A Madaris Bride for Christmas
In her 100th book, New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Brenda Jackson blends heated sensuality and drama into a dazzling new novel featuring one her most unforgettable Madaris heroes yet…
One by one, Madaris men have surrendered to their grandmother’s matchmaking. But Lee Madaris isn’t letting anyone else control his destiny. He’ll bring a bride of his own choosing to the family’s holiday gathering—if his hotel’s gorgeous new chef will agree to a marriage of convenience.
It’s not just the chance to work at the Strip’s hottest hotel that brought Carly Briggs to Vegas. Witnessing a crime in Miami may have made her a mob target. Though she’s reluctant to complicate their working relationship, Lee’s tempting offer is so hard to resist. And soon, desire is clouding their no-strings arrangement.
The danger that made Carly flee Miami is about to land at their door. So, Carly and Lee must decide who to trust, when to let go—and whether a love they never anticipated is strong enough to pass the ultimate test.
Praise for New York Times bestselling author
“Fans of her tender and forbidden love stories will fall head over heels for Jackson’s newest addition to the saga…sure to tantalize readers with this unforgettable tale of secret love and the unrelenting power of friendship.”
—BookPage on Inseparable
“This deliciously sensual romance ramps up the emotional stakes and the action with a bit of deception and corporate espionage. Short, sexy, and sizzling.”
—Library Journal on Intimate Seduction
“Jackson does not disappoint…first-class page-turner.”
—RT Book Reviews, 4½ stars Top Pick, on A Silken Thread
“Superb storytelling, an original plot and combustible chemistry between the leads will have readers flying through the chapters, desperate to see how Jackson’s tale ends.”
—RT Book Reviews, 4½ stars Top Pick, on Bachelor Unclaimed
“Jackson does a masterful job of drawing readers into the characters’ lives and minds as she unfolds the story of their meeting, romance and happily ever after. A page-turner from start to finish.”
—RT Book Reviews, 4½ stars Top Pick, on Hidden Pleasures
“Brenda Jackson has reached a new pinnacle of literary and commercial excellence.”
—RT Book Reviews, 4½ stars Top Pick, on One Special Moment
A Madaris Bride for Christmas
New York Times Bestselling Author
Brenda Jackson
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It gives me great pleasure to present my 100th book to you.
I would be amiss if I didn’t take this time to thank a number of people who not only made this journey with me, but who inspired me, motivated me, supported me, and made writing each and every book such a memorable experience.
I thank God for giving me the gift to write and who makes all things possible.
To the man who is the love of my life, Gerald Jackson, Sr.
My one and only. Always.
To my sons, Gerald Jr. and Brandon Jackson, who constantly make their mother proud.
To my faithful and loyal readers who motivate me to write love stories that help them escape into a world of love and romance.
I thank you and I appreciate you.
To all my editors—the late Monica Harris, Karen Thomas, Glenda Howard, Monique Patterson, Mavis Allen, Evette Porter, Kelli Martin, Brenda Chin, Stacy Boyd, Valerie Gray, Krista Stroever, Melissa Jeglinski, Joan Marlow Golan and others. Your editorial expertise helped me to present the best stories to my readers.
To my agent, Pattie Steele-Perkins.
Your unwavering support has always been appreciated.
To all the publishers who ever released a Brenda Jackson book.
I thank you for the opportunity you gave me.
To my present publisher, Harlequin. Thank you for your undying support and for always making me feel special.
To my family and friends, whose support I will always appreciate.
To my classmates from Northwestern High School and William M. Raines, Class of 1971, who were my first readers.
Special thanks to Keisha Mennefee for your assistance in my research on chefs.
Special thanks to Angie Lee, Resident Chef and Instructor, for all your information on chefs and culinary schools.
Dear Reader,
I never imagined when I penned my first book, Tonight and Forever—the love story of Justin Madaris and Lorren Jacobs—that eighteen years later I would still be writing about the Madaris family. I am proud that I began my writing career with a Madaris book and that my 100th book is based on that same family.
The Madaris Family is a special family, not just because it was my first family, but because over the years you’ve made them your family. I once said that the Madaris men have become your heroes because they represent those things you desire—men with looks to take your breath away, and who have the ability to make you appreciate the fact that you are a woman.
Over the past few Madaris books, we have seen the matriarch of the family, Mama Laverne, play matchmaker for those single men and women in her family. She feels that it’s now Lee Madaris’s time and she is determined for him to have a Madaris bride for Christmas.
I hope you enjoy reading A Madaris Bride for Christmas, and I hope you add this to your collection of the Madaris Family and Friends series.
All the Best,
Brenda Jackson
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
—Psalms 23:1
Contents
Prologue
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
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Prologue
“Are you sure you saw what you think you saw, Carly?”
Instead of answering her best friend, Carly Briggs took a sip of her drink. The liquid nearly scorched her throat going down. Vodka?
“Where did you get this?” she asked, drawing in a cooling breath. As far as she knew, the only alcohol she and Heather Kramer kept in their apartment was wine.
Heather shrugged. “Lori gave it to me. She cleaned house and said it was left over from the New Year’s Eve party she gave three years ago.”
Carly remembered that party. She and Heather had just moved to Miami and into their apartment near South Beach. Lori Cummins, a neighbor who lived in the apartment across the hall, had thrown a party that weekend and invited them.
“Now, let’s not get sidetracked,” Heather said, reclaiming Carly’s attention. “Are you sure you saw—”
“I didn’t see anything,” Carly said, her agitation not yet helped by the alcohol. “It’s what I heard—coming through a vent in the wine room. Several men were arguing in the alley outside the restaurant. They accused this guy of being a traitor. Then I heard a gunshot that seemed to be muffled with a silencer.”
The conversation was something Carly would never forget. The deep, raspy, intimidating voice of one man and the terrifying sound of another man pleading for his life. It was a wonder she hadn’t screamed and given her location away.
Instead, she’d frozen and then her surroundings went black. The next thing she remembered was being awakened by Chef Renaldo, who didn’t want to hear anything she had to say about men and gunshots. Instead, she had been scolded about going over her break time by ten minutes and not pulling her load on a busy night.
Fearing someone was possibly bleeding to death in the alley, she’d talked one of the staff waiters into going outside with her to look around. She’d made up some excuse about hearing a kitten crying. They had checked all over the place and found nothing.
“Maybe you only thought you heard it,” Heather said, looking at her with concern in her eyes. “You even admit that Chef Renaldo woke you up. Maybe you dreamed you heard it.”
Instead of taking another sip of her drink, Carly placed the glass on the table. “Why would I dream such a thing?”
Heather stood and waved off her question. “How would I know? You’ve been working a lot of crazy hours and Chef Renaldo has been getting on your last nerve. Maybe all the stress is catching up with you.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Carly said, although she knew Heather wasn’t right.
She knew what she’d heard, which was why she’d arrived home tonight needing a strong drink, why she had called the police tip line. The tip-line operators promised to scramble callers’ phone numbers so the call couldn’t be traced. She was glad it was anonymous. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to think she was a loony tune.
Carly stood. “I’m going to take a bath and go to bed. The restaurant is opening early tomorrow for a baby shower and I’ll be one of the chefs on duty to help prepare the desserts.”
“But tomorrow is your off day,” Heather reminded her.
“I know, but I can use the money.”
“Now you’re making me feel bad about moving out.”
Carly reached out and grabbed Heather’s hand. “Please don’t feel bad. It’s not every day a woman meets the man of her dreams. I love you, girl, but had it been me, I would have married Joel months ago. He’s the best.”
And she really meant it. The guy Heather had met and fallen in love with last year, Joel Garcia, was CEO of a marketing firm in Spain, where they would make their home. The wedding was planned for next month. A June wedding. And Carly was the maid of honor.
“Don’t forget that you have that job interview with the hotel in Vegas next week,” Heather reminded her, standing too.
Carly nodded. She had gotten a call from one of her instructors from the Parisian culinary school she had attended. He’d advised her that a newly opened hotel in Las Vegas was looking for a pastry chef and he had thought of her. He had wanted her to apply for the job and promised that he would highly recommend her for the position.
That Chef LaPierre would go out of his way to call her and offer her a recommendation was all the encouragement she’d needed. A few weeks later she’d received a letter inviting her to Vegas to be interviewed.
“After last night, I’m going to need the trip.”
“And the job would be nice too,” Heather said, laughing.
“Of course.”
Carly had made the right decision, moving to Miami with Heather three years ago. Heather’s job as program coordinator with a major cruise line had transferred her here, and Carly had just broken up with Nathaniel Knox, the minister she’d met while volunteering to feed the needy, after a serious relationship. At the time, leaving Porter, Connecticut, had been the best thing.
Although Carly liked Miami, there was really nothing to keep her here once Heather married and moved to Spain.
“Yes, the job in Vegas would be nice, but if that doesn’t work out, I’ll be fine here. Rumor has it that Chef Renaldo has his eye on that position opening up at a restaurant in South Beach.”
“And you hope he gets it, right?”
Carly smiled. “It would definitely make my life easier. The man can be simply horrid.”
“Well, I’m hoping something works out with that interview. Moving to Vegas would be good for you.”
Carly chuckled. “Yeah, me and Sin City. If I do get the job, the next time I go home, Aunt Ruthie is sure to pray all over me.” Ruth Briggs was the grand-aunt who’d raised her since she was a baby.
Heather threw her head back and laughed. “Yes, I can see your aunt doing that.”
Carly bade Heather good-night and made her way to her bedroom. Without Heather to distract her, her thoughts shifted back to what she’d heard through the vent earlier that evening.
She had checked the alley for victims. She’d given the police a tip. There was really nothing more she could do. First thing in the morning she would check the newspapers to see if anything was mentioned. If not, she would no longer lose sleep wondering what did or did not happen in the alley.
One week later
In the middle of the night, four men gathered in an empty warehouse near the Miami Beach marina. Even through the steel walls, the sound of waves, remnants of last week’s tropical storm, beat against the sides of the boats docked outside.
“Why was this meeting called, Palmer?” The man’s voice was deep, authoritarian and annoyed. “I thought we wouldn’t meet again until—”
“Some woman called the tip line about Harrison. Wouldn’t give a lot of information, only said she thought someone had been killed in the alley,” Palmer said. “I heard the tip but couldn’t trace the call.”
The room quieted and all gazes turned to another of the men, Addison Bracey. “I got the word earlier today from our inside man. Luckily, he intercepted the tip. He went out himself to make sure you didn’t get clumsy that night, Nash. I wish nothing had been done with Harrison until I got back from Chicago.”
There was a snort and Nash’s deep, raspy voice said, “Couldn’t wait when we found out he was a traitor. I handled it, and I didn’t get clumsy.”
“With no evidence left behind, right, Nash?” the deep authoritarian voice asked.
“No evidence was left behind,” Magnus Nash agreed. “Like I said, the problem was taken care of.”
“And the person who called the tip line?” the authoritarian voice asked.
“No one was in the alley that night, I’d swear it. But if there’s a loose end, I’ll take care of it,” Nash said haughtily.
The others were quiet until the man with the deep voice said, “Make sure that you do. My concentration needs to be on expanding the business, not on taking care of traitors. That’s your job. This meeting is adjourned.”
Chapter 1
Four months later
Lee Madaris glanced at the clock on his wall before rubbing away the tension forming in the back of his neck. Although it was nearing midnight, he was still in his office working. It was imperative that he do so.
Five potential investors would be arriving tomorrow and spending four days at the Grand MD Vegas hotel. He would be catering to them at a level that was unprecedented. The five men had enough cumulative capital to balance the national budget, if they’d chosen to do so. However, balancing the national budget wasn’t Lee’s goal. His objective was to get them to invest in his next hotel—the Grand MD Paris.
After the success of the Grand MD Dubai, as well as all the attention the hotel in Vegas had received since opening its doors four months ago, a number of investors were ready to provide funds for his next venture. But he didn’t want just anyone; he wanted men willing to take a chance on a hotel that would be astonishingly different from its two predecessors. It would be a hotel of the future.
Both Grand MD hotels had been Madaris–Di Meglio joint ventures—highly successful and breaking sales records. But the third hotel, the one planned for Paris, France, would use state-of-the-art technology while maintaining the rich architectural design Paris was known for.
Lee’s cousin and the architect in the family, Slade Madaris, had designed the first two Grand MDs and would likewise design the one proposed for Paris. Slade’s design was nothing short of a masterpiece and would be unveiled at one of the meetings this week. Slade’s twin brother, Blade, would be the structural engineer. No two Grand MD hotels would look the same. Each would have its own unique architecture and appeal.
Pulling in a deep breath, Lee returned his attention to the documents in front of him—bios on the five men. The name that topped the list was that of his grand-uncle Jake Madaris. Lee didn’t need to read his uncle’s bio.
The man was a walking genius when it came to playing the stock market, and as far back as Lee could remember, Jake had been financial adviser to the entire Madaris family. If it hadn’t been for his uncle’s smart move of establishing a trust fund for all his nieces and nephews when they were still in high school, Lee would not have had the money to partner with his good friend DeAngelo Di Meglio to build their first two hotels.
Jake and another family friend, Mitch Farrell, had been the hotels’ financial backers. Mitch—the second man on the list—and Jake had already confirmed they were on board for the Paris hotel since the last two hotels had been a successful venture for them.
However, the price tag for a Paris hotel was higher than the price of the other two combined, and Jake had suggested bringing in other investors. All were good friends of Jake’s, but his uncle had warned Lee that convincing them to invest would be Lee’s responsibility.
He was ready.
The third person on the list was Kyle Garwood, a multimillionaire who made his primary home in Atlanta. Kyle was married, the father of six. Lee liked Kyle and highly respected him.
The last two men were sheikhs from the Middle East. Sheikh Rasheed Valdemon of Mowaiti had such a close relationship with the Madaris family that he had been named an honorary family member and occasionally went by the name of Monty Madaris when he did business in the United States.
Finally, there was Rasheed’s brother-in-law, Sheikh Jamal Ari Yasir of Tahran. Lee had never met Sheikh Yasir but had heard he was a shrewd businessman, always looking for a good investment. He was married to an American woman, the former Delaney Westmoreland.
Lee would be wining and dining the five men in the Grand MD style. Everything was in place and would be set in motion as soon as they arrived tomorrow morning.
Their visit had been strategically planned down to the last detail. They would be given a tour of the hotel before they were served lunch. Since tomorrow was a traveling day, no meetings had been planned. However, early the following day, Lee’s skilled marketing team would kick things off with several video presentations and meetings. Around three, the men and their wives would be given the chance to rest and relax before a dinner fit for royalty.
Afterward, they would enjoy the nightlife Vegas was famous for—from right inside the Grand MD. The casinos, live shows, state-of-the-art IMAX theater and the exquisite mall on the fifth floor that offered twenty-four-hour shopping all guaranteed that the Grand MD would gain a reputation as the hotel that never closed.
A winning hotel had to have a winning staff. He and Angelo had handpicked all of his executives and managers. Each had hotel experience and had come with sterling résumés and excellent recommendations. He and Angelo were pleased with every staff member, and those who didn’t deliver were quickly replaced. Second-best was not an option at the Grand MD.
Lee moved away from his desk, intending to walk around and get his blood flowing, but the moment he stepped into the executive suite’s lobby he stopped to stare at the huge picture hanging on the wall. It was a portrait of his great-grandmother Felicia Laverne Madaris the First, whom they fondly called Mama Laverne.
She was the matriarch of the Madaris family. Having borne seven sons, his grandfather Lee being one of them, Mama Laverne had raised her sons by herself after her husband, Milton, had died. All her sons were still alive except for Robert, who had been killed in the Vietnam War. Lee’s grand-uncle Jake was Laverne’s baby boy.
Mama Laverne had insisted that Lee hang this particular picture of her right there on that wall. She’d given the same directive to his other cousins. They all had the same framed photograph hanging in the offices of their various businesses. She was dressed in her Sunday best, with a huge dressy hat on her head, and she appeared to be looking directly at the viewer with those shrewd eyes and an all-knowing smile. At least she was smiling. A Mama Laverne frown could make him quake in his boots. She definitely liked giving orders, and she expected them to be carried out.
Lee chuckled. He wished he could say she was getting bossy in her old age, but as far back as he could remember, she’d always been bossy. Besides that, she was a notorious busybody when it came to meddling in the lives of her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Even at ninetysomething, he figured she would still be around to meddle with the great-great-grands’ lives as well.
He didn’t want to think of a time when she would no longer be in their midst. Their love for her was the main reason why he and his still-single brothers and cousins overlooked a lot of her shenanigans, especially her determination to marry off each of them.
Closing the door behind him, he walked along the spacious lobby hallway, noting the elegance, style and sophistication that were such integral parts of his Vegas hotel. Besides being the tallest building on the Strip, with seventy-five floors, it had an amusement park on one of its lower levels, making it an ideal place to stay for both adults and families. From the carpeting on the floor to the paintings on the wall, from the furnishings to the hotel’s special amenities, anyone would agree that the hotel deserved the seven-star rating reviewers were giving it.
Sliding back huge glass doors, he stepped out onto the terrace of the executive suite. Normally, he wasn’t one who took the time to appreciate a lot of greenery, but with the quality of the hotel on his mind, he couldn’t help doing so. Various plants had been flown in just for this terrace.
Lee inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of the plants mixed with the September air. He looked beyond the Vegas view to study the looming desert. The rain had lessened the heat and now a sultry breeze stirred the air. The sky overhead looked dark and dreary. There didn’t seem to be a single star. A part of him longed to be back in Houston, gazing up into a Texas night.
Lee shook off the longing. He had too much work to do to be melancholy. He hadn’t been home since last Christmas and another one would be coming up soon, but opening the two Grand MDs had taken up all his time, personally and professionally. Now luring investors for a third hotel would make him even busier.
Just as he turned to go back inside, his gaze landed on a woman standing on the balcony a couple of levels below. His breath was snatched from his lungs. A low groan passed from his lips as a jolt of sexual energy rocked him to the bone.
She was beautiful. Sensually stunning. Picture-perfect.
She stood leaning against the balcony rail, wearing a sexy green dress and chocolate-colored stilettos, her hair blowing in the breeze. From her expression, as she stared down below, he could tell she was fascinated by the bright lights of the Strip.
Was she a guest at the hotel? He scanned the balcony connected to a tri-level observation deck. It appeared she was alone. Something about her pulled at him. She looked happy, peaceful, but lonely.