Accidental HusbandA Secret Baby Romance

by Nikki Chase

  Accidental Husband

  Nikki Chase

  Copyright © 2017 Nikki Chase

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is for mature readers. It contains sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some.

  All sexual activity in this work is consensual and all sexually active characters are 18 years of age or older.

  Contents

  1. Tessa

  2. Luke

  3. Tessa

  4. Luke

  5. Tessa

  6. Luke

  7. Tessa

  8. Luke

  9. Tessa

  10. Luke

  11. Tessa

  12. Luke

  13. Tessa

  14. Luke

  15. Tessa

  16. Luke

  17. Tessa

  18. Tessa

  19. Luke

  20. Tessa

  21. Luke

  22. Tessa

  23. Luke

  24. Tessa

  25. Luke

  26. Tessa

  27. Luke

  28. Tessa

  29. Luke

  Epilogue

  Bonus: His Virgin

  1. Caine

  2. Daisy

  3. Caine

  4. Daisy

  5. Caine

  6. Caine

  7. Daisy

  8. Daisy

  9. Caine

  10. Daisy

  11. Caine

  12. Daisy

  13. Caine

  14. Daisy

  15. Daisy

  16. Caine

  17. Daisy

  18. Caine

  19. Daisy

  20. Daisy

  21. Caine

  22. Daisy

  23. Daisy

  24. Caine

  25. Caine

  26. Daisy

  27. Caine

  28. Daisy

  29. Caine

  30. Daisy

  31. Caine

  32. Daisy

  33. Daisy

  34. Caine

  35. Daisy

  Bonus: Mountain Man’s Baby Plan

  1. Sophia

  2. Sophia

  3. Eli

  4. Sophia

  5. Sophia

  6. Sophia

  7. Eli

  8. Sophia

  9. Eli

  10. Sophia

  11. Eli

  12. Sophia

  13. Eli

  14. Sophia

  15. Sophia

  16. Eli

  17. Sophia

  18. Sophia

  19. Eli

  20. Sophia

  21. Eli

  22. Sophia

  23. Eli

  24. Sophia

  25. Sophia

  26. Sophia

  27. Eli

  28. Eli

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Tessa

  “I think I’m going to die.” I sit up and groan, resisting the urge to vomit, and shield my eyes from the nasty sunlight streaming through the windows. “Really, this time, my head’s going to explode and I’ll get blood and brains all over these expensive sheets.”

  My best friend Claire is sitting at the end of my bed, and her expression isn’t exactly sympathetic. In fact, it’s fair to say that she’s looking amused at my misery, which isn’t a very nice way for a best friend to behave.

  “Claire! You could at least pretend to care!”

  “You’ve only got yourself to blame, Tess, you sneaky little liar! You told me you wanted to get an early night, and then you slink away and have the wildest night of your life.” She fixes me with a stern look and folds her arms in front of her. “Without me.”

  The wildest night of my life? That’s a pretty high standard to beat, seeing as I’ve already survived a mobster husband.

  I reach for my handbag, every single movement pure agony, and rifle through it until I find some Tylenol. There isn’t any water, so I just swallow them down dry. That doesn’t help my nausea any, but I don’t think I can manage the walk to the bathroom just yet.

  “What are you talking about?” I croak. “What did I do?”

  Last night is still a complete blank, as my mind struggles to catch up through the hangover.

  Claire looks at me with a mixture of pity and amusement.

  “Oh, Tess, this one’s a doozy, it really is. I think you’re going to struggle to ever top it, to be honest. What do you remember?”

  I frown, trying to think back, then immediately stop because it hurts too much.

  Okay, no frowning. In fact, no movement or facial expressions at all.

  “I uh...we had dinner, right? Yeah, and then some guy came and started chatting you up, and I left once the two of you started eating each other’s faces instead of your food.”

  Claire rolls her eyes. “Wow, you have such a way with words. Anyway, yeah, that’s a crude and gross representation of what happened. Thanks for that. You said you were going to go up to the room and soak in the tub, then get an early night, which is the most blatant lie I have ever heard in all my life.”

  She picks up the TV remote and flips through the channels, as if she’s looking for something specific.

  I remember all that. And I remember really looking forward to that bath and then relaxing in this ridiculously comfortable bed with its 1,500 thread-count sheets. It’s not every day I get to experience luxury like this, and I wanted to make the most of it.

  I’m more of a couch-surfing kind of gal. I love to travel, but I don’t have the kind of income that allows me to live it up everywhere I go.

  To be honest, I’m cool with that, and even kind of enjoy the random people and the cool experiences you can have in hostels, but I’m visiting Vegas with Claire this time. Claire would not be found dead in a hostel—she’d freak out at the mere concept.

  She’d insisted we stay at the Bellagio, penthouse suite, her treat. Well, her Dad’s treat. She has access to his credit cards, and she is not afraid to use them.

  The fanciest restaurants, spas and massages, room service whenever we want . . . I’ve actually started to feel kind of guilty imagining the running cost of everything in my head.

  Claire had invited me to visit her, in celebration of me getting the new job I’d been angling for. It was an admin/PA role in one of the big Fortune 500 companies. The salary isn’t anything to write home about, but the opportunities for advancement are amazing.

  After working dead-end jobs for so long, landing it had been A Big Deal. I finally feel like a real grown-up with a real job, and of course the first person I’d called to tell was Claire.

  “Oh my Goddd, that’s amazing!” she’d squealed down the phone. “When do you start?”

  Upon finding out that I still had a week to go, she’d immediately, and without consulting me, booked me flights to visit her in Vegas. And so that’s where I found myself—here in this fancy hotel room, nursing the hangover from hell, and wondering just what the hell I’d done last night to get her so excited.

  Claire is still flipping through channels, until, with an exclamation of excitement, finds what she’s looking for. She
points at the TV and giggles. “Look!”

  My eyes are still kind of blurry, and I blink to try and clear them.

  On the screen, two people. It looks like they are coming out of a chapel. Wait, not just any chapel, one of those tacky 24-hour Vegas chapels.

  “...billionaire investment mogul Luke Alder was spotted last night, around 2 a.m., exiting the world-famous Chapel of the Flowers in Las Vegas, with a mystery woman on his arm. The couple looked happy, and appeared to have just gotten married. How will Luke, who has previously been named as ‘America’s most eligible bachelor’, break the news to his legions of devoted fans? Stick with us for….”

  I tune out the rest of the presenter’s spiel, because I’ve just noticed who the “mystery woman” is on this apparent billionaire’s arm, grinning like a loon.

  It’s me.

  My blood runs cold in my veins, and I feel like vomiting.

  “Does thing thing have DVR?!” I yell at Claire. Forgetting my throbbing head for a second, I lurch forward and wrestle the remote from her hands, rewinding the footage.

  Yep, still me. I look a little wild-eyed and crazy, and definitely a little unsteady on my feet. Not surprising considering that I’d had enough to drink to forget I’d married a complete stranger.

  “Oh my God,” I groan, sinking back into the fluffy pillows. “This can’t be real. It just can’t. What in the name of all that is holy have I done?”

  Claire is grinning at me like this is just the best thing ever. “I know, right? It’s amazing! Honestly, I didn’t think you had it in you, Tess. You’ve always been one of those dependable friends, you know? Someone that I know isn’t going to do something crazy and wild and unpredictable. But this? This is just delicious.”

  I’m on the verge of tears. What are my parents going to say? How can I even face them? If this guy is a big enough deal to be appearing on TV, they might have already heard the news.

  “Claire, please. This is a crisis. You can’t just go around marrying strangers in Vegas.”

  She laughs. “But, don’t you see?! This is Vegas, baby! You can just marry a stranger...and you did!”

  She glances back at the screen, the image of me and my new husband frozen in time.

  “And, to be honest, it’s goddamn Luke Alder. Holy shit, girl! The dude is hot as hell and richer than God.”

  A sly look comes over her face, and she grins at me.

  “So, uh . . . I don’t want to pry or anything, you know me, but . . . how was the wedding night? Did you two lovebirds consummate your marriage, if you know what I mean?”

  Her eyes are shining and she’s just having the best time.

  At least one of us is.

  I groan.

  “I don’t even want to think about…”

  My voice trails off as more fuzzy memories of the night enter unbidden into my mind. Of limbs tangled together in the dark, of soft lips crushing mine in a passionate embrace. A man with a rock-hard body, built like a brick wall. Arms bulging, abs chiseled from stone. And a huge….

  So that’s why I’m kind of sore down there too, huh? Well this just keeps getting better and better.

  I howl in anguish and pull the covers back up over my head. Everything had been going so well. I finally got the job I wanted, finally got some semblance of security and a plan to move my life forward, and now I’ve gone and done this.

  I feel Claire come and sit next to me.

  “Hey, Tessa babe, it’ll be OK. All you need to do is get the marriage annulled, forget it ever happened, and move on with your life. People do it all the time.”

  Her voice is a little more sympathetic now, and I emerge from under the covers, peeking up at her.

  “Really?” I sniff. “Is it as easy as that? I can just sign some forms or something and make this all go away?”

  She shrugs. “I’m not a lawyer, but that’s how it happens on TV shows isn’t it? You just go down to the county courthouse or something.”

  She isn’t exactly inspiring confidence in me with her expert legal knowledge, but there is probably some truth to what she said.

  Claire stands and strides over to the windows and pulls the curtains open. The full glare of the desert sun streams in, searing a hole in my head. I dart back under the covers again until Claire strips them off of me.

  “C’mon, lazy! We only have a couple more days until you need to fly home, and we can’t let something like a silly, little shotgun wedding throw a spanner in the works! Get up, get yourself cleaned up, and we’ll order some breakfast. And maybe a couple Bloody Marys. Everything looks a little better after a Bloody Mary.”

  The thought of alcohol is almost enough to make me hurl on its own, but she’s right. I’m not going to get anything accomplished by laying here feeling sorry for myself all day. Once I’m showered and feel a little more human, I’ll be able to handle this.

  I roll out of bed, wincing at that ache between my legs, and stumble toward the bathroom. Claire is already on the phone ordering room service by the time I’m undressed and have planted myself under the luxuriously hot shower.

  The hot water helps immensely, and I’m grateful for Claire’s Daddy’s credit card. For a moment, I even forget about my predicament.

  Just for a moment, though. As I step out and look in the mirror at my severely hungover face, a sense of despair washes over me again.

  What the hell am I going to do?

  Luke

  “Care to explain yourself?”

  Something hits me in the chest, and I grumble as I peel open my eyes. “Brock, what the fuck, man? Get out of here with that shit.”

  Officially, Brock’s my PR representative. He does way more than that, though. He’s my go-to guy—handy dude, has gotten me out of a lot of scrapes over the years. But right now he’s looking pissed.

  He gestures at what he’s thrown at me. I lift it up and peer at it through bleary eyes—a garish tabloid newspaper.

  He doesn’t give me a chance to read it.

  “What happened last night? Who is this woman? I told you, if you were seeing someone, you were supposed to tell me. In fact, anything happens in your life, you tell me.”

  I shrug nonchalantly. “Whatever happened to privacy?”

  He sighs in frustration and crosses his arms, like a teacher reprimanding a wayward kid. “You lost your privacy the moment Forbes printed your face on the cover. Cosmopolitan called you ‘the most eligible bachelor in the country’. Well, until last night, apparently.”

  I chuckle. I’m rich enough that I could get anyone I want to do my PR for me. Hell, most of the top PR firms would work for me for free, just for the exposure.

  But I like Brock. He calls me out on my shit and doesn’t let me get away with anything, and that’s the kind of guy I need. Especially when things get a little . . . wild, like last night.

  I met her in the Bellagio, down in the casino. She was sitting at the bar, alone, well on her way to being drunk.

  I’d admired her gorgeous hourglass figure from behind for a few moments, before sitting next to her and flashing her the old, time-honored Luke Alder smile.

  Never fails. And if it does, well, the billions of dollars and ripped abs usually do the trick. And if they don’t work . . . well, shit, I’m not exactly lacking for confidence, either. I can talk a woman into bed just as easily as I can impress her with my other gifts.

  Nah, safe to say I was pretty confident about bagging this girl.

  I was expecting her face to light up as soon as she saw me. Almost everyone I ever meet recognizes me as soon as they see me.

  Having your face splashed all over the tabloids on a weekly basis kind of has that side effect. There’s no shortage of beautiful women falling all over themselves to get me into bed, and I am more than happy to oblige.

  This girl was different, though. When I sat next to her she looked me up and down, and although I could tell that she liked what she saw, there was no spark of recognition in her eyes.

  “Wh
at’s a gorgeous woman like you doing drinking alone? Care for some company?”

  She shrugged, playing it cool. “Sure, why not? My so-called friend has found her hook-up for the night, so it looks like I’ve got to make my own fun.”

  I grinned at her. “I like the sound of that. And hey - this is Vegas; no shortage of fun to be had around here.”

  Her eyes lit up at that, and my heart skipped a beat.

  Holy shit, this girl is stunning.

  “I know, right?! I did so much research before I came here, scoped out all sorts of fun shows and stuff, but all my friend wants to do is hook up with strangers.”

  I ordered a whisky on the rocks, and shrugged. “There’s no shame in that. Hooking up with strangers is a lot of fun. In fact–”

  My bad attempt to seal the deal was cut short as she interrupted me. She was looking me straight in the eye, earnest and serious. “You got any plans this evening?”