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

by Loebel, Vicky

  Anna opened her cloak and gazed admiringly at the Swarovski crystals glittering on her sweetheart ball gown before wrapping herself back up against the patchy drizzle. Across the grass, at the precise spot Tiffany had thrown Anna’s sketchbook over the cliff, a white altar stood wrapped in artificial flowers. Beyond the bluff, Chris’ yacht bobbed on a mottled sea.

  Chris wasn’t here. He hadn’t spoken to Anna since the awful on-camera proposal. He had texted, however, late last night, to let her know Bobbie had turned over the blackmail video. Anna clutched her cloak, feeling violated, wondering if she’d ever feel safe again, if Chris would ever feel safe with her. Had Bobbie’s blackmail scheme changed his mind about marriage? Because if Chris still wanted her, why hadn’t he come?

  Beneath the open catering tent, Bobbie paced back and forth, issuing orders to the resort staff. Anna’s dad left the table where Lani and Kim were setting up a dolphin wedding cake and dashed through the rain to Anna’s dressing tent.

  “How are you doing, sweetheart?” He shook stray drops of rain out of his hair.

  “OK.” Anna hugged her dad. “I think the show might be in trouble, though.” She tried her best to sound cheerful. “We seem to be minus one groom.”

  “He’ll be here.” Anna’s dad patted her hand. “He’s a good man.”

  “I know he is.” She did know. Even if…. Anna gulped. Even if Chris didn’t want to stay married, he wouldn’t dump her like this. She gripped her father’s hand and squinted at the yacht. Could something have happened? Surely if there had been an accident, they’d have heard.

  Bobbie strode up, closely followed by Lani. “That billionaire of yours had better show,” Bobbie growled. “I may have given up my special video, but I will milk your humiliation for every drop of drama it’s worth.”

  “Somebody’s coming.” Lani pointed at the water to where a tiny speck hovered above the Tordensky—the little red helicopter belonging to the yacht. The speck grew larger and the sound of buzzing reached their ears.

  “That’s got to be Chris,” Anna’s dad said confidently.

  “Right. Let’s go meet him.” Bobbie began rounding up her production team. “Come on! I want everyone there for the big arrival.” She scowled at Anna. “And don’t you dare get a speck of mud on that dress.” She dragged the crew toward an open spot on the field.

  Anna exchanged glances with Lani and then looked past her friend at the assembled wedding guests.

  “Go on,” Lani told her. “I’ll stay here and help Lars and Lucas keep the guests away.” She winked. “Who knows. You and Chris might get a chance to hijack the helicopter and elope.”

  “Wouldn’t that be a surprise ending!” And totally justified, Anna thought, given the tricks Bobbie had pulled. “Thanks.” She gathered her skirts under the rain cloak, slipped her feet into boots, and began picking her way carefully across the wet grass with her dad.

  The red helicopter circled the field and began to settle, scattering raindrops like BB pellets from its spinning blades. Before it reached the ground, the door swung open and Ryan Andersen leapt past the skids.

  Ryan. Anna stretched on tiptoe, trying to see into the passenger cabin. Alone.

  “He’s not coming,” Ryan yelled. “Chris. He’s on his way to the Italian Riviera with Tiffany.”

  Anna’s heart thudded.

  “Son of a bitch!” Bobbie ran to the helicopter and looked inside. “I can’t believe that snake double-crossed me!”

  “I’ve got the yacht’s security feed streamed to my phone as proof.” Ryan held it up, shrugging apologetically at Anna. “He said his life is too messed up right now for marriage, and Tiffany was willing to settle for a diamond necklace. She’s out there modeling it right now in her red-white-and-blue bikini.”

  All eyes swiveled to Chris’ yacht. The Tordensky definitely looked smaller.

  “That’s the whole story.” Ryan turned back to the helicopter. “I’m going along with them, and this ’copter’s low on fuel, so we’ve got to take off while the yacht’s in range.” He reached up and started climbing onboard. “Nice knowing you, Bobbie! Uncle Henrik can forward your complaints and comments to my divorce attorney—”

  “Carl Ryan Rasmus Andersen!” Bobbie dug her claws into his shoulder. “Stop right there!” She jerked hard, launching him into a backward summersault that ended with Ryan face-down in the mud. “I’m commandeering this chopper! We have to get that man on camera to finish the show. You two!” Bobbie picked a sound guy and cameraman. “And you, Chandra! Get in!”

  “Not me.” The show’s director backed away. “I’m not going. I quit.”

  “Four’s my limit,” the pilot shouted. “And we’ve got to go now.”

  “OK. We’ll take the other camera.” Bobbie hustled the production crew. “Go, go, go!”

  The engine screamed. The helicopter lifted and zipped sideways, an angry buzzing wasp chasing the yacht. Within seconds, it had shrunk to a tiny red dot.

  Anna swept back her cloak hood, ignoring the misting drizzle, swallowing disappointment. She squeezed her father’s arm. “I guess that’s it.” She couldn’t blame Chris for slipping away. She was—mostly—glad he’d cheated Bobbie out of a big internet wedding. But it was hard to believe the man she’d married had gone off and left her without saying goodbye. “Vacation Bride is officially over.”

  Ryan stood up, wiping mud from his eyes. “Not necessarily.”

  Anna pulled off her wedding veil and offered it to him.

  “Bobbie might keep shooting over the course of the voyage.” He mopped his face, ruining the delicate fabric. “In fact, I more or less promised Tiffany she would.”

  “Tiffany’s really going to the Riviera?” Anna’s stomach hurt.

  “They’re all going. Everyone on that yacht. Captain Greta’s under strict orders not to stop the Tordensky or let passengers use the radio for anything less than life-and-death emergencies.”

  At least the blackmail video had been destroyed. At least the show wouldn’t get its big wedding.

  Ryan turned to face Anna’s dad. “Buy you a drink?”

  “Certainly. Sweetheart? Come have a slice of dolphin cake?”

  Anna gazed at the wedding guests, kept securely inside the catering tent by Lars, Lucas, and Lani. She’d have to face them all sooner or later. Right now, later seemed good. “In a few minutes.” She kissed her dad. “Can you two get things started? Open the bar? It’s all paid for, after all.”

  “That’s right,” Ryan said brightly. “In which case” —he linked arms with Anna’s father— “I’ll buy you two drinks! Oh, wait.” He stopped and passed Anna a small pair of binoculars. “Chris couldn’t call. He was too worried about eavesdroppers. But if you watch from the stone wall behind the altar, he promised he’d wave.”

  Wave? Anna frowned. That was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard. How about texting? How about sending an old-fashioned note? How about showing up to kiss me goodbye? She scuffed her boots in irritation toward the wall.

  Was Chris actually going to wave at her while he sailed for the Riviera with another woman?

  She shook her head. Of course he wasn’t. It had to be some sort of trick.

  Anna’s steps quickened. Could Chris be hiding somewhere? But all that greeted her when she reached the altar was the short stretch of grass between the rock wall and the cliff. Clouds shifted, turning the ocean a hundred shades of blue. Far below, surf pounded a disappointed heartbeat against the rocks.

  Anna removed her cloak and draped it on the wall. She hopped up, blessing the fact she’d refused to wear a corset, and pointed Ryan’s binoculars at the distant yacht.

  If Chris was waving, he’d grown too small to see.

  So, what now? Forget the man she’d married? Chase him? Wait? The clouds parted, creating bright shafts of light, and then the sun came out and lit raindrops, like wedding crystals, on the grass. Anna placed her tiara on the wall and shook out her hair. Of course she’d wait for Chris. In a fe
w minutes, she’d go back to the party, eat cake, grit her teeth, and smile at the reporters Bobbie had invited to the event.

  Before the day was out, her husband was sure to call.

  A camera clicked in front of her. Reporters already! Anna looked down, forgetting her resolve to smile. “Why don’t you jackals—”

  Chris clung half on, half off the cliff, covered in mud.

  “Sorry.” He raised his phone one-handed and snapped her picture again. “I had to preserve that look.”

  “Oh!” Anna trembled at the drop. “Oh, Chris! What are you doing?”

  “Rock climbing.” He grinned. “I used to be good at it.” The phone slipped from his hands. “Unfortunately, I’m a little rusty.” He sighed regretfully and vanished from sight.

  “Chris!” Anna dove onto her belly and started edging forward in a rescue crawl. “Chris, hang on—”

  Chris popped up, blinked in surprise, and laughed heartily. “It’s for a sketch I’m planning.” He hauled himself over the edge. “It’s a great photo, right?” He waved the phone. “The way I caught you gazing romantically out to sea?”

  “You idiot!” Anna struggled onto her knees inside the dress and then tackled him. “You awful—” Her lips found his, and she forgot what she was saying.

  This. Anna clung to her husband. Forever this. At sea, at his resort, on the wet grass in an expensive, ruined wedding gown. Wherever Chris went, there she would be.

  “Stop. Wait,” he gasped, blue eyes shining with love. “You’ve interrupted my speech.”

  “What speech, you lunatic?”

  “The one about your photograph.” Chris sat up and opened his climbing pack. “About how we’ll need a portrait of you to match this.” He placed a muddy drawing pad in her hands.

  Anna stared wonderingly. “My sketchbook!’ She opened the cover and carefully looked through the pages. They were all there. Diane’s hospital room. The flowers and animals from the bus tour the first day she arrived. The boats along the St. Thomas waterfront. Anna held her breath and turned to the portrait of Chris. It was overly romantic, a little faded, and nowhere near as wonderful as the flesh-and-blood man. “How on earth did you find it?”

  “With great difficulty.” Chris grinned again. “Sorry I couldn’t call. I’ve been climbing up and down this godforsaken cliff, searching, since dawn. And cell reception’s lousy.”

  “I thought you left with Tiffany on your yacht. Ryan showed us the live security feed.”

  “There’s no live feed. We shot that yesterday on Ryan’s phone. Tiffany turned out to be quite helpful after I promised her a diamond necklace and full use of the Tordensky. I thought we might offer her a job in public relations—”

  “Enough.” Anna kissed Chris to shut him up. Then she kissed him again out of pure joy. “So what now? Do we head back to the wedding party?” She glanced regretfully at the wall. “Someone’s bound to find us here before long.”

  “We can join the party, sure. If you want.” Chris pointed to the place where he’d come over the bluff. “Or we can sneak off by the stairs.”

  “Stairs!” Anna crawled over to look. Sure enough, there was a set of old stone stairs cut in the rock. Shallow, barely more than a slippery ladder, but probably usable….

  “I’ve got my jet ski waiting on the beach below,” Chris said. “Uncle Henrik’s lending us his private jet, and Ryan’s promised faithfully to look after your dad. They’ll call tonight as soon as the party’s over.” He chuckled. “So, Mrs. Andersen, what will it be? Puerto Rico? Bali? Spain? A cozy sheep farm—you now own half of—in Denmark? Where would you like to go for our honeymoon?”

  “The sheep farm! Definitely!” Anna hoped there’d be a roaring fireplace and tons of snow. “Except….” She looked past the edge again, wincing. “In this outfit….” She’d have to strip off the wedding dress and climb down in her slip.

  “I’ll help you.” Chris lowered himself onto the steps. “We’ll go down as a team.” He offered Anna his hand.

  She took it, knowing she’d be fine. Knowing that she and Chris would keep each other safe.

  Together, they could do anything at all.

  Epilogue: One Year Later

  Anna Andersen flipped open a drawing pad on the arm of her hospital bed and glanced out the window at the gathering dusk. “It’s snowing,” she told Diane. “Again.”

  “It’s February. It’s Milwaukee.” Diane refilled a plate with dolphin cookies from the Downer Avenue bakery. “I keep telling you, it’s the law.”

  “There’s still no law about snow.” Anna adjusted a yellow baby blanket around a tiny fist and gazed in wonder at her infant son. George Christopher had been born with his mother’s dark hair, his father’s blue eyes, and his grandfather’s dislike of being fussed over. “Not stuffing new moms full of cookies,” she said, “there’s probably a law about that.”

  “How many have you had today?”

  “Today?” Anna yawned broadly. Between her dad, and Chris, and Doris—taking time out from the Paradise Resort—and Uncle Henrik, and Lars and Lucas, and Captain Greta—who claimed she’d always wanted to see Lake Michigan when it froze—not to mention a couple of dozen starving nurses…. “Actually, I don’t believe I’ve eaten a single one.” Anna selected a bright blue cookie, deciding she’d earned it. She swam the dolphin over her son’s blanket, touched it lightly to his nose, and then bit its head off, providing a merciful death.

  Diane caught and murdered a dolphin of her own.

  “Yum.” Anna sighed happily. It would have been simpler to have her baby in the Virgin Islands, but after so many months of tropical sunshine, she’d missed her old home. Besides, Anna’s dad was getting the bakery ready to give to Diane, and he’d absolutely refused to leave Milwaukee until every surface had been scrubbed and painted, and every recipe had been tested twice with the new owner.

  Anna smiled at the thought she could now pass out bakeries to people as easily as she’d once passed out cupcakes. It wasn’t much, considering the happiness her friend had brought them. But Diane loved baking, and it was good to know that dolphin cookies—almost as delicious as the originals—would still delight the children of Downer Avenue.

  Children. Anna drew soft curves on the paper, sketching her baby’s sweet head. What an amazing miracle children were. And how lucky this one was to have so many people to love him. During the last two days, she’d practically had to wait in line just to hold her own son.

  The door opened and Chris slipped in, carrying a stuffed teddy bear almost as large as himself. “Anyone awake?”

  “I am.” Anna received a warm kiss from her husband. “G.C. is out for the count.” She shook her head at the enormous teddy bear. “What on earth is that?”

  “Baby present from Ryan.” Chris stashed the bear in a corner behind a visitor’s chair. “He says to give you his love. He’s neck deep in secret business negotiations and can’t be here himself.”

  “What business this time?” Anna chuckled. “Digital fishing lures? The International House of Johnny-Cakes? Or has his dad finally blackmailed him into remedial law school?”

  “Don’t know.” Chris carefully picked up his son. “Don’t care.” He stood, gazing, completely absorbed.

  Diane lifted her handbag. “I see things are about to get sloppy.” She hugged Anna goodbye. “Are you going home tomorrow?”

  “Maybe.” Anna grinned. “I’ve been advised not to hurry.” That was the great thing about private maternity suites. They didn’t rush you out the door. Anna felt perfectly ready to settle into the comfortable lakeside condo they’d bought for trips to Milwaukee, but not quite ready to face the crowds of relatives demanding time with her son. She waved Diane out the door and then glanced contentedly around the hospital room stuffed with cards, flowers, and even a bright turquoise bathing suit that had arrived with a balloon bouquet from Lani and Kim. In place of honor on the dresser was Anna’s first sketch of Chris, newly mounted in the wood frame he’d built he
r as a baby present.

  “Come here.” Anna slid over, making room for her family. Chris kicked off his shoes and carefully joined her on the bed. The baby’s eyes opened. He gazed solemnly at his father’s face.

  “G.C.” Chris observed. “Maybe we ought to rethink that. The family’s already calling him Juicy.”

  “Well, he is juicy.” Anna kissed the baby’s dark hair. “So he’ll just have to put up with it.”

  Chris frowned skeptically.

  “We can switch to Christopher when he’s older. Or call him Henry, after his godfather Henrik.” Anna stretched out her hands. “My turn.” She took Juicy into her arms. The baby’s head turned, seeking her breast.

  “I brought you something.” Chris reached into his pocket and took out a jeweler’s box. It held a small platinum locket, engraved with the baby’s birth date, set with six brilliant blue sapphires that matched the large stones in her wedding band.

  “One sapphire for each of our children,” Chris teased.

  Anna laughed. “Maybe one for each eye.”

  He opened the locket and showed her the mounted strands of fine baby hair.

  “Oh, Chris!” Anna checked her son’s head and found a tiny bald spot. “You didn’t!”

  “The nurse promised me it will grow back.”

  “Of course it will. But, oh! Think of sharp scissors, right next to his—”

  George Christopher let out a hungry squawk.

  Anna arranged the baby on a pillow while Chris fastened the locket around her neck. She hadn’t quite mastered nursing. Fortunately Juicy had his father’s sweet temper and didn’t complain.

  “I’ve got a present for you, too,” Anna said. “Under the bed.”