Double Dare: A Menage Romance

by Marie Carnay

  Chapter Four

  CHELSEA

  “Please tell me that guy you spilled wine all over is single and taking you out later.”

  Chelsea scrunched up her nose. “If I admit I didn’t even catch his name, would you kill me?”

  Liz groaned. “I swear I saw dimples. Two dimples.”

  “Don’t remind me. Did you find the glass cat?”

  “Yep. It was tucked behind the signed Beatles album on table twenty-nine. Guess it didn’t want to admit its age.”

  Chelsea snorted. She could never figure out how Liz managed to make light of even the worst situations. “Have you seen him at all tonight?”

  “Who? Mr. Wine Shower? Nope. Looks like you missed out on another one.”

  Wasn’t that the truth. Chelsea picked up the nearest auction iPad and pulled up the list of bids. “Is everything set for the announcements?”

  Liz nodded. “Just giving the guests a chance to get another drink.” She hesitated for a moment before turning away.

  “What is it?”

  “When’s the last time you did something crazy?” With blonde hair and legs for days, Liz was the opposite of Chelsea in so many ways. Not the least of which was her sense of adventure.

  “Forget I ever told you I was stuck in a rut, okay?”

  “Not a chance.” Liz nudged her with an elbow. “You need to do something outrageous. Out of your comfort zone. When I’m bored, that’s what works for me.”

  “You have a comfort zone? I never knew.”

  Liz’s blue eyes rolled. “Remember when I went skydiving last year? Terrifying. My whole life flashed before my eyes.”

  “I’m sure clinging to the instructor helped. Didn’t you say his biceps could rip his shirt sleeves when he flexed?”

  Liz grinned. “You need to do something wild. Shake things up.”

  Chelsea exhaled and glanced down at the winning bids. Maybe work had been taking all her time lately. But even if she took Liz’s advice, nothing would come of it. Where her friend was adventurous and daring, Chelsea was… not.

  “Tell me the last time you did something new. Right now.”

  “Does switching to hazelnut-flavored coffee count?”

  Liz shook her head. “I’m talking, drag you out of your little bubble and turn your whole world topsy turvy, new.” She reached out and grabbed Chelsea’s arm. “When’s the last time your heart tried to beat right out of your chest or your lungs ached because you couldn’t breathe?”

  Chelsea thought for way too long. “Maybe that carnival ride a few years ago? The one with the rickety latch and the operator straight out of American Horror Story.”

  “You’re way overdo for a change.”

  She couldn’t deny that. Event planning had seemed so sexy and exciting in college. Fancy dinners, cocktail parties, friendly sports competitions. Visions of never sitting behind a desk and always meeting new people had filled her naïve mind.

  Fast-forward four years and the shine had worn off. With no time to date and no free weekends to speak of, she had been living for her clients, not herself. Between their outlandish demands and bad behavior, Chelsea needed a break.

  “If you come up with any ideas, let me know.”

  Liz laughed out loud. “I don’t think you’ll have a problem with that.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Just as Liz was about to explain, David appeared. “Ready for the announcements?”

  Chelsea nodded. “Have the MacIntoshes finished whatever they wanted to say?”

  “Yep. Looks like most everyone is back, so whenever you’re ready.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled before turning to Liz. Something about her last comment had her on edge. “You better not have something up your sleeve.”

  Liz wiggled her bare arms. “I can’t!”

  With a frown, Chelsea headed toward the front of the reception hall. Tables covered in black crepe and silver confetti lined the walls, each holding an item up for auction. The sponsors outdid themselves this year, auctioning everything from brand-new sports cars to weekend rentals of penthouse condos overlooking Central Park.

  A who’s who list of New York elite milled around the front, waiting for the announcements. She’d been to so many of these events the last few years, but she always felt like an outsider. All these people living lives she could only dream of while she took the subway home to her tiny apartment an hour away.

  People who were worth millions upon millions of dollars all eager to find out what crazy item they won. Liz was right. She needed a break. Somewhere far far away from New York City and her job.

  Sarabelle Island popped into her head. The man she’d talked to while standing in front of the display had been right. If she could go anywhere or bid on anything tonight it would be a whole month on Sarabelle. A private island with no hors d’oeuvres to check, decorations to rearrange, or people to smile at.

  Chelsea could be herself. If she even knew what that was anymore.

  She stepped up to the podium and flashed a choreographed smile at the crowd. Holt and Gage Macintosh stood off to the side with a woman between them. She must be their fiancée.

  Pretty, with light brown hair and hips that could give Chelsea’s a run for their money. Amazing. How one woman could manage a pair of brothers, Chelsea hadn’t a clue.

  Be attracted to two men? Sure. Men were a weakness she could never get over. Hard muscles, straight jawbones. Hands she imagined everywhere.

  Chelsea’s mind filled with thoughts of the two men she’d met that night. As different from each other as they could get, but she could see herself leaning into either one of them. Not that it would ever happen.

  She shook her head and scrolled to the first winning bid on the iPad in her hand. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I’m here to announce the winners of this year’s charity auction for the MacIntosh Fund for Cancer Research.”

  With a deep breath she glanced down at the screen. “The first item, an autographed football from Super Bowl Fifty, goes to Jacqueline and Richard Harrington.”

  The crowd broke out in muted applause as the couple walked over to the winners’ table. Chelsea waited a moment before continuing.

  Half an hour later, she’d announced every winner but one. All that remained was the month-long vacation. “With its breathtaking views and gorgeous mansion, secluded Sarabelle Island is the perfect place for your next getaway.”

  She smiled out at the crowd before glancing down at the winning bid. That can’t be right. She looked up, scanning the winning table for Liz. She was occupied. Damn it.

  Chelsea swallowed and read the details of the winning bid again. “I’m sorry, bear with me a moment everyone. Ms. Simmons, can I see you for a moment?”

  In a flash, Liz was by her side. “What’s the matter?”

  Chelsea pointed at the winning bid. “Is this some sort of joke?”

  Liz shook her head. “No. That’s the winning bid. Wire transfer came in twenty minutes ago.”

  “There’s got to be a mistake. I don’t know anyone here.”

  “He said he knows you. His brother, too.” Liz grinned. “Remember what I told you about taking chances? This is it. This is your chance.”

  “I can’t accept it.”

  Liz tilted her head at the crowd. “You still have to announce it.”

  Oh, God. Chelsea exhaled to calm her nerves. “This conversation isn’t over.”

  She turned back to the assembled partiers as Liz walked away. “My apologies on the delay. Without further ado, the month-long vacation on Sarabelle goes to, me, Chelsea Miller.”

  A rushed whisper tore through the crowd. “According to this, Bronx and Beckett Kingston placed the winning bid of…” She swallowed. “Two million dollars… on my behalf.” She blinked and stared out at the crowd. “Gentlemen, please step forward so I can thank you.”

  The audience swiveled like a giant lazy Susan. Everyone was staring at a pair of men standing by the do
or.

  Oh my God. Chelsea’s stomach flipped. The man she’d spilled wine on had changed into a Hawaiian shirt and flip-flops, but she’d recognize the grin anywhere. Next to him stood the other man she’d chatted with that night. The one she’d confessed her opinions to.

  Her lips fell open as they walked toward her. This is insane. Liz knew about it? She turned and ushered Liz back over. “Can you take over for me and close everything out?”

  “Of course.” Liz grabbed the microphone. “You’re not mad, are you?”

  “No. Just overwhelmed.”

  “Good.” Liz turned back to the crowd. “You heard it ladies and gentlemen, that was the final item up for auction this evening. It’s been a pleasure entertaining you all tonight. On behalf of the MacIntosh Fund, we can’t thank you enough. Enjoy the rest of your evening. The bar is open until midnight.”

  The band cranked up as the brothers stopped in front of Chelsea.

  The one in the suit held out his hand. “Bronx Kingston, pleasure to meet you. Again.”

  When he’d caught her ogling the island, she hadn’t had time to take him in. That had been a mistake. Imposing frame. Brown hair cut short. A ghost of stubble along his jaw.

  But his eyes. Rich, fresh-ground cinnamon with a hint of amber. Damn. He smiled and her brain rebooted. I should say something. There were words people used in situations like this, weren’t there?

  He nodded at the man standing next to him. “Beckett Kingston, my brother. You two had quite the run-in earlier, I believe.”

  Chelsea’s cheeks burned. To think she’d been concerned about his dry cleaning bill. Where his brother was poised and polished, Beckett was raw and slightly wild. Between his I-don’t-give-a-damn grin lighting up his face and his bright blue eyes shining like the ocean around Sarabelle Island, Chelsea didn’t know where to look.

  She focused on the hibiscus on his shirt. “Nice to meet you both.”

  “My apologies on catching you off guard with the bid.” Bronx leaned in and Chelsea found her gaze snapping up to his face. “But I asked your co-worker to keep it a secret. She said you liked surprises.”

  Leave it to Liz to come up with that one. Chelsea tried to smile. “It’s an incredibly generous offer, both of you. But I can’t accept it.”

  “Of course you can. We’ve already paid.”

  “Then you two should go. Enjoy yourselves for a month. I-I can’t accept something so…” She couldn’t even come up with a word to describe it. Bat-shit crazy? That might work.

  “Nonsense.” Bronx’s voice took on a rough edge. “You can accept it and you will. We don’t need to bid on the island, we—”

  Beckett cut him off. “What my brother means to say, is that we could arrange to stay there whenever we like. We bought the vacation for you, Chelsea.”

  Bronx stared at his brother. There was something going on between them, but Chelsea hadn’t the foggiest idea what. At last, Bronx spoke. “Beckett is right. You have to go. It’s the requirement of the bid.”

  She blinked. He couldn’t be serious. “Are you telling me you’ll rescind the bid if I don’t agree?”

  Bronx flashed her a smile. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  Oh, no. She was in serious trouble. She looked to Beckett, but he was nodding in agreement. How could she take such a crazy offer? It was impossible.

  Beckett seemed to sense her distress. He cocked his head. “If you’re really so concerned about accepting the gift, we could split it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The three of us. We could all go to Sarabelle for the month. That way it wouldn’t be just you accepting our generosity.”

  “You mean you would come? Both of you?”

  “If my brother can bear to leave the city, that is. What about it, Bronx? Could you take a month-long vacation?”

  Bronx stared at his brother for a moment before turning back to Chelsea. “If that’s the only way to get Chelsea to accept, then yes. I’ll come.”

  She thought about Liz’s comments. How she needed a change. Something crazy and wild. A vacation on a private island with the sexy-as-sin men in front of her certainly qualified.

  Before she could talk herself out of it, Chelsea nodded. “If you both will be there, then yes, I’ll go.”

  Chapter Five

  CHELSEA

  “I haven’t taken a vacation in two years, Michelle.”

  She knew her boss would balk at the idea of an unscheduled vacation, but Chelsea hadn’t anticipated the third degree.

  “But it’s an entire month! What events do you have on the calendar?”

  Chelsea checked her phone. “The George wedding, the Youngers’ afternoon tea. Nothing major.”

  Michelle pulled her reading glasses off and pointed at Chelsea. “You’re putting me in a tough spot. I don’t like it.”

  Her boss always blew things out of proportion. It was one of the many reasons Chelsea had been looking for something new. “July is a slow month. You know that.”

  Michelle frowned. The woman didn’t build an event planning and coordination business from scratch in New York City without a backbone made of steel, but somewhere along the line, she’d forgotten how to bend.

  It started slow—a denied request for a last-minute day off, then a ratcheting down of long lunches and early nights. What had been a relatively relaxed job with flexible hours and a happy vibe had turned into everything Chelsea couldn’t stand about the city.

  The fast pace and rush-rush onto the next thing, always looking for the next opportunity or next client. Michelle had pushed everyone to work more, pick up more events, get out there and make a name for themselves in the business.

  Chelsea had only taken the job out of college because she didn’t know what else to do with her life. Her art major didn’t exactly pay the bills.

  She exhaled. Telling Michelle any of her real opinions wouldn’t earn her any favors. Chelsea needed to pull out all the stops. “Bronx Kingston expressly conditioned his donation on my acceptance of the vacation. If I don’t go, the MacIntosh Fund loses out on two million dollars.”

  Michelle rolled her brown eyes. “It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Why?”

  She waved her glasses in Chelsea’s direction. “Because you’re an event coordinator. Does he even know you?”

  In her smart navy skirt suit and stiletto heels, her boss might look like an heiress to a fortune, but she wasn’t any better than Chelsea. The words stung.

  “No, he doesn’t. But even a stranger could tell I need some time off.” She crossed her arms. “If you don’t want me to go, I won’t. But I’m not calling Gage MacIntosh and explaining why the auction he paid us to put on wasn’t a success.”

  Michelle shoved her glasses back on her face. “He wouldn’t be happy, would he?”

  “No. And he doesn’t have the reputation of someone who forgets easily. The auction’s one of our biggest events. We can’t afford to lose it or suffer the negative publicity.”

  With a sigh, Michelle caved. “I suppose I can survive without you for a month.”

  Chelsea smiled. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  “You better. Now get out of here before I change my mind.”

  Without another word, Chelsea got up and hustled out of Michelle’s office. She couldn’t believe the woman actually agreed to let her go. She hated to be the one out of control.

  A whole month where she wasn’t checking in via text or email on the hour? Thirty-one days of peace and quiet on a tropical island?

  Chelsea paused outside her own office door. What am I thinking?

  “You look like you’re about to puke.” Liz slouched in her guest chair, pink polished toes peeking out of a pair of patent slingbacks as she flipped them back and forth. “Did Michelle say no?”

  Chelsea shook her head as she flopped in her own chair. “No. That’s the problem. She actually agreed.”

  Liz clapped her han
ds. “That’s incredible. God, I’m so jealous.”

  “Want to trade?”

  “Are you kidding me? Did you see the way those two looked at you? It was… dirty.”

  Chelsea swallowed. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Admitting to your best friend how terrified you were of a month in paradise with two sexy guys wasn’t easy. She pouted. “Don’t kill me, but I’m having second thoughts.”

  Liz bolted upright. “You’re nuts.”

  “I know.” Chelsea rubbed at her temples. In the tumult of the auction’s end, she hadn’t known what to do but say yes. But agreeing to a whole month with two men she didn’t know? It seemed so…

  She glanced up at Liz. “I feel cheap.”

  “Pfft. That’s ridiculous.”

  Was it? Hadn’t Bronx Kingston just waved a bunch of money and a private island at her and she’d jumped at the chance like a… gold digger? “It’s like they bought me for a month. I don’t like it.”

  Liz raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t they going to let you stay there all by yourself?”

  Chelsea thought back to the auction. The original bid did only have her name on it. “Maybe?”

  “Weren’t you the one who insisted they come along?”

  Her stomach sunk and her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God, I did, didn’t I? I just invited them along on some crazy vacation for three. What was I thinking?”

  “That it would be awesome, that’s what!” Liz pulled out her phone. “I’ve done some digging.”

  Oh, no. Priding herself on being the only employee at Watson Events to know celebrity gossip, Liz had a knack for sussing out all the dirt on everyone. “I don’t want to know.”

  “Yes, you do.” Liz scrolled the screen. “It says here they’re old money. Like, Vanderbilt, Rockefeller old. Their great-great-grandfather made millions on a railroad line across the United States years ago.”

  Chelsea sunk lower in her seat. “So they’re spoiled rich boys. Awesome.”

  “Not exactly. Seems Beckett’s a bit of a recluse. No one’s seen him around New York in years. He lives somewhere off the grid, I guess.”