Be My Bride (Make It Marriage Book 8) Read online

  I don’t dance around the bush. I don’t B.S. I don’t play games.

  When I see something I like, I take it.

  Except, in this case, I didn’t realize what I wanted until she was on her death bed, worrying about her brother and her mother and anyone but her own freaking self.

  It wasn’t the right time.

  It was never the right time.

  And then she was gone.

  And she took my heart with her.

  “Hansley?” Brett’s voice charges through the phone. “You there?”

  Damn. I completely zoned out. “Say that again?”

  Brett pauses. If he were here, his sharp grey eyes would be blazing into me, scanning every inch of my expression for cracks in the armor.

  I’m glad he’s in London tonight. He and Shar were always too freaking good at reading me.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks. “Got dumped by your flavor of the month?”

  I groan. “Brett, come on. No one says that anymore.”

  He laughs.

  “And secondly,” I grab my coffee and wrap my fingers around the handle, “you know I don’t get dumped.”

  I don’t do relationships.

  Hook-ups? Yes.

  Casual flings? Hell yeah.

  My current distraction—a leggy blonde named Svena—blew up my phone last night with plenty of pictures. Her explicit messages had me demanding she come over immediately.

  When we were finished, she politely saw her way to the door without me asking.

  Svena is my kind of woman. Too bad last night was round two.

  I have a strict rule of conduct. Hooking up with a girl once or twice in a row is fine. But three times and they’ll start getting ideas. Expecting things that I can’t give them. A relationship. Commitment. A freaking wedding ring.

  Three’s the magic number. So I don’t put myself in situations where the lines can be blurred. It’s not worth the hassle.

  “Then what’s with that voice?” Brett asks.

  I lean against the desk and take a sip of coffee.

  It’s bitter.

  Why the hell does Brett stock this stuff?

  I turn and pour more cream in it. “Did you call just to check up on me?”

  “Hell no.” He pauses. “I need a favor.”

  "Name it.”

  “Can you pick up T?”

  My lips curl into a smirk. Tierra is Brett’s girlfriend. She’s also his heart, soul and reason for living. They’re so into each other and sincerely happy that it makes me reconsider my bachelor life.

  Sometimes.

  Okay, more than sometimes.

  I’m happy screwing my way through life. I am. But, lately, I’ve been feeling restless. When I’m not diving between a woman’s legs, making her moan or working with Brett, fattening my net-worth, I get hit with all these regrets.

  About Shar.

  And what I could have done differently.

  “I’m not going to make it back tonight.” Brett adds, dragging me out of my thoughts.

  “Sure. Tierra and I can chill. I’ll ask her what the hell she sees in you.”

  “Might bruise your ego.”

  “I’m not that thin-skinned.”

  “Says the guy who won’t step out of the house without gel in his hair.”

  “I do it for the ladies.”

  “Ha!”

  “Don’t force me to teach you a lesson, Brett. I might steal your girl tonight.”

  “You can try,” he says with a laugh, completely unbothered but the notion.

  The bastard.

  Not that I blame him. Tierra’s the kind of woman you can build a life on. Build a home with. Start a family.

  A woman like Sharon.

  I wince. Try to shake off the funk. “I’m at the office. Tell Tierra I’ll be there in fifteen.”

  “Are you still working on the Jenson deal?” Brett asks.

  “Yeah.” I run frustrated fingers through my hair. “They’re playing hardball.”

  Jenson’s the owner of a small corporation we’re trying to buy out. He’s holding on tight to his precious software and lengthening our negotiations. Though understandable, his hesitance is putting wrinkles in our attempts at expansion.

  Brett sighs. “We just gotta convince him his legacy will be protected if he entrusts his company to us.”

  “Should we offer more money?”

  “It’s not about the cash.”

  “We can buy trust.” I take another sip of the bitter brew.

  “If only. We gotta convince him he can trust us. Which is why you’re in charge of the paperwork and I do all the talking.”

  I smirk. “What? You think he won’t like my idea of a good time? I can take him out to a really nice place—”

  “Anywhere you take him would give the guy a heart attack.”

  “But what a way to go,” I muse.

  Brett’s voice turns serious. “We can’t mess up this Jensen deal, Hans.”

  “I know. I know.”

  “The London expansion was a huge gamble.”

  “Too many families depend on this company to eat. I’m not gonna screw up.”

  “He has a heart.”

  “Close your eyes and picture me flipping you off.”

  Brett laughs. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Sure.”

  My assistant looks relieved when I announce we should head out. She eagerly packs up her things and shoots through the door.

  I feel a twinge of guilt for keeping her here so late.

  I’ve been working a lot more lately. Partying a lot harder too.

  Anything to keep my thoughts locked out.

  To hide the darkness inside me.

  The emptiness.

  Damn.

  It’s been six months since Shar… I need to get over it.

  When I get to the parking garage, I climb into my car and turn on the radio. Twisting the dial to an alternative rock station, I tap my thumb against the steering wheel and cruise on the highway.

  Fifteen minutes later, I park in front of a trim building. The sign on the door reads ‘Make It Marriage’.

  Sadness fills me as I turn the knob and walk in. Tierra works here, but the real matchmaker in her love story was Shar.

  From the grave, Shar pulled their strings. Got her brother and Tierra closer together. Pushed them in that quiet but effective way of hers.

  I wish she could enjoy the results of all her hard work. She would have loved to see her brother falling for this woman. She would have jumped all over the place.

  Emotions clog my throat and, instead of texting Tierra to let her know I’m here, I take a seat in the waiting area and try to catch my breath.

  Most days, I can pretend I’m okay.

  But today, I can’t seem to escape this grey cloud hovering over my head.

  Darkness pulses in my chest.

  Sucks the breath right out of my lungs.

  Maybe I’m tired—I’ve been working on that Jensen deal for two days on three hours of sleep.

  Maybe I’m hungry—I turned down my assistant’s offer to buy me lunch.

  Maybe I just need to break my two-time only rule and call Svena.

  Or not.

  My thoughts whir.

  Storm.

  Crash.

  I’m about to head back to the car and just breathe in privacy for a minute when the door bursts open.

  A woman charges in. She’s got long black hair pulled into a ponytail. Skin the color of sun-kissed mocha with rich, red undertones. Lush lips.

  Her dark eyes ram over the posters on the wall. They’re couples, all happily embracing in their bridal gowns and tuxes. All glittering eyes, bright smiles and ’you want this happily ever after, don’t you’ gleams.

  She snarls at them.

  At the pictures.

  At what they mean.

  Then her eyes shift.

  Land on me.

  Burrow into me.

  My breath
catches in my throat as she stalks my way.

  Four

  Asia

  I see this guy sitting in the waiting room of Make It Marriage. He seems nervous. Almost… unsettled. It reminds me of how I looked waiting for my first consultation.

  My mind trips, swapping out his broad-shouldered physique for my slim build.

  I blink.

  That is me. Sitting there.

  Two years ago.

  My head down and my chest heaving. My fingers tapping against my cell phone as I struggle to hide how nervous I am about scooping up my totally non-existent love life and offering it to a stranger to mold and perfect.

  I certainly wasn’t doing a good enough job on my own. With plenty of inappropriate male genitalia pics and one creepy panty thief under my belt, I was ready for the professionals to step in and turn things around.

  What was the harm in getting a nudge in the right direction?

  If only I knew then.

  Thad’s ugly text stabs me in the heart.

  I can’t marry you.

  My lips curl up as I glare at myself in that waiting chair. Past Me has no idea how things are going to turn out.

  Hell, no one would have guessed.

  Thad and I were perfectly lined up on paper.

  Great communication. Check.

  Physical attraction. Check.

  Stable job. Check.

  No kids. Check.

  Similar values and world-views. Check and check.

  Sexual compatibility. Meh.

  But Past Me hadn’t stressed about the lukewarm action. Research assured her that a good relationship was built on more than the physical connection. Commitment required maturity and responsibility, not a partner’s ability to blow her mind in bed.

  Which is true.

  And I was willing to overlook that particular flaw in my relationship with Thad for the stability I would gain dating a ‘good’ guy.

  But after trying my hardest, it still crashed and burned.

  My feet barely touch the floor I’m so pissed off. So hurt. So freaking embarrassed.

  The wedding, the engagement—it’s flown completely off the rails.

  I like plans. I like order. That’s where my obsession with lists came from.

  I check those lists. Follow them. Do everything in my power to make sure my life goes according to the plan.

  And when my carefully laid plans fall apart…

  Yeah, I can’t handle that.

  Anger singes my veins.

  My vision clears and the Past Me is gone.

  I realize I’m just staring at the Make It Marriage client now.

  He’s still got his head down.

  He’s still shaking.

  I’m compelled to warn this guy, who looks like he has no problems getting women to date him, that he’s barking up the wrong tree. Maybe I can spare him from some of the pain I’m going through.

  “First time?” I ask, stopping in front of him.

  He blinks rapidly. Warm brown eyes trail up my body until they find my face. Awareness thrums beneath my skin, intertwining with the anger, pain and hurt. There’s something in his eyes. Some brokenness that I feel and respond to. He’s swimming in it.

  Then he blinks and the hurt is gone, replaced by a practiced smile.

  My heart is in pieces, but it’s still got enough juice left to flutter at how devastatingly handsome he is.

  I push the feeling aside.

  This isn’t about flirting.

  This is about saving a life. A future.

  I shake my head. “It’s not too late to turn back.”

  “What?” His voice crackles with amusement.

  “Listen up because I won’t say this twice.” Grabbing either arm of the chair, I lean in. Close enough that I can smell his cologne.

  It’s something light. Expensive.

  His lips part. They’re a muted shade. A dark pink.

  Not plump like mine, but not too thin either.

  His jaw slopes down in a sharp, cutting line. Sexy stubble shades his cheek, around his mouth and down his chin. It adds a masculine, rugged appeal to his perfectly wavy hair and the fancy blue shirt.

  I keep my voice low. “You have no idea what you’re signing up for. That fairytale in your head? Chuck it. It doesn’t exist. That perfect love? It won’t happen.” I jut my chin at the exits. “Go. Figure it out on your own. You’ll still get hurt, but at least it’ll be on your terms.”

  He keeps sitting there. Studying me.

  Soaking me in.

  I pull back, wondering if I’ve offended him. Not everyone is open to a total stranger’s advice and I probably look like a crazy woman with my eyes puffy from crying and mascara running down my face.

  As the silence lengthens, I try to take a step away.

  He snatches my hand.

  Wraps long fingers over my wrist.

  Holds on tight.

  His hands are warm.

  Pale.

  A shock of white against my dark skin.

  I should be scared.

  Some stranger is touching me.

  Some guy I don’t know.

  But I’m not.

  I feel… safe.

  Like everything’s going to be okay.

  “Who hurt you?” His deep voice rumbles and his eyes sharpen as if he can feel my agony and it’s killing him too.

  A stunned breath whooshes out of my lungs. “Excuse me?”

  The guy eases closer. His dark brown eyes pull me in like a magnet to steel.

  Those eyes are…

  Gorgeous. Soulful. Deep.

  Deep enough to drown in.

  His presence surrounds me.

  Cuts off everything else.

  He doesn’t stop moving.

  Not until we’re nose to nose.

  The proximity makes my heart pound in my chest.

  “Who’s the idiot that made you cry?” His eyes dip to my engagement ring and he arches an eyebrow.

  I pull my hand out of his and hide it behind my back. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does.”

  “Forget about me. I’m trying to help you.”

  “Help me?”

  “From making a big mistake.”

  “Hiring a matchmaker?”

  “Believing in love,” I snap.

  “We’re on the same side.”

  “You agree?”

  “Fairytales are overrated.” He lifts a shoulder in a dismissive shrug.

  “That was too easy.”

  He laughs. “I’m not here to get matched. I wouldn’t do that to any of these lovely women.” He gestures to the brides on the wall.

  “Afraid of commitment?”

  “Uninterested,” he corrects me.

  My eyes narrow. “You’re a heartbreaker.”

  “Better that than getting my heart broken.”

  “Again.”

  He pauses. Presses his lips together.

  I tilt my chin. “Only people who’ve been through it can talk like that.”

  “Maybe.”

  He hides it well though. I never would have guessed.

  Hesitantly, I ask, “What did you do? To get over it?”

  “Me?” He leans back. Rubs his stubbly chin. “Still not over it.”

  “That must be tough.”

  He shrugs. “I made a promise to never put myself in that position again.”

  “Not at that stage yet.” I point to my chest

  “Where are you?”

  “Anger.”

  His lips quirk up. “The violent route?”

  “My next stop is his place.”

  “Let me guess. You’ll slap him? Maybe kick his junk?”

  “I’ll key his car.”

  His lips twitch again. “You got a good lawyer?”

  “Do I need one?”

  “There’s a fine.”

  “I’ll drain my bank account.”

  “That’s a lot of cash to part with for temporary relief.” He look
s me up and down, his gaze darkening. “There are plenty of other, more enjoyable ways to get over him that don’t involve jail time.”

  “You’re suggesting I get under someone else?”

  “I offer myself as a sacrifice. It’s a noble cause.”

  “How benevolent.”

  He laughs.

  “I’m more of a revenge girl myself.” I tilt my head, ignoring the less-than-subtle invitation to spend the night with him. “And I don’t trust guys who sound like they’ve been on the receiving end of many ruined paint jobs.”

  His shoulders lift and then fall back down.

  Guilty.

  “You’d be letting him off easy.”

  “Doubt you’d say that if you knew how much he adores that truck.”

  “Should I clear my schedule? Destroy him with you?” His dark eyes meet mine, dragging me in.

  “TP his house?”

  “I’ll spring for the toilet paper.”

  “Would you?” I chuckle.

  He laughs, a deep, rich sound that reminds me of timber rolling around in thick drums.

  “Hansley?” a voice calls.

  I turn and spot Tierra descending the stairs. She’s a gorgeous woman with dark skin and the biggest, most voluminous natural hair I’ve ever seen.

  She grips the straps of her purse. "Am I interrupting?”

  Hansley shakes his head. “We were just having a chat.”

  I ease back as I realize how close I was standing to this attractive stranger.

  Normally, I’m not that impulsive.

  Any other day, any other man, and I’d be horrified.

  But, strangely, I’m not.

  I feel better after talking to him.

  Chewing on my bottom lip, I step back again.

  In a second, Hansley’s on his feet and standing in front of me. I have to crane my neck just to meet his eyes. The man is six feet of pure muscle and dirty charm.

  “Here.”

  “What’s this?” I reach out and take the business card.

  “In case you reconsider my offer.” His gaze lingers on me, hot and full of promise. “Or if you need a distraction.”

  My teeth snag on my bottom lip. Something tells me that most girls would take that offer in a heartbeat.

  I stare at the card. Then at him. “The pain won’t go away if we use each other.”

  The darkness spreads in his eyes. It flashes. Thick. Heavy.

  He can’t hide it.