"I can't believe you made me ask for photos of their abs!"

  Swat!

  "I'm sorry—-"

  Swat!

  "I really am—"

  SWAT!

  "Ouch!"

  SWAT! SWAT!

  "You made Heart's Match seem like a sex-for-hire agency!"

  SWAT! SWAT! SWAT!

  "I said I'm sorry—-"

  Charlotte focused all of her energies to give her sister-in-law one last swat, and Charlee-Mae's subsequent yelp was music to her ears.

  "Jesus, Char!"

  "You deserve it," she said without pity.

  Charlee-Mae rubbed her arm gingerly. "Are we okay now?"

  Charlotte's pursed her lips. "I'm not sure. Ask me tomorrow."

  Charlee-Mae rolled her eyes. For all of Charlotte's mature ways, one thing the other woman had not outgrown was her tendency to hold grudges.

  "Now..." Charlotte felt so much calmer now, having found the proper outlet for her annoyance. "Where were we?"

  "You were telling me about how perfect Mr. Red Folder is for me."

  Charlotte's gaze bore through her sister-in-law. "Seriously?"

  Charlee-Mae's expression turned innocent. "Did I remember wrong?"

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Anyway..." She pointed back to Mr. Blue Folder. "You should really reconsider, you know. This guy will make you a good husband—-"

  "But why should I settle for good," Charlee-Mae asked, "when I can have someone great? You know me better than that, Char. I've never been the type to play it safe." She tapped the red folder in emphasis, saying, "It has to be him or no one else. I can already tell this early there'll be fireworks between us," she enthused. "I can just feel—-"

  "That a temporary marriage is all he wants?" Charlotte cut in dryly. "Did you feel that, too? Because that's the first thing he told me on our first meeting." She was hoping this would be enough for her sister-in-law to change her mind, but instead Charlee-Mae only appeared intrigued.

  "Did he explain why?"

  "His recently-retired mother will only turn over her shares to him if he marries—-"

  Charlee-Mae brightened. "Then—-"

  "But his mother also happens to disapprove of the woman he does want to marry."

  Charlee-Mae refused to be discouraged. "Who's this woman trying to steal my man?"

  "Oh, for heaven's sake. He's not your man yet—-"

  "He will be," Charlee-Mae said with a flip of her hair. "So tell me. Who is it?" She saw Charlotte's expression turn sly, and Charlee-Mae knew right away something was up. "You think I won't be able to steal him away from her, don't you?"

  "You'll have a fight on your hands, yes."

  Charlee-Mae's gaze narrowed. "What does she have that I don't? Is she super famous or something?"

  "As far as I know, no."

  Charlee-Mae suddenly looked fearful. "Is she super smart?"

  Charlotte couldn't help laughing despite everything. "No, Cha-Cha. As far as I know, the other party isn't super smart."

  "Then...is she his first love? His forbidden love? His—-"

  "Possibly all of the above."

  Charlee-Mae shot up in her seat. "Seriously?"

  "Having second thoughts now?"

  Charlee-Mae looked at her sister-in-law oddly. "Why should I? On the contrary, this is just going to make things more exci—-"

  "It's his sister-in-law."

  "Holy motherfucking cow!"

  Charlotte couldn't help but wince. "Cha-Cha."

  "Sorry." Charlee-Mae was quick to apologize, having forgotten how prim and proper her sister-in-law could be. And speaking of sisters-in-law...

  "How exactly are they related? Was he married before—-"

  "No. Not like that. She was his late older brother's wife."

  Charlee-Mae's brows arched up. "Wow."

  "The brother died seven years ago—-"

  "Did they hook up right after his death?"

  "I have no idea how long they've been together, but he did mention she's now his mistress."

  "Mistress, huh?" That was quite the label for one's sister-in-law. "And not girlfriend?"

  "His words, not mine."

  "Oh my."

  Charlotte had been hoping Charlee-Mae would finally see the light about Mr. Red Folder, but instead the other woman actually sounded thrilled, and her amber eyes were actually sparkling with excitement.

  "I can't believe how perfect this all is, Char!"

  Charlotte wondered if it was too late to back out of her secret deal with heaven. She wanted to have Landon back, even in just her dreams, but was it worth risking Charlee-Mae's heartbreak? Her future mail-order groom did not see their marriage as a permanent thing.

  "This is exactly what I was hoping for!"

  And yet here Charlee-Mae was, acting like the hundreds of letters she had dropped in the prayer request box had finally been answered.

  "There's just so much baggage, so much drama!"

  Indeed, there was all of those, so why was Charlee-Mae speaking of these things like they were stuff that romantic dreams were made of?

  "I love it, Char," Charlee-Mae said dreamily. "I absolutely love it." She beamed at Charlotte, adding, "You know I'm a huge fan of Dynasty, right?"

  "Uh..." Wasn't that a soap from decades ago?

  Charlee-Mae gave her a solemn look. "And the greatest lesson it's taught me is that every grand romance needs a grand obstacle—-"

  "What about a grand heartbreak?" Charlotte broke in. "Because another thing he told me was that he intends to keep seeing his sister-in-law-slash-mistress even while he's married."

  "He only thinks that's what he wants right now," Charlee-Mae said breezily, "but I'll make sure to change his mind."

  "He wants it in writing, Cha-Cha."

  "I'll sign whatever he wants, it's fine. Things always work out best for me when I just follow my heart and let God take over—-"

  Charlotte groaned. "Please stop making it sound like your crazy plans are God's plans."

  "I'll stop," Charlee-Mae bargained, "if you promise to stop worrying."

  "I can't help it," Charlotte grumbled, "since you're not worrying enough."

  "It's going to be fine, Char. Really."

  Charlotte was badly tempted to give the other woman a hard shake at this point. "I know I can't stop you from getting yourself a mail-order groom at this point, but are you at least absolutely sure it has to be him?"

  "With all my heart."

  "He'll want to know why you agreed to this type of arrangement," Charlotte warned.

  "Then..." Inspiration struck, and Charlee-Mae's eyes sparkled with excitement. "You can tell him that in my line of work, being married to a man like him will be tremendously helpful. That should keep him from suspecting me of any ulterior motives," Charlee-Mae said impishly. "By the time he realizes I'm up to something, it will be too late, and I'd have stolen his heart for good."

  Although Charlotte made a few more attempts to change her mind, Charlee-Mae was not to be dissuaded, and instead badgered the other woman to expedite the paperwork. In just five days, the final draft of her mail-order-marriage contract was approved, and another week after that, Charlee-Mae, with a lovely diamond ring on her finger, went on to board a plane as a newly-married woman.

  The plan was for Charlee-Mae to meet her bridegroom at a luxurious resort-style theme park, but as soon as a limousine picked her up from Jackson Hole's airport, what Charlee-Mae met instead was a near-fatal accident.

  Chapter Two

  All of the nurses at Stanhope Medical Center's surgical department started nudging each other behind the counter as soon as the elevator doors opened, and out came a tall, dazzlingly handsome man with dark blond hair and jade-green eyes.

  He had 'billionaire' written all over him, but at the same time, there was also something intensely sexual about the newcomer's presence. It was almost primitive even, and when the nurses thought about how such a man was now married to their beloved Cha-Cha...

  Philippe masked his puzzlement as the nurses at the station followed his every move with unusual interest. While he was no stranger to attention, neither was he some world-famous athlete or celebrity. His name was only familiar to those who followed society gossip and business news, and since he strongly doubted the nurses here fell in either category, Philippe could only surmise that all of these stares had to do with one Charlee-Mae Carmichaels.

  Who knew a former beauty queen with a YouTube channel could be this popular?

  The nurses nearly swooned when the man finally came up to their counter in order to ask for the room number of his wife, and it was then they found out that Cha-Cha's impossibly gorgeous husband also happened to possess the sexiest French accent.

  "Ms. Carmichaels—-I mean, Mrs. DeRose—-" Head Nurse Jennifer, who was usually teased for being schoolmarmish, was flustered to find herself stumbling over her words. "Your, um, wife, sir, is in Room 1408, the last door on the left."

  "Thank you." As soon as Philippe turned away, he was disconcerted to hear some of the nurses actually squeal, but in the next moment he had dismissed the incident from his mind, having never been interested in gaining fame.

  Right now, there were a lot more pressing concerns that deserved his attention, foremost of which was the woman Philippe had come to visit...and whom he still had trouble thinking of as his "wife".

  Although both of them moved in the same social circles, their paths had never crossed before this, and her name hadn't rung a bell when he saw it on their wedding documents.

  He could have looked her up at any point in time after that, but he never had. As far as Philippe was concerned, theirs was a business arrangement, and as long as his thirty-something bride from Texas wasn't entirely hideous to look at, her appearance was inconsequential.

  All he had asked of Charlotte was that his temporary bride be the kind of woman his mother was most likely to approve of, and now that he was finally seeing his new "wife" in person—-

  What the hell had he gotten himself into?

  The woman in bed looked like someone who had jumped out of a fifties pinup, and try as he might, he could not see why the supposedly intuitive CEO of Heart's Match, whom Fleur de Konigh had sung praises of, would think that a woman with such overt sensuality could be an ideal daughter-in-law for his ultra-conservative mother.

  Charlee-Mae started to stir as he crossed the room, and by the time Philippe came to stand next to her bed, his "wife" was already wide awake and watching him with amber-colored eyes filled with undisguised curiosity.

  She pushed herself up gingerly, and he automatically reached down to help her even as he expected her to shrink from his touch.

  But she didn't.

  And it was how Philippe's disconcertment deepened into acute discomfort, with the way Charlee-Mae proved completely unresisting to his assistance. The way her amber eyes gobbled him up made him feel strangely restless, and as he adjusted the mountain of pillows behind her back, his fingers accidentally brushed over the back of her neck—-

  Putain.

  Her warm, satin-smooth skin almost felt sinful to touch, and he had a sudden and almost violent need to place as much distance as possible between them. It was as if a part of him recognized in her a destructive force that had the power to turn his entire world upside-down, and only pride alone kept him from getting the fuck out of her room.

  Philippe gritted his teeth as he forced himself to move back at a careful and unhurried pace, all the while feeling Charlee-Mae continue to eat him up with unabashed curiosity. Fair's fair, Philippe thought, and so as soon as his dark gaze collided with hers, he indulged himself with his own scrutiny of her appearance.

  Her long blonde locks were a wild, curly mess around her heart-shaped face, and aside from the layers of bandages wrapped around her head, another visible sign of her injury was the multitude of small but vividly red gashes that marred her from head to toe. None of these things, however, was enough to detract from the kittenish appeal of her looks...which Philippe was disturbed to find himself powerfully attracted to.

  Merde.

  "Hello."

  Her voice was...sweet. It was the only word he could think of. Not thick, dark, and heavy like syrup, but more sweet like honey, which was as wholesome as it was addictive. A woman's voice was something he had never paid attention to, so why then, Philippe wondered irritably, was her voice suddenly different? Why did hers sound so fuckable, even when all she had said was a simple bloody hello?

  He could see that she was waiting for him to answer, and while the thought of engaging in small talk struck him as distastefully artificial, years of etiquette training were impossible to ignore. But just as he was about to force himself to say 'hello' in return, it was then Philippe noticed her wide-eyed gaze flicking back and forth between their hands.

  It took him a moment to realize she was comparing their wedding rings, and since she was the one who had chosen its design in the first place—-

  "Is there a problem?" he asked politely. She would not be the first woman to have fickle taste in jewelry, and in some cases, it only turned out to be a woman's ploy to gain herself more jewelry.

  His question appeared to make her nervous for some reason, and when he noticed the way her chest started to swiftly rise and fall under her hospital gown, Philippe just as swiftly tried to forget what he had seen.

  His new "wife" - Mon Dieu, would he ever get used to calling her that? - might have the breasts of a blonde bombshell, but now was also the least appropriate time to indulge in such thoughts.

  "I know this is going to sound silly—-"

  Philippe frowned at the way her fingers started interlocking and unlocking over her lap.

  "But I just want to be sure—-"

  "Qu'est-ce que c'est?" What is it?

  "Are you my husband?"

  Fifteen minutes later, and Philippe had his worst fears confirmed in the private office of Dr. Konstantin Manolis. He had known the other man for years, and it was in light of his friendship with the Greek neurosurgeon that Philippe wasn't even thinking of getting a second opinion.

  If Konstantin believed Charlee-Mae suffered from amnesia, then that was what it was, but what he did have a hard time accepting was what his new "wife" had no memories of.

  "The E.R. had to sedate her when she first came in," Konstantin relayed, "since she started panicking and insisting that they had it wrong, and she wasn't married."

  "I see."

  "I took charge of her case when I found out she was your wife. We spoke briefly earlier, and from what I can tell, there is nothing your wife can recall from the past two weeks."

  And now, Philippe did see why his new "wife" had forgotten him, since it was also only two weeks ago that they had become a part of each other's lives, contractually speaking.

  "For now, my only advice is to make sure she has lots of rest. While it's not necessary, it's best to keep her here until we at least get the stitches out. It's always better to err on the side of caution with head wounds like hers."

  "I'll defer to your expertise then." An image of Charlee-Mae suddenly intruded in his mind, and Philippe found himself trying to imagine what it would be like to wake up with two weeks of his life suddenly missing. It would be hell for someone like him, and the realization made him feel...concerned.

  And that was normal, Philippe told himself. His conscience wasn't completely dead, and for as long as she was his "wife", he also had a duty to take care of her.

  Looking back at Konstantin, he asked, "Is there anything else I can do to make things easier for her?"

  "Don't let anything upset her," was his friend's blunt reply. "Situations like this are extremely tricky, and it's imperative that your wife refrains from forcing herself to recall her memories. Placing herself under unnecessary mental stress will only make things worse."

  The nurses still on duty started elbowing each other again when they saw the Frenchman and the broodingly handsome Dr. Manolis step out of the latter's office.

  Thanks to their resident Google expert Nurse Mindy, they now knew that Philippe DeRose, aside from being the billionaire they had correctly assumed him to be, also possessed the reputation of a tough negotiator in the boardroom and a jet-setting playboy outside it.

  But because they also knew from Cha-Cha's vlogs that their favorite former beauty was silly and kind-hearted, carefree and incredibly down-to-earth in spite of her privileged upbringing—-

  No two persons could be any more different than Cha-Cha and her husband, and it became even harder to imagine how the couple had fallen in love when the nurses overheard Dr. Manolis and the French billionaire conversing entirely in French.

  Oh dear.

  Most of the nurses started giggling, all of them having recalled Cha-Cha's vlog about her first visit to Paris...and how she had consequently succeeded in murdering the names of several French fashion houses. She had pronounced Hermes with a not-silent H, spoke of Balmain like it rhymed with Maine, and as she ended her vlog with a tour of her hotel suite, she had showcased the toiletries provided by L'Occitane, which Cha-Cha had mistaken as another brand that included a long 'a' in its pronunciation.

  The nurses were still giggling among themselves as both men entered the elevator, but as soon as the doors closed, and the two were finally out of everyone's earshot—-

  Konstantin raised a brow at his friend. "I seem to recall I had this friend in college who gave the cold shoulder to any girl who was unable to pronounce Lanvin correctly."

  "I can't help it if their attempts at speaking French hurt my ears," Philippe answered without missing a beat, "but obviously, Charlee-Mae is the sole exception."

  Konstantin smirked. "Is that the latest euphemism for being in love?"

  "It is now." While Philippe trusted his friend implicitly, he also preferred to minimize his risks. The fewer people who knew about the true state of his marriage, the less likely his mother was to find out about Philippe's plans.

  Since Charlee-Mae was still in session with the hospital's trauma specialist, Philippe agreed to have coffee with Konstantin and his wife, a shy brunette who apparently was yet another fan of his wife.

 

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