Third Time's the Charm

By Patricia Holden

Sarah Jane Rappaport returns from an unsuccessful antiques scouting trip to find her boss waiting for her. He offers to forget the cost of her unfruitful trip, one of many, in exchange for a physical relationship. She turns him down flat, and leaves behind her worldly possessions in a work sponsored living space. She takes refuge with a friend who is engaged to the brother of her boss's arch-nemesis, Christian Pernoud.

Christian Pernoud is the third of the infamous Pernoud brothers, some of the richest men on the planet. He is a structural engineer specializing in retrofitting vintage buildings. Known as the family smart aleck and using Beethoven sonatas to sooth his wounded heart, Christian's head was turned by Sarah Jane years earlier. She didn't believe him, and turned him down flat. That didn't change anything for Christian, and when he discovers what his old high school enemy does to his Sarah Jane, basically to get revenge on him, he decides to rescue his damsel in distress.

Because of the nature of Sarah Jane's employment, she needs expensive lawyers to help her get out of the mess. Christian finances her legal bills, and foots the bill for expenses, all of which Sarah Jane can pay back once she can get the liens taken off of her bank accounts. The nasty insinuations from her former boss that she ran to Christian after his proposition force Christian and Sarah Jane to marry. They believe their marriage is in name only. No one else does.

On a trip to deal with business overseas, both Christian and Sarah Jane come to the conclusion that they want to marriage to be real, but have to come to grips with throwing out an agreement made in the heat of the emergency. They find out the third time getting married is the charm when his family forces the issue of a church wedding rather than a simple legal agreement.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patricia Holden
• Release date: Apr 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310839139

Patricia Holden

A resident of Flyover Country in the Unites States, Patricia Holden, the pen name of a good Catholic girl from the Midwest, is committed to Christianity and traditional social roles, as well as high arts and culture. Watching politics, observing human behavior and writing are some of her long-time interests. The author known as Patricia Holden is a classically trained soprano and proud citizen of Cardinal Nation, although, during hockey season, Bleeds Blue. She lives with family and a cute and charming tyrant...make that a toy dog. She also crochets.Please, visit this writer's Facebook author page @PatriciaHoldenAuthor for reader fellowship and frequent conversations about upcoming books including voting on cover art, and snippets of upcoming offerings.

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Third Time’s the Charm

by Patricia Holden

Published by Susan Sampson at SmashWords

Copyright 2016 Susan Sampson

Cover Photo by Noelle Franzen

Other Titles from Patricia Holden on Smashwords:

Turn My Head

Break Through

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For updates, news, and the occasional snippet of upcoming installments, follow my facebook page at www.facebook.com/PatriciaHoldenAuthor. Friends who are not on Facebook, but would like updates can subscribe to my newsletter at https://tinyletter.com/PatriciaHolden.

The first six books of the Turn My Head series, available via this ebook retailer, are:

Turn My Head – Adam Pernoud and Mae Jones

Break Through – Ben Pernoud and Darcy Platt

Third Time’s the Charm – Christian Pernoud and Sarah Jane Rappaport

Conflict of Interest - Damian Pernoud and Margot Dolan

Romeo Night – Ed Pernoud and Beth Hartke

Last Man Standing – Francis Pernoud and Rosemary Fallon

Chapter 1

Sarah Jane Rappaport reminded herself not to lean back on the seat of the cab and doze. God only knew what was on it, and whether or not it was contagious. She took a deep breath, and watched the scenery of her neighborhood, the beautifully tree lined, and historic in a Victorian sort of way, Central West End in St. Louis, go by through the window. She was on her way home from Nashville after a grueling, and not exactly fruitful tracking trip. Her task for this week was to find the original light fixtures from the historic building in downtown St. Louis the design firm she worked for was renovating, and either acquire them, or at least get enough photos of the darn things that they could be copied. The original set had been stripped from the building, and sold off for profit by a developer a few decades back. Sarah Jane had been able to trace them to Nashville where the buyer put them in a dive bar. As they quit functioning, the new bar owner had just thrown them out in favor of newer lighting until he got down to the last three, and then sold them as a set. It took the entire week to find the only surviving fixture, and convince the owner to sell it so that she could find a die caster to remake them.

She certainly hoped the redeveloper had deep pockets, because this project was going to get more expensive really fast if she had too many more of the original accents to find, and have remade.

The cab pulled up in front of her building, an old mattress warehouse that had been converted to lofts as open space living took over the chic of the fashionable neighborhoods. A sense of foreboding washed over her. Greg Snively, the owner of the firm where she worked, stood at the secured door entrance. This could not possibly be good, she thought. She got out of the cab, paid the driver, took the handle of her rolling luggage, and walked up to him. What are you doing here? she asked without thinking. It was dinner time on a Friday evening. Why would he possibly be at her place?

He was dressed as he normally was, khakis with a dark plaid button down shirt, and penny loafers that had seen better days. His nondescript dark hair was cut conservatively, and laid limp against his scalp. Dark, caterpillar eyebrows that made him look menacing met over the bridge of his nose. Pale skin was showing a five o’clock shadow this late in the day. His steely gray eyes narrowed when he crossed his arms over his rounding chest and said, You didn’t find the fixtures. To Sarah Jane’s ears, it came out like an accusation.

Sarah Jane stood up her suitcase next to her, and considered how to answer him. He had been trying to micromanage her lately, even though he had no idea how she did her job, and expressed no interest in learning, either. Whatever his purpose for being here this evening could not be good.

She started with what she considered to be a reasonable explanation for the lack of success on this trip. I can’t do much about it when the fixtures and accents no longer exist. I did manage to find one, so at least there is a model for the die casters to use.

Yeah, well, his mouth, the orifice where his lips barely existed, compressed smugly, I’ve kind of decided that, uh, letting you go on these little jaunts without any results is just not going to work without a little something extra on the side for me. Having to explain to clients that these expenses are part of the process is getting tedious. His arms uncoiled, and he reached out to brush the back of one hand along her cheek. Since you sent Christian Pernoud packing, you’ve seemed awfully lonely. He stepped closer so that she could smell his stale musk. Somehow, she kept her stomach from heaving. We can take care of you and me and forget about the expenses-

Sarah Jane slapped his hand away from her face. Are you insane? she asked in complete outrage. Turning down Christian Pernoud definitely did NOT make her automatically available. Especially not to Greg Snively. Christian, at least, was worth giving up being single for, even if she wasn’t sure she really believed him when he said she turned his head. She was definitely attracted to Christian, though, and had wanted to explore her options with him before he told her that. The sight of him still sent butterflies through her midsection, actually, and she wouldn’t mind being intimate…mmm. Only with Christian, though. The thought of doing the sorts of things couples did with Greg Snively turned her stomach.

Greg’s greedy eyes travelled to the deep V of her neckline, and the hint of cleavage above her bra. No, I’m not insane, he said practically drooling on her generous bust, just thinking I’m not getting my money’s worth with you. He reached out to brush against a full breast, and stopped just short of touching her. I think I have a solution-

Sarah Jane stepped back, and bumped into her suitcase. No, no way. You can’t do this, she said with convicted horror.

Snively ran the tip of his tongue along his upper lip as his greedy eyes drifted to hers. Well, actually, you have a choice. You can do this my way, or I terminate your contract now.

Shock reverberated through Sarah Jane. You’re firing me? For not sleeping with you?

Greg’s eyes brimmed with malice. Your contract says that either party can terminate the contract at any time for any reason. Well, you’re taking these scouting trips, and on most of them, there’s less than satisfactory results.

Sarah Jane felt her breath catch. You know that’s part of the deal. Tracking down antiquities is an expensive task.

Yeah, well, it’s not cost effective for me. So, I’m giving you a choice. His eyes drifted down her body. I get what Christian Pernoud wanted, and you keep your job, the roof over your head, etc.

You’re blackmailing me for sex? Wasn’t that illegal?

It’s all a matter of perspective, he said with all the smug satisfaction of a land shark. And if you look at your contract, and realize that the loft, your car, you bank accounts, the cell phone you’re using, and all the rest are part of the compensation package, I would rethink refusing me if I were you.

Sarah Jane’s mouth sagged open. She could not believe what she was hearing. You are going to take away everything I have just because I won’t sleep with you.

Snively gave a Gallic shrug. Your choice.

That’s unethical, she retorted.

That’s life. He said with victory written all over his face. So, how about it. Me and the hot tub or the streets.

Sarah Jane started to shake with anger. She pulled her laptop and cell phone from her shoulder bag, and thrust them at him. I assume you’ve cut off key card access to my loft, and have an extra key to the car. Fine. Here’s the computer and the cell phone, and I want the contents of my loft that did not come with it delivered-

Delivered? That unibrow lifted into the fringe of his hairline. Sweetheart, whatever is in that loft is my property by the laws of possession.

Another shock rocked her system.

You can’t do that, she protested.

His mouth twisted like a baby cobra’s. I just did.

You’ll be hearing from my lawyer, she said with amazing bravado since at this point she didn’t have one.

Snively smirked. Your accounts are frozen. I don’t know how you are going to find one. He started to laugh, and Sarah Jane turned on her customary two inch heels, grabbed her suitcase handle, and walked away from Greg Snively, her job, her home, and her Bösendorfer as fast as they would carry her.

Sarah Jane’s feet carried her the six blocks to her best friend’s townhouse. Darcy Platt was a local television reporter with model level dark looks, and a sweet disposition, who, like Sarah Jane, was not a native of St. Louis and thus really didn’t have much of a support system here. The natives were friendly, but since so many of them were actually parts of huge families and networks already in place thanks to generations not leaving the area as they married off, those who weren’t from town tended to gravitate toward each other. Sarah Jane and Darcy met walking through the neighborhood, and bonded over coffee and lunch on Saturdays when both of them actually had time to breathe. When things got weird between her and Christian last year, Darcy listened to Sarah Jane vent, and helped her get through it. A couple months ago, when Christian’s older brother Ben started sniffing around Darcy, Sarah Jane tried not to be jealous. Ben was a seriously nice, decent guy, and Darcy deserved someone like him. Christian, on the other hand, was a smart ass. A hot, and rich smart ass, but a smart ass. At least Sarah Jane thought so.

When she walked up to Darcy’s house, Sarah Jane was weak with relief seeing lights on all over the façade. Darcy had gone with the Pernouds to Europe for Ben and Christian’s older brother Adam’s wedding the week before. It looked like she was back home. Why the family patriarch, and oldest brother of one of the richest families on the planet, was getting married for the first time in his late thirties was a story she’d love to know, but right now, Sarah Jane had priorities. She needed a roof over her head at least for the night while she figured out how to deal with getting to the money and accounts Snively didn’t know she had, and getting to the safe deposit box key that was still in her loft. Everything she needed to get herself out of this disaster was in there. She had to get into it as soon as possible. Right now, though, she was just glad that Darcy was back home. Tonight, she needed her friend’s help.

When she opened her front door, Darcy took one look at Sarah Jane, whose trench was hanging off her shoulders, and her hair was all but falling out of the French twist she put it in this morning, and swept her into her kitchen for a cup of tea. They sat at the table where Sarah Jane poured out the story. Darcy clucked at her a bit and asked. So what are you going to do?

Well, I was wondering if I could crash with you for the night. Sarah Jane looked around, and for the first time noticed the stacks of packing boxes in the kitchen. Her eyes snapped to Darcy’s. Darcy, what’s going on?

The door leading to the alley out back opened, and the two people Sarah Jane really did not want to see walked through it. Ben Pernoud, nice guy that he was, and his younger brother Christian, the man who swore up and down she had turned his head in some sort of Pernoud family love at first sight tradition. They were both dressed for the field in work chinos and navy blue Pernoud Brothers Engineering Company polo shirts.

All the Pernoud brothers had longer faces and aristocratic features, and some variation of brown eyes, brown hair, and the sort of wide shoulders that make women pant. Ben was a little taller, and a lot darker than Christian. A little less stocky, too, not that it mattered to Sarah Jane since Darcy got up from her seat to greet him with a possessive kiss. Sarah Jane’s eyes met Christian’s, and he shrugged with an acceptance that almost looked depressing. Not for the first time, she felt her heart rate kick up at the sight of Christian’s short brown beard, and the brown curls that tended to bleach in the sun. And the shoulders…well, who wouldn’t swoon over those.

Sarah Jane Rappaport, Ben said with the deep drawl he shared with their older brother Adam. Haven’t seen you in ages.

Sarah Jane smiled weakly. How are you Ben?

He grinned a ten thousand watt smile that should be illegal. Since your best friend is going to marry me, fabulous.

Marry you? Sarah Jane’s eyes all but popped out of her head when Darcy lifted her left hand to show off her ring. The diamond sparkled.

You were so miserable when you walked in, I didn’t get a chance to tell you, Darcy said.

Sarah Jane felt shock set in for the second time that evening, and slumped a little in her chair.

Miserable? Christian, with the velvety voice she would know anywhere, spoke for the first time. Sarah Jane’s gaze snapped to his. Why are you miserable? Was it just her, or did he look and sound concerned.

Sarah Jane smiled wanly at him. It’s nothing, Christian. Just some things going on.

Without taking his eyes from her face, Christian walked to the table, turned around the chair Darcy had vacated, straddled it, sat, and said, Try again.

Sarah Jane felt her eyes roll a bit. Christian-

Don’t try to fob me off Sarah. Her shoulders slumped a little, and her eyes dipped. You look whipped and scared.

Christian-

Why do I smell Greg Snively? he said, suspicion lacing his deep voice.

Her head snapped up, and she looked into his narrowed, clear, whiskey brown eyes.

I knew it, he said the anger fairly radiating from him. She saw one of his hands curl into a fist out of the corner of his eye.

Knew what? Really, what did he know that she didn’t.

Christian’s lips, more full, and a lot more inviting than Greg’s twisted in his beard. That he was going to screw you over. What did he do? he asked with force.

Christian, this really isn’t any of your business, she said, putting a bit of exasperation in her voice.

I’m making it my business. He shot back.

Why?

She watched him swallow. Because I’ve been watching Greg Snively use, abuse and screw people over for more than twenty years. I’ve called him on it. I punched him out at prom when he tried to romance somebody else’s date. I even caught him cheating on the physics exam when we were seniors in high school, and couldn’t prove it to the moderator. I know the son of a bitch, and I knew sooner or later he was going to do something slimy and nasty to you. Now, what did he do? The last was said in a tone that told Sarah Jane he was just about out of patience.

Sarah Jane looked toward where she had last seen Darcy and Ben for help. They were gone. She had to make a decision. She looked into his eyes. Men like Christian tended to take action. She just hoped what she told him would not result in bloodshed.

Promise you won’t tell a soul? she asked hoping to God she could just confide in him, and he would go away.

No, he said, his patience obviously gone.

Why not? she wanted to know.

Because you are sitting in Darcy’s kitchen packed for a trip, he said as if that explained it.

I actually just got back, she corrected.

Alright still packed from a trip, he shrugged.

I was in Nashville looking for those art deco fixtures for the building downtown, she told him. After all, he was the structural engineer who was fixing the foundation.

Great, he said, his concentration on her problems undeterred. Now what did Snively do? Impatience radiated from him.

You’re not going to let this go, are you? she asked working her way to exasperation.

He moved his jaw. Nothing has changed, alright? It’s all still there. My head’s still turned. It’s not going away, and I want to know what Snively did.

There was nothing for it. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Not this time. Not when he still believed….

When I got back this evening… Sarah Jane repeated the conversation she had with Greg Snively to him, and watched his jaw clench through the beard as the outrage built in his eyes.

He actually said he wanted what you didn’t give me?

Christian, did you hear what I said? He’s holding all my stuff hostage. He froze my bank accounts that are through his company. I can’t get to my car. My Bösendorfer is in the loft, and so is the safety deposit key I need to get to my other bank books, and my ID documents. At least I have my personal credit cards, and my own cell phone, even if I haven’t used the cards in so long, they probably need to be reactivated.

Christian shook his head. No, he’ll have everything shut down. All of it. He may not know about the safety deposit key, and don’t tell him. he said with conviction.

How could he do that? she asked. All Snively knew about was her information through the company, not the trust fund she had from her father, or any of the other family money or jewels that had been passed down.

Believe me, when it comes to Greg Snively, he goes to great lengths to get what he wants. Christian’s eyes took on a calculating quality. You were a contractor?

Sort of. It was classified as employee, but I had a termination clause in the contract.

So, you can find another job quickly? He asked, his brows lowering.

She sucked in her breath. Uh-oh.

He put a non-compete in the contract didn’t he? Christian said before compressing his lips.

She nodded. What does that mean?

It means most likely that you can’t work in this market as a scrounger for a while.

Sarah Jane moaned, and let her head sag back onto her shoulders.

It also means, he started, that you aren’t going after him alone.

She looked at him. Who in the hell is going to help a broke woman with no roof over her head.

A corner of his mouth lifted. You’d be surprised. You wouldn’t happen to know where we can get our hands on a copy of the contract do you?

Sarah Jane wasn’t stupid. She knew where this was going. Christian was going to try to rescue her, the damsel in distress. No. She shook her head.

Sarah, be reasonable. I’ve got access to the resources to make him pay. He cocked a brow.

I don’t want him to pay, I just want my Bösendorfer, she said wearily.

That will be part of the deal. He sounded reasonable, but his eyes were breathing fire.

Do you even know what a Bösendorfer is? she asked him.

He looked at her broodingly. How many keys? Nine feet, ten feet?

Why should she not be surprised that a Pernoud actually knew the specs on a hand-crafted piano built so that organists could play organ music without the pipes. Nine feet seven. 97 keys.

A Steinway wouldn’t do? he asked, the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

She shot him a look. There was the Christian she wanted to clobber. I also play organ at the Shrine of St. Joseph downtown. Fortunately, my organ shoes are there.

A corner of his mouth ticked up. "If he doesn’t give the Bösendorfer back, I’ll