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

by Vicky Loebel

  And Ellie.

  The slide show finished and started again. Once more, a young and joyful Louisa smiled trustingly at Carl.

  “I’m not sure I can do it.” He pressed his thumb on the power button and killed the computer. “I’m not sure I can suck the happiness out of Ellie.”

  “Who says she’ll let you suck?”

  He raised his hands helplessly.

  “Seriously, Ry.” She scooted back on the desk, crossing her legs. “Does Ellie strike you as spineless?”

  “Hardly.”

  “Incompetent? Stupid? Does she have a substance abuse problem? Does she want money?”

  “I think she wants the opposite of money.” She wanted him not to build a casino. And yet, Ellie hadn’t spoken out last night. True, ruining Ryan would not stop CasParDev, but it would create a delay. “Not poverty. A sort of shared, ethical self-sufficiency for everyone.”

  “Do you trust her?”

  He waved the question away. “Of course.”

  “Have you been honest with her?”

  “Yeah.” He missed his cigarette. “I’m not sure that’s enough.”

  “It’s everything.” Oscar said with the certainty of youth. “No more vampires for you, right? No more sleeping around?”

  He’d lost his taste for the old life. “No more.”

  “Well then, marry the woman, stupid. Stand by her. Be good to her. That’s all you need.”

  His sister’s confidence was oddly reassuring.

  Stand by her. Ryan got to his feet, nodding. Be good to her.

  He could do that. “OK.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “One thing’s sure.” Gran threw her head back and drained a glass of champagne. “We picked the right island to hold a shotgun wedding.”

  “Gran!”

  “Did I say shotgun?” She elbowed Ellie’s ribs. “I meant short notice.” Gran turned in a circle examining the gowns they’d accumulated in their private showroom in Havensight’s most exclusive bridal boutique. “Who’d have thunk there’d be so much to choose from.”

  “That’s thanks to cruise ships, I guess.” Cruise ships and Andersen money. For the right price, all sorts of things appeared to happen quickly. “Brides sail into port, grab dresses, and leave the same day.”

  Lucas lumbered in, carrying an enormous case of tiaras. “They don’t always take dresses with them. There’s a thriving business in the Caribbean delivering wedding clothes to cruise ships.” He set the case on a table, shot Oscar a that’s-the-last-favor-you-get-from-me-young-lady look, and retreated to his guard post outside the door to their showroom.

  Ellie touched a ball gown covered in tiny pearls. “I don’t know how anyone picks.” During the last four hours she and Gran had tried on all sorts of wedding dresses: ball gowns, sweetheart gowns, A-lines, mermaids, plus half a dozen mini-dresses selected by Oscar. And not just white. You could get married in an entire rainbow of Caribbean colors, although Ellie suspected Ryan’s dad might die of a heart attack if she did. He’d already gone crazy with a guest list that stood at three hundred fifty and climbing, an orchestra, truckloads of flowers, a ten-course dinner to be served on the patio at Villa Louisa, three cakes, two singers, and at least one juggling act. Ryan had been unable to explain his father’s enthusiasm, but if Carl Andersen was trying to guilt them into admitting their marriage was a sham, it had almost worked. Every fresh orchid arrangement or stack of rented chairs delivered to Villa Louisa tortured Ellie’s conscience. And while he didn’t show it, she knew it bothered Ryan, too. At least Ellie was getting married to help Ryan. He was only doing it to trick his dad.

  “How about this?” Oscar held up a three-quarters length white A-line with pleated skirt. “It’s got a little personality.” She fanned the pleats revealing rainbow pastels.

  “I love it.” Opal netting covered the bodice, providing a hint of mysterious color. “OK. Let’s try it on.”

  To avoid offending Ryan’s relatives, they’d put together as simple a wedding party as possible, with Doris as their shared matron of honor and one bridesmaid apiece—Anna for Ellie, and Lulu, one of the housekeepers from the Paradise Resort, for Gran. Anna’s gorgeous Asian-American friends, Lani and her sister Kim, had flown from the mainland to serve as stylists. Everyone was sweet and enthusiastic, but without Ryan, Ellie felt out of place among all the finery. It was hard to believe she’d grown up a few miles across the water. She missed her Costa Rican friends, the women who’d been like sisters until they found out they were all sleeping with the same man, but they’d lost touch when the camp fell apart, and Ellie wasn’t sure how to contact them.

  The bridal clerk laced the pleated dress onto Ellie and tugged the strapless bodice straight.

  “Size two,” Oscar teased. “Too bad Ryan’s been overfeeding you.”

  Ellie went out and modeled for her bridesmaids. She felt impossibly glamorous.

  “You need high heels to show off your calves.” Lani produced a pair of pale shimmering pumps and helped Ellie slip them on. “And something retro to complete the look.” They tried a short lace veil and two tiaras before settling on a netted pillbox hat.

  Ellie twirled in front of the mirrors, admiring the flash of pastels. “It’s marvelous.” But Gran wanted a formal wedding. And so did Ryan’s dad. She stopped spinning and let the color disappear. “I think I better stay traditional.”

  “Why not buy two dresses and change for the reception?” Anna suggested. “Lots of brides do that. Ryan’s dad offered to fly you to Paris for your wedding gown. I’m sure he won’t mind the expense.”

  “I wouldn’t either,” Gran told Ellie, “if I was paying for the wedding, which I wish you’d let me do.”

  “Oh, Gran.” Ellie hugged her. The scary thing was, Gran could pay, even for the circus Carl Andersen was putting on. Gran had finally admitted how much CasParDev had offered for her beachfront property, and it was a jaw-dropping sum. Ellie was worried Frank might be marrying Gran for money, but since most people thought the same thing about her and Ryan, she could hardly speak up. “You’re the best gran ever, but you’re not paying for the wedding.”

  “Well, let me at least buy you this dress. It’s not too formal. You can wear it again.”

  Could she? Ellie imagined stuffing the lovely fabric in her duffel bag. What would life be like a week from now? Four weeks? Six months? Could she keep living at Villa Louisa, consulting for CasParDev, when all she wanted was to find some trick or regulation that would prevent construction? Well not all. She wanted Ryan to be happy and earn his independence from his dad. How that could happen without a casino, Ellie didn’t know. But she could see herself wearing this dress at the reception—Ryan in shirtsleeves, holding her, dancing, kissing, maybe more….

  “Yes.” Ellie hugged Gran again. “Yes, thanks so much.”

  “Good, that’s settled.” Lani rolled in another rack of gowns. She was wearing blue jeans with some sort of computer joke T-shirt and still managed to look more put together than anyone else in the room. “I’ve got four more candidates here.” She lifted a ball gown in its crackling plastic bag. “Back to work.”

  Ellie and Gran tried on several more gowns, at last finding a pair of similar A-lines with long flowing skirts. Ellie’s was pure white, embroidered with ropes of white flowers. Gran’s was ivory with lace sleeves and elegant gold accents. They looked perfect together.

  Doris, Lulu, and Anna emerged from dressing rooms in floor-length gold lamé bridesmaids’ gowns, and Kim and Lani applauded.

  “You’d better love these,” Kim teased. “Because we’re scheduled for mani-pedis in twenty minutes.”

  “I do love them.” Ellie watched the wedding party’s reflection, feeling for the first time like a real bride. This is the dress I’ll be married in. She felt a rush of sentiment. It didn’t matter what her reasons were for marrying Ryan. It didn’t feel like a lie.

  “One last touch.” Oscar reached up and pinned a veil to Ellie’s short hai
r. Lace flowed like a waterfall past her ears over her shoulders.

  Anna handed Ellie a tissue while Kim pinned a matching veil on Gran.

  “Yes.” Ellie blotted her eyes.

  “Yes.” Gran reached for Ellie’s hand.

  “Yes,” Lani and Kim said together.

  “Yes,” a man’s exotic voice echoed. “Sí. Perfecta.”

  Ellie swung in surprise. Crowding the doorway to their private showroom were her former boyfriend—slim, long haired, wearing a leather jacket that looked ridiculous in this heat—and Lucas, wearing an unaccustomed frown. “Juan Esteban!”

  “You look perfect.” He crossed the room, snatched her hands up, and kissed them. “I cannot marry you in any other gown.”

  “What?” Ellie’s stomach churned. “What are you talking about?” She tried to pull free but he was gripping too hard. Those clothes, that smirk, his silly macho beard. How could she have ever found this man attractive? “Why are you here?”

  “To claim your heart.” He bent to kiss her.

  Ellie turned her face aside and Juan Esteban’s mouth skidded on her cheek. “Are you insane?” She broke loose, aware of the burning curiosity of the bridal party behind her, of Lucas’ tightly coiled suspicion. For an instant Ellie considered unleashing the Andersen bodyguard on her ex. But that was both petty and unnecessary. She shook her head slightly and Lucas—slightly—relaxed.

  “I thought you’d gone into hiding,” she said. “Aren’t you a fugitive from justice?”

  “That was a foolish misunderstanding. I am once again a respected faculty member of the University of Costa Rica.” He placed his palm against his chest and bowed. “I come to you with my hand on my heart to right the unintentional wrongs of the past.”

  Unintentional, huh? “Not necessary. But thanks. It’s been nice knowing you.” She stopped as Juan Esteban produced a check and, with a dramatic flourish, placed it in her grandmother’s hands.

  “Twenty-five thousand smackers.” Gran pulled the piece of paper close to her eyes. “Signed and everything.”

  “Twenty-five?” That was the exact amount he’d stolen from each of his students. Hadn’t he spent it all?

  “Thanks.” Gran leaned forward and passed the check to Lucas. “As for the wedding dress, though, don’t trouble yourself about it. Ellie’s marrying someone else.”

  “I heard that, yes.” He flicked away the rumor with his fingertips. “I also heard it was a mere business arrangement. A man she has known less than a week. I understand there is no love, no passion” —he started forward but Ellie’s glare stopped him cold— “between my beloved and this rich Andersen nobody.”

  “You understood wrong.” Gran jerked her chin. “Tell him, Elliegator.”

  “How’d you get here?” Ellie dodged the question. “Did Bekka Krump contact you?” His guilty eye-twitch confirmed her guess. “I bet she told you Gran’s come into a lot of money, right?” That would explain why he was buttering them up.

  “Nonsense.” His left eye twitched again. “I may have heard something of your grandmama’s good fortune as I worked tirelessly to reopen Vista de la Selva. My eco-tourism camp,” he explained to the others. “Our camp. The place we built together.” His voice deepened. “The place we learned to love.”

  “The place you buried in debt?”

  “A few unfortunate extravagances. Nothing that cannot be repaired.” Juan Esteban glanced calculatingly at Gran. “Nothing to destroy our undying commitment to the rain forest’s natural beauty, to the visitors whose lives we have touched, to one another.” He oiled forward and caught Ellie’s hand. “To our loving future as husband and wife.”

  “There is no future, Juan Esteban. Not for us.” His touch made her feel sick. “I don’t love you. I don’t even like you anymore.”

  “That’s impossible.” He tried again to kiss her and Ellie stepped on his foot. Not hard. Just a polite stomp to suggest he should leave.

  Juan Esteban hopped backward. “You truly love this Andersen clown? This man-child who has never worked a day in his life?”

  “It’s been nice seeing you. Let’s never do it again.” She eyed his foot and he put more distance between them.

  “Tell us,” the man challenged. “Tell these lovely ladies, your friends. Explain what—apart from money—you see in that buffoon.”

  “That isn’t anyone’s business.”

  “Explain to them, if not me. Proclaim your love for Ryan Andersen.”

  “I—” The collective gaze of the bridal party swept over her. “I—”

  “That’s enough.” Lani moved forward. “Time to go. And before you argue….” She grasped Juan Esteban’s arm. “Be warned—my sister and I know Asian-chick kung fu.”

  “Kung fu?”

  “Plus….” Kim latched onto his other arm. “We’ve spent hundreds of hours beating up video game people and almost never get to practice on real ones.” She grinned at Lani. “Feel like testing your skills?”

  “Tempting.” Lani’s tongue clicked. “Very tempting.”

  “That will not be necessary.” Juan Esteban jerked free. “I shall leave.” He straightened the leather jacket, tossed his hair, and stalked to the door. “But she never said she loved him.”

  There was a long pause while everyone waited for Ellie to contradict him.

  Say it, she urged herself. Even if it isn’t true, say it for Ryan. But she couldn’t choke out the words.

  “Well.” Gran broke the spell. “Let’s get out of these dresses.” She reached up and started unpinning her veil.

  “Right.” Kim signaled the waiting bridal clerk. “Those mani-pedis are waiting.”

  Lucas crossed his arms, frowning at Lani. “Asian-chick kung fu?”

  “Damn straight.” She grinned. “Asian-chick weapons combat, too. Kim and I do the female motion capture for the video game I’m developing.” She eyed Lucas speculatively. “You know, I’m still looking for a buff guy to fill out a few scenes….”

  Ellie started for the dressing room, but then she stopped and turned to her new friends. “I really do care about Ryan,” she said. “I’m not after his money. I swear.”

  Their puzzled, embarrassed looks were worse than open disbelief.

  “Nobody thinks you are, sweetie.” Gran patted her arm.

  “Not for a minute,” Lani agreed.

  “That would be completely out of character,” Doris contributed.

  “Of course not,” the bridal clerk added. “Everyone knows he’s broke.”

  Ellie bit her lip, feeling judged.

  “Don’t worry.” Anna squeezed her arm in a sincere offer of comfort. “Nobody imagines you’re marrying Ryan for money.”

  “Yeah.” Kim said. “We just figured you’re nuts.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Over the course of his adult life, Ryan had organized plenty of stag parties, mostly involving watching strippers, skydiving with strippers, Japanese massage with strippers, fishing trips with strippers, and private flights to Las Vegas—the details of which remained securely sealed under the label potential blackmail inside his head. It was a relief, therefore, to find his own party involved nothing spicier than a five-alarm barbecue on the beach at Villa Louisa, preceded by cutthroat volleyball, followed by an increasingly unbelievable series of stories about how amazed and delighted the other men’s wives had been on their wedding nights. Since Ryan knew their wives—and the majority of couples had been together long before getting married—he assumed the stories were mostly hot air. Distracted by thoughts of Ellie, it was hard to give the expected light-hearted replies. He wondered if other grooms had felt like this during their bachelor parties, like guzzling brews and seeing who could burp the loudest were the last things they wanted to do.

  Eventually, after the bonfire was crackling and he’d poured five of six beers into the sand, Ryan slipped up to the house to sneak a cigarette and check on Ellie’s bachelorette party. Inside the old 1980’s game room, the girls—also drinking
—were jumping up and down in front of a TV, singing karaoke. It looked a lot more fun than competitive burping.

  The side door opened and Ellie stepped onto the patio, barefoot, dressed in short cutoffs and a hot-pink halter top, wafting a cloud of mimosa fumes ahead. Ryan looked away, surprised by how much he wanted to go to her, how uncertain he was of his welcome. The hesitation felt awkward and unfamiliar, as if he’d landed on an undiscovered planet. He melted into shadow.

  Ellie stood, backlit by incandescent light, watching the waves break on the sand.

  “Gee.” She swayed slightly. “It’s awfully lonely out here.”

  She must have smelled his cigarette. “Doesn’t anybody else smoke but me?”

  “No one Lucas lets this close to the villa.” She walked unsteadily to him and pulled his face close to hers. “What’s it like?”

  “Having an interfering cousin who polices my property?”

  “Smoking.” She shut her eyes and drew a breath that tugged his masculinity. “Strange. Not good exactly, but not bad.”

  Bad was beginning to sound good to Ryan. “Ellie—”

  “What’s it taste like?” Her tongue flicked over his lips “Mmm.” She moved closer.

  Ryan captured her waist. She was so slim his fingertips nearly met around her. “El—” Her lips parted. He’d almost forgotten how nice it was to kiss a woman. Scratch that. He’d never kissed a woman as nice as this.

  “You’re sober,” she accused. “At your own stag party. Don’t you drink?”

  “Not usually. Not much.” He’d seen too many people poison themselves with drugs and alcohol. “I’m social enough without it.”

  “I’m drunk,” Ellie admitted. “And I am feeling very social.” She clasped his neck and jumped into his arms.

  Ryan staggered, surprised, as Ellie’s legs fastened around his hips. “El—” This time his lips parted for her. They kissed deeply with Ellie cinched tight against him. He groaned. “We ought to stop.”

  “How come?” She nipped his lip. “Don’t you want to?”