My Hot Hero: A Hot Heroes Boxed Set

by Adele Hart

  “I need more, love. I need it all.”

  I cup his cheek. “What can I give you?” I’d give this man anything. He took me from a miserable college senior who couldn’t see the gold at the end of the rainbow and showed me that he is the gold, and every day with him is the rainbow.

  “I want you, Katherine Trent. I want you forever. Be my life. Be my love. Be my wife. Be my everything. Hug me. Hold me. Love me. Never let go. I’ll love you. Honor you. Worship you. I’ll be everything I can be to help you be the best you. If you say yes to marrying me, I’ll be the best me.” He opens his palm and in the center is a beautiful ring.

  He slides the solitaire onto my finger and sits back on his heels waiting for my answer.

  It’s not the ring that makes my decision but his words delivered with love.

  “Hugh Fletcher, how can I say no when you use such passion and persuasion in your words. I feel each of those words in my heart. How did I get so damn lucky?”

  He stands and presses me to the bed with his body. “You were reckless.”

  Epilogue Two

  Hugh - Two Years Later

  When Katy stands on that stage and accepts her master’s degree in Molecular Biology, I’m the proudest professor in attendance. Not because she’s amazing. She is, but because she’s my wife and when she turns to smile at me I’m lost in love.

  I help her down the stairs worried that she’ll take a tumble and instead of celebrating with a nice dinner out, we’ll spend the evening in labor and delivery.

  “Kat, I’m so proud of you.”

  She throws her arms around my neck and squeezes. “I did it.”

  “Of course you did. I never doubted you.”

  She shakes her head and laughs. “No, I mean I made it through graduation. I’ve been in labor for at least an hour.”

  “What?” I’d like to throttle my wife, but I can’t because I love her so much. “Kat, we have to get you to the hospital.”

  “No way, buddy. I hear they’re worse than a stubborn English professor. It’s early and my contractions are coming every ten minutes or so. I think we have time for food.”

  “Love, I think we should go now.”

  I don’t wait for the rest of the ceremony to finish. I escort her out of the auditorium, but the damn woman stops at every food vendor she sees.

  “Kat, the hospital will feed you. Let’s go. I refuse to have you give birth to Wadsworth in front of a funnel cake stand.”

  She pats her stomach. “I’m eating for two, and it’s Watson not Wadsworth. He wants the funnel cake.”

  We’ve been debating for weeks about what to name our child. I think Henry Wadsworth Fletcher sounds nice, but Kat wants to honor a molecular biologist named Watson.

  I pay for the funnel cake while Kat sits down on a nearby bench. When I get to where she’s at, she’s looking at the ground.

  “Uh oh.”

  “What do you mean, uh oh?” I look to where she’s looking and see a puddle of water spread beneath her feet.

  “No time for cake and lemonade,” she says. “It’s time to go, Professor.”

  I swoop down and pick her up and rush her to the car. “Kat, I swear you’re going to kill me.”

  She grips my hand and squeezes as a contraction seizes her. “Definitely, especially if the next pain feels like the last. I am definitely going to kill you.”

  I drive with as much calm and restraint as a man can have when his wife has cut the circulation off to his hand from her grasp.

  We pull into Denver General Hospital, and I help Kat into a wheelchair. She’s whisked off to labor and delivery while I follow behind her. In truth, I’d follow this woman anywhere. She’s taken a man without a purpose or a path and led me directly into her heart.

  An hour later, she’s panting and pushing, and a little pink bundle of joy is born.

  “What’s her name?” the doctor asks.

  Kat and I look up to see the doctor holding a girl.

  “You said it was a boy,” she says in a panic. “We don’t have a name for a girl.”

  “Oh, Kat, sure we do. Look at her. What do you see?”

  Katy looks at our daughter and back to me. “We can’t name her purple screamer.”

  “Look at me, love. What do you see?”

  She stares at me with soft eyes and an open heart. “I see hope and passion and undying love.”

  We name our daughter Hope Fletcher. And just to give me a little something extra, Kat ads in the middle name Austen who just happens to be my favorite female writer.

  Who would have thought that I would meet the woman of my dreams in an airport? That she’d choose that moment to be reckless, and I’d choose that moment to be naughty.

  It was one night that changed the trajectory of my world, and I’d do it all again if Kat was sitting in that bar waiting for me.

  I sit next to my wife’s bed and hold her hand. Our daughter sleeps in an acrylic crib next to her. They are both the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.

  Hope stirs and starts to cry. Kat rises from the bed looking exhausted. I give her a soft kiss and tell her, “I’ll get her love.”

  I pick up my daughter and hold her to my chest. She snuggles up to me the way her mother does when she’s feeling vulnerable. I sit down and rock her until she falls back to sleep, and I reflect on my life.

  I’ve read the greats. I’ve analyzed sonnets. Recited the words of masters. Hell, I’ve even written a few bestsellers of my own, but getting Kat to marry me is my greatest accomplishment, and having this little girl is my finest creation.

  Maybe I was wrong about passion and words. Maybe they aren’t always found on a page, but in the heart of a good woman, and the trust of a newborn.

  Also by Adele Hart

  Alphas and Virgins Titles

  Thrill Me

  Tempt Me

  Take Me

  Choose Me

  Kiss Me

  Devour Me

  Make Me Titles

  Make Me Yours

  Make Me Crazy

  Make Me Wet

  Make Me Wild

  Make Me Happy

  Make Me Love You

  High Stakes and Hot Heroes Titles

  My Toy Boy

  My Cocky Cowboy

  My Naughty Professor

  Bad Boys and Good Girls

  Slow, Hard Puck

  Fast, Hard Ride

  Boxsets

  Alphas and Virgins Volume One

  Alphas and Virgins Volume Two

  Make Me Volume One

  Make Me Volume Two

  Devour Me-Sneak Peek

  One

  MADDY

  “I can’t believe you're doing this again.” I hop one-footed toward the front door trying to put on my right shoe. It isn’t an easy task when Mom is primping my hair, and Dad is looking at his watch and tapping his foot on the marble floor.

  “Oh, sweetheart. Give your parents a break. We’re not fixing you up with Malcolm.” Mom winks at Dad. “We thought it would be nice for you to have a dinner partner.” She licks her finger and wipes at something under my eye.

  What is it that compels moms to do that? It isn’t like their spit contains miracle properties. If there is something under my eye, it will take a cotton ball and extra strength makeup remover to get rid of it. To my mother’s horror, I’m a low maintenance girl. I apply industrial strength mascara first thing in the morning and that’s it. I’m good to go all day.

  I swat at her hand. “Let’s go.” I pick up the little black clutch from the entry table and walk out the door. The faster I get this over with, the better. It used to be a monthly thing. Mom and Dad would find some reason for me to attend one of their many social events, and each time they conveniently set me up with one of their friends’ single sons.

  At twenty-five, I don’t consider myself on the shelf. Lots of women wait to settle down and have children. The issue is, my parents are late bloomers themselves, and at fifty-seven, their
grandparent clock is ticking so loud. It doesn’t matter that my biological clock hasn’t been wound yet. They are ready to bounce babies on their knees, and as their only child I have the only eligible womb.

  There was a false start two years ago when Anthony Bale the fourth proposed. That relationship crashed and burned the first time we got intimate. That was the day his other girlfriend barged in before he could take my virginity.

  “You’ll love Malcolm.” Mom slides into the limousine and I follow. It doesn’t take Dad more than a second to open the decanter and pour himself a scotch. He hates these social events almost as much as I do, but this one pulls in a fortune for his non-profit. The proceeds will go to keep the arts in underprivileged schools.

  We come from old money and the family motto is, with big money comes big responsibility. Give more than you take, and be humble. As a Leclerc, working is optional. Philanthropy is not.

  “Tell me about Malcolm.” It is always easier to cave in to Mom’s interference then fight it. Tonight will unfold like all others. She will parade me around the event like a prize heifer at the fair, and if Malcolm is like the other men my parents introduce me to, he’ll want a gazelle not a fattened calf.

  I’ll spend a couple of hours with Malcolm at dinner. I’ll smile and do my best to charm him, but by the end of the evening we’ll go our separate ways.

  “So you see, he’s perfect for you.” The entire conversation passes without my participation. How did I get so lucky?

  Inside I roll my eyes. Outside I smile. “He sounds great.” I pull at my skirt. Maybe that extra pastry this afternoon wasn’t such a good idea, but I have a thing for fresh croissants, and when they’re filled with chocolate, I can’t resist.

  The car pulls up to the curb, and the driver lets us out. For a winter day, it’s warm, but that’s the norm in Los Angeles. While people across the United States are shivering in sub-zero temperatures, half of the state of California is in shorts and T-shirts. I wipe at the bead of sweat that forms on my brow and think about hot chocolate and snow.

  “Stand up tall, Madison. You look like you’re marching to your death. I’m not putting a noose around your neck. I’m trying to put a ring on your finger. Now smile.” So much for her statement about not trying to fix me up.

  I walk into the ballroom behind my parents with a smile as bright as the high beams on Dad’s Porsche.

  At the first opportunity, I leave my parents to socialize, and go in a different direction. The only thing fun about fundraisers is buying the goods. I make it a point to purchase something at each event. Last year I purchased a cruise and anonymously gave it to a less fortunate family.

  Tables full of prizes line the walls of the room. This will keep me busy all evening. I am rounding the second table when Mom finds me. Next to her is Malcolm. In all honesty, he is surprisingly handsome. I don’t generally go for the gingers, but his hair is more blond than red, and his smile is electrifying.

  Everyone has a type and mine is definitely tall, dark and delicious, but Malcolm is easy on the eyes.

  “You must be Malcolm.” I offer him my hand and a smile. My parents spent a fortune on orthodontics and this is as good a time as any to show off their investment.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Madison.”

  Mom pushes us together and squeals with delight. “You two kids have fun.” She turns and leaves as if her job is complete, and I’m grateful that she doesn’t helicopter around us.

  Malcolm and I stare at my mom’s retreating figure. “You can call me Maddy. All my friends do.” I have a feeling Malcolm and I are going to be good friends.

  “Well, Maddy, how many of these fix ups do you need to attend each month?” He lifts my hand and places it on his arm. “This is my fifth.” He sounds more entertained than irritated.

  “Five? You’re certainly holding up well. Let’s just keep smiling. We’d hate to crush their dreams in the first five minutes. Besides, how do you know I’m not the one?” I brush my fingers over a beautiful blown glass vase that is up for auction. The color starts black at the bottom and fades to clear at the top.

  “I’m sure you’re a great girl, and you’re quite beautiful, but you’re not my type.” He picks up a pen and hovers his hand over the bid sheet.

  “You’ve only just met me, how do you know?” Lord, I’ve been with this guy for less than a minute and he is already retreating.

  He leans in and whispers in my ear. “You have a vagina.” He writes five hundred dollars on the sheet.

  “It’s worth far more than that.” I take the pen and cross out his bid and replace it with a bid of fifteen hundred.

  “So are you. I’ve just told you I’m gay, and you didn’t run in the other direction.” He pulls my arm and guides me down the table.

  I burst out in laughter. Out of the corner of my eye I see my mom smile. Sadly, she’ll be heartbroken again.

  “Mom always taught me to keep my friends close and my enemies closer.”

  He raises his baby blues at me. “Now we’re enemies?”

  “A few minutes ago you were a love interest. Now you’re competition.”

  His laughter reverberates through the room. It’s a genuine heart felt laugh.

  “You’re safe with me. I’ve got someone.”

  I swipe my forehead with an exaggerated movement. “Thank God. I didn’t want to have to take you out back and fight you for someone’s affections.”

  “I like you, Maddy. I think we could be friends.”

  I hug his arm. “We already are.” We move to the next table where a gift certificate for a private chef, masseuse, and chateau are being offered. “Do your parents know?”

  He pens in a five thousand dollar bid. “No, it would kill my parents. They have dreams of grandbabies and a daughter-in-law.” I take the pen and scribble out his bid and write in ten thousand. Something tells me Malcolm and his lover could use this retreat.

  “There’s always surrogacy.”

  “Are you volunteering?” We walk down the row of offerings, stopping occasionally to bid.

  “No. I mean, I want children, but I want to have them for myself. Tell you what. As soon as I pop one out, you can be an honorary uncle.”

  “I get to babysit.”

  “As an uncle, it’s a requirement.” Talking to Malcolm is easy. Too bad it isn’t that way usually. I’m not shy, but there’s so much pressure to marry and have kids, it makes me cautious. I don’t want to enter into a relationship out of desperation. I want attraction. I want connection. I want love.

  “Your kid is going to be the luckiest little one out there. Me and Luke will be amazing uncles." He says the name in that dreamy way that people in love do.

  “You and Luke shouldn’t hide your love. We can all learn something from love so passionate and pure.”

  “How do you know our love is passionate and pure?” He picks up a signed tennis racket and mimics an overhand swing.

  “Please… you nearly puddle on the floor at the mention of his name. You look like I do when I’m ready to devour a chocolate-filled croissant.”

  He slides down three displays. “You like pastries?”

  I run my hands down my body and over my flared hips. “Can’t you tell?”

  “You’re body is perfect.”

  “Says the man who likes men.”

  “That’s irrelevant. You need to see this.” He reaches out and picks up a brochure for a cooking school. “Do you know Ripley Stark?” He shoves the brochure into my hand.

  “Never heard of him.” I open the trifold page and see the most gorgeous man on earth. He’s obviously a cover model because men that look as good as him don’t need to cook. People cook for them.

  “He’s the owner of Sinfully Delicious and he donated this cooking class. You need to do this.” He points to the description that says, Five Days to Sin: A French pastry course.

  “I never buy anything for myself at these things, but if I did, and this is actually the man, I’d make
sure I was the highest bidder.” I run my finger over the picture of the dark-haired hottie in the chef’s jacket. “He’s so yummy.”

  “Makes your mouth water, huh?”

  That and other things get wet too, but I don’t say that out loud. I put the brochure down and move down the table.

  “Speaking of mouths and water, can I get you a drink?” I needed a reason to break away from Malcolm to make sure I am the highest bidder on the getaway package.

  “Yes, a Manhattan would be great. Catch up with me down the row. I’ll make note of anything worth seeing.” He moves down the table while I backtrack to the bid sheet and put twenty thousand dollars down. It’s a crazy bid, but I want it for him and Luke. Something tells me that a romantic getaway would be important to them.

  When I return with his drink, he is rounding the last corner. Fifteen minutes later the bids are closed and dinner begins.

  Malcolm and I sit under the watchful eye of my parents who ask lots of questions about his career and his family. Turns out that Malcolm’s father is a lawyer, and Malcolm is a partner in the firm.

  Near the end of dinner, Mom asks, “Will you two be seeing each other again?” Hope gushes from her like a geyser.

  Malcolm lays his hand on my shoulder and gives me a silent I’ve-got-this. “Yes, I’m going to be an uncle to Maddy’s children.”

  Mom’s geyser stalls mid-air then sputters to a stop until her hope and happiness are capped off. It’s heartbreaking to watch, but she deserves no less for meddling in my love life one too many times.

  The man announcing the high bid winners silences my parents. I sit on the edge of my seat and wait for my name to be called. When it is, I smile because I know even though love isn’t in my future, it’s in Malcolm’s and Luke’s.

  When the evening ends, Malcolm and I exchange numbers and hugs. Mom and Dad didn’t find me a husband. They found me a friend.