Tempted by the Tycoon's Proposal

by Rachael Stewart

  ‘You know next time Lily asks for a birthday party at home,’ he grumbled in Sophia’s ear, ‘I’m going to suggest Iceland all over again...maybe even the North Pole. I bet it’s super-quiet this time of year with Santa on holiday.’

  ‘You said that last year.’

  ‘Yes, well, I clearly forgot what a terrible idea this was. At least Noah only had a handful of friends at his...’ He looked over the many, many heads in the room. ‘I’m sure she’s invited every child she’s ever met, plus her entire class at school.’

  Sophia merely smiled. ‘She’s making up for lost time, and don’t forget, you did agree to her having thirty.’

  ‘Thirty! I’m sure I didn’t.’

  She looked up at him. ‘You were a little distracted at the time.’

  Eddie chose that moment to gurgle in his mother’s arms and Sophia gently bobbed him up and down.

  ‘Now I remember, Lily asked me the day we came home with this little bundle.’

  ‘Yes, she’s not daft, that one.’

  ‘No, but her dad clearly is.’

  Sophia laughed as the doorbell sounded. ‘Oh, that’ll be Isla and the family. You go and get it and I’ll pass Eddie to Mum.’

  ‘Oh, no, you won’t,’ Samantha said, coming up beside them. ‘Your mum has filled her cuddle quota; it’s my turn.’

  ‘Are you getting broody again?’ Sophia grinned at her friend as she eased Eddie into her arms.

  ‘Good heavens, no. I like to cuddle and go. It’s always best when you can hand them back.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ Jack said, wincing as a high-pitched squeal bounced off the walls of their Georgian dining room.

  ‘Jack!’

  ‘I’m just kidding, love.’

  ‘Get the door before they scarper at the racket. It’s time to get some games going before things get out of hand.’

  ‘Out of hand?’ he said, his brows raised as his eyes swept over the room. ‘I think it’s a bit late for that.’

  She elbowed him. ‘Quit the ribbing and get the door. Musical chairs will have them contained and entertained in one.’

  ‘Musical what?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  ‘You do know how much those chairs cost, don’t you?’

  ‘Almost as much as it cost to have the room renovated, yes. Just relax, Jack, live a little.’

  ‘I’ll relax when we have our house to ourselves again.’

  But in truth he wore the silliest of grins, because life couldn’t be better. He had a happy daughter, a healthy son, a wife he adored and an extended family he’d never thought possible.

  He made for the door and halted, swinging back to pull his wife into his arms. ‘I love you, Mrs McGregor.’

  Her eyes shone up at him. ‘And I love you too...even when you’re a grump.’

  ‘Ouch.’

  ‘Now, go and get Isla before they run—or, worse, freeze on our doorstep.’

  He did as she bade, answering the door to Elena’s mum, husband and three children. There would always be a part of him that bore regrets. The biggest one of all that Elena never got to be reunited with Isla, not properly.

  But in his heart he knew she’d be happy for what their daughter now had. The one thing they’d grown up wanting and always thought unreachable.

  A real family, full of love, and a place to call home.

  * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Wedding Date with the Billionaire by Andrea Bolter.

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  Wedding Date with the Billionaire

  by Andrea Bolter

  CHAPTER ONE

  “LADIES.” KENTO YAMAMOTO stood on the boat dock and bowed his head to one then the other of the overly perfumed females who had just flanked him, a blonde on one side and a brunette on the other.

  “How are you, Kento?” the blonde asked in a high-pitched tone.

  “We’ve missed you,” cooed the brunette.

  He’d met the two years ago but, for the life of him, couldn’t remember their names. It was hard to fathom that they’d missed him when he barely knew who they were.

  “Isn’t it exciting, Christy and Lucas’s wedding?” The brunette stated the obvious. “And you’re going to be the best man!”

  “You came all the way from Tokyo to stand up for Lucas,” the blonde chimed in, as if he was unaware of where he lived. “You’re such a good friend!”

  “Yeah, he’s lucky to have a good friend like you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah.”

  Kento responded with a tight-lipped smile, already done with this superficial chitchat. He’d been about to board the small private yacht he’d chartered for the ride across Seattle’s Puget Sound to Willminson Island for the wedding weekend of his oldest friend. Then the two bubbly girls, friends of the bride’s, if he recalled correctly, recognized him and came clamoring toward him, clomping down the wooden dock on their high heels even in Seattle’s misty weather.

  “We were just about to take the state ferry.” The brunette pointed to the next dock over, where the enormous vessel that transported tourists and residents the quick half hour to the island was loading. “And then MacKenzie spotted you, so we came running over to say hi.”

  Aha. The blonde’s name was MacKenzie. One down.

  “Amber said we just had to!”

  “Had to.” MacKenzie giggled.

  Blonde, MacKenzie. Brunette was Amber. Noted. Kento didn’t wonder why they just had to rush over to say hi. It wasn’t because they were actually old friends gathering to celebrate the nuptials of two of their inner circle. No, it was because women like these two were professional money sniffers and had no doubt heard that Kento Yamamoto, the Seattle-born Japanese American billionaire who made his fortune in Tokyo, would be in attendance.

  “How have you been?” MacKenzie asked through her awful bright orange lipstick.

  “What’s Japan like?” came Amber’s probe with a sweep of her hair, as if there was a one-sentence answer to that question.

  Kento knew their type. He’d encountered them all over the world.

  As was usual for the breed, they were pretty. In a calculated way. They were both tall and statuesque and wore nylon windbreakers, one bloodred and the other as brash an orange as her lipstick, as if to be properly protected for the weather. But their jackets might have been a child’s size, so snugly did they fit against their torsos. Surely there was no shield from the elements when those coverings were worn unzipped so low that Kento could make out the color of each of their bras. Jeans skimmed their long legs down to the spike-heeled boots that looked ready to catch in between the wooden planks of the boat dock.

  Both had hair styled to perfection, which was almost pointless if someone was to spend any amount of time outdoors in Seattle. As if to illustrate the point, the mist in the air had turned to rain in the few minutes since they had been chatting, as often happened in the Pacific Northwest. They both wore heavy makeup, and individual raindrops began sticking to their false eyelashes, creating little bubbles.

  “Mr. Yamamoto, ready when you are, sir.” The yacht’s captain appeared with his announcement.

  Having just flown in on his private jet from Tokyo, Kento had a couple more legs to his long journey—a boat ride to the Willminson Island harbor and then a limo to the luxury lodge that had been reserved for the destination wedding. He’d spent most of the flight working and was tired, looking forward to a little rest before the numerous events of the extended weekend began to unfold. Plus, he’d learned that once a person was running a multibillion-yen software develo
pment empire, there was no such thing as a total escape and he’d be supervising operations from afar over the weekend. So he was ready to board and let the captain set off.

  “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me. I’ll no doubt see you at the welcome reception tonight.”

  The smiles that had been glued onto their faces both dropped in unison. He didn’t know what they were expecting, but their expressions read disappointed. They’d wanted something from him. Just as the rain turned heavy and a downpour began.

  Cripes, Kento thought. He couldn’t shoo them away and send them teetering in the rain with their heels and wheeled suitcases all the way over to the other dock to take the public ferry. He’d have to give them a ride.

  “Come onto my boat. I’ll take you,” he said, stretching an arm out to help the first one of them onto the deck. They both grabbed hold of him at the same time.

  “Thanks, Kento!” one exclaimed and clumsily hoisted herself on. He became part of a tangle of outstretched hands and luggage handles while the rain whipped around, so he didn’t notice which of them had thanked him.

  “You’re a hero,” came the other’s voice.

  “Our knight in shining armor.”

  It was going to be an endless ride across the Sound if they continued with their sucking-up routines. Did men actually fall for that sort of thing? Not men like him, he affirmed. When just about every human encounter of his formative years had been a verdict on what his financial and social standings were and weren’t, Kento had developed a healthy skepticism for people’s motivations in wanting to get close to him.

  In fact, he’d soon be face-to-face with some of the very people who had ingrained that distrust into him, who’d seared it into him like a hot iron’s brand that he still wore like a tattoo. An attitude that he was proud of at this point. While the upcoming weekend was meant to send Lucas and Christy into what would hopefully be a lifetime of wedded bliss, Kento had some less idyllic business of his own to take care of.

  After he ushered the two women into the shelter of the boat’s cabin, Kento returned to the open air of the stern as it pulled away from the dock. He would no doubt get soaked, but he didn’t care. From his vantage point at the back of the yacht, he kept his eyes fixed on the mainland as they pulled away, the sights of the Seattle skyline that he hadn’t taken in for years. The Ferris wheel. The renowned food stalls of Pike Place Market. The office skyscrapers. There were the mountains in the distance, dwarfed by Mount Rainier, the tallest in Washington, the stratovolcano that hadn’t erupted since the late 1800s.

  Kento felt a special nostalgia to once again see the most famous of the city’s landmarks, the six-hundred-foot-tall Space Needle observation tower that instantly identified Seattle. As it had since its construction for the 1962 World’s Fair, the structure with its flying saucer design watched over the storied city with a parent’s caring eye.

  Seattle used to be home. It was where he’d grown up and gone to university. After his software design corporation, NIRE, continued to grow and grow, Kento moved his parents to Japan to be with him. His sister now lived in Connecticut, so he no longer had cause to return. Breathing in the wet mist of the Sound, he was reminded that there was nowhere quite like Seattle, the Emerald City, so named for the year-round greenery in and around the metropolis.

  It was a city filled with memories for Kento, some good, some not so. In particular, there was one recollection that he needed to bring into the present so that he could put it in the past. A remembrance with dusty blond hair the color of pure sand and eyes so light a brown they were almost transparent. With skin that smelled like sweet cream. The scent that still lingered in his nose, all these years later.

  “I hear you and Erin Barclay used to date,” MacKenzie blurted after Kento returned to the cabin and instructed the first mate to serve him and his guests a quick coffee for the short journey.

  Kento looked her in the eyes but, really, peered right through her. “We did,” he answered barely above a whisper. “A long, long time ago.”

  “And now you’re best man and maid of honor at the wedding. That is so cute.” Amber’s voice entered from his side.

  “Is it?” Kento raked his fingers through his thick, now soaked hair.

  Of course, he’d been honored when his oldest friend asked him to stand beside him as he said his vows to his bride. Especially as the two men no longer saw much of each other. Kento had accepted, though not without trepidation, predicting that Christy would tap her cousin Erin to be the maid of honor. It had been seven years since he’d seen Erin and zero days that he hadn’t thought about her. As maid of honor and best man, he knew there’d be expectations that the two would spend a lot of time together, giving speeches, dancing for photographers and fostering a general camaraderie among the wedding party throughout the activities of the weekend.

  As he’d thought about it over and over again sitting in his luxury penthouse overlooking kinetic, buzzy Tokyo, Kento began to believe that returning to Seattle for the wedding was perfect for the reckoning that he so desperately needed. Maybe that time spent working closely together would help him finally exorcise Erin from his brain and his soul. Hopefully, he could break free from the hold that his memories still had on him. “Cute.” He hypnotically repeated Amber’s stupid comment.

  “I hope you’ll save a dance for me,” MacKenzie chirped. “We’re bridesmaids, you know.”

  “Do you want to sit together at the welcome dinner tonight?” Amber asked. Kento found the question annoyingly pushy and didn’t respond.

  Luckily, neither of them wanted to leave the cabin to go with him to the boat’s bow as they neared the island’s shoreline. Lush fir trees appeared to cover every inch of earth, tall, full and close together, creating a dense forest. It was an unspoiled and pristine spot that would make for an unforgettable wedding.

  Kento felt the tiniest kick of sadness in his gut.

  When his boat docked in the harbor, he helped Amber and MacKenzie disembark, refusing their offer that he join them. The public ferry arrived at the same time, delivering other wedding attendees. He recognized a few, scrutinizing the group and looking for that familiar sandy hair but not seeing it.

  A covered walkway had been erected to shelter guests from the ferry dock as they loaded into the van that would shuttle them to the lodge. Amber and MacKenzie joined the group. A waiter was there to greet everyone with a tray of champagne in flutes. Continuing to observe the scene from afar, Kento could hear MacKenzie’s shrill giggle.

  There was a banner hung to welcome their party. It read, Christy and Lucas. Forever Begins Now.

  Kento knew that transportation from the harbor to the lodge had been prearranged. But he’d booked his own, guessing that he wouldn’t want to be part of the festivities until he’d settled in. He waited for the van full of wedding guests to leave. A second, empty van pulled into position for the arrivals from the next ferry. The waiter set more flutes on his tray and filled them with bubbly.

  Only then, in the solitude, did Kento make his way up the gangplank and slip into the black limo that awaited him.

  * * *

  “Did you hear? Harris Denby drained her bank accounts before he vanished.”

  Erin Barclay entered the lounge adjacent to the lobby of the upscale Locklear Lodge on Willminson Island, where her cousin Christy was marrying longtime boyfriend Lucas. Erin had arrived just in time to overhear a group of wedding guests talking about her.

  “Where did his parents finally track him down?”

  “Partying in Greece with some European actresses.”

  “He just left Erin? Without a word?”

  She turned away from their view so that she could listen in without yet being spotted.

  “What kind of man does that?”

  “The kind who lives off his trust fund with nothing expected of him and too much time on his hands. Apparently, his o
wn family’s wealth wasn’t enough. He went after Barclay wealth.”

  “The passed-down-from-generations, too-much-to-even-count kind of money.” A few high-pitched giggles erupted. “Our favorite kind of people.”

  Bridesmaids and daddy’s little rich girls Amber Dutton and MacKenzie VanBurton seemed to know an awful lot about her. They were friends of Christy’s that Erin had socialized with a few times over the years. The two stood in a cluster with the three groomsmen, who listened dutifully to the girls as they all sipped something warm-looking from heavy brown mugs.

  Was this how the weekend was going to go? Erin wondered, with gossip swirling about her being freshly dumped by Harris T. Denby III? Who had left her at the town house they’d shared in Spokane, where her parents had created a job for her at one of their offices there. Harris had simply disappeared in the middle of one night. Once he was located and word got out, the media that followed high society jumped on the story and, thereby, made sure that everyone Erin knew had heard about it.

  “Christy said she never trusted Harris from the beginning,” MacKenzie prattled on.

  “Not from the start,” Amber echoed.

  Erin knew that Christy must have been defending her by telling them that she had never liked Harris. If only she had heeded that warning!

  Subtly peering around the lounge, she was still trying to avoid being noticed just yet. The lodge was as rustic glam as she’d remembered when she accompanied Christy and Aunt Olivia to tour it as a possible wedding venue. Everything was done in the finest materials. A fire in the huge stone hearth gave the room a comfortable warmth and smell. Thick rugs covered large areas of the tiled floor. Overstuffed leather furniture and tree-trunk tables were arranged into clusters. Paintings of nature, featuring flora and fauna native to the area, decorated the walls. A buffet table held a selection of coffees and teas as well as small sandwiches, fruit and cookies, all artfully displayed on raised platters.