Famously Engaged

by Robyn Thomas

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013 by Robyn Thomas. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 109

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

  Edited by Ann Kopchik & Erin Molta

  Cover design by Libby Murphy

  Prologue

  “My wedding gown is exquisite. It’s so flattering and I loved it from the moment Beth pointed it out, but finding the perfect maid-of-honor dress for her has taken a lot longer. I finally found one online. It’s vintage, an absolute one-off, and Beth looks like a goddess in it. Wait, I’ll send you a photo.”

  Jake Olsen clicked open the e-mail from his half sister and reeled back as a near-naked woman filled his computer screen.

  On closer inspection, the dark-haired beauty was fully clothed, but the fabric of her gown was the exact shade of her skin and it fit her like a glove. Lust strangled his vocal cords and fisted his hands.

  “You’ve gone quiet,” Skyla said. “Did you get the photo? That’s Beth, who I’m always talking about. She’s too busy to shop so I’m so glad I found a dress that looks like it’s made for her.

  Brad’s spending every second he can with her at the moment.

  I never imagined I’d be friends with his ex-wife, but Beth’s a sweetheart. She’s organizing every detail of my dream wedding aboard a yacht, and even booked the honeymoon. The only thing she overlooked was a fabulous dress for herself.”

  The green-eyed goddess was the groom’s ex-wife?

  “Why are you letting your fiancé spend all of his free time with his ex-wife? Are you out of your freaking mind?”

  Skyla laughed.

  “Beth divorced Brad because she wasn’t in love with him. She’s not a threat, and my sanity was fine until my boss got the wrong idea about my fiancé and one of my best friends. Can I say ‘keep your opinion to yourself’ and still keep my job, oh mega— famous rock star? Too late, I think I already did.”

  He was tempted to tell her that her job had been created just for her, that they shared DNA. But the timing was wrong. She was about to get married and her husband-to-be was spending far too much time with his ex-wife. A famous half-brother would just be one more thing to deal with.

  “Tell me more about Beth. Why does she look sad in the photo?”

  “Her mum’s really sick. Brad hangs out at their house because they’ve known each other forever. Her mother can’t walk anymore and Beth can’t lift her, so Brad helps out when the aide isn’t there. He also makes sure Beth eats and sleeps and takes a break occasionally. They’ve been inseparable for years, and their fierce loyalty to each other is my favorite thing about them because they’ve extended it to include me. I never had much family. Brad and Beth are best friends and she’s like a sister to me.”

  His heart kicked. He was related to Skyla, and how he wished he could tell her so he could say straight up that she should not be marrying a man who was clearly still hung up on his ex-wife.

  Beth was beautiful and generous and troubled, and her ex-husband appeared to be circling her like a buzzard.

  “Ooh, hang on for a second,” Skyla said. “Brad just walked in.” The phone clunked and she put him on speaker. “Hey, babe. How’s Beth? Did you pass along the hug I sent?”

  “I went one better,” Brad said. “I got a masseuse to come to the house and work the knots out of her neck and shoulders. You know Beth. She stores all of her angst there. Who’s on the phone?”

  “No one. Just my boss again.”

  Jake scowled. It was easy to see where he ranked in importance.

  “Get rid of him. I need to discuss something with you.”

  “Is it about Beth?”

  Who else? No doubt Brad had devised a way to increase his time with her.

  “I think one of us should move in with her, temporarily,” Brad said. “Of course, it’ll be easier if it’s me because I’ve lived there before.”

  Jake could not help himself as he shouted, “You are not moving in with your ex-wife ten days before you marry Skyla.”

  Silence greeted his intrusion into their private conversation, then Brad piped up. “Not that it’s any of your business, but if you knew what a sweetheart Beth is, you’d understand.”

  Jake nearly exploded through the phone lines.

  “I’ve heard nothing but Beth, Beth, Beth from you for weeks now and frankly it borders on obsession. You might want to concentrate on your fiancée instead of your ex-wife in the lead-up to your wedding.”

  “Skyla’s fine with me moving in with Beth, aren’t you, babe, and my living arrangements won’t affect her work so you don’t need to worry.”

  Jake’s anger spiked as Brad slammed the phone down in his ear. He wasted no time in placing a call to his manager, his mind racing to devise a solution while he explained Skyla’s predicament. It was his duty as her big brother to make sure she married a man who cared about her, and so far things were sounding a little dodgy. He was concerned for Beth as well. The two women were both affected by Brad’s inability to move on after his first marriage.

  “Look at the photo I e-mailed to you,” Jake said. “I need to get over there. Can you come up with a reason for me to fly to Melbourne?”

  His manager chuckled. “Slow down, buddy. I know Skyla is important to you, but you’re making a lot of assumptions about Brad’s motives.”

  “Oh c’mon. Look how gorgeous his ex-wife is. He’s got her planning his wedding, he’s over at her house all the time, and he talks about her constantly. Now he’s planning to move in with her on the pretext of helping to care for her sick mother. How long before sharing a house becomes sharing a bed?

  “I can’t stand by and allow his attachment to Beth to jeopardize Skyla’s happiness. I’ll take her out of the equation if necessary.”

  His manager laughed. “Murder is illegal in Australia, as far as I know.”

  “I’ve got something better than murder in mind. I’m going to give Beth a fiancé of her own, and keep her so busy that she won’t be available for the pre-wedding affair Brad is obviously planning to indulge in.”

  “Are you going to be her fiancé?”

  “Yeah. I am. I’m intrigued, I admit it. The Emperors have a pact to stay single, but this is an opportunity to push those boundaries. I want to see for myself if Beth is as amazing as Skyla and Brad say she is.”

  “Hmm…”

  “I want you to hire a detective to delve into Beth’s background so that I know everything there is to know. Then schedule whatever you can in the next 48 hours so I’m ahead of the game when I fly out.” He dragged a hand back through his hair and waited for it to resettle. “In the meantime, use your contacts to leak an engagement story to the press—something wildly romantic that will capture everyone’s attention—but not until I’m on my way there.” He snapped his fingers. “A bridal lottery where Miss Average wins her way into rock royalty.”

  “This Beth woman could be innocent, Jake. Why do you want to set the media on her?”

  “I want to use the media to limit Brad’s contact with her. She divorced him, so she shouldn’t be holding on too tight. It has to be him. A temporary engagement will give her some space, especially if he’s crowding her.

  “I’ll move in, arrange for medical assistance if her m
other needs it, and stay out of sight so no one will know I’m there. The press will drop the story when they can’t confirm it, and Beth can resume her life without Brad’s constant presence.”

  Jake ignored the stubborn silence that greeted him.

  “If we’re going to give your one-night-only reputation a drastic shove toward matrimony, it will affect a lot of people. You might want to run this bridal lottery idea past the other band members. And Christophe!”

  “I’m not consulting my publicist on this, and it has nothing to do with the other Emperors. I’ll move in with Beth, you’ll leak the engagement story, and then Christophe can fly in and contain it. There’s no need to tell anyone what we’re planning. Worst-case scenario—I’ll be unavailable for a few days while I’m engaged to Cinderella.”

  Jake hung up.

  Beth. The name whispered through him like a caress, igniting a hunger for more information. Was her name a shortened version of Elizabeth or Bethany? Would she be as soft as she looked? As sexy? Would she wear that dress for him? His need to know, to look into those wide green eyes and probe the secrets they held, made him ache to begin their engagement immediately.

  Chapter One

  Pungent smoke billowed through the kitchen, and tears of frustration stung Beth’s eyes. What a day: a funeral, cremated steak for dinner, and now the smoke alarm was blaring.

  Flinging the windows open, she shuddered as a blast of icy air rushed in. Ugh, winter was early in Melbourne this year. She kicked off her slippers and dragged a ladder into position under the smoke alarm.

  The alarm shut off, but her phone and doorbell were both still ringing. Perched barefoot atop the ladder she gritted her teeth.

  “Another perfect hat trick. I’m burning the house down, my ex-husband is making his twelfth call of the day, and some moron is at the door.”

  She swiped her cordless phone off the bench and answered it as she hurried down the hall that divided her house into two mirror-image halves.

  “You’re not moving in,” she told the caller. “And you can’t come over for dinner either, because I’ve just set it alight. If you want to read me the riot act about nutrition and balance then you’d better make it snappy. Someone’s at the door and my kitchen smells like molten saucepan and burned butter.”

  Silence greeted her confession and she paused with her hand on the doorknob. “It’s you, isn’t it? You’re at my front door and I’ve just told you all that for nothing.”

  Without waiting for a response, she swung the heavy oak door open and gaped at a handsome stranger with a mobile phone pressed to his ear. Six feet of gorgeous masculinity graced her doorstep, broad shoulders filling out an overcoat that looked tailor-made. Any woman would be proud to have blond hair as lustrous and artfully styled as his, but the hard lines of his face and the intensity in his hazel eyes were one hundred percent male.

  She’d never met anyone so arresting, and speech eluded her. He raised his chin, the smooth motion shifting the heavy fall of hair across his forehead to settle just clear of his eyes.

  She didn’t want to be impressed. She was.

  A smile softened his chiseled features as he tucked his phone into the inside pocket of his overcoat. “Ah, the face of indecision. Which part are you reconsidering? Dinner? Or moving in?”

  She blinked in surprise at his fancy English accent, then laughed when she saw the suitcases near his feet. “It looks as if you’re serious about moving in, but you’ll have to take a number.”

  His lips twitched and he offered her his hand.

  “Go ahead and stare,” he said when she failed to take it. “Get it out of your system.”

  Dragging her attention away from the sensual curve of his mouth, she grabbed his hand and pumped it. “I was looking at your hair. It’s a dozen different shades of blond and probably takes an hour to style each morning, but needs trimming.”

  Disbelief flashed across his features and he made a choking sound that might’ve been a laugh. “Millions would disagree.”

  “Millions, huh? That’s impressive. Look, I appreciate you— and your hair—stopping by, but I’ve got plans for an early night and I’m afraid they don’t include you.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she didn’t give him a chance. “I know my friends are persuasive and they’re convinced I shouldn’t be alone tonight, but a stranger on my doorstep is the last thing I need. I’m sorry they’ve wasted your time.” She shrugged. “Despite what they might’ve told you, you’re not welcome here.”

  He flashed even white teeth at her as he chuckled and leaned closer. “I’m not welcome? Do you know who I am?”

  She tugged on her hand, but he refused to give it up, his fingertips tracing slowly over her knuckles as if he found each and every one of them fascinating. Tucking her phone between her head and shoulder, she stepped forward and pulled the door shut behind her. “We haven’t been introduced, but an open door is an invitation to enter. That’s universal, right? Unfortunately this one is closed.”

  He flicked a glance at the door, then dismissed it.

  “We’re wasting valuable time, Bethany. You need to know what you’re up against.”

  He released her hand, then withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket. He flattened it, then sent her a measured look.

  Intrigued by his reluctance, she reached out to take it and her heart skipped when his free hand covered hers.

  “Try not to overreact. All you need to do is show me to the guest room and put some clothes on.”

  She risked a downward glance and groaned. Before attempting dinner, she’d cleared out one of her mum’s wardrobes and tried on this gauzy hot-pink robe edged with feathers. Raising one eyebrow she gestured at it. “It’s Friday.”

  “Of course,” he said trying to keep a straight face.

  “Look, uh, whatever your name is, you’re not staying, and I’m dressed just fine for a night at home alone.”

  His smile was a killer, but his response was what floored her.

  “You won’t be alone. Things have changed. You’re engaged to me.

  It’s all in there.” He pointed at the paper she held. “Read it and get caught up.”

  Separate smiling images of herself and the Englishman stared back at her, but as the first few words on the page sank in, her knees shook violently and threatened to give out all together.

  “Awesome Emperor, Jake Olsen, to wed lottery bride.”

  Her gaze shot to his. “Awesome emperor? Did you write this yourself?”

  “My manager wrote it,” he said drily. “You’re getting a preview of tomorrow’s headlines.”

  “Tomorrow’s headlines?”

  “It’s real, Bethany. A press release. A sneak peek of tomorrow’s breaking news. You’re about to be famously engaged.”

  “To a man I don’t know? We just met a minute ago, and I don’t recall a proposal, let alone an acceptance.” She glanced back down at the page to confirm his name. “Jake, is it?”

  “Jake Olsen.”

  He said his name as if it should mean something, but it didn’t.

  “If we’ve met before, then I’m afraid I don’t remember.” She thrust the article into his hands and pointed at the black Hummer parked beneath the rose arbor. “If you must peddle insanity, then you might have more luck next door.”

  “Jake Olsen has dated some of the world’s greatest beauties,” he said with an edge to his voice as he read from the page, “but when this rock god’s mind turned to marriage—”

  She snorted. “Now you’re a rock god?”

  The silence was so complete she could hear his back teeth grind. “When Jake’s mind turned to marriage, only a commoner would do. The multi-award winning front man of UK rock band Five Awesome Emperors—”

  Her jaw dropped to somewhere in the vicinity of her feet, but his dark look prevented her from commenting.

  “Jake,” he said again, “held a lottery, asking dozens of ordinary women from all over the world to send him
a thumbnail sketch of their lives so that he might choose a wife from among them. It’s the Cinderella story of our time and the lucky heroine is Australian chef Bethany Louise Carlisle.”

  “Stop reading. Please. I need to think. The idea of a marriage lottery is creepy and wrong, and I didn’t enter, so there’s been some mistake.”

  His voice was firm, reminding her more of a headmaster than a rock god. “In a few hours, our engagement will be public record.

  There’s no mistake, Bethany Louise Carlisle-Olsen.”

  “Sure there is. We’ll start with the obvious. I’d never marry a man with long hair, or one who calls me by full name.”

  “You’re not marrying me, it’s a temporary engagement. And if you prefer, I’ll call you Cinders?”

  “You’d best call me Beth,” she said. “You know what? Cinders will do fine, actually. I’ll be Cinders, and courtesy of your too-long rock-god hair, you can be Famous Man.”

  “Beth.” He paused for several heartbeats before making a rough sound in the base of his throat. He pressed the paper into her hands. “Read all of it.

  She read. The article included all of her contact details, and

  everything from a detailed physical description to a list of life skills and character traits. It even had her height, weight, and IQ score.

  “Tell me, in as few words as possible, why this is happening and how you got my personal information.” She fisted her hands on her hips when he checked his watch. “Go ahead and wait till the reporters get here. You can tell all of us at once.”

  “Women.”

  The single word was barely audible, but the sentiment behind it set her blood to boil.

  “Women who don’t want their personal details made public?

  Are they the women you’re muttering about?” She waved the sheet of paper in his face. “I’m not looking to get married. Or engaged. I’m happy to surrender my winning lottery ticket and forfeit my prize.”

  “A prize you could forfeit. A fiancé you can’t.”

  “Watch me.”

  “Denying it will only fuel speculation.” His breath hissed out and he rubbed his open palm over his face. “We’re starring in a modern-day fairy tale that’ll capture the public’s interest.