Rich, Rugged...Royal

* Eat third hot fudge sundae to numb the fact that I am in love with my roommate!

Contents

Chapter One (#uf108f5a0-47d1-5b4f-8567-d1a618398298)

Chapter Two (#u05587d13-ed48-5c7f-8fa4-0de74fec13ce)

Chapter Three (#u22dfb218-eeac-5982-abb8-c96012ec595d)

Chapter Four (#u40ac4d85-e666-50d1-814f-7637ac4fdc4d)

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)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One

“Were there any men at the wedding?” Clarice Carlyle took a tiny bite of dessert and tilted her head expectantly, an avaricious gleam in her eye.

Lauren resisted the urge to sigh. Why couldn’t her mother realize that not everything in life revolved around men? The fact that she was almost thirty and still unmarried drove her mother crazy. But she wasn’t going to settle for just anyone. Or marry for money, as her mother hoped.

Lauren wanted the fairy tale. She wanted a man to sweep her off her feet, to love her with a passion that defied logic. Quite simply, she wanted to live happily ever after.

“They didn’t invite any men,” Lauren said flatly when the silence lengthened and she realized her mother actually expected an answer to the ridiculous question.

Clarice looked askance for a second before she chuckled. “Of course there were men there. Chicago is full of men. What I was asking was if you’d met anyone interesting?”

“I danced with several different men.” Lauren skirted the question, her answer honest as far as it went. Most of the evening had been spent either talking or dancing with old college friends.

“Didn’t anyone in particular catch your eye?”

Lauren sipped the Guatemalan coffee blend and hoped the heat stealing its way up her neck didn’t give her away. One particular man had done a lot more than catch her eye.

“What’s his name?”

“Who?” Lauren took a bite of cheesecake, desperately wishing she’d left right after dinner.

“The man who is making you blush,” Clarice said. “I assume he was good-looking?”

Good-looking?

An image of Alex’s face flashed before Lauren. Good-looking would be an understatement. She’d always liked men with dark hair. And Alex’s hazel eyes held flecks of gold and green in their depths. At just over six feet, he was tall enough without being too tall, with a lean, muscular body and broad shoulders. In his arms, a woman could feel soft and feminine and utterly desirable.

“He was handsome,” Lauren said into the expectant silence. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ll never see him again.”

Having a one-night stand was one thing. Lauren wasn’t going to compound the error by pretending the interlude had been about anything more than sex.

Clarice made a tsk-tsking sound. “You always were such a pessimist.”

“Realist,” Lauren said.

“If your father and I taught you anything,” Clarice said. “It should be that where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

“He’s in Chicago, Mother,” Lauren said, wondering why she continued to take part in this awkward discussion. It wasn’t as if the cheesecake was that good. “Even if I wanted to get in touch with him, I wouldn’t have a clue how to do it.”

Clarice leaned forward. “Surely some of his friends were at the wedding?”

“He was an old college roommate of Tom Alvarez.” Lauren shrugged. “That’s all I know.”

It wasn’t, of course, all she knew, just all she was willing to share. Her mother didn’t need to know what Alex looked like naked or that he spoke French when he made love.

“Tom Alvarez.” Clarice’s brows drew together. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

Lauren sighed. Tom had lived in St. Louis for several years and Clarice had met him on more than one occasion. Apparently he hadn’t been high enough on the social ladder to warrant remembering. “He’s Christy Warner’s publicist.”

“Of course.” Clarice smiled. She certainly remembered the popular motivational speaker and her husband. “You should call Christy. Or David. I’m sure they’d help you track him down.”

“No way.” On this, Lauren would brook no argument.

Four years ago David Warner had been the man Lauren had planned to marry. Then, on a weekend trip to Las Vegas, he’d married his old high-school girlfriend on a whim. Lauren had long since forgiven them both and they were now all friends, but the last thing she wanted was for Christy or David to think she was so desperate she’d chase after a man who hadn’t cared enough to ask for her number.

No, she may have behaved foolishly this weekend, but she was no fool.

“What does this mystery man do for a living?” her mother asked.

Lauren took a bite of dessert, getting an odd sense of satisfaction from knowing she was about to burst her mother’s bubble. “He’s unemployed.”

The excitement in her mother’s eyes dimmed but a flicker of hope remained. “Independently wealthy?”