Книга - Lone Star Lovers

Lone Star Lovers
Jessica Lemmon


This sexy Texan was only meant to be a one-night stand…Penelope Brand’s hookup with billionaire Zach Ferguson was casual…until he announces her as his fake fiancée to avoid scandal. Pen won’t settle for a sham marriage – if Zach wants to keep his Lone star lover, it’s his whole heart or nothing…







This sexy Texan was only a one-night stand.

Until he became her client—then her fake fiancé!

Penelope Brand’s hookup with billionaire Zach Ferguson was casual. Until he announces her as his fake fiancée to avoid scandal—and she discovers she’s pregnant. Now Zach demands they say, “I do,” for their child. But Pen won’t settle for a sham marriage. If Zach wants to keep his Lone Star lover, it’s his whole heart or nothing...


A former job-hopper, JESSICA LEMMON resides in Ohio with her husband and rescue dog. She holds a degree in graphic design currently gathering dust in an impressive frame. When she’s not writing supersexy heroes, she can be found cooking, drawing, drinking coffee (okay, wine) and eating potato chips. She firmly believes God gifts us with talents for a purpose, and with His help, you can create the life you want.

Jessica is a social media junkie who loves to hear from readers. You can learn more at www.jessicalemmon.com (http://www.jessicalemmon.com).


Also By Jessica Lemmon

Lone Star Lovers

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Lone Star Lovers

Jessica Lemmon






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07627-2

LONE STAR LOVERS

© 2018 Jessica Lemmon

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For Grandma Edie.

Thank you for putting that first Harlequin book in my hands. I wish you were here so I could put this one in yours.


Contents

Cover (#uae815dca-64b4-551f-929d-1b271ea93fc3)

Back Cover Text (#u9d506d36-63aa-5ec8-9a15-3fc58ddb78f9)

About the Author (#u6ec2592b-5f11-595a-9d74-9deee08a9df4)

Booklist (#u94774599-9ca2-5c4f-b884-e0992db8251e)

Title Page (#u62dcd1b1-a4b0-5428-a543-f330b5965e82)

Copyright (#uf0690535-6e5f-5b8f-a554-d77c01663ebd)

Dedication (#ubc2d5ade-678e-522f-9679-f31917685fbe)

One (#ua64d4206-110b-57cf-9a01-9b4893a28977)

Two (#u36e536a1-5b73-517b-8933-4fea6108df10)

Three (#u5edb6fa7-5a1f-53d0-8662-aeb1fa83b806)

Four (#u7ffe0092-ad53-5266-a084-e1c872640f5a)

Five (#u66651f31-fb3c-570b-9e01-da5e20e0ff6d)

Six (#ufecf035c-a7b6-59d8-8b01-f7c9a2fd32a3)

Seven (#u5df356ec-b350-5d26-bd74-7fd7f414b9b9)

Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)


One (#uabe5f72d-6942-5069-a507-4b21679a60ea)

Texas in the springtime was a sight to behold. The Dallas sunshine warmed the patio of Hip Stir, where Penelope Brand sat across from her most recent client. Blue cloudless skies stretched over the glass-and-steel city buildings, practically begging the city-dwellers to take a deep breath. Given that nearly every table was full, it appeared that most of downtown had obeyed.

Pen adjusted her sunglasses before carefully lifting her filled-to-the-brim café au lait. The mug’s contents wobbled but she made that first sip to her lips rather than to her lap. Which was a relief since Pen always wore white. Today she’d chosen her favorite white jacket with black silk piping over a vibrant pink cami. Her pants were white to match, slim-fitting and ended in a pair of black five-inch stilettos.

White was her power color. Pen’s clients came to her for crisis control—sometimes for a completely fresh start. As their public relations maven, a crisp, clean do-over had become Pen’s specialty.

She’d started her business in the Midwest. Until last year, the Chicago elite had trusted her with their bank accounts, their marriages and their hard-won reputations. When her own reputation took a header, Pen was forced to regroup. That unfortunate circumstance was rapidly gaining ground as her “past.” The woman sitting across from her now had laid the foundation for Penelope’s future.

“I can’t thank you enough.” Stefanie Ferguson shook her head, tossing her dark blond ponytail to the side. “Though I suppose I should thank my stupid brother for the introduction.” She lifted her espresso and rolled her eyes.

Pen smothered a smile. Stefanie’s stupid brother was none other than the well-loved mayor of Dallas, and he’d called on Penelope’s services to help his younger sister out of a mess that could mar his reputation.

Stef didn’t share her brother’s reverent love for politics and being careful in the public eye. She flew by the seat of her skinny jeans, the most recent flight landing her in the arms of one of the mayor’s most critical opponents, Blake Eastwood.

Blake’s development company wanted to break ground for a new civic center that Mayor Ferguson opposed. Critics argued that the mayor was biased, given the civic center was to be built near his family’s oil wells, but the mayor’s supporters argued the unneeded new-build would be a waste of city funds.

Either way, the photograph of Stefanie exiting a hotel, her arm wrapped around Blake’s while they both wore wrinkled clothing and sexually satisfied smiles, had caused some unwanted media attention.

The mayor had hired Brand Consulting to smooth out the wrinkles of what could have turned into a PR nightmare. Penelope had done her job and done it well. One week after the snafu, and the media had already moved on to gossiping about someone else.

All in a day’s work.

“You’re coming to the party tonight, right?” Stef asked. “I’m looking forward to you being there so I have a girl to talk to.”

Stef was younger than Pen by four years, but Pen could easily become close friends with her. Stef was smart, savvy and, while she was a tad too honest for her brother’s taste, Pen welcomed that sort of frankness. Too bad a friendship with Stefanie broke Pen’s most recently adopted rule: never become personally involved with a client.

That included an intimate friendship with the blonde across from her.

A pang of regret faded and faded fast as Pen remembered why she’d had to ink the rule in the first place. Her ex in Chicago had tanked her reputation, cashed her checks and forced her to journey to her own fresh start.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Pen answered with a smile. Because yes, she wasn’t going to become besties with Stefanie Ferguson, but neither would she turn down a coveted invitation to the mayor’s birthday party.

Those who gained entry to the mayor’s annual soiree, held at his private gated mansion, were the envy of the city. Pen had worked with billionaires, local celebrities and sports stars in her professional past, but she’d never worked directly with a civil servant. Attending the most sought-after party of the year was as good as a gold star on her résumé.

Pen picked up the tab for her client and said her goodbyes to Stefanie before walking two blocks back to her office.

Thank God for the mayor’s troublemaking sister.

Stepping in at the pleasure of Mayor Chase Ferguson might have been the best decision Pen had made since moving to Dallas. Her heart thudded heavily against her breastbone as she thought about what this could mean for her growing PR firm—and for her future as an entrepreneur. There were going to be many, many people at this party who would eventually require her services. The world of politics teemed with scandal.

After finishing her work for the day, she locked the glass door on her tenth-floor suite and drew the blinds. In her private bathroom, Pen spritzed on a dash of floral perfume and brushed her teeth, swapping out her suit for the white dress she’d chosen to wear to the mayor’s party. She’d brought it with her to work since her apartment was on the other side of town and the mayor’s mansion was closer to her office.

She smoothed her palms down the skirt and checked the back view in the full-length mirror on the door. Not bad at all. After way too much vacillating this morning, she’d opted for hair down versus hair up. Soft waves fell around her shoulders and the color of her pale blue eyes popped beneath a veil of black-mascaraed lashes and smoky, silver-blue shadow.

The dress was doing her several favors, hugging her hips and her derriere in a way that wasn’t inappropriate, but showcased her daily efforts at the gym.

I couldn’t let you leave without pointing out how well you wear that dress.

Shivers tracked down her arms and she rubbed away the gooseflesh as the silken voice from two weeks ago wound around her brain.

Pen had moved to Dallas thinking she’d sworn off men forever, but after nearly a year of working nonstop to rebuild her business, she’d admitted she was lonely. She’d been at a swanky jazz club enjoying her martini when yet another man had approached to try his luck.

This one had been a tall, muscled, delicious male specimen with a confident walk and a paralyzing green stare that held her fastened in place. He’d introduced himself as “Just Zach,” and then asked to sit. She’d surprised herself by saying yes.

Over a drink, she learned they’d crossed paths once before—at a party in Chicago. They knew the same billionaire family who owned Crane Hotels, though she’d never imagined running into Zach again anywhere other than Chicago.

She also never imagined she’d ask him to come home with her...but she did. When one drink led to another, Penelope let him lead her out of the club.

What a night it’d been.

His kisses had seared, branding her his for those stolen few hours. Hotter than his mouth were the acres of golden muscles, and she’d reveled in smoothing her palms over his bulging pecs and the bumps of his abs. Zach had a great ass, a better smile, and when he left in the morning, he’d even kissed her goodbye.

Stay in bed and recover, Penelope Brand.

A dimple had punctuated one of his cheeks, and her laugh had eased into a soft hum as she’d watched Zach’s silhouetted masculine form dress in the sunlight pressing through her white bedroom curtains.

Sigh.

It had been the perfect night, curing her of her loneliness and adding a much-needed spring in her step. Pen had felt like she could take over the damn world. Amazing what a few earth-shattering orgasms could do for a girl’s morale.

She was still smiling at that memory of “Just Zach” from Chicago when she climbed behind the wheel of her Audi and started toward her destination. One night with Zach had been fun, but Pen wasn’t foolish enough to believe it could have been more. As the daughter of entrepreneurs, success had been ingrained in Pen’s mind from an early age. She’d taken her eye off the prize in Chicago and look what’d happened.

Never again. At the gates of the mayor’s mansion, Pen presented the shiny black invitation, personalized with her name in an elegant silver script, and smiled down at the slender silver bangle on her left wrist. It had been included with her invitation. Dangling from the bracelet was a letter F, and she’d bet her new shoes that the diamond set in the charm was a real one. Every first-time attendee received a gift from the mayor.

The security guard waved her through and she smiled in triumph. She was in. The world of politics was ripe with men and women who might need to hire her firm in the future, and she would make sure every guest knew her name by the end of the evening.

Pen passed her car keys to the valet and walked the cobblestone path to the mayor’s mansion. The grounds were elegant, lined with tall, slender shrubberies and short, boxed hedges. Fragrant, colorful flowers were in full bloom thanks to an early spring. Looming oaks that’d been there since the Ferguson family earned their first dollar in Dallas, ushered her in.

Inside, she checked her wrap and tucked her clutch under her arm. When her turn came, an attendant walked her to the mayor for a proper introduction.

Standing before the mayor, was it any wonder the man had earned the hearts of the majority of Dallas’s female voters? Chase Ferguson was tall, his dark hair pushed this way and that as if it couldn’t be tamed, but the angle of his clean-shaven jaw and the lines on his dark suit showed control where it counted.

“Ms. Brand.” Hazel eyes lowered to a respectable survey of her person before Chase offered a hand. She shook it and he released her to signal to a nearby waiter. “Stefanie is around here somewhere,” he said of his younger sister. He leaned in. “And thanks to you, on her best behavior.”

The mayor straightened as a waiter approached with a tray of champagne.

“Drink?” Chase’s Texas accent had all but vanished beneath a perfected veneer, but Pen could hear the slightest drawl when he lowered his voice. “You’ll get to meet my brother tonight.”

She was embarrassed she didn’t know a thing about another Ferguson sibling. She’d only been in Texas for a year, and between juggling her new business, moving into her apartment and handling crises for the Dallas elite, she hadn’t climbed the Ferguson family tree any higher than Chase and Stefanie.

“Perfect timing,” Chase said, his eyes going over her shoulder to welcome a new arrival.

“Hey, hey, big brother.”

Now that was a drawl.

The back of her neck prickled. She recognized the voice instantly. It sent warmth pooling in her belly and lower. It stood her nipples on end. The Texas accent over her shoulder was a tad thicker than Chase’s, but not as lazy as it’d been two weeks ago. Not like it was when she’d invited him home and he’d leaned close, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

Lead the way, gorgeous.

Squaring her shoulders, Pen prayed Zach had the shortest memory ever, and turned to make his acquaintance.

Correction: re-acquaintance.

She was floored by broad shoulders outlined by a sharp black tux, longish dark blond hair smoothed away from his handsome face and the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. Zach had been gorgeous the first time she’d laid eyes on him, but his current look suited the air of control and power swirling around him.

A primal, hidden part of her wanted to lean into his solid form and rest in his capable, strong arms again. As tempting as reaching out to him was, she wouldn’t. She’d had her night with him. She was in the process of assembling a solid bedrock for her fragile, rebuilt business and she refused to let her world fall apart because of a sexy man with a dimple.

A dimple that was notably missing since he was gaping at her with shock. His poker face needed work.

“I’ll be damned,” Zach muttered. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“That makes two of us,” Pen said, and then she polished off half her champagne in one long drink.


Two (#uabe5f72d-6942-5069-a507-4b21679a60ea)

Zach schooled his expression—albeit a bit late.

Penelope Brand wore a curve-hugging white dress like the night he’d seen her at the club. He’d been there with a friend who had long since left with a woman. Zach hadn’t been looking to hook up until he spotted Pen’s upswept blond hair and the elegant line from her neck to her bare shoulders.

Seeing her hair down tonight dropkicked him two weeks into the past. Her apartment. The moment he’d tugged on the clip holding her hair back and let those luscious locks down. The way he’d speared his fingers into those silken strands, before kicking her door closed and carrying her to her bedroom.

He’d sampled her mouth before depositing her onto her bed and sampling every other part of her.

And he did mean every part.

They hadn’t discussed rules, but each had known the score—he wouldn’t call and she wouldn’t want him to—so they’d made the most of that night. She’d tasted like every debased teenage fantasy he’d ever had, and she’d delivered. He’d left that morning with a smile on his face that matched hers.

When he’d stepped into the shower at home that morning, he’d experienced a brief pinch of regret that he wouldn’t see her again.

Though, hell, maybe he would see her again given lightning had already stricken them twice. He hadn’t wanted to let her get away that night at the bar—not without testing the attraction between them.

He felt a similar pull now.

“If you’ll excuse me.” His brother Chase moved off, arm extended to shake the palm of a round-bellied man who ruled half of Texas. As one-third owner of Ferguson Oil, it was Zach’s job to know the powerful players in his brother’s life—in the entire state—but this man was unfamiliar.

“Just Zach,” Pen snapped, drawing his attention. Her blue eyes ignited. “I thought you were a contractor in Chicago.”

“I used to be.”

“And now you’re the mayor’s brother?”

“I’ve always been the mayor’s brother,” he told her with a sideways smile.

He’d also always been an oil tycoon. A brief stint of going out on his own in Chicago hadn’t changed his parentage or his inheritance. When Zach had received a call from his mother letting him know his father, Rand Ferguson, had suffered a heart attack, Zach had left Chicago and never looked back.

He wasn’t the black sheep—had never resented working for the family business. He’d simply wanted to do his own thing for a while. He had, and now he was back, and yeah, he was pretty damn good at being the head honcho of Ferguson Oil. It also let his mother breathe a sigh of relief to have Zach in charge.

Penelope’s face pinched. “Are you adopted or something?”

He chuckled. Not the first time he’d heard that. “Actually, Chase and I are twins.”

“Really?” Her nose scrunched. It was cute.

“No.”

She pursed her lips and damn if he didn’t want to experience their sweetness all over again. He hadn’t dated much over the past year, but the way Penelope smiled at him had towed him in. He hadn’t recognized her at first—the briefest of meetings at a Crane Hotel function three years ago hadn’t cemented her in his mind—but there was a pull there he couldn’t deny.

Pen finished her champagne and rested the flute on a passing waiter’s tray. With straight shoulders and the lift of one fair eyebrow, she faced Zach again. “You didn’t divulge your family status when I met you on Saturday.”

“You didn’t divulge yours.”

Her eyes coasted over his tuxedo, obviously trying to square the man before her with the slacks and button-down he’d worn to the club.

“It’s still me.” He gave her a grin, one that popped his dimple. He pointed at it while she frowned. “You liked this a few weeks ago.” He gestured to himself generally as he leaned in to murmur, “You liked a lot of this a few weeks ago.”

Miffed wasn’t a good enough word for the expression that crossed her pretty face. The attraction was still there, the lure that had existed as they came together that night in her bed twice—no, wait, three times.

Zach decided he’d end tonight with her in his bed. They’d been good together, and while he wasn’t one to make a habit of two-night stands, he’d make an exception for Penelope Brand.

Because damn.

“I’ll escort you to the dining room. You can sit with me.” He offered his arm.

Pen sighed, the action lifting her breasts and softening her features. Zach’s grin widened.

So close.

She qualified with, “Fine. But only because there are a lot of people here I would like to meet. This is a business function for me, so I’d appreciate—”

The words died on Penelope’s lips when a female shriek rose on the air. “Where is he? Where is that son of a bitch who owes me money?”

The crowd gasped and Pen’s hand tightened on his forearm.

Zach turned in the direction of the outburst to find a rail-thin redhead in a long black dress waving a rolled-slash-wadded stack of paper in her hand. Her brown eyes snapped around the room, and her upper lip curled in a way that made him wonder how he’d ever found her attractive.

Granted she wasn’t foaming at the mouth when they’d exchanged their vows.

“You.” Her eyes landed on him as the security guards positioned around the house rushed toward her. Zach held up a hand to stop them. He’d try and talk Yvonne down from whatever crazy idea she’d birthed before they caused a bigger scene.

“V,” he said, hoping to gain ground with the nickname he’d coined the night they met. A night soaked in tequila. “You’re at my brother’s birthday party. You have my attention. Is there something I can help you with?”

A big, bald security guy with an ugly scar down one cheek stepped closer to Yvonne, his mitts poised to drag her out the second Zach gave the signal.

“Write me a check for a million dollars and I’ll be on my way.” Yvonne cocked her head and waved the crumpled stack of papers in front of her. “Or else I’ll tear up our annulment.”

Tearing it up wouldn’t make it go away. What was her angle?

“Marrying you entitled me to at least half your fortune, Zachary Ferguson.”

It was laughable that she thought a million was half.

Penelope’s hand slipped from his forearm and Zach reached over and put it back.

“Ex-wife,” he corrected for Penelope’s—hell, for everyone’s—benefit. “And no, it doesn’t.”

“I’m going to make your life miserable, Zachary Ferguson. You just wait.”

“Too late.” He gave a subtle nod to the beefcake guard who circled Yvonne’s upper arm in his firm grip as he warned her against fighting him.

To her credit, she didn’t struggle. But neither did she go willingly. Yvonne’s eyes sliced over to Penelope. “Who is this? Are you cheating on me?”

Here they went again. Yvonne had asked that question so many times in the two days they were married, Zach would swear she’d gone to bed sane and woken crazy.

He’d had the good sense to get out of the marriage, which was more than he could say for the sense he’d had going in. The details were fuzzy: Vegas, Elvis, the Chapel of Love, etcetera, etcetera... Getting married had seemed fun at the time, but spontaneity had its downfalls. Within twenty-four hours Yvonne had grown horns and a forked tongue.

“Make it two million dollars,” Yvonne hissed, illustrating his point. The guard tugged her back a step, looking inconvenienced when she fought him.

Zach had money—plenty of it—but relinquishing it to the crazed redhead wasn’t going to make her go away. If anything, she’d be back for more later.

“Get her out of here,” Zach said smoothly, putting his hand over Pen’s. “She’s upsetting my fiancée.”

“Your what?” Yvonne asked at the same time Penelope stiffened at his side.

“Penelope Brand, my fiancée. Yvonne, uh...” What was her maiden name? “Yvonne, my ex-wife.” Yvonne’s eyes burned with anger—flames Zach was only too happy to fan. “Penelope and I are engaged to be married. It’s real, unlike what you and I had. You can contact my lawyers with any further questions.”

Yvonne shrieked like the eels from The Princess Bride as security dragged her away.

Another security detail, this one slimmer but no less mean-looking, stepped in front of Zach.

“How the hell did she get in here?”

His eyes dipped to his shoes in chagrin before meeting Zach’s angry expression again. “We’ll call the police department, sir.”

“No, don’t. She’s exuberant, but harmless.” He took a breath. Who wanted to deal with the paperwork?

“Very well.” Security Guy Number Two followed in the path of the beefy guy.

Chase took his place, using his extra two inches of height to scowl down at Zach. “Let me get this straight,” his brother said in that exaggerated calm way he had about him. “You’re engaged...and married?”

“Was married.”

“You didn’t tell me you were married.”

“Well, it only lasted forty-four hours.”

“And you—” Chase’s hawk-like gaze snapped away from Zach to lock on Penelope “—didn’t tell me you were engaged to my brother.”

“I—” Pen started.

“It’s not true.” Zach couldn’t bullshit a bullshitter, and his brother was in politics, so he was overqualified. “I wanted to refocus Yvonne’s attention.”

He would come clean with Chase, even though he’d been left out of the loop where Stefanie was concerned. Zach had known Stef was having some issues but he didn’t realize his brother had called in the cavalry in the form of Penelope’s PR services.

“You succeeded,” Chase said. He smiled amiably at Penelope. “Looks like you’ve secured your next client, Ms. Brand. I trust you can clean up my brother’s mess.”

A few truncated sounds that might have been Pen struggling for breath came from her throat, but she reined in her simmering argument to say, “Yes. Of course.”

“Excellent.” Chase lifted his voice to address the guests milling around the bar. “If everyone would find your seats in the dining room, dinner will be served shortly.” He turned his attention back to Zach and Penelope. “I assume you two would prefer to sit together.”

Zach simply smiled as he looked down at a wide-eyed Penelope. This evening had fun written all over it. “I wouldn’t allow my fiancée to sit with anyone else.”


Three (#uabe5f72d-6942-5069-a507-4b21679a60ea)

Penelope strolled into the oversize ballroom on Zach’s arm. The mansion boasted enough round tables and slipcovered chairs to seat the mayor’s one-hundred-plus guests. Similar to a wedding, there was a head table for the guests of honor. In this case those guests were Mayor Chase Ferguson, Stefanie Ferguson, Zach and the recent addition of Penelope.

The rectangular table was set apart from the others and dotted with votive candles and low vases with flower arrangements.

A few staff members from the mayor’s office were also seated at the head table. A plucky, talkative woman named Barb, Roger, who looked and acted the part of secret service, and a scowling, large-framed man named Emmett Keaton.

Emmett, who had been introduced as the mayor’s “friend and confidant,” had short, cropped hair, a healthy dash of stubble on his face and eyed Stefanie with disdain the entire time he ate his pear and Gorgonzola salad. Stefanie had glared at him from her spot across the table before rolling her eyes and drinking down her white wine.

Clearly there was no love lost between those two.

Penelope wasn’t surprised. Stefanie’s recent scrape had drawn attention to the Ferguson family—and not the good kind. It would make sense that she wasn’t favored among the mayor’s staff.

Speaking of scrapes, Pen now had another to deal with in the form of Zach’s ex-wife. Pen didn’t know what shocked her more—that Zach had married the unhinged woman, or that he’d been married at all. It might be a tie.

Zach wasn’t the marrying type. He was the one-night-stand type. Or so Pen had thought.

Slicing into the sun-dried-tomato-crusted rack of lamb on her plate, she kept her voice low and asked Zach the million-dollar question.

“Were you married when we slept together two weeks ago?”

His jaw paused midchew before he continued, smiling with his mouth shut, and then swallowed down the bite. He swept his tongue over his teeth and took a drink of water before responding. Pen didn’t mind the delay. The lamb was spectacular. She sliced off another petite bite, this time plunging it into the ramekin of balsamic dipping sauce first.

“No,” he finally said.

She patted her lips with her napkin. “When did it happen?”

“Last New Year’s Eve.” He glanced around the table, but no one was paying them any attention. Barb was chattering to Stefanie, and Emmett and Chase were having a low conversation of their own. Roger wasn’t at the table any longer. When had he left? He was sneaky, but then—secret service, so it made sense.

“In Vegas,” Zach finished.

Pen laughed, drawing Emmett’s and Chase’s attention before they returned to their conversation. “Cliché, Zach.”

“Yeah, as was the annulment.”

“And the need for our betrothal?”

Zach shrugged muscular, tux-covered shoulders. “You helped Stef. You’re a good ally to have.”

“You could have introduced me as an adviser. As anyone.”

He stabbed a bite of meat with his fork and waved it as he said, “Fiancée had a nice ring to it.”

“Very funny.” Fiancée. Ring. At least his personality was the same as the night she’d invited him home with her. He’d been cheeky then, too.

She smiled, glued her eyes to his and enjoyed the sizzling heat in the scant space between them for the next three heartbeats. Then she focused on her food again.

Once the dinner dishes were cleared, dessert appeared in the form of a dark chocolate tart, a single, perfect raspberry interrupting a decadent white-chocolate drizzle.

“Speech time,” Zach prompted his brother.

“Go get ’em, Tiger,” Stefanie said, clearly teasing him.

Chase stood and buttoned his suit jacket, then glided to the podium. From her side of the table, Pen wouldn’t have to so much as turn her head to watch. Unlike everyone else who had swiveled in their chairs.

Chase had great presence. Elegant. Regal. He talked and the world quieted to listen. She remembered the first time she’d seen him on television and thought—

A gasp stole her throat when warm fingers landed on her knee.

Zach.

Barb looked over her shoulder and offered a wide smile. Pen gave the other woman a tight nod as she reached beneath the table and removed Zach’s wandering hand.

Pen cleared her throat and refocused on Chase’s speech when Zach’s fingers returned. This time she managed to stifle the surprised bleat in her throat. She slanted a glare to her right where he lounged, elbow resting on the arm of his chair, his fingers pressed to his lips and his eyes narrowed as if hanging on to every word his brother said.

With the fingers of Zach’s other hand swirling circles on the inside of her knee, Pen couldn’t concentrate on a single word of the speech. A quick glance around confirmed that no one could see what was happening beneath the tablecloth.

She shifted in her seat, but before she could crush his fingers between her kneecaps, he gripped her leg with a tight hold. She swallowed down a ball of thick lust as he pushed her legs apart.

Pen flattened her hands on the tablecloth as Zach’s hand traveled from her knee and climbed the inside of her thigh. She closed her eyes, visions of the night they’d spent together flashing on the screen of her mind.

His firm, insistent kisses on her jaw, her neck and lower.

The deep timbre of his laugh when she’d struggled with his belt.

He’d ended up stripping for her while she sat on her bed and watched every tantalizing second.

She was snapped to the present when Zach’s fingertips dug into the soft skin of her thigh, and without warning, brushed her silk panties. Pen fisted one hand on the tablecloth, dragging her dessert plate to the edge of the table. Her glass of red gave a dangerous wobble.

She held her breath when he touched her intimately again, the scrap of silk going damp against his pressing fingers. When he pulled her panties aside and brushed bare skin, Pen bit down on her bottom lip to contain a whimper.

Then the mayor’s voice crashed into her psyche.

“To Penelope and my brother, Zach. Many congratulations on your engagement.”

She jerked ramrod straight to find every set of eyes in the room on her and glasses raised.

“Cheers,” Chase said into the microphone.

Stiff as a cadaver, Pen managed a frozen smile. Conversely, Zach moved like a sunbathing cat, lazily tossing his napkin on the table before taking Pen’s napkin from her lap and standing.

He offered his hand and a smirk, and Pen prayed that the flush of her cheeks would be taken for embarrassment at the attention.

Placing her palm in his, she surreptitiously tugged her skirt down and stood with him to accept the room’s applause.

Smooth as butter, Zach pushed her dessert plate from its perch at the edge of the table, handed Pen her wineglass and lifted his own.

Then, they drank to their engagement.

* * *

“I like this.” Zach touched the F dangling from Pen’s bracelet with his thumb. “Makes me feel possessive.”

Her hand in his, Pen swayed to the music.

He liked her hand in his. He liked her laugh and the sweet scent of her perfume tickling his senses. He liked the way she smoothly handled Barb’s question about a missing engagement ring.

Where is your diamond ring, darling?

Oh, we didn’t want to upstage the mayor on his big day.

Pen was the right partner to choose for this particular snafu. She was a woman at the top of her game. Touching her under the table and listening as her breaths shortened and tightened was a bonus.

“What are you grinning about?” she asked him now.

“I think you know.”

She hummed, not confirming or denying. Like he said, top of her game.

He turned her to the beat of the music, pressing his palm flat on her back and drawing her closer. She came rather than resist him, which he liked a whole hell of a lot.

“It’s kind of your brother to give first-time guests such decadent gifts,” she commented, redirecting his attention back to the bracelet. She waggled their joined hands so the pendant moved against her pale skin.

“You think that’s what this is for?” Zach joked as he clucked his tongue. “You don’t know the underground Chase Ferguson birthday secret.”

Her eyes widened slightly and he didn’t say more. Finally, she broke. “Are you going to tell me or not?”

“Depends.” He leaned in, his whisper conspiratorial. “Are you into multiple sex partners?”

“Zach!” she quietly scolded. A second later her lips parted in a laugh that warmed the very center of his chest. She took her hand from his shoulder to playfully shove his chest. If he wasn’t mistaken, she lingered a bit over his pectoral before resting her hand on his shoulder once again. “You’re impossible.”

He hovered just over her lips, testing her. “You’re wearing the first letter of my last name, Pen. That means you’re mine.”

Blue eyes turned up to his and for a second he thought she might give him the gift of saying, Show me to your room. She hadn’t been the least bit shy the night she’d invited him home with her.

Instead those blues rolled skyward and she hedged with, “Caveman.”

But she’d given him an inch not arguing that she was his.

“What really happens next?” she asked. The crowd was thinning. Only a few couples danced, while others ringed the bar or sat with their coffees at the cleared tables.

“Things wind down. Cigars are smoked. Bourbon poured. Stef and I have rooms here so we usually stay the night.”

“Well, make sure you tell me when it’s the proper time to leave. I don’t want to overstay my welcome on my maiden voyage to the mayor’s birthday party.”

“How about you don’t leave?”

She’d been looking around the room, but now snapped her attention back to him. “What?”

“You heard me. Don’t leave. Stay in my room. With me.” He pulled her closer, resting his cheek on hers as he spoke into the delicate shell of her ear. “Spend the night in my bed, Penelope. You won’t regret it.”

Her hand tightened in his. “I—I can’t. It’s...inappropriate.”

He pulled his face away from hers to find she looked as flustered as she sounded. Her eyes bounced from his face to his chest. Her steps faltered.

Zach dropped the pretense of dancing, and cradled her gorgeous face in both hands. “It’s not only appropriate. It’s expected. To this room of people, you’re my future wife. I would never let my fiancée drive home alone this late.”

A small smile found her face. “My God. You really are a caveman.”

“Aw, honey,” he said with a wink as he laced his fingers with hers. “But I’m your caveman.”

Her silken laughter as he led them to the bar was a good sign she’d join him upstairs when the night wound to a close. Zach wasn’t ready to draw the curtain on their evening yet, but he was anticipating getting her alone again. He’d give her the best night of her life.

Well, assuming the last night they’d spent together could be topped.

It was a challenge he embraced.


Four (#uabe5f72d-6942-5069-a507-4b21679a60ea)

“We’re turning in. Happy birthday.” Zach offered his brother a hand and Chase shook it, which Penelope found charming though formal. She wondered if those two had ever wrestled or punched each other in the face when growing up, and then figured they probably had. It wasn’t hard to imagine rough and tumble boys beneath their polished exteriors.

“Penelope, make yourself at home,” Chase told her. “My staff will get you whatever you need.”

“I’ll get her what she needs,” Zach said, taking her hand in his. “She’s my fiancée.”

At his offered wink, Pen let herself smile. Zach was a lot of things—more than she knew before she learned he was Chase Ferguson’s brother—but among his top qualities, Zach was fun. Now that Pen had taken him on, she was breaking her cardinal rule of not sleeping with a client. She’d break it this time—if only for him. He made rule-breaking downright delicious. He focused her attention on the present. Which was the exact reason she’d invited him home that night at the club.

An inkling of warning that her ex had cost her everything vibrated at the back of her skull, but the champagne bubbles swimming in her tummy drowned it out.

Her situation with Zach was totally different. The fake fiancée act was a ruse, true, but she couldn’t see a reason not to take advantage of another night with him. He’d been working that angle since he touched her under the table tonight.

Hand in hand they passed by Stefanie, who pushed her lip into an exaggerated pout. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were engaged to this idiot.” Stef shot a thumb toward Zach.

“Your secret-keeping skills are dubious,” he grumbled.

They’d opted not to share the truth with Stefanie—Chase’s idea. He thought it was better if she was in the dark like everyone else.

“You have a lot of secrets lately.” Stef eyed Zach, her mouth pulling at the corners.

“So do you,” he said. “I had no idea you were working with my beautiful fiancée on a cover-up.”

“It wasn’t a cover-up,” Pen interjected before these two sniped away her good mood. “We simply rerouted the public’s attention.”

“Thank you for that.” Stefanie gripped Pen’s arm and squeezed. “In all seriousness, I’m happy for you two.”

“Thanks, sis,” Zach said as a wave of guilt crashed over Penelope. She didn’t mind contorting public opinion but lying to Zach’s sister felt...wrong.

“I’m not staying here tonight,” Stef told them. “I have a date with another of my brother’s mortal enemies.”

Zach’s shoulders went rigid, a wave of heat emanating from his form.

“Just kidding!” Stef’s grin was wide. She bid them good-night and Pen stroked her hand up Zach’s tuxedo jacket to soothe him.

“Down, boy.”

His eyes snapped over to her, the heat there transforming from anger to lust—which was even more sinister.

“Boy?” Zach startled Pen by bending at the knees to lift her into his arms. The few guests left milling about reacted with gasps or soft laughs. Pen, eyes wide, held on to him, her fingers entwining in the thick blond hair at the back of his neck.

“Sounds like you need a reminder from the man who shared your bed a few weeks back.”

His confident smile, strong arms and twinkling green eyes consumed her. She bit down on her lip and remembered all too well the details of that night. Nevertheless, she said, “I could, now that you mention it.”

A smile spread his full lips.

Fake fiancée or not, for her, the attraction part of their relationship was very real. Penelope was going to take advantage of every exciting, promising part of it.

* * *

She barely had a moment to take in her surroundings when Zach’s muscular chest was flush with her back. He swept her hair off her neck and put his lips over her pounding pulse.

“I don’t have an overnight bag,” she breathed, tilting her head to give him better access.

His tongue covered her earlobe before he tugged with his teeth. Goose bumps rose on her skin and she reached up to palm the back of his head.

His mouth was as intoxicating as any liquor, but a thousand times more potent.

“I’ll at least need—” a gasp stole her words as his hand coasted from her waist to the sides of her breasts, teasing her “—a toothbrush,” she finished.

He replied to her complaint by sliding warm fingers over her bare back, then snicking the zipper of her dress down over her backside.

“Gorgeous. Damn, Pen. I love your ass.”

“Likewise.” She managed a breathy laugh and turned in his arms. The way he looked at her made her feel gorgeous. Like she was the only one he wanted in this world.

His fingers pushed into her hair and he cupped the back of her neck, pegging her with a serious green stare. “Tell me the truth.”

“About?” She raised her eyebrows in curiosity.

“Have you thought of me in the past few weeks?”

“Yes.”

Zach’s palm warmed her neck and shifted upward until he cradled the back of her skull. He dipped his head but didn’t kiss her, continuing his interrogation.

“Tell me what you thought about, Penelope Brand.” His dimple dented one cheek when he offered a lopsided smile. “In graphic detail.”

It was a smile she couldn’t help returning. Her hands fisting the material of his shirt, she yanked it from his pants and stroked her hands along his hot, golden skin.

“You first,” she whispered a hairsbreadth away from his lips.

She’d meant to be cute, but Zach’s smile vanished. His other hand went to her back and, pressing her until her breasts flattened against his chest, he answered her.

“Every morning since I walked out of your apartment, I wake up hard and ready. The woman in my head missing her clothes has blond hair, pale blue eyes and your name.”

His pupils dilated, the black darkening his surrounding green irises. “Your turn.”

She remembered lots of things. The way he moved over her, the way he filled her, consumed her, during their lovemaking. But mostly the way he laughed and made her life fun for that slice of time.

He made her forget her obligations or the fact that she’d once let a man trample over her business and her good sense. Zach made her feel beautiful and cherished and hot. Really freaking hot.

“I remember,” she started, tugging at his black leather belt, “your face when you came.” She unfastened his pants and slipped her hand inside, gliding her palm along the thick ridge of his erection.

Zach’s nostrils flared, his hands rerouting to her hips and digging in for purchase.

“You looked a lot like you do right now.” She massaged his manhood, tipping her chin to swipe her tongue along his bottom lip. That lip tasted like she remembered—warm and firm and laced with desire. “In control but in danger of losing it.”

She’d meant to spur him on. He didn’t disappoint.

He reached for the skirt of her dress and peeled it past her hips and stomach and over her head. He tossed it inside out to the floor.

“I’m in no danger of losing control, Ms. Brand,” Zach informed her, his lazy Texas drawl intensifying. “But you are.”

Her white lace bra was the next article of clothing to get the heave-ho. He disarmed the strap so quickly that in a blink both her breasts were bare, her nipples standing up, begging for his attention.

Attention they got.

Zach’s arms looped her back and Pen had to move both hands to his shoulders when he dropped his mouth to sample a breast. His tongue swirled and suckled and she let her head fall back, losing herself in the moment. That was what he did to her—made her live in the right now and not beyond.

Who could resist?

He backed her across the room and she went, turning to take in the bed they were about to make very good use of. The regal four-poster frame reached for the ceiling above a pile of gold-and-maroon bedding and pillows fit for royalty.

Thighs against hers, Zach walked her two steps until her butt collided with the mattress. She sat, eyes tipped to his. He stood looking down at her, shirt untucked, pants open, eyes aflame.

“Damn, I don’t know what to do first.”

“I do.” Pen reached for his cock again but Zach snatched her hand.

“Not that.” His smirk was confident when he hooked his fingers into her panties and swept them off her legs. At her ankles, he paused, watching her as he tossed one of her tall shoes over his shoulder, then the other. The scrap of silk went next. With a tip of his chin, he said, “Scoot.”

She did, naked and so excited she wondered if he could see the shake in her arms as she settled herself on the middle of the bed.

He unbuttoned his tuxedo shirt, his eyes taking inventory of her like she was his next meal. Shirt discarded, he pushed his pants and briefs to his ankles, kicking off his shoes and socks in the process.

Penelope had to struggle not to drool.

Zach’s lean, muscular chest was as mouthwatering as in her memory, the scant bit of chest hair whirling around two flat brown nipples. His erection jutted proudly between slim hips, which gave way to thick thighs. She realized she’d become lost staring at his body and quickly jerked her attention to his face.

Didn’t help.

His body was to die for, but the real panty-melter was the dimple indenting one cheek when he smiled. His jaw was firm and strong, at odds with the playful twinkle in his eyes. Some might say his hair was in need of a trim, but Pen preferred the longish style. Especially when he braced himself over her and a thick lock fell rakishly over his forehead.

One knee depressed the mattress, then another. Her mouth dropped open when he lowered his head to her stomach and swiped her belly button with the tip of his tongue.

Flames licked her core. This was the treat she’d enjoyed most with him, and when he dragged his tongue an inch lower on her tummy, a high-pitched gasp betrayed her.

“That’s what I like to hear.” He hoisted a brow as he pulled her knees apart and settled between her thighs. “Be as loud as you want. No one stays in this part of the house, but if they do, I want them to know exactly why you agreed to marry me.”

“Your money?” Pen teased to break the thick band of sexual tension strangling her.

“Oh, you’ll pay for that.” He didn’t offer another teasing lick, but buried his face between her thighs and doled out the promised punishment.

She took every lash she was owed, her fists mangling the duvet, her head thrashing on the pillows that one by one met their final resting places on the floor.

He wrung an orgasm from her without trying, and two more when he stepped up his game.

Panting, delirious with pleasure, Pen lazily opened her eyelids when he began climbing her body. Zach’s lips coasted over her ribs, breasts and to her neck where he bit her earlobe.

“Still on the pill?” His heated breath coated her ear.

“Yes.” She gripped his biceps, anticipation wriggling within. She wanted him. Now. Hell, five minutes ago.

He positioned his hips over hers, his erection pressing into her pelvis and so very close to home.

“Have you been with anyone since our night together?”

The question pulled her out of the moment and she frowned ever so briefly.

“I haven’t, Pen,” he told her, sincerity on his face. “Unless you count my hand and a few showers where I tried to erase the memory of you.”

He’d...thought about her. He was telling the truth.

Firm lips coasted over hers and a whisper of breath coated her mouth when he asked for her answer again.

“Have you?”

“No,” she answered.

She was rewarded with the roll of Zach’s hips and the feel of him sliding deep, overtaking her, filling her like she remembered.

His low groan reverberated against her breasts as she clung to his back, their bodies sealed by a thin layer of sweat.

He uttered a harsh curse that sounded a lot like a compliment before pushing his fingers into her hair and focusing his eyes on hers.

“You’re mine, Pen.”

Her eyes went to the bracelet sliding up her wrist when she looped her arms at his neck. The letter F dangling there like a brand.

“Say it,” he demanded, claiming her with another deep thrust.

“I’m yours.”

Another thrust had her pulse thrumming anew between her legs.

“Whose?” he growled, picking up the pace. All of her overheated. She knew what he was asking. Knew what he wanted. Pen threw her head back and gave him the answer he’d earned.

“Yours.”

“Say my name, beautiful.”

She did, on a shout. “Zach!”

The slide of his body against hers, the feel of his breath in her ear, the heat of his mouth on hers took her to new heights.

On another cry, she came again, and one more thrust brought forth his release. Sobering from her own tumble down Mount Orgasm, Pen watched Zach’s face contort into pleats of pleasure. The way his eyes squeezed closed, his lips peeled back from his teeth while his powerful body shook.

The almost surprised expression and awestruck wonder in his eyes.

He watched her for the space of a few heartbeats and then a familiar smile crested his handsome face.

She returned it, equally awestruck. Equally pleased.


Five (#uabe5f72d-6942-5069-a507-4b21679a60ea)

The morning after the party, Zach woke in the guest bedroom next to Pen, in the bed they’d all but destroyed the previous night. The comforter and blankets were on the floor, the remaining sheets twisted and pulled from three corners, revealing the naked mattress.

He was also naked and sporting the morning wood he’d bragged to Penelope about, but this time instead of him taking the problem in hand, she was willing to alleviate it for him.

She slid down his body and he watched her pretty blond head bob over his thighs, eliciting so much pleasure, he thought he might never recover.

He did, though.

Enough to make love to her again and talk her into a shared shower en suite. Soaping Pen’s body could become his new favorite pastime.

Dressed in the white, albeit wrinkled, dress from last night, she looked like a woman who’d been claimed. Zach liked that look on her a hell of a lot. He liked learning she hadn’t been with anyone since him more. Not only because he hadn’t moved on from her yet, but also because that meant they could have sex without a condom, which was his other favorite pastime with her.

He took her hand and walked with her down the staircase. His brother was dressed in a suit, and it wouldn’t surprise Zach to learn that he was working—even on a Saturday. Zach had pulled on a pair of pressed trousers and a button-down, but Chase had gone full-on jacket and tie.

His brother took in Zach and Pen as they entered the foyer, pausing with his cell phone in hand to smirk knowingly.

“Good morning, Zach. Penelope.”

“Mayor,” she said, chin held high.

Zach admired the hell out of her for that. In last night’s clothes, her hair sexily rumpled and cheeks pink from their steamy shower this morning, Pen didn’t care what Chase thought about her sleeping with his only brother.

“I have a meeting in thirty minutes,” Chase informed Zach, his gaze returning to his phone. “Legislature for...”

He trailed off as he ran his thumb along the screen. His expression blanked, accentuating his pallor.

“Chase?” Zach asked, alarm rising within. “Is there a problem?”

Chase blinked and offered a tight smile. “An old friend.” He gestured with the phone. “Haven’t thought of her in a long time.”

Her? Chase had a few hers in his past, but there was one more noteworthy than the others. But it couldn’t be...

Zach wasn’t going to find out anytime soon. Chase exited his house and climbed into the back seat of a town car idling out front.

“Sounds mysterious,” Pen commented at Zach’s side, curiosity outlining her pursed lips. Without digging deeper, she leaned in for a kiss and he gladly obliged. “I’m going to go. Thanks for...everything.”

“Don’t tell me you work today, too?”

She paused at the door and looked over her shoulder. “Your ex-wife situation isn’t going to go away on its own.”

Zach looped her arm in his. “I’ll walk you out.”

The valet had moved Pen’s car next to his in the cobblestone drive. Her white Audi sat gleaming next to his black Porsche. He opened her car door but before he closed her inside, stole another kiss for the road.

“You’ll be hearing from me, Mr. Ferguson.”

“I’ll be expecting a full report, Ms. Brand.”

She looked sleepy and adorable, as well she should after he’d kept her up all night. He opened his mouth to add that he was in no hurry for her to wrap things up with Yvonne, but instead he backed away and watched as she drove off.

* * *

A week later Zach was sitting in his office, Penelope on the other side of his desk. She’d come to Ferguson Oil to discuss the details of the Yvonne Tsunami, which was swallowing up way too much of his time.

The arrangement was far from the way he wanted to spend time with Pen. For starters, she was way too clothed for his taste, and secondly, his brother was brooding in the corner, arms folded over his suit.

Zach stood in frustration the moment Pen stopped talking.

“I won’t do it,” he said, his words clipped.

“Hear her out,” Chase advised from his position near the window. Dallas’s cityscape shone outside in the sunny day, several buildings dwarfed from Zach’s top-floor vantage.

“I heard her out,” Zach told his meddling brother. He softened his voice with Pen, but kept a position of strength when he leaned over his desk to address her where she sat in his guest chair. “I’m not giving Yvonne any money.”

“Zach...” Her pink mouth parted to argue and he cut her off.

“No.” His desk phone chirped and he pushed a button. “Yes, Sam?”

His male assistant rattled off the name of an investor who was waiting on the line.

“Zach will call him back,” Chase called loud enough to be heard.

“Yes, sir.” Sam clicked off.

Zach sent his brother a death glare. Chase was unperturbed. He was in one of the highest ranks of government. A wilting glare from his younger brother wasn’t going to rankle him anytime soon.

“Listen.” Penelope stood, eye level with Zach since he was still looming over the desk. Her pale blue eyes locked with his and she softened her voice. “Yvonne has threatened to make more noise about your marriage. This could not only harm your newly minted position as Ferguson Oil’s CEO, but also put a dent in the mayor’s approval rating.”

Zach fought a growl. Chase’s mayoral reputation had been overshadowing everything for the past decade. God, how Zach hated politics. Unfortunately, he loved his brother, so he had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time he did something he didn’t want to do for Chase’s career.

“It’s a relatively small amount of money to ensure her silence,” Pen continued. “The world knows you were married, but I wouldn’t put it past her to make up a few unbecoming stories and share them on social media. I’ve seen exes go public with false facts before.” Her eyebrows lifted in determination.

“And if she goes against the agreement?” Chase asked, stepping into their tight circle.

“She’ll have to pay Zach ten times the amount we’re paying for her silence.”

Chase and Zach exchanged glances.

“Short of that,” Pen said, folding her arms to mirror Chase. “Zach could get ahold of a time machine and steer clear of the Chapel of Love last New Year’s Eve.”

“I don’t like it,” Zach told both of them.

“You don’t have to like it. You just have to do it.” Pen’s voice was tender, reminding him of the gentle way she moaned when he was in bed with her three days ago. When he’d struck the pretend fiancée agreement with her, he’d hoped they’d share a bed more often than once a week. She’d been doing a good job of avoiding him on that front.

“Zach.” Chase’s voice crashed into Zach’s fantasy about the blonde in front of him.

“Fine,” he said between his teeth. “Now get out.”

Chase let the command roll off him. “I have a lunch with important people. Penelope. Thank you.”

“Anytime, Mr. Mayor.” When he was gone, the door shut behind him, Zach breached the few inches separating him and Pen, tugged her by the nape of the neck and kissed her mouth. She hummed, her eyelids drooping in satisfaction.

“Where have you been hiding?” He thumbed her bottom lip when she pulled back too soon.

“I’ve been working. On your problems and a few others.”

“None are my sister’s I take it?”

“No.” She shouldered her purse and tucked away her cell phone. “None are Stefanie’s. She’s been on her best behavior.”

“Have dinner with me,” he said as she pivoted on one high, high heel.

Pen peeked over her shoulder and Zach allowed his gaze to trickle down her fitted white jacket and short white skirt. Her platinum-blond hair was in a ponytail at the back of her head, the smooth length of it brushing her shoulder when she turned her head.

“I’m... I have to check my schedule.”

“You have to make an appearance with me. Especially if we’re going to approach Yvonne with a deal.” Yvonne believed Zach and Pen were engaged. Everyone who’d attended his brother’s party believed they were engaged.

“Okay. Dinner.”

He pulled his shoulders back, proud to get a yes out of the evasive woman in front of him. His eyes dipped to the cleavage dividing the neckline of a sapphire blue shirt.

“And after dinner, you can come home with me.”

She opened her mouth, maybe to protest, but smiled in spite of herself. He tucked two fingers into her shirt and pulled her closer, brushing her perky breasts.

“I’ll make you breakfast in the morning,” he told her. “And afterward, I’ll make you something to eat.”

She rolled her eyes but a soft chuckle escaped her. It was a yes if he’d ever heard one.

“I’ll pick you up at your place at seven.”

“I have to work late.”

Zach was already back at his desk. “No. You don’t. Seven o’clock.”

He punched a button and summoned Sam. “Make reservations at One Eighty for myself and Ms. Brand for seven this evening.”

“One Eighty?” Pen’s brow rose. Was she impressed? He hoped so.

“Have you been?”

“Once. With a client who shall remain nameless.”

“A male client?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Her Cheshire cat smile held. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Seven,” he reiterated.

“Seven.” She walked out of his office and Zach watched her go, looking forward to viewing her over candlelight the next time they saw each other. His phone beeped and Sam announced that the investor had called back.

Zach picked up the phone, but by the time he lifted his head, Pen was gone, his office door whispering shut.


Six (#uabe5f72d-6942-5069-a507-4b21679a60ea)

One Eighty was named for its half-circle shape. The restaurant hovered over Dallas, on the eighty-eighth floor of one of the city’s most shimmering skyscrapers.

Outside the smudgeless windows, deep blue skies were losing their light and the moon was making its nightly appearance.

Pen had stopped working at five, unusual for her, but then so were billionaire dinner dates that were personal rather than solely business.

“How are your prawns?” Zach, fork and knife in hand, leaned over his steak dinner to ask.

“Delightful. How is your strip?”

“Fantastic.”

They shared a grin over the low candlelight, and a ping of awareness that started in Pen’s stomach radiated out until it created a bubble around her and Zach.

Along with that ping of awareness came a lower, subtler thrum of warning.

She liked him. A lot.

Their chemistry was off the charts in bed, but also out of it.

She could’ve easily dismissed him as a playboy—a charmer who knew what to say to get a woman out of her clothes. Admittedly, Zach had done just that. But along with getting her out of her clothes, he’d also made a point to keep her in his life.

After what went down with her ex-boyfriend, Cliff, in Chicago—where she’d quite literally been bamboozled by a smooth-talking charmer—she should be wary of Zach.

But she wasn’t wary.

Maybe it was because she’d gotten to know his brother, the mayor, and Stefanie, his sister. Maybe it was because of the way Zach had asked her to dinner when he full well could have invited her to his place.

She’d have said yes either way.

Did he know that?

She sliced into her shrimp dinner—buttery, garlicky, lemony heaven. “I contacted Yvonne today and let her know you were willing to talk about—”

“Penelope.”

Fork hovering over her plate, she hazarded a glance at her date. Zach didn’t look perturbed as much as patient.

“Sorry,” she said. “I want to get this over with.”

His eyes narrowed, eyelashes a shade darker than his hair obliterating his gorgeous green stare. “With Yvonne, yes. You and I? Not so much.”

When she’d called him a caveman at the mayor’s party, she hadn’t been far off the mark. But she saw no reason to argue the point. The fact was she would wrap up the issue with Zach’s ex-wife and then they’d have no reason to see each other. She’d make her services available for Chase or for their party-loving sister, but Pen and Zach had an expiration date.

So why are you here?

Excellent question.

“Did you pack a bag like I asked?” Zach lifted his wineglass, which was as foreign as the black shirt and black suit combo. She’d been so sure at that jazz club that she’d run into a blue-collar guy moonlighting in slacks. Now that she’d seen him in tuxes and suits, her brain scrambled to make sense of it.

He’d seemed safer when he was a contractor. Before she learned of his bank account or his heritage.

Nevertheless...

“I packed a change of clothes, yes.” She took a dainty sip from her own wineglass. While she wasn’t sure how to define what she and Zach had or to know how long they had access to it, she wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to fill her head and heart full of sexy, vivid memories that would last if not a lifetime, at least a few years.

“Good. I want to show you my place. I think you’ll like it.” He took another bite of his steak, but not before dragging it through his mashed potatoes. A steak and potatoes guy. She shook her head as she tried to merge the two versions of Zach she thought she knew.

“Why did you leave Chicago? You seemed...at home there.”

“I like the city. I liked the work more,” he said. “But my family needed me, so I came home.”

“Do you mean Stefanie?” She could imagine the youngest Ferguson sibling asking for his help.

“No. She leans on Chase.” His smile took on a slightly sad quality. In a firmer voice, he added, “My father’s heart attack required surgery and a long recovery. He was under strict orders not to return as acting CEO of Ferguson Oil.”

“Doctors,” Pen said with a roll of her eyes.

“Worse. My mother.” Half of Zach’s mouth pulled to one side in good humor, his dimple shadowing his stubbled cheek. She liked him a touch unkempt. “Once Dad was benched, that left me to work for the family business. Chase is obviously busy and Stef is obviously uninterested. She’ll grow out of it.”

Pen couldn’t imagine Stef giving up her life as a socialite heiress to go into the oil business, but she kept that thought to herself.

“What about you?” Zach asked, turning the tables on her. She’d seen that possibility coming and had already decided she wouldn’t deflect. She’d been eager to leave her life behind in Chicago, but face it—the internet was alive and well. If Zach typed her name into Google, he’d learn about her association with Cliff.

Still, she inhaled deeply before telling him the sordid, slightly embarrassing tale.

“Ever heard of the phrase ‘the plumber’s pipes are always leaking’?”

“The cobbler’s children have no shoes?”

“Same idea.” She laughed, already feeling better about confessing. She sobered quickly. “I had a PR problem I couldn’t spin.”

Zach’s eyebrows lowered. He didn’t know.

“Cliff Goodman started out as a client. He hired me to repair his business’s reputation when he was accused of dishonest practices.” She’d believed him at the time—the research she’d done on him pointed to his upstanding reputation. “Once the issue was handled, he and I started dating and then—” she lifted her wine and ripped off the Band-Aid “—he became involved in my public relations business.”

Her date’s face darkened. Pen looked away from his intense stare. Diners quietly chatted at their tables, points of candlelight dotting the dimly lit room, mimicking the city lights outside the windows. The blue sky had gone black.

“Long story short, he went from involved to over-involved. I found out he’d been meeting with my clients in my place, cashing their checks and never following through. He left the city with a lot of my money after destroying my hard-won reputation. I didn’t want to leave Chicago, but I didn’t want to stay, either.”

“Why Dallas?”

“A college friend of mine started an organic cosmetic company. She lives here and needed help maintaining her pure reputation in the face of a nasty divorce. So she hired me.”

“And you stayed.”

“I did.”

They shared a silent moment. Pen wondered if he was thinking what she was thinking—that had it not been for her friend Miranda’s phone call, Pen and Zach may never have seen each other again.

“It’s a beautiful city.” Pen swallowed some more wine, smoothly changing the subject.

“You’re beautiful in it.”

See? When he said things like that, she forgot all about her past and her rules and her personal struggles.

She forgot everything—including her promise to herself about not letting a client get too close. Especially a male client.

The waiter approached after they’d finished their plates.

“Madame, sir,” the older man greeted, hands clasped in front of him. “Might I interest you in our fine dessert selections, or perhaps a glass of port wine or coffee?”

“No,” Zach answered for them. “We’ll pay and be on our way. My compliments to the chef.”

“Such a gentleman,” Pen teased.

“I grew up right.” He leaned over the table and then, tossing the idea of his humble upbringing on its ear, took her hand and murmured, “I’m making you my dessert, tonight.”

* * *

“Your post-dessert dessert.” Zach’s hand appeared from behind Pen, a glass of port wine in his grip. “It’s a tawny, which I prefer. That bit of vanilla goes a long way.”

She accepted the miniature wineglass and a kiss to her cheek. Zach rounded the enormous brown leather couch wearing nothing at all, another miniature glass dwarfed in his large hand.

Pen wasn’t wearing anything, either, but had curled up in a blanket she’d found tossed over his ottoman. A blanket she now opened to include Zach. He accepted, cradling one of her breasts and delivering a tender kiss to the side of her mouth.

They’d stepped foot in his expansive apartment and stripped off each other’s clothes in record time. She hadn’t so much as seen the bedroom yet, though she did make a quick stop to the bathroom. Zach’s apartment was a manly array of exposed brick, lights suspended from long, metal rods, his furniture deep browns and grays. The overall vibe was more industrial than rustic, yet had warmth that mirrored the owner himself.

She sipped the super-sweet wine, savoring the vanilla notes that Zach mentioned and quirking her lips at the way her dress had been haphazardly tossed over a chair along with Zach’s discarded suit. Their shoes made a line from the foyer to the living room, the first articles of clothing they’d kicked off.

“You have a really nice apartment.”

“Thanks.”

“No billionaire mansion for you?”

“Nah, that’s Chase’s style.”

“What about Stef? Does she tend toward high-rise apartment or sprawling mansion with horses and twenty-two bathrooms?”

“See, you think you’re being cute, but my parents’ house has twenty-two bathrooms.”

“I know.” She sipped her wine and peered over the tiny rim at Zach. “I looked them up and their house was in Architectural Digest. It’s incredible.”

“It’s ridiculous. But my mother likes to redecorate. With thirty-seven thousand square feet, she’s never at a loss for a room to have painted or altered to her ever-changing preferences.”

Zach leaned back on the sofa, his arm draped around Pen. She snuggled closer and he adjusted the blanket to cover them both.

“Do you get along with them? Or are you the classically overlooked middle child?”

A low laugh that might have been confirmation bobbed his throat. “I get along with them. I joke about my mother’s frivolity, but she’s a great mother. My dad became sick and her world stopped on a dime.”

“How is he now?”

“Good. Misses his bacon and sausage.”

“And strip steaks?” she teased.

“It’s Dallas, sweetheart. Men eat steak.”

“Right. Heaven forbid you do something as effeminate as not eat a cow.” She grinned, liking the way she could volley back at him. He was one of the easiest people she’d ever been around.

He moved in on her again and the kiss lasted a little longer than either of them intended. “Glad you packed a bag, Penelope Brand.”

Her heart kicked into overdrive when Zach set aside his wine and took her wineglass from her hand. His insistent kisses peppered down her throat and collarbone. When he reached her stomach, his hand flattened on the space between her breasts and he pushed her to her back.

Then he lifted one of her legs onto his shoulder and made her dessert.

Again.


Seven (#uabe5f72d-6942-5069-a507-4b21679a60ea)

“Tell me everything,” Miranda’s bubbly voice, on speakerphone, filled Pen’s office.

Pen had called her friend to thank her for the generous basket she was now digging through. She pulled out a tube of lipstick and spun it to examine the lush red color.

“I love this lipstick. ‘Red Rum,’” she read off the bottom of the tube with a laugh. Sassy. That was Miranda.

“It’s long-wearing, not tested on animals and one hundred percent organic. Now, if you don’t tell me everything about the man you’ve been having sex with for the last month, I’m going to come to your office with torture implements.”

She laughed at her friend’s colorful description. Pen had casually mentioned Zach and that she’d been seeing him.

“It was supposed to be one night, and then we had a two-week gap.” She lifted the basket from her desk and put it on the couch. She was so giving herself a makeover later. “But when I saw him again at the mayor’s party, well... I couldn’t help starting up with him again.”

“And you ended up engaged! It’s a fairy tale. It’s a fantasy!”

It was a load of crap, but Pen had to keep up the facade with everyone.

“Yes, I was very surprised.” That, at least, was the truth.

“I’ll bet. Zachary Ferguson is one yummy prospect if you don’t mind my saying. And he must be a real catch for you to have leaped in with both feet so soon.”

“Yes,” Pen said, unable to trot out any more false explanations.

“Listen, doll, I have to go. We’re working on the spring line and I have an appointment.”

“Thank you again for the gift.”

“You bet. I expect a wedding invitation.”

Pen opened her mouth to make an empty promise, but Miranda clicked off. With a sigh, she cleaned a few pieces of crinkled pink paper that had been used as packing in her gift basket from her planner pages.

May’s schedule wasn’t as full as she’d like it to be, but she had a few phone calls to return. She turned to her weekly page and checked off the line item that read “call Miranda,” eyes skimming past the list of messages she’d written down to return on Monday but hadn’t gotten the chance. And here it was Friday already.

Halfway to dialing a number for Maude Braxton, Pen’s eyes landed on a tiny red heart beneath Monday’s date, and she frowned.

She’d been on birth control pills since she was a teenager because of erratic periods, and since she’d been on birth control pills, her cycle was correct down to the minute.

She hastily flipped back to April, located the red heart, and counted the days to today.

She was five days late.

Five. Days.

“Oh, my God.” Her stomach tightened, her mind racing. Could she be...? No. No way. She was on the pill. And even if her trusted form of birth control failed her, she was in her early thirties. At her age it was normal for things to go haywire. There could be a perfectly good explanation. Stress. It could totally be stress. But when she flipped back to April and saw the name of a jazz club scheduled for eight p.m., another perfectly good explanation came to mind.





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