Their Virgin Hostage (Masters of Ménage #5)(3)

Fifty million dollars bought a lot of clothes and coats for inner-city and rural kids. People were counting on her, and all this wanting "more" and pining for love was hopelessly selfish.

"It's a sweet thought," Becks said. "But working at a nonprofit wouldn't pay enough. This is the only way. I'd help if I could, but since I'm already married, walking down the aisle with a really rich, handsome guy falls to you. Poor Kins." She winked. "Brian's business does okay, and you know I'll kick in what I can, but … times are tough all around. You understand, don't you?"

Becks had a point. Kinley just didn't like it. She sighed and forced herself to face reality. "Sure."

"Good. For a minute there, I thought you were going to be unreasonable." Becks sipped her champagne. "Are you waiting on a call?"

She glanced down at her phone again, just like she did every couple of minutes. "No. It's just habit."

Becks's eyebrow rose. "Really? Who's Michael?"

Someone I've been wishing I could talk to all morning.

"He's a business contact." Becks didn't have to say anything. Kinley felt herself withering under her sister's judgmental stare. "I'm telling the truth. I've never even met the man. How do you know his name?"

"Because I saw it on your phone earlier. He's sent you a lot of texts. And he's either called you or you've called him at least once a day for the last week. This sounds like more than business. How do you think it would make Greg feel to know his fiancée is consorting with another man?"

"You spied on me?"

"I'm your sister. When, in all of the years you've known me, have I ever respected things like privacy? It's a sister's right to snoop." She grinned. "So are you fucking him?"

"No! Like I said, I've never actually met him. He's starting a charity on the West Coast. He contacted me for some advice, and we started talking. He's a nice guy. That's it."

No way was she going to admit that she thought about Mike from California way too much. And yes, she'd been looking down at her phone, hoping he would call. Hearing his voice had become something she looked forward to everyday because it made her smile. God, she was pathetic.

Becks shook her head. "Don't screw up the chance to be rich again for some guy you've never met. You know how much Daddy is depending on you."

And that was why she still stood here instead of giving into the impulse to fly out to California and meet Mike. Everyone was counting on her. She couldn't abandon the future she had planned for a man she'd only known a week. Mike seemed wonderfully down-to-earth, and Kinley enjoyed talking to him-but that had to be it. Somehow, she had to stop hearing his gravelly, rough-and-tumble voice in her dreams. Heck, she didn't even know what the man looked like, but she got a little giddy every time he called. Mike always put her at ease. With him, she felt interesting-and oddly cared for. Their relationship didn't mean anything and it was fleeting. Once his charity was up and running, she would have no more reason to talk to him.

She wasn't looking forward to that day.

"I know. I'm not screwing anything up."

"Well, that's good to hear. Keep it that way."

A knock sounded on the door adjoining her suite with the one next door.

Becks ignored it. "I'm going to call the caterers and make sure the cake is ready. Is that all your luggage? It needs to be ready since you're not coming back here after the ceremony."



       
         
       
        

"Yes. I've got it." Kinley made her way across the suite in her heavy wedding gown and opened the adjoining door.

Her best friend Annabelle, who had stayed next door last night, walked in-or tried. She was wearing the sheath Becks had selected, too. While the gray looked lovely against her café au lait skin, unfortunately Annabelle possessed curves like Kinley's. The dress didn't camouflage a thing.

"Hi. How are you holding up?" Her friend's pretty round face, framed by dark curls, softened with an encouraging smile.

"Hey. I'm..." Having really cold feet and wishing my sister would shut the hell up. "Fine." Kinley forced herself to grin back.

No sense in dragging Belle into her misery. Besides, her friend would only pounce on it.

Kinley glanced back at the Louis Vuitton vintage luggage that had been a gift from her fiancé. It was beautiful, and she'd gasped and teared up a little when he'd first given her the two trunks, two roller bags, and a brand new oversized shoulder bag that had a name, the Metis. She'd liked the jeans and blouses he'd sent along with them, although it wasn't what she normally wore. Someone with an ass her size didn't need to draw attention to it with a bunch of bling all over the back pockets. But her trunks and cases were all packed up and lined in a row. The Metis had a little stowaway in it, too.