CHAPTER ONE
Jared
Of course she’s beautiful.
Another man might have been pleased that the woman who’d stepped out a blue sedan had legs that went on forever and curves ample enough to strain the top buttons of her sundress. Some might have appreciated the way the wind flattened what otherwise would have been loose clothing in the most deliciously revealing way.
Michawn Courter was sheer perfection, but I wouldn’t have expected less from Hamilton. He had excellent taste in women. Long dark brown hair with caramel highlights bounced and was loosely tied back from her face. Her eyes were dark and stunning but it was the smile she shot me that was nearly my undoing.
This one would be hard to pass on.
As a rule, I didn’t so much as flirt with any of the women Hamilton sent me. Mostly because I had no issues when it came to finding willing sex partners on my own, but also because Hamilton had a bad habit of telling women I was ready to settle down.
I wasn’t.
Far from it.
After what could only be called a late-life crisis, Hamilton had reshuffled his priorities and retired, selling his multi-billion-dollar company to me. His reasoning for changing his mind regarding the importance of having a partner was understandable. Two of his friends had died and he was feeling his mortality.
The same man who’d spent the last decade warning me to not let a woman distract me from success had made one woman the center of his universe. Not that Fara wasn’t amazing. She made Hamilton happy and anything beyond that wasn’t any of my business.
A recent back surgery for an old injury had her recovering at an exclusive rehab center with Hamilton at her side. My reason for being at his home in Newton was to facilitate his surprise for her and ensure its completion before their return.
There were very few people I would cancel meetings for and even fewer who would dare to ask me to. When it came to Hamilton I didn’t say no because I owed him more than I could ever repay.
But agreeing to marry simply because Hamilton was indulging in a late-life crisis?
That crossed the line of what I was willing to do for anyone.
Normally knowing the women Hamilton threw my way came with expectations I had no desire to entertain was enough to nullify any attraction I may have felt for them.
This woman was different and I didn’t like it.
Sporting a huge smile, she stood in the driveway with a piece of luggage beside her as if expecting me to rush over to assist her. I folded my arms across my chest.
Seemingly unbothered by my stance she bent to pick up her luggage and I sucked in a harsh breath. I’d always considered myself an ass man, but the kind of cleavage she flashed would have turned my best friend Calvin’s head and probably his husband’s as well.
Damn.
When she straightened, she brought her luggage in front of her, holding it with both hands and my mouth dropped open. Right there in Hamilton’s driveway I found a way to end wars. Governments simply needed to have this woman walk across a battlefield in that dress holding her luggage so her breasts pushed out and upward so high they promised to spill out. There wasn’t a man alive who could think about killing with that view and all his blood heading south.
World peace—done.
Holy shit.
She closed the distance between us, placed her luggage at my feet, and held out her hand in greeting. “Jared Seacrest?”
I nodded once in acknowledgement.
“I’m Michawn Courter,” she added.
I’ve never been a man who struggled to express himself. Confidence was the backbone of my success. It had been my swagger that had caught Hamilton’s attention nearly a decade ago. I’d survived an unsavory childhood by grit alone and achieved more than I’d ever dared think possible by never being intimidated by a situation or a person.
Still, something about the smile she beamed me left me temporarily speechless. I stood there, arms folded, glaring at her because what I wanted to do had nothing to do with giving her a tour of Hamilton’s homes and everything to do with getting her out of that dress. “You’re late,” I said gruffly.
“I am.” Her smile didn’t waver. “But I’m here.”
I leaned ever so slightly toward her. The air sizzled between us. “I won’t be for long. I cleared my schedule for this tour. Considering how late it is, it’ll be brief.”
She glanced down at the watch on her wrist then pursed her lips. “I would have been here an hour ago, but . . .traffic. If there’s somewhere you need to be, don’t let me hold you here. Mr. Wenham said both homes have staff. I already have a pretty good idea of what I’ll be designing so I don’t mind who shows me around.”
Not used to being so easily dismissed, I frowned. “That won’t be necessary since I’m already here.”
She tipped her head to the side. “Are you having a bad day or are you just irritated that I’m late?”
I lowered my arms and growled. “Neither.”
Her smile returned. “Then why don’t you show me where I can put my things?” There was a twinkle in her eyes that confused me. “If you have time.”
She glanced down at her luggage then at me.
I considered letting her carry it again, remembered the damage that view had done to my ability to concentrate, then picked it up. Something needed to be said upfront. “Whatever Hamilton told you about me was likely inaccurate.”
“All he said was that you’d be here to give a quick tour.”
I doubted that. “And nothing more?”
She raised and lowered her bare shoulders, a move that had me instantly imagining kissing my way over both. “Not that I can remember. We talked a lot about his son Gavin discovering his wife is pregnant with twins. Mr. Wenham said he’d recently married a woman he wished he’d met earlier and that she might have some mobility issues when she returned home. My goal is to not only bring the magic, but also ensure it’s all accessible.”
“The magic,” I scoffed.
Her hands went to her hips as the wind once again plastered her dress to her intimately. “Have you seen any of my work?”
“I have not.”
“Do you have any children, Mr. Seacrest?”