Billionaire Games Boxed Set (The Marriage Bargain, The Marriage Caper, The Marriage Fix)

by Edwards, Sandra

  “Lecie de Laurent,” she said, in near perfect English, but her gaze held firm with Nick’s. He couldn’t place her accent, maybe a cross between French and English, if that’s possible. One thing was certain though, she looked nervous as hell.

  “Somebody want to start from the beginning and tell me what’s going on?” Nick asked.

  “It’s simple,” Dean said. “You need money. She has money. She wants to give some to you.” He looked at Lecie. “Two hundred and fifty grand, you said, right?” He waited until she nodded, then he looked back at Nick. “All you gotta do is marry her for six months. She’ll pay as soon as you say, ‘I do.’”

  “What?” Nick blurted out.

  “Oh, there is just one other thing…” she said with hardly any confidence at all. “You’ll have to live in my house for the duration of the marriage.” She shrugged. “Immigration and all.”

  “What?” Nick said again, his voice even more strained than the first time.

  “It’s the answer to your prayers, man.” Dean nodded. “You can solve all your problems with two little words.” Dean stood there looking at Nick like he’d discovered electricity or something.

  Nick folded his arms over his chest, cut his eyes at Dean and said, “Shut up.”

  “Just two.” Dean wiggled two fingers in the air. “Two little words.”

  “I’m not joking,” Nick said.

  “Say it with me.” Dean nodded, then said with pronounced enunciation, “I do.”

  Dean’s big mouth egging this girl on wasn’t helping. Nick grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door. “You need to get out. Now.” He shoved him out into the restaurant’s dining room.

  “Don’t blow it,” Dean said just above his breath. “This girl is the answer to your prayers.”

  Or my worst nightmare. Nick took the time to close the door slowly, just to give the last few minutes time to really sink in. Once the door was shut he had no choice but to turn around to face her.

  The poor girl was standing there stunningly gorgeous, and looking completely unsure about the proposal Dean had laid down between them.

  But there was something in her brilliant blue eyes. Something vulnerable and hopeless and sad. She looked about as desperate for a husband, albeit a fake one, as Nick was for money—the real stuff.

  And Nick had to wonder why?

  Lecie looked at Nick, wondering what in God’s name had happened. Where was Ginny and why weren’t they married? She wanted to ask but couldn’t find the courage.

  “Look, I know I’m asking a lot.” Her fear shredded her words. “But I need help and I’m willing to pay for it.”

  “You mentioned immigration,” he said.

  She nodded, hesitated, striving to find the right words. “My father is trying to force me to come home.”

  “You father can have you deported?”

  She nodded.

  “You haven’t committed a crime, have you?” he asked cautiously.

  She sucked in a breath. “My only crime is defying Papa.”

  “Miss de Laurent,” he said her name, mangling it with a decidedly American pronunciation. “You want to sit down?” He gestured toward the chairs in front of his desk.

  “Sure.” She sat and he did the same. Right across from her. “Call me Lecie.”

  “All right,” he said. “If you’ll call me Nick.”

  She smiled, feeling the heat crawling up her neck. “Look, I understand if you want to turn me down. Your fiancée wouldn’t understand at all.”

  “Well, I don’t have a fiancée anymore,” he said. “And I really wish I could help you out. Lord knows you could help me.” He shook his head, like he was trying to convince himself of something. But of what, she wasn’t sure.

  “We could help each other,” she said hopefully.

  “We could.” Then he smiled a sad sort of smile. “But I couldn’t in good conscience take money from you like that.” He shook his head. “It just wouldn’t be right.”

  “There’s nothing dishonorable about being hired to provide a service.” Even as she said it, she knew it wouldn’t do a bit of good. Nick Matthews was one of those upstanding types, she could tell. He’d never use a woman, and he’d never want to be portrayed as having done so.

  Nick opened the office door and escorted Lecie out into the restaurant. He rested his hand on the small of her back, her blonde hair caressing the back of his hand as he guided her to her table where the other women waited anxiously.

  He almost felt bad about turning her down, but something inside him said it wasn’t right to take money from her.

  “I hope we’ll continue to see you here at Hang Ten,” he said to her with a smile.

  She looked at him as if she wanted to say something, make one more bid for her case. But she didn’t. She didn’t say anything. She just gave a smile that filled his heart with hope and looked at her friends and gave them an it’s a no-go kind of shrug.

  Nick pushed himself to walk away, to let her save face. It wasn’t every day that a girl as beautiful as her got turned down when two-hundred and fifty grand was part of the deal.

  He headed back to the table where only Dean remained. Ken and Jerod probably had to get back to work. Nick totally understood that.

  “So…?” Dean asked as Nick sat down.

  He was surprised that Dean even had to ask. “I turned her down.”

  “Are you crazy?” Dean grilled Nick.

  “I may be crazy,” Nick defended his actions. “But I’m not a cad.”

  “You’re an idiot, is what you are.”

  “I’m not taking that girl’s money,” Nick argued. “It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Why not? She’s trying to buy a husband. And if anybody ever needed to be bought, it’s you.” Dean shook his head and shot Nick a frown. “This girl gave you a solution and you threw it back in her face.”

  “Well, it’s not quite as bad as all that.”

  Lecie and her friends filed out of the booth and headed for the door. The bombshell took the long way around so she could pass by the guys’ table. She stopped long enough to place a card on the table in front of Nick. “If you change your mind…” she said, but didn’t wait for a response from him. As she disappeared outside, Nick picked up the card, looked at it. It had her name and a cell phone number on it. Nick stuffed it into the glass of the unlit candle sitting in the center of the table.

  Dean fished it out, looked at it and stuck it in his pocket. “Are you nuts?”

  Nick shook his head and laughed. “As pretty as she is. As enticing as a quarter of a mil is…it’s a bad idea.”

  “I only have one thing to say to you…” Dean’s voice trailed off.

  When he didn’t finish his statement, Nick asked, “What’s that?”

  “How are you gonna like working for somebody else?”

  The one thing that Dean wasn’t saying, but Nick knew full well was on his mind…what was going to happen to the community center when Nick sold the Hang Ten to the foundation?

  Would they continue to champion Nick’s cause? Nick didn’t have to ask. He already knew the answer to that, which made turning down Lecie de Laurent’s two-hundred-and-fifty thousand dollar proposition that much harder.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  DEAN PROPPED HIS HANDS on the outer edge of Nick’s desk, leaned in toward him and asked, “Have you signed the papers yet?” He wore a look that bordered on terror, which was about how Nick felt.

  The foundation’s offer was looking less and less attractive by the minute. Who knew the very organization that’d indirectly provided him with the means to build Hang Ten—through his inheritance from Walter—would turn around and try to steal it out from him the minute he got into a bind. A bind that was not of his own doing.

  Their fair market offer, as it turned out, was anything but. He’d come out of the deal with scarcely enough cash to pay off the suppliers, the bank fees, and the line of credit. Forget about his savings. His annual salary
was adequate, although not fantastic, but it was progressive, dependent upon inflation. He could, however, live in the loft above the restaurant free of charge. And the community center would receive a three thousand dollar a month stipend for as long as Nick worked at Hang Ten. That was less than Nick had been providing, but he was lucky to get anything for the center in the deal.

  In some weird way, it did help to know he could have the job for as long as he wanted, provided the restaurant turned an annual profit, but it also felt like a ball and chain. Because of the community center, he’d have a hard time moving on.

  But this was the price Nick was going to have to pay if he wanted Kevin’s legacy to live on. And that was the important thing to Nick right now—saving the center. It was all he had left.

  “No.” Nick hadn’t signed those papers. He hadn’t even been able to utter a verbal agreement. He might already have lost Hang Ten, but he just couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. “I haven’t signed the papers.” He sucked in a breath. “I know I have to, but I can’t keep putting it off.” He let out a helpless shrug. “The suppliers are going to stop making deliveries if I don’t do something soon.”

  “Don’t do it.” Dean’s expression insisted, right along with his words. “Not this deal. Not with the foundation.”

  “Why not?”

  “You were only gonna do it because they agreed to help the community center.” Dean’s shoulders slumped, and he looked away, defeated. “The community center is as good as dead.”

  “Look, I know three grand a month is hardly enough to keep it running, but we’ll find aid somewhere else.”

  Dean shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Juno Properties is selling the land the center sits on.”

  Selling the land? Nick’s heart pounded against his chest. “How much?”

  Dean said, “We have forty-five days to come up with eight hundred grand. After that, it’s going on the market for 1.2 million.”

  At that precise moment, Nick knew what it felt like to have your world fall completely apart. Eight hundred grand. It might as well be 1.2 million because Nick couldn’t come up with either.

  “Damn it!” Nick knocked that stupid fat cat off his desk that Ginny had bought him. The crystal paperweight hit the floor with a loud crash and fractured in to pieces. What the hell? Were all the forces in the universe lining up against him to take him down—permanently?

  Nick leaned back in his chair and looked around the office. He sure had some shitty-ass luck. Everything in this office was going to belong, very soon, to someone else. There was no way he could take the foundation’s offer now. No point.

  “You know what you have to do, don’t you?” Dean asked, still leaning across Nick’s desk.

  “Yeah.” Nick nodded “I have to put Hang Ten on the market. Sell her to the highest bidder,” he said in a voice that was quickly losing power. “After paying off my debts, maybe I’ll have enough left over to go start a little café in some obscure little town or something.”

  “No, no, no…” Dean shook his head. “You’re gonna call that chick. The rich one.” He looked Nick straight in the eye. “You’re gonna accept her offer. After that, we’ll figure out a way to save the community center. We’ve got forty-five days.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  GERARD BROUGHT A PITCHER OF iced tea and four glasses out to the terrace just outside the living room. Lecie, Deidra, Camille, and Tasha were enjoying the afternoon watching the children.

  They’d bought a little kiddie pool at a shop not far from Lecie’s house, brought it home and filled it up with about eight inches of water. It had a slide on one side and a dragon that spewed water on the other. Juliana and James were having a grand time with their new toy.

  Gerard set the tray on the table and began pouring tea into the glasses. “Lois,” he said of the cook he’d insisted on hiring, “asked me to inquire about dinner this evening. Will you all be dining in, or will it just be the children and the nanny again?”

  Dinner? The thought hadn’t even crossed Lecie’s mind, nor had any of the others talked about it. Her eyes traveled around the group and then back to Gerard. “Tell Lois that we’ll be dining in this evening.” She looked back at her guests. “Six-thirty sound okay?”

  “Perfect,” Camille said. “But let’s feed the children a little earlier. Say five?”

  Lecie looked back at Gerard. “There you have it.”

  He tipped his chin and backed away. He was so formal. Even though she was used to that sort of thing, she still found it amusing having her very own, do-everything-by-the-book butler.

  “I really don’t know why I need this guy,” she said. “Or Lois for that matter.”

  “I think it’s a good idea to have Gerard here,” Camille said. “Especially once you get married. I mean, we can only assume that our judgment is good in our quest to find you a husband.” She shrugged. “But when it comes down to it, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

  Lecie hadn’t thought of that. The man she married would have to live in her house for as long as the marriage lasted. It would have been so much easier if Nick Matthews or Dean Triplett had agreed to this charade. At least she felt like she knew them, even if she didn’t. Not really. But, at the end of the day, she thought she would’ve been safe with either of them.

  “Point taken,” Lecie said. “But how am I supposed to find someone acceptable?” She watched the children in the pool just so she wouldn’t have to look Tasha and Camille in the eye. If they looked into her eyes, they might see the insecure idiot hiding behind them. “I don’t want every weirdo in the state knocking on my door because of a quarter of a million dollars.”

  “We could always try dating sites,” Tasha piped up.

  “That’s a disaster waiting to happen.” Camille laughed.

  “Maybe we should just try a good, old-fashioned “help wanted” ad?” Tasha nodded eagerly.

  Lecie’s belief that this idiotic plan could work deflated. If her prospective husband was looking for a job, that meant he didn’t have one. If he didn’t have a job, he’d be here. All day. With her. She didn’t like that idea any more than going back home with Camille and Tasha next week.

  “This is not going to work,” Deidra said, confirming Lecie’s fears.

  “She’d better pray otherwise.” Tasha snorted.

  And Lecie knew, just like everybody else on the terrace, that if it didn’t work, she’d be on the next flight back to France.

  Lecie let out a long sigh, her shoulders drooping, and dropped her head into her hand. Still cradling her forehead, she looked at the others and said, “Why can’t my father just let me live my life?”

  None of the adults said anything for at least ten seconds, then all three of Lecie’s companions burst into laughter at the same time.

  “So…what’s it going to be?” Tasha asked. “A help wanted ad or a dating service?” Her cell phone chimed, interrupting the groaning that was making its way up Lecie’s throat. Tasha grabbed her phone off the table, checked the display and frowned, but answered the call anyway. “Tasha de Laurent,” she said her name eloquently with her American-influenced French accent.

  Lecie and Deidra, and even Camille—even though she said it the same way—chuckled over Tasha’s enunciation. Thankfully, de Laurent was about the only thing that’d ever come out of Camille and Tasha’s mouths with them trying to sound French.

  “Yes, it is.” Seconds later Tasha waved her hands in the air at Lecie and pointed to the phone.

  Lecie gave her a one-sided shrug that oftentimes accompanied the unspoken inquiry. What?

  “Why, hell yes, she wants to talk to you!” Tasha said, a little too giddy to suit Lecie.

  Lecie mouthed the words, who is that?

  Tasha ignored her, and said into the phone, “Can you come by the house?” She waited, listening. “Sure, that’s fine. Come around six. We’re having dinner at six-thirty.” More listening, then Tasha laughed. “Nonsense. We’d love to hav
e you. Believe me, it’s no intrusion.” More listening, then Tasha snapped her fingers at Lecie, saying, “what’s the address here?”

  Lecie rattled it off and Tasha relayed it to the caller, then ended the call with an eager, “We’ll see you about six.” After disconnecting the call, she looked at Lecie with an oversized grin.

  “Who was that?” Lecie asked in a sharp tone.

  “That…” Tasha said, quirking an eyebrow and smiling. “Was Prince Charming.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  NICK HADN’T ADEQUATELY PREPARED HIMSELF for what he’d walked into at this house for the ultra-rich that just so happened to be located less than a mile from Hang Ten.

  Dinner had been awkward—although Dean would’ve enjoyed being the only man at a table with four beautiful women—but Nick couldn’t seem to find his comfort zone, knowing that one of these women practically held his future in her hands.

  The sisters-in-law had encouraged Nick and Lecie to take their dessert on the terrace, where they could discuss the fine points of their proposed arrangement in private.

  Stepping through the opening for the sliding glass door, the sun had not yet set but its glare had been masked by the weeping willow and palm trees at the back of the yard. This late spring evening held an unusual chill in the air.

  Lecie sat down on the terrace’s sofa, so Nick took the chair to her right. Close enough to talk without yelling, but still far enough away that they could both avoid a crowded feeling.

  She drew her arms up against her sides and shivered. Nick asked, “Are you cold?”

  “It’s a little chilly,” she said. She was trying not to smile, he could tell, but even so, a slight grin had begun to break on the corners of her mouth.

  He glanced at the fire pit, then back to her. “Would you like me to build a fire?” he asked. She looked like she was about ready to run for the hills. Nick didn’t want that. “It won’t take long, and I promise I won’t overstay my welcome.”