Lone Star Lovers

The words died on Penelope’s lips when a female shriek rose on the air. “Where is he? Where is that son of a bitch who owes me money?”

The crowd gasped and Pen’s hand tightened on his forearm.

Zach turned in the direction of the outburst to find a rail-thin redhead in a long black dress waving a rolled-slash-wadded stack of paper in her hand. Her brown eyes snapped around the room, and her upper lip curled in a way that made him wonder how he’d ever found her attractive.

Granted she wasn’t foaming at the mouth when they’d exchanged their vows.

“You.” Her eyes landed on him as the security guards positioned around the house rushed toward her. Zach held up a hand to stop them. He’d try and talk Yvonne down from whatever crazy idea she’d birthed before they caused a bigger scene.

“V,” he said, hoping to gain ground with the nickname he’d coined the night they met. A night soaked in tequila. “You’re at my brother’s birthday party. You have my attention. Is there something I can help you with?”

A big, bald security guy with an ugly scar down one cheek stepped closer to Yvonne, his mitts poised to drag her out the second Zach gave the signal.

“Write me a check for a million dollars and I’ll be on my way.” Yvonne cocked her head and waved the crumpled stack of papers in front of her. “Or else I’ll tear up our annulment.”

Tearing it up wouldn’t make it go away. What was her angle?

“Marrying you entitled me to at least half your fortune, Zachary Ferguson.”

It was laughable that she thought a million was half.

Penelope’s hand slipped from his forearm and Zach reached over and put it back.

“Ex-wife,” he corrected for Penelope’s—hell, for everyone’s—benefit. “And no, it doesn’t.”

“I’m going to make your life miserable, Zachary Ferguson. You just wait.”

“Too late.” He gave a subtle nod to the beefcake guard who circled Yvonne’s upper arm in his firm grip as he warned her against fighting him.

To her credit, she didn’t struggle. But neither did she go willingly. Yvonne’s eyes sliced over to Penelope. “Who is this? Are you cheating on me?”

Here they went again. Yvonne had asked that question so many times in the two days they were married, Zach would swear she’d gone to bed sane and woken crazy.

He’d had the good sense to get out of the marriage, which was more than he could say for the sense he’d had going in. The details were fuzzy: Vegas, Elvis, the Chapel of Love, etcetera, etcetera... Getting married had seemed fun at the time, but spontaneity had its downfalls. Within twenty-four hours Yvonne had grown horns and a forked tongue.

“Make it two million dollars,” Yvonne hissed, illustrating his point. The guard tugged her back a step, looking inconvenienced when she fought him.

Zach had money—plenty of it—but relinquishing it to the crazed redhead wasn’t going to make her go away. If anything, she’d be back for more later.

“Get her out of here,” Zach said smoothly, putting his hand over Pen’s. “She’s upsetting my fiancée.”

“Your what?” Yvonne asked at the same time Penelope stiffened at his side.

“Penelope Brand, my fiancée. Yvonne, uh...” What was her maiden name? “Yvonne, my ex-wife.” Yvonne’s eyes burned with anger—flames Zach was only too happy to fan. “Penelope and I are engaged to be married. It’s real, unlike what you and I had. You can contact my lawyers with any further questions.”

Yvonne shrieked like the eels from The Princess Bride as security dragged her away.

Another security detail, this one slimmer but no less mean-looking, stepped in front of Zach.

“How the hell did she get in here?”

His eyes dipped to his shoes in chagrin before meeting Zach’s angry expression again. “We’ll call the police department, sir.”

“No, don’t. She’s exuberant, but harmless.” He took a breath. Who wanted to deal with the paperwork?

“Very well.” Security Guy Number Two followed in the path of the beefy guy.

Chase took his place, using his extra two inches of height to scowl down at Zach. “Let me get this straight,” his brother said in that exaggerated calm way he had about him. “You’re engaged...and married?”

“Was married.”

“You didn’t tell me you were married.”

“Well, it only lasted forty-four hours.”

“And you—” Chase’s hawk-like gaze snapped away from Zach to lock on Penelope “—didn’t tell me you were engaged to my brother.”

“I—” Pen started.

“It’s not true.” Zach couldn’t bullshit a bullshitter, and his brother was in politics, so he was overqualified. “I wanted to refocus Yvonne’s attention.”

He would come clean with Chase, even though he’d been left out of the loop where Stefanie was concerned. Zach had known Stef was having some issues but he didn’t realize his brother had called in the cavalry in the form of Penelope’s PR services.

“You succeeded,” Chase said. He smiled amiably at Penelope. “Looks like you’ve secured your next client, Ms. Brand. I trust you can clean up my brother’s mess.”

A few truncated sounds that might have been Pen struggling for breath came from her throat, but she reined in her simmering argument to say, “Yes. Of course.”

“Excellent.” Chase lifted his voice to address the guests milling around the bar. “If everyone would find your seats in the dining room, dinner will be served shortly.” He turned his attention back to Zach and Penelope. “I assume you two would prefer to sit together.”

Zach simply smiled as he looked down at a wide-eyed Penelope. This evening had fun written all over it. “I wouldn’t allow my fiancée to sit with anyone else.”

Three (#uabe5f72d-6942-5069-a507-4b21679a60ea)

Penelope strolled into the oversize ballroom on Zach’s arm. The mansion boasted enough round tables and slipcovered chairs to seat the mayor’s one-hundred-plus guests. Similar to a wedding, there was a head table for the guests of honor. In this case those guests were Mayor Chase Ferguson, Stefanie Ferguson, Zach and the recent addition of Penelope.

The rectangular table was set apart from the others and dotted with votive candles and low vases with flower arrangements.

A few staff members from the mayor’s office were also seated at the head table. A plucky, talkative woman named Barb, Roger, who looked and acted the part of secret service, and a scowling, large-framed man named Emmett Keaton.

Emmett, who had been introduced as the mayor’s “friend and confidant,” had short, cropped hair, a healthy dash of stubble on his face and eyed Stefanie with disdain the entire time he ate his pear and Gorgonzola salad. Stefanie had glared at him from her spot across the table before rolling her eyes and drinking down her white wine.

Clearly there was no love lost between those two.

Penelope wasn’t surprised. Stefanie’s recent scrape had drawn attention to the Ferguson family—and not the good kind. It would make sense that she wasn’t favored among the mayor’s staff.

Speaking of scrapes, Pen now had another to deal with in the form of Zach’s ex-wife. Pen didn’t know what shocked her more—that Zach had married the unhinged woman, or that he’d been married at all. It might be a tie.

Zach wasn’t the marrying type. He was the one-night-stand type. Or so Pen had thought.