Married by midnight, p.1
Married by Midnight, page 1
Wes put his hand over hers. “I’ll marry you,” he said. “Where’s the chapel?”
The fateful words popped out of Wes’s mouth without reflection. Raw instinct, like a hawk diving for prey. Time stopped. He heard the jingle and hum of the casino hotel still doing its thing, but the two of them floated alone in a bubble. Veronica’s lips were parted. Her brilliant blue eyes were fixed on him, full of confusion.
As well they should be. He was a flirtatious stranger. She should tell him to get lost. He wouldn’t blame her. But he’d said what he said. He wouldn’t walk it back now.
He wished it was all about her. Veronica Moss’s splendor would have been enough to justify what he’d just said. He might have lunged for this chance even if he hadn’t been burdened by his agenda. Why not jump up to save the gorgeous damsel? Solve her problems, be her hero and score a killer excuse to be close to her, 24/7. What was there not to love about that scenario?
Just the truth he needed to unearth from the Moss family history.
* * *
Married by Midnight by Shannon McKenna
is part of the Dynasties: Tech Tycoons series.
Dear Reader,
I love a tale about a surprise last-minute wedding set against the glitter and sparkle of Las Vegas!
Now that her cousins are all matched up, it’s Ronnie Moss’s turn to deal with her aunt’s marriage mandate. If she’s not married by her thirtieth birthday—tonight—control of the company will be lost. So she plans a Vegas wedding.
But when her fiancé bails on her, she’s in big trouble...
Enter the gorgeous Wes Brody, who offers himself up as an alternative husband.
But Wes’s family has a dark, painful history with the Mosses. Ronnie can’t resist Wes’s seductive charm, but his secret agenda weighs on him. Because the more time he spends with Ronnie, the more he wants to give her everything, including his heart...
I hope you enjoy this fourth and final installment of the Dynasties: Tech Tycoons series! I loved writing this quartet. Don’t miss book one, Their Marriage Bargain, Caleb and Tilda’s story, and book two, The Marriage Mandate, Maddie and Jack’s story. Book three, How to Marry a Bad Boy, is Marcus and Eve’s story.
Follow me to stay up-to-date! Look for contact links on my website, shannonmckenna.com.
Happy reading!
Warmest wishes,
Shannon McKenna
Shannon McKenna
Married by Midnight
Shannon McKenna is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of over thirty romance novels, ranging from romantic suspense to contemporary romance and even to paranormal. She loves abandoning herself to the magic of a story. Writing her own stories is a dream come true.
She loves to hear from readers. Visit her website, shannonmckenna.com. Find her on Facebook at Facebook.com/authorshannonmckenna, or join her newsletter at shannonmckenna.com/connect.php and look for your welcome gift!
Books by Shannon McKenna
Dynasties: Tech Tycoons
Their Marriage Bargain
The Marriage Mandate
How to Marry a Bad Boy
Married by Midnight
Men of Maddox Hill
His Perfect Fake Engagement
Corner Office Secrets
Tall, Dark and Off Limits
Visit her Author Profile page at Harlequin.com, or shannonmckenna.com, for more titles.
You can also find Shannon McKenna on Facebook, along with other Harlequin Desire authors, at Facebook.com/harlequindesireauthors!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Excerpt from Snowed In Secrets by Jules Bennett
One
There he was again. Mr. Mysterious was giving her that wickedly sexy smile again from across the room.
Who was he? The reception that followed her keynote address was by invitation only. Invitations were for big donors. Ronnie could have sworn she knew all those people, by sight, at least. She would have remembered that guy.
Look away. Breathe. Veronica Moss smiled at the man in front of her and tried to remember what they were talking about. Franklin Dodd was a kindly old gentleman with a wispy white goatee who chaired the board of directors of the Kitsup Foundation, which supported scientific literacy in children. They were talking about policies to support math instruction in early childhood education.
Pay attention. Act intelligent. Look alive. Hard, with her bandwidth all taken up by the effort it took to not turn and stare.
She’d first seen him from the stage during the keynote speech she’d just delivered at the Future Science Conference in Las Vegas. It had been the challenge of a lifetime to her concentration, but she had not screwed up. Then, during the standing ovation, he’d locked eyes, kissed his fingertips and blown the kiss at her.
She had felt that kiss on every inch of her skin. That terrible flirt.
She managed an intelligible reply about educational policy to Dr. Dodd and turned to wave at a passing acquaintance. He was still smiling, waiting for her to gawk at him again.
Stop this girlish crap. She was a grown woman. She had made her life choices. The biggies, anyway. She and Jareth had obtained their marriage license yesterday at the Clark County Courthouse in Las Vegas. At midnight, she turned thirty, and to keep her promise to her aunt and cousins, she had to be married by then to ensure that MossTech, the huge biotech and agri-tech company founded by her uncle Bertram and her aunt Elaine, did not pass into Jerome’s hands.
She had put herself into this mess with her own hands.
Ronnie bitterly regretted the childish impulse that had come over her at her cousin Maddie’s wedding. She’d been so angry after Jerome, her dad, tried to ruin the event. He’d been spitting mad ever since Ronnie’s aunt Elaine legally mandated that her three grandchildren—Ronnie’s first cousins, once removed—be married, Caleb and Marcus by age thirty-five and Maddie by age thirty, or else watch Ronnie’s father, their uncle Jerome, take control of MossTech. A dreadful prospect.
Then, on Maddie’s wedding day, Jerome somehow hid the papers that had to be signed after the ceremony. Once the clock ticked over to midnight on Maddie’s birthday, it would be too late. But Maddie and Jack had gotten secretly married beforehand, just to keep their asses covered. Curses, foiled again.
Then there was that shady stuff her dad pulled on poor Marcus and Eve, setting them up so that it looked like Marcus had betrayed Eve. It was sheer luck for her cousin and his bride that things had gotten ironed out, and trust restored. She’d been so sick of it. Personally, too. Her dad had been harsh and critical ever since she could remember, and the night of Maddie’s wedding, her rage had boiled over.
Ronnie hadn’t been a part of her aunt’s mandate at first, being only a niece. That honor had gone to Aunt Elaine’s grandchildren. Her aunt felt guilty for having raised them to be workaholic overachievers, and her solution had been to manipulate the three of them into matrimony by waving the threat of Jerome over their heads. But after her dad’s embarrassing performance at Maddie’s wedding, Ronnie had begged Aunt Elaine to put her into the documents, too.
At the time, it felt like the perfect way to hurt her father. Deny him something that he actually cared about; i.e., controlling MossTech, wielding power, making money. It wasn’t like she could punish him by estranging herself. He wouldn’t care, or probably even notice. But this? Oh, this, he would definitely notice.
It took a while to convince Aunt Elaine, but Jerome had given her a terrible scare, so she let Ronnie talk her into it. Same terms. Same punishment if she failed. Controlling shares of MossTech would pass immediately to Jerome. A fate dreaded by all.
Of course, for her, the marriage mandate wasn’t as fraught as it had been for her cousins. She was a sure thing, safely engaged to one of the producers of her TV show. Jareth was handsome and smart, extremely competent, personally interested in her career, and wealthy in his own right. She’d been flattered by his offer, though she’d dodged setting a date for months. There always seemed to be some pressing reason to wait a little longer.
Not anymore. She turned thirty on the stroke of midnight, and the mandate had to be honored. Or else.
She’d get a video of the ceremony, held in a cheesy wedding chapel, officiated by the flashiest Elvis impersonator she’d been able to find, and send it to her dad. Ka-pow. The final blow. It was hers to deliver, after all the hell he’d put her through.
Then she’d go no contact forever.
Not that there would be much to miss. Derision and contempt. No tenderness that she could remember.
But she was okay. She’d learned to live without it. God knows, Jareth wasn’t the touchy-feely type. He’d been genial and
But she didn’t hold that against him. As a Moss, she had a deep respect for hard work and dedication. It was childish to expect the man to make a constant fuss over her. He’d made her show a huge success, after all. What was good for Jareth was good for her. It really was.
The problem was, after the heat of the moment faded, her gesture toward Dad had started to feel small and spiteful. She could have left things as they were. Dad would still have lost his chance to get control of MossTech, but she wouldn’t have been the one to strike the final blow.
Too late for regrets. She had to see this through, like her cousins had done. Spectacularly, too. It had been a last-minute miracle for Caleb, Maddie and Marcus to get married in time. And not just married. They were crazy in love. Over-the-moon happy. All three of them.
It made her feel almost...well, jealous. Left behind.
Which was silly. Jareth Fadden was a perfectly good fiancé. Tonight, he would become her perfectly good husband. Jareth had a lot going for him. He was creative, successful, ambitious, energetic. All qualities she admired. She had no cause to envy anyone.
Dr. Dodd’s talkative wife joined him, and over Mrs. Dodd’s shoulder, she saw Jareth keeping a sharp eye on her from across the room. As always, checking to make sure she was paying attention to the right people. He was forever scolding her for getting into conversations with people who in his estimation were not worth her precious time.
She gave Jareth a reassuring smile and wave, signaling that she was on top of it.
“Franklin, let’s visit the buffet,” Mrs. Dodd said. “I’m light-headed from the champagne. I need actual food.”
“Of course, my dear.” Dr. Dodd gave Ronnie a gallant bow. “Dr. Moss, can I get you a plate from the buffet as well?”
“No, thank you,” she said with a smile. “Go on ahead. I’ll see you in a moment.”
The Dodds linked arms and made their way toward the buffet. Over their heads, she saw Mr. Mysterious take a champagne flute from one of the trays circulated by the catering staff. He raised his glass to her. God, that smile.
Now that he was closer, she saw how tall he really was. He towered over the people around him. His shoulders and chest and face were broad, his jaw strong and square. Intense dark eyes under heavy dark brows. That grin was drop-dead sexy.
She smiled back, and lifted her hand with her engagement ring, fluttering her fingers so that the huge diamond winking there would catch the light and send its clear, sparkling message. Already taken. Done deal. Sorry.
Mr. Mysterious’s smile turned rueful. He smacked his hand against his heart, as if mortally wounded. Clown. She turned away, spotting another caterer with a tray of glasses going by, and reached for some champagne. She definitely needed to fortify herself.
Bridal jitters. This kind of thing always happened when one made a commitment to any course of action. It was just Fate, tormenting her with the lost possibilities, paths not taken.
She wouldn’t let it rattle her. The marriage license was in her purse, with two white gold wedding bands. She’d been wearing Jareth’s engagement ring for months now and had the snagged and ruined sweaters and scarves to prove it. The setting of the jutting diamond was pure destructive hell for her cashmere wardrobe pieces, but it was a magnificent stone, and life was a series of trade-offs.
“Hell of a rock you’ve got there,” said a deep voice behind her.
Ronnie spun around. Mr. Mysterious, at dangerously close range. His aftershave was warm and citrusy and delicious. “Excuse me?”
“Sorry. Was that too personal a comment?” he asked.
“I’m not sure yet,” she hedged. “Your wording was ambiguous.”
He held out his hand, and she offered her own before she could think better of it. Not an intelligent move, she realized, as his hand enveloped hers. It was warm. His calloused palm felt supple, like seasoned leather, like hand-polished wood.
“Not ambiguous at all,” he said. “I was referring to the rock on your ring finger. I have mixed feelings about it.”
I am not interested in your feelings about me, my ring, my rock. That was what she knew she should say, but all that came out was a wispy little “Oh.”
“I’m sorry to see that ring,” he mused. “But I don’t see a wedding band.”
The nerve of this guy. Ronnie gazed into his smiling dark eyes. “Have we met?”
“No. I’d remember if I’d seen you before in the flesh. I’m Wes Brody.” He shook her hand, which he had never relinquished. “I know who you are, of course. The photos in the conference booklet don’t do you justice. I’m a big fan, by the way. I’ve watched every episode of The Secret Life of Cells, many times. It’s brilliant. And so are you.”
Ronnie withdrew her hand, with a tug. “Thanks.” She tried to keep her voice cool, but it ended up sounding prim.
“Your presentation was amazing,” he said. “I could listen to you forever.”
“You’re very kind,” she said. “I saw you in the audience.”
“Yeah. I had a prime seat.” His grin widened. “You don’t even want to know the shady stuff I pulled to get a place right at the front.”
“No, I really don’t,” she agreed. “Let it be shrouded forever in secrecy.”
“So.” He paused. “Could I buy you a drink, afterward?”
Ronnie shook her head. “No. My fiancé and I are getting married this evening.”
Wes Brody’s eyes widened. “Tonight?”
“Yes. A wedding chapel, an Elvis impersonator who sings while we sign the paperwork, the whole shebang. And I do have a wedding ring. His ’n’ hers. In my purse.”
“Ronnie!” It was Jareth’s voice, with that sharp, dictating tone that made her hairs stand on end.
She could not snap to it in front of Wes Brody.
Brody’s eyes narrowed as he gazed over her head. “That’s the guy?” he asked. “The one who’s bellowing at you right now?”
“That’s him,” she said. “Well, then. It’s a big night for us, so thanks for the—”
Tweeeeet. A deafening whistle split the air. She flinched. Damn, Jareth. Here?
God, how she hated that habit of his. Hated it intensely.
“He whistles for your attention?” Wes Brody looked appalled. “He has the freaking nerve? In public, at a reception given in your honor?”
“Not your business.” Her face was hot.
“My mother would’ve had something to say about that,” Brody said. “She had clear, articulated ideas about how a man should behave around a lady. I didn’t always measure up to her exacting standards, but I tried. I knew what side my bread was buttered on.”
“Good for you,” she said, inanely.
“Ronnie!” Jareth’s voice got louder as he approached. “What is the matter with you? Have you gone deaf?”
Wes Brody leaned closer to her. “Pro tip,” he whispered. “Don’t marry that guy.”
Ronnie looked over her shoulder at Jareth. When she looked back, Wes Brody had melted into the crowd. A neat trick, for a guy his size.
“Ronnie?” Jareth scolded. “You’re in a daze! Are you deliberately ignoring me?”
“Do not whistle at me ever again, Jareth,” she said. “I am not your dog.”
Jareth looked startled. “Whoa! Since when did you get so damn sensitive?”
She set her empty glass onto the tray of a passing caterer and turned back to him. “I always disliked it. I should have told you before. But I’m telling you now.”
Jareth lifted his hands. “Okay, okay! Simmer down. I was trying to get your attention, while scrambling like a bastard to serve your interests. Samuel Whitehall invited us to the Observatory tonight, his luxury retreat in the mountains, and he’s offering us a ride in his helicopter. Just twenty people are invited, the who’s who of our business, and thanks to me, he’s interested in The Secret Life of Cells! Whitehall could take us to the next level.”
Ronnie craned her neck, scanning the room one last time for Wes Brody. She’d met Samuel Whitehall a few times. Not her favorite person. He leered and stared, he made suggestive comments, he was an “accidental” toucher and an enthusiastic shoulder-massager. He was also immensely powerful in the TV world.
