Millionaire Mavericks. Jennifer Lewis

we should plan a honeymoon. To make it look more authentic.”

      She thought of the nonrefundable trip she had just booked. “I’m leaving for a seven-day trip to Greece the day after tomorrow. Would that be authentic enough for you?”

      He nodded. “That would be perfect.”

      “I’ll have my assistant book you a seat.”

      “And I’ll have mine make the wedding arrangements.”

      “All right.”

      “While we’re away, I’ll arrange to have your things moved into my townhouse.”

      She hadn’t given any thought to the fact that he would expect her to live with him. But of course he would. Married couples lived together. Although the idea of living under his roof made her feel vulnerable. Would he try to run her life, controlling her every move the way her father had? Would she be moving from one prison to another?

      And if so, what choice did she have?

      Mitch must have read her expression. “You’ll have your own room,” he assured her. “You’ll want for nothing.”

      Unfortunately, that wasn’t true. She wanted something he wasn’t capable of giving. She wanted to be loved. She wanted someone to respect and appreciate her for who she was deep down inside. And while he did seem to appreciate what she was doing for him, the love and respect part seemed impossible. Maybe she wasn’t worthy. Maybe that was the price she paid for wealth and security. Or maybe the sad truth was, she just wasn’t all that lovable.

      “You won’t regret this,” Mitch assured her, which she found terribly ironic, seeing as how she was beginning to regret it already.

      “Are you ready for this?” Lance asked Mitch the following evening. They sat across from one another at a linen-draped table in the elaborately decorated dining room of the Texas Cattleman’s Club. It was the most public place they could think of for the desired result. If all went as planned, word of what was about to transpire would burn up the town like flaming tumbleweed in the dry season.

      “I’m ready,” Mitch said.

      It was a little hard to believe that this time tomorrow he would be married and on his way to Greece. Twenty-nine was too damned young to be a husband, to be tied down. Not that he or Lexi were thinking of this as a real marriage. It was a business arrangement. One that would no doubt cost him dearly. Both emotionally and financially. That was evident from the astronomically priced wedding ring she’d chosen. Her expensive taste apparently knew no bounds.

      A grin kicked up one corner of Lance’s mouth. “I’ll go easy on you, little brother.”

      “Don’t bother. Whatever you can dish out, I can take.” God knows that there were many times he’d gotten a lot worse from their old man. “We have to make this look real, Lance.”

      “Don’t worry, I will,” he said, and just like that, the grin faded. Lance assumed a look of pure disgust, and said in a voice loud enough for the entire room to hear, “You son of a bitch.”

      A hush fell over the room and all heads turned in their direction. No turning back now, Mitch thought.

      He held up both hands in a defensive gesture and said in a pleading voice, “Let me explain.”

      Lance stood so fast his chair flipped backward onto the floor, narrowly missing the table behind theirs. He grabbed his half-full highball glass, rose to his feet and with a flick of his wrist flung the contents into Mitch’s face. As the alcohol burned Mitch’s eyes and soaked through the front of his shirt, he couldn’t help but think, what a terrible waste of the club’s finest whiskey.

      Gasps of surprise filled the silence as Lance stormed from the dining room. Mitch grabbed a linen napkin from the table and wiped his face. With all eyes on him now—most of them friends, neighbors or business associates—he jumped up from his chair and followed his brother to the crowded main lobby, calling, “Lance, wait! I can explain!”

      He caught up with him just outside the dining room door. To anyone watching, Lance appeared enraged. “Explain? What sort of man seduces his brother’s fiancée?”

      Mitch heard gasps from the crowd.

      “We didn’t mean for it to happen,” he said, finding it ironic that if Lance had discovered the truth, Mitch probably would have been saying the same thing. Although it would have been a lie. Lexi had admitted to using him to rob her husband of her virginity. Seems the joke was on both of them.

      “As far as I’m concerned, you and Lexi deserve each other,” Lance spat, and turned to leave. Just as they had choreographed, Mitch grabbed his arm.

      The fist came at him so swiftly that, had he not expected it, he wouldn’t have had time to duck. As it was, Mitch could only stand there defenseless as Lance’s fist connected squarely with his jaw. The blow knocked him backward several feet. He lost his balance and ended up on his ass on the unforgiving marble floor.

      Lance shot him one last seething look, then shouldered his way out the door. Mitch’s behind ached something special, his jaw stung like a mother and his pride had taken a hit, but the reaction from the patrons told him it had all been worth it. A steady buzz of voices hummed through the lobby and at least half a dozen people were jabbering excitedly into their cell phones. He gave it an hour before the entire population of Maverick County heard the news.

      Mitch swiped a hand across the corner of his mouth and came back with a smear of blood. Two employees appeared at either side to help him to his feet, and the hostess handed him a napkin to stop the bleeding.

      “I’m all right,” he mumbled, shrugging away from their help as though humiliated and distraught. From outside, he heard the squeal of tires and knew Lance was peeling out of the lot, putting the finishing touches on their little charade. And what a show it had been.

      He just hoped it was worth it.

Chapter Four

      With only Tara, Lance, and Mitch’s best friend Justin Dupree to serve as witnesses—her father had been called to D.C. on so-called urgent business—Lexi and Mitch said their “I do’s” before a county judge the following morning, then drove directly to the airport to catch the first leg of their flight to Greece.

      Lexi sat beside her new husband in first class, eyes closed, willing her stomach to settle. Either her hormones were wreaking havoc on her nerves, or her morning sickness had taken a severe turn for the worse. If it was the latter, to hell with having three or four children. This kid could count on being an only child. Up until now, she’d suffered only occasional, mild nausea. Today, she had vomited three times. Once at home, right after she crawled out of bed, once in the ladies’ room of the courthouse, and again in the airport bathroom just before their flight boarded. She was beginning to think this trip was a bad idea.

      Even worse than marrying Mitch Brody.

      “Are you all right?” Mitch said softly.

      Far from it. She swallowed back the bile rising in her throat and opened her eyes, grimacing once again when she saw the angry-looking bruise that spanned the left side of his jaw and the nasty gash at the corner of his mouth.

      “I’m fine,” she lied.

      There was concern etched on his face. He folded the newspaper he’d been reading—the financial section, of course—and set it in his lap. “No offense, but you’re looking a little green.”

      How nice of him to notice. “And you’re looking black and blue.”

      He reached up and rubbed a palm across his jaw, wincing slightly.

      “I can’t believe he hit you. Couldn’t he just have pretended to punch you?”

      Mitch shrugged, as if it was no big