by Holly Jaymes
“We can go straight to bed. Or,” he said with a nod toward the fireplace. “We start this marriage where we rebooted our relationship, in front of the fireplace.” Somehow, he’d already arranged for pillows and blankets. Candles sat on the table, waiting to be lit.
“I like the fireplace idea. Will there be s’mores?” I asked.
He nodded. “I’m going to eat them off your body.”
Even pregnant, my libido ratcheted up to a hundred thinking of Mitch eating chocolate and marshmallow off my breasts. “Can I eat them off you too?”
He groaned. “I think I just came in my pants.”
I grinned. “I’m going to like being married to you, Mitch.”
“Good. That’s my plan.”
He set me down, helping me to the floor. He lay beside me and drew me in close. “No regrets. No secrets. No doubts. Just you and me, Hope.”
“Forever.”
Book 4: Accidentally My Hero
Book 3: Accidentally My Hero
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, unless you accidentally marry a sexy, yet square billionaire.
The plan is easy enough…
Stay married to the sexy billionaire I’ve secretly crushed on for years, so I can get my green card and remain in the country.
Don’t blur the lines between a marriage of convenience and real love.
Don’t get arrested for marriage fraud.
William Sloane is risking it all, except his heart, to help me.
When it becomes clear that Will’s business is suffering from our arrangement, I know it’s time to end our accidental marriage.
It should be easy to leave and return home. He doesn’t love me.
Me?
I don’t want to go, but I love him too much to stay.
Book 4: Prologue—Will - Wednesday
Prologue
Will — Wednesday
Her body was silky smooth under my hands. She was one luscious curve after another. Her scent, a mix of exotic flowers and arousal, filled my lungs. I ran my tongue over her dewy skin until I reached her mouth and devoured it. She tasted divine, like a perfect sweet summer strawberry chased down with an expensive glass of champagne. In a word, she was perfection.
I was uncertain how I got there, but what the hell. I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to touch her. I’d done that before and regretted it. So now, I was going to get my fill. I touched every inch of her, my hands running over plump soft tits with hard taut nipples that begged for me to suck them. Her hips were round and lush, perfect for gripping when my own desire became to much and I had to pound away my own need to fuck her.
Did I mention the sounds she made? She gasped and sighed, moaned and cried out. It was like music to my ears. My dick was so hard it was a wonder he didn’t come out of his skin. White hot need coursed through my veins — the need to consume her. Possess her.
She straddled me, and with her coy smile, got ready to give me the ride of a lifetime. If only that fucking beeping sound would stop.
With a groan, I rolled over to check my phone. My body lurched and my eyes sprang open. Holy fuck, it was a dream. I flipped off the alarm on my phone and then sagged back in bed, wondering how I could be sporting the hardon to end all hardons while my head felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it and my mouth was filled with cotton.
Movement on the other side of the bed startled me. I turned my head toward the motion. Oh Jesus, not a dream. At least, not all of it. My dream woman was here. Her back was to me. Her long, thick chestnut hair lay like a tapestry on the pillow. The sheet draped over the curve of her hip like she was a marble statue of a Greek goddess. Her curves drew me in, making me forget the pain in my head.
I reached over and slid my left hand over her hip, pushing the sheet down to expose her perfect ass. I stopped short as I saw the white line on my pinky finger. My heart lurched to my throat. My father’s signet ring was gone. I’d been wearing the gold ring, the ring my mother had given my father when he’d graduated from grad school, since my father had died. As the oldest son, it had gone to me, and I cherished it as my most precious item. And now I’d gone and fucking lost it.
“Don’t stop,” said her sweet, sleep-filled voice. Her hand covered mine, encouraging me to continue to touch her. I was about to pull away when I finally saw my ring. It was on her left hand. On her ring finger.
A flood of images crashed through my brain. We were drinking and eating. Dancing and flirting. We rode through the city of Vegas in a limo, winning some and losing more at the casinos. It explained the hangover.
More images flashed. We were standing in front of an Elvis impersonator, and I was slipping my father’s ring on her finger.
“I, William Matthew Sloane Junior, take Adalyn Collette Beaumont to be my wedded wife.”
I flopped onto my back. “Oh fuck!”
Book 4: Chapter 1—Can I Stay or Will I Go?
Can I Stay or Will I Go?
Adalyn “Addy” – Friday, Five Days Earlier
I grabbed my salad from the lunchroom refrigerator and went to sit with Stu and Kip at one of the tables.
“Hey Addy,” Kip’s young eyes brightened. He’d been trying and failing to ask me out. I was beginning to feel sorry for him, and yet, I didn’t want him to get his courage up because my answer would be “No.” It wasn’t because he was younger than me, or that he was only average in looks. The truth was, Kip was smart and nice, but just not my type. Plus, he was a colleague. And an American. Not that I had anything against Americans. After all, I was being allowed to work on this highly challenging and important project in America. But since I was Canadian and here on a work visa, it didn’t seem wise to get involved with someone here. Especially since it was possible my visa renewal wouldn’t go through, and I’d be heading home sooner rather than later.
I hadn’t always kept my distance in dating while in America. Three years ago, I found myself very attracted to the owner of Sloane SecurTech, Will Sloane. I was in the United States with my father, who was a diplomat assigned to the Canadian Embassy in Washington, D.C. My father had hired Sloane’s company to help with some personal security issues, namely protecting me. Had Sloane not been so uptight, and shown very little interest in me, who knows what I’d have done with him. I had a few very creative fantasies about it. In my mind, Will Sloane might be uptight on the outside, but in bed, he was a vital, sexually uninhibited man.
Three years later, I was older and wiser, and committed to my work in creating a more secure system to protect against cyber terrorism. The project was a joint effort between Sloane’s company, CTS, which coincidentally bought Sloane’s brother Mitch’s tech company, and a contract from the U.S. government. I was fortunate enough to be included as a leading cyber security expert and master coder.
The work was done at CTS, where I was currently having lunch with Kip and Stu. While Sloane’s company was a part of the project, I hadn’t seen him in the year I’d been in the States. Probably just as well. He might be older and better looking than Kip, but the other factors still applied.
“So, when is your flight?” Kip asked as I sat with him and Stu.
“I leave first thing tomorrow.”
“A week in Vegas. Some people have all the luck,” Stu said, shoving in a chip from a lunch I was sure his wife had made for him.
“Maybe that luck will pay off in the casino,” Kip said.
“I’m there to present at the cyber security conference, not party.” That didn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy whatever fun Vegas offered. My understanding was that it offered a lot in that realm. But I was there to speak at the conference.
“You haven’t been to Vegas, have you?” Stu asked. “I think it’s a place that requires partying. In fact, I’m sure conferences are held there because of the party factor.”
I laughed. “I’m not anti-party. And as they say, when in Vegas…”
“I wish I could go,” Kip said. “Not to gamble, of course.”
“Yes,” Kip replied indignantly. He turned his attention back to me. “They’ll have all the latest tech innovations on display there.”
“Not the latest,” I said. “Not ours.”
“True.”
Our work wouldn’t likely ever be on display, as it was secret and designed to protect the country from foreign cyber attacks. In a world that relied heavily on technology, cyber attacks could significantly, even catastrophically, cripple a nation. Everything from airports to hospitals, utilities to banks relied on technology. All were potentially vulnerable.
“We’re coming up on a year, is everything okay with your work permit?” Stu asked.
I shrugged. “I’m working on it.” I’d been in the U.S. visiting my father when this work opportunity came. I’d wanted a H-1B visa that would let me stay for six years, but the cap had been met; and for some reason, my work wasn’t important enough to waive it. So, I was here on a one-year work permit that was about to expire. My fingers were crossed that it was simply a matter of reapplying and all would be well, but since I hadn’t heard back, and immigration was a backlogged bureaucracy, I couldn’t be sure. My boss, Cal, had assured me that he and Will Sloane were doing what they could as well to get me the H-1B visa this time, even though this particular project would be done in a few months.
“We’d like to keep you on, if you’d like to stay,” Cal had said.
“It would be a bummer to work so hard on this and not stay with it until the end,” Kip said.
“It would,” I agreed. Not only would it be a disappointment to not see the project to its completion, but leaving early could compromise my ability to be given credit on the project. I wasn’t a vain person, but it would gall me to not get a mention on something so important that I’d significantly contributed to.
“It’s cold in Canada,” Stu said. “I’d stay here, too.”
I laughed. “You guys are wimps.” But they were right. It could get cold in Quebec. I remembered when I was little, my father spraying the hose in the backyard overnight. The water would freeze, and the next day we’d ice skate on it.
“Is your family there?’ Kip asked.
“I have a brother and some extended family. My dad is in the Middle East right now.”
“Wow. Do you worry about him?” Kip aske, wide-eyed.
“Not in general, as long as he stays in the compound.” Of course, I worried about him more with him being in Iraq than I did when he’d been in the United States, but he loved his job, and was passionate about peace in the world, so I had to focus on being glad he was doing work he loved.
We finished our lunch and I headed back to my desk. I was just settling into my current project when I got a call from Cal to see him in his office. I didn’t think much of it, because I was doing good work. But when I entered his office, another gentleman was with him, and my heart began to pound. The dark suit and dour expression had me pegging him as a government official. That wasn’t so strange, as our project was contracted by the government. But I knew he wasn’t here for the project. He was here about me. He was an immigration official.
“Ms. Beaumont, this is Mr. Bigalow with USCIS.”
See, I was right. Immigration. I plastered on a smile and thrust out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Bigalow.” I glanced at Cal, who smiled wanly, but I could see the concern in his eyes.
“Is there a place where we can talk?” Mr. Bigalow asked.
I looked to Cal. He stood. “You can use my office. I’m ready for a break anyway.” He gave me a nod of encouragement as he left.
Mr. Bigalow sat in one of the available chairs and I took the one next to him. A million questions ran through my mind, but I held my tongue so that I wouldn’t say anything that hurt my chances of staying.
“I’m here about the extension of your work permit,” he said.
“Yes. I’ve been waiting to hear back.” I’d hoped I’d get a letter in the mail, not a personal visit.
“Well, we have a few issues of concern.”
“Oh?” I understood the need to tighten up immigration laws, but I was Canadian, working on a project to help U.S. security. How was I a risk?
“Your father is Guy Beaumont, is that correct?”
I nodded. “Yes. He’s a diplomat.”
“Right. He’s now in Iraq, correct?”
My stomach pitched slightly, knowing that the Middle East was a source of concern. “Yes.”
“How much contact do you have with him?”
I inhaled a breath as I tried to figure out his line of questioning. “We email and speak on the phone weekly.”
He nodded and made a note. “And this project you’re doing here…it’s a government contract, right?”
I nodded again. “That’s correct.”
“What does it involve?”
“I’m not at liberty to tell you the details of the project. If it’s a concern, you should contact the U.S. liaison on the project.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “I am an official agent of the government.”
“But I don’t know your clearance level. And even if I did, it’s not my place to discuss the project details outside my team. That’s what the liaison is for.” I studied him for a moment and then asked. “What is the concern, Mr. Bigalow?”
“The concern is that you’re a foreigner working on a top-secret government contract and that you could be vulnerable to leak those secrets.”
“I won’t even tell you, what makes you think I’d tell someone else?” Inwardly, I winced, concerned that my tone was too snarky.
“You talk to your father regularly. Maybe you’d tell him.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. “My father is a diplomat and respects the boundaries of national secrets. Plus, Canada and the U.S. are allies, the last time I checked. Unless you’re suggesting my father is a traitor.” Again, I winced, telling myself I had to rein in my annoyance.
“He could be kidnapped by our enemies. He could be used as leverage to get details about the project from you. Tell me, Ms. Beaumont, what would you do to save your father?”
Okay, he got me there. There wasn’t much I wouldn’t do to save my father. “I think the chances of that are slim to none since no one is supposed to know about this project.”
He shrugged. “We might seem hyper concerned, but 9-11 showed us that we need to be.”
I nodded. “Of course.” I didn’t say anything further even though I was dying to know what this meant for my visa extension.
He stood. “We haven’t made any decisions yet, but you should know that it is a concern.”
I rose from the chair. “I understand.” He shook my hand and left Cal’s office.
I sat back down, wracking my brain to try and figure out what to do. The only thing I could do was to cut ties with my family until I got my visa extension or the project was done. I hated doing that, and yet it wouldn’t be the first time I’d gone a period of time without contact. The nature of government work by my father meant that sometimes he wasn’t in touch.
I stood and got a piece of paper and pen from Cal’s desk and made a list of all the things I needed to do. Normally I’d have put the list on my cell phone, but since I was going to have to get rid of my phone as my first order of business, I wrote it down. I wanted to warn my father or at least let my brother know what I was doing, but that could be traced. No, it was better to just go dark on my family until my visa situation was resolved.
Book 4: Chapter 2—Outnumbered
Outnumbered
Will — Sunday
I was outnumbered. Growing up, the only female in the house was my mother. Today, I was surrounded by women. All three of my brothers were married. Gabe and Sam had a two-year old daughter, Annabelle. One of Mitch and Hope’s twins was a girl. Thank goodness their other twin child, as well as Nate and Hallie’s baby, were boys. Technically, the count was even; six boys and six girls. But I still felt ou
tnumbered. Maybe it wasn’t the male to female ratio as much as it was the couple to single ratio. I was the lone bachelor.
As I watched my brothers and their families in the large family room of my parents’ home, I knew dad would be proud of them. He’d have been so thrilled they’d found what he’d had with my mother. I twisted my father’s signet ring that my mother gave me after he died, hoping he was there to see how his family had grown.
Growing up, my father had been a superhero in my eyes and, I was sure, in my brothers’ eyes as well. He’d been a larger-than-life man who was devoted to his wife and kids. When he died unexpectedly, we’d all felt like our worlds had ended. But someone had to stand up and fill in for him. As the eldest son, that job had fallen to me. So, I’d pushed my grief aside, sucked up the pain, and did what had to be done to take care of my mother and brothers. Granted, my brothers had all been grown, but they’d all stumbled a bit when dad died. I was the one that put the ground back under their feet so that today they were happy and building their own families.
“Thinking of your dad?” My mom’s voice came up from behind me. I looked up at her and she nodded to where I was twisting my father’s ring.
“I think he’d have liked this scene,” I said.
She looked at Gabe, who was lying on his back with his legs up, supporting two-year old Annabelle on his feet while she pretended to fly. One-year-old Nathan Junior was sitting in Hallie’s lap as Nate played peek-a-boo with him. Hope was holding a sleeping almost one-year-old Mia while Mitch dangled his keys at his son Pax’s grabbing hands.
“Yes. He would.” She sat next to me at the table. “Now that you’ve finished raising them, perhaps you can live your own life.”
I looked at her. “I didn’t have to raise them and I am living my life.”