by Marie Carnay
Want more Double the Fun? Flip the page for an exclusive sneak peek at book two in the series, Double Dare. Or download it on Amazon today.
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Double Dare
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Two billionaire brothers, a curvy event planner, and an unforgettable vacation. Buckle up this plane is headed to paradise!
Bronx and Beckett have been at each other’s throats for years. When the brothers attend a charity auction, they run into the perfect woman to bridge the gap between them. The only catch? Convincing the curvy beauty they want more than a fling on the beach.
Overworked and single, Chelsea dreams of a chance to escape to the tropics. When a pair of sexy brothers bid on a vacation—for her—she’s shocked. Inviting them along is the only way she’ll accept. She never expected to end up in the arms of both men, or fall in love.
Secret desires will be revealed, lies exposed, and love put to the test. Double dare you to resist.
Double Dare is book two in the standalone, steamy MFM romance series Double the Fun. Can be read in any order.
Flip the page to start reading!
Chapter One
CHELSEA
“What do you mean you have to cancel? I’m outside the restaurant, waiting for you.”
Oh, no. Chelsea tore through her closet, digging for the black floor-length gown she’d worn to the last gala the firm put together. “I’m sorry, Bill. I just got the call. I’m the only coordinator available who can run the charity auction.”
“What happened to the person supposed to do the job?”
“Bad shrimp. Jackie can’t show up and puke all over the auction tables.” Come on, where is that dress?
“Sounds like a lame excuse to me.”
She rolled her eyes and kept digging. At last, Chelsea found the dress and tugged it off the hanger.
When Jackie had called, begging Chelsea to cover the silent auction, she had no choice. The MacIntosh Fund for Cancer Research was one of their biggest clients. If Chelsea didn’t sub in, the firm would lose a major portion of their revenue and the auction would be a disaster.
Bill’s voice took on an annoyed edge. “It took me weeks to get this reservation. I’m only here because you said you liked sushi. It gives me heartburn.”
Chelsea cradled the phone on her shoulder as she yanked the dress up her body. Now he was just pouting. “It’s not like I’m ditching you to wash my hair. It’s a fundraiser for cancer, Bill.”
With the dress on, she scanned her rack of shoes. Something sensible, sturdy, and appropriate too. Classic black pumps, there you are. She tossed them on her bed and rushed into the bathroom.
She knew canceling on Bill was terrible, but she’d told him weekends were impossible at least three times. The man just didn’t listen. “How about we reschedule for a weeknight?”
“Are you serious? I’ve got a job. I can’t just up and leave to have dinner with you.”
She paused, an eye shadow and tube of mascara in her hand. “I have a job too. That’s why I suggested something low-key and casual. Working for an event coordinator, something always comes up.”
Bill cursed under his breath, but Chelsea still heard it. The nerve of him.
She straightened up and stared at her reflection in the mirror. “If you can’t handle my job, Bill, then dating is probably a mistake.”
“Enjoy your stupid event, Chelsea. Don’t call me again.”
Too bad eye rolls didn’t translate on the phone. “If I remember right, you’re the one who called me.”
Chelsea ended the phone call with a huff before scooping up the rest of her makeup and rushing into the bedroom. She didn’t have time for Bill’s hurt feelings. Grabbing a black handbag, Chelsea shoved everything into it: makeup, keys, emergency bottle of aspirin. Anything she’d need to survive a last-minute assignment.
With one hand typing on her phone to call a cab, she hopped into her shoes. How did this always happen to her? Meet a nice, boring guy, get roped into work. Finally schedule a date—the first Saturday off in forever—end up throwing on a party dress and pearls.
Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.
With a final check around the apartment, Chelsea rushed out the door.
It had been months since she’d been on a date. When she’d run into Bill at the gym down the street, she’d thought he was cute in the ordinary way. Crew cut, average build, sensible shoes. Nothing flashy.
Turned out he had a nice, stable job in accounting working with Excel spreadsheets all day. A guy like that could be the balm to her hectic life, right? Not a chance.
The elevator showed up and Chelsea rushed onto it. This is why I’m still single. The job and the unpredictability. The doors opened and Chelsea practically ran through the lobby and out into the humid city air.
Her cab sat by the curb and Chelsea waved at the driver before yanking the door open. “The MacIntosh Hotel, please. And hurry, I’m super late.”
As the cab merged into a lane, Chelsea dug her mirror and eyeliner out of her bag. With a thirty-minute cab ride ahead of her, she would make it to the auction just in time. Now all she had to do was look presentable before the cab pulled up to the front door.
She glanced up at the driver. With his slicked back black hair and V-neck white T-shirt, he reminded Chelsea of her grandfather. “Warn me if there’s a pothole, okay? I need both my eyes.”
He stared at her in the rearview mirror for a moment. “Going to a party?”
“Work.”
“Pretty fancy office.”
“I do event planning.” She waved her mascara around. “You know, charity events, weddings, that sort of thing.”
The driver grunted. “Pay well?”
“It won’t pay anything if I don’t get there on time. Can you drive any faster?”
As the cab sped up and the driver focused on the road, Chelsea worked on her makeup. She hadn’t had time to do anything but tousle her hair and put a couple of clips in it, but that would have to do. No one would be looking at her anyway. They’d be too interested in the who’s who of New York to pay any attention to the woman with a clipboard and a radio.
All she had to do was keep the bids running smoothly, the drinks and hor d’oeuvres coming, and bring in a ton of money for the charity. No pressure.
The cab slowed as it approached the hotel and Chelsea crammed all of her things into her bag. She fished out the fare plus a hefty tip and shoved it through the glass. “Thank you!”
Before the driver could say a word, Chelsea was out and scurrying toward the hotel entrance with its rows of Hollywood lights and gilding everywhere.
Part old world glamour, part modern luxury, the MacIntosh Hotel was one of the best boutiques in the city. It didn’t hurt that the MacIntosh brothers routinely graced the pages of magazines and newspapers the world over.
Now that they were officially off the market thanks to one kick-ass woman, the tabloids didn’t know what to do with themselves. Without the two most eligible bachelors on the market, the news cycle was completely out of whack. Chelsea didn’t know how Jessica Woodson managed.
It was hard enough keeping one man around longer than a week. Managing to snag the hearts of both MacIntoshes? Insane.
Whatever it was that had brought the two billionaires together, Chelsea didn’t have it. She couldn’t even keep boring old Bill interested enough to have a first date.
The closest she’d ever get to having two men fawn all over her would be an ice-cold pint of Ben and Jerry’s. At least they didn’t talk back or care if she had to cancel. And cookie dough always made her smile.
What she wouldn’t give to be curled up on the couch halfway through a chocolate caramel swirl right now. Instead, she was hurrying over marble floors and past the concierge to the reception hall in the back of the hotel.
She threw open the door to the staging room and before it
even shut behind her, Liz was rushing to her side.
“Thank God you’re here. I can’t get the earpiece to work, David is holding five people outside who aren’t on the list, and the blue glass cat is missing.”
“Hello to you, too.” Liz might be her closest friend in and out of work, but Chelsea never could get used to her running at full tilt. “First, take a deep breath.”
Liz inhaled and the sequined bodice of her dress sparkled under the lights. She exhaled and managed a smile.
“That’s better.” Chelsea clasped her hands together. “Okay. First, if the earpieces don’t work, switch to radios. Second, tell David to make a judgment call and let them in or send them packing. This is a charity event, not a private wedding.” She paused. “Third, what the hell is a blue glass cat?”
Liz grabbed the list of items up for auction. “Number thirty-one, blue glass cat sculpture. Originally a centerpiece of Coco Chanel’s Manhattan apartment.”
“You’re serious?” Chelsea snatched the auction list and re-read the line. “Wow. Rich people will buy anything.”
“Not if we lost it, they won’t.”
Chelsea glanced around. “It has to be here somewhere. Glass cats don’t jump off the table and scamper away.”
“One look at the guest list and it might have.”
Chelsea groaned. “That bad?”
“Depends on your definition of bad. Everyone who’s anyone is here.” Liz leaned closer. “Even the MacIntoshes.”
“Gage and Holt? I thought they were too busy with their fiancée?”
“She’s here too.”
Oh. “Forget I asked.” The auction was turning into exactly the type of event Chelsea avoided. She preferred the more down-to-earth events to run: charity polo upstate, private weddings, anniversary dinners. Not talk-of-the-town galas and silent auctions.
She scanned the list of items one more time. “Remind me again why I answered my phone?”
Liz smiled. “Because you like to pay rent.”
“Right.” She held out her hand. “Give me a radio. I’ll go make the rounds.”
With a smile, Liz handed over a small black radio and a handful of auction lists. Chelsea bundled everything into her arm and turned toward the door. Four hours of walking the crowd, pushing prospective bidders to submit, and steering the auction to a successful finish and she could collapse back at her apartment.
It might be a tiny little studio with a fold-down bed, but it was all hers, no fancy parties in sight. She shoved the door open and rushed into the void, eyes focused on the list in front of her.
By the time she saw the starched white dress shirt and the two glasses of wine, it was too late. Oh, God. Red wine burst across a man’s chest and splashed onto the auction lists in her hand. Droplets landed on her face and arms and Chelsea wobbled backward.
I am such an idiot. If I hadn’t been so late… If I had only watched where I was going… She glanced up, about to blurt out an apology, when she caught the man’s eye. Instead of outrage and irritation, he was… laughing.
With brown hair bleached by the sun and blue eyes shining like the clearest New York morning, he was gorgeous. And that smile… Dimples always sucked the words right out of her head.
He motioned to her ruined auction lists. “Are you all right?”
Color bloomed across her cheeks. “Me?”
“Unless you have an invisible twin, yes, you. The woman I spilled wine all over. Are you okay?”
Chelsea nodded. God, where had he been all her life? Tall, broad shoulders, with that effortless stance that said I know how to handle myself and don’t give a shit about anyone. Her last boyfriend never knew how to stand still. Always shifting, awkward and uncomfortable.
Not this guy. Even dripping in wine he was in control. Sexy. Her mind ran down a very dirty rabbit hole before she stopped herself.
I’ve got to get it together. She nodded. “I’m fine. And I’m pretty sure this is my fault. I ran into you.”
“Well, then I should thank you. It’s not every day a beautiful woman comes to my rescue.”
What? Had she knocked the sense out of the guy when they collided? “I don’t follow.”
The man set the wine glasses on an empties tray and shook off his hands. “I’d been attempting to find a way out of this party since I arrived. Now I have one. Thank you, Ms….?”
“Chelsea Miller.” She held out her hand and forced a smile. Knowing he was leaving shouldn’t bother her. She had a job to do. But as his fingers slipped over hers she wished they had met a different way.
“Thank you, Chelsea.” He winked. “You’ve made my night.”
Chapter Two
BRONX
The door to the suite swung open and Beckett stomped in, his shirt stained like he’d run through a zombie film.
“What the hell happened to you?”
“What? Merlot’s not my color?” Breezing past Bronx, Beckett made his way to the bar and poured himself a scotch.
“Did someone throw wine at you?”
“Not exactly.” Beckett took a sip and met Bronx’s confused stare with a shrug. “You should be happy. I met someone.”
“You’re joking right?
“When have I ever joked about women?”
He had a point. Bronx couldn’t remember the last time his brother even smiled. “I take it she didn’t share your enthusiasm?”
“We didn’t get that far.”
Bronx shook his head. No matter how hard he tried, he would never understand his older brother. “You’ve spent too much time on that island. It’s addled your brain. You need to stay in New York for a while and reacquaint yourself with the real world.”
Beckett rolled his eyes. “So I can go with you to some other party tomorrow night? No thanks. The sooner we wrap up the estate once and for all the sooner I can get back to Sarabelle.”
Bronx never understood what Beckett saw in the place. Sure it was tropical paradise with palm trees and sandy beaches. But apart from a gardener, cook, and the occasional visitor, there was no one there.
No deals to be made, no women to sleep with, and nothing to do.
The ocean was pretty, but he couldn’t just sit and look at it all day. He needed the beat of the city. The giant hive of people gathered together to work and live and play. Cars rushing by, cabs honking all night. Lights and noise and excitement. New York made him feel alive.
The island never did that.
He shook his head. “You’ve been there too long. Gotten lazy. If it weren’t for the will, you wouldn’t even have an island to go home to.”
Bronx regretted the words as soon as they slipped from his mouth. It wasn’t his fault their father shut Beckett out of the business. But even now, with their parents both gone, Beckett still refused to be involved.
It stung. Without their parents, Bronx felt responsible. They should have more than a business relationship after all these years. They were the only family each of them had left.
Beckett threw his stained suit jacket on the back of a chair. “That’s what it always is about with you isn’t it? Whether I’m toeing the family line? Whether I’ve done enough to earn the Kingston name?”
Shit. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Beckett unbuttoned his wine soaked shirt and yanked it off. “ Yes, you did. You always mean everything you say.”
“It came out wrong.”
Bronx ran his hand through his hair. He didn’t invite Beckett back to New York just to fight with him. He’d hoped it would be a reunion of sorts. A way to bridge the gap between them.
Ever since the accident, a rift had been growing between them. They had always been different. Beckett loved to get his hands dirty and build things in the backyard. Bronx preferred the rush of sports and the thrill of winning.
As kids, they had still found common ground. Books. Music. Girls. The will changed everything.
Bronx held out his hands. “Forget I said anything. How about you change and
we go to the auction together? Don’t you want to see how much the island is going for?”
Beckett frowned. “I never should’ve agreed. Letting some stranger stay at the island for a month is a mistake.”
Bronx checked his own rising anger. Yelling at his brother would get them nowhere fast. “The bidding started half an hour ago. We can’t back out now. Besides, it’s for cancer, Beckett. You know Mom always donated time on Sarabelle—”
“Don’t remind me.” Beckett ran a hand down his face. “Give me ten minutes. I’ll change and meet you there.”
Bronx didn’t like leaving Beckett alone with his thoughts, but he agreed. Maybe it would give him time to scope out the mystery woman. “So does this woman you met have a name?”
Beckett glanced up. “Chelsea, why?”
“I like this suit. I’d hate to spill anything on it.” At least that managed to erase the furrow in his brother’s brow.
Maybe there was hope for them yet. Bronx strode out of the hotel room and headed toward the auction.
Five minutes later, he stood in front of the display for Sarabelle Island, wondering if he’d made the right decision. Pressuring Beckett into putting it up for auction seemed like a good idea at the time. It would be supporting their mother’s charitable causes and would bring some new blood into his brother’s life.
With any luck, it would be someone interesting and well-traveled. Bronx had imagined so many possibilities when Gage first brought it up. He knew if he could only get Beckett out of the rut he’d fallen into, their relationship would improve.
If his brother could find a woman to share his life with…
Bronx knew his brother would tell him to look in the mirror. Beckett wasn’t the only Kingston who needed a woman. But Bronx had given up long ago. It was one of the reasons he loved New York: the anonymity of casual hook-ups and the ability to disappear.
He’d tried to date a few times, but nothing ever panned out. Something to do with his charming personality.
