The Resilient Bride

by Lucy McConnell

  “But it sounds right.” David grinned.

  They exited the small street, and the Fontana de Trevi spread before them. “It’s busy today, busier than the last time we were here.”

  The zip and zing felt right: the energy of a dozen tourists following their guide, the young mothers spoon-feeding their babies in strollers, and the teenage boys watching the women with guarded interest. Life played out around the fountain—good lives and not-so-great lives, but life.

  David pulled three coins out of his pocket. “You know the legend?”

  “If you toss a coin over your shoulder and into the fountain, then you’re destined to return one day.”

  “Yes. This one is for you.” He placed it face-up in her open palm. “This one is for me.” He tucked it into his hand. “And this one is for Liam.” He held it up between his thumb and his finger.

  “It’s perfect.” Kiera kissed Liam’s coin.

  Kiera threw hers in first, twisting her tongue just in case the coin needed a boost to create magic. David flipped his with his thumb, and it twisted and twirled, bouncing light before plopping into the water. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they held Liam’s coin between them and tossed it over their heads. Having accomplished what they flew around the world to do, they sat on the edge of the fountain to finish their gelatos.

  Kiera’s phone beeped Skype. She hurried to answer in case it was either of their moms. “Hello?”

  Pamela’s face popped up. “Kiera, you’re looking beautiful today.”

  “Thank you, Pamela. And thank you for the flowers. They were stunning.”

  “Is that the Trevi Fountain behind you?”

  Kiera smiled. Trust Pamela to recognize the historic landmark from a Skype image. “Yes.”

  “Well, I guess I can’t talk you into coming into the office today.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I received a notice that Liam had changed his will and made you his sole beneficiary.”

  Kiera glanced at David, who lifted one shoulder. “He did what? I didn’t think he could do that with the prenup.”

  “The will is very specific and overrides our agreement.”

  “I. I don’t.” She shoved David’s shoulder. “Did you know about this?” she asked.

  “No.” David shook his head, but he was smiling. “That’s so Liam.”

  “You’ve been given his share of the family trust and multiple properties, including one in Italy you might want to check out while you’re there.”

  “I think I’ve already seen it.”

  “When you get back to the states, come see me and Harrison, and we’ll get this figured out. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Bye now.”

  Kiera tucked her phone in her back pocket. Shaking her head, she said, “I wish I could hug him right now. And then punch him in the arm. He didn’t have to do that.”

  David took both their cones and threw them over his shoulder and into the fountain.

  “David!” Kiera glanced around, frantically looking for the man with the net. She did not want an all-expense-paid tour of an Italian prison.

  David took both her hands in both of his. “Kiera, the trust is two halves of one hole. You and I are legally bound together.”

  His words were laced with preamble. “David?”

  “I love you, Kiera.”

  Kiera thought of how she’d begged the Lord for more time with Liam, who believed their love spanned eternity. Kiera believed him. But this earth, this life, was meant for a different kind of love. The kind she shared with David. Being here with the families, bright summer sunshine, and hope was an awakening of a different sort. “I love you, too.”

  David scooped Kiera into his arms and crushed her lips with his. Surprised, Kiera took a moment to respond, but once she did, she gave the kiss her all. Kissing David was like nothing she’d experienced before. His loyalty, his kindness, and his decency were tangled with a passion that had her quaking. “David,” she sighed against his lips.

  “Marry me.” David kissed her cheek, and then the soft spot behind her ear. Cupping her face in both hands, he pressed his lips to her forehead.

  “Is it too soon?” Kiera asked, her mind heady with the feeling of being wanted and adored.

  “We’ll live in Gaeta for a while.” He kissed her with passion and fervor. “We’ll call Ella, and she’ll have the whole thing arranged in two days.”

  Kiera laughed. “Ella quit.”

  “She retired. We’ll just have to pull her out of retirement for a week.”

  “I must be crazy to consider this.”

  Running his hands down her arms, David brought her fingers to his lips, kissing each one in turn. “Life is too short to live without you.”

  Kiera pressed her palm to his cheek. She stared into his love-filled eyes and heard Liam chuckle. He would not want them to be sad and low on his behalf. He’d want them to feel all there was to feel, to taste all the sweet and sour moments in life, and to stop to smell the roses, the ocean, and the pasta al dente. “Marry me today, now, David. Let’s find a church and a priest, and let’s get married.”

  “What about a dress and a cake and—”

  She pressed her finger over his lips. “It’s not about all that—it’s about love.”

  “Yes it is.” David kissed her again.

  As they ran down the narrow streets, dodging scooters and holding hands, Kiera couldn’t help but think of the last time they ran through the streets of Rome. She’d been running away from so many things, but this time, she ran towards them. The fear of never being enough for a man that had followed her into her marriage to Liam was gone, because where there was love, fear could not abide. And, with David, there would always be love.

  Want more fun contemporary mail-order bride romance? Stay caught up with the next bride and groom on Pamela’s matchmaking list in

  The Athletic Groom.

  Start reading now by clicking here.

  Or, get the whole set of Billionaire Marriage Broker Brides in this complete collection FREE in KU:

  Click here to get all 5 brides complete novels and a bonus groom novel.

  Billionaire Marriage Brokers Reading Checklist:

  The Academic Bride

  The Organized Bride

  The Professional Bride

  The Country Bride

  The Protective Groom

  The Resilient Bride

  The Athletic Groom

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  This story is an irresistible contemporary romance about a not-so-humble cop who splits his raffle ticket with an unlucky waitress and the actor who falls in love with her.

  (An It Could Happen to You retelling with a twist!)

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  The Athletic Groom

  Excerpt

  Harper’s knee was doing a great impersonation of a jumping bean as she waited to meet her groom.

  Groom?! Pamela Jones bid Billionaire Marriage Brokers as a specialized employment agency. When Harper learned that the “specialized” part actually meant “weddings,” she nearly hung up the phone. But desperate times called for desperate measures. She was holding off an all-out mutiny from the coaching staff and the press was ready to burn her at the stake.

  Not that she regretted firing Coach Adams—that knee-jerk decision was sound. But here she was ready to make another one with her hand poised over the panic button. If only her stomach would settle; it rolled around as fast as her thoughts.

  She’d been informed that her intended, for lack of a better word, had arrived earlier and was currently signing the nondisclosure statement. Harper had signed the
same documents with heartfelt gratitude that her impromptu marriage wouldn’t be leaked to the press before she had a good explanation to offer. Snorting delicately, she wondered if the right words even existed to justify marrying a man she didn’t know.

  Harper wrung her hands. Mom is going to kill me.

  Right after the reading of the will, Nora Richmond left for a grieving tour of Europe—whatever that was. She wanted to see the Scottish castle Harper’s dad had built for the two of them but never got to visit because cancer sucked his life away. She would probably spend time in the Italian countryside as well. Hopefully she would eat a lot of pasta. Jake Richmond wasn’t the only one who lost weight because of chemo. At the funeral, Mom was all bones and tears in her black dress. Though Harper understood her mom’s need to run away, she had the feeling of losing both her parents at once and struggled against the emptiness in her home and her heart.

  Looking around, she tried to take her mind off the sadness that lingered when she thought of her dad. The BMB office was modern and decorated in calming tones, which did absolutely nothing to calm Harper’s nerves. Being here was the most stupid thing she’d ever done—even more stupid than firing Payton. If she hadn’t exhausted her contacts … If she hadn’t conducted half a dozen horrible interviews … If there was anywhere else she could turn … If Pamela didn’t run a stinking marriage brokerage! Why couldn’t she have just run an employment agency like a normal person?

  Harper had balked at the whole wedding aspect, but Pamela held firm to the position that a marriage was necessary. And she promised results; her batting average was better than Ty Cobbs’s. Not that Pamela gave away any confidential information on her clients. However, the three references Harper spoke to were more than complimentary and assured her that if Pamela says she has a good feeling about things, then all would be well.

  To top that off, Pamela was recommended by one of her dad’s best friends as being completely legit. Otherwise, she would have run out of there and never looked back.

  Brushing her hair off her face, she closed her eyes and prayed Pamela had the inspiration necessary to bring Harper—nay, the entire Redrocks organization—out of the mess she’d created.

  The whoosh of a heavy wood door opening behind her caused goose bumps to break out on her arms. Rubbing them quickly, she got to her feet as gracefully as her stiff shoulders would allow and turned to greet the answer to all her problems. The guys were caught up in a discussion about Dustin Colt, the Redrocks’ shortstop, as they made their way down that hall and hadn’t noticed her yet. Which was fine—Harper took the moment to study them.

  Harrison, BMB attorney, had an athletic build with thick shoulders. College football, Harper guessed.

  Her gaze snapped to the groom, drawn there of their own accord. Cautiously thrilled at the idea of taking this guy home, Harper discreetly fluffed her hair. His eyes crinkle when he smiles.

  Harper had anticipated a kinder version of Payton. Perhaps someone who was missing hair or had a large gap in his teeth and a paunch stomach. They were on a tight turnaround and this would be the first time she learned her future husband’s name. Besides, BMB contracts were for professional marriages—she didn’t need to be attracted to her husband; she just needed to be able to work with him.

  What she found was a thirty-something roguish man with an athletic build and olive skin. His dirty blond hair was long and styled up in a messy kind of way, and he had a scruffy jaw, giving him that bad-boy air that hit right at Harper’s weak spot. Oh, how she loved those bad boys. Unfortunately, in her experience, they lived up to their title. His gray suit fit nicely over his broad frame. A blue and silver striped tie hung askew as if he’d been tugging on it, and Harper had the surprising desire to straighten it for him. The goose bumps fled as her skin flushed. This was her groom? Where did Pamela find this guy?

  Suddenly feeling shy, Harper’s gaze traveled to the young man trailing behind. He grinned when he saw her, like he knew who she was and why she was here and he was kind of happy about it all. Harper’s curiosity perked up. Almost as tall as the two men in front, the teen had a leaner look about him but was nonetheless graceful in his movements. He had a high forehead, a cleft in his chin, and his hair was shorn on the sides. When he filled out, he’d look a lot like Jackie Robinson. What drew Harper in was his optimistic attitude. It radiated off of him.

  Harrison stopped when he reached the waiting area and greeted her with a smile and an outstretched hand. “It’s nice to see you again, Miss Richmond.”

  “You too, Harrison. Please, call me Harper.”

  The teen elbowed her groom in the side. Her groom gave him a play-it-cool look as he tugged at his tie. She bit back a grin at their antics.

  Harrison began the introductions. “Harper, I’d like you to meet Isaac Wolfe and his son, Logan.”

  The name set off a series of memories. Since inheriting the team, she’d immersed herself in all things baseball. Isaac Wolfe had an interesting background—one she would need to clear before she’d let him anywhere near the front office.

  The kid didn’t have any resemblance to his dad. His black hair was cropped short and his chocolate-brown eyes were encircled by long, black lashes.

  There was something manly about Isaac his son had yet to obtain. Isaac’s firm jaw and sharp cheekbones bespoke a maturity in body and soul that spoke to Harper.

  When she finished her cursory appraisal of his features, her eyes landed on his and she thought she might be sucked right into his tiger-intense stare. Pale green in the center fading to a deep ring of emerald at the edges, Isaac’s eyes were as intense as they were beautiful.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Isaac, his voice as deep as center field and as steady as a season ticket holder.

  Harper shook his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch spread up her arm with surprising speed. “You too,” she managed before moving on to greet Logan.

  “Hi.” He pumped her hand.

  Harrison pointed down the hallway. “Pamela will be with you both in a moment. However, she instructed me to give you two private time together. If you’d like to use my office, I’ll hang out here with Logan.”

  “Yes.” Harper nodded. Right, the interview.

  Isaac motioned for her to go first, and Harper led the way at a steady pace while her mind raced through the questions she’d used in other interviews. Tossing them aside, she decided to start with the most direct and interesting question.

  She settled at the small, round table in Harrison’s office. Isaac shut the door behind them and a whiff of spice and cream drifted over Harper, enticing visions of laying her head on his oh-so-nice chest.

  Clearing her throat and her head, Harper pulled out her laptop, did a quick search for the latest article on the Bulldogs controversy, and swiveled the screen so Isaac could see.

  The moment his eyes hit the pixels, they darkened like the sea before a storm.

  “Tell me what really happened,” she invited.

  “If you read the article, then you already know,” he groused.

  Harper shook her head. “If anyone knows that there’s more to a story than what’s onscreen, it’s me, so spill.”

  She crossed her legs and leaned back, careful to keep her hands on the arms of the chair and not fold her arms across her chest. She wanted her body language to say “I’m listening.” Isaac’s answer would tell her three things. One, if she could trust him. Two, if he could trust her. Three, if this was the man she was looking for. Though at this moment, with the attraction zinging back and forth between them, she wasn’t sure if she was more interested in finding a man to be manager for the Redrocks or a man to be her husband.

  On the outside, Isaac was a whole lot of unexpected wonderful. She hoped that, on the inside, he was even better. Of course, if he was just as gooey scrumptious on the inside, she’d have a whole other set of problems on her hand. Not the least of which was her vow to never date a ball player—ever again!

 
Well, at least if I marry him, I won’t have to date him.

  Resisting the urge to twist her fingers, or sit on them, Harper stilled herself, waiting.

  Isaac rubbed his right thumb up the palm of his left hand as if he were oiling a new first base mitt. To say he was intimidated by Harper’s beauty and obvious intelligence would be as much of an understatement as saying it got kind of dark when the sun went down.

  Her long blonde hair hung loosely over her left shoulder. She had blue, almost navy eyes with small specks of silver thrown in like scattered jewels. She was taller than the average woman, putting her forehead at kissable height … and her curves! What could Isaac say? He loved a woman with curves, and Harper’s knee-length, fitted dress showed hers off nicely.

  Logan had insisted they watch her last press conference. She was like a struggling relief pitcher who was blowing the lead. Despite being frazzled, she’d toughed it out and finished the interview. Thinking about her late into the night, he came away with a deep sense of respect. Few people could do what she did.

  Which is why, when she said she knew there was more to his story than the printed word, he believed her and opened up, giving the condensed version of his confrontation with Coach Jerk and his frustration with the idea of winning at all costs. “Don’t get me wrong, I love to win. But I really, really hate to lose.”

  “And there’s a difference, isn’t there,” she quipped, finishing his reference to Moneyball. He grinned; the image of the two of them on a sofa, watching a movie together, his arm around her shoulders and her head on his chest filled his mind. The image was so clear, so inviting, that he blinked when she spoke again.

  “So why not put the injured kid in the game? He’s a closer, that’s what they do,” she asked in reference to the reason he was fired. She folded her arms.