From Friend to Fake Fiancé

by Jules Bennett

  Still, it was a topic they could and would discuss once they knew more details.

  “Does Ryker know?”

  “I’m calling him next,” Braden explained. “Just keep Jenna close until we know what we’re up against. This may be someone out to harm us physically or attack our business. Damn it, I hate being in the dark.”

  Mac swallowed. This was one of the reasons he’d hesitated letting Jenna in so deep. But he realized that having her close was the best place for her. It was the only way to ensure her safety.

  “I’ll be sure to stay on high alert. We just need to keep Ryker in the background for now. Even the scroll hunt needs to be suspended. If he discovered where they were and went in—”

  “Yeah. I know. I’ll make sure he understands the severity of the situation.”

  “Any other bad news?” Mac asked.

  “That’s it. But I want you to be watching everything in your offices. This timing reeks and I don’t believe in coincidences. We didn’t have an issue until we opted to open new branches and I’m wondering if there’s a plant in either the Miami or Atlanta location.”

  Mac came to his feet and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll have Laney look deeper into the new employees’ personal lives. I want texts, where they go on their time off, everything.”

  “Good idea.”

  Mac wondered if this would be too much to put on their sister, but she was just as strong and resilient as the rest of them...a point she often reminded them of. Still, she was their baby sister and they felt the need to shelter her.

  “I need to get ahold of Ryker.”

  Mac stood at his floor-to-ceiling office windows and stared out onto the city. “I’ll keep you posted if anything turns up.”

  Just as he disconnected the call, his office door flew open. Mac jerked in defense, but relaxed when he saw Jenna in the doorway loaded down with bags.

  “I did some damage,” she said as she breezed in. “Mom dropped me off on her way to the salon. I booked her an appointment and...what’s wrong?”

  She dumped the bags into the leather club chair by the door and crossed to him. “Mac?” she asked, her brows drawn in.

  He wrapped an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “Nothing.”

  Jenna pulled back, her hand on his chest. “We’re a team now, remember? If you can’t give me details, I understand, but don’t lie to my face.”

  “There’s been a threat to the family. I don’t know if it’s personal or business. I really have no details but I can tell you that you’re safe. I just need you to be vigilant when you’re not with me.”

  She studied his face. “I know you’ll protect me, but what about you? Who’s going to protect you?”

  “I’m fine.” He squeezed her tighter against him as he stared out the window. “Everything will be fine, Jenna. I swear to you.”

  And that was a promise he’d never break. Regardless of his family’s new direction, if anyone ever posed a threat to what belonged to Mac, he’d personally see to destroying that person with his bare hands.

  “You believe you’re safe, right? Promise me you’re not going to worry about this.”

  Jenna looked up into his eyes. “I’m not worried one bit. I know you wouldn’t lie to me about that.”

  “I love you, Jenna.”

  A smile spread across her face. “I love you. More than anything. Shall I lock the door and give you a sneak peek at what I purchased for our honeymoon?”

  Arousal slammed into him. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

  As he watched his fiancée close and lock the door, he knew he’d die before letting anything happen to her. This was the start of their life together and things may be rocky, but for now, having Jenna do some insanely erotic striptease in his office was all he needed. She was all he needed and they would face anything in the outside world together.

  * * * * *

  If you liked this novel, check out the first book in the MAFIA MOGULS series from Jules Bennett:

  TRAPPED WITH THE TYCOON

  And pick up these other emotional and sexy reads from Jules Bennett:

  BEHIND PALACE DOORS

  WHAT THE PRINCE WANTS

  A ROYAL AMNESIA SCANDAL

  WHEN OPPOSITES ATTRACT...

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  Keep reading for an excerpt from HIS SEDUCTION GAME PLAN by Katherine Garbera.

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  His Seduction Game Plan

  by Katherine Garbera

  One

  “Hello, sunshine.”

  Ferrin Gainer forced a smile at the man who most days barely recognized her. She’d never been close to her father. He’d lived for football and for the trophies he displayed proudly in their formal living room. Having a daughter had been a huge disappointment to him. Having one who flinched every time a football came flying through the air at her had been an embarrassment.

  She’d barely seen him after her parents divorced when she was ten. She was vaguely aware that two of his players—his honorary sons—had been accused of murder some ten years ago when she’d been fifteen. But even that hadn’t made him want to bond with her. In fact, it had only been two heart attacks and a severe stroke that had made him reach out to her.

  She was twenty-five and had hoped she’d be past the need for a bond with her father, but let’s face it, she wasn’t. She knew not all of her friends had good relationships with their families, but that was what she wanted for herself.

  She and her mom were close. They talked to each other every day. Her mom hadn’t been a huge fan of Ferrin taking a sabbatical from her teaching job at the University of Texas and coming to California to take care of her father, but had understood it.

  As a professor of psychology, Ferrin had put herself under the microscope a few times and what she saw...well, it made her mad. She should be able to move on but somehow she couldn’t. She didn’t want to accept the fact that this relationship was horribly broken.

  She would fix it.

  Dammit.

  “Hey
, Coach. How are ya feeling today?” she asked. When she was little she’d tried calling him Dad a time or two but he always insisted she call him Coach. Even before her parents divorced.

  “I’m okay,” he said, slurring his words. The last stroke had seemed to sap his will. There was something inside him that seemed to be keeping him from recovering. She wondered if not being able to work out and stay physically fit for the first time in his life was affecting him.

  She had no idea. He barely talked to her. She was tempted to leave him in the care of the two in-home nurses, but she didn’t want to be that kind of daughter.

  And she felt guilty.

  She knew if her mom were in the bed, well, Ferrin would be here no matter what. She owed at least as much to the man who’d given her half her DNA.

  “That’s good to hear. It’s a beautiful day today so after breakfast, we’re going out to sit in the garden.”

  “No.”

  She ignored him and went to the windows to open the drapes. Coach liked to keep the room dark; she’d thought at first maybe he had some light sensitivity from the stroke but his doctors informed her he didn’t. The only thing keeping him in the dark was his desire to hide. It was as if there was something emotional inside that was causing him to retreat from the world.

  She opened up one heavy drape and then the others. The Pacific Ocean was visible from Coach’s bedroom. The frothy surf contrasting with the deep blue water and the rolling waves promised relaxation. Something that had evaded her since the moment she’d arrived on the West Coast.

  “Leave them,” he said again, slurring his words.

  She hated hearing him like that. As estranged as their relationship had always been, she’d liked that her dad was strong. And he wasn’t anymore.

  “Just while you eat your breakfast. Joy is bringing it up and I’m going to eat with you. You know I don’t like eating in the dark.”

  Ferrin had found if she ate with her father then he finished most of his food. She suspected he ate so he didn’t have to talk to her, and she didn’t mind. The doctors said eating well and getting him out of the bed were the keys to his recovery. So she’d do whatever she had to.

  “Fine.”

  He sounded surly, which almost made her smile. At least he wasn’t pretending to sleep or ignoring her.

  “You received another letter from the school yesterday. They are honoring you—”

  “No.”

  “No?” she asked, pushing the button on the bed that raised the back. The college had refitted his room with state-of-the-art medical equipment after the first stroke. And they’d hired Joy, the housekeeper, as well as two in-home nurses.

  “I don’t want their guilt offering,” he said. His words were a lot clearer than they’d been earlier.

  She adjusted the sheets over his lap, reached for his empty breakfast tray and placed it on the bed. “It’s not guilt.”

  “How do you know?”

  She knew guilt. “They’re honoring you, Coach, because you brought a lot of accolades to the school.”

  And money.

  Winning meant money and her father had been one of the winningest coaches in the history of the college.

  “Where’s breakfast?” he asked, slurring again.

  She went to the hall and signaled Joy to bring in the food. Joy set everything up and then left.

  “I want you to think about accepting this honor,” Ferrin said as she ate her yogurt and fruit.

  Her father had a difficult time eating but would accept no assistance from her. It was something she’d learned the hard way. He was slow lifting his right hand to his mouth and he chewed awkwardly. The left side of his face still wasn’t fully functional. But he tried.

  “If I take it,” he said, looking up at her, his usually hazy green eyes almost clear, “then that means I’m not going back.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  He wasn’t going back. But maybe believing he could would help him recover.

  “I’m not sure it means that, but we can talk about it later,” she said.

  She should try to get some of his players to come up here and talk to him. That would cheer him up, and maybe hearing from the people he’d always wanted to spend time with would give her a key to understanding her father. A man who was still a stranger despite the past two weeks she’d spent living with him.

  The doorbell rang as Joy was helping clean up the trays.

  “I’ll get it,” Ferrin said, anxious to leave the doom of her father’s room.

  * * *

  Hunter Caruthers rolled up to the Carmel mansion in the middle of the afternoon. He’d spent the day in the dusty archive room at his alma mater, the University of Northern California, trying to find more evidence to clear his name in the murder of his college girlfriend ten years ago.

  All he’d found was that he hadn’t outgrown his dust allergy. Even though his mom had always said he would. He was the youngest son of five from a big old Texas ranching family. His parents loved God, cattle, family and football. Since he’d never really loved the land the way his brothers had, Hunter had started playing football.

  He’d found religion in football. He wasn’t trying to aggravate anyone—especially his mom—when he said that, but he saw the world through football. He got that if no one had his back and he was wide open, he’d get the pass and then probably have to face down two or three opposing players by himself. Or he might run like all the demons in hell were chasing him and make a touchdown—become the hero of the game.

  Same thing in life.

  Sometimes he had to be out in the open, exposed, to make the big plays. There had been one guy who always had his back. Kingsley Buchanan. King had never wavered. He’d always stood right by his side.

  They’d been arrested—and then later released—for a crime they didn’t commit and that had sealed the bond between them. Guys always wanted to talk to him about his trophy-winning college career, women wanted to sleep with him because—and he was quoting here—they thought he was “dangerous,” and no one wanted to really get too close to him because questions still remained.

  Who had killed Stacia Krushnik? What had Kingsley and Hunter done that night? And answers seemed to be getting harder and harder to come by.

  In ten years memories had faded and evidence already in short supply had disappeared.

  So that was why he’d parked his Bugatti in the circle drive of the one man who might have answers. The sun was bright—but hell, that was what living in California was all about. He’d been a bit of a hick when he’d first come here. The Pacific Ocean had awed him. Until then, he’d only ever been to the Gulf of Mexico and it didn’t hold a candle to the Pacific.

  Now he had a house on the beach in Malibu and when he wasn’t up here in Carmel chasing down the past, he spent a lot of time on his deck watching the ocean.

  He knocked on the door, pushing his sunglasses up on his head and scanning the area. The yard was nicely maintained, probably by a service. He’d never known anyone who really spent their time off working in their yard.

  The door opened and an air-conditioned breeze wafted out and surrounded him. He put a friendly smile on his face.

  “Hello, there,” he said. The woman who’d answered the door was tall—at least five-seven—and had long curly black hair that framed her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were a brilliant blue that was almost the color of the waves he’d surfed at dawn. She had a tentative smile on her face and her lips were full. She had a long neck and wore a thin summer-weight sweater over a pair of khaki-colored shorts that reached midthigh.

  Her legs...

  They were long, tan, slim. And he had an uncomfortable flash of them wrapped around his hips before he shook his head and stuck his hand out.

  He was here for answers, not a
woman.

  “Hunter Caruthers,” he said. “I used to play football for Coach Gainer and I wondered if he might have some time to chat with me.”

  “I’m Ferrin, Coach Gainer’s daughter,” she said. “Come inside and we can talk.”

  “Coach has a daughter?”

  “Yeah, he does. Be warned I’m nothing like him. Can’t catch, can’t throw, and it’s rumored I’m allergic to all sports.” She led him deeper into the house to a sunny kitchen.

  “All sports?”

  “As far as I can tell,” she said. There was a teasing note in her voice and the slightest bit of a twang that he recognized.

  As they passed the den he noticed a trophy case on one wall as well as photos of Coach Gainer with celebrities, politicians and famous alums. The one Coach had taken with Kingsley and Hunter was notably absent.

  “Can I get you a drink?” she asked as she gestured to the farmhouse table in the sunny breakfast nook.

  “Um... I’d like to just see Coach,” Hunter said.

  As cute as she was, Hunter was here on business and flirting with the coach’s daughter had dumb written all over it.

  “We have to talk first,” she said.

  “Lemonade talk or whiskey?”

  She gave him a smile. “Lemonade. What kind of conversations have you had that require whiskey?”

  He watched her as she went and filled two glasses with lemonade. “More than you want to know.”

  She handed him a glass and sat down across the table from him. “Coach had a stroke earlier this year and I’m not sure what he’d be able to say to you.”

  A stroke?

  “Is he okay?”

  “The doctors say he will be. I’m here to help him recover and get back on track, but he doesn’t like the medicine—never mind that. He has his good days and his bad days. I just don’t know if he will talk to you or not.”

  Well, hell. There were times when Hunter thought he was never going to have any peace about Stacia. Maybe that was fair. Maybe the universe was leveling things out because he hadn’t been able to protect her.