Sweetheart Bride: A Tropical Billionaire Marriage of Convenience (Brides of Paradise Book 2)

by Vicky Loebel

  “Got it.” Oscar exploded around a corner. “Green silk for Ellie Green.” She waved a flowing dress woven with delicate yellow birds. “It’s so cliché it’s almost cutting edge.”

  “It reminds me of the rain forest.” Ellie ignored the price tag and touched the soft fabric. “But it looks a little too long.”

  “That’s why the fashion-industrial complex invented alterations. Go put it on.” The girl scampered away. By the time Ellie changed, a pair of chatty seamstresses had been recruited to fit and pin. Oscar supervised, telling the ladies a long complicated story about the time she and a cousin made fake sea turtle nests and spent three days leading mainland regulators on a wild chase. She was a lot like Ryan, Ellie decided, without the defensive undercurrent. The effect was charming, if a little exhausting.

  “We’ll have everything sent to Henrik’s house.” Oscar gave the salesclerk directions. “We can change there tonight.”

  Ellie got dressed and piled her purchases on the counter for delivery.

  “Jewelry store next.” Oscar tugged her out the door. “Gotta resize your ring.”

  They made their way through the muggy tourist district of Charlotte Amalie’s Main Street, lined with old warehouses that had long since been converted into art galleries and boutiques. Three blocks down, Oscar turned into a cobblestone alley and dragged Ellie through the door of a frostily elegant jewelry store. This being the islands, long greetings were exchanged, along with gossip about the recent summer storm. The jeweler had spent the night behind her heavy business shutters, praying her roof wouldn’t fly off. Ellie remembered Gran’s ruined cottage and did her best to sympathize.

  “I know this ring,” the woman cooed over Ellie. “We made the setting. But it’s too heavy for a pretty girl like you. You should let me show you something more delicate.”

  “I really don’t want to change the setting.” This was the ring Ryan had given her. “Can you resize it?”

  “Of course, yes. But not today. You’ll have to leave it overnight.”

  They haggled briefly. Ellie agreed to bring it in later and bought a ring-guard to keep it on for now. Meanwhile Oscar fidgeted from case to case as though hatching a plot. Ellie wondered what she was up to. Not shoplifting, surely? She didn’t seem like that sort of kid.

  “You need earrings,” Oscar blurted. “You can’t keep wandering around in broad daylight with naked lobes.”

  Ellie’s bare ears had gotten her this far. “How about clip-ons?”

  “You’re joking.” The teenager clutched her heart. “Really, let’s do it. They’ll set you up in less than five minutes. I want a new stud anyway.”

  “You’ve already got two in each ear.”

  “We can get matching posts. It’s my engagement present. How about rubies?” She zeroed in on a glittering red case.

  “How about garnets?” Ellie guided her to a cheaper tray. “The darker red goes with the swirls in my opal, don’t you think?”

  “Sure. Cool.” Oscar was trying to sound casual. “But I’m piercing my nose.”

  Which explained why she looked suspicious. “Sorry,” Ellie said flatly. “Nose piercings require you bring your dad.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Oscar plopped in a chair. “Like that will happen.”

  The sales clerk measured and marked their ears. Ellie gritted her teeth against the crunching noise but felt surprisingly little pain. Oscar’s third piercings, high on her ears, must have hurt more, but she kept a brave face. Five minutes later they were out the door, wearing their blood-red gems, while the jeweler closed up her shop behind them.

  “What now?” Oscar asked brightly. “Want to hike the Ninety-Nine Steps through town?”

  Four o’clock on a sweltering August afternoon wasn’t the best time for sight-seeing, even if Ellie hadn’t lived in the islands all her life. She glanced at the dwindling crowd and wiped sweat off her forehead. It felt strange not to be carrying shopping bags. That small insight into what it meant to be an Andersen bothered her almost more than how much money they’d spent. These people paid other people to make their lives easy. There’d be no hot, jolting safari-taxi trip to the ferry terminal, no crowded ferry ride home. Ellie had no home to ride the ferry to, in any case. She thought of Gran, thousands of miles away in Las Vegas, and felt her chest get tight.

  Oscar nudged her. “I know a bartender who will sell me a margarita.”

  “No way.” Ellie took a deep breath. “I know a place nearby that does a killer milkshake, though.”

  “OK.” They found the shop and settled gratefully into a wooden booth. A minute later, two giant milkshakes were placed in front of them. Ellie thought of the five pounds she’d gained in less than a week and started with a refreshing sip of water.

  Oscar toyed with her straw. “I love my brother.” She gazed across with serious blue eyes. “You’re not going to hurt him, are you?”

  The question caught Ellie off guard. “I don’t want to.” What if she blocked the casino? Would it do him real harm? “I hope not.”

  “Ryan can be a jerk. Sometimes he lets you down. Like, we went to Virgin Gorda once when I was ten, and he forgot and left me sitting there all night. But he’s still a good guy.”

  “I know.” A good guy who kept his own harem of vampires. Ellie sighed.

  “You like him?”

  Too much. “I guess I do.”

  Oscar nodded. “Don’t let him hurt you either.”

  It sounded easy. Ellie lifted her shake. “I’ll drink to that.”

  Chapter Ten

  Ryan stood on the red brick terrace of Henrik’s home high above Charlotte Amalie and looked at the nighttime view of city lights, dark sea, and looming islands. He’d have preferred to hold the engagement party at the Paradise Resort—mostly because the extra trouble it took to cross to St. John meant a lot of his relatives wouldn’t attend—but Henrik had suggested Ellie might not want to be so close to her former home while it was being bulldozed, and Ryan had to admit the obvious truth of that.

  In the event, most of his relatives were unavailable, with only a modest forty or fifty planning to attend. And since Henrik’s husband, Sam, ran the premier catering business in the Caribbean, the food was guaranteed to be delicious. Ryan felt a little guilty about letting his favorite uncles host an engagement party under false pretenses, but not guilty enough to turn down Sam’s famous truffled scallops.

  Anyway, Ellie and I are genuinely engaged. He wasn’t sure what that meant. He wasn’t planning to marry the woman, and heaven help her if she wanted to marry him. He had a hazy vision of the two of them growing old as…as…. The way they had fit together on his patio shuddered through him. OK, not friends. But not lovers either. People who loved Ryan ended up jumping off cliffs.

  All he knew was the idea of marrying anyone other than Ellie had become impossible during the last few days. Perhaps that was the true meaning of engagement. A simple promise not to marry someone else.

  So, where was she? He paced the terrace, chatting distractedly, watching the door for his fiancée. He’d flown Gigi in from Vegas as a surprise and wanted to see Ellie’s face when they got together.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” Van Cooper-Andersen loomed up like an enormous trained bear. “Look who finally caught the wedding bug.” Ryan spent an obligatory moment pitting his handshake against the large man’s grip. It was wasted effort. Van had recently given up a multi-million dollar empire and gone back to running his own fishing charter. His fingers were like miniature steel clamps. On the other hand, Ryan consoled himself, the guy’s two-button business suit smelled faintly of mothballs.

  “OK, let the poor man go.” Van’s new wife, Cherry, saved Ryan from an undignified yelp. Six feet tall with curves like Wonder Woman and the instincts of a Fortune 500 CEO, she and Van had taken an unbelievable seven years to figure out they were in love.

  “Congratulations, you goof.” Cherry gave Ryan a spine-cracking hug. “How on earth did you trick a nice kid like Ellie
into marrying you?” Cherry had known Ellie before she went to Costa Rica.

  “I showed her photographs of Van and slipped the ring on when she fainted.”

  The terrace door opened. He ducked around Cherry to see Ellie make her appearance wearing a silky calf-length dress in flowing shades of green with a simple daisy behind one ear. High-heeled sandals added a willowy note to her thinness while her stern upright posture—nervousness, he suspected—reminded Ryan of a blond, slightly punky Audrey Hepburn.

  The room burst into applause driving the startled Ellie back. Ryan hurried over and caught her hands, providing an anchor against the tidal wave of evaluation. Not that she had anything to fear. Her dress, her hair, the perfume she wore, couldn’t have been more perfect. All anyone had to do was glance at the woman to see how absolutely genuine she was….

  The clapping faded into expectant silence. Ellie gazed at Ryan in mute appeal. His own throat locked, leaving him, possibly for the first time in his life, lost for words.

  “Elliegator!” Gigi swooped forward side-by-side with Frank.

  Ellie’s smile blossomed. “Gran!” They grabbed each other, laughing, and Ryan’s relatives returned to their own concerns.

  Frank punched Ryan’s arm. “Thanks for the flight.” He was wearing a black suit tonight, two piece, over a well-filled black muscle tee, still with the same gold chain and pocket bulge he’d had in Vegas. Ryan had asked Lucas to make inquiries after Ellie implied Frank might be in the mob. But all they’d learned was that the other casino owners treated him with kid-glove respect. “Gigi,” Frank said, “was real excited about the jet.”

  “My pleasure.” Ryan had been forced to trade a block of rooms during Casino Paradise’s grand opening so he could borrow the jet again, but it was worth it to see Ellie’s glowing happiness. Doubly worth it, when she wheeled toward Ryan and caught him in an enthusiastic embrace.

  “Thank you.” She kissed him fast and then went back to hugging Gigi.

  “Don’t I get any of this sugar?” Doris from the Paradise Resort tapped Ryan’s shoulder. He turned obligingly and shared the love. More than anyone, more than her son, Chris, who’d been Ryan’s blood brother and closest friend, Doris was the one person who’d always believed in him. She hadn’t even opposed Ryan on the casino, although they’d had some serious discussions about how to build it to have the least impact on the resort next door.

  Doris leaned forward to murmur in Ryan’s ear, “You’re not leading that sweet girl on, are you? Because if you are, we’re going to have words.”

  “No, ma’am. It’s all completely honest.” At least between him and Ellie. To keep from lying he added, “The engagement surprised us, too, but we’re planning to take things slow and careful from now on.”

  “Good.” Her nod of approval released a knot of tension in his chest.

  “Congratulations.” Doris’ pastry chef—who also happened to be Chris’ father-in-law—shook Ryan’s hand, grinning. “I hear there’s lots more Andersens to choose from,” he told Ellie, “if this lug lets you down.”

  “So far, so good.” Ellie stepped closer to Ryan, who put his arm possessively around her waist.

  “Ellie, welcome home.” Now it was Cherry’s turn to intrude. Ryan found himself wishing his relatives were less social. And much farther away. Cherry locked her powerful arm around Ellie’s. “Let me introduce you around.”

  “Um.” Ellie glanced sideways as she was dragged from Ryan. “Right now?”

  “No time like the present. The men are dying to find out who finally settled for Ryan, and the ladies can’t wait another second to check out your ring….”

  Ryan watched them go, feeling unhappy, not understanding fully why. Ellie was brave enough to face an entire armed regiment of Andersens, and Cherry had the muscles to beat up anyone who misbehaved. Not that she’d have to. The path of laughter surrounding the two women as they moved through the terrace proved Van’s wife had the situation under control.

  Still, he’d have preferred to look after Ellie himself, carefully orchestrating her first family encounter. There’s lots more Andersens to choose from. That wasn’t funny. Ryan had several attractive, financially independent bachelor cousins just waiting for a bright woman with a lick of sense to come along. He gazed at Van and wondered if his own face had the same abandoned hangdog look as Cherry’s new husband. Curse this party. He and Ellie had things to talk about. Besides, they were going to have to kiss convincingly in front of witnesses tonight. They ought to find a quiet place to practice.

  “So,” his cousin Chris’ voice asked from behind, “is this legit?”

  Ryan turned cautiously. Things had been cool between him and his blood brother this year, first because of the wedding reality show Ryan had produced at the Paradise Resort—which was pretty unfair considering that was where Chris met his wife, Anna—and second because, unlike his mother, Chris strongly opposed the casino. Henrik had barely talked him into putting up with it.

  “Are you in love with Ellie?” Chris asked. “Or is this a scheme to get your hands on her grandmother’s property?”

  “Of course not.” It was a totally different scheme. “I already—” He cleared his throat. “That is, Mrs. Green sold me her place before Ellie returned from Costa Rica. We got involved recently when…um…she started consulting for CasParDev.”

  “There’s a rumor that you’re engaged to Bekka.”

  “In her fevered imagination. And possibly in dear Dad’s.” Ryan thought of Bekka wearing his mother’s emerald ring and his eyes narrowed. “Speaking of whom….” He jerked his chin as Edgar the bodyguard strode through the door. He was followed, after a short conversation into his radio, by Carl Andersen, walking arm-in-arm with Bekka herself.

  “Now, that’s interesting,” Chris remarked.

  Interesting. Right. To an event promoted as dressy-casual, Bekka had worn a scarlet curve-hugging gown with plunging neckline, accessorized by a fortune in jewels. Her slingback stilettos were a fraction short of what a porn star might totter in, and her long chestnut hair had been piled in an elaborately braided bun. To add insult to injury, the way she clung to Ryan’s father clearly announced she’d come here as his date.

  For the second time in twenty minutes, silence descended on the terrace.

  “I was about to say you dodged a bullet.” Chris’ expression became a lot more sympathetic. “But it looks like Bekka’s managed to reload.”

  Chapter Eleven

  There was a special place in Hell, Ellie decided, for people who faked their engagements. She clung to Ryan's hand and endured the odd sight of Gran and Frankie-Baby dancing the cha-cha-cha. Her one consolation was knowing that, when he died, Ryan was going to Hell with her.

  Then again, the underworld might be crowded. After some of the unfriendly glances and catty remarks tonight, she thought quite a few Andersens might end their lives in flames. Thank goodness for Cherry, and Anna, and Anna’s dad, George. And Gran, and Doris, and Henrik, and even Frank, whose uncultured enthusiasm rolled straight over even the most dedicated snobs. The truth was, most of Ryan’s family had been perfectly friendly. It was her guilty conscience that made their conversation sting.

  Her guilty conscience and the horrible way they talked about Ryan. These were people who’d grown up with him, spent their summers with him, met him at countless birthdays and weddings over the years, and every one of them took it for granted the casino project would fail.

  Of course, Ellie wanted the casino to fail, but that wasn’t Ryan’s fault, was it? All he’d done was invite her to consult for CasParDev. And slept with Bekka. But that had been more than a decade ago. And faked our engagement. But that was to keep his dad from taking his money. One glance at Carl Andersen and Bekka dancing together was enough to make it clear Ryan’s father was a jerk. Ellie cringed as Bekka bumped and wriggled against the older man, all while wearing the emerald engagement ring he’d given her to marry Ryan.

  Not that Ryan seemed to mind.
He appeared to be as cheerful as ever, quick with jokes, careful to include Ellie in conversations. It took a while for her to notice how many of those were on subjects she felt comfortable with—the islands, Costa Rica, natural ecology. The man had a tremendous talent for putting people at ease.

  Ellie remembered Ryan’s shocked face when Bekka smashed his mother’s pottery, the look of grief he’d tried so hard to hide, and stepped closer. That was part of the act she’d agreed to, right? It wasn’t the tingle she felt with Ryan beside her. It wasn’t his affectionate answering smile. Ryan’s hand slipped behind her and Ellie’s heart pounded.

  He had such long eyelashes….

  The music stopped. Oscar, occupying a full-sized DJ booth, played a ballad and turned the lights low.

  “C’mon.” Ryan took off, dragging Ellie with him. “Let’s find a private corner.”

  She wasn’t sure that was a good idea. People got up to things in private corners. Juan Esteban certainly had, and Sheik Ryan was bound to be every bit as imaginative when it came to corner things to do. Plus Ellie had a healthy imagination herself. They made their way along the terrace to a bench swing overlooking the Charlotte Amalie harbor. Warm breezes heavy with approaching rain flowed sensually past her skin while far below tiny boats flickered like fireflies.

  “Ellie.” Ryan removed his suit coat and patted the bench beside him.

  She almost made it. She meant to, but at the last moment her body changed direction and landed on his lap. Ryan’s arms circled her waist. He looked startled—like a kid who’s gotten an unexpected ‘A’—but not displeased.