He pressed his lips together. "Is Jennifer here?"
Vicki crossed her arms. "Not yet. She is invited. Don't break her and Rafe up because you're lonely, big brother. There is more to life than sex."
The friends-with-benefits relationship he shared with Jennifer for the years his sister supposedly had been dead as Jennifer had reminded him of Vicki. Jennifer never had his sister's good heart, but she had been a link to memories of when his sister had been happy.
A picture of Jennifer formed in his mind. Their break up, at Jennifer's insistence, had been one of the highlights of this year. He shook his head. "I won't, and I'm not lonely."
Vicki shook her head no. John and Colt chose that moment to join them near the patio door. John slapped him on the back and laughed. Then Vicki said, "You live in dad's mausoleum on Starr Island and work in that office of yours far too late."
"I was in Beijing, taking care of business."
His brother and sister clearly had both decided to interfere with his life and intentions for the future. Peter stood straighter. He had forgotten what families were supposed to be like until they had barged back into his life.
He sipped his drink. "And unlike you two, I don't have a fiancée or wife. I get to go home with any single lady I want."
Colt wrapped his arms around Victoria. "Life is better with someone, Peter. A good woman would do wonders for you."
His sister glowed with happiness. Marriage was not in his life plan. His own mother hadn't wanted him anymore, so why would he take in any woman? He'd stockpile as much of the Morgan finances as he could and leave it to his nieces and nephews. A wife would be a weight his heart didn't need. He pressed his lips together and hoped this didn't make him like their father.
Peter shook his head. "There are more than one ‘some ones’ out there."
John crossed his arms, and had the same expression Vicki had a moment ago. "My brother is incapable of dating only one woman for long. We all know that."
Women were all disappointments and they left. Their father had taunted him the day his mother walked out the door as he said, ‘women are playtoys for men like us.' He had seen her walk out the front door from the marble staircase that she had passed on her way out. They had stared at each other on her journey, and even then their mother hadn't stayed to protect them. She hadn't even said goodbye, and her brown eyes still haunted him.
The door chimed. Alice held John's baby as she opened the door. His brother's face warmed from one glance at his wife and son. Alice had been involved in their family all their lives as Vicki's best friend, and she'd had a lifelong crush on John until he had finally been smart enough to marry her. No girl like that existed for Peter, not that he wanted one.
A second later, Alice walked into the front room with Jennifer and Rafe. Alice, radiated happiness, almost like his sister. Neither one of his siblings remembered Mom. That had probably helped them to be open to marriage. Peter's brown eyes glanced at Jennifer as her new/old boyfriend's arm held hers. Rafe was a good officer, an old high school friend of sorts, and Peter respected him.
He turned to John and said, "I am fully capable of dating one woman."
"Woah. I clearly missed something," Colt quickly said. "But I'd put money on that."
Peter's muscles tightened. He straightened his spine and said, "What's the bet?"
John clapped him on his shoulder, again. "You have to date someone we choose for a month."
His eyes widened. "You choose?"
John then stood across from him and met his stare. "It has to be a challenge for you. We don't want you tolerating some girl who sees dollar signs for a month."
"A girl that money doesn't impress doesn't exist." Everyone had a price, even if they didn't know what it was.
Peter imagined some religious girl set to be a nun as the choice in question. He massaged his shaved chin. "Okay, if I agree to this, what do I get?"
John and Colt shared a look with Vicki. His sister held her fiancé's hand as John said, "Ten percent of my small stake in the company. You get even more majority ownership without question on the board."
Colt nodded and added, "I'll throw in something. We'll increase production on my farm by at least twenty-five percent, and you'll get that as part of the already existing contract with no extra clauses."
They were both serious about this. Peter licked his lips. "And if I lose?"
John then glanced at Vicki. "You give ten percent of your ownership to Victoria. Dad screwed her in the will and wasn't giving her money all her life. She has millions instead of billions. You can correct that."
Peter assumed their father had thought Vicki dead, but he might not have. Mitch Morgan had played his family and kept close tabs on all of them until he died. He widened his stance. "The corporations are mine."
"Without question." John took a step forward.
Peter squared his shoulders, ready for battle.
Then Colt said, "Is it a bet?"
His brother's small stake in the company meant no one might question or undermine his orders. He swallowed and stared at Vicki. He'd take care of his sister no matter what. This bet was easy. No woman on earth existed that didn't have certain expectations and a playbook. All he had to do was figure out the woman's desires and then ensure she had everything.
His thoughts made him predatory, as Vicki would say, but it was just how he saw things. He shrugged, like nothing mattered. "Name the girl."
John dropped his arms to his side, "Oh, it's on."
Vicki's head went back and forth between John and Colt. "I will pick someone I'd like for a sister-in-law."
Peter swayed on his feet. "You're in on this too?"
She nodded. "Now I am. Peter, don't turn out like dad. I want you to be happy."
Her blonde hair and blue eyes warmed his heart. Vicki deserved everything she ever wanted.
He smiled at her, "I am."
She batted her eyes. "Fulfilled is a better word. You deserve to be in love."
The doorbell rang again. John joined his wife near the door and answered it together. A tall, thin brown-haired, browned-eyed woman stood in the door. Colt stood straighter, and as a result, Peter did too.
In her simple black dress and white dewy skin, she seemed the opposite of everyone here from Miami. The woman wore no makeup and stood tall. Her hands were clenched at her side, and there was something different about her.
He licked his lips. No one else here looked like her. Vicki hit her fiancé's stomach and said, "Belle. She's perfect."
Peter nodded.
John then returned to their group with the woman in question. "Colt, Vicki, your friend Belle Jordan is here."
The air around him smelled like apples.
John pointed to Belle and Colt nodded.
Vicki hugged the woman like they were old friends. Belle's grimace read like she didn't agree. Peter's shoulders tensed. Whoever this Belle was, she was new. He had never met her, though she knew Colt. And something inside him burst as he stared at her profile.
She pushed a piece of hair behind her ear and stepped out of the hug. Her shoulder had a thin, old scar like she'd been cut, and she didn't try to hide it. He fingered his chin. Every other woman in the party would have demanded plastic surgery to remove something like that.
Peter then couldn't stop himself and he asked, "What happened to your shoulder?"
Belle fiddled with her hair again. "I pulled Colt here out of a mine field he found himself in. The razor fence got me."
Colt nodded. "I'd not be alive if not for you."
Vicki then smiled brighter. "I’m forever in your debt. Belle, we're so happy you came."
Peter watched the exchange and understood. Belle was Colt's old fiancée. As he saw Belle's grimace, and how she held herself stiff and unmoving, she confirmed who she was.
How she held her arms around her waist, but still gave off a sense of strength took his breath away.
John poked his side. "We all agree. Belle is the
bet."
His stomach clenched as he stared at this tall, thin woman. He'd never be able to give any woman the man his sister married. Now, more than ever, he'd have to win. He turned away from gawking. All women had their price. He'd figure out hers. Fast.
Chapter Three
Belle's entire body stayed tense as she wandered through the mansion. On the wall hung original paintings she had seen at museums. She hugged her stomach again. No wonder Colt chose Victoria. The Morgans had serious money. She had bare walls, half dead plants, and two bedrooms. The balcony overlooking the bay was reminiscent of Venice.
In class and upbringing, she'd never have a shot at true love. She rubbed the goose bumps on her arms as she sighed and gazed at a Monet. She'd seen it at the Smithsonian with a borrowed sign. They must have borrowed from the Morgans.
In Miami, and in the House of Morgan, the warm sunshine of the day ensured the evenings were pleasant and warm. Every Morgan must have enjoyed extravagance and money provided without once struggling.
Next to the Monet was a Van Gogh. She leaned closer to inspect. They must be the originals. The Morgans owned a chunk of the world's economy, and this luxury must be why Victoria thought it was fine to lie to everyone about dying. Belle would never be so reckless. She took care of herself and her family with hard work and determination.
Colt stepped away from his gorgeous blue-eyed bride to come over. Belle averted her gaze from the Van Gogh to the next painting. She wasn't sure of the painter as the signature was illegible, but it seemed familiar. She straightened her shoulders.
As she smelled Colt's cologne in the air, no pang in her heart came. She still stiffened like she was about to go into battle as he nodded and stood beside her. "We're glad you're here."
Her muscles jumped out of her skin. "Glad I could be here."
"Belle, I truly hope you can be happy."
His big eyes held something unsaid. Whatever it was, it wasn't her problem. Not anymore. If he didn't want her here, then he shouldn't have sent two invitations.
She polished a speck of dirt off her wrist. "Great. I hope the same thing. Your Victoria is waiting for you over there."
"I love her. She loves me. You are so great. I'm sure you'll be next to fall in love and find happiness."
No chance of that happening to her. She couldn't have swallowed if she tried at the moment. There was a pain in her throat.
She nodded, though the cords in her neck were tight. "Okay, perfect. Thank you so much. You should go now."
"I will. If you ever need me, I'm still your friend."
She winced. In the desert, he was one of the few people she knew without a doubt had her back. She shivered and held a whimper in her voice. "We were always that, weren't we?"
“Yes and I hope we still can be.”
“I’m here. The rest we’ll see.”
As soon as she could, she slipped out of the gallery hall and onto the patio. People in colorful dresses milled outside as they sipped colorful drinks. She held her hand up and bit one of her nails. A beer would suit her fine.
Heat washed through her. Then with a tremble, it slowed. The dark-haired, brown-eyed muscular man in a suit, who had stood next to Colt in the room, now walked over and slipped out the door. She clenched her hands at her side as he came and stood next to her.
He licked his lips. "Would you like a drink?"
Her shoulders went up like they'd serve as a shield. "How do I know it's not drugged?"
"Yes, this is Florida, but drugs aren't my scene." He swallowed. "You were hugging my sister, Vicki. I'll introduce myself. I'm Peter Morgan, and you are?"
"You're the Peter Morgan?"
The Morgan family was old money, and his name appeared in Fortune 500 regularly. His political candidates, with the sizable donations he offered, could outweigh any organized lobby effort. Her boss had set a clear rule to avoid the corporations that might interfere with their agenda. Morgan Enterprises was on the list. Despite the tension running through her muscles, she gripped her hands together and stood still.
"Your company is in contract negotiations with Century Arms to help supply the army?"
He scratched his chin. "I think so, but that’s a very small part of my business. And your name is?"
A man like this one could have anyone he wanted. The smell of oak trees washed through her. She lifted her chin. "Belle Jordan. I work in contracts for Century Arms."
His mouth opened. "So you are the Belle Jordan once engaged to Colt Collins?"
Her lips pursed. "The same. Can I get you the drink now?"
"I suppose. I usually get the lady her drink."
“Welcome to the twenty first century.” Billionaire playboys shouldn't smell like oak trees. He inched closer to her and more goose bumps spread and were probably on every inch of her skin now.
"Tell you what. Why don’t we go together to the bar and watch the drink get poured.”
“Safe.” As they strolled, she winked, “Don’t trust a woman then. I understand. You should protect your virtue at all costs.”
A smile grew on his face. “I'm surprised you're here for the wedding."
Men like this did not talk to girls like her. She swallowed as they stopped near bar stools. "You and me both."
“I’ll have a dirty martini.” She told the bartender.
Peter nodded. “Make that two then.”
“I thought rich men like yourself drink whiskey neat or cognac.”
“I can live dangerously.” Drinks were ordered and she turned toward Peter. He was so close he might touch her bare arms at any moment.
“That’s good for you. I prefer a more sedate life these days. I’m sure my interests are too simple for you.”
“Interesting. You want simple.” Fire grew inside her as he asked, "Let’s do that. Do you like what you do?"
Perhaps she hadn't just said Century Arms or that she ensured the military had the best options available in weapons. Her mind swirled. She didn't have to say anything. He would have no idea what she did. She pressed her lips together. "I like ensuring I have a roof over my head, that my father can take cruises whenever he wishes now, and that I have a semblance of security."
He tilted his head closer. "I pay people to handle security for me, but I'm surprised Century Arms affords you all that."
She stood still, unsure if she wanted to leave. A warm breeze brushed against her spine.
"I am good at what I do, and I like to do things for myself."
The bartender offered them both their drinks. His gaze narrowed. "Are you always this dry?"
There it was, right on schedule. Men who had everything were usually the worst lots to speak to.
"Yes. I'm quite boring. You should leave now and save yourself the trouble of talking to me. I'm quite sure someone here will find you interesting, like that dark haired beauty who keeps staring."
He didn’t blink in the direction she pointed. His entire focus was on her. She could hardly breath as he said, "I meant dry as in funny and interesting."
Funny wasn’t a word that was usually linked to her. His hands went into his pockets. She glanced at his face and saw the dimples appear. "Ahh. Well then, next time be clear."
"Boom. You don't hold back punches."
‘Go away' was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit her lip closed. Her skin zapped near him. She rubbed her neck. "No, I don't like to waste my time or anyone else's."
"You're not a waste of time."
He must be kidding. His soft voice was sexy. She wouldn't be charmed. She rolled her eyes. "Sure thing, Romeo."
A waiter walked past them with a tray full of champagne. He picked two glasses up and handed one to her. She took a deep breath and accepted the glass. The air around her at the moment was magnetic. She couldn't walk away from him right now.
“This is a lot of alcohol.”
“Drunk women don’t interest me, but I’m sure you can choose what you want.”
She took the champagne as both th
eir martinis were untouched. It seemed a waste, but she held her tongue. As the waiter left, Peter clinked their glasses together. "Cheers."
Was this because they had spoken for more than a minute? She had never spoken to a man that made her stomach get butterflies.
She sipped her glass. "To what?"
"To our new friendship."
She stepped away. Peter Morgan and the entire Morgan family would never be her friends. But being near Peter caused adrenaline to pump through her veins. She'd have to call Emily and find out what was taking her friends so long to arrive.
She needed backup, but right now she shook her head. "We have a friendship? This fast? I’m flattered."
"Belle Jordan, I'd prefer to keep you on the friend list. I'd hate to have you as an enemy."
Enemies were almost easier to handle than her attraction with the head of the Morgan family. She sipped her drink again. "I don't do friendships much with strange men I meet at parties who I’ll never see again."
He brushed his arm against her. "Take a chance. I'll get us out of this party early, and we can go get dinner."
The door would be lovely. Colt kissed his new bride's cheek, and the woman's smile grew. Her lips tingled near Peter. If she left with him, she'd be in worse trouble. She gulped her drink. "Okay. I came to make an appearance. If you can get us out in five minutes, I'm in for dinner."
"Consider it done."
That was the opposite of what she had intended to say. Peter walked away to go speak to Colt. She squared her shoulders and sipped her drink. None of these people knew her. She was safe in a crowd. She swallowed. Alone with a man like Peter, she might act out of character.
A woman with long, black hair and a body meant for a super model almost knocked the practically empty drink out of Belle's hand. She flipped her messy mop of hair away from the glamazon.
The woman pouted and then glared. "Watch where you are going."
Belle clutched her drink stem. "You ran into me."
She'd have definitely been the poster child for the in-crowd of high school. The woman posed with one leg out to her side, like a ballerina about to take off.
Secret Bet (The House of Morgan) Page 2
