For Pete's Sake: An Enemies to Lovers Marriage of Convenience Standalone Romance Novel (Tobin Tribe Book 1)

by Caitlyn Coakley

  He shifted in his seat. “I’ve always been self-conscious of them. When you’re a teenager, you don’t want to be different. All you want to do is fit in, and, trust me, nothing about my teenaged self was designed to fit in. You think you’re too tall? I hit my growth spurt at twelve, and I never looked back. Down, yes, but never back.”

  She giggled. “I know the feeling.”

  “Black eyes are a lot more intimidating, so now, they’re part of my professional appearance. But I ripped one of my contacts taking it out last night, so here I am, au naturel.”

  Kind of like her four-inch heels, carefully calculated to ensure the upper hand. He shrugged and went back to work. Subtle he wasn’t, but she understood completely: subject closed. It was better that way.

  Somewhere over Colorado, Ethan fell asleep. Stephanie gently wrested his laptop from his hands and stowed it in her bag. She motioned to the flight attendant to cover him with a blanket.

  He’d only been a vague shadow in her mind a few days ago. A man who existed somewhere between vegan bacon and the life cycle of the fruit fly. Things she had heard of but didn’t care enough about to spend the time to Google. A man who, in the past twelve hours had given her more orgasms than all her previous lovers combined.

  But if you consider a million times zero is still zero...

  She looked down at the beautiful ring sparkling on her finger. That was something else Ethan had given her that no one else had: her own ring. She fingered the ring hanging from the chain around her neck.

  This contractual marriage was suddenly more real than the one that two hundred people had helped celebrate. Ethan had already been a better husband than the man who had waited for her at the altar and promised to love only her for the rest of his life.

  That was a problem because this marriage came with a pre-programmed expiration date. When the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania could no longer hold Megan against her will, she would claim her baby. Stephanie’s presence would no longer be required, and she would have to walk away from Ethan.

  Whether she wanted to or not.

  CHAPTER 24

  ETHAN GOT OUT OF THE car and leaned on the open door to look around. “Nice place.” That was an understatement. Three of his houses would easily fit inside with room to spare. Despite the sun barely breaching the horizon, he could tell that the front gardens rivaled the ones at the Morris Arboretum on the University of Pennsylvania campus.

  The arboretum. He hadn’t thought of it in years. The place where he’d walked off his pain and plotted his future. Where the broken-hearted, idealistic kid had morphed into the man hellbent on destroying those who would take advantage of the vulnerable.

  He’d vowed never to be vulnerable again, yet here he was.

  He’d known his new bride was loaded, but this was way beyond what he had expected. He could only imagine Sunday mornings, sipping coffee on the veranda, waving to the duffers making their way up the fourteenth fairway that bordered the back of the property. Nice shot, old chap!

  Okay, that was snarky, but getting stuck on the tarmac in Vegas and limping into Philly after four a.m. had taken the edge off his sunny disposition. So sue me.

  Good luck with that.

  Stephanie’s house—make that mansion—wasn’t that different from Valarie’s estate. Or Maria’s or Laura’s. At least he imagined they were similar. He’d never seen the front of any of their houses in the light of day. God forbid anyone should have caught him sneaking around during one of his visits. He’d always driven around the back, parked in the garage to hide his car from prying eyes, and let himself in the servant’s entrance that had been left unlocked.

  In after dark, gone by dawn. That should have been his first clue, but he’d been blinded by the attention and gifts they had showered him with that he’d missed what was so painfully clear in hindsight.

  Looking back, he’d been little more than a hot car chassis wending its way along an automotive assembly line. Stop here for headlights. Travel a few feet to get fitted for the grill. Program the onboard computer at a different station. A final inspection for fit and finish and out into the world.

  Because every new car had to eventually make room for next year’s model. Newer, shinier, flashier. Younger.

  He couldn’t deal with that right now, or he’d go crazy. Or crazier because this whole situation was insane. He needed a clear head and every one of his brain cells firing on all cylinders. He stifled a yawn. If his—their—meeting with the judge from hell went his way, he might not sleep for weeks. He was going to have to check into that caffeine IV drip. Was there a coffee patch like the ones people used to quit smoking? Right now, he needed both.

  “You live here all by yourself?” he asked and immediately regretted it.

  The sun had inched high enough to spotlight her sudden sadness.

  “It was built to be filled with kids, but the Jordan clan proved to be an infertile bunch, managing only one child per generation. Now it’s just me, and if I’m lucky, my generation’s solitary child.”

  His sleepy brain couldn’t keep up. “Jordan?”

  “My grandmother, Carolyn. She died before I was born, but the locals still call it Jordan House. Other than her jewelry and clothes, it’s the only thing she had left when she married dear old Grandpa Jamison. Come on in, I’ll give you a quick tour before I get ready,” she offered.

  Was she kidding? “We can do that some other time. Just freshen up while I make a pot of coffee. You do have coffee, don’t you?”

  She walked up to the door and pressed her index finger on the red glowing pad. In less than a second, the pad turned blue. Lights inside the house started popping on. “Suit yourself.”

  Once inside the massive foyer, she stopped to enter her security code, then punched a few more keys. “Put your index finger on the red pad, then pick a PIN. That will get you in the front door. It’s an older system, so you’ll have to pick a second code for the back door. There’s a Keurig in the kitchen. All the way back and to the left.”

  The front door. The significance hit him like the proverbial ton of bricks. She was taking him through her front door. Like he mattered. Like he belonged. Like she wasn’t ashamed of him. And the sun was coming up. The midnight man wasn’t going to be pushed down the service stairs and out the backdoor before the rest of the manor arose from their bedchambers.

  Lust caromed off adrenaline, hitching a ride on the blood racing through his veins in an out-of-control ride that made white water rafting seem like a lazy summer’s day on a paddleboat. Everything rushing to settle in his groin. Who needed coffee?

  He laced his fingers through her hair and drew her to him. He kissed her with a fury he couldn’t deny. The harder he battled against the forces raging within him, the more helpless he felt. He was losing his objectivity, his control, hell, his damned mind.

  He’d been down this road too many times before, and each trip had resulted in a painful crash at the inevitable dead end. The minuscule part of him that was still rational, the part urging him to pull back, melted into oblivion, leaving Ethan at the mercy of his raging desire.

  It was like being caught in a rogue cloudburst: crushing, confusing, nearly suffocating in its intensity. The solid ground under his feet dissolved. He was drowning in her. She wove her arms around his waist and held on to him as if riding out a storm. So she felt it too.

  His lips worked hers, burning as they traveled to her chin, along her jaw to her ear. Remnants of their coconut shampoo filled his head. He could almost taste the tropical treat as his tongue lashed her earlobe, tracing up her ear, then behind to tease the spot where her ear met her jaw. The walls that surrounded them fell away. They could have been anywhere, or nowhere. As long as they were together, it didn’t matter.

  Her moan spurred him on.

  He pulled away, barely enough to form words, her lips tickling his he spoke. “Bed?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not going to make it that far. Couch.”

  �
��Even better.” He swept her into his arms and carried her across the room, never breaking their kiss.

  How they got naked was lost in a frenzy of nips and kisses and tongues, but the how wasn’t important. He was a junkie with a desperate need pulsing through him. He wanted his fix, and he wanted it now.

  She reached down to stroke him, tracing a slow pattern up his shaft with the tip of her fingernail, urging him on. “Baby, stop. I’m going to humiliate myself if you don’t.”

  “Then in me now, Ethan, please.”

  He loved it when she begged. “I don’t think you’re ready for me yet, baby. Relax and let me drive you up the mountain before we jump off the cliff.”

  CHAPTER 25

  STEPHANIE ABSENT-MINDEDLY picked at her manicure only half-conscious of her actions until one nail popped off. Talk about bad timing. Now, she needed a fill and a replacement, but did it have to be her middle finger? Would the judge think Stephanie was giving her the bird?

  Crap.

  She scooped the wayward nail up off the floor and tossed it into her purse. She shifted her weight in the plush, cushioned chairs that, for some reason, were more uncomfortable than the ones on the other side of Ethan’s massive desk.

  “Sitting outside of a judge’s chambers is a lot like being called to the principal’s office,” she said. No matter how old you were, or how secure in the knowledge you hadn’t done anything wrong, it was never a good feeling. “I still have nightmares about Sister Mary Elizabeth. With that black habit, she scared the bejesus out of me on the first day of kindergarten, and it only got worse from there. She looked more like a Halloween witch than a holy woman.”

  But those memories couldn’t compare to the dread building in her exponentially by the minute. There was a fifty-fifty chance her life was about to implode. Again. Had Ethan mentioned a name? Not that she could recall. All Stephanie could recall was that Ethan had used the pronoun she. That wasn’t any help.

  Stephanie looked at the nameplate on the door to her left. The Honorable Josephine P. Mulligan. She might have met the woman briefly at one of Aunt Sandy’s annual ugly sweater Christmas soirees, but the name didn’t ring a bell. Mulligan was merely a name from the news.

  But on the right, the nameplate on the door elicited warm memories of horseback riding, shopping trips, and spa days. You want to ride the black horse? Sure, honey. Purple nails? Why not? A tiara? But of course!

  As the only daughter among three sorority sister-besties, Stephanie had always relished the adult female attention lavished on her. While her father had hung out with the Tobin boys, Stephanie had enjoyed the full attention of her mother and her aunts Deb and Sandy. The three women who had never said no to anything she asked for.

  Ethan reached out to take her suddenly frozen hand. Unlike the other times they’d touched, this contact calmed her.

  “I know how you feel; I was a frequent flyer on the principal’s bench,” he said as he stared at the wall. “I’m usually in hot water when this judge demands an audience. It almost always means my case is in jeopardy. This time, there’s far more at stake than a few million dollars.”

  Her hand—and her heart—warmed as his thumb traced random shapes on the back of her hand. Pete was worth more to him than a few million dollars. So there was a heart buried inside the gorgeous orgasm machine.

  But she couldn’t let that revelation alter the reality of the situation. This was a business deal.

  But in some ways, being with Ethan these past few hours had been a lot like the days she’d spent with her mother and aunts with everyone laser-focused on showing her a good time. Ethan had shown her a fantastic time, but playtime was over. It was about to get real. Her fantasy of having a baby might finally come true.

  Then what?

  Hell, if she knew. She was a passenger on this bus; not in the driver’s seat like she had been yesterday morning. What if the judge denied Ethan’s request? Would he kick her off the metaphorical bus at his first opportunity?

  But what would happen if the judge said yes? She, Stephanie Aldred Kerrigan, BS, MBA, CEO, would add a new set of letters to her name: MOM.

  In her head, she knew it was only temporary. In her head, she knew Pete wasn’t hers. In her head, she knew he was a difficult baby. That much was obvious by the way the little peanut had done what dozens of powerful people had failed to do; he had broken one of the city’s most outrageous, flamboyant assholes in only a few days. Quite impressive. She couldn’t wait to meet the little terrorist.

  She knew the next few weeks would take her down that same sleep-deprived road Ethan had lamented; a road paved with dirty diapers mortared with fluids she didn’t want to think about. But her heart wasn’t listening to her head. No, her heart had basically shoved its pulsing fingers into its ears happily singing, “La, la, la, I can’t hear you.”

  Think of this as a test drive. At least she’d find out if she could give a baby everything he needed. If she couldn’t handle it with Ethan’s help, how could she possibly expect to pull it off as a single mother?

  Not have a good feeling? Check that. Try petrified. Her frozen brain repeated Mulligan like a mantra in the hope that the sheer power of her will would magically manipulate the levers and pulleys of fate, steering her toward the door on the left before anyone was the wiser.

  The clerk stood. “Mr. Webb, Ms. Kerrigan, Judge Banner will see you now.”

  Ethan immediately sprang to his feet, turning to help Stephanie up. She grasped his hand in a death grip, leaning heavily into him as she rose, standing on wobbly knees. He put an arm around her to steady her. Spots danced before her as the edges of her vision faded to gray.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice sounding as if it was on the other end of a bad cellphone connection.

  Her only response was a slight nod, so slight she wasn’t sure if it was a yes or a no, but there was no mistaking the terror in Ethan’s eyes.

  He leaned in to whisper into her ear, the sensation not nearly as pleasant as it had been barely an hour ago. His voice low, he hissed, “Where is my confident, sassy lady? If we can’t make the judge believe we’re happy newlyweds, I’m screwed. Are you with me, Stephanie?”

  Again, another minuscule, noncommittal nod.

  He stepped aside, swept his hand in front of her as if clearing a path. “Ladies first.”

  CHAPTER 26

  TALK ABOUT A DEER IN headlights. Those beautiful green eyes nearly disappeared behind her ever-expanding pupils. Her normally pale complexion drained of all color. It was as if she was fading away as he watched.

  “No, please, you go first. I’ll follow,” she barely whispered; then mumbled something that sounded a whole lot like maybe.

  “Stephanie, please, I need you.” Did she have any idea how much those words cost him? How much he hated the idea of needing anyone or anything?

  The realization broke over him like a dozen rotten eggs falling from the sky. There was something he hated more than owing someone: needing them. And now he both owed and needed her. If history was about to repeat itself, the next stop on this crazy train was a place he’d vowed to never visit again.

  He couldn’t worry about that right now. He shot a quick prayer into the universe to any god who would listen. One simple word that hurt as if a scalpel had sliced it from his bones. Please. It was the best he could do before striding into Judge Banner’s chambers with a bravado as phony as his marriage.

  Three people sat around the judge’s desk. They might as well have been three giraffes for all Ethan noticed. Or cared. He zeroed in on Judge Banner.

  Who was that sweet angel sleeping—yes, he was sleeping—in that sling-thing wrapped around her neck?

  Ironic.

  How many times had he fantasized about wrapping his hands around that neck? And now? Now her neck, her hands, her arms, were giving Pete the comfort neither he nor Megan had been able to provide.

  His eyes stung. God damn it, he was not going to lose it now. Not in front of her. He reac
hed for Pete. “Your Honor, may I?”

  She pulled Pete closer, turning her shoulder toward Ethan to shield the baby. “In due time, Mr. Webb.” She gestured to the men who rose to greet him. “This is Mr. Meacham and Mr. Struthers from Child Protective Services, and the tall, good-looking one is my nephew, Quinn Tobin. Quinn is the pool reporter. His random selection was no accident. A little birdie told him to bring his sketch kit. When I ruled no cameras, he was ready. We’re keeping this close to the vest.”

  Ethan absent-mindedly shook each of the men’s hands in turn. Where the hell was Stephanie? Why was she hovering outside the door? This reticent little girl on the first day of kindergarten act was not what he’d expected from her.

  Was she waiting for an introduction? He turned to the judge before dropping giraffe number three’s hand. “Your Honor, may I introduce my wife, Stephanie Kerrigan?”

  A crushing pain shot up his arm. An angry roar blasted past his ears, filling the room. “Jesus Fucking Christ, Steppie! You married this fucking asshole? What the fuck were you thinking?”

  There was no conscious thought. Ethan returned the vice-like grip, wrenching Quinn’s arm behind his back. The reaction so fast, so brutal, it was as if he was watching it play out instead of participating. “You will speak to my wife with respect, do I make myself clear?”

  The judge wasn’t in the mood for games. “Gentlemen, and I use that term loosely, if you don’t stop this instant, I’ll have to have my chambers fumigated to remove the stench of testosterone. Mr. Webb, you will let go of Mr. Tobin immediately and sit down. Mr. Tobin, you will apologize to this court and to Ms. Kerrigan for your outburst.”

  “Mrs. Webb,” Stephanie corrected the judge.

  All heads turned toward Stephanie; their expressions twisted as if they’d watched her kill a beloved pet. Especially the judge.