Love and Trust Read online

  Contents

  Cover Page

  Copyright

  Books by Jean Oram

  Muskoka

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Awesome Author Newsletter

  The Summer Sisters

  Invitation to Become a Jeanster

  About the Author

  Book Club Discussion Guide

  What's Next?

  Love and Trust

  ~ A Beach Reads Billionaire Bachelor Contemporary Romance ~

  The Summer Sisters Tame the Billioniares Book 3

  By New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jean Oram

  One lawyer looking to stop a development. One ex-developer shunning his old way of life. Two worlds about to collide.

  Melanie Summer has always felt slightly out-of-place. She can’t find a date to save her life, she has a thing for heritage and old stories, and never seems to make a difference in the lives of others despite being a lawyer. But when a developer threatens everything she loves about her beloved Muskoka—from its heritage to her childhood summer camp—she knows she's the woman to stop them. The only problem is that the lynchpin for her case—the reclusive Tristen Bell—won't talk to her.

  Two years ago, cut-throat developer Tristen Bell’s drive to win hurt the ones he loves most and he lost everything but the one thing that never mattered—his billion-dollar nest egg. Now divorced and living in Muskoka, he’s shunning everything related to his old world. But when his teenage daughter walks back into his life only to be injured by a developer’s negligence he knows he has to do something, and the irresistible Melanie Summer has just the plan. He knows he could shut down his old competitor in a heartbeat…but only if he dons his old way of life.

  Will Melanie be able to stop the developer on her own? Or will Tristen find a way to trust his gut as well as his old self in order to save the day? And most of all, will they both get a second chance at love?

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  Love and Trust

  A Beach Reads Billionaire Bachelor Contemporary Romance

  The Summer Sisters Tame the Billionaires (Book 3)

  By Jean Oram

  Copyright 2015 Jean Oram

  ISBN: 978-1-928198-03-1

  First Smashwords Book Club Edition

  Contact Jean Oram by email at [email protected]

  Thank you for downloading this ebook. Although in electronic form, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and it cannot be reproduced, modified, copied and/or distributed by any means for commercial or non-commercial purposes whether the work is attributed or not, unless written permission has been granted by the author, with the exception of brief quotations for use in a review of this work. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite online vendor where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support. Keep reading!

  This is a work of fiction and all characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents appearing in this novel are products of the author’s active imagination or are used in a fictitious manner—unless stated in the book’s front matter. Any resemblance to actual people, alive or dead, as well as any resemblance to events or locales is coincidental (unless noted) and, truly, a little bit cool.

  Cover created by Jean Oram

  Books by New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Jean Oram

  The Summer Sisters Tame the Billionaires

  Love and Rumors (Book 1)

  Love and Dreams (Book 2)

  Love and Trust (Book 3)

  Love and Danger (Book 4)

  Audiobooks

  Love and Rumors—coming Spring 2015!

  The Blueberry Springs series

  *Champagne and Lemon Drops (Book 1)

  Whiskey and Gumdrops (Book 2)

  Rum and Raindrops (Book 3)

  Eggnog and Candy Canes (Book 4)

  **Sweet Treats (Book 5)

  Vodka and Chocolate Drops (Book 6: Coming Summer 2015)

  Audiobooks

  *GOT THE EBOOK of Champagne and Lemon Drops? Get the audiobook (narrated by Cris Dukehart) and listen along as Blueberry Springs comes alive! Click here.

  **Want the latest news and the book Sweet Treats for FREE? Sign up for my free newsletter at www.jeanoram.com/FREEBOOK

  A Note on Muskoka

  Muskoka is a real place in Ontario, Canada, however, I have taken artistic license with the area. While the issues presented in this series (such as water shed, endangered animals, heritage preservation, shoreline erosion, taxation, etc.) as well as the towns are real, to my knowledge, there is no Baby Horseshoe Island nor is there a Nymph Island, or even a company called Rubicore Developments. The people and businesses are fictional unless otherwise noted.

  Muskoka is a wonderful area where movie stars, celebrities, billionaires, and regular Joes do vacation. Yet, having spent many summers in the area during my youth and adulthood (me being a regular Joe), I have yet to see a single celebrity—though a man I presume to be Kurt Browning’s (a famous Canadian figure skating Olympian) father did offer to help me when the outboard fritzed out on me once. Damn outboard.

  You can discover more about Muskoka online at www.discovermuskoka.ca/

  CHAPTER 1

  Melanie slammed the door to the Super Duty Ford pickup and swore under her breath as the machine sent gravel flying across the Steel Barrel’s parking lot. She waved away the dust, the sun’s heat prickling her bare arms. Not only was she was stuck outside a biker bar in the middle of nowhere, but she was wearing a 1950s-style halter dress that placed her cleavage on display, and she’d left her purse on the passenger seat of her date’s truck.

  Easy pickings.

  She turned to the retreating truck, giving her now former date, Stedman, the finger.

  This was the last time she would allow her sister Maya to badger her into getting out of her comfy oversized T-shirts and into the dating world. Not that she’d put up much of a fight, seeing as the two eldest Summer sisters had fallen in love last month, and everyone had agreed that it was now Melanie’s turn to do the same.

  She trudged across the gravel lot in her kitten mules. Were they kittens and mules? How did that work? Oh, who cared? She was never wearing the shoes again, seeing as the experiment of reinventing herself had failed miserably. Stedman had made assumptions based on her appearance. Namely, that she wouldn’t argue with him—even though he knew she was a lawyer. Fat chance on that one, buddy. That, and have sex with him behind the abandoned roadside motel next door. As soon as she got home she was tossing off this getup and climbing straight into her old wardrobe of jeans and big, comfy T-shirts.

  Her sisters could call it hiding, but it didn’t attract jerks who left her outside biker bars with no way home. If she wanted passion she could find it in a sex shop, along with a package of AA batteries.

  The Steel Barrel, like many places along Ontario’s backwoods highways, was a fading, falling down establishment, although this one was rumored to be a gathering spot for the local chapter of the Hells Angels. A closed gas station stood on the far side of the bar, growing weeds, with scrap metal piled high behind it.

  No phone booth. No purse or cell phone, because Stedman had spun off so fast Melanie hadn’t fully realized what was hap
pening.

  She was a lawyer. Supposed to be intelligent and savvy. But apparently she wasn’t that street smart when it came to men. If she’d had more than five dates in the past…oh goodness, she didn’t want to try and count how many years it might be…she probably would have seen this coming.

  It was the last time she’d try online dating.

  Why was she spending time chasing men, anyway? She should be at the office, trying to catch up on the mounds of paperwork avalanching off her desk. Besides, if destiny actually existed and did have her, the third Summer sister, in its sights to take the next fall, then destiny could get off its butt and come find her. Preferably, with a man in tow.

  Melanie glanced at the bar one last time, then scooted by an ancient, sun-bleached Ford with a flat tire. Only two hogs in the parking lot. That should make it less scary inside, right? She carefully crept up the rotting wood steps and braced herself to peek into the suspiciously quiet tavern. Shouldn’t there be music blaring and people being tossed through the grimy windows? She checked the sun, which was still fairly high in the sky. Maybe it was too early?

  Hoping for air-conditioning, she daintily pushed through the saloon-style door. Nope, not a chance. The only coolish breeze to touch her skin was from the door swinging back to slap her on the rear.

  To the right was a pool table with green felt worn down to its backing. Small tables crowded the rest of the room. Melanie tried to walk naturally, even though all eyes had turned to her, watching her every move. One bartender, two scary bikers, and a guy in a ball cap who appeared to be none of the above.

  Keeping her eyes straight ahead, she took a seat equidistant between the bikers and Ball Cap. Her bare elbows stuck to the bar’s surface and she peeled them off, giving the man to her right a weak smile. He not only seemed to be the best bet out of this place—although he was likely the guy with the flat tire—he also looked vaguely familiar. He was about a decade older than she was and definitely cute. Judging from the way the sleeves of his button-up shirt were rolled to reveal his strong forearms, she’d bet her last dollar, which was riding in Stedman’s truck, that he’d been a businessman at one point.

  The bartender stepped closer, the chains hooked on his stained jeans clanging ominously. He stroked his long beard in a leisurely fashion as he took her in, his demeanor meant to be intimidating. And totally working. He knew she didn’t belong here—she didn’t belong anywhere. Not even in her tight-knit family of four sisters.

  The bartender was across from her now, fist nestled in his open palm. Fearing that she was about to get kicked out for not buying anything, Melanie spun on her stool to face the quiet man beside her. “Excuse me, do you have a phone?”

  He nudged up the brim of his cap, then, as if realizing he was wearing it indoors, took it off and placed it over his right knee, perhaps so it wouldn’t get sticky on the bar. His gentle gaze took her in. All the way from her silly shoes to the mess of curls hanging limply over her shoulders. “Yeah,” he said slowly.

  “Could I borrow it to make a call, please?”

  The man patted his jeans pockets. “How do I know you aren’t going to run off with it?”

  “How fast can a woman run in heels?” she replied, as sweetly as her panic would allow. The bartender was pushing his fisted knuckles into his other palm now, biceps flexing. Really big biceps. Biceps that probably could lift her up and chuck her out the door from where he stood.

  The quiet man gave her a crooked smile that caused her heart to stagger as he handed over his phone. “I’m sure I could outrun you.”

  “Thanks.” Melanie tapped in Hailey’s number with shaking hands. No answer. She tried her other two sisters, as well as their family friend, Simone, leaving messages with all of them. Sighing, Melanie handed the phone back, her eyes darting to the bartender, who had moved back to chat with the bikers, even though he kept one eye on her.

  “Car break down?” the man asked, pocketing the device.

  “Something like that.”

  He took a slow sip of his drink and watched her.

  “Okay, fine. My date dumped me here when I wouldn’t have sex with him behind the motel next door. I didn’t get a chance to grab my purse and phone out of his truck.”

  The man’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly and he quietly set down his drink, blinking once. “Well. That wasn’t very gentlemanly.”

  “Last time I try online dating. ‘Down-to-earth, back-to-the-basics’ apparently means ‘entitled prick who demands sex on the first date.’”

  The corner of the man’s lips twitched and his fingers grew tight around his pint of beer. He cast a glance around the room, sitting taller as though on the lookout for trouble. “I apologize on behalf of mankind,” he said finally, resting his gaze back on her.

  “No need. That was officially my last date. I’m turning in my dance card. Tomorrow I will be going to the SPCA to pick up my ten cats. They come free when you take the vow of spinsterhood. For each year you keep the vow you get an extra cat. It’s a pretty good deal when you think about it.”

  The man let out a surprised bark of laughter.

  She turned to him, putting on a prim act. “What? I will make a fine cat lady.”

  His lips twitched again and his eyes glimmered with humor.

  Melanie relaxed, propping an elbow on the sticky bar. “You look familiar.”

  He focused on his beer, the quiet, closed look returning. She tapped the bar with a fingernail as she ran through the list of possibilities of where she might have seen his cute chin and slightly shaggy haircut. “It was a photo! Did Hailey—she’s my sister—photograph you? No, newspaper. That’s it. I’ve seen you in the paper. Bracebridge Examiner.”

  The man adjusted his position, angling his shoulders away from her. “I’d offer you a ride, but I’m waiting for a tow truck.”

  “Flat tire?”

  He gave a short nod.

  “You’re sure that’s the only thing wrong with that old beast? It looks like something Henry Ford may have personally christened.”

  Her companion gave her a half smile of acknowledgment, his shoulders slowly relaxing.

  “I like it,” she said. “The truck.”

  He shifted back her way. Progress. She’d win a ride from him yet. She was good with people, and as like everything else in her life at the moment, she just needed a little more time.

  “I like things that have a bit of character as well as a story,” she said, edging closer. Not into his space, but enough to let him know she was comfortable around him. “Older stuff that’s not all perfect and glossed up. You can tell it’s had a life. Adventure. Character. Embraced, not hidden.” She leaned her head toward his, as though confiding a secret, pleased when he echoed her posture. “And that truck has character in spades.” Melanie straightened and slapped the bar with her right hand. “Tristen Bell! That’s who you are.”

  “Bingo. You won the toaster.” Tristen hunched over his beer, something she couldn’t identify masking his earlier interest. He was cute, if slightly distant. He had a certain something that intrigued her, and a way of looking at her that made her feel seen. It was silly, but if he kept playing his cards right and he wasn’t careful, she just might develop a little bit of a crush on him.

  “You retired or something,” she continued. “Although you look pretty young for that.” He couldn’t be an hour over forty. Although the well-washed shirt, casually rumpled hair and strong cords of muscles lining his forearms could make the former real estate mogul appear younger than he was. But still, nowhere near retirement age. Even his truck had to have a few decades on him.

  Yep. Definitely crush-worthy.

  According to Maya’s fiancé, Connor, his friend Tristen Bell had made billions with his land development company and was one of Muskoka’s most eligible bachelors, even though he had practically turned anti-social after his divorce. No arm candy. No long string of babes trailing in his wake.

  Melanie held in a sigh. Yep. She could f
eel a crush coming on like a big ol’ head cold—despite her vow to stay away from men and the world of dating.

  “Not truly retired. I still sell a bit of real estate,” Tristen said, his shoulders hunched defensively.

  “My sisters and I are wondering how to stop a major development.”

  Tristen stood before she could say more. “I think I’d better wait outside for the tow truck.”

  The bartender, who had been chatting with the bikers, shot a glance Melanie’s way, head tipped back in scrutiny. Was he checking to see if she was okay, or was he making sure she wasn’t stealing his ratty cardboard coasters? She spun off her stool and followed Tristen outside.

  Earlier, it had been difficult to imagine him sitting at home, alone, with those sexy forearms and broad shoulders. But the way he played hot and cold could definitely explain why he was single. Then again, that kind of behaviour in men wasn’t exactly atypical. Guys drooled over her sister Maya, but Melanie? Not so much. They usually got that distant, slightly constipated look and pulled back if she tried turning on the charm.

  Nothing new, so why take it personally?

  The sun struck her with its heat as she stumbled onto the wooden porch.

  A hand steadied her with reassuring strength.

  Swoon. Earlier, she’d had to resist the urge to touch the bare skin that stretched over the muscles flexing below Tristen’s rolled-up cuffs. She’d always been a sucker for strong arms. Something about a man being able to lift her without grunting and straining had always been a turn-on. And now him steadying her? Goodness, she was crushing. Big time. And totally struggling to keep from stroking his arms.