Marrying Mr. English:The English Brothers #7(8)

By: Katy Regnery



“Vegas?”

“There’s nowhere else we could get married so quickly.”

Her lips wobbled, but she kept them from turning up.

“Vegas,” she murmured.

He nodded. “Tonight. So we could be married tomorrow. That would at least give us the weekend to get to know each other.”

She tilted her head to the side and finally let her lips spread into a smile. “Are you serious?”

“Are you?”

“You think we can pull it off?”

No. “I have no clue.” He shrugged, grinning at her like a stupid fool. “Want to give it a try?”

“I . . .” Her shoulders trembled, and she giggled, still staring up at him. “You’re a decade older than I am.”

“I don’t care if you don’t.”

“You’re rich and classy, and I’m . . . a waitress.”

“I think you’re more than that.”

“I’ve never been outside of Colorado.”

“Maybe it’s time to broaden your horizons.”

“You’re really serious,” she breathed.

“Think of it as an adventure.” He stared into her eyes, prying one of the hands on her lap into his and weaving their fingers together. “Eleanora Watters, will you marry me for a little while?”

She beamed at him, nodding slowly at first and then faster and faster, her slim fingers gripping his tightly as her cheeks turned pink and her eyes sparkled like a million white lights at Christmastime. “Why not?”





Chapter 3




As the private plane left the tiny Vail airport, headed for Las Vegas, Eleanora trembled with fear and misgivings. Fear because she’d never been on an airplane before; misgivings because she was headed to Las Vegas to marry a complete and total stranger.

Sitting beside Eve Marie, she closed her eyes and tried to take a few deep, calming breaths, but her cousin wouldn’t shut up.

“I mean, look at this plane! It’s, like, the most beautiful place I’ve ever been in my whole life, and that lady gave us Champagne, Ellie. Champagne! The real stuff. Can you believe it?” She lowered her voice a little. “Are you crazy? Or drunk? Please tell me you’re drunk. Why are you marrying him? It’s not like you’re pregnant! Are you? No, that’s impossible. Oh my God, these seats. They’re real leather, Ellie. Real leather. Do you know how much this plane probably costs? I don’t. Are you going to sleep with him? What if he’s bad in bed? Then you’re stuck with him for life. Maybe you should have tested the goods first. Sweet Jesus, are those Godivas?”

The stewardess held out a gold box filled with delicate-looking chocolates, and Evie took four. Eleanora’s stomach, which wouldn’t stop flipping over, forced her to decline.

She’d already told Evie three times—once when she and Tom interrupted Evie and Van in Van’s hotel room, again while they packed their suitcases in the small shared bedroom of their apartment, and again right before liftoff—that while she was marrying Tom, she wasn’t really marrying him. It was a temporary marriage; it was just an agreement, an agreement of convenience, the outcome of which would hopefully change Eleanora’s life for the better.

Was she going to sleep with him? No.

She straightened her neck and looked over the seat in front of her, catching a quick glimpse of Tom, who sat across from Van, staring out the window. His blond hair tumbled over his forehead, and he rubbed his chin with his index finger as Van flirted shamelessly with the stewardess.

Absolutely not.

Although, in fairness, she was positive he wouldn’t be bad in bed.

And with that thought, hidden muscles deep inside her body flexed and held, telling her they wouldn’t mind finding out.

He was handsome. Sinfully handsome. But Eleanora had met many handsome men since she and Evie moved to Vail. What set Tom English apart was the way he’d looked at her when he said, “We’d have to go to Vegas”—like he was willing to take a chance on her, like she was somehow worth the chance he was taking.

Eleanora’s mother had run out on them when she was five, and her father, who was a functioning alcoholic, had done his best with four kids, but there was very little time left for little Eleanora, who always had her nose in a book anyway. She’d only heard from him twice since leaving home three years ago with Eve Marie, who’d actually been their reason for leaving: her new stepfather was paying the sixteen-year-old way too much unwanted attention, and Eve Marie had confessed her fears to Eleanora. They’d hitchhiked to Vail, lied about Eve Marie’s age, found jobs as waitresses at Auntie Rose’s and used Eleanora’s meager savings for a shabby one-bedroom apartment.

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