Summer Vows

A Hideaway Wedding Wager

Twins Ana and Jason, along with their cousin Nicholas, are successful thirtysomethings who are single—and loving it. They have no idea that their relatives are betting on which one of them will get married first. But by the family’s New Year’s Eve reunion, will all three have learned what it means to be really lucky—in love?

Can she trust him with her life…and her heart?

As CEO of Serenity Records, Ana Cole never backs down. Now the hot new recording artist she’s signed has made her the target of death threats, forcing her to go into hiding. And protecting her is U.S. marshal Jacob Jones.

Jacob has better things to do on his vacation than play bodyguard. Until he gets a glimpse of the body he’ll be guarding… Spending days and nights together in close quarters stokes their mutual attraction into an inferno of desire. But if Jacob can outwit a would-be assassin, will their love outlast his assignment?

Summer Vows

Rochelle Alers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Hideaway Wedding Series

Good-natured boasting raises its multimillion-dollar head at the Cole family compound during a New Year’s Eve celebration. Family patriarch Martin Cole proposes each man in attendance place a one-million-dollar wager to the winner’s alma mater as an endowment in their name. The terms: predicting who among Nicholas, Jason or Ana will marry before the next New Year’s Eve.

Twins Jason and Ana Cole have given no indication they are even remotely thinking of tying the knot. Both claim they are too busy signing new talent to their record label. Former naval officer Nicholas Cole-Thomas has also been dragging his feet when it comes to the opposite sex. However, within the next six months Ana, Nicholas and Jason will encounter a very special person who will not only change them, but change their lives forever.

In Summer Vows, when CEO of Serenity Records Ana Cole signs a recording phenom to her label, she ignites a rivalry that targets her for death. Her safety and well-being are then entrusted to family friend, U.S. Marshal Jacob Jones, and Ana is forced to step away from the spotlight and her pampered lifestyle. She unwillingly follows Jacob to his vacation home in the Florida Keys until those responsible for the hit on her life are apprehended. Once Ana gets past Jacob’s rigid rules, she finds herself surrendering to the glorious sunsets and the man willing to risk everything, including his heart, to keep her safe and make her his own.

Nicholas Cole-Thomas’s entry into the world of horse breeding has caused quite a stir in Virginia’s horse country. Not only is he quite the eligible bachelor, but there is also a lot of gossip about his prized Arabian breeding stock. In Eternal Vows, Nicholas meets Peyton Blackstone, the neighboring farm’s veterinarian intern. He is instantly drawn to her intelligence, but recognizes the vulnerability she attempts to mask with indifference. Nicholas offers Peyton a position to work on his farm, and when they step in as best man and maid of honor at his sister’s spur-of-the-moment wedding he tries to imagine how different his life would be with a wife of his own. Just when he opens his heart to love again, someone from Peyton’s past resurfaces to shatter their newfound happiness, and now Nicholas must decide whether their love is worth fighting for.

Record executive Jason Cole will admit to anyone that he has a jealous mistress: music. As the artistic director for Serenity Records Jason is laidback, easygoing and a musical genius. His brief tenure running the company is over and he’s heading to his recording studio in a small remote Oregon mountain town to indulge in his obsession. But all that changes in Secret Vows, when Jason hears restaurant waitress Greer Evans singing backup with a local band. As they become more than friends, he is unaware of the secret she jealously guards with her life. And when he finds himself falling in love with Greer, Jason is stunned to find she is the only one who stands between him and certain death, at the same time realizing love is the most desperate risk of all.

Don’t forget to read, love and live romance.

Rochelle Alers

Happy the husband of a good wife, twice-lengthened are his days; a worthy wife brings joy to her husband, peaceful and full is his life.

—Sirach 26:1, 2

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Prologue

Martin Diaz Cole extended the lacquer and walnut burl finish humidor to his youngest brother, waiting for David to select a cigar. He repeated the gesture with his brother Joshua, and then his nephew Timothy before he selected his. It was hours from dawn and yet the other three men seemed reluctant to retire to the suites assigned them or to their respective homes.

It was a ritual that had been repeated for more years than Martin could remember. The entire Cole extended family came to West Palm Beach, Florida, on Christmas Eve for a reunion that usually culminated with a wedding before the end of the year. But unfortunately there had not been a wedding in several years—not since his nephew Diego married Vivienne Neal. His niece Celia didn’t figure into the equation because she’d married her FBI special agent husband in Virginia and hadn’t been able to repeat her vows for the entire family because a winter storm had blanketed North Carolina’s Great Smoky Mountains with nearly two feet of snow. She’d also been in the second trimester of her pregnancy and had curtailed traveling until after the birth of her daughter.

Using a cutter, Martin snipped the end of the cigar, moistened, lit it and pulled in a mouthful of sweet, fragrant tobacco. It wasn’t the quality of the finest Cuban cigar, but it came close.

David Cole blew out a perfect smoke ring. “Are you certain these aren’t contraband, Martin?”

The first time Martin had smoked a Cuban cigar was when he’d visited his late mother’s country of birth after graduating college, and he’d found himself enthralled with them. Over the years he’d smoked cigars from around the world, but none compared to a Cuban. “Bite your tongue, little brother. We both wish.”

Squinting through a cloud of smoke, David Cole’s jet-black eyes narrowed. “When am I going to stop being your little brother, Martin? I’m old as dirt, almost completely gray, and I’m a grandfather.”

“And you still have two kids who should either become a priest or nun, because they’re never going to get married,” Joshua Kirkland teased.

David glared at his half brother, hoping to intimidate him, but knew there were few things or people who could intimidate or frighten the retired career army officer. “Don’t act so smug, Josh. Serena and I had four children to your two, so there’s no comparison.”

A rare smile tilted the corners of Joshua’s firm mouth. “My two kids have given me six grandchildren, and still counting, hermano. How many do you have?”

David took another puff of his cigar. Even after so many years the teasing had continued. As the youngest of five, he’d been the last to marry and father children. His wife had given him four children, the last two twins, and the taunts about his children being marriage-phobic subsided when his older son and daughter married. It was only his twins who appeared reluctant to settle down. He knew both were too involved in growing the record company he’d established years ago.

“Don’t look so smug, Josh. I’m willing to bet when Jason and Ana marry they’ll both have a whole bunch of children between them.”

Timothy Cole-Thomas leaned forward, staring at his uncle. “Is there something you’re not telling us, David?”

Dimples creased David’s lean face when he smiled for the first time. He knew his twins better than anyone—and that included their mother. Both were comfortable divulging their closely guarded secrets about the business and their personal lives with him. Ana, as CEO of Serenity Records, had just signed a hot new recording artist that was rumored to become a crossover phenomenon. His daughter had confided to him that she now felt secure enough to shift her focus from business to her personal life. She’d recently closed on a condo and bought a new car—two things on her “to-do” list she’d neglected for years. For years she’d rented a studio apartment, while contracting with a car service to drive her around.

“Not really.”

Martin ran a hand over his cropped silver hair. “I think David should put his money where his mouth is.”

“Hear, hear!” chorused Joshua and Timothy.

Grinning, David shook his head. “You guys have got to be kidding.”

“Do we look like we’re kidding?” asked Joshua. “I agree with Martin. You should put up or shut up.”

David squinted through a cloud of gray smoke as he met the gazes of his brothers and nephew. “Well, gentlemen, I’m willing to wager a million dollars that my son or daughter will marry before Nicholas. What’s the matter? Is the wager a little too steep?” he asked when a groan and soft whistles echoed in the library.

“I don’t mind donating the million if it’s going to a worthy cause,” Timothy said.

Joshua cleared his throat. “Who are we betting on?”

“It has to be Jason and Ana,” Martin remarked.

“Don’t forget Nicholas and Joe, Jr.,” David reminded him.

Timothy Cole-Thomas crossed a leg over the opposite knee. “It can’t be Joe, because his father’s not here for the wager.

Martin nodded. “Timothy’s right. It will just be the four of us. I’m willing to put up a million, but, David, you’re going to have to ante up two mil because you have two kids to Timothy’s one.”

The seconds ticked as the three men stared at David. “No problem,” he said after a pregnant pause. “I’ll wager two million. Whoever wins will establish an endowment in his name at his alma mater. If none marry, then we’ll set up a foundation in the family name: ColeDiz.”

“What are the rules, Martin?” Joshua asked.

David frowned. “Why are you asking him? It’s my kids you guys are betting on.”

“Mine, too,” Timothy reminded him. “It has to be either Martin or Joshua to determine the rules if this wager is going to be impartial.”

“Timothy’s right,” Joshua concurred. “Let Martin establish the contest rules.”

David’s frown faded. “Okay.”

Martin stood up and walked over to an antique desk and picked up a pad, then handed a sheet of paper to each of the assembled. “Write down the names in the order in which you believe Nicholas, Jason and Ana will marry. Also indicate the name of your alma mater.

Joshua Kirkland jotted down his wager. “David, if you’re a little short on funds, I’ll spot you a million,” he teased.

“Yeah, right,” David drawled. As Samuel Cole’s son, purported to be the first black U.S. billionaire, money had never been a problem for anyone claiming Cole blood.

Martin completed his slip. “We’ll put the slips in an envelope, seal it and everyone can put their initial across the flap. Next year this time we’ll open them to find out the winner.” Pushing off his chair, he stood up and stubbed out his cigar and placed the envelope in a wall safe behind a framed print of James Baldwin. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m exhausted. Happy New Year,” he said, with a mock salute. “I’ll see everyone at brunch.”

One by one the men walked out of the library. David was the last one to leave. He wasn’t as concerned with his children marrying because he and Serena had raised them to be free spirits. His eldest son and daughter had married and had given him grandchildren. That was enough for him.

Unlike his brothers, Martin and Joshua, David was not competitive. Never was and never would be. Martin had always been the consummate businessman and Joshua the military career officer. He’d had a brief stint as CEO of ColeDiz International, Ltd., but for him it had always been music. First it had been his band Night Mood and then his independent recording company Serenity Records. The label’s focus had always been discovering new talent and it had continued until he retired and turned the day-to-day operation over to Jason and Ana.

The odds were in his favor, because he had two children with which to wager. And he predicted Ana would be the first to marry because he’d overheard her talking to her mother about her biological clock. At thirty-three she only had two more years before she would fall into the high-risk category. However, David wasn’t as certain when it came to his son or nephew.

Nicholas owned and operated a horse farm in Virginia and the last he’d heard was that the former naval officer wasn’t even remotely close to becoming involved with a woman. It was the same with Jason. His son hadn’t been a relationship in years, and seemed quite content living the life of a bachelor.

Snuffing out his cigar, David pushed to his feet and left the library. He usually didn’t make resolutions for the New Year, but this was one time he wanted to lord it over his brothers and nephew that there was nothing wrong with his unmarried twins. And if he did win the wager, then he would make certain to never let them forget it.

Chapter 1

Los Angeles, California

Camille Nelson felt a shiver of fear snake its way up her spine when a shadow fell across her desk. She was well aware of the company rule for not eating, reading anything not related to Slow Wyne Records, and other infractions like styling hair, repairing makeup or gum chewing while at her desk. Personal telephone calls were relegated to lunch hours, and only when not seated at the desk. She’d heard that an accounting clerk had been placed on probation for talking to her mother when she’d called to check on her sick preschooler during a staff meeting.

Her head popped up and she forced a smile when she saw her boss glaring down at her. “Good morning, Mr. Irvine.”

A frown marred the forehead of the CEO of Slow Wyne Records when he saw the magazine spread out on his executive assistant’s desk. Earlier that morning he’d read and reread every word of the Rolling Stone magazine article on Justin Glover and he had to admit the reporter had hit the mark when he declared the young singing sensation was the second coming of the late King of Pop Michael Jackson.

“Put that away and come with me,” he barked at Camille. “And bring your tools.” Basil Irvine strode toward the carved double doors leading to his office, expecting her to follow him like an obedient child.

Camille gathered her steno pad and three pencils. Although her boss was only forty-three, he still hadn’t come into the twenty-first century where executive assistants no longer took dictation, but transcribed their boss’s notes from tape recorders. She didn’t question her boss, because she needed the job. After a contentious and costly divorce Camille couldn’t afford to do anything wherein she would lose her position at Slow Wyne Records. Even sleeping with Basil Irvine wasn’t a guarantee that he wouldn’t eventually give her a pink slip. She wasn’t the first woman at the company to sleep with Basil, and she knew she wouldn’t be the last.

She sat at the round table in an alcove of an office that was larger than her studio apartment, while Basil folded his stocky body down into a leather executive chair. Sunlight poured into the wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, reflecting off his shaved gold-brown freckled pate.

“I want you to send a letter to Ana Cole, CEO of Serenity Records. It’s in Boca Raton, Florida.” He waited for Camille to jot down her shorthand symbols. “Dear Ms. Cole. Everyone at Slow Wyne would like to congratulate Serenity Records for the successful launch of Justin Glover’s first album. Mr. Glover’s musical talent and success impacts the entire industry, and I’m certain it will usher in a new era with a fusion of musical genres.” He paused, his gray eyes narrowing. “Use my usual closing.” Unlocking a drawer, Basil handed her a flash drive when she approached his desk. “And Camille,” he added when she turned to leave, “don’t forget office rules apply to you, too.”

Smiling, she nodded. “Yes, Mr. Irvine. It won’t happen again.”

Leaning back in his chair, Basil glared at her. “I know it won’t—that is if you want to continue to work here.”

Camille nodded as she walked out of the opulent office, softly closing the door behind her. What her boss didn’t know was that she would’ve handed in her resignation a week after he’d hired her if she didn’t need the money. Working for and sleeping with a record executive was a lot better than swinging around a pole in a gentlemen’s club, where she’d had to put up with men pawing her just because they’d slipped her a few dollars. And when she’d finally made it to the champagne room where she had to give lap dances, she found herself more times than not holding her breath for fear she’d lose the contents of her stomach from their alcohol-soured breaths. Basil had become her temporary savior and her loyalty to him was limitless.

She didn’t know about the other women who’d slept with Basil Irvine, but he’d disclosed things to her that she could use to bring down the man who ran his company like a maximum-security prison. He’d become the warden and his employees were the inmates.

She also knew his letter to Serenity Records was a ruse for a trap he had yet to spring. Basil’s ego was as large as the Pacific Ocean and the one thing he refused to accept was failure. He’d failed to sign Justin to Slow Wyne, and had sworn he would make Serenity Records pay for what he deemed an act of betrayal. Basil had been the first to hear Justin’s demo record, but after Slow Wyne offered the young twenty-year-old a deal that had him indebted to the company for the first two years of his contract, Justin’s agent went to Serenity. Basil knew he needed to change the terms of the contract or he would lose Justin. Then it had become a bidding war with Serenity as the winner even though their last bid was lower than Slow Wyne’s. Basil had sworn he would make the singer and Ana Cole pay for their deception.

Camille could care less about an East Coast–West Coast hip-hop rivalry reminiscent of the 1990s hostility between Death Row and Bad Boys Records. She was being paid a salary that exceeded her qualifications when she’d first come to work for the company. However, she’d made good use of the steady paycheck. She rented a small apartment in an up-and-coming neighborhood and had enrolled in a secretarial school where she’d taken the courses needed to become an efficient executive assistant.

She took care of Basil’s needs in and out of the boardroom. In the throes of passion he’d admitted she was the best “lay” he’d ever had. Camille didn’t mind the epithet, because she’d been called worse. She’d planned to use everything in her feminine arsenal to get whatever she needed from Basil before his reign of terror came to an abrupt end. And she knew it would end. She’d started hustling at an early age, and now at twenty-six she knew it was just a matter of time before her face and body would fail to attract men who were willing to trade money for sex.

Sitting at the desk outside her boss’s office, she inserted the flash drive into a port and began transcribing the letter. After saving what she’d typed and printing it out, Camille returned the drive to a locked drawer in her desk. At the end of the workday she returned the flash drive to Basil, who locked it in his desk. There were documents on the drive that could incriminate the executives of Slow Wyne and could send them to jail for either life or for very lengthy sentences. She could care less about the inner workings of the record company. She was just an employee following orders.

Camille read and reread what she’d typed, tapped slightly on Basil’s door and walked into his office when he told her to enter. She left the letter and envelope in his inbox and turned to leave.

“I’ll see you later tonight.” It wasn’t a request, but a command.

She nodded, smiling. It was her birthday and Camille had hinted to Basil there was a bracelet in a Beverly Hills jewelry store she wanted. If he didn’t get her the bracelet, then she was certain he would give her something comparable.

Boca Raton, Florida

Ana Cole sat across the table for two in her favorite Boca Raton restaurant, smiling at her cousin. She usually interacted with Tyler Cole twice a year—at Thanksgiving and the week between Christmas Eve and New Year’s Day, but that was never enough for her. Of all of her many male cousins, Tyler was her favorite. He was like an older brother and father-figure rolled into one. And it wasn’t that she wasn’t able to talk to her father, but Tyler was usually more objective than David Cole—especially when it came to her relationships.

The first time she’d fallen in love and confessed to her father that her boyfriend had cheated on her, David Cole’s response was that he would hunt him down and break his legs. Then it was her brother Gabriel who’d insinuated himself into her love life, monitoring and intimidating the men whose lifestyles were diametrically opposed to the way they were raised. Years later, after her first and only serious relationship ended, Ana lied to her father for the first time in her life. The man with whom she believed was her soul mate had also cheated on her. This time she confided in Tyler, who told her to regard every man who showed an interest in her as a potential husband. If she couldn’t see herself spending the next fifty years with him, then she should not go beyond a third date. Ana had taken his advice and now at thirty-three she felt secure in her career and her personal life.

Her dimpled smile matched Tyler’s. “How’s the family?”

Picking up the napkin at his place setting, Tyler spread it over his lap. “They’re wonderful. The boys are growing like weeds and Astra is the indisputable boss of the house.”

Ana speared a forkful of the Cesar salad with grilled shrimp. “Don’t you want another daughter, Tyler?”

Tyler’s dark eyes met a pair in amber with gold glints. Ana reminded him of a delicate raven-haired doll. Her short hair was always coiffed, her olive-brown skin flawless and her delicate features, dimpled smile and petite figure had most men giving her a second glance.

“Are you certain you’re not clairvoyant?”

Ana’s fork paused in midair. “No. Am I missing something primo?”

“Dana’s pregnant, and this time it’s a girl.”

A tiny shriek slipped past her lips and Ana glanced around the crowded restaurant to see if anyone had heard her. It appeared as if the other diners were too engrossed in their food or their dining companions. “That’s incredible news! When is she due?”

“Mid-September.”

She did the mental calculation. Her cousin’s wife was five months pregnant, and this was her first time hearing about it. “Is Dana all right?” she asked.

Tyler expressive black eyebrows lifted a fraction. “She’s good. We decided not to say anything until all tests indicated the baby is normal.” He smiled. “I called my mom and dad earlier this morning to give them the good news.”

Leaning back in her chair, Ana stared at Tyler. Like so many men in her family, he had begun graying in his thirties. The brilliant ob-gyn was now in his late forties and was to become a father for the fourth time. He’d named his first son after his father and the second one after his paternal grandfather, while he and Dana adopted their daughter after the infant’s orphaned mother died in childbirth. Now Astra was about to become a big sister.

“I know you’re here for a conference, but do you think you’ll have time to go up to West Palm to see your folks?”

Tyler took a sip of sparkling water. “They’re driving down tonight. I’m scheduled to chair one panel and sit on one, both on the same day. I’m not flying back to Mississippi until Friday. I told Dana I was going to stay an extra day to reconnect with my sister, but when I called Arianna her housekeeper said she, Silah and their kids had just left for Paris.”

The Kadirs lived in Fort Lauderdale when their children were in school and in their fashion designer father’s native Morocco during the summer months. The Kadir children spoke English, Spanish and French. Tyler shook his head. “My sisters are gypsies,” he continued. “The only time I get to see Arianna is during Thanksgiving and the week of Christmas.”

Reaching across the table, Ana placed her hand on Tyler’s. “You’re turning into your father, complaining that he doesn’t see his children or grandchildren enough.”

“Wait until you have children, Ana, and then you’ll realize what it is to have your children spread out all over the world. My kids are still young, but I miss my sisters. Regina lives in Brazil, but she only comes to the States once or twice a year. Arianna divides her time between Florida and North Africa or Europe. At least your father has his children and grandchildren within a couple of hours of a car or plane ride.” He reversed their hands. “Enough talk about the family. What about you? How are you doing?”

A smile parted Ana’s lips. “Life is good for Serenity Records. Justin Glover—aka O’Quan Gee’s debut album is number one on the Billboard chart.”

Tyler angled his head and laughed, attractive lines fanning out around his large eyes. Anyone looking at him and Ana would’ve taken them for brother and sister. The first cousins had inherited their paternal grandmother’s olive coloring, delicate features and dimpled smile.

“I wasn’t talking about rappers and hip-hop artists, Ana. I’m talking about you. Are you seeing anyone?”

She averted her gaze. “Not right now.” Her eyes met and fused with Tyler’s. “To tell you the truth it has been a while since I’ve been involved with a man. I have male friends I can call if I don’t want to go a social function by myself, but most times I attend the award ceremonies with Jason.”

“You can’t marry your brother, Ana.”

She laughed quietly. “I know that, Tyler, but he’s the only man, other than those in my family, that I can trust.” Without warning, Ana sobered. “Can you answer one question for me?”

“What’s that?”

“Why do men cheat?”

The seconds ticked as Tyler stared at something over Ana’s shoulder. “I can’t answer that because I’ve never cheated on Dana.”

“How about your girlfriends before you married her?”

His gaze swung back to her. “I’d never cheated on them, either. Even if I’d wanted to I could never forget what Abuela went through with grandpa when she’d discovered he had fathered an illegitimate child.”

“Uncle Josh is as much a part of our family as your dad or mine,” Ana argued softly.

“I’m not saying he isn’t, Ana. It shouldn’t have taken more than thirty years for everyone to accept him as a Cole even though his last name was Kirkland.”

She exhaled an audible sigh. “Our grandfather cheated on our grandmother, and I can’t seem to find a man who doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with sleeping with more than one woman at the same time. It’s the same with celebrities. They date one woman and father a child, then move on to the next without a pang of conscience that they’ve become a serial baby daddy.”

“Therein is your problem. You have to stop dating guys in the business.”

“I would if I happened to meet one who’s not in the business. But, day in and day out it’s songwriters, musicians, recording artists and producers. I’m ready to try one of those dating sites, but with my luck I’ll end up with a psycho.”

“Don’t do that, Ana. I can always hook you up with one of my colleagues.”

She shook her head. “And have him think I’m desperate. I don’t have a problem attracting men, Tyler. It’s just that I attract the wrong ones. Would you believe I was hit on by a twenty-year-old?”

Tyler swallowed a mouthful of savory crab cake. “Who’s that?”

“Justin Glover aka O’Quan Gee aka OG.”

“What’s up with the stage names? Why doesn’t he just go by Justin Glover?”

“He’s a crossover artist. He’ll record pop and R&B under Justin and rap and hip-hop as O’Quan Gee.”

Tyler chuckled under his breath. “How does it feel to be a cougar?”

Ana rolled her eyes. “I don’t think so, Tyler. There is nothing a twenty-year-old can do for me. I have enough trouble with immature thirtysomething baby boys. And for all his musical genius Justin may prove to be a problem.”

“Why’s that?”

“He’s good and he knows it. But I’ll let Jason handle the musical end of his career. I had enough issues trying to convince him to sign with Serenity instead of Slow Wyne. It ended in a bidding war where we signed him for less than what Slow Wyne would’ve offered, but our perks are more lucrative. We also included a morality clause at the insistence of our publicist: no drugs, DUIs or DWIs and he cannot become involved in any paternity suits for the term of his contract.”