A Chance at L.O.V.E.

by K. L. Myers

  A Chance at L.O.V.E.

  Bid on Love: Bachelor #4

  KL Myers

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Lost in L.O.V. (Book 1) Love At Last Series

  Prologue

  About the Author

  Connect with K.L. Myers on social media:

  Acknowledgments

  Other Books by K.L. Myers

  A Chance At L.O.V.E © 2018

  This is a work of fiction. Any characters, names, places, brands, media, and incidents are used solely in a fictitious nature based on the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to or mention of persons, place, organization or other incidents is coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted electronically or in print without the permission of the author. All rights are reserved.

  Prologue

  Female companionship was never anything I longed for. In fact, it was just the opposite. I’ve been blessed with genetic genes from the gods with looks and a smile that bring women to their knees in front of me. Literally.

  I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have a woman when I wanted one. They all knew the rules: Don’t get attached. If you get attached, you’re gone. Casual sex, that's all I’m willing to have. I won’t do the whole commitment thing; and no, it’s not because I come from a broken home or I’m afraid of love. It’s quite the opposite. My parents were high school sweethearts who have been married for over fifty years. See, that’s the problem; they’ve never been with anyone else. They were each other’s first, and they plan on being each other’s last. I just can’t grasp the whole idea of that. I know love exists, and I’m open to the idea of being loved and loving back, but it’s the settling thing that bothers me. How do you know you haven’t settled for something less than spectacular if you haven’t searched around?

  Growing up, I felt like my family settled on everything. Dad bought a house without discussing it with Mom. She didn’t like it, but she settled because it was what Dad wanted. Mom wanted a minivan when she was hauling all us kids around; Dad refused to drive one. So, they settled on a sport utility vehicle that had the functionality of a minivan but was stylish enough for a businessman to be seen in. Even my schooling was a settlement. Mom said homeschool; Dad said private school. Where did I end up? Public school. My whole life has been one settlement after another. The only time I can honestly say my parents didn’t settle was the day I was born.

  My parents settled on everything except for my name. I guess that was the one time in my parents’ lives that they refused to negotiate, and so I ended up with two middle names. Mom was insistent on naming me after her father, Vincent; he was a well-respected rear admiral in the Navy before he retired and ran for senate. My dad was equally adamant that I should bear his father, Oliver’s, name, since Oliver built the largest shipbuilding company on the east coast from the ground up. Hence, I have two middle names, Oliver and Vincent, after my grandfathers. I officially became Lincoln Oliver Vincent Eastwick on the day I was born. My parents even thought it was humorous that my initials spelled out LOVE. Sometimes I swear they had no idea what that would do to a teenage boy.

  Now, getting back to settling down. Like I said earlier, how do I know I’m not missing out on something better if I settle for one person? That’s the point, right? Settling. That’s what you do when you pick one person to spend the rest of your life with. I’m a firm believer in not settling. I want different. Better, actually. The best.

  I don’t pick simple items like a basic GMC or Ford. No, it’s not because they aren’t nice cars; it’s because I’m settling for something when I can afford better. That’s why I own a Bugatti. It’s not that I need it, but it’s one of the best, and who doesn’t want the best? Same goes for my clothes; my suits are all tailor-made, one of a kind. Anyone can buy an Armani or even a Brioni if you have the money, but once again, you’re settling. Everything I wear, all the way down to my watch and shoes, is custom. Does this make me an arrogant prick? Some would say yes, but they don’t know me. I’m not arrogant; in fact, I’m the opposite. Deep down I’m compassionate, caring, and loyal, but only my closest friends and family know that. Can I be ruthless? Of course, I can. My securities firm, Eastwick Capital, is well known for being ruthless. I specialize in risk arbitrage and options trading. In other words, I’m a corporate raider. I buy up companies in distress, then tear them apart and either make them better or sell them off piece by piece. I’m the Carl Icahn of the twenty-first century. If the name doesn’t ring a bell with you, let me just say Trans World Airlines, aka TWA. He is the reason they are no longer in business. He single-handedly bought up the failing airline, stripped it apart, and walked away with four hundred and fifty million dollars in his pocket when the dust settled. Alright, still confused? I’m the Richard Gere in the Pretty Woman movie minus the prostitute. So, compassion is the last thing anyone would ever associate with me, which is why I was surprised to hear from Nadine Marx.

  Nadine Marx, a local human interest reporter. She is organizing a masked charity event next week. This charity event is to raise money for Healing Heroes, a cause I wholeheartedly support. Nadine did a story recently on Healing Heroes and the veterans who had been provided with service dogs specially trained by them. See, Healing Heroes is a non-profit that trains rescue dogs from shelters to be service assistance dogs for veterans with PTSD. The concept is phenomenal. After all, what a way to give back to those who gave so much for us? That’s one thing my grandfather ingrained into me, to always do whatever is necessary to ensure those who gave us our freedom are always provided for.

  My grandfather comes from a long lineage of military officers, so I donate millions of dollars a year to various veteran nonprofits; it’s the least I can to do to thank those who were willing to put their lives in danger so that mine is safe and I can do whatever I want to do. Plus, it makes my granddad proud. When Nadine approached me months ago to partake in the event, it was my compassionate side that got me into the mess I’m in right now. Why is it a mess, you ask? Well, I have no idea about planning a date; I’ve never really had to plan one. Usually, I just smile, wink, and say a few pretty words, and there is always a willing partner to satisfy my needs. Now, all I have to do is provide one night, a date night that any woman would die for, and I have no idea what that will be. The thought of women bidding on me and my date package piques my interest, and truth be told, I’m a bit excited that each bachelor is masked, making it virtually impossible for the bidders to know who we are. I consider it a bit of a competition to see how much money I can raise without anyone knowing who I am. Normally, just the words ‘Lincoln Oliver Vincent Eastwick’ have people dropping money on anything I tell them to. Not this time. The anonymity challenges me to provide something worth bidding on. So, challenge accepted. The money raised will help Healing Heroes, so I’ve been racking my brain to put together something that is off the charts worth every penny one lucky woman will spend, yet I keep falling short. If I can’t come up with some
thing on my own, I’ll have to ask for help. I cringe at the thought of settling for someone else's idea.

  Chapter One

  LINCOLN

  Norfolk, Virginia, is my home away from home. I have a satellite office here because this is where I was born and raised. If I am honest, I prefer it to my New York location. Yes, New York is the face of my company and where the majority of my employees are located, but Norfolk is where I call home. I spend my weekends and holidays here. The remainder of the time I bounce back and forth between New York and London. You can’t conquer the global market if you aren’t global, right?

  Spring in Norfolk is incredible. The weather is changing from the cold winter to the hot summer, so May is the perfect time to enjoy yourself before all the tourists start to arrive. It’s actually my favorite time of year here, which is why I bought a house on the water surrounded by trees with a yard large enough for all my nieces and nephews to come and play in.

  I’ve been home for less than twenty-four hours, and already my home has become family central. You would think that my family hasn’t seen me in years, not just weeks. Don’t get me wrong, though. I love my family more than anything, but having your two sisters and their seven kids running around can make a guy kind of crazy when all I want is to enjoy some quiet time while I plan out my date night.

  Everyone has an opinion on what I should do for the charity event. Bethany, my youngest sister, thinks that movie night at the Mermaid is an awesome date night. Me, not so much. Yes, the Mermaid Winery offers a movie night at their location. You show up, and they provide the big screen and everything to go with it. Dinner, wine, etc. All you have to do is select the movie. Of course, Bethany’s idea includes watching The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks.

  “Bethany, though I love your enthusiasm, The Notebook is not the tempo that I want on a date night.” I think about how I want to express my next thought. “Yes, it’s a romantic chick flick that I’m sure some woman would love, but I do not want to send off romantic vibes on this date. Fuck-me vibes? Yes. But not romantic. I’m not the bachelor looking for a wife. Got it?”

  “Love,”— it’s the nickname she has always called me by—“you are such a pig, I swear. Not every date has to end in sex, you know.”

  “All my dates end in sex, Bethany. Now, can we get off this topic, please?” Bethany starts to open her mouth, but I raise my hand to her face, giving her the universal signal to shut the fuck up, then quickly exit the living room and head to my study.

  Caroline, my oldest sister, yells down the hall at me, “Cook the girl dinner, Linc. You’re an awesome cook.” I shake my head at the thought. The last thing I want is to have a strange woman know where I live and rummage around in my personal space. Call me a prick, but I’ve never had a woman who wasn’t related to me in my Virginia home. Yes, I’ve fucked many women in my New York penthouse, but I don’t consider that home. It’s just a place I sleep when I’m in the city.

  The water ripples across the shoreline as the leaves on the trees sway with the wind, sending the softest howling sound through the open window I sit staring out. The solitude clears my mind as I envision what a woman would like for her date night. Since my face will be masked, the only thing setting me apart from the competition will by my date package, so it’s got to be something every woman would kill for.

  “Love.” The sound of my youngest sister’s voice echoes down the hall. “Is Peanut back there with you?” Peanut is my youngest nephew.

  I look around my study just to make sure he hasn’t snuck in while I was zoning out. Peanut has a tendency to hide when he is upset about something, or when it’s time to take his medicine, and his stealth ninja skills works in his favor when he’s sneaking around.

  I’m about to tell my sister I haven’t seen him when I catch the tip of a tiny shoe sticking out from behind an old trunk in the corner. “Peanut, your mom’s looking for you.” His little foot pulls back behind the trunk, and he doesn’t answer. “I know you’re in here, Peanut. I saw your foot. Now, come out from behind the trunk.”

  Peanut crawls forward, peeking his head out the opposite end of the trunk. “Shhh, Uncle Wuv, don’t tell Mommy I in here.”

  I shake my head at the fact that he calls me Uncle Love. That damn sister of mine calling me Love instead of Lincoln has caused people to confuse us as boyfriend and girlfriend growing up, or husband and wife more recently. Now her son is following in her footsteps.

  “Peanut, why are you hiding in here? Did something upset you?”

  He crawls a little closer to me. “Mommy wanna give me medwicin. I no take it.”

  I reach down to pull my adorable little nephew into my lap. “Buddy, you know you have to take your medicine.” He wiggles in my lap trying to escape, but I hold him tighter. “You want to grow up big and strong like me, right?” His little head moves up and down. “Then you have to take your medicine.”

  “Mommy say it make my heart strong, but I aweady strong. I no need it.”

  I kiss the top of his head as I stand and swing him over my shoulder. “You take your medicine, buddy, and I’ll take you out for ice cream. Fair enough?”

  I call out to Bethany as I walk down the hall toward the sounds of my mother and Caroline’s voices. Caroline is married to a navy admiral, and they have six children. I joke with her all the time about being a baby factory even though I know she hates the comments. She got pregnant just after college with triplet boys, then a set of twin boys the second time, and just a year ago, she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Steven is proud of his swimmers and calls them champs since there is no history of twins or triplets in his family or ours. The thought of having that many kids scares the shit out of me. When I round the corner, I see that they are sitting out on the veranda watching the boys play. Bethany is standing by the door asking my mom and sister if they’ve seen Peanut.

  “Here he is,” I call out, Peanut laughing as I toss him in the air and catch him before handing him to his mom. “I promised him if he took his pills that I’d take him out for ice cream.”

  Peanut giggles and squeals, “Yep, Mommy, Uncle Wuv promis me.”

  Peanut is small for his age. He suffers from a ventricular septal defect. He was born with a small hole in the septum that separates the lower chambers of the heart. He’s been seeing a pediatric cardiologist since the day he was born, and up until last year, there had been no change. Last year, however, Bethany noticed Peanut started having more and more days when he would become tired quickly. His breathing became more rapid, and he started losing weight. His doctor immediately became concerned and decided that Peanut should be seen every three months instead of once a year. During his last visit, it was discovered that the hole had grown, causing a need for surgery to repair the issue before it gets worse. Peanut’s doctor provided Bethany with a list of surgeons to choose from.

  If I’m honest with myself, I’m totally freaked out by this. I’ll never let anyone in my family know because I’m the rock that holds us all together. Bethany has always looked to me for strength and support. When her deadbeat of a husband left her after Peanut was born, I was there to pick up the pieces. It seems Peanut’s sperm donor/dad wasn’t ready to deal with a son with severe health issues and washed his hands of my sister and their boy. It took me a few months to find him, but when I did, I gave him the beating of a lifetime and a check for five hundred thousand dollars to sign away his rights to Peanut and agree to sign the divorce papers Bethany was trying to serve on him. The fuckhead showed up at my attorney's office the next day with a black eye and a broken arm, signed on the dotted line, and walked out the door with no claim to anything that belongs to my sister or our family. Later that day, I set up a trust fund for ten million dollars for Bethany and Peanut. Enough for them to never want for anything, and that Bethany wouldn’t have to work a day of her life. Her priority in life starting then was to provide a happy, healthy, and loving environment for the both of them.

  Chapter Two

 
; LINCOLN

  “Bethany, the car is here. Are you and Peanut ready to go?” Today, I get to meet Peanut’s cardiologist to go over the plans for his surgery. Frankly, I’d rather be anywhere other than here discussing the one thing that could wreck my world. Mom stayed with Caroline’s kids, so she could join us for moral support.

  “Really, Lincoln, a limo just to get us to the cardiologist’s office?” Caroline shakes her head at me. She’s the only one in the family who has an issue with my lifestyle. “I don’t understand why you couldn’t just drive us.”

  “Because the last thing I want to do after this appointment is to drive a car while Bethany needs me to comfort her.” I look at my baby sister and see the compassion in her eyes for my comment. When I look at Caroline, her face is pale, indicating that she now understands why I’ve called for a driver today. I reach over and squeeze Bethany’s hand. “You know it’s all going to be alright, don’t you?” Bethany ignores me as she leans into the limo to strap Peanut into his car seat. I smile as I watch her, wondering how many limos have a built-in car seat. Another purchase I made for Bethany after Peanut was born.

  “What’s be alright, Uncle Wuv?” Peanut questions and tilts his head down, looking at the clamp that holds him tightly in his car seat. He fiddles with the clasp but isn’t strong enough to push it down. “I no need tis, Mommy. I big. Tis for babies.” Peanut fusses the whole ride to the doctor's office about having to sit in his car seat. Bethany tries to placate him while I get lost in my own head about what I’ll do if the news isn’t good.