His Stolen Bride (Chicago Sons)

by Barbara Dunlop

  “Just doubled your tip,” said Tuck.

  Tammy laughed as she backed away. “Enjoy. Let me know if you need another round.”

  “I don’t need any romantic advice from you,” Jackson said to Tuck as he reached for a wing.

  “What’s your next move?”

  “She’s less than a week from leaving a man at the altar. I’m not going to crowd her.”

  Tuck looked skeptical. “You’ve got to be honest. You’ve got to be up front. Otherwise women can sometimes conjure up all kinds of wrong ideas.”

  “Just because you lucked out with Amber, that doesn’t make you an expert.”

  There was a smug smile on Tuck’s face at the mention of his new fiancée. “That wasn’t luck, my friend. That was skill, sophistication and—”

  “Honesty?” Jackson got the point of the lecture. But the situation with Crista had more than its fair share of complications.

  “I was going to say groveling. But let’s stick with honesty for a minute. Trust is the hardest part to win and the easiest to lose.”

  “There are things I can’t tell her.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the fact that her father sold her out to a criminal enterprise over a diamond mine.”

  Tuck raised his brow in obvious confusion. “You’re going to have to throw a few more details into that story.”

  “Years ago, her father put some diamond mine shares in her name. She doesn’t know she owns them, but her father told the Gerhards about them to settle a debt. Vern Gerhard is after the diamonds.”

  “The Gerhards need money?”

  “More like they want money. If they based their behavior on needs, they’d have stopped building their empire a long time ago.”

  “How many shares does she own?” asked Tuck.

  “Four.”

  “Four,” Tuck repeated, obviously looking for confirmation that he’d heard right.

  “Yes.”

  Tuck raised his palms in incredulity. “What can they do with four shares?”

  “It’s a privately held company. There are only ten shares in the world.”

  “She owns 40 percent of a diamond mine?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are there diamonds in it?”

  “I’m told there are.”

  “You have to tell her.”

  Jackson closed his eyes for a long second. “I know.”

  He’d spent the past few days telling himself there was a way around it. But there wasn’t. Jackson wanted Crista, and he wanted her safe. Gerhard might have walked away from a runaway bride. But he wouldn’t walk away from millions of dollars in diamonds and an outstanding debt.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  When Jackson’s lawyer Reginald Cooper had advised it would take several days to assess Cristal Creations and come up with a plan of action, Mac had suggested a spa getaway. Crista had vetoed the idea of leaving town again. She was tired of running from her problems.

  But Ellie had begged her to reconsider. She reminded Crista that they’d been talking about a girls’ getaway and how it would give her time to think. Then Jackson had added that the owner of the Gold Leaf Resort was a client of Rush Investigations, making the weekend practically free.

  With all three ganging up on her, Crista had finally relented.

  Now, lounging with Ellie in the outdoor mineral pool, she couldn’t say she was sorry. The breeze was strengthening and clouds were closing up in the sky, but the rock pool was deliciously warm. Lounging on a seat, sculpted into the smooth boulders, with a tall glass of iced tea beside her, Crista closed her eyes and emptied her mind.

  She felt more peaceful here than she had in days, and her brain had slowed down enough for her to picture her future. Maybe she’d find herself a new job. She probably would have to find a job, at least in the short term. Crista Creations was about to be dismantled. Without the Gerhards’ backing, the company couldn’t afford retail space. But without Crista, there’d be no more creations to sell.

  She knew her designs were the unique element of the company. Without her, Cristal Creations was just another jewelry retailer. And it was a very competitive market.

  She’d keep designing. But she’d pull back, retrench, rent booth space at a few jewelry fairs, work on her website and try to build up brand recognition. She’d make new pieces in the evenings, setting up in her kitchen like she’d done for so many months before Vern came along.

  She pictured the work space on the island counter, the dining table covered with supplies, her closets overflowing.

  Her eyes popped open. “Oh, no.”

  “Huh?” Ellie seemed to give herself a shake.

  “I can’t believe I forgot,” said Crista.

  “Forgot what?”

  “I canceled the lease on my suite. The movers are putting the furniture into storage next week.”

  “You’re homeless?” asked Ellie.

  “It’s almost impossible to find affordable rent.”

  “You can stay with me,” said Ellie. “The new sofa folds out. It’s really quite comfortable.”

  “That’s nice of you. But it’s not going to be that simple. I need to work from home again.”

  “Why not wait and see—” Ellie’s eyes widened, focusing on a spot behind her.

  “See what?” asked Crista, realizing she’d suddenly lost Ellie’s attention. She twisted her neck to look behind.

  A cloud partially blocked the sun, and she had to blink to adjust to the light.

  Then she saw him. It was Vern. He was pacing along the pathway toward them, and there was a smile on his face.

  “How did he find me?” She wasn’t exactly afraid, but she was annoyed.

  Ellie rose in a whoosh of water.

  Crista pushed to her feet, striving for a greater sense of control. She crossed her arms and pinned him with a level stare. “What are you doing here, Vern?”

  “I need to talk to you.” His tone was smooth, his expression open and friendly.

  He was wearing a business suit, but he bent down on one knee on the cobblestones at the edge of the pool. “I hate the way we left things, Crista.”

  She’d hated it, too, but it was entirely his fault, and there was no going back.

  She held her ground. “Go home, Vern.”

  “Not until you hear me out.”

  She firmly shook her head. There was nothing he could say to undo infidelity.

  “I know you’re upset,” he said.

  “Upset? You think I’m upset?” Try angry. Try incensed. Everything about their relationship had been a lie.

  “I can explain,” he said.

  “Explain a girlfriend?” Now that she was rolling, she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “You can explain having both a girlfriend and a fiancée at the same time? How exactly are you going to do that?”

  Ellie touched her arm. “Crista, don’t.”

  Crista struggled to calm down. She knew Ellie was right. She shouldn’t be challenging him. She shouldn’t be engaging with him at all.

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” he stated emphatically. “It was just a thing. One of those short-term, stupid things. I panicked. I knew I wanted to be with you for the rest of my life, but I panicked. I thought, well, I thought as long as it happened before the wedding—”

  “Stop!” Crista all but shouted. “Quit rationalizing. You cheated. And I doubt you regretted it at all. I think you were going to keep doing it.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It’s entirely true.” She was certain of it.

  “I love you, Crista. I want to share my life with you.”

  “You don’t love me. You can’t love someone and not want what’s best for them. You don’t w
ant what’s best for me. You want what’s best for you. And you’re willing to sacrifice me to get it.”

  “That’s the thing. I do want what’s best for you. And I’ve learned my lesson. I told myself it wouldn’t hurt you. If I thought for one minute it would have hurt you—”

  “Shut up,” Ellie interjected. “Just shut up, Vern. Leave her alone and go away.”

  Vern’s tone cooled as he looked at Ellie. “This is none of your business.”

  A clipped male voice interrupted. “Maybe not. But this conversation is over.”

  Jackson had appeared from nowhere.

  “How did you…” Crista found herself gaping at him in surprise.

  “Well, well, well,” said Vern, slowly rising and looking Jackson up and down.

  “Goodbye, Gerhard,” said Jackson. “Or do I have to call security?”

  “So you’re here with her,” said Vern.

  Jackson didn’t answer.

  “He’s not here with me,” said Crista. “He wasn’t here at all. Not until just now.”

  Vern shifted his gaze to Crista, clearly trying to decide if she was lying.

  She wasn’t. Then again, she didn’t really care what he thought.

  “You don’t owe him an explanation,” said Jackson. He took a menacing step toward Vern.

  “You want to do this?” Vern challenged, widening his stance.

  “She wants you gone,” said Jackson. “You can walk out or be carried out. It’s all the same to me.”

  Ellie grasped Crista’s arm. “Come on.” She tugged, urging Crista toward the glass-encased underwater staircase.

  Crista realized it was good advice. She had absolutely nothing left to say to Vern, and her presence was only going escalate the situation. She left the pool and walked briskly away, scooping up the towels and robes they’d left draped over a pair of deck chairs.

  Jackson caught up to them at the elevator.

  “He’s gone,” he said.

  “I’m beginning not to trust that.”

  The elevator arrived, its doors sliding open for them.

  “I don’t blame you,” said Jackson as they walked inside.

  “I’m going to hide in my room now.” At least there, people would have to knock.

  “You and I need to talk.” His expression was too serious for her peace of mind.

  “Can it wait?” she asked.

  “It’s important.”

  “You can drop me at the smoothie bar,” said Ellie, pressing the button for the third floor.

  Crista braced her hands on the rail behind her. “You know, I was happy in the mineral pool. All my cares and worries were flowing away.”

  “Five minutes,” he said. “Ten, tops.”

  “I don’t want any more bad news.”

  Before he could respond, the elevator stopped on three, and the doors slid open.

  “Mac’s around here somewhere,” he said to Ellie.

  Ellie’s expression brightened. “He is?”

  Jackson grinned at her telltale reaction.

  “Catch you in a while,” said Ellie, and she stepped briskly away.

  “She likes Mac,” said Crista, happy for her friend despite everything.

  “Mac likes her back,” said Jackson. “He’ll track her down in no time.”

  “Because he’s a skilled investigator,” Crista guessed.

  “Because she’s still got the GPS phone.”

  “You guys make me paranoid.”

  “It’s healthy to be paranoid.”

  Their eyes met as the elevator rose toward the presidential suite on the twentieth floor. His gaze was soft, and a rush of awareness heated her skin. She could fight it all she wanted, but he seemed more attractive every time she saw him.

  Exiting the elevator, the suite was at the far end of the hallway. A set of double oak doors led to a spacious set of rooms with a dramatic bay window overlooking the spa.

  She extracted the key card from her bag and swiped it through the reader. Jackson reached for the handle and held the door open wide.

  “Do you want to change?” he asked as they entered.

  She dropped her bag on an armchair and tightened the sash on her robe. “You wanted to talk?”

  “I did. I do.” He seemed to give himself a mental shake. “I really missed you.”

  She’d missed him too. And her feelings for him were getting more confused by the moment.

  He was an extraordinary man. He was sexy and self-assured in a rugged and dangerous way. But he was also classically handsome. In fact, he could probably be a model. She had a sudden vision of him in a pair of faded jeans, shirtless on a windswept beach. She wanted to tear off his shirt so that reality could mesh with her fantasy.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” his voice rumbled.

  “I’m not.”

  He eased forward. “You are such a liar.”

  It was true. She was lying to him, and she was lying to herself. She was looking at him exactly like that. She was completely attracted to him and completely turned on, and she couldn’t figure out why she was fighting it.

  “I’m sorry,” she offered.

  “For what?”

  “For lying.”

  He seemed to take a breath. Then he squeezed her hands, causing her hormones to surge to life, and she swayed toward him.

  He let go of her hands. Then he reached slowly up to cradle her cheek. He canted his head, easing his lips toward her.

  “Do you want this?” he asked.

  She was tired of lying. “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?” he persisted. “Because if we shut it down again, it might kill me.”

  It might kill her, too.

  In answer, she reached for the buttons on his shirt, flicking open one, then another and another.

  “I’m sure,” she whispered and stretched up to meet his lips.

  His reaction was immediate. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her deeply. She molded against him, feeling the strength of his body and the thud of his heart.

  He tugged at her sash, releasing the robe.

  “I’m soaking wet,” she warned. Her bathing suit was going to soak through his clothes.

  “I don’t care.” He stripped the robe from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

  Then he lifted her into his arms, her flip-flops falling beside her robe. “Which way?” he asked.

  She pointed to the bedroom door.

  He carried her through then closed the door firmly behind them, setting her bare feet on the thick carpet. The balcony door was partway open, a breeze billowing the sheers. Muted sounds from the pool area below rose into the room. The fan whirred, and dappled sunlight danced on the buttercream walls.

  He brushed back her damp hair, raking his fingers through the strands. She tugged free the hem of his shirt. Then she finished with the buttons, removing his shirt to reveal a close-up view of his broad shoulders and tanned muscular chest.

  “I was right,” she muttered under her breath, then she kissed his smooth pec.

  “Right about what?”

  She was surprised he’d heard. “About you.” She kissed him again, making a damp spot with her tongue.

  He gasped in a breath. “In a good way, I hope.”

  “In a good way,” she confirmed.

  He slipped off the strap of her bathing suit, kissing the tip of her shoulder. “I was right about you, too.” The vibrations of his deep voice penetrated her skin.

  It was becoming a struggle for her to talk. “In a good way?”

  “In a very good way.”

  He released the hook of her bathing suit top. It fell, and her cool, damp breasts tumbled free.

 
He stepped back to look, and his eyes turned the color of dark chocolate. Her nipples beaded and a bolt of arousal spiked through her.

  “Gorgeous,” he whispered with reverence.

  “Not so bad yourself.” She ran her fingers from his navel to his chest and across to his shoulders. He was satisfyingly solid over every inch.

  His hand closed on her breast, and his smile faded. He caught her lips again and wrapped his free arm around her waist to draw her close, her bare chest coming up against his.

  Their kisses seemed to last forever. She wanted them to last forever. The whole world could disappear for all she cared. She wanted this moment, these feelings, this bliss she’d found with Jackson to go on and on.

  Her knees began to weaken, and she could feel her muscles relax. He kicked off his shoes and popped the button on his pants.

  In a moment, they’d be naked. They’d be on the big bed, and their inevitable lovemaking would finally come to pass.

  “Protection?” she asked.

  “I have it.”

  She took a step, the backs of her knees pressing against the mattress. She gave him a sensual smile and hooked her thumbs into her bathing suit bottoms. Feeling sexy and powerful, and loving the molten expression in his eyes, she slowly peeled away the bottoms, stepping from them, standing naked in front of him.

  He didn’t move. His gaze went from the top of her head to the tips of her toes and back again.

  Her confidence faltered.

  But then he met her eyes. “I’m in awe.”

  “In a good way?” she joked.

  “You’re stunning. I’m afraid to touch you. If you’re another dream, I’m going to be bitterly disappointed.”

  Her confidence came back, and she smiled. “Another dream?”

  “I’ve had several dozen.” He moved closer, stepping out of his pants.

  “That’s good,” she told him.

  “It was terrible,” he countered. “They weren’t real, and they were wholly unsatisfying.”

  She wound her arms around his neck, coming up on her toes to kiss his mouth. “I’ll try to do better.”

  “This is better,” he said. “So much better.” And then he claimed her mouth.