by Jean Oram
Accidentally Married
Jean Oram
Contents
From the Back Cover
A Note from the Author
Acknowledgments
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
Epilogue
Sneak Peek from The Marriage Pledge
More Books by Jean Oram
About the Author
Accidentally Married
Book 4 (Veils and Vows)
By Jean Oram
* * *
© 2018 Jean Oram
All rights reserved
First Edition
ISBN: 978-1-928198-36-9
Cover created by Jean Oram
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book, even when purchased, remains the copyrighted property of the author, and it cannot be reproduced, modified, copied and/or distributed by any means for commercial or non-commercial purposes whether the work is attributed or not, unless written permission has been granted by the author, with the exception of brief quotations for use in a review of this work. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to purchase their own copy from their favorite online store where they can also discover other works by this author as this ebook edition is not intended for sharing or resale. Thank you for your support.
All characters and events appearing in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, alive or dead, as well as any resemblance to events is coincidental and, truly, a little bit cool.
0619
From the Back Cover
Accidents happen. So does marriage.
Struggling businessman Burke Carver can’t get Jill Armstrong out of his mind. She’s smart and intriguing, and a year ago they had a fun night at a conference—a night he can’t fully recall. With his company’s profits starting to slide, he knows he doesn’t have time for a relationship but he’s still tempted to look her up…
Only he won’t have to.
Jill Armstrong needs to talk to the handsome and brilliant CEO, Burke Carver. A year ago he made it clear he was happy to date her for an evening but not partner their businesses. Well, it seems they partnered more than they’d planned on because her bank just approved her latest business expansion loan—all because of her husband Burke’s stellar credit rating.
The problem is, neither of them remember their wedding but there’s a marriage certificate on file that has them and their business assets linked. Can these accidental “newlyweds” find a way to band together and strengthen their companies or will they miss out on the happily ever after fate may have tossed their way?
Want more Veils and Vows? Check out Jean’s newsletter at www.jeanoram.com/FREEBOOK and her full book list at www.jeanoram.com/books.
A Note from the Author
While I was dreaming up this series the idea of someone getting married accidentally and not recalling it captured my imagination (and made me laugh). And, for me, the idea of finding love in an unexpected place is equally appealing as I believe that’s the beauty of love—you never know where and when it will happen, and with whom.
I had a lot of fun writing Burke and Jill’s unexpected love story and I hope you enjoy it as well.
Happy reading,
Jean Oram
Alberta, Canada 2018
Acknowledgments
Thank you to everyone who helped with this book from my wonderful and generous Beta Sisters (Donna Wolz, Margaret Cambridge, Sharon Sanders, Sarah Albertson, and Jude C.) to my editors (Tessa Shapcott and Margaret Carney) and proofreaders (Erin and Emily). You’re all amazing. Thank you for helping Jill and Burke’s story become even better.
1
Jill Armstrong swiped a damp hand down her skirt and took a deep breath. She pulled on the glass door to the building’s workout room. Locked.
Another roadblock in her plan. She should just go home. Pretend she’d never found out about the document in her hand. Pretend she’d never come here to try and tell Burke Carver.
A skinny security guard approached Jill from the other side of the locked door and frowned at her attire—heels and a skirt. No visitor badge.
Burke, who she could see on a treadmill about thirty feet beyond the door, would surely notice if the security guard tossed her out.
Stick to the plan and there would be no disasters. That’s the way life worked. She’d fallen to the siren call of spontaneity last April and now look. Disaster.
Jill made an unlocking motion with her hand, and the security guard raised his pale eyebrows. He made a sweeping motion, indicating that if she wanted in, she needed an access card. She repeated her motion. The man’s shoulders moved as though he was heaving a tremendous sigh over her stubbornness.
She rattled the door. “Let me in.”
The security guard cracked it a few inches. “You need an access card to enter.”
“I’m here to see Burke Carver.” Jill pressed a hand against the door’s cool glass, stepping forward.
A few weeks ago she had been delighted when the bank finally approved her latest application for a business loan—until she realized why. It had had everything to do with Burke Carver, the man who’d refused to consider a partnership with her small company a mere ten months ago.
Jill held the large manila envelope against her chest and surreptitiously wiped a palm against her skirt once again. She had a pretty good feeling Burke would remember her, but she wasn’t as certain he’d recall the way their few drinks in the conference hotel bar had culminated in the disaster currently tucked inside her envelope. Although it was possible he recalled more than she did. But if he had, they surely would have had this upcoming talk almost a year ago.
She was confident he was going to believe she’d been playing him. And even worse, she’d gained weight in the past few months and no longer had the slim build he tended to gravitate toward and he… No, it didn’t matter what he thought. She just needed him to do his part to make their little problem go away. Quickly.
“No access card, no admittance,” the guard said nervously.
“Trust me,” she replied, tone firm. “He’ll want to see me, and he will have your head if he learns I came all this way only to be sent home.” It was only two hours from her hometown of Blueberry Springs to the city of Dakota, but it wasn’t that often that she made the trek.
The man slowly stepped away from the door and Jill smiled curtly while pushing past. The workout room smelled of disinfectant, warm bodies and machines, reminding her of the hours she’d spent in the basement workout area with her father as a teen. Her twin sister, meanwhile, had spent her time upstairs with their mother learning how to curl hair and apply makeup.
Across the workout area, Burke was still on the treadmill, his body moving in a fluid, captivating way. His calf muscles rippled as they propelled him forward on the machine, his hair flopping as he landed before pushing off again, moving at a pace that would surely leave most people winded.
Jill strode over, trying to ignore how her reflection was following her across the room in the long panel of mirrors to her right.
Burke was laughing with a woman on the neighboring elliptical machine. She barely had an ounce of body fat, her hair was
in a perfect, smooth ponytail, her makeup not at all impacted by her workout…because she wasn’t even sweating.
How was that possible? Then again, Jill had once looked like that—and her twin sister still did, as she hadn’t gained the same ten pounds Jill had over the past few months. Okay, fifteen after an ice cream binge.
“Burke?” His name came out sharply, and he turned, eyes narrowed. His even, powerful stride faltered. He quickly regained his rhythm, legs pumping.
“We need to talk,” Jill said.
His open expression had changed, shadowing his face. This was where he said no. “Make an appointment.”
Frustration and anger pounded inside Jill and she reached over to slap the treadmill’s emergency stop. The machine came to a quick halt.
“I said we need to talk.”
His gaze traveled to her gut and she instinctively sucked in. Less than a year ago they’d shared a million laughs, dinner, drinks, his room. And more, according to the document she was holding. But she was not a new mom looking for her partner to pay up.
Burke’s gaze had flicked to the security guard, who was standing behind Jill. She shot the nervous man a dirty look and he backed up a step, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“You’ll want to see this,” Jill said, as Burke restarted the machine.
“I’m not taking proposals right now.” He was just about up to his previous pace again. “Excuse me, I’m working out.”
“Fine.” Jill moved to the vacant treadmill on the far side of Burke and used it for support as she shucked off her heels. She stepped onto the machine, placing her envelope in the magazine holder.
“What are you doing?” Burke asked.
“Joining you.”
He stared at her while she started the machine.
This was such a horrible idea. Absolutely horrible. She’d been too busy to work out much over the past year and she was going to be sweaty and panting within thirty seconds. Not to mention what she was about to do to her sister’s borrowed pantyhose.
“Here,” Burke stated. “Wearing that? Just so you can speak to me?” There was a twinkle of something in his eyes. Reluctant respect for her moxie, perhaps? He had reacted to that in the past—and she’d found that powerfully heady.
“Yes,” she said primly. The machine was going too fast and she had to jog to get her feet back under her as she worked to control the speed. “If your secretary was a bit more helpful…” She paused to suck in a breath. “I could have made an appointment—” she exhaled “—where we could discuss this in an office like civilized adults.”
Oh, man. She was already panting.
“So your stalkerish harassment isn’t a coincidence?” he said, his tone dry.
“There’s no such thing as coincidence.” Coincidences were like a Trojan horse. They looked like a gift to get you to let your guard down, then they led to nothing but disasters. Plans were the only things you should trust.
Burke stopped his machine and flicked a white towel over his shoulder. He was watching her again, his gaze back on her belly.
“Let’s talk somewhere more private.” He gave the woman he’d been chatting with earlier a nod, then without a word began walking away. Jill scrambled to follow, hustling to reclaim her abandoned heels.
Burke was moving swiftly through the maze of clanking weight machines and she caught up just as he opened a stairwell door.
As the door closed behind her, he turned, arms crossed. The concrete landing suddenly felt too small, too closed in.
“Hi,” she said breathlessly. His gaze was traveling over her slowly, noting changes, perhaps. “I didn’t have a baby, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
He shot her a sharp look. He turned, walking up the flight of stairs, his hands clenched around each end of his towel. “Tell your friend Emma Carrington I said hello. You can also tell her my decision hasn’t changed since last year, despite her recommendation.”
Emma had set up the meeting between them at the conference, her name opening the door for Jill, who ran a small botanical business. She’d been hoping to partner with Burke’s large online store that specialized in eco-friendly clothing. Jill had hoped he’d agree to feature her products as add-on items.
She had been small potatoes, according to him. She got that, she did. But he hadn’t even looked at her growth plan.
She lowered her voice. “I’m here about something else. Something more…personal.”
Burke turned to face her and she swallowed, feeling suddenly as though the enclosed stairwell was way too warm. His look had intensified, bringing out his handsomeness. The sharp lines of his jaw strengthened; his dark brown eyes turned practically black. Without a word he began taking the stairs upward, two at a time. She took her time following him, trying to prevent her heart from blasting out of her chest. She’d needed a week to summon the courage to come here, and she’d only done so because she knew it would be worse in the long run if she didn’t.
One floor up, Burke held open the massive door to his company offices, letting her pass. Then he led her through a large open area dotted with thriving potted plants and streaming with natural light that filtered through the large offices that were glassed in along the outer walls. No flickering fluorescent lights, just sunshine and the odd soft LED floor lamp to brighten a sitting area or work area. Desks speckled the edges of the space, Jill noted, with several offices off to the left and right, and one large one straight ahead. Just about everyone looked up with a smile, ready to wave, until they caught their boss’s expression.
Wordlessly, Burke strode into the large office, saying over his shoulder, “Close the door.”
He sat in a bamboo executive chair with worn cushions and faced her, fingers pressed in a steeple like he was about to give thanks, his eyes boring through her with that familiar intensity.
Jill took the chair across from him and nervously handed him the envelope. Nothing but the whir of his computer fan filled the silence as he looked at the vital records document.
As he skimmed it, she braced herself for what would surely be an explosion.
Married.
He was married? To Jill Armstrong.
No, he would most certainly remember that.
“Is this your idea of a joke?” Burke rose from his desk, his mind running through the possible implications of the marriage certificate being valid. None of them were good. He was betting that if this was real there wasn’t a prenuptial agreement.
He’d fought for this company through one divorce and won. He wasn’t going to lose it now.
He placed his hands on his desk and leaned forward, snapping, “Is it?”
Across the desk, Jill’s eyes were wide, her head mutely shaking back and forth.
He tried to rein in his rage, but found control was out of reach. He swept a hand down his face, collecting sweat from his workout. He had a meeting with a potential, much-needed financial backer in fifteen minutes. He’d planned to finish his run, shower, and arrive fresh with a clear mind.
Not…this.
He had trusted Jill. She was smart, strong, and he’d been certain she understood what he was willing and able to offer, and that she was not in need of anything more. He’d always been careful, choosing women who were happy to stand on their own two feet and didn’t want or need a relationship or text the next day. Women who only wanted him to help burn off their stress.
No strings. No commitments.
And no flipping marriage. Didn’t she know the rules?
No, she was playing an entirely different game. He hadn’t partnered his business with hers last April, so she’d gotten him drunk and married him. Now she was here to claim her marital assets.
Man, he was a fool. He’d admired the way she hadn’t taken the rejection of her business proposal personally, and he’d even considered looking her up since then. The night after her pitch they’d accidentally ended up sharing a few shots of tequila in the conference hotel bar, in the middle of a wedding party
that was taking place around them, luring them to join in with the celebrations.
He’d woken up the next morning with a massive headache, his memory full of blanks, and an empty bed. After a few months of silence, he’d assumed everything was cool.
Obviously, it wasn’t.
Something huge had gone down during that blank spot in his memory. Something bigger than waking up to find a puzzling, one-inch-long comma tattooed to the inside of his right wrist.
But now he wasn’t so sure she hadn’t taken things personally that night. She’d found a way to partner with him, after all. Why, though, had she waited this long to tell him? What trap had she laid in order to take advantage of him?
And married? How on earth had she convinced him to say those two little words of marital agreement that he never planned on uttering again for as long as he lived? He’d proved he wasn’t capable of marriage and all that went with it, and he wasn’t the kind of man who needed to learn his lessons more than once.
“I’ve already looked into an annulment,” she said quietly, ignoring his outburst.
His mind stopped.
Annulment? She wanted to pretend this had never happened?
“Good,” he said, easing back in his chair. “You know, I remember every night of my life except that one.” He cleared his throat and sat forward again. “But what matters is how we fix this—quickly and quietly. How do we get this marriage considered invalid?”