opposite corner of the room and see that my backup guy is still there. All isn’t lost, if I can just get rid of Richard so I can regain my momentum.
“What could I possibly want, other than your company?” He’s recovered from his surprise. He’s as smooth and dry as fine wine again.
“I have no idea. But a man like you doesn’t make a move on a woman like me for no reason.”
“What do you mean a woman like you?” His tone is different now. So is his expression. I can’t exactly pin down the change, but it feels realer. More natural. “Why wouldn’t I make a move on a woman like you?”
“Because you wouldn’t. I’ve lived thirty-two years with my body and my personality. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with me, but men like you don’t go for me.”
“Men like me?”
“Oh please. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’d give George Clooney a run for his money. And you’re obviously very good at stalling and avoiding answering questions, but I’m asking you again. What exactly do you want?”
“I really don’t want anything. I just saw you over here and came to talk.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t believe you.”
“I can’t do anything about what you believe. I can just tell you the truth.”
“But you’re not telling me the truth. Seriously. If I knew any state secrets, I’d swear you were a spy, trying to seduce me into spilling everything I know.”
He laughs for real. It looks and sounds genuine. He’s different now. Whatever game he was playing earlier is over. “I promise I’m not a spy.”
“If you were, you’d be a pretty incompetent one, going after someone who knows absolutely nothing.”
“I’m definitely not incompetent.” His eyes are resting on my face again, and they feel appreciative rather than calculating. As if he’s really seeing me. As if he’s really thinking about me.
As if I’m not invisible to him anymore.
“I wouldn’t think so. But that leaves me with more questions. Because I have absolutely no idea what you could want from me.” A little flicker of an idea sparks painfully. “You’re not... I mean, Ashley and Sean didn’t... didn’t hire you or something, did they?”
The idea is horrifying.
Utterly horrifying.
The confusion on his face would be hard to fake. “What?”
I shake my head. There’s no way. Ashley would never do that to me. She’d know how much it would hurt and humiliate me. She wouldn’t.
“What would I have been hired to do?”
“Nothing. It was just a random thought. Anyway, whatever you’re trying to do isn’t going to work. I don’t trust you, and I’m not going to believe anything you tell me. So would you mind sitting somewhere else? You’re getting in the way.”
To my surprise, he actually rises to his feet, but he doesn’t walk away immediately. He tilts his head down to murmur, “What am I getting in the way of?”
“That’s not your concern. So go sit over there and mind your own business.”
He laughs as he strolls to the other side of the bar with his glass of scotch. He takes the farthest stool and settles in with an expression of aggrieved resignation.
I try to roll my eyes and keep my express lofty and disinterested, but I have a hard time not laughing in response.
YOU CAN FIND OUT MORE about Third Life here.
About Noelle Adams
NOELLE HANDWROTE HER first romance novel in a spiral-bound notebook when she was twelve, and she hasn’t stopped writing since. She has lived in eig
ht different states and currently resides in Virginia, where she writes full time, reads any book she can get her hands on, and offers tribute to a very spoiled cocker spaniel.
She loves travel, art, history, and ice cream. After spending far too many years of her life in graduate school, she has decided to reorient her priorities and focus on writing contemporary romances. For more information, please check out her website: noelle-adams.com.