Lucky 7 Brazen Bachelors Contemporary Romance Boxed Set

by Caridad Piñeiro

  He lifted her face to meet her gaze, his expression laden with intent. “Marry me,” he said.

  Her eyes widened and her mouth parted in shock. “Wh-what?”

  “We can have as long an engagement as you need, to be sure it’s right,” he went on, even as her mind spun. “But I want that promise between us. So we each know where we stand, that this relationship is for real and serious.”

  Oh. My. God.

  Tears stung the back of her eyes. She could scarcely believe it. He really was sweeping her off her feet. Things like this didn’t happen to her.

  She’d long ago resigned herself to being Cinderella forever—in the version of the story where the prince tosses the glass slipper over his shoulder and decides to marry the cute, rich princess from the next kingdom instead of the strong, independent, baggage-laden peasant girl he’d met at the ball, even if she did look pretty good in her borrowed gown.

  She wanted to respond, wanted to shout, “Yes!” at the top of her lungs, but her throat was so tight she couldn’t squeeze out a coherent sound, only a strangled noise of surprise.

  “I’ve thought about you every day for nine years,” he murmured, “wanting nothing more than to have this chance with you.” His eyes softened and the corners of his lips curved slightly. “I have to warn you, if you say no, I plan to stick around and do everything in my power to convince you.” His lips tipped up even more. “And I’m damned good at persuasion. So, it seems to me, you may as well skip all the hassle and just tell me yes.”

  All those years of loneliness and struggle and frustration started to fade away.

  He meant it. She could tell he really meant it.

  She smiled up at him through her tears, her heart bursting with happiness. And, yes, with hope.

  “What do you say, Lacy? Will you make an honest man of me?”

  “Yes,” she finally managed. “Oh, Trey. Yes!”

  His arms tightened around her, his gaze filling with a sheen of such pure joy and relief it made her heart squeeze. “Good.”

  And then he bent down and kissed her. He tasted of love and warmth and a future bright with promise.

  A future she’d been dreaming of her whole life.

  And when she tested the depths of her heart, she found…yes, she trusted him to keep that promise and honor his commitment.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Very good.”

  She melted into his embrace, and kissed him back.

  Behind her, footsteps careened down the stairs. “Hey, Mom! Is Dad still— Oh. Eww, you guys.”

  A few seconds later, the kitchen was blitzed with the flash of a cell phone camera.

  Trey broke their kiss, and she said, aghast, “Caleb! What the heck!”

  “I am officially scarred for life,” Caleb drawled in that long-suffering way of pre-adolescent boys. “I need evidence for my future therapist.”

  Unfazed, Trey grinned over at their son.

  Their son.

  “Morning, kid. Come over here. Your old man needs a hug.” Trey held out an arm to him, pulling a protesting-but-not-really Caleb into a whole-family hug. “So. How’d you like to move to the beach?” he asked. “In California?”

  Caleb’s young eyes practically bugged out with eagerness. “For real?”

  “For real,” Trey assured him, then looked at her. “That is, if your mom wants to. We can talk about it tonight, together, as a family. Okay?”

  This was, officially, the happiest moment of Lacy’s life.

  “Okay,” she agreed, her heart filling to the very brim.

  And she knew, without a doubt, it was just the first of many, many more moments of happiness to come.

  Kiss of a Lifetime: Epilogue

  VENICE BEACH, CALIFORNIA

  AUGUST 13, ONE YEAR LATER…

  Ah, the memories…

  Trey opened his eyes and stared out his office window at the vast, undulating Pacific Ocean, as he’d done for so many years now, on this same day in August.

  But unlike before, this time had a smile on his face. It had been there for a year now, and it wasn’t going away anytime soon. In fact, this morning his smile was even bigger than usual.

  He turned and strolled to the sideboard, and poured himself a shot of tequila. Lifting it, along with his gaze, he grinned and saluted the four framed photos hanging in their place of honor on his wall.

  “Here’s to you, sweetheart.” He threw back the burning liquor, and contemplated the photos.

  The first two were the same framed magazine covers that had graced his office for the past ten years—the gritty HER PROTECTOR cover from Mercenary Life, and the KISS OF THE DECADE cover from the national entertainment magazine. The fourth frame contained a photo taken at his and Lacy’s wedding this past spring. It was a sophisticated, gentle portrait of them decked out in their wedding finery, backdropped by the beautiful stained glass of the chapel, sealing their vows with a reverent kiss. It couldn’t have contrasted more starkly with the first two photos.

  But Trey’s favorite was the one in the third frame—the impromptu picture Caleb had shot of him and Lacy the morning after their reunion, in the moment just after they had promised to join their lives together and become a family.

  Oh, yeah. That had been the kiss of a lifetime. Not heated, or sensual, or even arousing, but a simple, heartfelt expression of pure emotion, overflowing with two people’s ardent, aching longing for the miracle of love that had just been granted them.

  A love that had only grown bigger and stronger and more fulfilling over the days and months that had passed since then.

  Against all odds, he and Lacy had found true happiness together. A soul-deep happiness that Trey had never, ever expected to have in his life.

  And it had all started with that kiss.

  He’d stayed on in Charleston for a whole month while he, Lacy, and Caleb had gotten to know each other and made some decisions about their future. At the same time, he had arranged for his collection—which he’d still insisted on donating to the Charleston Institute of Art despite Lacy’s protests—to be settled in its new home. Unsurprisingly, the board of directors had granted Lacy the position of permanent Curator of Indigenous Arts…which she’d promptly but graciously turned down.

  Trey had made her a better offer.

  And not just for a white dress and a picket fence.

  In a stroke of genius, he’d hired her to put together and manage a brand new collection for him. She was right, the exhibits really had been invaluable PR for the artists he represented, and a boon for his business. And he couldn’t think of anyone better to be in charge of the whole enterprise.

  Luckily, Lacy had agreed.

  Which had neatly solved the issue of a job for her when she and Caleb moved to California. She’d had no desire to be a kept woman, and Trey had hated the idea of an intelligent, capable woman setting aside her career dreams and ambitions just to be with him. It had all worked out really well.

  So, today there was definitely cause for celebration.

  He’d just poured himself another tequila when his office door banged open.

  “Hey, Dad!”

  “Sorry, Mr. Treynor!” Millie called without bothering to get up from her desk. They’d both given up trying to teach the whirlwind that was his son not to barge in without knocking.

  “It’s okay, Millie,” he called back, and ruffled Caleb’s hair when he came over to give him a quick, awkward hug. Trey would never get tired of those fumbled boy-hugs, and was endlessly glad his son appeared to crave them as much as he did. “Hey, bud, what’s going on?”

  Caleb noticed the shot glass in Trey’s hand, and pulled up short. “Wow, Dad. Drinking this early in the day?”

  Trey glanced at the glass, and up at the photos, then back to Caleb. He grinned. “Celebrating. It’s our anniversary.”

  His son blinked up at the photos, then rolled his eyes. “Gross. You and Mom do way too much kissing. I’m telling you, it’s not normal.”

&nb
sp; “You’re right. It’s much better than normal,” Lacy said as she walked into the office and gave Trey a good one, grossing out their son even more.

  “Oh, hells, yeah,” Trey agreed, and kissed her back, then slung an arm around her shoulders. “So, what’s up, you two?”

  Their dropping in at his office wasn’t unusual, but they generally arrived with an agenda.

  “Caleb wants a surfboard,” Lacy announced, and raised her brows at Trey.

  Not a huge surprise. The kid had been taking lessons all summer, and loved it. And hell, it was California. Trey and Lacy had already talked about getting him a board.

  “Okay,” Trey said with a nod. “Pick one out for parental approval. Just be sure it’s—”

  “I know, I know. Handmade by a local surfboard artisan,” Caleb finished for him excitedly. “Awesome!” An instant later he was running out the door. “Thanks, Dad!”

  “You spoil him rotten,” Lacy said, but she was smiling.

  Trey grinned. “Yeah. It’s great, isn’t it?”

  She laughed. “You’re hopeless.”

  He pulled her into his arms. “Who needs hope when I already have everything a man could possibly want?”

  She met his gaze with a look of such love and adoration, his heart did a slow spin in his chest. “Have I told you lately how much I love you, Geoffrey Treynor?”

  “Not nearly enough,” he said, and captured her mouth for a long, thorough kiss.

  “Mmm,” she whispered when their lips finally parted. “Well, maybe this will help with that.” She handed him a rolled up magazine.

  “What is it?”

  “Take a look.”

  He glanced at it uncertainly, then unfurled the roll.

  It was the August issue of Mercenary Life.

  He stilled as a thousand different emotions hurtled through him. Guilt and regret for those nine wasted years while he ignored her reaching out, unending gratitude for the message her ads had represented, relief at having been given a second chance.

  And confusion over what the magazine could mean to her now, this year…

  “Open it to the classifieds,” she ordered.

  His pulse kicked up with sudden trepidation over what he might find there.

  Pavlov, anyone?

  But she was still smiling, almost glowing, so he told himself it must be something good. Like maybe an anniversary greeting—one final ad to commemorate their time in that closet. That would be kind of fun.

  He leafed through the magazine in anticipation, and found the right page, then thumbed down the ads until he hit one that jumped out from among all the offers of questionable jobs to misfit loners, old soldiers with nothing left to lose, and desperate kids searching for a better life.

  There.

  Second column, halfway down.

  HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO MY HERO IN THE CLOSET ON ST. GRIMALDI.

  Cool. He’d guessed right. He smiled, and shot her a quick glance. “You were the hero, baby, not me. So brave.”

  She gestured at the magazine. “Keep reading.”

  So, he did.

  THANK YOU FOR BEING MY KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR.

  “God, you’re sweet,” he murmured, filled with love for this amazing woman who, for some mysterious reason, loved him so unconditionally.

  She rocked up on her toes, looking like she might burst any second. “Go on.”

  He gave her a tender kiss on the forehead, then read the last bit.

  YOUR REWARD WILL ARRIVE IN EIGHT MONTHS. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

  His pulse stalled.

  He read it again, then whipped his gaze up to her in wonder, his heart soaring. “Does that mean— Are you—? Are we—?”

  She nodded, “Yes,” her face wreathed in smiles, and his whole being took flight with joy.

  “Oh, sweetheart, that’s so incredible.” He swept her up into his arms and held her tight. “God, I love you. More than anything.”

  “I love you, too,” she whispered.

  He took her lips in a kiss of pure joy.

  From just outside his office door came the flash of a camera. Millie stood there, cell phone in hand, smiling from ear to ear. “Got to keep up the tradition,” she said, then winked and closed the door.

  Amused, he wondered how many more frames he’d be hanging up over the coming years…

  Two? Three? Seven? An entire wall filled with them?

  He laughed, and kissed his wife again. Damn. There was no doubt about it. He was the luckiest man in the universe.

  Because he had Lacy.

  And a lifetime of her kisses.

  THE END

  About the Author

  Nina Bruhns

  New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Nina Bruhns’ adventurous romantic thrillers contain a unique blend of interesting characters and settings, twisty suspense and sizzling romance. To date she has published over 30 award-winning novels.

  Aside from hitting #11 on the New York Times Best Seller List, other awards and honors for Ms. Bruhns’s books have included two RITA nominations, three Daphne du Maurier Awards for the Year’s Best Overall Mystery-Suspense Book, two Romantic Times Reviewer Award for Best Book of the Year for series romance, a National Readers Choice Award, and five Dorothy Parker Awards of Excellence, just to name a few.

  Read more about Nina Bruhns and her books on her website:

  www.NinaBruhns.com

  Please “like” Nina Bruhns’ Facebook author page!

  Additional Books by Nina Bruhns

  IN HIS CONTROL

  CATCH ME IF YOU CAN

  SLAVE TO LOVE by Nikita Black (aka Nina Bruhns)

  License to Date

  Susan Hatler

  License to Date: Chapter One

  I shouldn’t have sent out the wedding invitations. So obvious—now. The only upside? I’d chosen exquisite paper and Bickley Script font for the cancellation notices. Humiliating, but classy. According to my mother, good taste improved any situation. It was a motto she lived by, and I’d followed suit.

  Always the good girl, that’s me.

  Unfortunately, the bridal boutique where I bought my wedding dress had a no returns policy. I’d chosen an off-the-shoulder chantilly lace trumpet gown that would never go out of style. Not that I’d ever wear it after what Paul DeWitt put me through. So I sold it online for a fifty-percent loss, which was a bummer.

  Being married to a lying, cheating, slimeball would’ve bummed me out more, though.

  Since my mom had raised me to control my emotions, I’d kept it together—at least on the outside. In private, I bawled my eyes out for two months straight.

  Paul had called me for the first few weeks pleading with me to forgive him. He’d admitted cheating on me but said it had been early in our relationship. And if he had known she was my sister then he never would’ve dated her. Hard to believe he’d thought that apology would win me back. I’d grossly overestimated his intelligence.

  That had been four months ago.

  Now, I’d just closed escrow on a ranch-style house located on the Sacramento River—boo-ya! Unfortunately, my new home looked like the eighties had thrown up in it. The remodel overwhelmed me so I recruited my two girlfriends and we were currently peeling strips of orange rooster-covered wallpaper off my kitchen wall—a tedious task that was going three times faster than when I worked alone.

  “My realtor asked me out,” I announced, as I removed an impressively large strip of wallpaper (three roosters-worth).

  Kristen let out a whistle as she defiled the poultry on the adjacent wall. “Guess he wanted more than a commission, huh?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Well, a commission is all he’s getting. I turned him down.”

  “Is this the guy, Kaitlin?” Ginger gestured to the calendar-magnet on my fridge, which included a glamour shot of my realtor, Chase McDermott. “Why would you say no to this fine specimen of a man? Just looking at him makes me want to buy real estate. Not that I can afford it.”

 
; “Oh, I hear you,” I said, picking at a stubborn scrap of wallpaper that didn’t want to come off. “If my dad hadn’t given me the down payment, I’d still be renting, too.”

  Ginger rubbed her chin. “How’d you get your dad to pony up the cash?”

  Shrugging, I said, “He offered, so I accepted. We don’t really go into details about things in my family. It’s all very polite and surface-like. But, I don’t know, maybe he’s trying to make up for divorcing my mom, moving to Seattle, and being absent most of my life.”

  “Darn.” Ginger went back to scratching at her portion of wall. “My parents are still married so I’m out of luck.”

  I made a frowny face and pursed my lips. “Poor you.”

  “Back to Chase McDermott.” Ginger gestured toward his picture. “H. O. T.”

  Kristen hummed her approval, too.

  I flashed Ginger a wry smile. “Feel free to take down his number and call him.”

  She twisted her long, dark hair around her finger, and seemed to think about it a moment. “He likes you, not me. It’s been months since you dumped your loser ex. Time to get back in the saddle, girl.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not into horseback riding anymore.”

  Ginger huffed, then turned to Kristen. “You’re a family therapist. Talk some sense into her.”

  Ugh. They were pushing me to date—again. My stomach knotted as I realized I’d brought this on myself by mentioning Chase. Not smart, Kaitlin. Not smart.

  Kristen glanced my way, then surprised me by shrugging. “If Kaitlin doesn’t want to date Chase McDermott, the most gorgeous man to walk the planet—after Ethan, of course—then that’s her choice, and we should respect that.”

  Surprised, the knots in my belly loosened. “Thank you.”

  Kristen flicked a piece of paper off her sponge, then lifted her lashes. “Although it does seem like an awful waste. It’s not like there’s something horrifyingly wrong with him, right? He doesn’t smell? Or pick his teeth with his fingernail?”

  Ginger shuddered. “I hate when guys do that.”

  My mouth dropped open. “You were going to respect my decision, remember?”

  Kristen shook her head. “I said we should. I never said we would. What gives, Kaitlin? Did you find out he has a rap sheet?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Chase could be the most law-abiding citizen in Sac, I’d still rather spend my time doing something just for me—like remodeling my house. I’m using shabby chic beach-themed decor.”