Tangled: A New Adult Romance Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle of Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Royalty)

by Lakes, Krista

  “In case you haven’t noticed—and I believe you have—he’s a little deeper thinking than your typical shallow-minded guy.”

  I know. He’s perfect. “Still, I’m plain. You’re...stunning. I saw the way he looked at you. There was something—a glimmer—in his eyes, like in the movies. It was very romantic.”

  “Sounds like you’ve fallen in love with him too.”

  “No. Absolutely not.” Jane said with far more conviction than she felt.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “He’s a cutie. I wouldn’t blame you.”

  “Nope. Through the whole thing I reminded myself he’s your boyfriend, not mine. Like I said, look at me. I don’t compare.”

  “Hey, with the new clothes and hair, I’d call you a babe.”

  “You’re being kind.”

  “I might even be a little jealous of you. I didn’t tell you this but I went to one of my favorite hot spots last weekend and a guy I’ve seen around here and there—a guy who’d never give me the time of day—flirted with you!”

  “He didn’t. You’re lying.”

  “I have his phone number to prove it.” Monica motioned toward Jane’s purse. “May I?”

  “Sure.” Jane handed it to her and watched as Monica rummaged through the contents.

  “Aha! Here you go.” Looking quite pleased with herself, Monica produced a business card with a smudgy phone number scribbled on the back. She looked down at it, her fingertips toying with the edges. Her expression was a little forlorn. “His name is Bill and he’s an absolute babe. We talked all night long.” With a smile that looked forced, she handed the card to Jane. “But this belongs to you now.”

  Jane shook her head. “No thanks.”

  “Seriously, take it. He’s very sexy. And who would’ve thought a man who works with his hands could be loaded? He drove a Beemer.”

  “Business must be good.”

  “Real good.” Monica tried to hand Jane the card again. “Even if you don’t want to date him, he’s an electrician. You never know when one of those might come in handy.”

  “I live in an apartment.”

  “So?”

  “You’re the one who has a house.”

  “That doesn’t matter. You have electricity too.”

  Jane shook her head. “Never mind. Guess you’ve never been a renter before.”

  “I’ve never dated a man who works with his hands before—unless you count the banker. I have to admit, dating a working man holds a certain appeal.”

  Like she could take the card now! Not! “You keep it. Maybe if things don’t work out with Jason you could—”

  “No. I mentioned myself and he said he knew me, thought I was too high-maintenance.” Monica giggled. “Can you just imagine?” She wound a lock of hair around her index finger.

  “Nope.”

  “Me? High-maintenance.”

  “Never.”

  Monica drew the card closer, obviously preparing to tuck it away somewhere safe, a pocket or in her bra maybe. “Are you sure you won’t take it?”

  “Positive.”

  “Okay,” Monica said on a sigh. “You can’t say I didn’t offer.”

  Jane merely nodded. This was weird. She didn’t have a claim on Jason, who thought she was Monica. She didn’t have a claim on Bill either, who thought she was Jane, but the Jane Monica had been, who couldn’t be anything like the Jane she was now...

  Things couldn’t be any more confusing!

  “But he likes you,” Monica said, still holding the card.

  “It doesn’t feel right for some reason,” Jane admitted.

  “I know. But neither does me going out with Jason. It isn’t fair if I get both of them.” She giggled. “Listen to me. That sounds silly.”

  “What else can we do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you still care for Jason?” Jane asked, hoping Monica would say she honestly didn’t.

  Still, what would that do for her anyway? Jane wasn’t the tall, skinny bombshell Monica was. What hope did she have that even if given the chance Jason would be able to see past her plain-Jane features?

  “Yes, I do care about him. He’s a very sweet guy. Attractive, giving, caring.”

  That wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear, but that was probably for the better anyway. She nodded and bit her upper lip in an effort to keep it from quivering. “Have a great time tonight.”

  “I’m sorry,” Monica said, standing. “I can tell this is upsetting you.”

  “It’s not your fault. I knew what I was getting into when I decided to get involved. I could’ve stayed out of it and let you work it out later.”

  Monica leaned down, took Jane’s hand in hers, and gave it a slight squeeze. “I owe you. Big time. Any favor. You name it.”

  Jane forced a smile, even though her insides felt like they’d been yanked from her body and run over by a Mack truck—no, a whole fleet of Mack trucks. “How about starting right now and helping me with this project? I’m having a hard time coming up with a decent layout.”

  “Fair enough.” Monica sat again and scooted the chair beside Jane’s. “What do you have so far?”

  “An empty screen?”

  Monica smiled. “Well, that’s a good start.”

  The rest of the day dragged by, and by seven that night, Jane swore the minutes were lasting at least an hour each. Time had slowed to a snail’s pace.

  Hour after hour she sat alone in her little apartment staring at the TV but not comprehending the images playing on the screen. Her mind was on one thing and refused to budge from it.

  Had Jason called Monica? Were they together now? Were they making love?

  Lying on the couch, she curled into a tight ball and drew the throw up over her shoulders, clutching it tight to her chest. The apartment was dark, except the blue-tinted glow of the TV screen. And silent except for the tinny-toned voices coming from the junky TV’s half-blown speakers.

  “Damn it,” she called into the night. “Why did I have to come back now? I wasn’t ready yet.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Jason flipped open the black velvet-covered box again, to admire the gorgeous platinum setting and even more beautiful brilliant cut five-carat diamond nestled between two half-carat natural rubies on either side. The ring was one of a kind, a true work of art.

  He was proud to be able to present it to Monica. But outside of pride, he felt surprisingly void of emotion. He’d always assumed this moment he’d be an emotional wreck, not his cool, calm self.

  Part of his lack of enthusiasm he attributed to Monica’s seeming reversion to her old self the past few days. While she wasn’t exactly the self-centered, spoiled girl-woman she had been previously, she wasn’t the warm, caring, genuine woman he’d spent the last couple of weekends with either. How could her personality yo-yo back and forth so drastically? Was it hormonal? If so, he could only imagine what she’d be like when she was pregnant.

  But he wasn’t about to let a few doubts hold him back now. He’d made a promise to her Tuesday and by God, he’d live by it. She had greeted him with so much enthusiasm when he’d returned from his most recent trip. She acted like she hadn’t seen him in weeks, made promises he’d never thought he’d hear spoken from her lips and then told him she was ready for marriage and asked if his last proposal was still good.

  What other response could he give?

  It had taken him a few days to see she’d changed again, but he couldn’t break a promise over a little bit of moodiness. She’d said she missed him, needed him, couldn’t stand being without him. What more could he want?

  He stuffed the box in his pocket and knocked on her front door. It was time to make the commitment he’d waited for.

  When Monica answered the door, it was clear she knew exactly what was coming. Her smile was dazzling, her clothing, hair and makeup perfect, exactly the way he’d come to expect. She didn’t wait for him to enter before she li
fted her arms and looped them around his neck. Yet her lackluster embrace stirred little response from him, not even mild lust. She brushed her lips over his cheek and he made no effort to make the kiss more intimate.

  Chemistry, or rather lack thereof, did not mean a marriage was doomed.

  “Hello, sweetheart.” She dropped her arms, captured his hands in hers and walked backward into the house, pulling him in with her. “You said you had something to ask me?”

  Knowing he had no reason to delay, he dropped on one knee in the middle of her living room, extracted the box from his pocket, and asked, “Monica Starke, will you marry me?”

  She looked as happy as he’d expect any woman to be as she watched him flip open the box and pluck the diamond ring from it. “Yes, I will.”

  He slid the ring on her finger. It was done.

  *

  Monica didn’t show up for work for the rest of the week, not only leaving Jane to wonder what had happened with Jason on Tuesday night but also struggling to complete her projects without the benefit of her brainstorming partner. She did the best she could at work—the results a far cry from spectacular—and nights she made every effort to keep busy. Spending hour upon hour imagining what was happening between Monica and Jason got old after one torturous night. She had pride. Allowing herself to succumb to pointless what-ifs just wasn’t acceptable.

  Instead, she took a second look at her finances and discovered she could actually afford buying a house of her own. Scouring the homes for sale on the Internet was a very potent salve, though it didn’t obliterate the pain of losing Jason completely.

  That Sunday, she even hit a few open houses nearby and found a very personable, down-to-earth real estate agent to work with. Her quest to buy a home was in full gear. Fall wasn’t the best time of year to house shop, with fewer homes on the market. But the ones that were tended to be sold by more motivated sellers, meaning a better opportunity to find a deal.

  Monday morning, she headed to work with spirits lifted and her eye on another raise. Come hell or high water, she’d prove to Mr. Kaufmann that she could deliver!

  Unfortunately, her mood soured shortly after arriving when Monica pulled her into her office and flashed a rock the size of Mt. Everest and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame. The ring was noticeably positioned on her left ring finger.

  “He proposed,” Monica said in an excited voice as she urged Jane to sit. “And I know what you’re thinking—”

  “What do you think I’m thinking?” Jane asked as she reluctantly lowered herself onto the chair.

  “That I said I didn’t want to get married.” Monica rounded her desk and took her seat.

  “Right.” Not even close, but that’s okay. “So, what about that itty-bitty, insignificant detail?”

  “Well, I did some soul-searching after Jason popped the question—he did it at my house, couldn’t even wait until we got to our favorite restaurant. It was so romantic.” Monica clasped her hands together and closed her eyes, visibly sighing. The sight was a bit sickening but Jane struggled to maintain a smile. “I got caught up in the moment and without thinking said yes.”

  Thank God, she’s doubting her decision. Shoot, what am I saying? This is what I wanted for her, isn’t it? “So you don’t really want to marry him?”

  Monica nodded enthusiastically. “I think I do. I mean, I spent the rest of the weekend considering it and I have to say I’m excited.”

  “Really?”

  Monica produced a thick wedding magazine from somewhere under her desk and began flipping through the pages. “I’ve never been a sappy romantic, but a fancy wedding with all the best—caterers, photographers, a wedding planner—sounds really fun. I’m thinking of doing a theme wedding, maybe getting married New Year’s Eve. Wouldn’t that be a riot? Look here.” She held up the magazine and pointed at a page of wedding attendees dressed in black, white and silver.

  “An absolute gas,” Jane said dryly.

  Monica set the magazine down and gazed directly into Jane’s eyes. “And I want you to be my maid of honor.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Oh no. If it wasn’t for you, Jason would still hate me for giving away his grandmother’s old junk.”

  It wasn’t junk. Jane had to avert her gaze. Monica’s direct eye contact was making her very uncomfortable. She reached across the desk and pulled the magazine closer, staring blindly at the open page. “Don’t you have a sister or an old friend from college you should ask instead? I mean, shouldn’t your maid of honor be someone special you’ve known for a long, long time? A lot longer than we’ve known each other?”

  “Nope. Besides, we have known each other long, since high school.”

  “I had no idea you’d noticed me back then.”

  “I didn’t but I take your word for it. Who cares how long it’s been! You deserve this honor. Please say yes!” She stood and reached across the desk, clasping Jane’s hand between hers, forcing Jane to look up. “Pretty please?”

  Jane wiggled her fingers, pulling her hand free from Monica’s tight grasp. “I don’t know. I’ve never been a maid of honor before. Doesn’t it require a lot of work?”

  “No, just a little.”

  Jane glanced down at the magazine, this time really seeing the picture. The clothes were fancy, the flowers, the wedding gown... “And I can tell you’re planning the wedding of the century. What if I pick the wrong flowers? Or contract the wrong band? Or sit Aunt LouLou next to Uncle Hank, the man she’s hated all her life?”

  “Those aren’t your jobs, silly.”

  “See? I told you. I don’t know anything about being maid of honor. Or even about planning a wedding.”

  Monica sat and bent to the right to reach down for something under her desk. “That’s okay. I’m hiring a wedding planner. She’s the best in the Midwest.”

  “Midwest what?”

  “States, silly!” Monica slid a piece of paper across the desk toward Jane.

  Jane skimmed the contents, a printout of a website. “You’re hiring a wedding planner from out of state? Is that wise?”

  “Sure it is! Don’t you see? She planned Oprah’s wedding for God’s sake! How could I go wrong?”

  “Oprah who?” Jane looked at the web printout again, wondering what she’d missed.

  “Winfrey. You know. The woman on TV, you silly goof!”

  “Is she married?”

  “Yep. And my wedding planner did her wedding. It was on her website. See there?” Monica pointed at the paper.

  “This website? Where?” Jane read over the contents of the website again but found no reference to Oprah Winfrey. Was her eyesight failing or was Monica imagining things again?

  “Yes. I know it’s there.” Monica took the piece of paper from Jane and skimmed it before continuing, “Oh. I guess I missed that page. It’s on another one. She’s planned hundreds of weddings, including the weddings of celebrities like Oprah.”

  “I swear last week I read Oprah’s still single.”

  “You probably read it in an outdated article somewhere or in one of those celebrity trash rags. They’re not exactly known for accuracy.”

  “Maybe. But if I were you, I’d check her references. She did provide a list of references, didn’t she?”

  “Are you crazy? I’m not going to ask her that.”

  “Why not? This is going to be the most important day of your life. Don’t you think you should check her out?”

  Shaking her head, Monica returned the paper to whatever file she’d fished it from. “And risk insulting her? No way! I already gave her a retainer. I’ll lose it if I don’t hire her now.”

  “A retainer? Like for an attorney? Is that standard practice?”

  Monica shrugged. “She said it is.”

  Jane could sense this wedding planner was not all she claimed to be. The word “rip-off” was echoing sharply in her head and even though she knew Monica wouldn’t listen, she felt compelled to try to talk some sense in
to her anyway. She was stubborn like that, or foolish, depending upon how she looked at it. “Okay. Forget about the whole Oprah thing for a moment and think about this. How can a woman from another state possibly know where the best locations, caterers and bands are here in Michigan? Where’s she located anyway?”

  “Idaho.”

  “Idaho? Your top-notch celebrity wedding planner lives in Idaho? Where they grow potatoes?”

  “That’s not all they do there. Besides, if you think about it, Idaho is centrally located—”

  “Centrally located between what? Two potato fields?”

  Monica sneered. “Very funny.”

  “Seriously, I see disaster looming.”

  “Don’t say that! You’re going to jinx me.” Monica spun around in her chair, facing the credenza behind her. “Anyway, I won’t take no for an answer. So like it or not, you’re my maid of honor. And as chosen maid of honor, it’s your job to go check out this location this Friday night.” She snatched up a business card and turning, thrust it at Jane.

  Jane waved her hands. “Oh no. Don’t leave this to me. The last party I planned—a simple outdoor barbeque—was a complete disaster. The food burned, there was a tornado...half the attendees ended up being blown into the lake... Anyway, I thought this was the wedding planner’s job. I’m sure you’re paying her good money. Don’t you think she should earn it?”

  “She’s busy this weekend with another wedding and I need to secure a location pronto. It can’t wait.” She stood and shuffled around the desk then dropped to her knees. It was a very dramatic gesture and if it wasn’t for the genuine expression on Monica’s face, Jane would have assumed it was merely a manipulation tactic. Long fingers tipped with perfectly manicured, red-painted nails curled around the metal arm of Jane’s chair. “Please. I’m begging you. I know I’ve been a total snot to you in the past and I don’t deserve your help, but I honestly need it. You know I’ve learned a lot, thanks to our little switch, and I appreciate where you’re coming from now. I swear I won’t take you for granted again.”

  Gosh, darn it, Jane felt the urge to say yes welling up inside. When Monica was humble, like this particular moment, she was charming.