Vacation Bride: A Billionaire Marriage of Convenience (Brides of Paradise Book 1)

by Loebel, Vicky

  “You scared me.” Chris wrapped her arms around his chest. “I kept imagining all sorts of disasters.”

  “I could have radioed if I needed to.” Anna squeezed him. “How’d you find me?”

  “The jet skis from the Tordensky can track each other.” Chris let her go and set off in the fog. “And as for help,” he called over his shoulder, “you could have radioed if you were conscious and weren’t too busy drowning. There’s lots of ways to get in trouble in open water, which is why you never, ever jet ski alone.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I think I snapped.”

  “Can’t blame you.” He squeezed her arms. “I think I snapped two weeks ago. Next time, give me a signal and we’ll snap together.”

  “Good plan.” Now that Chris had her, the drizzle seemed almost cozy, though she supposed he must be suffering in his soggy clothes. At least the fog was thinning. Anna rested the side of her helmet on Chris’ broad back and watched St. John fade in and out of view, a looming presence of unbroken green. In just a few minutes, they’d reach the Paradise Resort. And then everything’s over. She’d pack her bags, collect her dad, and go.

  Chris slowed the jet ski. “This is it.”

  “Already?” Anna straightened and looked around. A tiny white beach lay straight ahead, enclosed entirely by steep jungle. “That’s not the Paradise.”

  “I thought we’d stop someplace private.” He turned his head. “OK with you?”

  “Very OK!” There was no dock. He’d have to beach the Kawasakis. “Should I swim in?”

  “You can. Or I can run you over first.”

  “I’ll swim. As long as you promise to be careful.” She pulled off her pink helmet, fastened it on Chris’ head, and slipped into the bath-warm waves. Anna bobbed happily, tempted to skin out of both her scratchy wetsuit and bathing suit but not quite bold enough to do either. “Go on.” She grinned as Chris buckled the helmet. “I’ll watch.”

  Chris ran the tethered Kawasakis in a wide circle and then drove them onto the beach with easy skill. Anna swam after him, delighted to get to solid ground. She flopped down, digging her hands and water shoes into the comfortable sand. Now that the danger was gone, she realized how nervous she’d been. “Thank you for coming after me.”

  “Hang on.” Chris held up one finger and got his phone. Knowing the man spent half his life on water, Anna was not surprised to see it safe and dry inside a waterproof case. “Ryan? I’ve got her. We’re fine.” He paused and listened. “We’re at the clubhouse on St. Thomas. Could you let Anna’s dad know she’s OK?” Another pause. “No, absolutely not. No interviews,” he said firmly. “See you tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow. As in…the day after tonight? Anna swallowed. “I could have sworn we were on St. John,” she said. “Am I that lost?” Lost on a private beach with Chris. She stretched involuntarily.

  “Just being careful in case someone’s eavesdropping. Ryan knows where we are.” Chris powered off his phone. “Hold that enticing pose.”

  “Enticing?” Anna giggled. Bedraggled and caked with sand was more like it, though she appreciated the compliment.

  Chris entered a kill-code into the Kawasakis’ control panels, disabling both theft and GPS tracking. “Just so you know,” he said, “we could have shut off your jet ski from the yacht.”

  Anna imagined drifting without power. “Really?” She thought of dark shapes swimming under waves. “Holy cow.”

  “It’s never a good idea to steal from billionaires. Unless you are a billionaire.” He stowed the helmet in a compartment. “Unless your husband teaches you the codes.”

  Husband. The word left her tingling. Chris seemed different. More confident. As if Anna belonged to him. Another time, that might have been annoying. Right now, it was the sexiest thing on earth. He leaned against the jet ski, looking for all the world like a heroic, ship-wrecked sailor in his ruined clothes. “Are you up for a short hike? Or should I carry you?”

  “Carry!” The image turned her insides liquid. “Don’t be ridiculous—”

  Chris squatted and scooped Anna into his arms.

  “Oh!” She gripped his neck, electrified. “Oh, my!” He strode a short distance into the vegetation and then set Anna down and kissed her. A parrot fluttered past her head. Flowers cascaded in bunches from every vine. Anna’s knees wobbled. She clung to Chris, dizzy with happiness. “Is this where we’re going?”

  “A little higher.” Chris clasped her hand and started uphill.

  It took Anna a moment to realize they were following a narrow trail. She plodded after Chris—the heat was stifling inside the jungle—and wondered if they were heading to another ruin like the sugar mill. Instead, the path ended at a fenced clearing containing a tidy whitewashed cottage, tightly shuttered against storms.

  “My Gran lived here,” Chris explained. “Doris’ mom. We’re in the national forest that covers most the island, but it’s a private lot.”

  “Did she pass away?”

  “Metaphorically.” Chris’ smile flickered. “Remarried and moved to Miami Beach. She’s been paying me twenty dollars a year since I was a kid to keep the place in order.” He disappeared around the back and returned with a key.

  Anna followed Chris inside and helped him open shutters in all the rooms. The place was surprisingly airy, with lots of windows and a screened veranda facing the hill. Instead of beds, the two back rooms held oversized hammocks, strung from rafters.

  “Let me guess,” Anna said, laughing. “The hammocks were Ryan’s idea.”

  “At age fourteen, they were the height of cool.” Chris led Anna to the kitchen and showed her a dusty, half-empty bottle. “Along with rum.”

  Anna admired the kitchen, which held a propane stove, an empty, three-foot-tall old-fashioned ice box, and a single cold water tap. Chris opened cupboards and sorted through a few sparse cans. “Looks like corned beef, peaches, and instant coffee for dinner,” he said. “Or I can hike to the neighbors and beg for food.”

  “Don’t go.” Was Chris suggesting they spend the night together? Anna sincerely hoped he was. “Peaches and hash are fine.” His eyes met hers and she was struck again by how lovely he was. Not just handsome, though there was that. The man practically glowed with inner goodness.

  A gust of rain rattled the shutters. The kitchen held its breath.

  “Don’t go,” Anna repeated. She tugged her wetsuit, feeling extremely grubby. “Can I wash up?”

  “There’s no hot water. But you can take a lukewarm shower.”

  That sounded great. “You first? You must be miserable in those wet clothes.”

  Chris’ blue eyes darkened. “I’ve never been less miserable in my life.” He took a step toward her and then hesitated. “Go on. I’ll boil water for coffee. Want me to check the tub for spiders?”

  Anna could handle small ones on her own. “I’ll let you know.”

  There were no spiders, although a two-foot-long iguana clung lazily outside the bathroom screen. Anna peeled off her thigh-length wetsuit, shedding about five pounds of sand, and stepped under the cool water. A spark spread through her, remembering Chris’ intense expression. She closed her eyes, recalling the melting feeling of being carried. His strong arms, lifting her. His neck…. How much of Chris’ body had she seen, anyway? Not enough. His chest, the day he changed his shirt in front of her. His warm, firm hands…. Anna reached down and cranked the cold tap but the water didn’t change.

  A door creaked loudly. The shower curtain slid aside, and all at once she saw as much of Chris as she’d been hoping for. He pulled her to him, kissing her hungrily. Anna’s hands found his shoulders and then his back, tracing the length of his spine. He groaned, crushing her, clasping her head.

  “Anna.” Chris eased away. “I promised to put your interests ahead of mine. I love you. I want you to be my genuine wife, but it’s not going to be easy. You might be better off running away.”

  Anna’s heart pounded. She wanted Chris, needed him desperately, but thi
s wasn’t only lust. “I love you, too.” She stroked his jaw. “I promised to trust you. Whatever happens, we’ll get through it together.”

  Chris picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, laughing, crying, wanting this man with all her soul. They shared a tangle of soap and kisses, of breath-stealing caresses and fluffy towels. Then Anna was floating in a soft hammock beside the man she loved. His hand teased her, making her moan. Warm kisses fluttered across her breasts. She welcomed her husband’s weight on top of her, feeling completely cherished, fully loved.

  A shock of heat ran through her. “Oh, gosh.” She’d never had a man without a condom before. “Oh gosh, what if there’s a baby?” She thought he’d tell her not to worry, it wouldn’t happen, he’d pull out.

  Instead, Chris burst out laughing. He stroked her cheek. “That just occurred to you?”

  “I got distracted!”

  Chris rocked slowly, distracting Anna more. Her eyes crossed with delight. Chris kissed her ear. “What’s your dad’s name?”

  “Daddy? It’s…um…Williams, same as me.” No, wait. Anna was married. “Same as I used to be.” She concentrated. “Oh, you mean first name. It’s George.”

  “George Andersen.” Chris kissed her nose, her neck, her shoulder.

  Anna’s heart lit with love.

  “George or Georgina,” Chris said. “We hit the jackpot either way.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chris woke religiously every day at dawn and walked the resort. It was a habit begun in childhood, an hour of peace in what was otherwise a crowded, public life. He was surprised, therefore, on waking to the smell of coffee, to realize it was after nine. Of course, he’d been up most the night. Chris grinned and stretched luxuriously, feeling both ravenous and deeply satisfied. Twelve hours of dozy lovemaking was just about as good as life could get. Twelve hours with Anna. If his wife hadn’t slipped out of the hammock he’d have made it thirteen.

  My wife. Chris’ grin stretched so wide it hurt his face. Anna. No doubt about it. He was the luckiest man on earth. Hard to believe he’d wasted the last three weeks worrying about the contest. The last two years obsessed with the resort. The last twenty-six months stressed out about his inheritance. If he’d had any idea how great marriage was, he’d have eloped with Anna ten years ago. Chris did some quick arithmetic and decided that would have landed him in jail. At any rate, he was glad they were married now. They could face anything, solve any problem, side-by-side.

  Which raised the question, where was Anna now? Chris vaguely remembered hearing the shower, and there were delicious breakfast smells wafting through the house. But minor matters like food and cleanliness were lousy reasons to abandon your husband. Chris wanted Anna where he could see her, hold her, gaze into her eyes. Then after a certain amount of holding and gazing…plus a quick side trip to hunt a bison and lay it at her feet…twelve more hours of lovemaking were definitely called for.

  Chris rolled out of the hammock, deciding the bison hunt and lovemaking might have to be swapped. He found a pair of paint-stained jeans, splashed water on his face in the bathroom, and cocked his head to listen.

  His wife was laughing with another man.

  Dammit. Chris strode barefoot to the bright kitchen. Ryan. Sharing a box of Johnny-cakes with Anna. Chris clenched his fist, noting with satisfaction the purple bruise on Ryan’s jaw. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  Anna glanced up, startled.

  Chris bit his tongue. “I mean, why the devil are you here?” His wife looked utterly delicious in her black swimsuit, discreetly covered by one of Chris’ tees. She took in his bare chest, stained jeans, and unbrushed hair, and beamed a smile of such pure love, Chris wanted to fall to the floor and wave his hands and feet like paws.

  “Good morning, sleepy!” Anna jumped up and hugged him. “Ryan brought breakfast. It’s still warm.”

  Chris kissed her. Twice. And then, unable to resist the smell, sat down and snagged a Johnny cake. “Thank you.” He bit into the crisp fried bread. “Now, go away.” Chris pulled Anna into his lap, broke off a piece of pastry, and fed it to her. She swallowed happily, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  That was more like it. They kissed again. For quite some time.

  “For god’s sake,” Ryan grumbled. “Why don’t you two get a room?”

  “We did. A whole house full of rooms. So we could be alone.”

  “Um. Right. About that.” Ryan cleared his throat. “We need to talk.”

  Chris sighed. Clearly his cousin wasn’t leaving. He helped himself to coffee, topping off Anna’s cup and taking a seat of his own. “OK.”

  Ryan swallowed. “Well…um….” His gazed shifted to Chris’ bride.

  Anna looked puzzled. “Do you two need to speak privately?”

  “No, we do not.” Chris clasped her hand. “What’s this about?”

  Ryan stared at the table. “First—swear to god—I didn’t know.”

  “Know what?”

  “About this place. I mean, about Bobbie knowing about this place. I didn’t tell her. She tracked you down herself.”

  Bobbie had mentioned she’d traced the family real estate. “She’s here? Right now?”

  “She’s here, but that’s not the big problem. She placed a cameraman outside.” Ryan did not look up. “Last night.”

  “Sounds wet.” It had rained off and on. “What’s your point?”

  Anna’s cup rattled. “We left the shutters open!”

  “So what?” Chris didn’t see…then all at once he did. A cameraman. Shooting through windows. Last night. “Son of a bitch!” He knocked his chair over getting up. “You bastards filmed me with my wife!” Chris had never thrown a table. Or used one as a club. He grasped the solid wooden edge.

  “No don’t!” Anna squeaked urgently. “They might still be recording!”

  “They’re not. She promised.” Ryan eased out of his chair, putting distance between himself and Chris. “That is, I’m pretty sure the camera’s off.”

  Chris briefly considered murdering Ryan and then changed his mind and stood beside his wife.

  “Oh god.” Anna breathed heavily. “Oh god, she’s going to post our wedding night online!”

  “She won’t.” Chris squeezed her hand. “She wouldn’t dare. I’d slap her with a lawsuit so big, Bobbie would wish she’d robbed a bank and been sent to jail.”

  “Trust me, she dares,” Ryan said grimly. “Not only that, she’s mixed the video with….” His eyes darted to Anna. “Sexier footage. Scenes that don’t show faces. From DVDs she may have…um…found on our honeymoon. On the yacht.”

  Bobbie had mixed their wedding night with Danish porn? Chris clenched his fists.

  “Look,” Ryan said, “it’s all my fault. You can beat me up later. But now—”

  Right now, Anna looked like someone was beating her. Chris didn’t give a damn if his own bare ass was scattered around the internet. But nobody, nobody, was going to humiliate his wife. “All right. We’ll do it.” He took a breath, forcing himself to be calm. “We’ll hold our wedding on your show. That’s what she wants, right?” He looked at Anna. “Is that OK with you?”

  “I suppose.” She shuddered. “Will that stop Bobbie? From posting the video?”

  “It better,” Chris said grimly.

  “It will,” Ryan promised. “She wants a romantic ending. Posting a bunch of porn would spoil….” He coughed. “Um. Anyway. You guys will have one week to plan—”

  “Tomorrow,” Chris cut him off. “Tomorrow afternoon. Or not at all.” He fixed his cousin with a glare. “No threats, no bargaining, and no delays. Bobbie gives me the video this afternoon. Or else you both face Uncle Henrik.”

  Ryan winced. “Give me a sec.” He backed warily out the kitchen door.

  Chris picked up the chair and sat down next to Anna. “Are you OK?” Her pupils were double their normal size.

  “Mostly.” She bit her lip. “I mean…he must have been watching. The came
raman. And then, Bobbie, she’d have to watch our video to edit it.”

  “It’s just a threat. She probably didn’t edit anything,” Chris lied, and then added, “Besides, the back bedrooms are dark in the afternoon.” He’d been too distracted to light a lamp, thank god. “I doubt they got more than a bunch of boring shadows.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” Anna relaxed slightly and tried to smile. “Although I don’t remember being bored.”

  “Me neither.” Dammit. They’d have to stay boring until tomorrow night. “Come here.”

  She settled into his lap, wrapping her arms around him. “Poor Ryan.”

  “Ryan?” Chris kissed her hair. “Why him?”

  “He thought he’d found what we’ve got. I mean with Bobbie.” Anna looked up. “And he didn’t. That’s sad.”

  Chris did not want to feel sorry for Ryan.

  “We can get past this, right? It’s not going to poison our marriage?”

  “Of course it won’t.” Chris brushed her cheek, searching for words. I love you. Had he said that last night? “Anna, I—”

  The front door banged. Anna jumped like a deer.

  Bobbie strode through the door leading her crew, carrying a stack of clothes. “All right lovebirds!” She tossed a small clear box to Chris. Inside was the engagement ring he hadn’t given Tiffany. “We have a deal. You get the video, I get your promise to marry Anna on Vacation Bride.”

  Chris and Anna exchanged glances.

  “So go wash up, get dressed, and give me a show-stopping, straight-from-the-heart proposal.” Bobbie pushed Anna toward the crew. “We’ve got our big finale to organize!”

  Chapter Twenty

  According to Doris, the average bride spent ten months planning her wedding at the Paradise Resort. Anna huddled carefully into the rain cloak protecting her expensive bridal gown and reflected that she’d managed to have two weddings in less than three weeks.

  Rain pattered on the roofs of white tents scattered around the abandoned sugar mill. Of course, Anna hadn’t planned either ceremony herself. The afternoon on Chris’ yacht had been handled by Captain Greta. Whereas the three-ring circus currently taking place…. Anna sighed, careful not to look at the hovering cameraman. At least she’d picked a good dress. Immediately after Chris’ proposal yesterday, Bobbie had sent Anna and Lani to an exclusive bridal boutique in St. Thomas.