Be My Forever Bride. Martha Kennerson

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Be My Forever Bride - Martha Kennerson The Kingsleys of Texas

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thing, and I’ll be down the hall in the law library if you need me.”

      “Thanks and close the door behind you, please.” Brice only wished he could stay hidden in his office during Brooke’s short stay.

      * * *

      Brooke stood in front of Brice’s office door, pushed out a quick breath and raised her balled fist to knock—only she couldn’t do it. She was suddenly hit with the memory of the first time she’d met Brice in that very office nearly three years earlier.

      * * *

      She walked into the office to find the most handsome man she’d ever seen wearing an expensive-looking gray suit and wireless headphones while he stared at his computer. Brooke had never found herself at a loss for words, yet the man before her, with his light-colored skin, dark, curly hair and full, sexy lips, were wreaking havoc on her system. “Excuse me,” Brooke said, walking up to his desk and waving, trying to get his attention.

      Brice removed his headphones and quickly got to his feet. “May I help you?” His eyes roamed her body. Brooke fought the urge to look down to make sure her black pencil skirt, matching jacket and white blouse didn’t have a stain or something on it. She was extremely happy she’d worn her five-inch heels to raise her five-foot seven-inch frame because she just knew he had to be at least six-feet tall.

      Brooke looked up at the handsome man with a sparkle in his eyes and a smile on his lips, hoping her nervousness wasn’t showing. After all, this was her first major client for her new firm. “I apologize if I’m intruding. They sent me up from downstairs but no one’s out front. My name is Brooke Smith and I’m looking for Mr. Brice Kingsley.”

      “I’m Brice Kingsley,” he replied, smiling and showing off a beautiful set of white teeth.

      Brooke extended her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

      Brice gave it a small shake. “Likewise, but it’s six fifteen in the morning. Why are you here so early?”

      “I like to get started early while it’s still quiet. It’s usually the only time I can enjoy my jazz at full blast before others get in and I have to wear my headphones,” she explained.

      The corners of his mouth quirked up. “You like jazz?”

      Surprise was written all over his face. “I love it,” she assured him.

      “I do too. Please have a seat. Can I get you some coffee?”

      “Yes, cream and sugar, please,” Brooke replied, taking a seat in one of the large round chairs in front of his desk.

      Brice walked over to a small table next to his desk where a vintage coffee station had been set up. He poured her a cup, pulled a vanilla-flavored creamer from the desk drawer along with several packets of sugar. He handed her the cup and placed the cream, sugar and a stirrer straw in front of her.

      “Please.” He directed her attention to the condiments. “Help yourself.”

      “Thank you.” Brooke added the sugar and creamer to her coffee and took a sip. “Very good.”

      “You sound surprised.” His brows were standing at attention.

      “Honestly, I am.” Brooke smiled over her cup at the amused look on his face. “But I’m also impressed. A lot of men can’t make a good cup of coffee.”

      “You have to have the right mixture of water to bean,” Brice explained.

      “Now I’m really impressed,” she admitted. “Most men don’t know that.”

      Brice took a seat behind his desk. “I’m the one impressed. Your catch saved us millions of dollars. I still can't believe our former tax accountants had been using several incorrect forms and overlooking valuable deductions. I can’t imagine your bosses at the IRS are very happy with you.”

      “Not at all. They fired me.”

      “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, frowning.

      “Don’t be. If they hadn’t fired me, Victoria wouldn’t have convinced me to come work for her.”

      “But only as a consultant. I understand you wouldn’t come on board full-time.” He gave her a quizzical look.

      “No offense, but I want to be my own boss. I don’t want to be tied down to one company. Thankfully, your mother understood that and hired me anyway. Kingsley is my first client.”

      Brice raised his coffee cup. “Here’s to a long and fruitful relationship.”

      Brooke smiled and raised her cup. “Shall we get started?”

      * * *

      Brooke broke away from the past, pushed her shoulders back, raised her hand and knocked on the door. “Come in.”

       Chapter 3

      Brooke opened the door and walked into the office to find Brice seated behind his desk, signing several documents. “Did you forget something, Amy?”

      The sound of his voice sent waves of desire throughout her body, just like they had from the first moment they met. She’d missed it... She’d missed him. “It’s not Amy, Brice,” Brooke replied, closing the door behind her, knowing this conversation wasn’t for the public.

      Brice dropped his pen, raised his head and sat back in his seat. “Brooke,” he said, his face expressionless.

      “Do you have a moment for a quick chat?” She tried to project confidence when in reality she was a nervous wreck inside. Her heart was beating so fast she just knew the whole building could hear it.

      Brice tilted his head slightly to the right and his forehead crinkled. “You tell me after six months of what I thought was a wonderful marriage that you want out. I convince you to give us time to work things out, at least I thought I had, and go out for your favorite seafood only to come back to find that you’ve left me with a note.” He leaned forward slightly. “You disappear for three months, only communicating through your lawyer, and now you want to chat.” His tone was hard but even.

      “I... I—”

      “Sure, please, have a seat.” His words were laced with disdain and sarcasm.

      Brooke moved forward on unsteady legs, reaching for the support of a chair. She swallowed hard. “You make it sound so—”

      “So what? Honest? Is that not what happened?”

      “I didn’t want to fight. Not then and certainly not now,” she explained, trying to hold his angry glare.

      “What do you want, Brooke?” Brice asked, sitting back in his chair.

      “It’s simple. I’d like to get through these next several weeks as painlessly as possible. We’re both professionals with a job to do.”

      Brice sat up in his chair. “That we are.” He reached into

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