by Sara Orwig
He said, “You’re early.”
She replied, “So are you.” And now she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was the person who’d sent her the note.
He pulled a hand through his already ruffled hair. “I can tell you’re surprised it was me.”
She was still trying to comprehend it. She was also trying to stop from fixating on his mouth. She even had the weirdly carnal urge to run her tongue along the chiseled edge of his jawline.
“Why did you call yourself Mr. X?” she asked, wishing she wasn’t having such bizarre thoughts about him.
“I heard that you’re a writer, and I thought you might enjoy a bit of intrigue.”
Allison only nodded. Besides being drawn to intrigue, being a freelance writer meant that she could travel and write from anywhere. Working in the States wasn’t a problem for her.
Rand gestured to a small, ornately designed bench adjacent to the statue. “We can sit, if you’d like. Or we can walk through the garden and talk. I’m good either way, as long as we keep our conversation private.”
“Let’s sit.” She didn’t know if she could walk and talk and breathe at the same time, not while she was in his company, anyway.
They made their way to the bench and sat side by side. His big, muscular arm was just centimeters from hers. But with how cozy the bench was, it couldn’t be helped. She should have chosen to stroll along the grounds instead, but she wasn’t going to suggest that they pop up and start walking now.
“Before we get to the green card business, I want to say that I’m sorry for what Rich Lowell did to you,” he began. “He fooled so many of us. Me included. But I didn’t see Rich all that much when he was impersonating Will. He spent more time in Dallas and abroad than he did in Royal.”
She had to ask, “Do you think Rich is really dead? Or do you think there could be more to this than meets the eye?”
“I don’t have all the facts, but I do know that the body was identified by a reliable source who assumed it was Will. So it sure seems as if he should be dead.” He paused for a second and added, “Will told me that the FBI sent the ashes from the urn out for DNA testing. The results aren’t in yet, but it’s probably just routine. Or I hope it is.”
Allison hoped so, too. “I hate that Rich used me the way he did. My heart still hurts from his betrayal, but giving him my life savings makes me feel like a total eejit.” When Rand gave her a perplexed look, she quickly clarified, “Sorry. Irish slang. It means idiot.”
He turned more fully toward her, angling his body on the bench. “I like the way you talk. Your brogue and whatnot.” He playfully added, “Did you know that Irish accents were voted as one of the sexiest in the world?”
Her heart scurried inside her chest. He’d just spun their conversation on its axis, taking it to a flirtatious level. “Who would vote on such a thing?”
“Folks on the internet. I can’t say I disagree. It is rather sexy.”
So was the slightly Southern way in which he talked. Not everyone in Texas sounded that way. He had a naughty twang that sent erotic ripples down her spine. Struggling to maintain her composure, she politely said, “I like your voice, too.”
“That’s good to know.” He furrowed his brow, squinting in the sun. “With what I have in mind, we need to like things about each other.”
Wondering what he meant, she waited for him to expound.
But instead, he asked, “Are you familiar with my position at Spark Energy Solutions?”
“I know that you were the second in command, and that Will was the CEO.” She also knew that it was a highly successful oil and energy company owned by Will’s family. “Initially, you worked under Will’s direction, but you also worked for Rich when you thought he was Will. Then, just recently, you took over as CEO when Will supposedly died. And now you’ll continue being the CEO until he can resume his life.” She tilted her head. “But what does any of that have to do with me getting a green card?”
“I need a wife, Allison. Someone who can help me combat my image and provide what people think is a sense of stability. In the past, the board of directors let my reputation slide. But now that I’m heading up the company, the chairmen are pressuring me to get my act together. They’re even threatening to fire me over it.” He paused for a beat. “There’s already enough uncertainty at work surrounding Will’s stolen identity and how long it’ll be before that gets resolved. The board can’t afford any issues with me.”
Allison could do no more than blink at him. Her mind had gone numb. “Are you suggesting that we marry?”
He nodded. “With the time constraints involved, we should do it as quickly as we can.”
Again, she blinked at him. Rand Gibson was as far from husband material as a man could get. Not only was he a social media sensation, with tons of female followers hanging on his every word and sharing his pictures, his photos were sometimes made into sexy memes, garnering him even more attention.
Allison didn’t follow him on social media because she didn’t want him or anyone else to know that she found him so interesting. But she’d been poking around on his pages for longer than she cared to admit.
He continued, “At first people will be speculating as to whether a country girl like you can keep a playboy like me in line. But we’ll make lots of public appearances and show them that you can.”
She had no idea what keeping a playboy in line was like. She was already paying the price for dallying with a con man, and now she was being propositioned by a drop-dead gorgeous, modern-day Don Juan. The idea of getting close to Rand scared her senseless. He was everything she should be trying to avoid. Hot and seductive, she thought, and oozing with wealth and charm. Just like Rich when she’d first gotten to know him.
“How long would this marriage last?” she asked.
“It takes about three months to get the immigration interview. I have a friend who works for the USCIS, so I can try to pull some strings and get it moved up. He can definitely get your security clearance done faster.”
She wasn’t surprised that someone as well-off and socially connected as Rand would know someone at the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services.
“We’ll have to work out a prenup that’s comfortable for both of us,” he said. “I don’t want things to get sticky later. But either way, after you get your green card and after I prove myself to the board, we can decide when we should split up. We’ll part amicably. Then after the divorce, we can go our separate ways and no one will be the wiser.”
“I’m not interested in a financial settlement, so a prenup wouldn’t be a problem.” Being dependent on Rand to replace what Rich had stolen wasn’t the answer to restoring her self-worth. She would rather make her own way, even if she struggled to do it.
“So what do you think of my idea?” he asked.
She tried not to frown. “Of marrying you? What you’re proposing is considered fraud. If immigration found out that we faked a marriage, there would be penalties involved. I suspect that your friend at the USCIS wouldn’t appreciate you dragging him into a situation like that, either.”
“I know, and that’s why we couldn’t tell anyone the truth, not even our friends or families. In order to make something like this work, we’d have to live the lie.” Rand’s expression turned dark. “The pressure the board of directors is putting on me isn’t just to clean up my act. There’s a company here in Royal that they expect me to bring in as a new client. And if I don’t secure that account, I’ll be ousted for sure. I’ve been trying to set up meetings with the other company, but their CEO hasn’t responded to my calls. From what I’ve been told, he has concerns about my reputation, too.”
“And you think having a wife will help?”
“It’s the only solution I can think of that will improve my image in a quick and noticeable way.” His expression grew even stormier. “
You know what makes it worse? My father was always telling me that I was too much of a party animal to be taken seriously, that someday my behavior would come back to bite me in the butt. He criticized me every chance he got, even when I was a kid.”
Allison considered how much information Rand was sharing. Rich used to confide in her, too. But all of his confessions were lies. She hoped Rand wasn’t embellishing his tales to create a false sense of intimacy. Although she didn’t doubt that he needed a wife, just how far would he go to get one?
“Where is your father now?” she asked.
“He died last year, but I’ve been feeling the brunt of his words more than ever now. I swear I can just hear him saying, ‘I told you so,’ along with everyone else who’s convinced I’m not worthy of my job.”
She couldn’t hear anything but the frustration in his voice. “Are you sure that people will even believe that we’re a true couple?”
“Granted, we’ll be an unlikely match, but you know what they say about opposites attracting.” He winked at her. “Especially if we show everyone how desperate we are for each other.”
Allison’s thoughts scrambled. Was their desperate union supposed to include sharing the same bed? Was that part of the plan of them seeming like a genuinely married couple? Just thinking about it was sending her into a tailspin.
She wanted to remain in the States, to defy the odds, to get her green card. But could she marry Rand? A man she didn’t even know if she could trust?
Copyright © 2018 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Notorious playboy Nolan Madaris is determined to escape his great-grandmother’s famous matchmaking schemes, but Ivy Chapman, the woman his great-grandmother has picked out for him, is nothing like he expects—and she’s got her own proposal for how to get their meddling families off their backs and out of their love lives!
Read on for a sneak peek of
BEST LAID PLANS,
the latest in New York Times bestselling author Brenda Jackson’s
MADARIS FAMILY SAGA!
Best Laid Plans
by Brenda Jackson
Prologue
Christmas Day
Nolan Madaris III took a sip of his beer while standing on the balcony of his condo. Leaning against the rail, he had a breathtaking view of the exclusive fifteen-story Madaris Building that was surrounded by a cluster of upscale shops, restaurants and a beautiful jogging park with a huge man-made pond. The condos where he lived were right across from the water.
The entire complex, including the condos, had been architecturally designed, engineered and constructed by the Madaris Construction Company that was owned by his cousins Blade and Slade. For the holidays, the Madaris Building and the surrounding shops, restaurants and jogging park were beautifully decorated with colorful, bright lights. It was hard to believe a new year was just a week away.
When Nolan had arrived home from his cousin Lee’s wedding, he hadn’t bothered to remove his tuxedo. Instead he’d headed straight for the refrigerator, grabbed a beer and proceeded to the balcony for a bit of mental relaxation. But all his mind could do was recall the moment his ninetysomething-year-old great-grandmother, Felicia Laverne Madaris, had finally cornered him at the reception that evening. She was a notorious matchmaker, and he’d been avoiding her all night. Her success rate was too astounding to suit him—and she had calmly warned him that he was next.
He was just as determined not to be.
Nolan, his brother, Corbin, and his cousins Reese and Lee had all been born within a fifteen-month period. They were as close as brothers and had been thick as thieves while growing up. Mama Laverne swore her goal was to marry them all off before she took her last breath. They all told her that wouldn’t happen, but then the next thing they knew, Reese had married Kenna and today Lee married Carly.
What bothered Nolan more than anything about his great-grandmother setting her schemes on him was that she of all people knew what he’d gone through with Andrea Dunmire. Specifically, the hurt, pain and humiliation she had caused him. Yes, it had been years ago and he had gotten over it, but there were some things you didn’t forget. A woman ripping your heart out of your chest was one of them.
His cell phone rang. Recognizing the ringtone, he pulled it out of his pocket and answered, “Yes, Corbin?”
“Hey, man, I just wanted to check on you. We saw you tear out of here like the devil himself was after you. It’s Christmas and we thought you would stay the night at Whispering Pines and continue to party like the rest of us.”
Whispering Pines was their uncle Jake’s ranch. Nolan took another sip of his beer before saying, “I couldn’t stay knowing Mama Laverne is already plotting my downfall. You wouldn’t believe what she told me.”
“We weren’t standing far away and heard.”
Nolan shook his head in frustration. “So now all of you know that Mama Laverne’s friend’s granddaughter is the woman she’s picked out for me.”
“Yes, and we got a name. Reese and I overheard Mama Laverne tell Aunt Marilyn that your future wife’s name is Ivy Chapman.”
“Like hell the woman is my future wife.” And Nolan couldn’t care less about her name. He’d never met her and didn’t intend to. “All this time I thought Mama Laverne was plotting to marry the woman’s granddaughter off to Lee. She set me up real good.”
Corbin didn’t say anything and Nolan was glad because for the moment he needed the silence. It didn’t matter to him one iota that so far every one of his cousins whose wives had been selected by his great-grandmother were madly in love with their spouses and saw her actions as a blessing and not a curse. What mattered was that she should not have interfered in the process. And what bothered him more than anything was knowing that he was next on her list. He didn’t want her to find him a wife. When and if he was ready for marriage, he was certainly capable of finding one on his own.
“You’ve come up with a plan?” Corbin interrupted Nolan’s thoughts to ask.
Nolan thought of the diabolical plan his cousin Lee had put in place to counteract their great-grandmother’s shenanigans and guaranteed to outsmart Mama Laverne for sure. However, in the end, Lee’s plan had backfired.
“No, why waste my time planning anything? I simply refuse to play the games Mama Laverne is intent on playing. What I’m going to do is ignore her foolishness and enjoy my life as the newest eligible Madaris bachelor.”
He could say that since, at thirty-four, he was ten months older than Corbin, who would be next on their great-grandmother’s hit list. “By the time I make my rounds, there won’t be a single woman living in Houston who won’t know I’m not marriage material,” Nolan added.
Corbin chuckled. “That sounds like a plan to me.”
“Not a plan, just stating my intentions. I refuse to let Mama Laverne shove a wife that I don’t want down my throat just because she thinks she can and that she should.”
After ending the call with his brother, Nolan swallowed the last of his beer. Like he’d told Corbin, he didn’t have a plan and wouldn’t waste time coming up with one. What he intended to do was to have fun; as much fun as any single man could possibly have.
A huge smile touched his lips as he left the balcony. Walking into his condo, he headed for his bedroom. Quickly removing the tux, he changed into a pair of slacks and a pullover sweater. The night was still young and there was no reason for him not to go out and celebrate the holiday.
As he moved toward his front door, he started humming “Jingle Bells.” Let the fun begin.
One
Fifteen months later…
Nolan clicked off his mobile phone, satisfied with the call he’d just ended with Lee about his cousin’s newest hotel, the Grand MD Paris. Construction of the huge mega-structure had begun three weeks ago. Already it was being touted by the media as the hotel of the future, and Nolan would have to agree
.
Due to the hotel’s intricate design and elaborate formation, the estimated completion time was two years. You couldn’t rush grandeur, and by the time the doors opened, the Grand MD Paris would set itself apart as one of the most luxurious hotels in the world.
This would be the third hotel Lee and his business partner, DeAngelo Di Meglio, had built. First there had been the Grand MD Dubai, and after such astounding success with that hotel, the pair had opened the Grand MD Vegas. Since both hotels had been doing extremely well financially, a decision was made to build a third hotel in Paris. The Grand MD Paris would use state-of-the-art technology while maintaining the rich architectural designs Paris was known for.
Slade, the architect in the Madaris family, had designed all three Grand MD hotels. Nolan would have to say that Slade’s design of the Paris hotel was nothing short of a masterpiece. Slade had made sure that no Grand MD hotel looked the same and that each had its own unique architecture and appeal. Slade’s twin, Blade, was the structural engineer and had spent the last six months in Paris making sure the groundwork was laid before work on the hotel began. There had been surveys that needed to be completed, soil samples to analyze, as well as a tight construction schedule if they were to meet the deadline for a grand opening two years from now. And knowing Lee and DeAngelo like he did, Nolan expected the Grand MD Paris to open its doors on time and to a fanfare of the likes of a presidential inauguration.
After getting a master’s graduate degree at MIT, Nolan had begun working for Chenault Electronics at their Chicago office. Chenault Electronics was considered one of the top ten electronics companies in the world. The owner, Nicholas Chenault, was a family friend, had taken Nolan under his wing and had not only been his boss but his mentor, as well.
After working for Chenault for eight years, Nolan had returned to Houston three years ago to start his own company, Madaris Innovations.
