I held up my hand. “I understand.”
“Good. Now, I hear you don’t cook, but if you really want to impress Tucker, you have to learn to make my chocolate chip cookies. So, go get the flour out of my pantry.”
My life was day after day of happiness and joy. Even the bleakness and cold of winter didn’t get me down with Tucker there to light up the day and heat up the night.
Finally, spring was in the air. The bitter cold was gone and flowers were starting to bloom. Tucker and I continued to help Sinclair with her campaign, with the elections just around the corner. I figured once she was in office, I could go back to the library project, although perhaps I’d stay more in the background in case there were any lingering concerns about my behavior with Mrs. Reynolds.
Tucker and I were door knocking out in the rural areas of Salvation to campaign for Sinclair. It was a good way for him to learn more about Salvation, the people, and its history since many of the rural folks’ families had been there forever.
The campaign was going well. While the town knew I’d pretended to be married to build the library, it also knew that Stark had brought Rick back to play with my heart in an effort to distract me from helping Sinclair. It was a nutty plan, but then Stark was a nutty guy. I figured we were about even.
The polls showed Sinclair with a slight lead over Wallace, but she wasn’t one to sit back on her laurels, so we were all going full force in her campaign. The good news was most of the people we met in the rural areas were for her. They remembered how she’d gone to bat for them to save their land from being bought up below value and turned into a prison by Stark.
We’d finished up at the Collier farm and were back in Tucker’s car heading down the highway.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “Because I’m starving.”
I checked my watch. It was just after noon. “I wouldn’t mind eating.”
He drove a little longer, then took a left at one of the places boats could put in at the river. He parked in the little lot, and then got out.
“This is pretty,” I said getting out on my side.
“It is.” He went to the trunk, opening it up, he pulled out a blanket and a cooler.
“What’s this?” I asked, grinning like a loon as I often did at his surprises and generosity.
“It’s a picnic.” He leaned over and kissed my nose. Then he took my hand and led me to an area near an oak tree. He unfurled the blanket and helped me sit. Then he opened the cooler and pulled out a lunch of fancy bread and cheese, fruit and wine.
“It’s very cosmopolitan,” I said, popping a grape in my mouth.
We ate and listened to the flow of the river and birds, their eggs having recently hatched so we could hear the chirping of the baby birds.
“Are you happy, Holly?”
I jerked my gaze to him surprised by the question. “Yes. Very. The happiest I’ve ever been. I need to do better in letting you know that if you have to ask me.” Then I had a moment of panic. “Are you happy?”
“Yes, baby,” he said in that way he did when he was slightly annoyed at my worry. He pulled me to him, nestling me between his legs, my back against his chest as he leaned against the tree.
“I’ll be honest, when Brooke said I should move to Nebraska, I wasn’t so sure about it. I figured what the hell. You only live once, right?”
“Right.” I tilted my head up and kissed his chin.
“While I didn’t expect it to be bad, I had no idea just how good it would be. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, and that’s because of you, Holly.”
Warmth filled my body. Love flowed through my blood. “Me too.”
“No one will ever make me happier than you.”
I closed my eyes letting his words wrap around me. “You make me so happy, Tucker.”
His hand held mine. I looked down as he slipped a beautiful diamond ring on my finger. I gasped and turned around in his arms.
“Tucker.” I pressed the hand with the ring over his heart.
He put his hand over mine. “Marry me, Holly.”
Tears filled my eyes. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” I grabbed his face and pulled him to me for a fierce kiss, sealing the deal.
He laughed and pushed me back on the blanket. “You’re easy.”
I laughed back. “Did you want me to hesitate? Think about it?”
“No. I wanted you to want to marry me.”
I pushed back a lock of his hair that fell into his face. “I do want to marry you.”
“And have my babies.”
My heart jumped. My dream was coming true. “And have our babies.”
He grinned. “Did I tell you twins run in my family?”
“You mentioned it.”
“I was going to use it as a way to sweeten the deal if you were sitting on the fence.”
“You’re all I need, Tucker.”
“Good to know.” He kissed me again. “Still…I was thinking that if we got married soon, when school started in the fall, we could begin baby making project number one—”
“Number one?” I arched a brow.
“Well, a kid needs a sibling and if the twin thing doesn’t work, we’ll need to have a couple of projects, don’t you think?”
I laughed. “I love the way you think.”
“So, back to my thinking. If we start in the fall, then by the time school lets out next summer, Holly Junior could be here and we’d have the whole summer to enjoy her.”
“What if it’s a boy?”
He feigned thinking. “Holly is a weird name for a boy, but…I don’t mind being a trendsetter.”
I laughed again. “I like your plans, Tucker.” I’d be thirty-eight then, but I was in good health so it should be okay.
“The other option is to start operation baby on the honeymoon,” he said. “You might have to take time off school though.”
I liked that idea too. “What if we let nature decide?”
His eyes flashed with heat. “You mean go without protection and let happen whatever is going to happen?”
I nodded.
“Holly, whatever you want, is what I want.”
I remembered saying the same thing to him the night I asked him to give me another chance. I suspect that was partly why we worked so well together. The both of us were highly focused on loving the other, and wanting them to be happy.
“Should we start now?” he said, grinding his hips into mine.
“I’m still on the pill.”
“We can practice. At the very least, we need to consummate this engagement, and what a more beautiful place and time than in spring by the river.”
“I’ve never made love outside,” I said, knowing he liked it when he was introducing me to something new in our sex life.
“Oh God…that is a tragedy. Let me take care of that for you, baby.” His smile was wide and wicked, and I felt like the luckiest woman in the world.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Tucker.”
“Baby, you’ll never have to find out.” He sealed that promise with his kiss.
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Book Five - Accidental Daddy
Prologue
Erica (Leslie) - Five Years Ago
I’ve always loved the news. As a kid my mother sheltered me from all the grim stuff like murder and plane crashes. But I’d always liked checking in with what was happening. Were stocks up or down, even though I didn’t know what stocks were. What decision did the president make that day? And in local news, who was arrested for what or what good-doer had done something great for the community.
As I grew up, the fascination with news never left. While history was interesting as well, news was the recording of history as it was happening. A
nd I wanted to be a part of it. It wasn’t just that news was immediate, a snapshot of life in a moment, but I was intrigued by how news came to be. Why did leaders lie? Why did so many who had less, give more? Why did people steal while others gave things away? I suppose in the end, my real interest was in life.
I wrote a little newsletter in my sixth-grade class, started a curated news blog for kids in junior high, and joined the school newspaper in high school. It was a given that I’d study journalism in college, even though newspapers were dying out and it was tougher to get a job as a reporter these days. But I did get a job. I helped pay for college with freelance work which helped me become a stringer until recently when the online news outlet located in Omaha hired me.
So far, I did smaller stories. My boss always liked how in-depth my writing was, but complained about how long my articles could get.
“We just need the news, Leslie, not a psych eval.”
I always smiled and agreed to do better, but it seemed to me that motivation and personality was a part of the news. For example, why did all the rich and powerful of Omaha have a fancy charity event that cost attendees thousands to attend and cost thousands more put on. Why not skip the ballroom and cracked crab and donate it all to the charity? My theory was that rich people liked to feel important and shindigs like a charity fundraiser made them seem important but also benevolent.
I had nothing against rich people, and in fact, I was beginning to see the draw of fancy parties as I observed and took note of the event. For me though, I felt a little like Cinderella. Birds and mice didn’t make my dress, but my mother did help me fix my old prom gown so I could fit in better at the party. There was nothing I could do about the studious glasses or crazy hair except pile it on my head in an attempt of an up-do.
Everyone who was anyone was at this fundraiser for the children’s hospital. State and local politicians and top businessmen mingled in the large ballroom. Most of them were old white men.
The one exception was Simon Stark. Although he inherited his parent’s wealth, in the few years since their death, he’d taken their fortune and quadrupled it. He was Nebraska’s golden boy. Top of the list of the state’s 30 Under 30 top people. He was considered Nebraska’s most eligible bachelor and to look at him, it was surprising that more women weren’t flocking to him. He was tall and lean, but not in a lanky way. He had broad shoulders that made me think of a swimmer. He was blond with deep brown eyes and chiseled features with high cheekbones. Not that I was gawking at him or anything. Okay, so maybe I was. But it wasn’t his money or even his great looks that made me watch him as he moved through the room talking to people. It was something in his eyes. They were both expressive and vacant at the same time. Like he was putting on a show, but inside was empty. Not in a psychopath sort of way, but like his life had been filled with sadness and he was trying to hide that. Of course, his parents had been killed in a private plane crash several years ago. Perhaps that was the source of his lost puppy look. I wanted to interview him, but I was here to observe and perhaps make small talk about the charity event, not do in-depth bios on its attendees.
I’d made the rounds of the room, and had put notes in my phone. I figured I deserved a little reward, so I headed to the bar to get a glass of champagne. I’d had the golden bubbly before, but I imagined that this stuff was expensive, which should equate to delicious.
The bartender narrowed his eyes at me. “Do you have ID?”
My mother said a day would come when I’d be glad to be carded because it would mean people thought I was younger than I was. That day wasn’t today.
“Yes.” I pulled out my little wallet from my purse and handed him my driver’s license.
“This is expired,” he said, handing it back to me.
I frowned as I looked down at it. Crap. I forgot to renew it. “It was good until a few weeks ago and it clearly says I’m old enough.” I was twenty-two for goodness sake.
He shook his head. “Sorry. I can’t accept expired ID.” He turned away to help someone else.
Dang it. I really wanted to try fancy champagne.
I turned away and ran smack into a wall of man.
“Looks like you’re having some trouble.”
I lifted my gaze to the soft brown eyes of Simon Stark. Even closer I could see the wall he tried to erect, and the pain.
“I think I can help.” He smiled, and while it made him handsome, that lingering of sadness remained. He pointed to a seating area. “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll see about getting you something to drink. Champagne?”
I nodded, unable to find my voice. Simon Stark was talking to me!
I took a seat at the table and a few moments later he showed up with two flutes.
“To new friends,” he said, holding up his flute.
“New friends.” I clicked my glass with his and drank. The bubbles were divine as they tumbled down my throat.
“I’m Simon Stark.”
I smiled. “Mr. Stark. I’m—”
“Simon. Please.”
I had to be grinning like a loon. “I’m Leslie.”
“I haven’t ever seen you around these stuffy affairs before, Leslie.”
“It’s my first time.” I withheld my reason for being there. Who knew what I might learn if he didn’t know I was a reporter?
“It doesn’t take long to get the lay of the land. For as sophisticated as we think we are, we’re pretty base humans.” He nodded to the right. “Philandering philanthropist.”
My brows drew together. “Does that mean he’s liberally giving of his … you know what, or that he is a philanthropist who cheats on his wife.”
Simon laughed. “Both. And over there the opulent activist.”
I noted the widow who spent a lot of time helping the poor. Right now, she was wearing a scarf that probably cost more than my car.
“And there is the bored banker.”
I looked over and saw the president of the bank. “What are you?”
He smiled, and goodness it was handsome even though it never quite reached his eyes. “Magnetic playboy.”
I quirked a brow, wondering why he picked that persona when it didn’t seem to fit. I’d have guessed wounded poor little rich kid. Like Bruce Wayne.
“Let me guess,” he said leaning forward. “Innocent heiress.”
I stared at him coyly over my champagne as I took a sip.
“I’m eager to find out. How about a dance?” He nodded toward an area where a band was playing old standards.
Cinderella danced, and so would I. Except I’d likely embarrass myself. “I don’t know how.”
He stood and held out his hand. His fingers were long and graceful. They seemed like they should be on a pianist or surgeon. I took his hand. It was warm and inviting.
“It might be sexist these days, but in general, the man still leads in a dance. Just follow my lead.”
I did as he instructed as he took me in his arms. When he moved, I moved with him. It was like being in a cloud, floating around the room. We made small talk, and yet it didn’t seem small at all. As it turned out, he felt a bit out of place too, which didn’t make sense because I was sure he was the richest man in the room. But his youth and his admitted lack of interest in knowing these people made him feel outside of them.
I didn’t tell him I felt like Cinderella because that would giveaway that I didn’t belong here. But I did tell him that I felt similarly.
“Are you sure you’ve never danced before?” He whispered. He was tall, so his breath warmed the top of my head.
“You’re a good leader,” I said.
“Perhaps it's that we move well together.”
I lifted my head, wondering if there was innuendo in that. His brown eyes stared down at me and something was different. Like a door was opening.
“Would you like to have a drink with me?”
“Is that code for something else?” I asked, amused.
His cheeks reddened. “I could be s
omething else, if you wanted.”
All my girly bits flared to life. I grinned. “Will you respect me in the morning? Or will you vanish in the night, like a bandit.”
“Why don’t you come to my place?”
I studied him.
“If I vanish, you can find me because you know where I live.”
I still watched him, wondering what was happening. I felt like a string was connecting me to him and pulling me toward him.
“I’m not a one-night sort of guy. I like you. And if you don’t want to have that drink, or whatever, tonight, perhaps I can see you tomorrow.”
There was a lot more to Simon Stark, I was realizing. And I very much wanted to dive into those brown eyes and find out all about him.
“I wouldn’t mind a drink.” Or whatever.
Twenty minutes later I was riding up in an elevator to his penthouse overlooking the Missouri River. Would Cinderella have done this the first night she danced with the Prince? Of course, she would.
I tried not to look like I was gawking as I took in the beautiful apartment. I worked to hide my reaction by going to the window and looking out over the night and the river while he poured drinks.
“Do you like the view?” he asked.
I turned and saw him on the couch with a drink. He held out another for me.
“It’s lovely.” I sat next to him, taking the drink.
“To new friends.”
“New friends.” I clicked my glass with his.
“Do you like the city?” he asked.
“Sure. There’s lots to do.” The question felt loaded though. “Don’t you?”
“There’s lots to do.” His words lacked affect.
“But.” I prodded.
He shrugged. “Sometimes it feels crowded.”
“True. There are some lovely small towns in the state for sure.”
We sat quietly for a moment, but it wasn’t awkward. I didn’t feel the need to fill the emptiness. Instead, I felt quite content to sit with him in the dark, looking out over the river while having a drink.
His fingers tugged gently on a tendril of my hair that had escaped my up-do. “I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something different about you.”
Fake Marriage (Contemporary Romance Box Set) Page 83