Accidentally Engaged_A Romance Collection Read online

  Accidentally Engaged

  A Romance Collection

  Nikki Chase

  Copyright © 2017 Nikki Chase

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is for mature readers. It contains sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some.

  All sexual activity in this work is consensual and all sexually active characters are 18 years of age or older.

  Contents

  Accidentally Engaged

  1. Nina

  2. Brock

  3. Nina

  4. Brock

  5. Nina

  6. Brock

  7. Nina

  8. Nina

  9. Brock

  10. Nina

  11. Brock

  12. Nina

  13. Brock

  14. Nina

  15. Brock

  16. Brock

  17. Nina

  18. Brock

  19. Nina

  20. Brock

  21. Nina

  22. Nina

  23. Brock

  24. Nina

  25. Brock

  26. Nina

  27. Brock

  28. Nina

  29. Brock

  30. Nina

  Epilogue

  Again

  Prologue

  1. Aubrey

  2. Aiden

  3. Aubrey

  4. Aubrey

  5. Aubrey

  6. Aiden

  7. Aubrey

  8. Aubrey

  9. Aiden

  10. Aubrey

  11. Aiden

  12. Aubrey

  13. Aubrey

  14. Aubrey

  15. Aubrey

  16. Aubrey

  17. Aiden

  18. Aubrey

  19. Aubrey

  20. Aubrey

  21. Aubrey

  22. Aiden

  23. Aubrey

  24. Aubrey

  25. Aubrey

  26. Aubrey

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  Stripped

  1. Jessica

  2. Jacob

  3. Jessica

  4. Jacob

  5. Jessica

  6. Jacob

  7. Jessica

  8. Jacob

  9. Jessica

  10. Jacob

  11. Jessica

  12. Jacob

  13. Jessica

  14. Jacob

  15. Jessica

  16. Jacob

  17. Jessica

  18. Jacob

  19. Jessica

  20. Jacob

  21. Jessica

  22. Jacob

  23. Jessica

  24. Jacob

  25. Jessica

  26. Jacob

  27. Jessica

  28. Jessica

  29. Jacob

  30. Jessica

  31. Jacob

  32. Jessica

  33. Jacob

  34. Jacob

  35. Jessica

  36. Jacob

  37. Jessica

  38. Jacob

  39. Jessica

  40. Jacob

  41. Jessica

  Epilogue

  Preview: Accidental Husband

  1. Tessa

  2. Luke

  3. Tessa

  4. Luke

  5. Tessa

  6. Luke

  About the Author

  Accidentally Engaged

  Nina

  I’m pretty sure he’s following me.

  Ever get that feeling? Like bugs crawling on your neck, or a tiny needles pricking you from the back? The urge to turn around and face whatever it is?

  I’m getting that right now, big time, and it’s stressing me the hell out.

  Today of all days, I don’t need to be stressed out.

  I glance down at my watch. Already five minutes late, and still two more blocks to walk in my new, nude pumps, which are pinching and scraping against my feet, by the way.

  I’ve got an interview at the InFini Headquarters. A big one. My first “real” job.

  Hopefully I’ll be able to hold it together in this interview. I’m really nervous, although I’ve been telling myself I just need to be myself, show them that I’m qualified for this job, and not do anything too embarrassing.

  But actually, before doing any of those things . . . I need to deal with my creepy, stalking ex.

  I quicken my pace and glance over my shoulder. Casually. Like I’m just checking the traffic or something.

  Yep, there he is.

  He’s trying to play it stealthy, like he’s in some movie or video game, but his attempts at blending in with the crowd are laughable. He sticks out like a sore thumb precisely because he’s trying to do the opposite. I’m talking dark sunglasses, hat pulled down over his eyes, ducking behind trees . . .

  God, Peter, give me a break.

  Pete’s my ex. Recent ex. And the breakup didn’t go well—or rather, I should say, it didn’t go well for him. I was the one who ended things between us, once I finally came to my senses and realized he was a humorless, controlling asshole, who was bad in bed, and even worse in social situations.

  Yeah, I don’t know why it took me so long, either. Eighteen months of my life lost to that man-child. Eighteen months I’m never getting back.

  How should I deal with him today?

  I could completely ignore him, pretend I didn’t see him. Maybe that would be for the best, because attention is exactly what he wants from me.

  But what if he follows me into the job interview and creates a scene? Not even nepotism will make that better, and Pete’s crazy enough to do it.

  Or I could try and lose him in the heavy lunchtime crowd . . . but there’s no guarantee I’ll be able to. Besides, that would mean taking a detour and I’m already running late.

  No. The best thing to do is confront him, tell him exactly how much of a childish, weirdo asshole he’s being, and hope he walks away . . . or gets hit by a bus. That would be handy.

  I slow my pace a little and stop outside a coffee shop. I peer in through the window, like I’m trying to see if someone I’m looking for is in there.

  All the while, I’m keeping track of Pete’s ghostly reflection on the glass. He’s still slinking through the crowd, thinking I haven’t noticed him.

  In his mind, he’s James Bond. In reality, think Austin Powers.

  He comes to a halt at a bus stop about fifteen yards from me, and that’s when I decide to make my move.

  I step away from the coffee shop and march toward him, a frown of disapproval firmly fixed on my face.

  He panics at first, his eyes flying wide open. Then, he seems to come to the realization that he can’t get away, and so plays at nonchalance, leaning against the bus stop post and pretending to check the timetable.

  I stand right in front of him where he can’t pretend not to see me, hands on hips. “Peter, what the hell are you doing?”

  He makes a show of looking really surprised—a really poor attempt at a show, but I guess he gets points for trying. “Nina? Wow, funny to run into you here. Small world, huh?”

  He looks me up and down and it makes my
skin crawl. What the hell did I ever see in this creep?

  “Really?” I ask. “I catch you red-handed, and you’re going to pretend like you were here anyway, taking the bus at lunch time?”

  He shrugs. “What’s so suspicious about that?”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. My head hurts. Taking a few deep breaths to calm myself down, I continue, “Pete, you would never be caught dead taking buses. ‘The domain of bums and crackheads’ is how I remember you describing them.”

  “Changed my mind.” He shrugs again.

  “Look, Pete, let’s be honest with each other here, okay? I know you’re following me. You damn well know you’re following me.” I follow his darting gaze until I successfully stare him right in the eye. “Can we not play stupid freaking games?”

  He opens his mouth like he wants to carry on with his pathetic excuses, but I cut him off.

  “Whatever you think you’re doing, just stop.” I hold up a hand. “It’s over, Pete. It’s never coming back. We’re done. We’re finished. Thanks and goodbye. Stop following me. Get a life.”

  I turn to walk away, but he grabs my arm. Hard. Probably hard enough to leave a bruise.

  “Don’t walk away from me, Nina,” he hisses, leaning in close. “We’re not done until I say we’re done.”

  Fighting my urge to shrink away from him, I make myself as big as possible (not easy when you’re 5’2” on a good day) and get right up in his face.

  “Listen to me, Pete.” My voice sounds much steadier than I feel inside. We’re in public so I can scream for help at any time, but after eighteen months of walking on eggshells around him, I have to constantly remind myself he holds no power over me unless I give it to him. “Take your hand off my arm. Turn around, and walk away. I don’t want to see you anymore. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want a damn thing to do with you. You get on with your life, and I’ll get on with mine.”

  “No, I don’t think I will,” he sneers. “I want some answers. Why did you leave without saying anything to me? Why do you feel like you need to get a job? I always told you I would take care of you, and I meant that. Eighteen months of my life I gave to you, and I think I deserve an explanation!”

  Pete’s what some women of a certain age would call “traditional.” I would use the term “chauvinistic asshole.” His idea of the perfect relationship is one where the woman stays at home, raises the babies, and has dinner ready by six when hubby comes home from work.

  And he doesn’t like to take “no” for an answer.

  “You do not deserve anything from me,” I tell him. “I wanted to leave, and I did. Let’s leave it at that before more feelings get hurt, yeah?”

  His face twists into an ugly, angry mask. “No other guy can offer you what I have. You’re making the biggest mistake of your life, and you’re too fucking stupid to realize it.”

  That’s it. That’s enough. I don’t have to stand here and have this ape paw at me.

  I wrench my arm from his in a sudden movement. “Get lost, Pete. And stop following me. If I see you again, my knee is going to end up buried in your crotch. Or I’ll call the cops and tell them you’re harassing me. You need to accept the fact that we’re over, and move on with your life.”

  Before he has the chance to say anything else, I’m striding away from him, feeling pretty good about myself.

  I spent too long not standing up for myself when it came to Pete, and it feels good to not take any more of his bullshit. I don’t even look back to see if he got the message.

  I’m now about fifteen minutes late and starting to get scared that if it takes me any longer, there won’t be a job waiting for me at InFini.

  Even though my brother, Dean, has arranged it for me and pretty much told me that I’m guaranteed to get it, I don’t want to make a bad impression.

  To make matters even more complicated, the interview is with Brock Turner.

  The same Brock Turner who’s my brother’s best friend.

  The same Brock Turner on whom I used to have the most embarrassing teen crush.

  And the same Brock Turner who has never even showed a hint of returning that interest.

  He was a few years older; I was an awkward, gangly teen. Well, it was awkward all around. Cringe-inducing, you could say, probably, if you were an observer of our interactions back then.

  It was a weird time in my life . . .

  Mom and Dad had died, really suddenly, in a car crash. I was only fifteen years old at the time, and it was like my whole world came crashing down around me.

  Dean was twenty, and he basically went from brother to parent overnight.

  I guess I was looking for someone to latch onto, and Brock was there. Tall, handsome (really freaking handsome), and kind of detached and aloof in that way that makes him seem intriguingly mysterious.

  We never had a conversation about “us” because there was no “us.” But he must’ve sensed my feelings because he distanced himself from me, letting me down gently and kindly.

  I was devastated for a while. My whole world was colorless.

  Once I went away to college a few years later, I sort of came to terms with the fact that I’d never see him again.

  But I will, today.

  I’ve changed a lot in the years since I’ve seen Brock, and I’m sure he has too.

  I really want to impress him in the interview.

  So I’m walking along—toward the InFini building and away from Pete—feeling good, and then I accidentally bump into someone.

  A guy, wearing what looks to be an expensive suit. He’s holding a takeaway coffee and it splashes all over him.

  A pristine, pressed white shirt, and now it’s covered in a big dark stain.

  I’m mortified, but I don’t have time to stop and apologize.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say without breaking my stride.

  I just need to get to this interview, get it done, and start this new chapter of my life.

  Brock

  Are you fucking serious?

  This is a new shirt, I’ve got a packed schedule, and now because some airhead can’t watch where she’s going, there’s a huge brown stain on the damn thing.

  Goddamn it, I’ve got a huge meeting with the board today, a ton of paperwork to catch up on, and the interview with Dean’s little sister too.

  That woman doesn’t think she has time to stop and apologize? I’m the one with a multi-million dollar deal on the line today.

  Just my luck to have a shitty start to one of the biggest days in my career.

  I stand there on the sidewalk, surrounded by the milling lunchtime crowd, and wipe at the coffee stain with a paper napkin I snatched from one of the busy food trucks nearby.

  Great. The stain is now smeared over an even larger area of my brand-new shirt. I’m just making it worse, and there’s no way at all I’m getting it off.

  Breathe, Brock. Take a breath, and cool yourself down. It’s just a shirt.

  I pull out my phone and check the time.

  Shit. I’m already twenty minutes late for the interview.

  Nina, my buddy Dean’s little sister, is probably sitting there outside the interview room, sweating buckets. I vaguely remember her from years back when she was living with Dean just after their parents died in that car crash.

  I used to go over there to hang out with Dean, and she was this awkward kid, maybe fifteen or so, and she had the hugest crush on me.

  Dean used to rib me about it, but I felt kind of bad for her. She was way too young for me, of course, but she was definitely pretty in her own way.

  We never talked about it or anything, but I tried to let her down gently. I avoided spending time alone with her, and I said things like, “You’re like the sister I never had,” any chance I got.

  And then she was gone, off to college.

  Dean and I have stayed friends even though he still lives in Seattle. Nina’s actually living here in Denver now, but I just learned about that from Dean recently.
>
  Both Dean and I have been so busy with work these days that I don’t get the chance to hang out with him that much anymore. So it was a surprise when he texted me a while back after hearing I was looking for a new assistant.

  Yeah, I’m getting an assistant—laugh all you want.

  I may be the Chief Communications Officer, but everybody knows I’m also Luke Alder’s go-to guy—a.k.a. assistant. So yes, the assistant is getting an assistant. It’s a challenging job, and I can’t juggle everything all by myself.

  Dean promised me Nina was qualified and motivated. And to be honest, I don’t have the time to vet candidates and all that shit. I just want someone to help me out.