Fake Marriage (Contemporary Romance Box Set)

All of a sudden, cool air hit my pussy. I opened my eyes to see Mo scrambling away.

He jumped up. “Fuck, shit. What did I just do?”

“It’s okay. I wanted you to.”

He turned away, running his fingers through his brown hair. “I’m a fucking perv.”

“No.” I stood, pulling my skirt down as I kicked my panties the rest of the way off. If I was lucky, maybe I’d get a chance to give him an orgasm too. “It’s natural.”

“You’re Frank’s daughter, for Christ’s sake. What is wrong with me?”

“Nothing, Mo. Really.” I moved in front of him. I tried to press my hands on his chest, but he jumped back.

“I shouldn’t have done that, Brooke. Jesus. Are you okay?”

“Look at me, Mo.” I waited until his eyes were looking at me. “I wanted that. I want more than that with you. Let me—” I reached out to cup his dick.

He stepped back. “This was a mistake.” His eyes looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, Brooke. It’s just…wrong.” With a shake of his head, he hurried from the room. A few minutes later, I heard the door shut.

I sighed and sat down on the couch, picking up my wine. Was I disappointed? A little bit. At the same time, I was happy. Now I knew for sure that Mo found me attractive. He’d wanted to fuck me. Yes, his conscience stopped him, but I felt certain that someday, I’d show him that I was a woman who wanted to love him as he deserved to be loved. Hadn’t my father said it? That Mo deserved a good woman like me?

1

Maurice

I didn’t plan to grow up to become a politician. I grew up on a cattle ranch, and while I did go to college, my goal in life had been to do what my father, grandfather, and great grandfather had do

ne, and that was to be a cattle rancher. But I’d seen the challenges Salvation was having as fewer kids stayed to take over family farms or mom-and-pop businesses. We needed jobs. Our schools needed to compete better so that our kids had more opportunities to get into college or get a decent job out of high school.

Bringing new jobs hadn’t worked out. I’d supported Simon Stark’s effort to build a prison, but the farmers, along with my deputy mayor, Sinclair Jones, had other ideas. So, the promise of new jobs was something I still had yet to fulfill.

Improved schools required money, which Salvation didn’t have an abundance of. Every cent was accounted for, so it was no easy task to tell Holly St. James, a local teacher, along with the school librarian—who had to manage all three schools, elementary, middle, and high school because there wasn’t enough funding for each school to have their own—and the president of the Parent-Teacher Organization, Lisa Cummings—who was single, and if I wasn’t mistaken, had set her sights on me as she smiled and batted her eyes—no when they asked for funds for more library books.

“Studies show that reading—”

I held my hand up to stop Holly. “I don’t need to be sold on the merits of books and libraries, ladies. What the city doesn’t have is money.” I hated saying no, especially to Holly, who spent endless hours working on projects to bring more opportunities to the children of Salvation. The latest had been re-establishing the 4-H program. I knew Sinclair and our office admin, Trina Lados, had helped. Perhaps they could help with this, too.

“Mr. Mayor,” Lisa started, leaning forward, showing me her ample cleavage in her tight-knit top. “Surely, there’s some pot somewhere that doesn’t need money as much as our children need books.”

“Should I take it from the fire department?” I quipped. “Maybe the police? Is public safety less important?”

Her grin faltered some.

“I hate to be the bad guy here, but a city budget isn’t that much different from a family budget. You have to fund the necessities, and if there’s nothing left over, then some of the less important—”

“Books aren’t less important,” the librarian said with umbrage.

“The fire department might disagree. The guy whose house burns down because we don’t have a fully-funded fire department might disagree, too.”

“Don’t we have volunteer firefighters?” Lisa asked.

I turned to her. “We do. But the trucks and equipment aren’t free. And when you consider the risk firefighters take, it seems disingenuous to rely on volunteers donating their time to get trained and risking their lives to save yours. Surely you can get book donations or a grant or something.”

Holly didn’t like hearing what I was saying, but her nod told me she understood. “You’re right. Maybe we could have a fundraiser. The Harvest Festival is coming, and maybe we could do something there.”

“Deputy Mayor Jones might be able to help with this, too,” I said, still finding it strange to call Sinclair by her new last name, Jones. Although I was about ten years older than her, I’d known Sinclair and her family, since we all grew up here. When I started working with her as my deputy mayor, I found her to be intelligent, hardworking, and a fighter. She was pretty, too, and I found myself wanting to ask her out but never did because I was her boss. One thing I understood about workplaces—don’t fuck the staff.

When Wyatt Jones returned to town, and the two of them conspired to stop Simon Stark’s buying farmland to build a prison, I’d thought their marriage was fake, to give her a reason to side on the issue as well as garner support from the community. As it turned out, Wyatt was her daughter’s father, and in the end, they appeared to be living in wedded bliss.