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Carter Bravo's Christmas Bride
Christine Rimmer
Compatible? Check. Chemistry? Check. Love? Check…mate!When Carter Bravo decides it’s time to settle down this Christmas, the once-burned, no-strings-attached hunk chooses the one woman who isn’t looking to be swept off her feet. Not only does his business partner and best buddy, Paige Kettleman, say yes–the chemistry sizzling between them is further proof that she’s his ideal mate.Carter’s no-nonsense proposition isn’t exactly the romantic proposal Paige dreamed about under the mistletoe. After five years of building a business and sharing confidences, her dearest friend still has no idea how she really feels about him. If he did, he’d go running for the Colorado hills. Unless Paige can show Carter how to turn a test-run engagement into the real thing: a holiday wedding with all the trimmings–including love!
“No way.”
“Carter. Come on, think about it. Really think about it. What if it doesn’t work out? What if … one of us falls in love and the other doesn’t?” What if one of us is already in love? “What if it ends up destroying our friendship, our partnership, everything? Then what?”
He just wouldn’t listen. “That’s not going to happen.”
“You can’t be sure of that.”
“Yes, I can. Nobody’s falling in love. That’s the beauty of it. We know who we are with each other. We’re going to have a great life together, Paige, a happy life. That falling-in-love crap isn’t going to happen to us.”
But it’s already happened to me.
* * *
The Bravos of Justice Creek: Where bold hearts collide under Western skies
Carter Bravo’s
Christmas Bride
Christine Rimmer
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHRISTINE RIMMER came to her profession the long way around. She tried everything from acting to teaching to telephone sales. Now she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly. She insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Christine lives with her family in Oregon. Visit her at www.christinerimmer.com (http://www.christinerimmer.com).
For my dear friend Carol Sue Ell,
who loves books as much as I do
and is always ready with a kind word.
Thanks for the smiles, Carol Sue,
and for making every day just a little bit brighter.
Contents
Cover (#u976f28c4-7b4f-5e5e-83fd-8fd762dc1e94)
Introduction (#u175fc703-650c-59a1-96ca-aed0f91e2fd7)
Title Page (#u863e7161-9dd8-5bf3-a0f2-73bcd4934034)
About the Author (#u4d81940a-51b7-5420-8c0a-c380506b0f15)
Dedication (#u07602375-407e-51f6-8c1e-425c49ff12ef)
Chapter One (#u3267993e-81aa-5bae-af5b-ba4cd1a77e29)
Chapter Two (#u06ada2f1-a14e-5299-becd-8cb5d7e56c24)
Chapter Three (#ueaadab02-eb1c-5a78-a853-9bbb853e1998)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_819461c9-07cc-5e95-861a-aba8c57f7b63)
It all started three days before Thanksgiving with a silly magazine quiz.
Paige Kettleman and her best friend and business partner, Carter Bravo, sat in the plush Denver offices of Leery International Drilling. They were waiting to meet with president and CEO Deacon Leery, who had already commissioned five big-ticket custom-redesigned cars from their company, Bravo Custom Cars.
Carter was getting fidgety. He spent most of his working life in old jeans and T-shirts, with his head stuck under the hood of one of his soon-to-be beautiful custom creations. He’d never enjoyed taking meetings.
But Deacon was a major customer. And Deacon liked Carter to come to his gorgeous office and listen to him ramble on about classic cars for a while before getting around to the dream ride he wanted Carter to build for him next. As far as Deacon was concerned, Paige didn’t really even need to be there. But she ran the business end of Bravo Custom Cars. She always went along to visit Deacon for that special moment when they started talking money.
Carter had already taken off his sport coat and tossed it across the back of his chair. Now he sat forward, elbows on his spread knees. He braced his square jaw on his big fist and tapped his booted foot impatiently.
Paige watched him and tried not to grin.
He sent her a quick, challenging glance. “So what? I hate sitting around. That’s a crime?”
She stifled a chuckle. “Who said a word about crimes?”
He grunted. “Smug. You know you are. Sitting there all cool and calm in your preppy little suit, tap-tap-tapping on your tablet.”
She gave him a bland smile. “I’m sure it won’t be long now.”
He grumbled something. She wisely did not ask him what. And then he grabbed one of the glossy magazines from the low table in front of them. Hitching one boot across the other knee, he slumped back in his chair and began thumbing through it.
She returned her attention to her tablet and her email correspondence with Kelly Cobb, the Realtor they’d hired a few weeks before. Bravo Custom Cars was looking to expand. Electric cars were the future, and Carter wanted to start building custom electric cars along with the gas hogs most of his clients favored.
Carter and Paige had their eye on a new location. They’d made one offer and been turned down. The owner had rocks in his head. Nobody else in town wanted that property. The building and large fenced concrete yard had been sitting on an ugly stretch of Arrowhead Drive on the outskirts of their hometown for over a year with a big For Sale sign on the gate. Paige and Carter were waiting for the seller to get real and lower his asking price a little before they tried again.
Carter nudged her with his elbow. “You got a pen?” She took one from her black leather tote and handed it over. “Thanks. You listening?”
“Um.”
“Good. Because you’ll love this. ‘Is he really your best friend or are you secretly in love with him?’ It’s a quiz and you need to take it.”
She zipped off the email to the Realtor. “No, I don’t.”
“Yeah, you do. It’s all about us.”
Paige reached over and snagged the corner of the magazine so she could get a look at the front of it. “Girl Code? You’re reading Girl Code?”
“I’m broadening my horizons, trying to understand women better. Everyone says I need to.”
She stifled a snort and pointed at the other magazines on the low table. “There’s a Car and Driver right there.”
His broad shoulders lifted in a dismissive shrug. “I’ve read that one. First question. ‘Do you compare all your dates to him?’ You know you do. So that’s a yes.” He scratched at the page with the pen she’d foolishly given him.
“It’s obvious you don’t even need me here,” she wryly observed.
He actually had the nerve to smirk. “You’re right, I don’t. I know all the answers. Because, face it, I know you better than you know you—which proves I know a thing or two about women, after all.”
“So then shut up,” she muttered out of the corner of her mouth. “Take the damn thing silently if you just have to go there.” A text popped up from Mona, who ran their front office. Mona was closing up for the night. Paige sighed and replied Still @ Leery’s. C U 2morrow.
And Carter went right on to the next question. “‘Can you tell him anything without feeling at all uncomfortable?’ Oh, hell to the yes.” He scratched on the page again.
“That’s not fair. You have no idea the things I don’t tell you.” There weren’t a lot of them, to be strictly honest. But he didn’t need to know that right now.
“Oh, come on. You tell me everything, Paige. That’s how you are with me. Constant oversharing. A thought pops in your head and I’m the only one there? Comes right out your mouth.” She elbowed him. Hard. He snickered, leaned away from her so she couldn’t do it again and asked, “‘Do you care about his happiness more than you do the happiness of your other friends?’” Another snicker as he checked the answer. “‘Do you think about drunk-texting him every other weekend?’ I’m going with yes for that, too, because if you were drunk, you know it would be me you drunk-texted.”
Best to just ignore him, she decided. So she did—or at least she pretended to.
And he kept right on, asking the questions and answering them for her. There were twenty in all.
When he finally answered the last one, he announced, “You scored twenty out of twenty. Hate to break it to you, Paige. But you’re desperately in love with me.”
She considered taking off one of her high-heeled shoes and bopping him on the head with it. But if she hit him once, she would only want to hit him again.
He tossed the magazine back on the table. “I gotta ask.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Why does every woman I meet just have to fall in love with me?” he went on as though she hadn’t spoken. “I don’t get it.”
She scoffed, “You’re not the only one.”
“Wait a minute, hold on. We both know you get it. We just found out you’re hopelessly in love with me like all the rest of them, remember? So, what is it that you adore about me?”
“Not a thing.”
“I think we need to make a list.”
“Carter, stop.”
He was wearing that smile now. The one that drove all the women right out of their panties—except for her. As his best friend, Paige reminded herself, she was totally immune to that smile. And he was still talking. “Yes. Definitely. Let’s make a list.”
“Let’s not and say we did.”
He started ticking off his supposed lady-killing qualities. “Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m better looking than most. And I have a great personality. I’m a god in bed—not that you would know that. And I’m well off, but come on. Half the time, I’m covered in axle grease.” He gave her one of those looks, serious and teasing, both at the same time. “Paige.”
“What?”
“We both know I’m not really all that.”
“You think I’m going to argue with you and tell you you’re wonderful and not to run yourself down? Ha. Think again.”
He spread his arms wide and she had to jerk back in her chair to keep from getting smacked in the chest with a rock-hard forearm. “Why can’t someone explain it to me? What is this thing I have?”
Before Paige could manufacture a suitably quelling reply, the receptionist said pleasantly, “Mr. Leery will see you now.”
So they got up and entered the inner sanctum where another plum project was waiting for them.
An hour later, they shook hands with Deacon Leery and wished him a happy Thanksgiving. It had gone well. Carter was excited about acquiring and redesigning his next four-wheeled masterpiece. Paige felt pleased with the deal she’d struck. A satisfying transaction in every way.
Except for that damn quiz. For some reason, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Ridiculous. Why even worry about it? It was nothing but fluff. Silly, meaningless fluff.
“You’re quiet,” Carter said about midway through the hour-and-a-half drive back to their hometown of Justice Creek.
She made a sleepy noise, closed her eyes and leaned against the passenger-side window, hoping he’d assume she must be napping and leave her alone.
It worked. But Paige was not napping. Far from it. Her brain was packed to bursting with that absurd Girl Code quiz.
Let it go, she told herself. It’s no big deal. Forget about it.
But she couldn’t forget. It was stuck in her mind and it wouldn’t go away. It was like the avalanche that killed her parents, a snowball rolling downhill, quickly gaining speed and mass until it buried everyone and everything in its path.
They weren’t even her answers, she reminded herself. They were Carter’s.
But unfortunately, his answers were the ones that she would have given. And for a silly, meaningless magazine quiz, well, they were kind of good questions, she had to admit.
