The Millionaire Tempted Fate (A Novella) (Sweet and Savory Romances)
Read The Millionaire Tempted Fate (A Novella) (Sweet and Savory Romances) Online
Authors: Shirley Jump
THE
MILLIONAIRE
TEMPTED
FATE
A
S
WEET AND
S
AVORY
N
OVELLA
BY
S
HIRLEY
J
UMP
Copyright Information
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2013 by Shirley Jump
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
eISBN: 978-1-937776-53-4
Also by Shirley Jump
Check out the entire Sweet and Savory Romances series:
The Bride Wore Chocolate
The Devil Served Desire
The Angel Tasted Temptation
The Groom Wanted Seconds
The Beauty Charmed Santa
Other books by Shirley:
Really Something
Around the Bend
The Other Wife
Return of the Last McKenna
Simply the Best
To learn more about the Sweet and Savory Romances series visit
www.SweetandSavoryRomance.com
and
www.ShirleyJump.com
.
Table of Contents
Excerpt from The Bride Wore Chocolate
Excerpt from The Devil Served Desire
Excerpt from The Angel Tasted Temptation
1 box Devil’s Food cake mix
1 8 ounce container vanilla Greek yogurt
1 cup water
1 tub frosting, your choice of flavor
You need something quick and easy to get him to pay attention. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Spray a 9 by 13-inch pan with cooking spray. Mix cake mix, yogurt and water in a bowl, just until ingredients are incorporated. No going nuts and adding too much air, or taking too long, because you’re really in a time crunch here. Mr. Right is about to make the worst decision of his life.
Pour the batter into the pan, then bake according to the package directions. Cool, then frost. Serve it to him with a memorable moment that will have him thinking twice about choosing that perky Barbie doll who is all wrong for him.
C
HAPTER
O
NE
Ten days. That's all Angie Wilson had given herself to pull off a miracle.
Well, not a miracle, exactly. More of a diabolical scheme to win the heart of the man she had loved since third grade, when he’d given her his last Starburst. She'd been too in awe of the fact that Max Blackwell had realized she was alive to do anything more than sit across from him on the bus and clutch the wrapped orange square of candy in her palm. She'd tucked the softened chewy bite in her ballerina jewelry box, a place of honor given only to the most special mementoes.
It was still there, a hard, and now petrified reminder of the day she'd met Max, when he’d just handed her a candy for no real reason, and how that one encounter had changed everything.
"What about this one?" Max's deep voice jerked her attention back to the glistening interior of a Boston jewelry store and the reason she was here for this self-flagellation party.
Picking out a ring for the woman Max wanted to marry.
For weeks, Angie had told herself that Max's infatuation would blow over, that his ardor would cool, but if anything his feelings had grown for the woman he'd met by the dollar changing machine in the neighborhood Coin Wash Laundromat. Angie wanted to believe there was still plenty of time for Max to wake up, smell the coffee and realize his perfect woman was already in his life.
That stubborn, deluded thinking had brought her here. To a jewelry store, where Angie was being asked her opinion about a marquis cut versus a princess cut. A ring meant not for Angie, but for
her
.
Becky Perkins, who was altogether too blonde, too thin and too sweet-as-apple-pie for serious minded investor Max—a fact that had escaped him.
Across from them, a somber salesman in a dark blue suit waited with patient silence, his hands clasped behind his back, while he did his best to blend into the elegant store décor with its glistening counters and gold-flecked champagne colored carpeting. Warm lighting washed over the jewelry cases, adding to the luxurious dark velvet settings.
For the first time in his life, Max stood indecisive, hemming and hawing. Max’s strong, thick fingers dwarfed the delicate rings, as he touched one, then another, debating.
Max dwarfed almost everything in the world, as far as Angie was concerned. Six-foot-two, he had maintained his lean, strong quarterback build ever since college. His short dark hair made his blue eyes seem richer, almost like the sapphires propped beside the selection of diamonds. More than that, Max had presence, a way of carrying himself into a boardroom or at a banquet or even, heck, into Starbuck’s.
People
noticed
Max.
He didn’t dress like the millionaire he was, nor did he act like one. He pumped his own gas, trucked his laundry down to the Laundromat when his washer broke, and still went through the drive-thru at McDonald’s once in a while. He was the same person he’d always been. The same person who had helped her pass Algebra II and who had held her tight when her father died. The same person she’d known for more than two decades.
Except for this little detour into insanity with the engagement ring for Becky. Clearly, Max had had one too many Big Macs.
She knew Max had this timetable for his life, one he’d written back in junior year, already ambitious and focused at sixteen. Item #27—get married at thirty, followed by #28—start a family at thirty-two. He was five months from his thirtieth birthday, and that internal clock was tick-ticking. For a man who lived for setting and achieving goals, this one loomed big and close.
Angie couldn’t live her life that way. She made her choices by instinct, not logic. The mere thought of a ticking timeline terrified her. Maybe that was why she worked as a freelance graphic designer, instead of on the staff of an agency. She took the jobs she wanted to, took a week off for impromptu vacations when the mood hit her, and basically lived a flexible, adaptable life.
Lately, though, she’d been feeling this…itch for more. Maybe it was an allergic reaction to Max’s sudden interest in marriage. Maybe it was being around all these sparkling symbols of commitment.
Angie put her back to the counter. All that bling was blinding, as far as she was concerned, and if the man couldn’t pick a ring, maybe it was a sign he didn’t know his intended all that well. "Don't you think you're rushing into this?" she said. "You've only known her for three months."
Max shrugged. "When you know, you know. Isn't that what you always say?"
She
had
said that. In a long fumbling conversation where she'd tried to tell Max how she was feeling lately, how she’d finally realized that the feelings she had for him went beyond friendship, then the words got stuck in her throat and she’d ended up derailing into a discussion about ice cream. "I meant sundae toppings, not wives."
Max chuckled. "Well the same advice applies." He picked up an intricate princess cut ring offset by an S-shaped coil of stones that encircled the main stone in a sparkling hug. "You should find someone too, Ang. Settle down, have the quintessential two kids and a dog. Move to the suburbs."
"Fit me for a cage at the same time." She shuddered. "What happened to the guy who lives and breathes this city? The guy who once told me that Boston is as necessary to you as your heart?"
"Things change."
She glanced at him, waiting for the punch line, the "just kidding." The Max she'd known for more than twenty years, who lived his life inside rigidly straight lines, didn’t change. "You’re the man who has gone to the same barber since high school, who has bought the same model of Nike sneakers for ten years, and who follows the same schedule every week. Things change? Not for you."
She didn’t add that she couldn’t understand why he was so quick to marry a dental hygienist who spent her spare time on Pinterest following boards about craft projects. Yeah, Becky was organized and neat and scheduled, but so was a grocery list.
"What?" he said. "You're staring at me."
"Because you have been replaced by an alien. This is not the Max I know."
"You know getting married by thirty is part of my life plan. It’s time I settled down, and Becky is the right one for me to settle down with."
"You make it sound like you’re choosing which CD to invest in."
He chuckled. "Says the woman who has yet to commit to a brand of shampoo."
"Hey, my hair is complicated. Like me."
He turned the ring toward her. "What about this one?"
The gaudy oversized ring stared back at Angie with a disappointed glare. She had waited too long to act on her feelings. Thought too much, padiddled around, as her grandmother called it. And now she was staring at a ring that she hated, meant for a woman she wished would disappear. Becky was all wrong for Max. Why didn't he see that?
