The Beaumont Brothers: The Complete Series

by North, Leslie

  Her cheeks flushed. Okay, so she’d missed being called love. “Will you please show me what’s in your jacket?”

  “Say ‘pretty please,’” he goaded.

  “Pretty please.”

  “What sort of confections on top?” He narrowed his eyes.

  She groaned. “With cherries and sprinkles and whatever sort of crazy other stuff you guys put on ice cream in England.”

  “Well done.” He unzipped his coat far enough that a puppy head poked out. Bright blue, nearly white eyes gazed up at her, and she made a small noise of shock, covering her mouth.

  “Connall!” Tears clogged her throat. Puppies were the worst. They got to her like nothing else. “Is he yours?”

  “Actually, yes. This is Harry, which is short for Harold the Wolf Beaumont.”

  She wiped away a tear that had fallen, prompted by the wolf part of his name. “You didn’t tell me about him in your emails.”

  “Oh, so you’ve been reading them?” He sounded relieved. “Yes, this was my way of coping with your absence. I bought a wolf look-alike. A wolf-alike, I call him.”

  “He is so sweet.” She dragged her finger over the divot on the top of his head. “He’s gonna be a big boy.”

  “Like his father,” Connall said.

  She glanced up at him, biting back the grin. “You can’t just show up at my distant wilderness hut with a deed and a puppy expect everything to be fine.”

  Connall sighed exaggeratedly. “Are you serious? That was my game plan.”

  God, it was hard to roll over when she’d been so set on staying strong against him.

  “Well, that, and this: I want to be with you Bernadette. But I know this is your home. So I can come to you. If you’ll still have me, that is. I’m prepared to come to where you are. There are so many things about your lifestyle that I wanted to change…but I understand that I can’t change them, or you. But I can change myself, and my choices.”

  She blinked up at him, her bottom lip trembling. “Yeah?”

  “Yes.” He rubbed the sides of her arms, his warmth seeping into her, sealing all her doubts. Just the touch of him was enough. He was enough. Connall was right for her, despite it all.

  “I want to come live here with you and Harry,” he said softly, dragging a thumb over her cheek. “I can make my own treehouse; I’ll bring a satellite so I can keep in touch with work. And I’d like for you to introduce me to the pack. I won’t come running after you while you’re working. I just want you to do what you love, and I want to be near you while you do it.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes and she buried her face in Harry’s head as Connall’s strong arms enveloped her.

  “Those are the most romantic words I’ve ever heard,” she mumbled through sobs. Because they were. With Connall here, he filled the void that nobody and nothing else could.

  Her home was complete.

  Epilogue

  A FEW MONTHS LATER

  Connall glanced up from his conference call, something through the bay window attracting his attention. He and Gregor were on the webcam with the new majority owner of B3 Engines, Terrance, for a routine check-in. Terrance’s company was also in high performance tech, and what everyone had feared would be a hostile takeover had actually turned out to be a mutual step forward. Having more hands on deck meant that Connall could officially reside in Montana half of the time without issue. He’d installed a state-of-the-art satellite system, which usually ran without issue, and nobody had to know he was buried in the middle of nowhere.

  “Hang on, guys,” Connall said, pushing to standing. He’d built himself a cozy little office treehouse, what he sometimes called his bachelor’s yurt, though he was just a few months away from not being a bachelor ever again. He and Bernadette had fast-tracked the wedding, opting for a small but elegant ceremony in Seattle in the early summer. He was doing most of the planning, ironically, since she didn’t care much for planning big events. And who was he kidding—he was the king of details anyway.

  Gregor and Terrance chatted in the background as Connall spied on the commotion outside. Bernadette had descended to the forest floor—one of her favorite tasks, he’d come to realize. He smiled as some wolf pups circled her eagerly.

  “Okay. I’m back.” As long as Harry didn’t get sacrificed to the wolf pack, he was fine with the occasional meet and greet with the wolves. They’d done a good job keeping Harry separate from the wolves. His now much bulkier pup cocked his head up to look at Connall as he settled into his chair. He smiled at the inset screens of his brother and Terrance. “Now, where were we?”

  When Connall had let the company slip to outside investors, one of the biggest gambles of his entire existence, life had taken a surprising turn for the better. Not only was B3 approached by Terrance’s company looking to merge and grow to greater heights, not a single employee was laid off or fired, and he’d managed to find his way back into Bernadette’s life. With his own treehouse, no less.

  Connall reached down beside him, seeking the velvety ear of Harry, who tended to accompany him during conference calls. Harry had his own fenced in area nearby, separate from the wolf sanctuary, which had now grown to almost three hundred acres.

  The added space meant plenty of costly improvements but significantly more monitoring and research potential. Bernadette was happy as a clam and had hired on a few more researchers to join the team. At full capacity, there were seven of the science nerds grouped in the research hut, humming to each other about urinary habits and predatory techniques. Connall loved all of it, even if it wasn’t his passion.

  As long as he had Bernadette and his own work, he was a happy man. Harry shifted at his side. And Harry, of course. To keep his own sanity, Connall spent at least ten business days per month back in Seattle, so he could maintain that crucial connection with his employees and their lives. It turned out that the time apart each month turned him and Bernadette into even more voracious lovebirds than before.

  Connall wrapped up the call with Gregor and Terrance. After Terrance signed off, Connall said, “Gregor, one more thing.”

  “What’s up, brother?” The image went pixelated for a moment, freezing his brother’s cool smile.

  “I’ll be sending over the bridesmaid dresses for Kara and Jess,” he said, clicking over to another screen on his computer. “Bernadette is going to make her final selection tonight after dinner.”

  “Brilliant. Kara wants to arrange the flowers, by the way. She’s spot on with stuff like that. Theater and all.”

  “Of course. The job is hers.” Connall smiled. Preparing for his own wedding as a family had been one unexpected joy of many. “We’ll be back to visit for the weekend in a couple weeks. Family dinner then?”

  “You know it. But not at Alistair’s microhouse.” Gregor laughed.

  “I’m not sure their house is even big enough for them anymore, now that Jess is pregnant again.” Connall snorted. “See you soon, brother.”

  They ended the call, and Connall stretched, his chair creaking as he did. As soon as he stood, Harry was at his side, eager for some sign that they might venture outside. Connall slipped on his coat, attached Harry’s leash, and the two of them headed out over the walkway toward the main treehouse, which he was so glad to call home now.

  In the distance, Bernadette spotted them, waving from the ground, her smile infectious even from so far away. She cupped her hands around her mouth, and her voice reached him, faint but potent.

  “I love you!”

  Connall grinned, blowing kisses her way. This was their daily routine. He pushed into the side door of the treehouse, planning to show her just how much he loved her with a special homemade lunch: today, and every day they spent in the treehouse for the rest of their lives.

  End of The Billionaire’s Last Chance

  The Beaumont Brothers Book Three

  PS: Want more sexy billionaires? Then keep reading for an exclusive extract from The Billionaire’s Ex-Wife..

  Than
k you!

  Thank you so much for purchasing my book. It’s hard for me to put into words how much I appreciate my readers. If you enjoyed this book, please remember to leave a review. Reviews are crucial for an author’s success and I would greatly appreciate it if you took the time to review the book. I love hearing from you!

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  About Leslie

  Leslie North is the USA Today Bestselling pen name for a critically-acclaimed author of women's contemporary romance and fiction. The anonymity gives her the perfect opportunity to paint with her full artistic palette, especially in the romance and erotic fantasy genres.

  To discover more about Leslie North visit:

  LeslieNorthBooks.com

  PS: Want sneak peeks, giveaways, ARC offers, fun extras and plenty of pictures of bad boys? Join my Facebook group, Leslie’s Lovelies!

  BLURB

  Sam Jameson always gets what he wants and what he wants is his ex-wife.

  Sam views the world in black and white—a strong attitude that’s earned him billions in the business world and an ex-wife in the real world. What Sam wants is to choose his own future, but to do this he must pass a test set out by his older brother, and CEO: onboard his wayward brother, Eddie. Sam accepts the challenge but isn’t sure what to think when he learns that the woman he’d love and left is part of the test too.

  Trinity Jameson is a fixer. It doesn’t matter if it’s ugly furniture or an ornery employee, Trinity has the touch and she’s spent most of her life helping others achieve their best potential. But when her ex-husband comes back to town to prove he’s got a heart, Trinity makes a decision: She’s not going to fix his problems for him—no matter what his smoldering blue eyes ask of her, she’s going to say “No.” She’s determined that he’ll fix his own mess this time.

  Before Sam landed in New York, his goal was to leave the city just as fast. But when Trinity saunters into the room looking better than ever, his desire begins to shift. He realizes that what he really wants is what he can no longer have: Trinity. Sam has no trouble stoking their physical fire, but hot sex isn’t going to be enough to heal the hurt he’d caused long ago. Sam isn’t going to be dissuaded by her new found emotional wall. He helped her build it, and now he’s going to knock it down.

  Grab your copy of The Billionaire’s Ex-Wife (The Jameson Brothers Series Book One) from www.LeslieNorthBooks.com

  * * *

  SNEAK PEEK

  CHAPTER 1

  SAM

  His favorite suit was wrinkled. It didn't matter if there was only one: the wrinkle was there, leering up at him like a lopsided, mocking smile.

  Sam Jameson shook out his sleeve, but the minor imperfection remained. Minor, he thought to himself in consolation. A wrinkle that wouldn't smooth was the least of his problems today; still, it lingered in the back of his mind as much as it lingered on the otherwise crisp fabric of his suit.

  Sam distracted himself by gazing about the familiar waiting room of the New York office. He missed the East Coast more than he could express, and he wasn't an expressive man by nature—but even he could appreciate the familiar, sanitized smell of the office, the classic wooden furnishings, and the precision of the New York City skyline just outside the high window. The L.A. office always smelled like someone was secretly giving manicures in the staff kitchen, and the West Coast skyline was…quirky. Slipshod. Obscured by a permanent haze and decidedly not up to code.

  L.A. was to blame for Sam's current predicament, of that he had no doubt. Who the hell lodged a complaint about "annoying perfectionism" and took their business elsewhere? Apparently L.A. clients did. Sam blamed the strange holistic culture that had seized the West Coast—the culture of "mistakes are successes that haven't happened yet," or whatever inane philosophy Californians liked to paste on the bumpers of their hybrid cars—but his older brother William didn't see things the way he did. That was partly why William was CEO, and Sam was COO, of Jameson Advertising Agency: it wasn't just a matter of age, but perspective…or so their father had once explained it.

  If only Sam could give William a momentary demotion and make him see things from his point of view. This move to onboard Eddie was a mistake. More than that, it was far below Sam's paygrade—but even he wasn't so callous as to say as much out loud. He had learned early on that when it came to family, talking in strictly business terms wasn't exactly smiled upon.

  But surely even William could see, from his lofty vantage as CEO, that bringing Eddie any closer in the family business was a mistake. Their father had certainly thought so. The youngest Jameson simply wasn't cut out for more than wining and dining clients.

  Inviting the family screw-up back into the fold didn't seem like a wise move to Sam—but who was he to protest it? He would get in, do the job to a more than acceptable degree, and get out, the same as he always did. William wouldn't be able to argue with the results, and then Sam could get the hell back to L.A. and move onto better things.

  The door opened and Sam rose, applying one last swipe to the wrinkle. He raised his gaze, expecting to find Eddie's lopsided grin and ridiculous eyebrows waggling a greeting.

  Instead, it was his own ex-wife he found staring back at him.

  "Trinity." He hated how out of practice he suddenly sounded saying her name out loud. Not a day had passed since their separation that it didn't enter his head on a repeating loop, always in threes: Trinity. Trinity. Trinity. "What are you doing here?"

  His ex-wife blinked her gorgeous doe eyes like he had her caught in a crosshairs. Obviously his presence in the room wasn't a surprise to her, but maybe seeing an estranged spouse in the flesh shook her as much as it shook him. His eyes dropped at once to take in the form-fitting pencil skirt and matching blazer. Only Trinity could make such an uninspired shade of gray look borderline sultry. Not a wrinkle in sight. He noticed she was parting her hair differently; the line combed into her scalp was off-center, and her honey-brown hair spilled in one thick wave down the left side of her face. The asymmetry should have bothered him more than it did, but all Sam could think in that moment was how strikingly well-suited she was to the style. The elegant curl hugged her cheekbone while exposing the other one, making them appear even more pronounced than usual.

  "Where's Eddie?" He hadn't expected himself to be the one to break the silence. Trinity blinked again, and shook her head to dispel whatever thought it was that had frozen her in the first place.

  "Hello, Samson. Your brother asked me to meet with you. Not Eddie," she qualified. "William."

  "I see."

  "He wants me to assist you in onboarding Eddie. William, that is. But I guess you knew which of your brothers I was referring to that time."

  Sam nodded. Trinity's sudden appearance had thrown him into turmoil on the inside, but he was used to masking pressure indicators in high-stress situations. There was a reason his coworkers all called him a machine. "Where is Eddie these days?" he asked her.

  "Barbados. Last I heard." Trinity swept her clipboard toward the conference hallway, and Sam rose at her invitation. He followed behind her, despite knowing the way, and watched her graceful balancing act. If she wore silk stockings with her heels, Sam couldn't perceive them at this distance. Only running a hand up one of those elegant calves would reveal the truth to him….

  "In here." Trinity waved him on into one of the rooms. Her face looked a little flushed, and Sam wondered how loudly he had been broadcasting his thoughts…then again, maybe they were simply on the same wavelength, as they had so often been when they were married.

  In those first years, anyway.

  He would never show it, but Sam was still reeling from the divorce. It had been almost a year since he signed the papers Trinity wordlessly pushed across his desk, and he still didn't know what the hell had happened between the two of them. Hadn't they always shared ambitions? Work ethic? Not to mention great, great sex? He knew from all the divorce studies he had read that he should have at
least started entertaining the idea of dating other women by now, but he couldn't even bring himself to set up a simple online dating profile…and the Millennials at the L.A. office had certainly volunteered to help.

  Sam took a seat at the head of the table out of habit. He pulled out the chair beside him, and Trinity's mouth quirked a little in wry amusement. She bypassed Sam's offered chair to pull out her own. She sat down, and began to array her files as Sam studied her. Maybe having Trinity around to assist with the onboarding would be a good thing…professionally-speaking, of course. Surely he had no better ally in all this than his own ex-wife, who knew his preferred method of running things. Trinity was familiar with every nuance of his personality—hell, she was one of the few who would vouch for him even having one.

  Right?

  Trinity was the people-person. She understood the needs of others in a way Sam could never wrap his head around outside of the business boardroom. Corporations were straightforward, and most of them desired the same thing: damn good advertising. That he and his brothers could deliver. He had been raised to understand the cold, calculating terms of business minutiae; not the far less black-and-white terms of the people who stood behind the businesses.

  "I figured we'd just take a few minutes to go over everything," Trinity said. "Sort of a pre-meeting meeting. Nothing about our approach needs to be set in stone just yet. In fact, I think we should leave ourselves plenty of room to be flexible throughout this entire process. Eddie's a special case."

  "He certainly is," Sam allowed. He tried to ignore her use of the word "flexible". In business, he absolutely loathed the term—but when confronted with memories of his ex-wife's uncommon talents in the bedroom, it was even more distracting.