Million Dollar Christmas Bride - A Billionaire Romance Read online

  Million Dollar Christmas Bride

  Holly Rayner

  Contents

  Million Dollar Christmas Bride

  1. Bianca

  2. Jackson

  3. Jackson

  4. Bianca

  5. Jackson

  6. Bianca

  7. Bianca

  8. Bianca

  9. Bianca

  10. Bianca

  11. Jackson

  12. Bianca

  13. Bianca

  14. Jackson

  15. Jackson

  16. Bianca

  17. Bianca

  18. Bianca

  19. Bianca

  20. Jackson

  21. Bianca

  Epilogue

  A Billionaire Boyfriend For Christmas

  1. Adison

  Want More?

  Also by Holly Rayner

  Million Dollar Christmas Bride

  Copyright 2020 by Holly Rayner

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.

  All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Bianca

  “Can you cover for me?” Bianca said into her cell phone as the traffic light ahead turned green. She stepped on the accelerator. “I’m so close—on the corner of Lee and Riverside. I’ll be there soon, I promise.” She peered out at the lane of congested traffic ahead. A light drizzle fell, and the twilight sky was darker than usual.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Nicky said in her usual chipper tone. Bianca had worked with Nicky, another nurse assistant, for over five years, and had never once seen the woman in a foul mood. “You owe me one, though!”

  “I’ll stay late for you anytime,” Bianca promised. “You just say the word.”

  “Gail’s in a real snit this evening,” Nicky said, her tone lowered. “Something must have happened at home before she arrived.”

  Bianca sighed. The night manager at the assisted living home where she worked was always in a snit. “Oh boy,” she said, as she braked to avoid the bumper of the car ahead.

  What is all this traffic about? she thought. Usually, on her way in for night shifts she enjoyed the fact that her schedule allowed her to avoid the rush-hour Memphis traffic. Thankfully, she could see the right turn just up the block that would take her into the parking structure adjacent to Riverside Assisted Living.

  Nicky went on. “I’ll say you’re already here, helping me out by grabbing wheelchairs from the lobby. Hey, we actually have been short on wheelchairs up here, come to think of it. On your way up, will you see if you can snag a few? I think—”

  Beep. Nicky’s voice was cut off by the tone alert for an incoming call.

  Bianca frowned. Who could that be? Unexpected calls were not a welcome event—not since her mother’s stroke, several years prior. It seemed that half the time, incoming calls pertained to some form of bad news related to her mother’s health.

  Beep.

  “Hey, Nicky?” Bianca said, cutting off her coworker’s monologue about the lack of wheelchairs. “I’ve got to take this call. I’ll see you in a few minutes, okay?” She quickly lowered the phone from her ear and glanced at the screen, her heart thudding in her chest with the expectation of bad news.

  What is it this time? she wondered. Another fall? Did she aspirate her grits?

  Relief flooded her as she saw the number on the screen: a telemarketer.

  “Whew,” she said with an exhale. Her eyes moved back to the road ahead—but it was too late.

  The car ahead of her, a sleek, brand new, black Ferrari, had stopped suddenly.

  Crunch!

  Bianca’s old sedan shuddered with the impact of her hood against the trunk of the Ferrari. The excruciating sound of metal against metal filled her ears. Her body shifted forward, but the momentum was stopped by the tight pull of her seatbelt across her chest. A swear word escaped her lips, and she felt a flush of adrenaline heat her cheeks. Something warm and wet splattered against her right side, and at first she thought it might be blood.

  It wasn’t.

  It was soup.

  Warm, just-made chicken noodle soup that she’d been planning to bring to her mother, who was a resident at Riverside Assisted Living.

  She looked over to the passenger seat and saw that the container of soup that she’d been transporting had glided right off the seat and into the dashboard of the car, where it had exploded in a fragrant, soupy, splattery mess.

  Another swear word escaped her lips, and she wiped a stray splash of soup from her cheek as she maneuvered her car out of traffic. The Ferrari ahead did the same.

  Great, she thought. Now I’m going to be even more late.

  She thrust the shifter into park, and the flush to her cheeks intensified as she contemplated the damage she’d done to her car, as well as the car ahead.

  A quick glance at the Ferrari told her that the driver—male, by the look of his silhouette—was getting ready to get out of his car. He pulled a baseball hat over his head, likely to protect his hair from the falling rain.

  Bianca wished she had a hat of some sort, but she knew she didn’t. The parking garage was covered, so she never worried about hats or umbrellas. She did, however, have a windbreaker which she usually kept tucked in the back seat, in case of emergencies.

  She rummaged around until she found it. Her cardigan was splattered with soup, so she stripped it off and then pulled on the oversized black windbreaker. The hood’s brim flopped down over her eyes as she pushed the car door open. Reaching up, she tried to position the hood so that it wasn’t obscuring her vision but still shielded her from the falling raindrops.

  This better be quick, she thought, as she contemplated the logistics of the conversation ahead. I’ll give this guy my insurance information, and then maybe I can still make it to work before—

  Her train of thought stopped short as she caught sight of the other driver’s face. He was drop-dead gorgeous! His blue eyes were the color of the ocean. His bronzed complexion and sun-bleached blond hair—just visible at the edges of his black baseball cap—told of a love for the outdoors, and his features were strong and relaxed. He had both hands in the pockets of his slate-gray slacks. Though he wore a designer jacket, she could see the collar of a blazer peeking out at the neckline.

  He lifted the corner of his mouth as she met his eye. “Hey there,” he said with a Southern drawl. His tone was neutral; not angry, but not exactly friendly, either. “I believe you rear-ended me.”

  “I did, didn’t I?” Bianca said, as she reached up and tried to fix the brim of her hood again. It was no use. It flopped down over her eyes and she had to tilt her chin up so that she could see out from under it. “I am so sorry,” she gushed. “I was in a rush, on my way to work, and this traffic… It’s just this construction, you know? Getting in the way of things?” She had a feeling she wasn’t making sense, and she blushed again.

  He’s so handsome! she thought. He looks like a celebrity. Is he? His clothes sure are fancy enough… and that car…

  “It’s not the end of the world,” the man said.

  “No, it’s not, but I feel so terrible. I never get into accidents like this. And now is the worst ti
ming. I’m late for work, and my manager is super strict about employees being on time. You’d think running ten minutes late was against the law or something, the way that woman reacts.”

  She gestured to the tall brick building that towered next to the parking garage just down the block. “I work right over there, and my shift was supposed to start at six.” She pulled out her phone and glanced at the time. It was 6:13.

  “Riverside Assisted Living,” the man said, as he read the large letters printed along the building’s side. She saw him take in her scrub pants, with the cargo pockets. She had various supplies stuffed into one side, and it made the pocket bulge out. “Are you a nurse?” His voice was deep and smooth. He spoke in a slow, confident, even-keeled manner. He was used to commanding the room—and wasn’t about to rush his words for anyone, including her—that much was clear.

  She found herself speaking even faster, as if to make up for lost time. “I’m a nursing assistant, actually. I do a lot of the same things that nurses do, but for half the pay. Sometimes the nurses even have us LNAs do the hard tasks that they don’t want to do. I stick with it because they give me a good discount on a room for my mom, seeing as I’m an employee.”

  She pushed the brim of her hood back. It flopped down again. She knew she was babbling, but she just couldn’t stop. “My mom had a stroke a few years ago, and she’s been in assisted living ever since. Anyway, to make a long story short, I really need this job. And my manager does not react favorably to late employees. So would you mind if we waited until tomorrow to exchange insurance details? I’m off at seven a.m. and then free all day. I would really appreciate it.”

  She looked up at him with what she hoped was a trustworthy expression. “I can give you my number, and I promise that I’ll call my insurance first thing in the morning and then we can work everything out. I promise.”

  “I see,” the man said. “I wouldn’t want you to be late…” He looked over at the cars next to them. “Looks like you fared better than I did, but we both sustained body damage.”

  Her eyes moved over to the sports car that was parked in front of her beat-up old sedan. Raindrops beaded off of its shiny black body as if it had just been waxed. The taillight was smashed in, and there was a significant dent in the trunk. In contrast, her car only had a minor dent on the hood. The car was so old that it was barely noticeable, anyway.

  The man went on. “That should be no problem.” He pulled his phone from his gray wool jacket.

  She noticed, as he held his device, that he didn’t wear a wedding band.

  “Ready when you are,” he said.

  “Okay…” She rattled off her number. Though she tried to keep her tone even and calm, it was tight with nervousness and she spoke too fast. Sheesh! she thought. It’s been way too long since I’ve given a good-looking man my number.

  He seemed to sense her giddy energy. He gave her that one-sided, lip-curled smile again and said in his slow, easy way, “What name should I put that under?”

  “Bianca,” she said. “Bianca Jones. Call me in the morning and I’ll have everything ready.”

  She backed up. It was difficult to stand next to the handsome stranger and breathe at the same time. She felt weak at her knees. At least I have a good story to tell Nicky, she thought, as she backed up some more until she bumped into her car.

  “Oof!” she said with surprise. Then she laughed nervously and reached for the door handle.

  Wow, she thought. I’m acting like a lovestruck teenager! You’d think I’d never spoken to an attractive man before. She shook her head as she pulled open the car door.

  I’ve got to get out more. When was the last time I went on a date?

  Ah yes… June.

  And now it’s November!

  I’ll organize a girls’ night out with some of the ladies from work, she thought. We’ll go dancing or something like that…

  She inserted her key into the ignition and gave it a turn. As the engine rumbled to life, her windshield wipers flicked into motion. She peered through the dancing blades at the man, who was examining the rear of his car.

  She couldn’t help but stare for a moment. So gorgeous, she thought, as she caught sight of his profile. She bit her lip and zoned out, taking in the sight of him.

  He turned and caught her ogling, which made her blush. I said I was in a rush, so I better get on with it, she thought. She pulled away from the curb and gave the man a wave as she passed by him.

  Nicky is just going to die when I tell her that I got into a fender bender with the hottest guy in Memphis! she thought with a smile.

  The man lifted a hand and waved before resuming the examination of his car.

  That is, if I even get to talk to Nicky before Gail catches me, Bianca thought, as her smile faded into a worried frown.

  Chapter 2

  Jackson

  Jackson looked up from his car in time to see the woman lift a dainty, pale hand and wave. He reflexively mirrored the gesture, all the while taking in one last impression of her face.

  Her skin was as white as polished marble, her eyes green, and her hair—what little he could see of it beneath the hood of her jacket—was auburn and fell in soft waves around her face. Even though much of her appearance was obscured by the jacket and the baggy drape of her maroon work scrubs, he could tell she was pretty.

  He smiled to himself as he went back to examining the mess of broken glass that used to be a functioning taillight.

  She was sweet, he thought, as he recalled the way she’d looked at him with big, pleading eyes, through lashes that were beaded with rain, and asked to take care of the matter of insurance in the morning. Jackson had no doubt that she intended to keep her promise to call her insurance company once she was through with work. She’s trustworthy, he thought.

  He usually had good instincts when it came to people. A few serious mistakes when first taking over his father’s business had led him to hone his skills at reading others. Bianca struck him as a sincere and honest person.

  A bit frazzled, but in a nice way, he thought with a bemused smile as he got back into his car.

  He pulled into traffic and had only been driving for five minutes when a ringtone interrupted the country song playing in the car’s speakers, alerting him to an incoming call.

  Danielle, the caller ID on the dashboard said.

  Jackson pressed a button on his steering wheel, and the sound of his sister’s voice floated through the car speakers.

  “Jackson? You there?”

  “Right here,” Jackson said. “Though you just barely caught me. If you called a few minutes ago, I’d have been in the middle of dealing with a minor car accident.”

  He smiled as he changed lanes. A good mood permeated his being, and he had a feeling that it was due to the sweetness of the woman he’d just interacted with. There was something so endearing about her—so refreshing. He chuckled softly to himself as he recalled the way she’d kept pushing her hood up out of her eyes. No matter how many times she did it, it kept slipping down again.

  “An accident?” Danielle repeated. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Jackson said. “My Ferrari is a little beat-up, though.” He continued to grin as he took a left and then merged onto a two-lane street that would take him further into the heart of the city.

  “You don’t sound like you just got into an accident,” Danielle said. “You love your cars. What’s going on with you?”

  The suspicion in her tone made Jackson laugh.

  “I’m fine,” he said. “The woman who caused the damage was nice, and it’s honestly the least of my worries right now.”

  He paused, thinking of the meeting he was about to endure. Then he said, “What’s up?”

  “Just checking in,” Danielle said in a clipped tone.

  Jackson knew that wasn’t the whole truth. His older sister, who lived a fast-paced life in LA, never called without an agenda. He kept quiet, and soon enough she revealed it.

  �
��So have you seen Mom yet?” she asked.

  Having already guessed the reason for his sister’s sudden desire for communication, Jackson had an answer ready.

  “Not yet,” he said, “but I’m heading to a restaurant to meet her now. You remember the Parlor Grille? Dad took us there the last time you visited before he died. They make a mean Porterhouse… mm-mmm… cooked medium-rare. You can’t beat it.”

  “I didn’t call to talk about steak,” Danielle said with exasperation. “Really, Jackson. Get your mind out of the meat gutter. I want to talk about Mom.”

  “I haven’t seen her yet,” Jackson said. “I just told you that.”

  “Well, what are you going to say to her when you see her?”

  “How should I know?” Jackson said. He couldn’t help but allow a bit of attitude into his usually even tone. More than with anyone else, when he talked with his sister, he let his guard down. They’d grown up together, after all.

  “You’d better figure it out if you’re going to go have dinner with her,” Danielle snapped. “I can’t believe she’s home, after all these years—after what she did to us. I mean, can you believe this?”

  Actually, Jackson couldn’t. When Danielle had called him, one month prior, to say that their mother was on her way from Scotland to Tennessee, Jackson had felt so shocked that he’d barely been able to comprehend the news.

  Danielle went on. “I mean, she cheated on poor Dad, got a divorce, and then ran off to Scotland! Leaving two children behind! Now she has the nerve to move back to the city she left, into the house that we all used to live in. I just don’t see the point.”