The Masquerading Groom: Bachelor Billionaire Romance

by Taylor Hart

  He felt for a switch to light it, hoping a nice gas fireplace would instantly light. No such luck. But he did find a box of matches!

  After sliding it open, his heart plunged—the box was empty. He cursed and banged his fist against the side of the fireplace. “Seriously?”

  Roman sucked in a long breath and tried to get his frustration under control. He felt like he was trying to throw a pass for a first down with no open receivers. “Uncle Jim!” He yelled and spun around, looking for anything that could be used for fuel.

  He stumbled around, feeling the walls, trying to find the way to the kitchen. He needed to get in there, turn on a light and find some matches.

  Part of a wall gave, and he pushed a door into the kitchen. He felt along the side of the wall and found a light switch. He flipped it.

  Nothing.

  He flipped it quickly back and forth and felt for another one. “Man!”

  Keeping his hand against the wall, he felt his way around, hoping he could find the cupboards and rummage for something. Soft light poured in from the outside windows of the kitchen. The moon shone high in the sky, visible even through the snow that fell in fluffy clumps. The whole scene looked like something out of a storybook—all soft, cozy, and white. Well, minus the warm part of cozy. The very important warm part that propelled him to go to the massive cupboards and fling them open, searching for something helpful.

  He thought he saw a box of matches and reached up, extending himself as far as he could to get the box, thinking that whoever usually got into these top cupboards must be a giant.

  The box stayed just out of reach. It seemed like every time he almost touched it the box scooted back, evading him.

  Without warning, the kitchen door burst open, and even colder air rushed through the room.

  “Who’s there? Show yourself!” Roman tried to get a view of this person.

  The sound of a shotgun being cocked put him on alert. Then the barrel of a shotgun came into view. His heart rate spiked. “Put the gun down,” he said calmly.

  If he’d anticipated the assailant would calmly put the shotgun down, he’d been half right. The shotgun fell to the ground and the intruder ran straight for him, getting in a good shove to Roman’s ribs and knocking him off balance. He stumbled back and then tripped over a chair and fell.

  At this point, all Roman knew was this guy would pay.

  The assailant pounced on him, taking him all the way to the floor.

  Roman was grateful he’d trained so hard to get his strength and agility back. He easily used his opponent’s momentum to roll them both. He stopped when he was on top and quickly secured both his assailant’s hands above his head, noting he wasn’t very big, even in all the snow gear he had on. “Mess with the bull, get the horn.”

  “Ouch!”

  As the adrenaline faded, Roman realized the body he was currently subduing was definitely feminine. He reacted as if he’d bit into a piece of cake expecting chocolate and realizing it was salt cake instead.

  Immediately he yanked back his hold, pulling himself up. “What the—”

  “Language.” The woman stood up quickly and gave him a look that told him she wished she still had the shotgun. She reached for something and then flipped on a lantern flashlight.

  The first thing he noticed, besides the fact that she looked angry, was that her eyes were green. Cat green, as his mother would have said. His mother had been a cat fan. He’d often teased her about being the cat lady, but he’d brought her every stray kitten he’d found toward the end of the cancer, hoping something would cheer her up.

  Red hair with soft curls tumbled down her shoulders. It was the color of leaves turning in the fall. He almost couldn’t breathe for a second. She looked so beautiful and fierce and like she would rip his head off if she could. He’d seen that kind of ferocity in only a few people—cancer survivors and three-hundred pound defensive tackles that were getting paid a heck of a lot of money to put him on his backside. For no good reason, it made him laugh.

  It was evidently the wrong response. It made her ferocity increase. He could tell from the way her cat-green eyes narrowed before she bent to pick the shotgun up. “I wouldn’t laugh.”

  He stuck his hand out. “Whoa. I think we’ve had enough of the gun for tonight, don’t you?”

  “Who are you?” She used both hands to brace the shotgun against her shoulder and she placed one foot behind her as if she were preparing to fire.

  If only there had been more time to truly appreciate the mussed up, angry, and still beautiful woman in front of him. “Look, just relax?”

  This time she smirked, actually smirked, at him. “Excuse me, who do you think you are? I can have the cops here in two seconds.” She switched her stance and put the shotgun down and propped it against the table. She pulled out a phone.

  The commanding way she said it, like some prison warden, made him laugh again.

  With her thumb, she swiped the screen on her phone and pushed in a code. “Apparently you like to go around breaking into people’s places. What? Did you hear about Jim and think you could come squat here or something?” A horrid look washed over her face. She pinched her lips. “Well, you can’t.” She pressed a button and put the phone to her ear, pinching her lips in satisfaction.

  On reflex, he took her phone away from her and pushed end. He didn’t need this kind of publicity for breaking and entering at the moment. His agent definitely wouldn’t be happy about something like that. “Now, hold on.”

  Nails scraped his hand as she tried to retrieve what he’d taken. “Hey!”

  Altering his stance, he held the phone out of reach. “I said hold on.” Apparently, she wasn’t really going to kill him, so that was a relief.

  Relentless was what he would call her antics for getting the phone back. “Give me my phone!”

  It wasn’t that he thought she was dangerous or that she wasn’t owed an explanation, but the aggressive way she reached for her phone made him want to keep it. He easily faked right and dodged left.

  She fell fast. She’d clearly planned on the weight of his body to ram against but ended up landing on the floor instead.

  It struck him that he was acting like a teenager. She clearly knew his uncle and was just trying to protect his property. “I’m sorry,” he said it quickly, but sincerely. He reached a hand out to help her up.

  The woman scowled at his hand and stood by herself. She sucked in a long gulp of air, plucking her phone out of his hand. “You better tell me who you are and what you want.” Her eyes were on fire. He couldn’t help thinking it matched her hair.

  He let out a breath and held back a laugh. “I’m the owner.”

  The words hung in the air, and she studied him for a second, examining him the way he would examine a new play that coach had added to the playbook. Intensely. Carefully.

  “You’re Jim’s nephew?” It wasn’t as much a statement as something that came out of her mouth with as much mystifying power as he felt. She looked him up and down, this time her eyes going into slits. “The great Roman Young.”

  This time, he did laugh. “Guess that description’s accurate.” He couldn’t say he didn’t like the way ‘great’ sounded in front of his name.

  Without warning she laughed, hard and without humor. She shook her head and picked up the shotgun, putting it behind the kitchen door. “Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.”

  He was confused. “What?”

  She tsked her tongue. “Of course you don’t want me to call the police with the media coverage you’ve had lately.” She shuffled to the same cupboard he’d searched earlier and whipped it open, pulling out a box of matches. “Do you know how many things need to get done around here? How many times I’ve had to run over here to keep the riffraff out at night and check stuff? Do you have any idea how much needs to be done before people can stay here, and we’re supposed to be opening in two months?” She shook her head and held up the box of matches. Her expression shifted from ange
r to exasperation. “Seriously, why didn’t you start a fire? It’s cold in here.”

  He ran his hand over the stubble on his face. Before he could move to help, she had already walked into the main room and was making noise. He followed and watched as she expertly built a fire, trying to blow off her little rant about his selfishness. People never understood him. “I couldn’t find a switch or matches.” The belated reply to her belittling observation about the fire sounded lame, even to him.

  She whipped her head back. The red curls and her green eyes looked enchanting backlit by the flame. She grinned, and, at that point, he knew she was every bit as bewitching as he’d first thought, but not at all helpless. “The power’s out, genius. Oh, and don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone you beat up on a girl.”

  Awkward. After all, what was she? He cocked his head and sized her up. Probably five foot eight, definitely slight of frame. Underneath that snowsuit he couldn’t imagine her being too big. Without thinking, he checked her left hand. Checked the finger that would matter. For some reason, he was disappointed that a band encircled it. “Sorry.” He meant it.

  She laughed, and this time it was rich and wonderful. He told himself to stop even thinking about her laugh.

  “Jim’s nephew.” She shook her head. “Wow. I mean, I knew you owned the place, but I … Jim said you weren’t the kind that would come. He said I’d probably have to communicate via email.” She grimaced and moved for a small closet off of the main doors. “Well, I have to go.” She tugged out a sleeping bag. “Power’s off. Here’s a sleeping bag. You’ll have to sleep on the floor in front of the fire tonight if you want to keep warm.” She tossed it at his feet and then paused.

  He couldn’t believe this. “What do you mean? Won’t the power come back on soon?”

  She took off toward the kitchen, waving him back with her. “Uh—don’t hold your breath.” She walked through the swivel kitchen door and he followed. She picked up a piece of paper off the table and shoved it at his chest, taking a match and lighting another lantern. “Good thing you’re here, here’s a list of all the stuff that needs to be fixed. You saved me having to email it to you.” She moved to the kitchen door and threw back a grin. “I’ll see you in the morning if you survive the night.”

  He couldn’t decide if he liked her or not. He rushed to the kitchen door and threw the door wide. “Hey, isn’t there a hotel or something?”

  She moved for a snowmobile, but turned back. “Maybe you should have come to the funeral and you could have met someone who might be willing to help you out.” Her cat-like eyes flashed wide.

  He jerked back, unprepared for the direct emotional hit.

  She slung her leg up and onto a snowmobile. “You are in a bed and breakfast.”

  He moved out onto the deck, ticked off, their eyes locked.

  She grinned and the rip roar of the snowmobile sounded into the air. She winked at him and Roman knew it was meant to taunt him.

  It worked. Anger flared inside him and he cursed. Turning back into the house, he shut the kitchen door, locked it and huffed back to the living room. Staring at the fire, he pushed open the sleeping bag, thinking that this sleeping bag was probably the same one he’d used all those years ago when his uncle had taken him camping. He rustled in his bag and found his phone charger, taking care to plug in the phone and hoping the power might come back on so it could get a charge.

  He laid back on the sleeping bag, staring at the fire and shook his head. “Well, Uncle Jim, I’m here.” He blinked. “But you’re not here to tell me one of your ghost stories.” His mind flashed, again, to the red head and the way she’d winked at him. He did not like her he decided.

  Getting up, he got into the bag and begrudgingly tugged it up into place around his head. He forced himself to take in deep breaths and try to relax. He would get some sleep and then meet with the attorney tomorrow and figure out how to get this place sold. Then he would get as far away from the Alaskan Inn as he could get.

  Get it FREE for a limited time HERE!

  Also by Taylor Hart

  The Last Play Series

  Last Play (Free for a limited time!)

  The Rookie

  Just Play

  A Player for Christmas

  Second String

  Bachelor Billionaire Series

  Almost Everything

  The Unfinished Groom

  The Barefoot Groom

  Snow Valley Series

  A Christmas in Snow Valley: The Christmas Eve Kiss

  Summer in Snow Valley: First Love

  Spring in Snow Valley: The Bet

  If you love Bachelor Billionaire Romances, you may enjoy Emerald Falls Romance Series….check out the first chapter of, Christine Kersey’s soon to be released, Sawyer and Amethyst…

  Sawyer and Amethyst: Emerald Falls Romance Book 2

  Chapter 1

  “Perfect,” Amethyst Fox murmured as she threaded the final moonstone onto the bar necklace. Leaning back in her chair, she let her gaze wander her studio—her favorite space in her house. Soft turquoise paint accented one wall, shelves with drawers and pouches containing all of her jewelry-making supplies adorned another, and a sparkly chandelier hung over it all.

  Pleased with her work that morning, Amethyst smiled. Though she still had a number of custom orders to complete—orders that had been commissioned online—plus over two dozen standard pieces that she’d promised the boutique in town, she wasn’t about to complain. Knowing she was fortunate to do what she loved for a living, she was glad to be busy.

  If only I had a busy love life.

  With a wry smile, she shook her head.

  Before my love life can become busy, I need to find someone I want to date. Like Gabby did.

  Picturing her good friend Gabriella Peters, who was now happily dating Travis Haywood, Amethyst’s smile grew. Pleased that she’d played a part—however small—in getting Gabby and Travis together, Amethyst consoled herself with the knowledge that people she cared for were now walking down the path to true love.

  You just need to live your life the best that you can. Don’t worry about finding true love. That will work itself out.

  The words she’d heard her mother speak more than once echoed in her head, and she wished she could call her mother and talk to her. But her mother had passed away two years earlier.

  Softly sighing, Amethyst decided to take a break and water the flowers in her front yard. A few minutes later, as she turned on the hose and began watering the colorful flowers that lined the front of her house, her gaze went to the house next door—the house that had stood vacant for the last few months. Now, however, there was a dark blue BMW parked in the driveway.

  Amethyst knew that the former owner—an older woman—had passed away several months before. Since then, she’d briefly met the woman’s son who had inherited the house.

  Is he back? Or maybe it’s a realtor getting ready to list the place.

  Keeping one eye on her flowers, Amethyst waited to see if the owner of the car would make an appearance. Curious to know what was going on, she finished watering the flowers and began pulling the few weeds that had grown since she’d last tended the flower bed. Still, no one came out of the neighboring house.

  With a smile of irony that she wanted an excuse to stay outside but for once had nothing left to accomplish, Amethyst stood and brushed off her jeans. At that moment, she heard the creak of a door opening. Turning her gaze to the neighboring house, she watched as a man with dark hair and the beginnings of a beard walked out the front door, locking it behind him. Lifting her hand to shade her eyes, she called, “Hello.”

  The man’s head jerked in her direction as if she’d startled him.

  Despite the distance, she guessed he was about her age, maybe a little older.

  Hmm. Pretty hot too. I wonder if he’s a realtor. I don’t think I’ve seen him around town though.

  He slid a pair of dark sunglasses over his eyes before he nodded in her d
irection, then he walked towards the car, climbed in, and drove away.

  A little put off by the man’s lack of friendliness, she lifted her eyebrows in disapproval before going back to her studio to continue working.

  ***

  Sawyer Cooke couldn’t help it. As he drove, his gaze shot to every car with a driver.

  What if they’ve found me? They’ll kill me. No question.

  Trying not to dwell on the situation he was in, he continued driving. The house his friend Paul was letting him stay in suited him fine, but he needed to get a few supplies. He’d left home in such a hurry that all he had were the items he’d been able to throw into a suitcase, plus his laptop. And though Paul’s house was furnished with his late mother’s belongings, there was no food in the place.

  As he drove to the large town nearest Emerald Falls to buy what he needed, he thought about the woman who apparently lived next door to his new home. From where he’d stood on his front porch, her red hair had been unmistakable and her smile had been open and inviting.

  That’s an invitation you’ll just have to pass up. Getting to know the neighbors will only lead to trouble.

  Sawyer frowned.

  It’s too bad. She was attractive. But it doesn’t matter anyway. She’s probably married or has a boyfriend.

  His frown deepened.

  Plus, the more people you meet in this little town, the more danger you might be putting yourself in.

  Pushing aside thoughts of the woman who’d greeted him, Sawyer focused on his errand.

  To read more of Christine Kersey click HERE!

  And don’t miss out on the latest release from Cami Checketts, The Protective One, part of her Billionaire Bride Pact Romances….keep reading for her first chapter…