Betting On Love

By L.M. Connolly

Garrett Rocquelaire needs a wife. Fast. The woman he catches card-counting in his Las Vegas casino will do.

Bonnie Miller can foretell the future, but only five minutes before it happens. The first time she tries to use her gift on the blackjack tables she's caught by the most gorgeous man she's ever met. Being made to marry him won't be a hardship.

Until somebody tries to kill her.

It's up to Garrett to find out who is targeting her. Then he can move on, except for one thing.

The way they burn up the night together.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LMC Publications
• Release date: May 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393233695

L.M. Connolly

L.M. Connolly writes steamy, exciting contemporary and paranormal romances. The best-selling writer of the STORM, Department 57, Pure Wildfire, and Nightstar series, she lives and breathes her characters. She lives in the UK, but travels to the US once a year, to enjoy the high life! Her books have gained her a number of awards and five star reviews, and she's also a best-selling author. Her life experiences add colour and veracity to the stories she tells, and she is always finding more! As Lynne Connolly, L.M. also writes historical romances.

Book preview

Garrett Rocquelaire needs a wife. Fast. The woman he catches card-counting in his Las Vegas casino will do.

Bonnie Miller can foretell the future, but only five minutes before it happens. The first time she tries to use her gift on the blackjack tables she’s caught by the most gorgeous man she’s ever met. Being made to marry him won’t be a hardship. Or would it?

Until somebody tries to kill her.

He knows people who can help Bonnie handle her psychic gift, but it’s up to Garrett to find out who is targeting her. Then he can move on, except for one thing.

The way they burn up the night together.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Betting On Love

Copyright © 2020 by Lynne Connolly

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews

Chapter 1 

Garrett Rocquelaire turned away from the view from his office window and left the Las Vegas Strip to itself when his PA came in. Jane was the best PA Garrett had ever had, but that wasn’t saying a great deal, since for the last ten years he’d been with Delta Force, and they didn’t exactly require him to have a PA. Garrett had found his last assistant draped across his desk, naked. She was out the door an hour after that. He didn’t even have a clue if Jane was gay or straight, and he cared even less.

He’d just had a bruising meeting with his fiancée. Shock didn’t begin to describe his response to her off-the-wall demands.

With a sigh he picked up a page of his prenup where Georgia had made her demands. Halfway down the list, he leaned back and gave Jane an incredulous glare. She’s not serious.

As serious as taxes, Jane assured him.

Garrett wasn’t looking forward to his upcoming marriage to media star Georgia G, but so far the arrangements had gone well. Georgia rarely went anywhere without cameras, and when she didn’t have those she was taking selfies with her diamond-encrusted phone. Real diamonds, apparently, presented to her by the phone company because they brought her so much business. Having people with cameras follow him every time he stepped out of his office door had made him antsy. Sure, the attention was good for business, which was the point of the exercise, but the experience might give him a breakdown. He’d nearly punched some kid getting in his face yesterday. They didn’t even make proper journalists these days, the kind he was used to. Once people spotted Georgia, everybody got out their cameras.

He liked Georgia, at least the glimpses of the woman he got under the hard, glossy exterior, but he couldn’t spend the rest of his life fighting his way through to that part. No, the marriage would serve its purpose and then they’d end it.

He took another look at the paper. So I have to spend three years racing around the globe to please my wife?

You signed the contract. Jane gave him a blank stare.

How had this happened? Garrett had read the contract through, and so had his lawyers. None of them had pointed out the impossible clauses. Had they missed a page, somehow? The detailed demands were in an appendix, but they’d looked at them.

He had. He’d promised Georgia thirty days a year, guaranteed, when he’d dance attendance on her. But she’d taken it literally. She’d listed thirty separate days, days when he’d have to fly in from wherever he was, allow himself to be primped and poked for whatever premiere or photo op Georgia wanted, and then fly out again. The days were separate, scattered over the year, which turned his schedule impossible. How could he return to the Black Agency and work on covert, dangerous projects if he was expected to dance attendance on Georgia? So next February, she expects me to hi-tail my way back from wherever I am, gussy myself up and go to an award ceremony? Why is Georgia going there? She’s not an actress.

Jane shrugged. Because it’s there, and because she’s invited.

What’s the Silver Mascara Wand Ball?

A makeup celebration.

What use would he be at a makeup gala? Who knew such a thing existed? Georgia wants me to attend all these?

He’d only taken this assignment because his family assured him it was a temporary thing. Just until the casino renovations were complete and the security system firmly in place. But this would extend his place here to unacceptable levels. The marriage to Georgia was supposed to be a convenient way to get some quick publicity, not a full-time thing. Get me out of this. I can’t do it.

You signed a contract.

I want out. The refurbishment of the Rocque Casino had taken everything he had. He checked the list again, as if it would magically change. Nails? There’s a world championship for nails?

Yep.

He suspected Jane of grinning, but he didn’t spot anything when he caught his PA’s gaze. But he’d heard it in that single, laconic word. She wants a puppy, not a husband.

A rich, handsome puppy. There, the grin was back and Jane didn’t try to hide it.

You know I can’t do this. Sit down and tell me how I can get out of this. He’d walked away from the family resort business once before. He’d gladly do it again.

Jane obligingly took a seat. It doesn’t matter what you do, who you work for. You’re bound by this.

This whole thing was becoming a nightmare. He’d only agreed to come back to the company on a temporary basis. A year hitched to a media star would pay all his debts to his family and give the company the prestige it needed while it weathered this drastic change.

Why had he ever suggested refurbishment to his parents? He should have let the whole damned thing die a slow death. They didn’t need the money, he certainly didn’t give a damn. He’d lived quite happily on his army salary for five years. Long enough to make all this seem a bit foolish. But he refused to appear in public at a nail convention. Georgia had left him no time for work. This prenup was nothing short of demented.

Get the lawyer.

The short break while Jane called down to his lawyer didn’t do anything to abate Garrett’s temper. Since she’d winced at his last use of his favorite curse word, he let her leave the room. Without the word fuck the army would be mute. She’d have to get used to it, that was all.

The company lawyer looked over the contract.

I used specialists for this, Garrett told him, but they’ve let me down.

The lawyer, Charles Sumpter, sighed. You initialed the page. You signed this. It’s legally binding. Even if somebody slipped in the extra appendix, you signed it.

Garrett sighed.

There is one way to get out of this, Charles said slowly.

Garrett leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table. Tell me.

The contract is watertight except for one thing. There was no trace of a smile in Jane’s face now. At the end it says that this contract holds and supersedes all others unless there is a legal impediment that will render the agreement illegal. It’s legal-speak but there’s your loophole.

Garrett frowned. And?

Charles returned Garrett’s smile with a wry one of his own. If you’re married to somebody else, you can’t marry Georgia. That’s your legal impediment.

Sucking in a harsh breath, Garrett shifted in his chair, the leather seat creaking in protest. He glanced at the picture of Georgia on his desk. Flamboyantly blonde, with her sweet pixie chin and impossible breasts and butt. Still, the woman had to earn a living. He didn’t hold that against her, just the assumption that he’d spend the next three years dancing to her tune.

A plan revolved in his mind. Used as he was to making instant decisions, he made one now. Find me somebody. Discreetly. Someone who will marry me for a sum of money and demand nothing else. Draw up a draft contract.

Charles nodded. Don’t forget, you have to stay married to this new candidate for the length of this contract. If you divorce your bride, the previous contract comes into force. And on a personal note, whether you like it or not, Georgia’s fans are your target audience for Las Vegas. Young people with money. Do not publicly humiliate her by letting people know you bought your bride to get away from her. The only thing she will be able to explain away is a love affair.

So I’m fawning over a woman in public. He got up and paced the carpet.

Charles raised a dark brow. Just treat her like a husband usually treats his wife. With respect and love.

Garrett sent him a snarling glare. I’ll have to watch some romantic movies. I’m going to the security center. He had to get out of this room. His office, huge though it was, stifled him. He had to give himself some space.

A few minutes later Garrett walked into the security center of the casino and nodded to Murray Wilson, one of his core team. Murray had followed him out of Delta Force, retiring after an op that had nearly cost them their lives. He was a friend and one of the few people Garrett would trust with his life.

Murray’s dark eyes gleamed as he turned back to the bank of monitors. This is a great set-up.

Garrett scanned the screens, which showed the casino from a variety of angles and positions. The tables and slots were gratifyingly full. People were enjoying themselves.

His attention was drawn to a table of women. They were wearing cheap tiaras and sashes, that said Bride and Bachelorette. He winced, reminded of his own problem.

He focused on the group of women on the screen. They were laughing and joking, all but one sat apart from the others. Her long, straight mahogany locks were brushed back from her face and ruthlessly tied back, but that only emphasized her singular beauty. The white shirt she wore over her pink T-shirt showed signs of wear, crumpled at the elbows and not quite sitting properly on her shoulders. The security cameras were so good he could see the way golden honey tones blended in with the brown of her hair. He could almost feel the silky strands of that long ponytail running through his fingers.

She looked up. Although she shouldn’t be able to see him, their eyes connected. She looked away again almost immediately, but it was like seeing a kingfisher flash across a stream. So natural, like a breath of fresh air darting across his world.

Swallowing, he looked closer. She was lovely, sure, but something else crept into him and under his skin. He wanted to know more about her. He wanted to touch that soft skin, trail his finger down from her shoulder to her hand, and then claim it for his own, a sensation so powerful that he lifted his hand to reach out to her.

Garrett had never, ever, had that kind of instant response to a woman. Lust, sure he did, he knew a lot of gorgeous women, but not that instant sense of claiming.

He’d gone without sex for too long. That had to be the reason. The pressure of turning the casino around and the recent contract he’d entered into had put his love life on hold. He was going stir crazy.

He narrowed his eyes but it took him a couple of minutes to confirm what he was seeing. He drew a breath. That woman is card-counting.

You’re right. Murray said after a minute.

Bring her to me, he snapped, galvanized into action. Murray, I’ll use your office. Georgia’s still in mine. Take the woman’s passport and work up a dossier on her. I want it fast, while she’s still with me. Clear?

People jumped to do his bidding as they strode from the room, but nobody in the casino would be aware that anything was happening.

Garrett felt newly energized.

AFTER AN HOUR AT THE blackjack table of the Rocque, Las Vegas, Bonnie Miller’s pile of chips had increased considerably. Smiling, she nodded to the dealer for another card. The air around her hummed with approval of her decision. A few people watched, but nobody took much notice.

She’d come here with the five other girls from the wedding party she was here to celebrate. They’d flown over from London a few days ago. They were laughing and urging her on. For the first time she could remember, Bonnie felt part of the group, instead of set apart from it. So far this was the high spot of her trip.

She leaned forward, laughing, as the dealer pushed more chips her way.

Screams, and flashes from phones drew everyone’s attention. A petite woman with curves so exaggerated they didn’t look real had strolled along the vast floor of the casino toward the exit. Two men flanked her, obviously bodyguards, from their massive build and the way they tracked her movements. From the awed expression on the faces of people around her, Bonnie guessed should know the woman’s identity, but she didn’t have a clue. Who’s that?

Francine shot her an incredulous glance. Haven’t you heard of Georgia G?

Bonnie frowned. Vaguely. The name rang a distant bell in her mind. Is she a pop star?

No, she’s—she’s Georgia G.

Ah. That explained precisely nothing.

Look at that contouring, Francine breathed.

I’m putting my picture on MediaHype, Susie said, phone in hand. She’s marrying the owner of the Rocque, Garrett Rocquelaire. He’s sex on a stick, but then, so is she.

Neither name rang any bells for Bonnie, but she’d smiled and watched the beauty’s progress.

A man’s voice rumbled behind her. Pardon me, ma’am, I need you to come with me.

A huge African-American man in a black lounge suit waited, no expression in his dark eyes, his big hands clasped before him. He was definitely some kind of security person.

Maybe he wanted to escort Bonnie to the cash desk. She started gathering the chips, but the man put his hand over the pile. Leave them.

Okay, but I have one thousand, eight hundred and fifty dollars in chips. I’ve counted. She glanced at Francine. Will you take care of them for me?

Francine smirked. Sure. The girls did that giggling thing, when they put their heads together and laughed. Bonnie peeled her bachelorette sash off and handed it to Susie, the bride.

Give her a voucher, the man rumbled to the dealer. After one surprised glance at him, the dealer did so, printing out the flimsy