What bothered Nolan more than anything about his great-grandmother setting her schemes on him was that she of all people knew what he’d gone through with Andrea Dunmire. Specifically, the hurt, pain and humiliation she had caused him. Not to mention her cunning, scheming and underhanded manipulations. Yes, it had been years ago and he had gotten over it, but there were some things you didn’t forget. A woman ripping your heart out of your chest was one of them.
Andrea had meticulously plotted and carried out her plan while conspiring with her cousin to do so. He had learned a hard lesson he would never forget. As a result, he would not allow anyone—not even his great-grandmother—to manipulate him into doing anything he didn’t want to do. If he wasn’t on board then the hell with it.
Nolan knew in his heart his great-grandmother’s intentions were good. He could even believe that she might have a golden thumb where matchmaking was concerned. But his feelings about being manipulated and controlled by anyone, including Felicia Laverne Madaris, wouldn’t change. He intended to resist, defy and oppose whatever trick, tactic or scheme her pretty little mind conjured up with every fiber of his being.
His cell phone rang. Recognizing the ringtone, he pulled it out of his pocket and answered, “Yes, Corbin?”
“Hey, man, I just wanted to check on you. We saw you tear out of here like the devil himself was after you. It’s Christmas and we thought you would stay the night at Whispering Pines and continue to party like the rest of us.”
Whispering Pines was their uncle Jake’s ranch. Nolan took another sip of his beer before saying, “I couldn’t stay knowing Mama Laverne is already plotting my downfall. You wouldn’t believe what she told me.”
“We weren’t standing far away and heard.”
Nolan shook his head in frustration. “So now all of you know that Mama Laverne’s friend’s granddaughter is the woman she’s picked out for me.”
“Yes, and we got a name. Reese and I overheard Mama Laverne tell Aunt Marilyn that your future wife’s name is Ivy Chapman.”
“Like hell the woman is my future wife.” Nolan had never met her and didn’t intend to. “All this time I thought Mama Laverne was plotting to marry the woman’s granddaughter off to Lee. She set me up real good.”
Corbin didn’t say anything and Nolan was glad because for the moment he needed the silence. It didn’t matter to him one iota that so far, every one of his cousins whose wives had been selected by his great-grandmother were madly in love with their spouses and saw her actions as a blessing and not a curse. What mattered was that she should not have interfered in the process. And what bothered him more than anything was knowing that he was next on her list. He didn’t want her to find him a wife. When and if he was ready for marriage, he was certainly capable of finding one on his own.
“You’ve come up with a plan?” Corbin interrupted Nolan’s thoughts to ask.
Nolan thought of the diabolical plan his cousin Lee had put in place to counteract their great-grandmother’s shenanigans and guaranteed to outsmart Mama Laverne for sure. However, in the end, Lee’s plan had backfired.
“No, why waste my time planning anything? I simply refuse to play the games Mama Laverne is intent on playing. What I’m going to do is ignore her foolishness and enjoy my life as the newest eligible Madaris bachelor.”
He could say that since at thirty-four, he was ten months older than Corbin, who would be next on their great-grandmother’s hit list. “By the time I make my rounds, there won’t be a single woman living in Houston who won’t know I’m not marriage material. Especially one Miss Ivy Chapman,” Nolan added.
Corbin chuckled. “That sounds like a plan to me.”
“Not a plan just stating my intentions. I refuse to let Mama Laverne shove a wife that I don’t want down my throat just because she thinks she can and that she should.”
After ending the call with his brother, Nolan swallowed the last of his beer. Like he’d told Corbin, he didn’t have a plan and wouldn’t waste time coming up with one. What he intended to do was to have fun; as much fun as any single man could possibly have.
A huge smile touched his lips as he left the balcony. Walking into his condo he headed for his bedroom. Quickly removing the tux, he changed into a pair of slacks and a pullover sweater. The night was still young and there was no reason for him not to go out and celebrate the holiday.
As he moved toward his front door, he started humming “Jingle Bells”. Let the fun begin.
CHAPTER ONE
FIFTEEN MONTHS LATER…
NOLAN CLICKED OFF his mobile phone, satisfied with the call he’d just ended with Lee about his cousin’s newest hotel, the Grand MD Paris. Construction of the huge mega-structure had begun three weeks ago. Already it was being touted by the media as the hotel of the future and Nolan would have to agree.
This would be the third hotel Lee and his business partner DeAngelo Di Meglio had built. And knowing Lee and DeAngelo like he did, Nolan expected the Grand MD Paris to open its doors on time in two years with a fanfare the likes of a presidential inauguration.
Nolan’s company, Madaris Innovations, would provide all the electronic and technology work for the Grand MD Paris; some would be the first of its kind anywhere. All high tech and trend changing. It would be Nolan’s first project of this caliber and he appreciated Lee and DeAngelo for giving him the opportunity.
After getting a master’s graduate degree at MIT, Nolan had begun working for Chenault Electronics at their Chicago office. Chenault Electronics was considered one of the top ten electronics companies in the world. The owner, Nicholas Chenault, was a family friend and had taken Nolan under his wing and had not only been his boss but his mentor as well. After working eight years for Chenault, Nolan had returned to Houston to start his own company.
Nolan leaned back in his chair. He had returned from spending two weeks in Paris just yesterday. In a way, he regretted being back in Houston. Before leaving he had done everything in his power to become the life of every party, and his reputation as Houston’s number one playboy had been cemented. In some circles, he’d been pegged as Houston’s One Night-Stander since most of his dates were one-night stands. Now that he was back, that role had to be revived.
It hadn’t taken him long to discover the life of a Casanova was pretty damn taxing and way too demanding. The nights of mindless, emotionless sex with women whose names he barely remembered wasn’t all that it was cracked up to me. He only hoped that Ivy Chapman’s grandmother and his great-grandmother were getting the message—he had no intentions of settling down anytime soon. At least not in the next twenty-five years or so.
Unfortunately, it seemed nothing was deterring Ivy Chapman.
Nolan picked up the envelope on top of the stack on his desk. He knew what it was and who it had come from. He recalled getting the first one three months ago and had received several more since then. He wondered why Ivy Chapman was still sending him these little personal notes when he refused to acknowledge them. All of the notes said the same thing… Nolan, I would love to meet you. Call me so it can be arranged. Here is my number…
Nolan didn’t give a royal flip what her phone number was since he had no intentions of calling her. He would continue to ignore Miss Chapman and any correspondence she sent him. No matter what, he refused to give in to his great-grandmother’s matchmaking shenanigans. He refused to be manipulated.
Tossing the envelope aside he picked up his cell phone to call his family and let them know he was back. He had slept off jet lag most of yesterday and hadn’t talked to anyone other than his cousin Reese and his brother Corbin. Reese and his wife, Kenna, were expecting their first baby in June and everyone was excited.
Nolan ended the call with his parents, stood and walked over to the window to look out. Like most of his relatives, he leased space in the Madaris Building. His electronics company was across the hall from Madaris Explorations, owned by his older cousin Dex.
He loved Houston in March but it alway
s brought out dicey weather. You had some warm days but there were days when winter refused to fade in the background while spring tried emerging. He was ready for warmer days and couldn’t wait to spend time at the cottage he’d purchased last year on Tiki Island that was on the Galveston Bay. He’d hired Ron Seamore as property manager to handle the leasing of the cottage whenever he wasn’t using it. So far it had turned out to be not only a great investment, but also a splendid getaway place whenever he needed a break from the demands of his job, life itself and yes, of course, the women who tried demanding his time.
The buzzer sounded and he walked back over to his desk. “Yes, Marlene?” Marlene was an older woman in her fifties who’d worked as his administrative assistant since he started the company three years ago.
“There’s a woman here to see you, Mr. Madaris. She doesn’t have an appointment and says it’s important.”
Nolan frowned, glancing at his watch. It wasn’t even ten in the morning. Who would show up at his office without an appointment and at this hour? “Who is she?”
“A Miss Ivy Chapman.”
He guessed she was tired of sending notes that went unanswered. Hadn’t she heard around town what a scoundrel he was? The last man any woman should be interested in? So what was she doing here?
There was only one way to find out.
“Send her in, Marlene.”
“Yes, Mr. Madaris.”
Nolan had eased into his jacket and straightened his tie before his office door swung open. The first thing he saw was a huge bouquet of flowers that was bigger than the person carrying them. Why was the woman bringing him flowers? Did she honestly think a huge bouquet of flowers would work when her cute little notes hadn’t?
He couldn’t see the woman’s face for the huge vase of flowers and without saying a word, not even so much as a good morning, she plopped the monstrosity on his desk with a loud thump. It’s a wonder the vase hadn’t cracked. Hell, maybe it had. He could just imagine water spilling all over his desk.
Nolan looked from the flowers that were taking up entirely too much space on his desk to the woman who’d unceremoniously placed them there. He was not prepared for the beauty of the soft brown eyes behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses or the perfect roundness of her face and the creamy cocoa coloring of her complexion. And he couldn’t miss the fullness of her lips that were pursed tight in anger.
“I’m only going to warn you but this once, Nolan Madaris. Do not send me any more flowers. Doing so won’t change a thing. I’ve decided to come tell you personally, the same thing I’ve repeatedly told your great-grandmother and my grandmother. There is no way I’d ever become involved with you. Ever.”
Her words shocked him to the point that he could only stand there and stare at her. She’d crossed her arms over her chest and stared back. “Well?” she asked in a voice filled with annoyance when he continued to stare at her and say nothing. “Do I make myself clear?”
Finding his voice, Nolan said, “You most certainly do. However, there’s a problem and I consider it a major one.”
Those beautiful eyes were razor sharp and directed at him. “And just what problem is that?”
Now it was he who turned a cutting gaze on her. “I never sent you any flowers. Today or ever.”
*****
IVY CHAPMAN STARED at the man who had the gall to make such an outlandish statement. Of course he’d been sending her flowers. His name had been signed on every card. She’d gotten one bouquet after another over the past three months. And the card always said the same thing. Ivy, I would love to meet you. Call me so it can be arranged. Here is my number…
“What do you mean you didn’t send me any flowers?”
Dark eyes filled with agitation bored into her. “Just what I said. I haven’t sent you any flowers.”
“Are you, or are you not, Nolan Madaris?” She asked the question, although she knew the answer. Over the past year his face had appeared often in the Houston newspapers as one of the city’s most eligible bachelors.
“Yes, I’m Nolan Madaris. At least one of them. I’m the third. My father is the second and my grandfather is the first. However, I can say with a degree of certainty that they didn’t send you any flowers either.”
Ivy frowned. “Look at the card. If it didn’t come from you, then who did it come from?”
The man had the nerve to scowl at her before snatching the envelope off the flowers and opening it. A frown spread across his lips before he glanced back at her. “Regardless of my name being on this card, I didn’t send these flowers or any others you might have received, Miss Chapman. However, I might know who did, and it’s probably the same person who’s been sending me little notes from you.”
Surprise lit her eyes. “What little notes? I haven’t been sending you any notes.”
“You haven’t?” he asked, retrieving a small envelope from his desk and handing it to her. “Is this not from you?”
She took the envelope, opened it and pulled out the notecard inside and read it. Moments later, she shifted her gaze back to him. “Certainly not.”
He nodded. “I believe you. And just so you know, I’ve received several personal notecards over the past three months, supposedly from you. Just like you received those flowers, supposedly from me.”
Ivy paused to collect herself. It was crystal clear they’d been played. “Who on earth would…” She stopped midsentence, when a person immediately came to mind. “My grandmother.”
“And my great-grandmother,” he said.
“Ms. Laverne?” she asked as her gaze moved to the wall on the other side of his desk where a huge portrait of the woman she knew to be Felicia Laverne Madaris hung.
“You know my great-grandmother?”
“Yes,” Ivy said, returning her gaze to his. “She and my grandmother have been good friends for years. I’m told their friendship began when Nana got her first teaching job out of college.”
He nodded. “You are aware they want to matchmake us?” he asked her.
Yes, she’d been aware of it but had chosen to ignore it. “Yes, but I never thought they would go this far.”
“Well, obviously, they did,” he said, throwing the card he’d been holding down on his desk. “I don’t know about you, Miss Chapman, but I won’t put up with this,” he said in a tone filled with anger. “I refuse to be manipulated and will be dealing with my great-grandmother for her part in this.”
Ivy felt so embarrassed by how she’d stormed into his office ready to give him hell. She should have known better. Men who looked like him didn’t pursue women who looked like her. She was definitely not his type, if the tabloid pictures of him with his many, many women were anything to judge by. That fact should be obvious to his great-grandmother and her grandmother.
“I intend to deal with my grandmother as well. I just don’t understand. Of all people, my grandmother knows the last thing I’d want is to be involved with a man like you.”
His gaze narrowed. “And what exactly is ‘a man like me’?”
Did he really want her to spell it out for him? In that case, she had no problem doing so. “Mr. Madaris, you have quite a reputation around town. There obviously isn’t a commitment bone in your body. No woman in her right mind who’s looking for a serious relationship would look your way.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. A very broad, very firm, very fine-looking chest, she couldn’t help but notice. “And are you looking for a serious relationship, Miss Chapman?”
“No, and of all people my grandmother should know that. Good day, Mr. Madaris. I apologize for bothering you.”
She turned to leave with as much dignity as she could muster after such an embarrassing encounter. The reality of the situation was that they’d been played by two crafty old women. “Hey, wait a minute. And just what am I supposed to do with these flowers?”
Ivy turned back around, met his gaze and lifted her chin. She tried ignoring that dark penetrating gaze that seemed to see
to the heart of her. “The same thing you can do with those cards that I didn’t send. Trash them.”
She paused and looked at the flowers. “On second thought, they are way too pretty to be trashed.”
And they were. A huge assortment of white lilies, blue delphinium, alstroemeria and yellow roses in a beautiful ceramic vase. “I suggest you drop them off at a hospital or nursing home. That’s what I did with all the others. Or you can give them to your great-grandmother.”
And with that, Ivy turned and walked out of his office.
The SEAL who fathered Bristol's son died a hero's death…or so she was told. But now Coop is back and vowing to claim his child! Her son deserves to know his father, so Bristol must find a way to fight temptation…and keep her heart safe.
Read on for a sneak peek of
HIS SECRET SON
the latest in New York Times bestselling author Brenda Jackson’s The Westmoreland Legacy series
Bristol Lockett hurriedly moved toward her front door, wondering who would be visiting this late in the afternoon. Although it was still light outside, this particular Paris community was on the other side of town from the famous city center where most people hung out on Friday nights and weekends. Normally, she would be there herself, but her habits had changed in the last couple of months.
She was one of those pregnant women who experienced morning sickness in the morning and at night. Smells alone would send her running to the nearest bathroom. Most morning sickness lasted until the twelfth week of pregnancy. She was in her sixteenth week and there didn’t seem to be an end in sight. Her doctor had even placed her on a special diet to make sure she was getting sufficient nutrients into her body for her baby.
A Very Merry Romance Page 27