Convenient Cowgirl Bride Page 6

  Chase Barron had everything going for him. What was not to love? Her brain wanted to go there, figure out all the cons, but it was foggy in her head and he smelled good. The music was relaxing. Expensive champagne buzzed in her blood.

  Then he kissed her. The world pretty much stopped. Her feet stopped moving as her hands tangled in his hair. She pressed against him, her hips seeking the welcoming hardness of his body. His tongue teased her mouth open, swept inside, seduced her with a slow, sensual mating.

  His phone buzzed. Chase didn’t break the kiss but she felt him pull out his cell. He whispered into the kiss, “All clear, kitten. Time to go home.”

  * * *

  Savvie shot straight up in bed, heart pounding and ears aching from a high-pitched screech. She couldn’t remember where she was, or what had happened last night. Drunk. Chase had gotten her drunk on champagne. She’d fallen asleep—okay, passed out—in his car. She didn’t remember him carrying her to his apartment, barely remembered undressing in the bathroom, then falling into bed. She panicked, but calmed when she realized she wore a tank and sleep pants. That was good. The rest was bad. Her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and her brain hurt. A lot. The screaming didn’t help. She squinted her eyes closed, opened them, stared.

  A blonde woman in a designer dress that probably cost more than Savvie’s entire wardrobe—well, her wardrobe before yesterday, anyway—and wearing shoes looking like they’d hurt to walk in stood in the doorway of the bedroom. The screams continued as the woman’s face turned red, and she jabbed her index finger in Savvie’s direction.

  “What are you doing in my fiancé’s bed? Getoutgetoutgetout! How dare you!”

  What the hell? Savvie’s brain caught up with her hearing. Fiancé? Chase didn’t mention having a fiancée when he’d proposed this crazy arrangement. He’d mentioned a woman his father wanted him to marry, but he’d said there was nothing finalized. Before she could say anything, the woman screeched again, and two men appeared—one tall, one shorter and rounder.

  “Who are you?” the tall one demanded.

  Savannah had to think a minute. This was obviously Cyrus Barron, Chase’s father. The man had the same look—dark hair but with silver at the temples, piercing brown eyes the color of frozen coffee, high cheekbones and a sharp chin that was currently jutting in her direction. She threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. Better to face them standing on two feet. Luckily, she wasn’t one for sexy lingerie. Her spaghetti-strap camisole and cotton sleep pants hid her assets from the appraising looks she received from the men.

  “Yes, just who are you?” the woman repeated.

  It was on the tip of her tongue to retort, “Savannah Wolfe,” but she wasn’t. Not anymore. For at least the next twelve months, she was Savannah Barron. So that’s how she answered the question.

  Seven

  “Barron?” The three all spoke at once.

  “Yes. Barron. Technically, I suppose I’m Mrs. Chase Barron.” Where the hell was her so-called husband? If Chase had cut and run to leave her facing this alone she’d turn him into a steer just as soon as she got her hands on a knife.

  “That’s impossible.” The woman looked both shocked and hurt, and her voice trembled.

  “According to our marriage certificate, it’s not only possible but true.”

  “But Chase is mine.” The blonde turned to the slightly rotund man at her side and stamped her foot. “Daddy, you promised him to me.”

  Seriously? Savannah couldn’t choke back the laughter bubbling in her throat. “Sorry to disappoint you, princess, but I’m married to Chase.”

  “But you can’t be. Daddy, make her go away. Chase is mine. Write her a check or something.”

  Ouch. That hit a little too close to home, but while she didn’t love Chase, Savvie couldn’t really wish this bimbo on him. “Write me a check?” Her voice came out soft but clipped and coated in icicles.

  “You just need to go away.”

  “Since I’m his wife that’s not happenin’.”

  “No, you aren’t. You can’t be his wife.”

  “Want to see the license?” She hoped it had been legally filed. Maybe that’s where Chase had gone. If so, she wouldn’t fix him. Yet.

  “It’s a fake. It has to be. You trapped him into this. Do you have him tied up and drugged?”

  Savvie stood there with her mouth hanging open. “Seriously? You think I drugged Chase Barron, dragged him off to marry me and even now have him tied up somewhere?” She gestured toward the bed behind them. “Are you stupid or something?”

  “You can’t talk to me that way.”

  “Sure I can.”

  Luckily, Chase picked that moment to slide into the room. She hadn’t heard him come into the apartment.

  He skirted his father, the other man and the woman, coming straight to Savvie’s side. Chase curled his arm around her shoulder and dropped a kiss on her temple. “Morning, wildcat. Sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. Security called. We had a situation on the casino floor I had to take care of.”

  “No worries, hoss. I was just getting to know—” she waved her hand at the three other people “—them. We were discussing the status of our marriage.”

  “Yeah, I gathered that. You want to throw on some clothes? I’ll order up breakfast.”

  “Works for me.”

  Chase turned her in his arms and dropped a kiss on her surprised mouth. His eyes twinkled as he winked at her. “Love ya, kitten,” he murmured. Then he was gone, ushering their guests out of the bedroom by herding them in front of him and shutting the door.

  She stood there, missing the warmth of his body and wondering what had just happened. His words were a throwaway, meant for their audience, but they still singed a spot next to her heart. Savvie had to be very careful from here on out. This man was proving to be most unexpected—in all the wrong ways.

  * * *

  Out in the living room, Chase dialed room service and ordered up a breakfast buffet. He was very careful to keep Janiece on the opposite side of any piece of furniture he could use to obstruct her from approaching him. Hopefully, Savannah wouldn’t take long to appear. He hadn’t meant for her to face down the old man alone. Chase would still have been in bed with her when his father arrived if the morning-shift pit boss hadn’t alerted Security, who then alerted him and Tucker, about a card cheat on the floor. The guy had already taken the casino for half a million before they could verify he was cheating and then deal with the situation.

  After their late-night arrival, Chase had figured his father and the Carrolls would sleep in. He’d figured wrong. Then it occurred to him that they’d accessed his apartment on their own. From the looks of things, Savannah had not gotten out of bed to answer the door. Tucker had been with him down in the casino. That meant his father had access to Chase’s personal space. Whoever had given Cyrus the ability to get in was fired. Period. No second chances. Chase hired people who were loyal to him. Not to his father.

  The door to the bedroom popped open and Savvie strolled out. Chase immediately forgot about the security problems. Dang, but the woman looked fine. She wore a new pair of jeans that sculpted her long, muscular legs and her very nice butt. The lacy T-shirt left just enough to his imagination, and he shifted uncomfortably, a move his father noted. Chase plastered on his happy groom face—which was far less difficult than it should be given the circumstances—and held his hand out for her to join him. He attempted to read her expression. This was the first huge test of their fabricated relationship, since getting his father to believe their marriage was real hinged on her actions.

  Savannah approached with a smile and took his hand without hesitation. She sidled up to him, slipping under his arm like doing so was the most natural thing in the world. Chase let out a mental whew.

  “Are you going t
o make introductions, hoss?” Her husky voice washed over him, and he had to resist kissing her again.

  “Savannah, I’d like you to meet my father, Cyrus Barron, his business associate, Malcolm Carroll, and Mal’s daughter, Janiece.” Savvie acknowledged each with a dip of her head, but she stayed glued to his side and didn’t speak. “Shall we get comfortable while we wait for breakfast?”

  “Y’all pardon me a sec while I put some coffee on. My brain doesn’t work until I’ve had that morning shot of caffeine.” Savannah disengaged and ducked into the kitchen.

  “Dad, Mal, Janiece, make yourselves comfortable. I’ll give Savannah a hand.” He followed her into the kitchen. The idea of being alone in uncomfortable silence with those three was totally unappealing. The thought of a few stolen moments with Savannah? Priceless.

  He watched her set up the coffeemaker, then bustle around the kitchen, getting mugs, sugar and cream, and arranging a serving tray while the coffee dripped into the carafe. She paused to look at him. “What’s the plan, Chase?” Her voice was a whisper.

  “I meant to be here. Sorry.” He’d wanted to kiss her awake but he couldn’t admit that to her, especially with her hands-off policy in full force and effect. Still, he hadn’t meant for her to face the old man on her own.

  She lifted her shoulders in a forgiving shrug. “No biggie. Just FYI? That woman has the voice of a harpy and she was not happy to find me in your bed. Not the way I pictured waking up.”

  He stepped closer and pulled her into a hug. He couldn’t help himself. Easier to plot, he figured, with her ear right there for him to whisper into. “Our bed, kitten,” he corrected. “Sorry about the hangover. I ordered a bottle of champagne with the orange juice.”

  “Hair of the dog? No, thanks! I don’t normally drink. Besides, that woman pretty much screeched the hangover out of me.”

  Chase choked back a laugh, then stiffened as his father came through the door and interrupted. “Really, Chase? You can’t keep your hands off...her with your fiancée in the next room?”

  “Her name is Savannah, Dad, and she’s my wife. Unless you plan on me being a bigamist, I don’t have a fiancée.”

  “Yo. Hello. Standing right here.” Savvie pushed away, but didn’t leave his side. “I know you’re Chase’s father, sir. For that you’re due respect, but respect goes both ways. Don’t talk down to me, and don’t treat me like a bimbo. I assure you, I am not one.”

  Chase winced and wished she’d remained silent. Before he could get between her and his father, Cyrus cut him off.

  “I believe you to be a calculating tramp who got her claws into my very impressionable son.” The old man pulled a checkbook out of his suit pocket and flipped it open, pen in hand. “Your kind is always after the money. How much to get rid of you?”

  Chase made a futile grab for Savvie’s arm, but she was out of his reach and right up in his father’s face before he could fully react.

  “My kind? You mean female? Or Choctaw?”

  “I will not stand here and allow Chase to make a fool of himself.”

  “The only person making a fool of himself is you. You walk into our home and make insinuations you have no right to make.” She glanced at the checkbook and smiled. “You don’t have enough zeros to buy me off, Mr. Barron. I’m married to your son and I intend to stay that way.” She turned around and walked back to Chase.

  Once again at his side, she confronted his father. “Just FYI? I didn’t marry him for his money. If you believe that’s the only reason a woman would marry Chase, then you’re a sorry son of a buck and I pity you.”

  Wow. Chase didn’t know whether to cringe, run or kiss her. No one had ever stood up for him like that. He certainly hadn’t expected it from a woman he’d just met, whose loyalty he was basically buying. He straightened his shoulders and faced the old man. “We’re married, Dad. For better or worse. Get used to the idea.” He glanced at the TAG Heuer watch on his wrist. “Breakfast will be here any moment. You and the Carrolls are welcome to stay. Personally, I’d prefer you get the hell out so I can enjoy the small bit of honeymoon we’ve got left. Just know, if you stay, you will treat my wife with respect.”

  A loud knock sounded before Cyrus could answer. Chase dropped another kiss on Savvie’s temple. “I’ll go let room service in, kitten. Can you handle the coffee?”

  “Got it, hoss.”

  He grinned, unable to help himself. “Yeah, you definitely got it, hon.”

  * * *

  To say breakfast was strained would have been a huge understatement. Once Tucker arrived, Savvie kept her mouth shut and did her best to ignore Janiece’s whining and pitiful attempts at flirting with Chase. He brushed his hand over Savvie’s leg every time the other woman opened her mouth, an attempt to let her know things would be okay, she supposed. Cyrus continued to glare, which wasn’t conducive to a healthy appetite. Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut. What had possessed her to take on the patriarch of the Barron clan? She needed to stay off Mr. Barron’s radar big-time, and antagonizing the man was not the way to make that happen.

  She managed to choke down some scrambled eggs and bacon, relying mostly on the strong coffee she’d brewed. Hardly anyone else ate. Just Chase. He shoveled food into his mouth like a bear stocking up for hibernation. Looking at him, one would think everything was hunky-dory. When he pushed his plate away, he reached for the champagne chilling in a bucket of ice, and popped the cork on it. He filled the crystal flutes on the tray next to the ice bucket and passed them around.

  Remaining on his feet, he raised his glass in her direction. “Here’s to my beautiful wife. She’s already made my life better.”

  He extended his glass toward her, so Savvie carefully clinked hers against his. The fragile crystal pinged. She took a sip, then extended her glass. “And here’s to my handsome husband, the man who surprises me constantly.”

  They clinked again, then touched glasses with the flute Tucker held out. The three of them each took a sip, while the others didn’t move, the flutes sitting untouched next to their plates.

  “I cannot believe you are participating in this travesty, Tucker.” Cyrus turned on his nephew. “I mistakenly believed you were the one with some intelligence and sense.”

  Savvie’s phone picked that moment to ring. She fished it out of her hip pocket, glanced at the screen and cringed inwardly. “I... Sorry. My mother. I need to take this call.” She pushed away from the table before either Chase or Tucker could move to hold her chair. She ducked down the hallway as she answered and didn’t stop walking until she was in the bedroom with the door shut.

  “Mom?”

  “You’ve been holding out on me, Savannah.” Her mother’s tone grated. Kayla Wolfe had been drinking.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Are you pregnant?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. Did that SOB get you pregnant? I saw you and Chase Barron on that Inside Celebrity show. They said you got married. At least you were smart enough to get a ring on your finger. Not like some people.”

  Savannah closed her eyes and resisted the urge to bang her head against the wall. She knew exactly who that “some people” referred to. Every time the Barron name came up, her mother alluded to Kaden’s mom, Rose, insinuating she’d had an affair with Cyrus Barron and Kaden was an illegitimate Barron son.

  “No, Mom. I’m not pregnant.”

  “Good. Still, married to a Barron? You better get lots of money to send home to me, baby girl.”

  A soft rap on the door had her scrambling. “I have to go, Mom.”

  “Send money, baby. Tom needs a new truck.”

  Chase opened the door and peeked around its edge, a questioning expression on his face. She waved him in as she signed off. “Bye, Mom.”

  “Problem?”<
br />
  She plastered a smile on her face. “No. She was just calling to congratulate us.”

  “Uh-huh.” He brushed two fingers across her cheek. “Don’t lie to me, kitten. And a word to the wise? Don’t ever play poker with me. Especially strip poker. I’ll have you naked before we finish one hand.”

  That made her laugh. “Pretty sure that’s the truth.”

  “C’mon, babe. Talk to me.”

  She gave in to temptation and thunked her forehead against his chest. His arms came around her waist. “Yours isn’t the only dysfunctional family in the world.” She straightened and tried to smile, but figured it was more of a grimace, judging by Chase’s expression. “Don’t ever give my mother money. No matter what she says or does.”

  “Ah.”

  “Yeah, ah. I’m serious, Chase. She’ll whine and wheedle and pull all sorts of crap to get it from you. And warn Tucker, too. Okay?”

  “Sure, babe. We’ll watch out for her.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For having a greedy mother. For letting your father get to me.”

  “Shh.” He pulled her back to his chest and held her while he brushed his cheek over the top of her head. “You were pretty darn impressive. Not many people stand up him. Thank you for coming to my defense.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, let’s get back so we can make them all go away. We’re supposed to be on our honeymoon.”

  Eight

  Chase had hoped their guests would leave while he was in the bedroom with Savannah. Her words were still ricocheting through his brain. Her mother sounded like a piece of work, and he made a mental note to ask Kade about the woman. Savvie’s reaction to the phone call left him feeling protective—and concerned. For a moment, he considered throwing money at the problem, then stopped cold. That’s what his father would do, was trying to do with Savannah. No, he would follow Savannah’s request. No money to her mother. Not without his wife’s permission.