Love, Lust & Life: MacGregor Family, #1

By Tiffani Lynn

Lizzie Martinson is on a much-needed vacation in Miami from her stressful job and a harsh Chicago winter. While there she meets sinful and sexy Beckett. Their connection is instant and intense—the way only a vacation hook-up can be. Beckett McGregor, also on vacation from Chicago, is unprepared for the chemistry he has with Lizzie. Unable to forget their passionate weekend, he makes a spontaneous decision to find her once he returns home. Together they're like lighter fluid on hot coals and equally complicated. Lizzie's country club elite past and Beckett's blue collar upbringing make their relationship difficult, and it's hard to tell who's making it worse—her sophisticated family or the salt-of-the-earth people who've always had his back. Beckett finds himself having to make an impossible decision: the woman of his dreams or the family that means the world to him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tiffani Lynn
• Release date: Dec 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781540160911

Tiffani Lynn

Tiffani is a music loving, baseball adoring, crazed hockey fan. She lives in Florida with her family. Writing romance is a passion for her as well as reading and spending time with friends. 

Book preview

Chapter One

Lizzie

Stretched out on the lounger by the pool in my little, red bikini, I’m trying to soak up the last bit of sunshine and warmth I can before I head back home to Chicago on a late afternoon flight. I decided a nice quiet vacation in Miami over Valentine’s Day would be exactly what I needed, and I was right. Between my friends and their super romantic plans with lovers or husbands, and the latest attempt by my parents to set me up with another boring politician, I decided escaping town for the week was a great idea. As I contemplate having to wrap up in a winter coat and boots again, someone stops right in front of me. I open my eyes to identify the person about to get my wrath for blocking the last of the golden rays I get to experience for a long while and am taken aback by the broad shoulders and trim waist outlined by the sun. As I sit up, a deep vibrating masculine voice queries, Can I join you for a second ?

Stunned by his forward nature, because men don’t usually approach me, I slide my sunglasses on top of my head and bring him into focus.

Green eyes, like the grassy meadows in Ireland, are trained on me, taking note of my reaction. He smiles at me while I gape like a fish out of water.

I’m Beckett, he states, then pauses, obviously waiting for me to reciprocate with my name, but I’m frozen for a few seconds. My eyes rake over his short dark hair, the playful dimple in his cheek and his small straight nose. Before I can move my assessing eyes lower, my brain finally snaps in to place and I respond, quiet and unsure, I’m Lizzie.

Nice to meet you, Lizzie. His voice rumbles through me and the panicky sensation I get around men bubbles to the surface. I reach over and pull the towel folded on the small table next to me over my exposed mid-drift to cover my naked skin. Wearing this bikini wasn’t an issue when I thought no one was looking.

I’ve been watching you since yesterday. I’m sorry if that sounds creepy, but I couldn’t help myself. I’m wondering if I can take you to dinner tonight?

I breathe a sigh of relief as I realize I have an easy out. Thank you for the invite, but my flight leaves in four hours. I’m trying to catch a few more rays of sunshine before I head back. I give him my best apologetic smile and wait for him to leave. He surprises me with a bigger grin, like he understands I’m nervous and likes making me

that

way

.

Well, it was nice meeting you, Lizzie. If you change your mind and decide to extend your vacation, please let me know. I’m in room 823. The offer doesn’t expire.

He’s so charming with the one-dimple-smile and unbelievably handsome, too. I’ve never seen shoulders as broad as his in person and the muscles in his arms are defined, but not like a body builder. More like a man who works hard, doing physical labor every day. I can’t understand what he’s doing over here talking to me. Beckett could be a rugged male model. His high cheek bones, long dark eyelashes, and perfectly arched eyebrows make him appear as if he just stepped off of the cover of a romance novel. It’s very intimidating for a plain-Jane kind of woman like myself.

Thank you, but I have to be back at work by tomorrow morning, so unfortunately, this is the end of my vacation.

He flashes me one more smile before he gets up and struts away with more confidence than an Armani model at the Paris Fashion Week. The muscles in his back ripple and flex as he moves and my swimsuit bottoms dampen at the thought of him without his swim trunks. I drop the towel back on the table and pull my sunglasses back down to cover my eyes, hoping to mask the fact that I watch as he rejoins a group of men all about his age. He’s obviously taking a ribbing about me shooting him down. Instead of appearing angry though, he turns to glance at me one more time, shares a sexy grin and leans back in his chair, leaving his masculine chest and six pack on display

for

me

.

Hours later, I’m sitting in the lobby of my posh Miami hotel, staring at my phone. My flight was cancelled due to blizzard like conditions with no option to re-book until the storm is over. According to weather reports, that could be up to 48 hours. What the hell? I have no idea why I didn’t check the weather this time of year, since I’m returning to Chicago, a place notorious for bad weather. I stand and pull my suitcase up to the desk and question the clerk, Can I rebook my room? My flight was cancelled indefinitely.

A mask of concern slips over her face as she replies, Ms. Martinson, the hotel is booked solid tonight. I think everyone had the same issue you did. Let me make some calls to other hotels and see if we can get you booked.

Oh, I can do that myself. I’m sure you’re far too busy for that, I

tell

her

.

"No, no, no. I’ll be glad to help you. Give me a few minutes. Why don’t you have a seat at the bar and I’ll come find you once it’s done? I’ll keep your

suitcase

,

too

."

"Well, I could use a drink, so I’ll take you up on that. Thank you for

your

help

."

Ten minutes later, I’m halfway through a Long Island Iced Tea when someone props up against the bar next to me. I glance over and blush when I realize it’s Beckett. My heart flips and my stomach drops when he flashes me a wicked grin. Snowed out?

he

asks

.

I tilt my head wondering how he would know that. As if he understands my unspoken question, he answers, "One of my buddies was flying to Kansas City and had to come back from the airport because his flight was cancelled. That’s the only reason I can figure you’re not on your way back home

by

now

."

I sigh. Yes, I should have looked at the weather and left a day early, but I was too busy enjoying the Florida sun. I’m screwed. I’m going to be so far behind at work. I take a slug of my drink in a very unladylike fashion.

So where are you staying? My buddy’s crashing with one of the other guys since there’re no rooms available.

I don’t know. They’re calling other hotels to find something for me. I can’t believe this. I feel like an idiot.

He reaches over and pushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and I involuntarily shudder. His lips kick up on one side. So, can I take you to dinner once you’re settled in your new hotel?

Um, I… I… I stutter as I attempt to get the right

words

out

.

Men make me nervous; I’ve never been able to keep my cool around them. It’s not that anything major happened to me I was just awkward and shy through middle and high school when other girls were dating and learning how to deal with the opposite sex. My thick, dorky glasses, buck teeth, and knobby knees did not make me a candidate for anything but teasing. Don’t get me wrong, I have dated, but the majority of men I’ve been around socially since I grew up always seem to be the same kind of man. Arrogant, self-centered, and slightly obnoxious. I have no interest in wasting my time with people like that so I don’t.

According to my parents, I should’ve been married off to some big-time banker, or senator, or something by now. I just happen to be terrible with self-centered jerks, so I stopped accepting date requests a long time ago to avoid the embarrassment that came with that stuff.

Before I can finish my response, the desk clerk approaches me with a look of dread on her face. I’m sorry, Ms. Martinson. I can’t find a single hotel with a room available. Between the flight issues and a dance convention in town everything is full. I didn’t try any one or two-star facilities, but I can. I didn’t want to do it without talking to you first. Dread settles in the pit of my stomach. I’m not a snob by any means, but staying in a sub-par hotel in a sketchy part of town by myself sounds like a

terrible

idea

.

I tap the bar behind me. The bartender glances up at me as he continues filling a beer stein. Can I have a double shot of tequila?

He nods once and pours it, setting the lime and salt next to it. I shake my head and slam the double shot back relishing the burn as it travels to my stomach, before I turn back to the desk clerk. "I can get online and book one of those. Thank you so much for

your

help

."

She appears uncertain, and I know it’s because of my status, my family, that she’s afraid to upset me. I’m not like them, but their reputation is known far and wide as snobbish, entitled, and privileged. They’ve also stayed here before so she’s likely encountered them. I’m glad Beckett didn’t ask my last name. The knowledge might have sent him running before I got one of those smiles.

It’s okay. I appreciate all you’ve done. I can handle it from here. She nods as she chews on the inside of her lip. I flash her a small smile to reassure her. She turns and strides back to the

reception

desk

.

I look back up to find Beckett still standing there with the same sexy smirk on his face. Ready for a solution? He rests both his elbows on the bar, laces his fingers together and I can’t help but follow the motion. He has large, rugged, real-man hands. The kind you want to caress you from head to toe in the dark of night.

I know I shouldn’t ask, but I can’t help myself. I take another swig of my drink. What kind of solution?

You can let me take you to dinner and then you can share my room. The look on his face tells me he thinks this is a seriously viable solution. My mouth drops open, and I’m sure the look is similar to the fish gape I had by the pool earlier in the day. He doesn’t break eye contact, and I realize the light green polo he’s wearing makes his eyes more lethal than before. I bet this guy gets whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. He’s

that

hot

.

I’m not saying you have to have sex with me, but I am offering you a place to stay. The only price is you having dinner with me. I promise I’ll be a complete gentleman.

I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t even know you. You could be a serial killer, or a rapist, or something along those lines, I argue.

You’re right, I could be. But I’m not. I’m a building contractor, not a serial killer. I’ve never had to force a woman to have sex with me. If fact, I don’t even usually initiate sex. His smile never leaves his face, and I’m mesmerized by the combination of his eyes and smile and that damn dimple.

"Come on, would you rather attempt a one-star motel in a shady part of town to avoid dinner with me, or stay in this lovely establishment where you’re safe and have dinner with me. I promise not

to

bite

."

I pound the rest of my drink, lick my lips and reply, What happens if you decide during dinner you don’t like me? I won’t have anywhere to stay and it’ll be weird. That’s a real possibility if you look at my previous dates over the years. However, the liquor is already running through my veins full throttle, and I realize my inhibitions are dropping because it suddenly doesn’t sound like a bad idea anymore. This is why I rarely drink.

I tap the bar again requesting a single shot this time. The only way I’ll be able to make a decision, the one I really want to make, is by loosening up further. When I’m done Beckett pierces me with his eyes. "If dinner doesn’t go well, I’ll find somewhere else to stay and you can have

my

room

."

There is no way this guy is for real. I blink at him a few times while I process what he said. Between the alcohol and the idea of sleeping in a crappy motel, the choice

is

easy

.

Okay.

That’s a yes? he probes.

I nod. He calls the bartender over and tells him to put the drinks on his room. Then pulls me by the hand back to the front desk. "She’ll be staying in room 823 with me. Can you have her bags

sent

up

?"

The desk clerk blushes and replies, "

Yes

,

sir

."

He propels me toward the elevator and once we’re inside presses the eight button. On the second floor, more people get on the elevator so he tugs me back against his incredibly firm body and wraps an arm around my waist, securing my position. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to settle my nerves. I’ve never done anything remotely like this. We exit and walk to his room with his hand on the small of my back. The contact sends chills down my spine.

Not the luxury suite I vacated earlier, but his room is adequate, although it only has a king-size bed, not two queens like I expected. His balcony does have a beach view though. A knock on the door signals the arrival of my suitcase. He takes my bag from the bellhop and

tips

him

.

I’ll leave you to get ready. Is an hour sufficient?

Um… I probably only need a half hour to be honest. I showered before I went downstairs earlier.

Okay, I’ll pick you up in 30 minutes. Do you have any preferences for dinner?

No, I eat anything.

See you soon. He grins as he closes the door, and I stand staring at his retreating back, wondering what in the hell I’m doing. It doesn’t matter than I’m an adult my mother will have a heart attack if she finds out about this arrangement.

Thirty minutes later, I’m standing in a little black dress and black strappy heels, inspecting myself in the mirror, when the door opens and he appears. Hey, I need to change. Give me five minutes. He collects something from the closet and a few things from his suitcase and disappears into the bathroom as I apply my lipstick.

He strolls out of the bathroom in charcoal tailored slacks with a black button down shirt. He’s ridiculously hot, and I feel the strip of lace between my legs dampen in response.

You look amazing, he

compliments

me

.

"Thank you. You

do

,

too

."

At dinner, conversation is easier than it’s ever been with a man for me. I don’t know if he senses my awkwardness and tailors the conversation, or if it’s the amount of alcohol in my system.

After dinner, he laces his fingers in mine. An intimate gesture that startles me. "Let’s take a walk. The weather is beautiful