Harlequin Desire February 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2: The King Next DoorMarriage With BenefitsA Real Cowboy (Kings of California)

by Maureen Child

  Shaking his head, Griffin argued, “Nicole and Connor both deserve the best. What if I suck at being a husband and an instant father? Is it fair to them to risk it?”

  “Griffin, you’ve never sucked at a damn thing if you wanted it badly enough.” Garrett reached over and gave his twin’s shoulder a hard shove. “If they deserve the best, then give it to them.”

  Griffin nodded, feeling his old self-confidence come rushing back. He’d been second-guessing himself when it came to Nicole for so long, it was a relief to finally see his path laid out in front of him. Hell, yes, they deserved the best. And he’d damn well make sure they got it.

  “So?” Garrett asked. “You going to be at the palace for dinner tonight?”

  Griffin grinned. “Hell, no, I’m going home. To Nicole.”

  * * *

  Nicole missed Griffin so much, it was a physical ache.

  It had been days and nothing had changed. If anything, the pain kept growing, swelling inside her until she could hardly breathe. But it wasn’t only her pain she had to deal with.

  Connor had been moping around in toddler misery. Every day he asked for Griffin and every day, she explained that Griffin had had to go away. Her son’s pain layered over hers until Nicole felt as though she was drowning.

  Middle-of-the-night television was less than thrilling, but it beat lying in bed, trying futilely for sleep. She sat on the couch in her tank top and boxer-short PJs, flipping mindlessly through the channels until she came to an infomercial about psychics. For only five dollars a minute, you could have a stranger tell you how to fix your life.

  But she didn’t need a psychic for that. What she needed was what she’d already lost.

  Outside, the world was quiet, peaceful. Inside, the television sound was set to whisper. So when the doorbell rang, she jumped a foot off the couch and then hurried to the front door. She grabbed the phone on the way, just in case she needed to call 911. But then, what kind of mad-dog burglar would ring the bell?

  She looked out the window at the front porch and her heart jolted hard into life when she saw Griffin standing there in the soft glow of the porch light.

  Why was he here? What should she do? Ignore him? Open the door just so she could slam it?

  He rang the bell again, and her decision was made. If Griffin kept that up, Connor would wake, and then she’d spend a half hour getting her son back to sleep.

  Flipping the locks, she opened the door and looked up into blue eyes that locked on her like twin lasers. “Griffin, what do you want?”

  “You.”

  “What?” Impossible. She was dreaming again. It was the only explanation. In the snatches of sleep she’d managed to grab over the last few days, her mind had tortured her with dreams just like this one, dreams in which Griffin came back, begged her forgiveness—like a King would ever do that—and pledged his undying love. The dreams always ended the same way, too—with Nicole waking up, emptier than when she’d fallen asleep.

  He slapped one hand to the door as if to prevent her from closing it. “Can I come in?”

  So, then, no dream.

  “I don’t think so,” she said, though it cost her. What she wanted was to throw herself into his arms and feel him hold her close again. She wanted to feel. To come out of this half-waking life she’d been living.

  But at the heart of all of this, in spite of her wants and needs and wishes and dreams, lay one truth. Griffin hadn’t just walked away from her. He’d walked out on Connor. He’d broken her son’s heart, and she didn’t think she could forgive him for that.

  “Okay,” he said quickly, “I can understand that. You’re pissed. You’ve got a right to be.”

  “It’s way beyond pissed, Griffin,” she told him and felt her spine snap into place. “You disappeared. Connor’s been asking for you every day, and all I can tell him is that you had to go away.”

  His jaw clenched, and he let his head fall back for a moment. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

  “I heard you, you know,” she said, deliberately keeping her gaze locked on his. “That day on the beach when you told your brother you felt sorry for Connor. Well, he doesn’t need your pity. And neither do I.”

  His head dropped to his chest before he looked at her again. “That was bull. I never felt sorry for Connor. Why the hell would I? He has everything. He has you.”

  One small hurt washed away with his words. But it wasn’t enough yet.

  “I’m sorry, Nicole. For so damn much.”

  “I’m not the one you need to say that to. Well,” she corrected, “not the only one.”

  “I know that, too,” he told her, meeting her gaze again. “The reason I came here now, in the middle of the night, was to make sure Connor was asleep. So if you tell me to go away, I will, and he’ll never have to know I was here.”

  She flinched.

  “But don’t tell me to go away,” he added quickly.

  “Why shouldn’t I?” she asked warily.

  He bent down to retrieve a large white bag that sat at his feet. She hadn’t noticed it before. No surprise, since she hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him.

  Reaching into the bag, he pulled out a small, green velvet box.

  Nicole’s heart actually stopped. She slapped one hand to her chest as if to get it beating again. If this was a dream, she really didn’t want to wake up this time.

  Opening the box, he showed her the ring inside. “A star sapphire,” he said. “Because it reminds me of your eyes. A deep, rich blue, but with stars and secrets hidden in their depths.”

  “Griffin...” Shaking her head, she looked from the beautiful ring to his face, to his eyes, and what she saw there stole her breath.

  This was way better than her dreams, Nicole thought. The promise, the love, the future she saw in his expression was more than her mind could ever have conjured.

  “There’s more,” he said before she could say anything else. He dipped into the bag again and pulled out a fireman’s hat. “It’s for Connor,” he said unnecessarily. “He really loved sitting on that fire truck, so I thought...”

  She reached out and took the hat from him, running her hands over the slick, plastic brim. It was bright red, with a shiny gold plastic badge, and Connor would love it. Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at the man watching her so stoically.

  “Please let me in, Nicole,” he whispered.

  How could she not? Even if she only wanted to cling to her anger and hurt, she would have been moved by this late-night visit. But she wanted so much more than to stay mired in pain.

  Nodding, she stepped back, and once he was in the house, he closed the door, sealing them into the room together. He took the fire hat from her and set it down onto the nearest table.

  The room was dark, lit only by the television and from the streetlights outside. Still clutching the ring box in one hand, Griffin reached out and used his free hand to stroke her cheek. The feel of his skin against hers again was magic, Nicole thought, and she fervently hoped that there was a forever here they could both grab hold of.

  But first, she had to hear him out. Had to be sure that he’d never leave again. She could risk her own heart, but she wouldn’t put her son’s happiness on the line.

  “I was wrong, Nicole,” he whispered. “I never should have left. Never should have risked losing you forever. My only excuse is, I hadn’t planned on falling in love. You caught me off guard.”

  “You did the same to me,” she said.

  “See, I never actually thought I was capable of the kind of love I feel for you. I never saw myself getting married or being a father—”

  She pulled back instinctively, but he held on to her.

  “That was then. This is now. I love you, Nicole. I love Connor. I want us to get married,” he told her. “I
want to adopt Connor, if you’ll let me. I want to be your husband and his father. I want more kids. As many as we can have,” he said, warming to his theme, a smile curving his mouth. “Nothing the Kings like better than big families.”

  “More kids.”

  “Lots of ’em.” He swore it, his voice carrying the ring of truth, of desire.

  For the first time that night, tears filmed her eyes and spilled over. Griffin reacted instantly, moving in to sweep the tears aside with his thumb and then pull her into him, nestling her body against his. “I swear to you, that’s the last time I will ever make you cry, Nicole. No more tears.”

  She wanted so desperately to believe. To let herself grab this happiness and hold on to it. For her and for Connor.

  “I’m asking you for a chance, Nicole,” he said, leaning back until their eyes could meet and hold. “One more chance to prove how much I love you both. To show you that I’m the only man in the world for you.” He bent down and kissed her mouth quickly, firmly. “I swear I’m worth the trouble.”

  She laughed a little, and it felt as if the ice around her heart was shattering.

  “I’m taking that as a good sign,” he said, giving her a half smile that tugged at her heart and soul. “But I want you to know, even if you say no to me tonight, I’m not going away. Not ever. I know what I want now, Nicole. And I’m willing to fight for it. I’ll wait for you to be sure. But I won’t give up. Not on you. Not on us.”

  He caught her chin in his fingers and rubbed her skin with his thumb. “I’ll come back tomorrow night and the night after that and the night after that until I finally convince you.”

  “You think you can?” she asked, loving this side of him. Loving being with him again and feeling the hope for a shiny future rising up inside her.

  “Honey, I’m a King. There’s nothing we can’t do,” he assured her.

  “Griff?” Connor walked into the room and both adults turned to the little boy in his sleeper jammies. Clutching his alligator in the crook of one arm, the child looked up at Griffin and gave him a huge grin. “Griff is back!”

  “Yeah, buddy,” he said, giving Nicole a cautious glance. “I’m back. I promise I won’t go away again.”

  Connor raced to him, and Griffin swung the boy up into his arms.

  “Connor missed you,” the boy said solemnly.

  “I know, and I’m sorry,” Griffin told him. “I missed you, too. But I brought you a present.” He reached for the hat, plunked it down onto the boy’s head and grinned at him.

  “Fireman!” Connor shouted with glee.

  Nicole’s heart couldn’t be fuller. She watched her son and the man she loved together and her whole world suddenly fell into place. Everything was just as it should be. All she had to do was take a single leap of faith. To trust in the love she felt and the love she could see in Griffin’s eyes.

  “Mommy, Griff is back!”

  “I see that,” she said, moving in closer to the two men in her life. “I think he should stay, don’t you?”

  Griffin’s gaze locked on hers. His heart was in his eyes, and she read everything she needed to know right there. This wasn’t a gamble. This was the best thing that had ever happened to her. And she wasn’t going to miss a minute of it.

  “Stay!” Connor blurted, then leaned into Griffin. “And a story.”

  “You bet, little guy,” Griffin said and held out the beautiful sapphire-and-gold ring toward Nicole.

  She lifted her left hand and watched as he slid the ring onto her finger. Its weight was perfect. Everything was perfect.

  In the flickering light of the television, a family was made.

  Nicole leaned into Griffin and felt his arm come around her. Here was her dream come true. Here was everything she would ever need.

  “Let’s put our son to bed,” Griffin said with a smile, “then we can...talk. I’ll prove to you just how much I missed you.”

  Love flared into life inside her and washed through her with a wave strong enough to wipe away disappointments and hurts and everything but the rightness of this moment.

  There was only one thing left to say to him.

  “Welcome home, Griffin.”

  * * * * *

  Marriage

  with Benefits

  By Kat Cantrell

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  One

  Other single, twenty-five-year-old women dreamed of marriageable men and fairy-tale weddings, but Dulciana Allende dreamed of a divorce.

  And Lucas Wheeler was exactly the man to give it to her.

  Cia eyed her very male, very blond and very broad-shouldered target across the crowded reception hall. The display of wealth adorning the crush between her and Lucas bordered on garish. A doddering matron on her left wore a ring expensive enough to buy a year’s worth of groceries for the women’s shelter where Cia volunteered.

  But then, if Cia had the natural ability to coax that kind of cash out of donors, she wouldn’t be here in the middle of a Dallas society party, where she clearly did not belong, about to put plan B into action.

  There was no plan C.

  She knocked back the last swallow of the froufrou drink some clueless waiter had shoved into her hand. After she’d put considerable effort into securing a last-minute invitation to Mrs. Wheeler’s birthday party, the least she could do was play along and drink whatever lame beverage the Black Gold Club pretended had alcohol in it. If she pulled off this negotiation, Mrs. Wheeler would be her future mother-in-law, and Cia did want to make a favorable impression.

  Well, Mrs. Wheeler was also her future ex-mother-in-law, so perhaps the impression didn’t matter overly much.

  A guy near the bar tried to catch her eye, but she kept walking. Tonight, she cared about only one man and, conveniently, he stood next to his mother greeting guests. Cia’s unfamiliar heels and knee-binding slim dress slowed her trek across the room. Frustrating but fortunate, since a giraffe on roller blades had her beat in the grace department.

  “Happy birthday, Mrs. Wheeler.” Cia shook the hand of the stylish, fifty-something woman and smiled. “This is a lovely party. Dulciana Allende. Pleased to meet you.”

  Mrs. Wheeler returned the smile. “Cia Allende. My, where has the time gone? I knew your parents socially. Such a tragedy to lose them at the same time.” She clucked maternally.

  Cia’s smile faltered before she could catch it. Of course Mrs. Wheeler had known her parents. She just didn’t know Cia’s stomach lurched every time someone mentioned them in passing.

  “Lucas, have you met Cia?” Mrs. Wheeler drew him forward. “Her grandfather owns Manzanares Communications.”

  Cia made eye contact with the man she planned to marry and fell headfirst into the riptide of Lucas Wheeler in the flesh. He was so...everything. Beautiful. Dynamic. Legendary. Qualities the internet couldn’t possibly convey via fiber-optic lines.

  “Miz Allende.” Lucas raised her hand to his lips in an old-fashioned—and effective—gesture. And set off a whole different sort of lurch, this time someplace lower. No, no, no. Attraction was not acceptable. Attraction unsettled her, and when she was unsettled, she came out with swords drawn.

  “Wheeler.” She snatched her hand from his in a hurry. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone who so closely resembles a Ken doll.”

  His mother, bless her, chatted with someone else and thankfully did
n’t hear Cia’s mouth working faster than her brain. Social niceties weren’t her forte, especially when it came to men. How had she fooled herself into believing she could do this?

  Lucas didn’t blink. Instead, he swept her from head to toe with a slow, searching glance that teased a hot flush along her skin. With an amused arch to one brow, he said, “Lucky for me I’ve got one up on Ken. I bend all sorts of ways.”

  Her breath gushed out in a flustered half laugh. She did not want to like him. Or to find him even remotely attractive. She’d picked him precisely because she assumed she wouldn’t. As best as she could tell from the articles she’d read, he was like the Casanovas she’d dated in college, pretty and shallow.

  Lucas was nothing but a good-time guy who happened to be the answer to saving hundreds of women’s lives. This marriage would help so many people, and just in case that wasn’t enough of a reason for him to agree to her deal, she’d come armed with extra incentives.

  That reassuring thought smoothed out the ragged hitch to her exhale. Refocusing, she pasted on a smile. His return smile bolstered her confidence. Her business with Lucas Wheeler was exactly that—business. And if she knew anything, it was business. If only her hands would stop shaking. “To be fair, you do look better in a suit than Ken.”

  “Now, I’d swear that sounded like a compliment.” He leaned in a little and cocked his head. “If our parents knew each other, how is it we’ve never met?”

  His whiskey-drenched voice stroked every word with a lazy Texas drawl that brought to mind cowboys, long, hard rides in the saddle and heat. She met his smoky blue eyes squarely and locked her knees. “I don’t get out much.”

  “Do you dance?” He nodded to the crowded square of teak hardwood, where guests swayed and flowed to the beat of the jazz ensemble playing on a raised stage.

  “Not in public.”

  Something flittered across his face, and she had the impression he’d spun a private-dance scenario through his head. Lips pursed, he asked, “Are you sure we haven’t met before?”

  “Positive.”

  And Cia wished circumstances had conspired differently to continue their mutual lack of acquaintance. Men like Lucas—expert at getting under a woman’s skin right before they called it quits—were hazardous to someone who couldn’t keep her heart out of it, no matter what she promised herself.