The CEO Buys in (Wager of Hearts #1)

by Nancy Herkness

  “Angel’s sister, Sarita.” Nathan’s voice went tight.

  As Sarita reached the front of the church, the music changed to the “Wedding March,” and the congregation stood. A small woman wearing a short, floating cream chiffon dress started down the aisle. Her bouquet held peach roses, and the same flowers were woven into the dark-brown braid circling her head like a coronet. As she came closer, a waft of air-conditioning flattened the chiffon against the bride’s stomach, and Chloe could see the telltale swell of pregnancy.

  She turned forward as the bride passed and caught an expression of such heartbreaking joy and uncertainty on the groom’s face that tears pricked at her eyes.

  “Your father loves her,” she whispered.

  He glanced down at her. “He loved my mother. He loved me. It made no difference in how he treated us.”

  Chloe sucked in a breath as the truth hit her. Nathan disliked Angel because his father treated her differently—better—than he had his first wife. He didn’t want his father to be kinder and more considerate of his second wife. It would make his mother seem less worthy somehow. She could understand and even sympathize with his feelings, but they would separate him from the father whose approval he still sought.

  She tucked her hand into the crook of Nathan’s elbow, hoping she could pull some of the tension from him.

  The minister motioned them to sit, and the ceremony proceeded. When Nathan’s father kissed his new wife, he did so with a tenderness and passion that brought forth a soft, collective sigh from the female wedding guests.

  “We ask the congregation to precede the bride and groom from the church for the traditional arch of sabers,” the minister announced before he gave the blessing and the organ and trumpet once again swelled into triumphant sound.

  Chloe was excited about seeing the famous crossed swords. As the family followed the three wedding attendants down the aisle, she noticed the curious gazes aimed at Nathan and her. People at the base were interested in the famous prodigal son.

  They came out the doors to find four Marines indicating where guests should stand on either side of the walk leading from the church. The southern sun shed enough heat to make it uncomfortably warm, but the bulk of the guests were military and stood straight and tall in their dark jackets with their white hats on. As soon as the last guest exited, Chloe heard a barked command from inside. Into the light marched a Marine with two lines of four of his fellow soldiers following him in perfect unison. They proceeded between the two walls of guests until their leader snapped another command. The two lines halted, pivoted, and drew their swords as one, holding the sabers point down until two more Marines reopened the church doors.

  The bride and groom emerged and stopped as the honor guard’s commander brought his troops to attention, their swords held upright against their shoulders.

  “Present swords,” he ordered.

  The sword tips crossed, forming the arch. General Trainor and Angel trod solemnly through the arch. As they passed, each pair of Marines lowered their swords back to their sides until the couple reached the final two. Those brought their sabers down in front of the wedding couple, forcing them to a halt. The honor guard’s commander lowered his voice to say, “You must kiss the bride to pass.”

  “By whose orders?” the general snapped back.

  “Cupid’s, sir,” the commander said, breaking into a grin.

  “Never heard of him,” the general said. “Must be some rock from Washington.” Everyone except the honor guard laughed. They were still standing stiffly at attention. “Well, at least it’s an order that won’t get me in trouble.” He bent and kissed Angel softly on the lips.

  The obstructing swords were lifted, and the guests applauded as the general and his bride slid into a waiting limousine. The sword bearers returned their weapons to their scabbards with a snick of metal, and the crowd dispersed to their cars.

  Chloe had been so caught up in the beauty and precision of the ceremony that she hadn’t noticed the perspiration trickling down her spine. As Nathan drew her toward their limo where it waited just across the road, she grimaced at the dampness. “That’s an impressive way to make an exit,” she said.

  “The Marines are good at pomp and circumstance,” Nathan said in a tone that indicated he wasn’t impressed at all.

  Ed and Ben caught up with them.

  “Why couldn’t they do that indoors?” Ben complained, blotting his forehead with his coat sleeve.

  “Marines don’t feel heat or cold,” Nathan said with that same edge.

  “The hell they don’t,” Ed said. “They’re just tougher than a little weather.”

  “I thought it was magnificent,” Chloe said.

  “They know how to put on a show,” Ben agreed, standing aside as Nathan handed Chloe into the backseat.

  She slid gratefully onto the cool, smooth leather. The driver had placed glasses of iced water with lemon slices in the cup holders. Chloe snatched one up, drinking down half of it in one long, deliciously chilled gulp.

  Ben dropped onto his seat and grabbed another glass. “What I wouldn’t give to just pour this over my head,” he said.

  “The officers’ club is air-conditioned,” Nathan said as he folded himself in beside Chloe. He surprised her by taking her hand. She scooted closer to him since he seemed to want her physical presence.

  After a short drive, the limousine drew up in front of another white-trimmed brick building. This one had two long, covered porticoes leading to the doors. Once again, they followed a crowd of uniformed guests into the club, where air-conditioning welcomed them. They passed walls covered with the Marine insignia and arrived in a large room with deep blue patterned carpeting, brass chandeliers, and white linen–covered tables set around a parquet dance floor. Classical music played softly as the bride and groom stood near the door greeting their guests.

  Chloe decided not to comment on how the bride radiated happiness, but it was true. Maybe it was because she was pregnant, but Angel’s face glowed, her smile lighting up every time she received a guest’s good wishes. When she looked up at her new husband, the smile both grew and softened.

  Nathan’s grip on her hand became tighter the closer they got to the newlyweds. She reached across and laid her other hand over the back of his, making her borrowed bracelet glitter. “I won’t leave you, I promise,” she murmured.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, easing the pressure.

  Then it was their turn. Chloe braced herself, wondering what sort of greeting Angel would give them. From what Ed had told her, Nathan had not been cordial toward the woman he considered his mother’s usurper.

  But the bride’s smile did not falter or dim. “Nathan, you were so good to come,” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders so he would bend to let her kiss his cheek. “I know it wasn’t easy for you.”

  Chloe felt him stiffen. “It seemed like too important an occasion to miss,” he said. “Angel, meet Chloe Russell.” He moved Chloe forward so she stood in front of him almost like a shield.

  “Best wishes to you for a happy future,” Chloe said, holding out her hand.

  Angel drew her in for a hug. “Thank you, my dear. I feel as though I’m carrying our future with me,” she said, resting one palm on the soft swell of her stomach. “Strange miracles sometimes happen.”

  A shudder passed through Nathan. Chloe quickly moved sideways to get him away from Angel. That brought them face-to-face with General Trainor.

  “Congratulations, sir,” Nathan said, squaring his shoulders and offering his hand to his father.

  Ironically, Nathan’s posture was more rigid than the general’s. The older man pulled his son in for one of those quick, hard hugs men give each other. Chloe let her hand slide loose from Nathan’s arm so he couldn’t use her for that shielding maneuver again.

  When the general stepped back, Chloe could see a glitter of moisture in his eyes. Hope bloomed in her chest. The father was prepared to embrace his son. Now she just had
to get Nathan to meet his father halfway . . . or even a quarter of the way. She got the sense that General Trainor would be willing to go the extra distance.

  The general touched the hilt of the antique sword that hung in its scabbard on his belt. “Having this with me for the ceremony was something I hadn’t hoped for and probably didn’t deserve. Thank you for your generosity.”

  “You’re thanking the wrong person,” Nathan said, putting his arm around Chloe’s waist to nudge her in front of him. “She’s responsible for the sword’s presence.”

  When disappointment shadowed the general’s eyes, Chloe wanted to stomp her stiletto heel hard on the arch of Nathan’s foot. “He’s exaggerating,” she said. “I’m sure you know that Nathan doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to.” She deliberately did not look at Nathan to see how he reacted to her statement. Instead she stood on tiptoe to give the general a peck on the cheek. “Many congratulations, sir. You and Angel make a lovely couple.”

  “Well, she’s lovely, and I make us a couple,” Nathan’s father said, a spark of humor on his face. He took both of Chloe’s hands and gave them a squeeze. “It’s good to have you here, young lady. I’m glad my son brought you.” He gave Nathan a shrewd look. “Or you brought my son. Either way works for me.”

  Chloe slanted a look up at Nathan. His brows were drawn together in what she thought might be regret. “I wish you and Angel happiness together,” he said. “I think you’ve earned a chance at it.”

  His father’s posture stiffened and Chloe waited to see what that meant. “That’s a good wish,” the general said, “and a surprising one. I accept it with humility and gratitude.” He shifted his gaze back to Chloe. “Stick with him, Chloe. We Trainor men improve with age.”

  She gave the general a smile as they moved away to let the next guest offer congratulations. Nathan led her toward the bar across the room, muttering, “Let’s get something to dull our senses.”

  “Is it that hard to be civil to your father?” she asked with genuine puzzlement.

  He stopped in the middle of the dance floor and frowned down at her. “Civil, no. Sincere, yes. Celebrating his marriage to his pregnant girlfriend is not something I’m able to feel joy about.”

  “You sounded sincere when you said he deserved a chance at happiness. And it surprised him.”

  He gave a tight smile. “Surprising the general is an accomplishment in itself.” He looked down at the floor. “My mother’s mental health issues were not his fault. He didn’t handle them well, but he didn’t create them.” He took a deep breath. “No one deserves to go through the hell of having his wife commit suicide.”

  He lifted his eyes to hers, and they were bleak with pain. She wanted to wrap herself around him and make him forget. Instead she cupped her palm against his cheek, feeling the satin of his freshly shaved skin. “You don’t need a drink. You’ve forgiven him.”

  He made a gesture of disagreement. “There’s a difference between understanding and forgiveness.”

  “One leads to the other.”

  “You’re an eternal optimist.” He took her hand away from his face and used it to move her toward the bar again. “A glass of champagne and a scotch on the rocks.”

  “Here you are, Mr. Trainor.” The bartender handed the slim glass flute to Nathan with a smile before he picked up a scotch bottle. He was a short, sturdy man, his sandy hair shot through with streaks of silver.

  “Thanks,” Nathan said, passing the flute to Chloe as recognition dawned in his eyes. “Dino Sparks,” he said. “I can’t believe you’re still here. How are you? And when the hell did you start calling me Mr. Trainor?”

  The two men shook hands. “You’re a big shot in New York now,” Dino said, going back to pouring the scotch.

  “I wouldn’t be if you hadn’t taught me everything I know about electrical wiring.”

  Dino’s face lit up, but he shook his head. “I showed you a few tricks, that’s all. You got smarter than me fast.”

  “Chloe, I’d like you to meet my mentor, Dino. I did a lot of my best tinkering in his workshop. I think I still owe him a replacement tone probe amplifier.” The lines around Nathan’s mouth had lightened as he introduced them.

  She shook hands with the bartender. “I love meeting Nathan’s old friends. Did he ever blow anything up?”

  Dino burst out laughing. “Ever? He caught something on fire at least once a week.”

  Nathan grinned. It was like watching him when he slept; he became a younger, more carefree version of himself. “I did it on purpose, you know.”

  “He liked to set off the fire alarm,” Dino said, nodding. He looked around and lowered his voice. “Just to annoy his father.”

  Chloe wished Dino hadn’t mentioned the general, but Nathan’s grin didn’t waver. “And it worked,” he said with relish.

  Just as she was about to prod Dino for more stories, Uncle Fred’s voice boomed through the loudspeakers. “General and Mrs. Trainor invite everyone to join them on the floor to share their first dance as a married couple.”

  The lilting strains of a waltz swelled through the room as the general led Angel to the center of the room. After a second of standing in perfect stillness, Nathan’s father spun his new wife into a graceful turn in time to the music. Guests lined the edge of the dance floor, watching the couple move together with fluid ease. After one circuit of the floor, the general barked, “Does no one know how to follow a simple order? Get out here and dance.”

  Laughter rose from the crowd, and a few couples did some tentative box steps. None could hold a candle to the general and his bride.

  Suddenly, Nathan took the champagne flute from Chloe’s hand and set it on the bar beside his scotch. “Let’s give them some competition.”

  “Wait . . . what?”

  “We’re obeying the general’s orders.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and propelled her toward the dance floor while she tried to walk slowly, hoping the music would change. She was wearing high slender heels and a straight skirt, not optimal waltzing attire. Not to mention the fact that she hadn’t had a waltz partner in, oh, ten years at least.

  The music was still going when Nathan led her onto the parquet and turned her around to face him. She took a deep breath and put her left hand on his shoulder, feeling the solidity of him through the light wool of his suit. When he put his hand on the small of her back, she felt a zing of exhilaration along with her nerves. Then he took her right hand in his, his arm strong and firm so she could rely on it for guidance. They stood still, looking into each other’s eyes for a moment as the music came to the end of a phrase. She shifted her grip on his shoulder, and he gave a tiny nod.

  Then he was spinning her around the floor with the same expertise as his father. For the first few steps she was stiff with worry that she would stumble and embarrass both of them.

  “You’re thinking too much,” Nathan murmured as he stopped twirling to allow her to catch her breath and balance for a split second. “I’ll support you.”

  “I—” Chloe shut up as he swung her into another dizzying circle. He flattened his palm on her back and pressed her closer so their bodies were touching. Now she could feel the shift in his weight, the subtle lean to one side or another, the change of angle in his elbow, and she could let him take her wherever he wanted.

  She forgot they were competing with the general. She forgot that Ed, Ben, and a platoon of Marines were watching. She even forgot the bet. It was all Nathan, his gray eyes locked on her face, the strength of his arms enveloping her, the heady feeling of melding together both bodies and minds to move as one. She wanted the music to go on forever.

  But it stopped and applause rippled around them.

  Nathan finished the turn and brought them to a halt, his eyes lit with something like the same elation she felt. “You make a good partner in all kinds of situations,” he said.

  Her delight dimmed at his ambiguous words. All the realities of the situation crashed back into her.


  “I see those dance classes your mother forced you to take weren’t wasted.” General Trainor walked up to them, his arm around Angel’s waist. He smiled at Chloe. “The mothers of all the teenage girls got up the money to start a dancing class, but they needed partners. So the teenage boys got to attend free, which made their mothers apply serious pressure.”

  Nathan didn’t smile. “Once we found out we were not only allowed, but expected, to put our arms around the girls, it wasn’t so hard to persuade us.”

  Chloe smiled for him. “I can imagine the hormones raging in that room.”

  “My cousins Brenda and Sally went to that class,” Angel said. “They spent half their time moving the boys’ hands back up to their waists.”

  Chloe slanted a glance up at Nathan. He still refused to smile. When she looked back at Angel, the other woman gave her an almost imperceptible shrug, as if to say they had both tried their best.

  Fortunately, another couple came to speak with the newlyweds, so Chloe tugged Nathan off the dance floor.

  “You know, I actually enjoyed dancing with you,” she said. “Until you ruined it by making it about your father.”

  Although he didn’t flinch, she could tell that she’d startled him. “It wasn’t about my father when we were dancing.” He stroked his thumb over the skin on the inside of her wrist. “I wanted to waltz you right out of the room and into a closet where I could lock the door and have you up against the wall.” His voice was low and intense.

  “That was only because you thought you were winning the dance contest.” But his touch and his words sent a streak of electric arousal up her arm and back down low in her belly.

  “No, it was because your body and mine were perfectly attuned. I could practically feel your thoughts through my hands. I wanted to be inside you with that happening.”

  Chloe swallowed hard as his words vibrated through her, spinning into a tightly coiled ball of sheer desire between her legs. “Where’s that closet you mentioned?” she managed to choke out.

  His thumb went still as his grip on her hand tightened. “I can find one in sixty seconds flat.”