All I Want Is You

By Candace Havens

Hawke Vance will do whatever it takes to protect the family business, even if it means protecting it from his own father, a man who’s just gotten hitched in Vegas to wife number nine. Growing up seeing how much chaos wedded bliss creates, Hawke’s sworn never to fall into the matrimony trap. But to get the all-important controlling shares of the company, he does need a wife.

Being caught skinny dipping is not the way ballerina Amy Powell planned to start her vacation. When the hot biker who catches her turns out to be the owner of the house she’s staying in, she’s mortified. But embarrassment soon turns to confusion and a good dose of lust when Mr. Sex on a Stick offers her the money she needs to save her brother if she’ll agree to marry him and play pretend for two months.

Only this game of make-believe quickly starts feeling too real…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Apr 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781633759282

Candace Havens

Candace "Candy" Havens is a best selling and award-winning author. She is a two-time RITA, Write Touch Reader and Holt Medallion finalist. She is also the winner of the Barbara Wilson award. Candy is a nationally syndicated entertainment columnist for FYI Television. A veteran journalist she has interviewed just about everyone in Hollywood and you can hear Candy weekly on New Country 96.3 KSCS in the Dallas Fort Worth Area.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

If you love sexy romance, one-click these steamy Brazen releases…

Emergency Attraction

Make Me Beg

A Moment of Madness

Sweet Victory

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2017 by Candace Havens. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 109

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

Brazen is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC. For more information on our titles, visit www.brazenbooks.com.

Edited by Heidi Shoham

Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill

Cover art from Shutterstock

ISBN 978-1-63375-928-2

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition April 2017

To my one and only, thank you for always assuming I can achieve my dreams.

Chapter One

Mike the Motorhead Millionaire Marries…Again.

Hawke groaned as the all-too-familiar headline punched him in the gut. For the love of all that was fucking holy, his pops had gone and married another gold digger.

Grabbing the gas nozzle and jabbing it into the tank of his Hog, he quickly scanned the article on his phone. Yup. Married. For the ninth time, and at some damn drive-thru chapel in Vegas, no less. This just had win written all over it.

When the hell was the old man gonna learn you didn’t have to marry a chick to get her to sleep with you? Hawke sighed. Probably not before he bankrupted the family at this rate.

Hawke had been down in Mexico checking out some vintage Harleys for one of the family’s Reno shops and having a little R and R the past week. He’d turned his phone off, and he was now paying the price. Who the fuck met a chick and married her in less than a week?

The gas gurgled as he topped off his tank, and he shoved his phone back into the front pocket of his jeans so he could finish the routine of recapping and paying. When he’d settled back on the bike, he switched the ignition and throttled with a little more force than was necessary, enjoying the loud purr of the engine as it fired up and rumbled between his legs.

He was only about sixty miles from the house he’d bought for the family in the Hill Country near Austin last year, and he doubted his anger was going to settle down in such a short ride. Fuck it. Pulling back on the throttle, he let the huge beast roar as he took off like a man possessed down the winding roads out in the middle of Nowhere, Texas.

Hawke loved riding his bike, his blood singing with adrenaline. Being the oldest in an ever-growing clan of step-siblings—probably with a few more after this recent wedding—he’d always felt like he needed to be the responsible adult, the one who took care of the company and the family. But on his Hog, he rode hard and fast, the wind rushing against his body as he took each turn with just enough speed to be dangerous, but not enough to lose control.

If there was one thing he always was, it was in control. He couldn’t be a loose cannon like his father. Someone had to be responsible for the sake of the kids dragged into every unfortunate marriage his pops undertook.

He ground his teeth and throttled the engine just a bit more as he took the next deep curve.

The massive home was in front of him in no time, and he pulled the bike up short in front of the six-car garage. It wasn’t easy getting all of his stepbrothers and sisters in one place, so he’d wanted somewhere private with plenty of bedrooms where they could hang out when they were in town. His dad kept an office in the house, and that’s where Hawke was headed first.

After hanging his helmet on the peg in the garage, he rolled the Harley next to the old Ford truck he kept for hauling crap around. Then he went into his dad’s office. When his dad was in love—which felt like every Tuesday—he had a tendency to give the new woman of the month whatever she wanted.

If his old man had already modified his will…

The thought had him picking up speed as he walked through the ginormous kitchen, which was decked out like a villa in the south of France. At least, that’s what the designer who’d helped him with the house had said. Huge copper pots hung from racks over a massive butcher-block island with baskets of fresh tomatoes and onions in the center.

He liked to cook, had learned in order to care for his brothers and sisters. Too bad his pops hadn’t ever married a woman with the desire to actually enter a kitchen.

Hawke had spent the last six years of his life building the family’s company to include seven different Harley dealerships throughout Texas, Nevada, and South Dakota, as well as two custom shops where they overhauled Hogs and other bikes. His dad had controlling interest in the corporation, something that Hawke was determined to change.

He had to protect the family’s interests, and he couldn’t do that if his dad was going to give away everything they worked for to the next wife.

Trucking it down the long hallway and through the massive marble foyer, around the huge spiral staircase that dominated the entry, and past the formal dining room that hadn’t been used often enough, he finally made it to his dad’s office in the west wing of the house. He was sweating bullets now, and yanked his leather jacket off and tossed it on a chair as he passed.

It took him a bit to find the key to the locked drawer of his old man’s desk and about thirty seconds of guilt before he dug into the file drawer in search of the will.

Normally, he wouldn’t invade another man’s privacy, but the family fortune was at stake, and his dad couldn’t be trusted anymore. Hawke had to find a way to convince his pops to sell him the last few shares so he didn’t have to do this every time the old man decided to get hitched. Hawke was only thirty-two years old, but he was pretty sure this shit was going to give him a heart attack one of these days.

He read through the papers quickly. No changes yet.

Well, hell, there’s that.

He pulled out his cell and dialed Gray, the family lawyer and a friend since they were in high school.

He hasn’t called me—yet, Gray answered.

Thank Harley Davidson for that, Hawke said and settled into the desk chair, leaning his head back and closing his eyes in relief. So, I guess you saw the article?

Yep. You’ve got to talk to him about this. Every time he gets married, he puts the company in jeopardy.

Tell me something I don’t know. Cannon sold me his shares, and Sherilynn gave me hers for my birthday last month. How close am I? Hawke asked. His brothers and sisters didn’t have much interest in the family business, so they’d been helping him to gain control. His dad had doled out the shares evenly to his children and stepchildren several years ago but had retained enough personal interest to still cause a risk if he married the wrong woman again. His last ex had cost Hawke a small fortune to buy out when the marriage had eventually fizzled…five weeks after the ceremony.

You’re at about forty-two percent.

Not close enough.

If you’d get married, we could use the clause in the trust from your mother. Then you wouldn’t have to worry.

Hawke tossed the will on the desk. A picture of most of his stepsiblings sat on the desk in a leather frame. That one had been taken two of his dad’s marriages ago. I’m not fucking getting married. Never happening. My old man has done that enough for all of us. He rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

Just saying it would solve a lot of your problems.

There was a loud splash. He sat up straight, gaze scanning the hall beyond the office doorway. Who the hell was here? His family usually shot him a text if they were going to be in town.

Gotta let you go. Hawke didn’t wait for an answer before shutting down his phone and running for the back door.

There was a naked woman in his pool.

Could be worse.

He opened the French doors and stepped out. It occurred to him he shouldn’t stare, but she was fucking beautiful, and she was swimming naked in his pool.

Nice day for a swim, he said.

She squeaked and went under water, flailing her arms. He was about to jump in and save her when her head came back up.

Get out! Pervert. This is private property.

He quirked an eyebrow. Bat-shit crazy, anyone? Look, lady, I know it’s private property. I also know you don’t live here.

I live here, she said indignantly. Wait—I didn’t hear the alarm go off. Are you the handyman Mr. Vance said was coming by to fix the back door?

What was wrong with the back door? Mr. Vance… So, she knew his dad. Please, God. Don’t let this be the new wife. He’d thought the happy couple was on their honeymoon in Fiji. According to the article, at least.

Yes, he said before he really thought about her question. There was no handyman. He fixed things around the house.

He had to find out who she was and why she thought she lived in his house. He sincerely hoped she wasn’t delusional. He had enough crazy on his plate right now. Leaning against the doorframe, he idly rubbed the tattoo on his left bicep, with the phrase Everything has beauty hidden within an intricate design of swirls and shapes that formed a three-dimensional heart.

Oh thank God. I was worried you might be an ax murderer.

Axes are messy, he joked. She didn’t say anything. Sorry. Kidding. Are you all right in there?

I’d be better if you’d turn around or go away so I can get dressed, she said pertly.

He wasn’t so sure about leaving, especially since she believed she lived in his house. But she looked harmless enough.

I’ll be inside. He turned his back but paused. I still don’t know who you are, he said. I’m not really comfortable having a stranger in the house.

I’m not, she said. A stranger that is. I’m part of the family.

Right.

The glass in the door reflected her journey as she crawled up the pool steps. She was limping and her ankle was black and blue.

She was fucking hot. Red hair piled on top of her head. Pixie face devoid of makeup, and the pinkest little bow-shaped mouth he’d ever seen. He imagined that mouth around his—

Oh, fuck no. Not going there.

She was tiny, slim, and held herself like a queen looking down on her people. Impressive.

I’m Amy, she said. Thanks for turning around.

Her back was to him, so she had no idea he could see her in the glass.

You’re welcome. Hawke tried to look away. So, how are you related to Mr. Vance? He was more curious than ever.

"He married my mom. I’m a dancer and hurt my ankle. After the wedding, he gave me the key and told me I could hang out here. I’m doing some physical therapy here in