McClellan Billionaires: The Complete Series
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McClellan Billionaires
The Billionaire’s Pregnant Assistant
The Billionaire Chef’s Baby
The Billionaire’s Ward
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
RELAY PUBLISHING EDITION, OCTOBER 2019
Copyright © 2019 Relay Publishing Ltd.
All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Relay Publishing. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Leslie North is a pen name created by Relay Publishing for co-authored Romance projects. Relay Publishing works with incredible teams of writers and editors to collaboratively create the very best stories for our readers.
www.relaypub.com
McClellan Billionaires
The Complete Series
Leslie North
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(The Complete Series)
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Contents
The Billionaire’s Pregnant Assistant
Blurb
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
End of The Billionaire’s Pregnant Assistant
The Billionaire Chef’s Baby
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
End of The Billionaire Chef’s Baby
The Billionaire’s Ward
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
End of The Billionaire’s Ward
Thank You!
About Leslie
Also by Leslie
Blurb
Connor McClellan knows the worth of a woman. At least in business dealings. Which is why he depends on Rosalie Bridges, the outreach manager from his Aspen office, to pose as his girlfriend when he woos a potential client. Connor’s next client represents the only business he’s ever lost. Gaining them back would make his record perfect. He assumes that Rosalie is available—only to find that she’s pissed off at him and pregnant…with his baby. Their hookup at a previous business meeting was the hottest of his life, and now it’s the most complicated, too. Still, they need to fake this relationship to land the deal. But Rosalie isn’t interested in playing along.
Rosalie has loved Connor from a distance for years, and always thought she’d get her chance to impress him when he came to Aspen. After they’d hooked up, she thought she was making headway, but when Connor sent carnations along with a generic note and didn’t call till he needed her again, she decided she was done being used.
With Connor desperately needing to land this deal, and Rosalie no longer willing to be a part of his fake relationship scheme, a deal of a different kind needs to be struck. Connor gets a week to redeem himself and earn the position of boyfriend, while Rosalie works to prove she deserves a promotion to head the region’s outreach. As much as she wishes to be with Connor and have him help raise their child, she isn’t sure she can risk her heart on a man used to taking others for granted.
But as business and pleasure become further intertwined, Connor realizes for once in his life he’d like this fake relationship to be something more. If the two of them can pull this off, they may land the deal, and the love, to last them a lifetime.
Prologue
Connor McClellan would never admit to any weaknesses. Not in polite conversation, anyway. Certainly not in the middle of a business deal.
But if you plied him with enough really expensive Scotch and demanded his biggest stumbling block, he might, might, admit to being absolutely terrible with names.
Not that it mattered, though. He had Rosalie.
"The Gallums are finally leaving." From the window of the luxe lodge his company, McClellan Technology Group, had rented for the weekend retreat, Connor watched his client help his stumbling, laughing wife pick her way across the heated driveway to their hired car. The first snow of the season capped the surrounding arrow-straight lodge pole pines. Yesterday's snowfall had been a stroke of luck, since Bruce Gallum fancied himself a snowboarder. After few runs down the easy slopes, he’d been ready to sign anything.
He appreciatively inhaled the faint whiff of lilac perfume, smiling at the beautiful woman who'd saved the day.
Rosalie rolled her eyes and laughed. "The Gallums left this morning, Connor." When she tossed her chestnut hair over her shoulder, he caught another whiff of her sweet scent. "The people who stayed way too long were Marcy and John Selkirk."
With anyone else, Connor would have insisted he’d known that. But with Rosalie, he felt content enough to laugh and shake his head. "Please tell me I didn't call Mr. Selkirk 'Bruce' to his face."
He loved it when she smiled. "No, you stuck to your tried and true method of calling every male client ‘sir’ and every female client, ‘ma'am.’ " Her soft brown eyes sparkled. "Knowing their names is my job."
"And you did one hell of a job this weekend, Rosalie." Connor shifted closer.
"As outreach manager or as your fake girlfriend?" Her top teeth snagged her bottom lip. She did it often enough that Conner wondered if she knew its effect on him. "Because in my opinion? I rocked them both equally." With another lilac-scented toss of her hair, she kicked off her heels, her stance loosening.
Without them, Rosalie's head barely came up to Connor's chin. Flushed with the day's success, he wondered, not for the first time, how that luscious body of hers would fit against him. Perfectly, he was pretty sure. "You always rock both jobs," he assured her, giving in to the urge to step closer.
To his surprise, she didn't back away. Tilting her head up, she boldly looked him in the eye. "Do I?"
Connor pressed his lips together. A happy accident had led to their unorthodox arrangement. After a client had assumed he and Rosalie were together, Rosalie had caught his eye before he could correct the elderly, partially blind venture capitalist.
She'd shook her head minutely before welcoming the o
lder man’s wife to dinner. Everyone at the table had visibly relaxed.
Having Rosalie as his pretend girlfriend had greased the wheels of that deal. As it had the next time, when he'd nearly called a cranky CEO by the wrong name until she'd stepped in and smoothed the gaffe over. Thinking quickly, he’d thanked his "beautiful girlfriend" for being his "better half."
After, he had quietly pulled her aside and proposed making this arrangement unofficially official. Whenever Connor was in town, Rosalie played the part of his girlfriend. She smoothed his rough, tech geek edges and kept the conversation flowing. She'd been working this extra "job" successfully for almost a year now. He depended on her. She was necessary.
But when her big eyes widened with unabashed eagerness, he wondered if she’d realized. Did she really not know how necessary she was?
"Of course. Clients like having you here. It makes me seem more accessible." He chuckled, indulging his need to twine a strand of her hair between his fingers. "Which is a pretty big job, I know."
"Huge." Was she flirting?
"Monumental.” God, he hoped so. “Then again, I think you're pretty good at anything you put your mind to. Hell, if we got a chance to pitch to Ventura Enterprises again, there's no way Ed Coney would resist."
Her eyes flashed in understanding. "That still bugs you."
"It's not your fault I flubbed it." Her hair fell through his fingers. One client. His one loss, out of hundreds of wins, still nagged at him. Some nights he lay awake, replaying that failure again and again, looking at it from all angles to plan what he would do differently the next time.
There would be a next time, even if he had to move heaven and earth. He would turn that loss into a win.
It's what he did.
This time, Rosalie would help. "I should have done my research," he told her. "Known that Ed Coney always included his wife. The fact that he only makes decisions with her input is common knowledge. It was my job to know."
"And it was the start of my—" Her pause emphasized the next words, "new position."
She was so close that her breath puffed across his cheek. He leaned forward until his lips hovered inches from hers. "It's your favorite, right?"
Her eyelashes fluttered as understanding dawned. "Why, Mr. McClellan, did you just ask me my favorite position?"
"It's a completely innocent question."
"Is it? Darn." Her eyes twinkled.
"Of course it is." Connor didn't remember the last time he'd flirted so shamelessly. "Just curious about any other jobs"—he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear—"you may have enjoyed."
She pursed her lips, her cheeks hollowing prettily before she laughed. "If you want me to answer that question, I need a drink first." Connor followed right behind her to the vast chef's kitchen—all solid granite and stainless steel—and enjoyed the sway of her hips as she walked. Rosalie’s curves were in all the right places. Places Connor had imagined holding, kneading, squeezing—
"A drink sounds like an excellent idea, actually." He loosened his tie. "We earned it."
"There are a few beers in here. Vince Judson really enjoyed these IPAs; I'll have to remember that." As she searched further back in the fridge, Connor helped himself to an eyeful of her round, firm ass wiggling in the air. "There's the champagne, but we should save it, right?"
"Why?" Connor undid his cufflinks, setting them carefully on the countertop before rolling up his sleeves. "I say we celebrate now."
She emerged with a chilled bottle in hand. "Get me drinking this, and I'll tell you all my secrets."
"Give it here then."
She laughed when he snatched at it, dancing out of reach. He surprised them both when he caught her wrist in his hand and yanked her against him.
At her sharp gasp, he knew she’d felt how hard he was. But she didn't move away. Rising on her tiptoes, she tilted her head until her lips brushed his. "You asked a question."
"I did?" Her nearness was muddling his senses.
"You asked me my favorite position."
His lips brushed against hers now, by accident. "I did."
"If you still want to know, open this?" She nudged the bottle into his hand.
Connor barely glanced at it. His gaze stayed locked on her lips as he popped the cork with a bang. The sound of glass breaking barely registered, especially not when Rosalie took the bottle from his hand and closed her lips around its top. A groan rumbled low in his throat.
Rosalie tilted the bottle up, exposing the curve of her neck as she swallowed a mouthful of the champagne. She lowered it with a giggle. "Woo! Fizzy." She peered at him from under a curtain of dark lashes. "Want some?"
Heat coiled at the base of his spine. Whether she knew what she was doing or not, he could no longer deny that her nearness was affecting him. He reached out and boldly cupped the back of her neck. She mewed but didn't move. Not as he drank from the bottle.
Not as he pressed his lips to hers.
Her lips parted eagerly. She tasted like champagne and strawberries and triumph. Bubbles still fizzed on both their lips, electricity sparking between them. They'd always had sparks. Connor was ready to ignite them.
"Connor." He'd always loved the way she said his name and now he loved the way she felt saying it too. He could feel his name vibrating in her throat as he pressed a line of kisses down from her lips to her jawline. "My favorite position?"
Wrenching his mouth away from her skin, he growled. "Tell me."
She licked her lips invitingly. "On top."
A curse tore from his throat. Sealing his mouth over hers, he pinned her against his body while tugging and tearing at her blouse. Her wild, breathless gasps had him smoldering, but when she batted his hand away to unbutton her blouse with deft fingers, he burst into flames.
"Bedroom," he demanded. He didn’t give her time to respond, sweeping her into his arms and taking the stairs to the lofted master bedroom two at a time.
"Glad I—ah! Reserved the—oh! Lodge instead of the conference center!" Rosalie giggled, finally giving up on speaking between his frantic kisses.
She gasped as he tumbled her on the waiting bed. He unbuttoned his dress shirt, sending buttons flying, and leaped at her.
They crashed together in a tangle of lips, limbs, and gasps. Even with so little champagne, he felt drunk and on top of the world, thanks to Rosalie’s sinuous body pressed against his, her silky skin warm and smooth under his fingertips. “You like it on top?" He kissed down her neck, fastening his mouth to one perfectly pink nipple. "Right?"
She sat up. "I f-forget." Her blush drove him even more wild.
"I didn't."
"You don't forget anything."
"Except people's names—"
She circled a teasing finger between his pecs.
"—but nothing important. Like your favorite position."
"What else?" Her eyes widened as he cupped her breast. "What other important things do you remember?"
Almost out of his mind with need, he still managed to laugh. "Your birthday is October eighteenth, your middle name is Grace, and you're nuts about flowers."
At the wild pleasure on her face, he wished he had it together enough to list off more things about her. But her fingernails raking down his back made thinking impossible. "Do you know my favorite flower?" She sounded almost delirious now.
"Roses?" he guessed. Everyone loved roses, right? And her name was Rosalie. But then he inhaled her lilac shampoo and wondered if he’d made a critical error. He decided to double down. “Even if I’m wrong, roses are the flowers that remind me of you. Gorgeous, perfectly shaped, but thorny if you hold them wrong. How about this, baby? Am I holding you right? You gonna cut me with your thorns?”
He relaxed when she rewarded him with a beautiful smile, and shook her head. “No thorns,” she breathed.
She was so damn beautiful, it hurt. "After today, I plan on getting you ten dozen roses." His breath came faster now. “But I have a few things I want to take care of f
irst."
She drew back, her eyes slit with heavy pleasure, but somehow still sharp, aware and completely in control. Electricity jolted through him. He’d always liked that about her, her intuitive understanding of him. It drew him, the way she seemed to know him better than he even knew himself.
She intoxicated him. “I have one more job for you.” He kept his tone serious, even business-like.
She blinked.
He pressed his hand to her belly. “I want you to lie back.”
“As your outreach manager or fake girlfriend?” Her arch tone drove him crazy.
“However you feel most comfortable.”
She obeyed, but once she'd tumbled back on the comforter, her face fell. “Connor, is this a mistake?" Every protective instinct in his body went on red alert at her piercing vulnerability.
He covered her mouth with his.
“Sure doesn’t feel like one,” he murmured against her lips, sliding his hand between her legs. She groaned and arched into his palm. “And you know”—he kissed his way down between the valley of her breasts, pausing only to tug her skirt and panties down before spreading her thighs wide—“I don’t make mistakes." He winked, bending to taste her for the first time.