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

by Vicky Loebel

  “Like mad.” He hadn’t had a woman since his divorce. But that phrase—had a woman—left him cold. He didn’t want to have Ellie. He wanted…. Ryan’s mind shied away from further analysis. Instead, he carried her to a secluded bench and set her down straddling his lap. They kissed again. He ran his hand above the waistband of her shorts, resisting his body’s call for more intimate contact. “I don’t want you to think I’m just a plaything.”

  She yanked up his polo shirt and trailed warm fingertips over his abs.

  Ryan’s ears buzzed. His entire body felt electrically charged. He crushed Ellie to him, stroking the small of her back. Soft lips nuzzled his collarbone. “Ellie.” His hand circled forward and found the curve of her breast. She hummed happily and lifted onto her knees, attacking his chin, his jaw, sucking one earlobe.

  “Ellie.” Ryan grasped her shoulders and eased her onto his lap. “Wait. Stop.” He turned her wrists up and kissed them.

  “You really don’t want to? I have an implant. In case you're wondering.” Her cheeks turned deeper red behind their excited flush. “It’s not a daddy-trap or anything. And I’m not too drunk to make up my mind.”

  “Of course not.”

  “I like you, Ryan. You’re an incredibly sexy guy. I’d like to strip you naked and lick you like a lollipop.”

  Her simple honesty lit him on fire. “Me, too. If that was all there was to it, we’d both be naked now.”

  Ellie’s eyes glazed. Her upper body began to tilt.

  Ryan caught her. “But there’s more to it than that. This situation’s out of control, and I can’t tell if we’re falling in” —his voice caught— “if we’re serious or fooling around.”

  “I know.” She looked away. “That’s why we should do it now. Before the wedding. After the ceremony, after we speak our vows, things will be more confused.”

  After the ceremony. This time Ryan’s eyes glazed. After we speak our vows. Two days from now they’d stand in front of all the people they cared about and swear undying love. He’d been so focused on the wedding, he hadn’t thought about the vows.

  Ryan kissed Ellie’s forehead and eased her onto the bench beside him. “Let me show you my bedroom.” He took her hand and led her along the path to his private apartment, unlocking the door with his thumbprint. Inside was the sweeping space that had once been his mother’s art studio, crowned by skylights, separated from a rocky section of beach by an eighteen-foot high wall of glass. Along the back, Ryan had carved out a master bedroom, kitchenette, and small office, leaving the big worktable he used for building architectural models out in the open.

  Lights came up revealing a gallery of dried plants and seashells, unfired pottery, finished and unfinished painted canvasses, stacks of art supplies, easels, sketchbooks, an Aztec-themed rug on its loom. Some of the projects were Ryan’s own impatient efforts, but he’d kept most of the studio as Louisa had left it.

  “It’s beautiful.” Ellie held Ryan’s arm, moving from one project to the next. “Beautiful and sad for so many lovely things to be abandoned.” She put her arm around Ryan’s waist. “Have you ever thought about exhibiting them?”

  “I’ve had inquiries. Mom has a reputation, a couple of pieces in museums. Every so often I get a curator or art collector who asks to come by, and Mrs. Jamala gives them a tour. But….”

  But the art was like him. Left to fend for itself.

  “Sometimes,” Ryan said harshly, “I think if she wanted to be famous, she could have damn well stuck around and taken care of it.” He turned to the kitchen. “Coffee?”

  “No, thanks.” Ellie opened his freezer and found a bottle of Belvedere. “How about this?”

  “OK.” He filled two lowball glasses with ice and poured vodka.

  “Thanks.” She knocked hers back, refilled the glass, and emptied it again. “Not much kick.”

  “It catches up with you.” He led her to a sofa facing the sea and used a remote control to dim the lights. The ghost of rocks and surf joined their reflections in the glass.

  Ellie snuggled close. “I used to hate my parents for drowning,” she said. “They were trying to save their boat from a big storm. They sailed to Gran’s first, stupidly, to drop me off and then went back and tried to outrun it.”

  “I heard about that as a kid.” The boat had hit a reef and broken apart. Ellie must have been two or three at the time.

  “If they’d stayed home, if they’d been better sailors, if they’d taken me along with them, for heaven’s sake, instead of wasting time stopping at Gran’s, my parents would be alive today. It’s hard to forgive such a big mistake.”

  Ryan touched her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  “I got over it.” She rattled ice cubes and set her empty glass on a table. “They loved me. They knew Gran would take care of me. They did the best they could.”

  Ryan remembered the way his mom had waited until he wasn’t looking to jump. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

  “Maybe your mother didn’t mean to leave you. Maybe she just couldn’t outrun her own storm.”

  “Maybe.” Something loosened in Ryan’s chest. Maybe it wasn’t my fault. He put his arm around Ellie’s shoulders. “You don’t have any urge to go sailing in storms or smash your brains on rocks, do you?”

  “Safety first.” She smoothed her hand over his shirt. “How about you, hotel-ledge walker? Are you done taking stupid risks?”

  “I’ve lost my taste for hotel ledges,” Ryan admitted. “But I would like to teach you to cliff dive.”

  “Mmm. Would that make me dizzy?” She swung her leg over and straddled him. “Like this?”

  Ryan’s breath caught. “Very likely.” They spent some time exploring heights. After a while, Ellie found the remote control and doused the lights completely.

  Darkness, and then a glow of stars filled the room.

  “Would cliff diving make my heart race?” She placed Ryan’s palm on her chest. “Like this?”

  “It might.” His pulse chased furiously after hers.

  She pulled the halter top over her head. Her breasts were small and perfect, like the rest of her. “Would we burn up?”

  Ryan stared. “Somebody get me a fire extinguisher.” He jerked Ellie to him and covered her mouth with his. To hell with waiting. Her lips parted. He fumbled with her shorts.

  Ellie hiccupped. “Oh, dear.” Her head wobbled. “Oh, dear. I think I need a nap.”

  For half a second, Ryan’s brain pretended not to hear. It took another five seconds to reclaim his hands.

  “I’m sorry.” She started sliding off his lap. “So sorry. I think the vodka caught up.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Ryan helped her roll onto the couch. “This is fine.”

  Ellie wiggled close, resting her head on his thigh. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” He closed his eyes and forced his body to relax. Ryan’s frustration faded slowly, leaving him content. He sipped his vodka and stroked Ellie’s baby-fine wisps of hair.

  “You’re a good man.” She caught his hand and kissed it. “And don’t worry about the wedding. I figured out my vow.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m going to trust you.”

  Could she? Really? “What about the casino?”

  “I hate it.” Ellie sighed. “I don’t trust it, but I’m going to trust you.”

  “Thank you.” He reached for a cashmere throw and draped it awkwardly over her, one handed.

  She sighed again, closing her eyes.

  “Ellie Green.” Ryan knew his vow too. “You are the best and most important thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m going to do everything in my power to deserve you.”

  She didn’t seem to hear, but that was fine. Ryan leaned back, feeling her breath rise and fall against his leg. It didn’t matter whether Ellie heard his promise. He’d heard it, and he wouldn’t let her down.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Fantastic.” Kim cocked her head, studying her h
andiwork. “Absolutely gorgeous, if I say so myself.” She handed Ellie a mirror to inspect her wedding-day appearance.

  “Wow.” Ellie didn’t have much experience with makeup. The most she’d ever done was use a bit of mascara and sun-resistant lip balm. She’d expected to emerge from Kim’s cosmetic session powdered and painted to inhuman perfection, but really she just looked like herself. A more glowing, less sunburned, significantly sexier version of herself, but still the same person. “It’s not fussy at all.”

  “Good makeup should reveal and highlight a woman’s beauty. Not plaster her face into submission.”

  “Thanks. You’re very good.” Ellie held a smile while the wedding photographer snapped a photo of her and Kim. In the chair beside her—in a room at Villa Louisa that had been converted years ago into a bridal salon—Lani was putting the finishing touches on Gran’s makeup.

  “Don’t praise her,” Lani scolded. “I’ve got a bunch of promotional videos to produce and Kim keeps raising her prices.”

  Ellie closed her eyes and endured a light misting of hairspray. “I thought you were making a video game.”

  “A little of this, a little of that.” Lani circled around Gran. “Since the game’s ahead of schedule, we decided to branch out and do a web series.” She turned to Lucas, who was making a valiant effort to pretend he hadn’t been pressed into service as assistant stylist. “Assuming I can talk your sexy brother into starring in it.”

  “Lars?” Lucas’ brow furrowed. “Why him?”

  “Oh, muscles, charisma, his chiseled Viking profile.”

  Ellie had met Lars briefly. He was a year younger than Lucas, she gathered, but they could almost have passed for twins.

  “Plus, Lars is awfully handsome in a formal suit.” Lani glanced, wide-eyed, at Lucas’ well-tailored wedding clothes. “Oh, right,” she kidded. “You, too.”

  Lucas was handsome, Ellie reflected. Very elegant for such a big guy. But what impressed her most was not the way he dressed but how smoothly he’d been handling guests. More than one snoopy relative or curious reporter had tried to worm their way into the ladies’ dressing room only to be charmingly, if irresistibly, turned aside.

  Kim finished taming Ellie’s hair into tiny soft curls. “Where’s the veil?”

  “I’ve got it.” Anna pulled the billowing lace from its protective bag and helped Kim pin it in place. “OK,” she said. “Close your eyes.”

  They unsnapped Ellie’s protective smock and led her to the full-length mirrors. Beside her, she heard Anna and Lani move Gran into place.

  “On the count of three,” Lani said. “One…two….”

  Ellie held her breath nervously. This is a mistake. Not marrying Ryan—she felt calm about that. No, it was this insane attempt to pass her off as a fashionable bride. Ellie—the girl who cut her hair with a Swiss army knife, who had two pairs of ripped jeans to her name. It was going to take exactly fifteen seconds for everyone out there to realize she was a fake.

  If only she and Ryan had held a small private wedding, or even eloped. Of course, that would have defeated the purpose of getting married, which was to impress Ryan’s dad. Well, he better be impressed. Six hundred guests packed in chairs on the beach. Ten chefs, fifty servers, musicians, local dignitaries, and the press. The only thing missing was a troupe of dancing elephants—last time she checked.

  “OK.” Anna squeezed her shoulder. “You can look.”

  Ellie peeked at Gran in her gold and ivory dress and then risked a glance at herself. “It’s….” She swallowed hard. “It’s gorgeous.” The snow white strapless A-line gown contrasted perfectly with her hard-won, seamless new tan. She turned in a circle, entranced by the luxurious swish of cloth, feeling genuinely beautiful for the first time in her life. Beneath her folded veil, short curls hid all evidence Ellie had butchered her own hair. Even her shoes—the opal heels Lani had selected—glowed like magic slippers with reflected light. But it was Gran, radiating joy, who commanded Ellie’s attention.

  “Oh, Gran.” They caught each other’s hands. “You look perfect.” That wasn’t right. “You are perfect. You’re the best, kindest, dearest grandmother any girl ever had.”

  “Just the proudest.” Gran beamed. “That Ryan fellow better appreciate his good luck, or else.”

  “Double back at you for Frank.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Lani zipped Anna into her shimmering gold gown as Doris and the remaining bridesmaid, Lulu, came through the door. Her friends had thought of everything, Ellie realized, even coordinating makeup so all the women would look similar without upstaging the brides.

  Doris opened a large box and took out two matching bouquets. “I think you made a good decision about flowers,” she said. “These are perfect.” They weren’t the big flashy arrangements Ryan’s father wanted, but all the plants had come directly from St. John—collected and wired together by Ellie’s and Gran’s friends. “It’s a good thing you’re getting married during our slow season,” Doris added. “Half the Paradise Resort staff took the day off to attend.”

  “Thank you.” Gran and Ellie both reached for tissues.

  “No blotting.” Kim opened a fan and waved it in front of them. “No tears.”

  No tears. Ellie clung to her bouquet, smelling the soft and spicy scents of home. Frangipani. Jasmine. Bay. That home was gone. She’d watched the bulldozers take it in bits and snatches through Ryan’s telescope. But the flowers she’d grown up loving were still there.

  “Perfect.” Doris surveyed the group. “Is everyone ready? Shall we warn them outside?”

  Ellie’s feet were suddenly very heavy. “Can I have a minute?” she asked awkwardly. “Alone?”

  The women traded glances. “Of course.” Doris smiled. “We’ll wait outside by the terrace.”

  Ellie faced the mirror, swallowing a rush of nerves. Where was all this leading? Were she and Ryan a romantic couple? It had felt that way the night of the bachelorette party. The night I threw myself at him and fell asleep. Since then, they’d been rushed like crazy, and there’d always been people around.

  I want him. She’d been too scared to say the words, almost too timid to think them. I want him to want me. She was close—dangerously close—to being head over heels in love with her fiancé, and she had no idea if he felt the same. What if I am in love? the bride in the mirror asked solemnly. What next? It was comforting to wear the traditional white dress and imagine all the women in history who’d faced their weddings with jittery nerves. It was even more comforting to remember her vow to Ryan. Trust. She’d promised to trust him. Ellie’s anxiety faded.

  “Out of the way, you stupid Viking,” a woman shrilled in the hall.

  “I will speak my peace,” a man’s voice joined hers. “Either now or during the ceremony. You cannot muffle me with threats.”

  Ellie opened the door and found Juan Esteban arm in arm with—why didn’t this surprise her?—Bekka Krump.

  “It’s OK, Lucas. They can have five minutes.” She ushered the pair through the door, more relieved than embarrassed when Lucas followed them in.

  “Four minutes and forty-five seconds,” Ellie told her former boyfriend. “What do you want?”

  “To claim you, my beloved. To elope together here and now.”

  Right. “And how much is Bekka paying you to get rid of me?”

  Juan Esteban opened his mouth to lie.

  “Five hundred thousand,” Bekka preempted. “Half to him, half to you as long as you’re gone in ten minutes.”

  “I’d be insulted if I were after Ryan’s money.” Ellie drew herself upright in her heels. “That’s barely petty cash.”

  “Hah. I bet you signed a prenup leaving you penniless after he dumps you.”

  “Did not.” She’d signed a ridiculously generous prenup, a contract involving sums of money she could scarcely imagine.

  “And even if you didn’t,” Bekka continued spitefully, “Ryan’s broke. Carl Andersen’s never going to release his trust.
Not after I’m finished with him.” She crossed her arms. “Not after Carl marries me.”

  “Eew.” Ellie almost felt sorry for Ryan’s father. “Yuck.”

  “I’ve got two plane tickets and half the money.” Bekka opened her purse. “You get the other half as soon as I see the signed marriage license.”

  “Sorry. Not interested.” Ellie headed for the door.

  “Wait!” Juan Esteban started to grab her, glanced at Lucas, and raised his palms. “You aren’t doing this right,” he growled at Bekka. “You have not touched the right nerve.”

  “What’s that?” Ellie rolled her eyes. “Our great love?”

  “Your great loyalty to your friends.” He took a keychain out of his pocket. Attached to the ring was a tiny computer drive. “Specifically, your loyalty to the ladies of Vista de la Selva, whose academic records I neglected to file.” He swung the keychain around his pinky finger. “I have them here.”

  “Our grades?”

  “Tests, papers, and grades. Now that I am reinstated, the university assures me that, provided we pay the missing tuition, you will get full credit.”

  “We will?” That meant they’d get their degrees. Ellie calculated tuition in her head: five women, including her, five thousand dollars per year, four years. “That’s one hundred thousand dollars.”

  Juan Esteban smiled. “One hundred and thirty-seven thousand, with administrative fees. You can pay it out of your half of Miss Krump’s money.”

  “No.”

  “Don’t be selfish. With my half, I shall reopen Vista de la Selva, making it bigger and better than ever. You and I will run our ecological paradise as husband and wife.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “It is the only way to get your academic credit. You and your friends.” Juan Esteban dangled the keychain in front of her. “How long have you known Ryan Andersen? A few weeks? A few days? This represents twenty solid woman-years of effort.” He cut his eyes to Lucas. “Password protected of course.”

  Ellie stared at the device that held the secret to her ecology degree, the degrees of her dearest friends. True, they’d hated each other after the we-all-slept-with-Juan-Esteban disaster, but they’d mostly worked past that by the time Vista de la Selva went bankrupt. And they all deserved their academic credit.