What bothered Beth the most though was the fact no one seemed interested in questioning the guy’s methods, or his credentials. Lord knew it was easy enough to invent a persona these days. Plenty of people had done it and successfully bilked people out of their life’s fortunes. And there were a few other warning signs that were setting off all Beth’s alarm bells. She’d gotten her editor’s approval to go in undercover, and it had all been arranged. She’d accounted for everything…except for Hepatitis A.
Shit. Just shit.
She sat forward in her chair and flipped through the file of documents and notes she and Jeff had compiled over the last few months. If it weren’t a couples’ retreat, she’d just go ahead on her own, but for this job, she needed a partner. Jeff had been the obvious choice her mind. Happily married, laidback, a good friend, but not attractive to Beth at all as anything more than that. They knew each other well enough to fake a relationship on the island without any risk of real feelings becoming involved. It would have been perfect.
Now, as she gazed around the newsroom at the other potential candidates, the outlook of continuing was bleak. There was Alan, a geeky dude who all but fell over his own feet whenever Beth even said good morning to him. He was out. While Beth was flattered by his crush on her, she didn’t do relationships, and she had a feeling Alan would read way too much into an offer to play her spouse, even if it was for an assignment. She didn’t want to lead him on since she was all about her career these days.
Her gaze moved on to Don, their financial reporter. The fact he was gay might be an advantage during a couples’ retreat—no worries about him trying to come on to her. But he’d just gone through a bad breakup—asking him to go on a couples’ retreat would be like pouring salt in the wound.
Finally, she spotted Stan, the sports guy, by the water cooler. He looked up and caught Beth watching him, gave her a wink and a not-so-subtle hike of his pants to accentuate his crotch area and…ewww. Stan was okay looking, she supposed, in that square-jawed, square-headed jock sort of way, but definitely not her type. She wasn’t that much of an actress. If she was going to be fake-married to someone, they’d have to have real chemistry or they’d never be believable. Anyone who watched her around Stan would quickly see that her strongest feeling toward him was disgust.
So yeah. Pickings were slim at the Frisco Times offices. Not good. Not good at all.
She’d just turned back to her files again when an unfamiliar male voice said from behind her, “Excuse me. I’m looking for Beth Williams.”
Beth looked back over her shoulder, then froze. She’d expected a delivery guy or messenger, since she had some new copies of documents arriving on the Hart case being overnighted today. But what she saw was a man who looked like he’d walked right out of her naughty fantasies—tall, dark, and delicious. She turned slowly and flashed him her most seductive smile. Perhaps today wasn’t quite as sucky as she’d imagined. Beth wasn’t looking for Mr. Right, but she’d sure as hell take Mr. Right Now if he fell into her lap. And that idea sent her mind spinning into a whole other erotic tangent. Her and this mystery man crashing into each other, falling onto her desk, him taking her right there. Her nails digging into those broad, muscled shoulders of his, as he kissed and licked his way down her body, from her neck to her breasts to the heat throbbing between her legs.
Jesus, she really needed to get out more.
Cheeks heated from her wicked thoughts, she took a deep breath and held out her hand. “You found me. What can I do for you?”
His grip was strong and sure, his skin warm against hers, and electric sparks of awareness zinged up her arm from their point of contact. From the slight widening of his warm brown eyes, she knew he’d felt it too.
“Your brother, Heath, sent me,” the guy said. “He’s been trying to reach you for a couple of days and has gotten no response.”
Beth’s shoulders sagged and she rolled her eyes. Figured that on the day her career took a crap, her older brother would get all overprotective again. No. Not again. Always. She loved her brother, but for crying out loud…Heath was like a shadow she couldn’t shake. Ugh. She’d been wrong. This day was hitting a new all-time high on the suckage meter.
Swiveling back around to face her desk, she did her best to ignore the gorgeous guy behind her, though her skin still tingled from his touch. “Tell Heath to mind his own damned business. I’ve been busy with work. I’m fine, as you can see.”
Instead of walking away, as she’d hoped, he stayed right where he was and said, “Heath and I are in the same SEAL team.”
Well, that explained his buff physique then. And his confident swagger. And his tanned skin. And…
Nope. Not going there. Any friend of her brother’s was definitely off-limits, no matter how hot.
Heath was up her butt enough as it was. If she slept with one of his friends, he’d go ballistic.
She didn’t turn around this time as she spoke, focusing on the wreck of her story again. “So, he sent you here to check up on me. Tell him I’m fine, Mr.?”
“Eric,” he said. “Eric Harvey.”
“Tell Heath I’m fine, Mr. Harvey,” she said, deliberately using his last name to keep some much-needed distance between them. “Your job’s done now. Go away. I’m busy.”
A few moments ticked past, but he didn’t move. While she wasn’t looking at him, Beth could still feel the guy looming behind her like a storm cloud.
“So, you’re a reporter then?” he asked finally.
“Wow, what was your first clue?” she said, her snark rising in direct proportion to her irritation. How could a day that started out so good, end up so bad? Still, it wasn’t this guy’s fault and wasn’t fair for her to take it out on him. With a sigh, she faced him once more. “Sorry. That wasn’t nice of me. Yes, I’m a reporter. An investigative journalist, to be precise.” She hiked her thumb toward the degree from Stanford hanging on the wall of her cubicle. “Got the certificate to prove it.”
“Nice.” He narrowed his gaze on her, his expression unreadable. “You’re not anything like your brother.”
That was true. Where Heath took after their American mother’s side with blond hair and blue eyes, Beth resembled their Vietnamese father. With her long dark hair and almond-shaped eyes, she and her brother didn’t even appear related, if you went by looks alone. But they shared the same drive to succeed and the same unwavering need to protect others, both ingrained in them by their parents. Her brother had channeled his energies first into his role as big brother and later as a Navy SEAL. Beth had gone a different route, using her brains instead of brawn to tell the stories that needed told to right wrongs and keep people safe. Beth loved her brother, but they didn’t always see eye to eye, and most days he got on her last nerve with his constant intrusion into her life.
She suppressed another eye roll. Her family issues weren’t this guy’s problem. Still, she couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her tone when she said, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should,” Eric said, chuckling. “You’re a lot better looking than him.”
Beth snorted and checked his ring finger out of habit. No ring. No tan line either. Didn’t mean he wasn’t married, but the odds were in her favor. Not that she cared. Nope.
“Are you working on a story right now?” he asked, leaning one broad shoulder against the wall of her cubicle, his long legs crossed at the ankles. “Anything interesting?”
At his mention of the Hart case, her enthusiasm plummeted. “I was—an exposé on a couples’ retreat that I think is hiding something shady. But I just got some bad news that my partner’s ill and won’t be able to go undercover with me, so it looks like the project is a wash, at least for now.”
“That’s too bad.” He looked genuinely disappointed for her. “Was it time-sensitive?”
“Yeah, it kind of was.” She sighed. “They only hold these retreats twice a year and the next one’s starting next week. My partner and I were going to pose as a
couple and try to discover the truth about what’s there.” She shook her head. “There’s no use dwelling on it when it’s not happening. But speaking of things happening…if you’re in Heath’s team, then shouldn’t you be off saving the world in some exotic locale? Last I heard from Heath, he was overseas.”
“Right now, I’m on medical leave for shoulder surgery. Once I’ve finished recuperating, I’ll be back to the team. I’m sorry about your story. I know that’s a bummer. I worked several undercover ops in the SEALs and I always hated the way if one thing went wrong the whole mission was a bust. You prepare for months ahead of time then poof. Over.” He shook his head and checked his watch then straightened. “Well, I should go. I’ll tell Heath you’re good and get him off your back for a while.” He raised a hand as he backed away. “Nice to have met you, Beth Williams.”
“Same,” she said, watching him walk away, his movements lithe and graceful. She bet he’d look fantastic in swim trunks. Beth scrunched her nose. Where the hell had that come from? It wasn’t like she was tapping that. She’d never have the chance to see him in a bathing suit, let alone…
The idea struck her out of left field and had her on her feet before she could stop herself. He was unattached, used to undercover missions, and completely off-limits. Plus, he was a friend of Heath’s, which was clearance enough for his character. In short, he was exactly what she needed in a replacement partner for Jeff. Plus, if she got a little eye candy thrown in for fun, so be it.
She grabbed her bag off the desk and caught up with him at the elevators. “Hey, do you have somewhere you need to be right now?”
Eric frowned. “Not for a couple of hours. Why?”
“It’s almost lunch time. Want to grab a bite at the café next door?” She smiled and waggled her wallet in the air. “My treat. I’ve got a proposition I’d like to discuss with you.”
Grab your copy of Guarding His Pretend Wife
Available September 19th, 2019
www.LeslieNorthBooks.com
BLURB
Eric Harvey is the perfect man to play journalist Beth William’s fake husband—he’s a guy and he’s willing. Beth is on the cusp of breaking a huge story about an exclusive couples-only retreat when her partner becomes ill. In walks Eric, her brother’s buddy, and a brilliant idea strikes her. This Navy SEAL, on leave nursing an injury, could step in and pose as her husband while she tries to uncover what’s really happening at the retreat. With their story set, the two head to the tropical island, ready to do their job. It’s all business—until it isn’t. Beth hadn’t realized how difficult it was going to be pretending to be in love while not actually falling in love with this sexy man. As the two get closer to finding the truth about the resort, Beth finds herself getting unexpectedly closer to Eric. Something that wasn’t in the plan at all.
Eric agreed to Beth’s plan out of pure boredom. Why not spend some time on a tropical island with a beautiful girl, even if his buddy’s sister is completely off limits? But it doesn’t take long before he realizes something is seriously wrong with this paradise. Someone seems to be out to hurt Beth, kicking Eric’s protective instincts into high gear. Now he’s keeping Beth close for her safety even as his head warns him to keep his distance. Sure, there’s danger on the island, but the most dangerous thing may be the way his body and his heart is responding to Beth.
Thank goodness Beth reminds him that the only reason she is on the island is for her job—a job that just might kill them both…or leave their hearts in tatters if they don’t trust in each other…
Grab your copy of SEAL’s Homecoming
(Seal & Veterans Book 1) from www.LeslieNorthBooks.com
* * *
EXCERPT
Chance McCallister popped the last button and peeled his sweaty Dress White uniform top off with a relieved sigh. For two hours he’d melted under the relentless sun in the long-sleeved polyester. Standing by his father’s grave would have been hard enough even without the thick, Georgian, mid-July humidity pressing against the weight of all the medals, ribbons, badges, and Navy SEAL Trident adorning the front of his coat.
“I need a beer.” Harris, the middle brother, dropped his Dress Blue uniform top—courtesy of the U.S. Marines—onto the back of a kitchen chair and headed for the refrigerator.
“Grab me one too.” Lee, the youngest at twenty-eight, stretched his arms over his head, already losing his Army Dress Blue uniform top the second they got home.
Standing in wet undershirts, uniform pants, belts, and shiny shoes, none of them would pass inspection, but only Harris had to worry about returning to service in thirty days. Chance and Lee each just recently retired from the military, though, for two very different reasons.
“Chance?” Harris held up two bottles by their long necks and arched an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” Chance sighed, his skin rippling at the central air conditioning pumping through the vents, drying the moisture. “Might as well.”
Harris nudged the door shut with his foot and thrust the bottles at Chance and Lee, then twisted the cap off the one he kept for himself. “To Dad.” He lifted his beer. “May he finally be at peace.”
Chance tilted his bottle toward his brothers, then took a long, fortifying drink. He’d never expected to become an orphan at thirty years old, but burying his father earlier today had done just that. Ray McCallister had fought a hard battle with liver cancer, but after twenty years of drinking, it had only been a matter of time before the cancer had finally won. Chance had barely been granted retirement from the Navy in time to take care of the bedridden man. Hell, he had only been home a week when Ray died. Harris had always been closest to their father, but Chance used the days he’d been granted before Ray dropped into a coma to make peace. Ray hadn’t trusted Chance’s attempts at first, assuming they’d fall into old patterns of loud hostile arguments and accusations, but when Chance remained calm and sincere, they’d actually had a few heart-filled conversations. Chance just wished he wasn’t so versed in planning funerals. Coordinating his mother’s when she died in his teens had left him bereft and filled with resentment. But that was all finally behind him now.
Pivoting, he left the kitchen and wandered into the living room. The small, three-bedroom rancher had seen better days. Worn spots marred the once dark green carpet in the high-traffic paths, and the pale-yellow walls looked tired and faded. Peering out the bay window behind a pillow-style couch, he grunted at how tall the wilting grass had grown on the small plot making up the front yard.
“I mowed last Friday.” Chance raised his voice to be heard over his brothers dissecting the attendance at the graveside service. “You two can fight over who’s tackling the lawn next.”
“Hey, Lee,” Harris chirped as he crossed to the fireplace. “Remember this?” Harris plucked an old Polaroid camera from behind Lee’s 8x10 high school graduation photo on top of the stained-wood mantel.
Deep creases formed between Lee’s brows and he rubbed his right eye. The very eye that had earned him a medical discharge after a small piece of shrapnel had damaged his vision. As a decorated sniper for the Army Rangers, that had been the kiss of death for his career and Lee had refused to start over in another specialization.
“You never went anywhere without that thing.” Chance swallowed the last of his beer. “So annoying.”
Harris chuckled. “You used to boast about becoming a world-famous photographer.”
“Guess the joke’s on me,” Lee growled, lifting his beer, then chugging the whole thing.
A pang lanced Chance’s heart. He needed to figure out a way to reach his brother before this bitter, restless man fully replaced the laughing smartass who loved playing practical jokes.
Setting his bottle onto the closest end table, Chance strolled toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “You may have been irritating—” The constant whirring of the photos ejecting out of the bottom used to drive Chance nuts. “—but you did get some great shots.” He pointed at a Polaroid pict
ure tucked between the glass and frame of his parents on their wedding day, hanging in the hall.
Harris and Lee crowded on either side of Chance and stared at the photo of their father holding a bag of boiled peanuts, caught mid-shock when he walked into the house for his surprise birthday party.
“Oh, man.” Harris cracked up. “Look at his face. I forgot about that day.”
“But this one’s my favorite.” Chance plucked a Polaroid out of another frame. The entire family—three brothers and both parents—stood in front of the house on a sunny day only months before their mother got sick. “I still can’t believe you talked Mrs. Mabry into taking it.” Their old neighbor, seventy-one at the time, had always complained about everything and everyone.
Lee smirked and for a moment, his amber-brown eyes twinkled like they used to. “That old bird was easy to figure out. The second I promised to scoop all the poop out of her yard and dump it on Pete Walsh’s porch, she was putty in my hands.”
Guarding the Single Mother: SEAL Endgame Book One Page 11
