Secret Vows

A Hideaway Wedding Wager

Twins Ana and Jason and their cousin Nicholas are successful thirtysomethings who are single—and loving it. They have no idea that their relatives are betting on which one of them will get married first. But by the family’s New Year’s Eve reunion, will all three have learned what it means to be really lucky—in love?

In too deep…

Music is Jason Cole’s first love, and so far, no woman has ever come close. He’s happiest writing and recording at his Oregon mountain retreat. Plus, the gorgeous new waitress at the local restaurant is another reason to enjoy spending time in the small, remote town—especially once he hears her sing.…

Though she’s flattered when Jason offers her a recording contract, Greer Evans says no. She can’t reveal the truth—that she’s there on a dangerous secret assignment. But as their flirty friendship turns intimate, everything is on the line—Greer’s career, their safety and the yearning passion that could put both their lives at risk.…

Secret Vows

Rochelle Alers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Hideaway Wedding Series

Good-natured boasting raises its multimillion-dollar head at the Cole family compound during a New Year’s Eve celebration. Family patriarch Martin Cole proposes each man in attendance place a one-million-dollar wager to the winner’s alma mater as an endowment in their name. The terms: predicting who among Nicholas, Jason and Ana will marry before the next New Year’s Eve.

Twins Jason and Ana Cole have given no indication they are even remotely thinking of tying the knot. Both claim they are too busy signing new talent to their record label. Former naval officer Nicholas Cole-Thomas has also been dragging his feet when it comes to the opposite sex. However, within the next six months Ana, Nicholas and Jason will encounter a very special person who will not only change them, but change their lives forever.

In Summer Vows, when CEO of Serenity Records Ana Cole signs a recording phenom to her label, she ignites a rivalry that targets her for death. Her safety and well-being are then entrusted to family friend U.S. Marshal Jacob Jones, and Ana is forced to step away from the spotlight and her pampered lifestyle. She unwillingly follows Jacob to his vacation home in the Florida Keys until those responsible for the hit on her life are apprehended. Once Ana gets past Jacob’s rigid rules, she finds herself surrendering to the glorious sunsets and the man willing to risk everything, including his heart, to keep her safe and make her his own.

Nicholas Cole-Thomas’s entry into the world of horse breeding has caused quite a stir in Virginia’s horse country. Not only is he quite the eligible bachelor, but there is also a lot of gossip about his prized Arabian breeding stock. In Eternal Vows, Nicholas meets Peyton Blackstone, the neighboring farm’s veterinarian intern. He is instantly drawn to her intelligence, but recognizes the vulnerability she attempts to mask with indifference. Nicholas offers Peyton a position to work on his farm, and when they step in as best man and maid of honor at his sister’s spur-of-the-moment wedding, he tries to imagine how different his life would be with a wife of his own. Just when he opens his heart to love again, someone from Peyton’s past resurfaces to shatter their newfound happiness, and now Nicholas must decide whether their love is worth fighting for.

Record executive Jason Cole will admit to anyone that he has a jealous mistress: music. As the artistic director for Serenity Records Jason is laid-back, easygoing and a musical genius. His brief tenure running the company is over and he’s heading to his recording studio in a small remote Oregon mountain town to indulge in his obsession. But all that changes in Secret Vows, when Jason hears restaurant waitress Greer Evans singing backup with a local band. As they become more than friends, he is unaware of the secret she jealously guards with her life. And when he finds himself falling in love with Greer, Jason is stunned to find she is the only one who stands between him and certain death, at the same time realizing love is the most desperate risk of all.

Don’t forget to read, love and live romance.

Rochelle Alers

Happy the husband of a good wife, twice-lengthened are his days; a worthy wife brings joy to her husband, peaceful and full is his life.

—Sirach 26:1, 2

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

Prologue

West Palm Beach, Florida

Timothy Cole-Thomas felt his cell phone vibrate. Reaching into the pocket of his shirt, he stared at the display, smiled and tapped a button. “Hello, Nicholas.”

“Hello, Dad. I just called to let you know I’m getting married.”

Low-key, soft-spoken Timothy cut a step, spun around and bellowed at the top of his lungs. “Yes!” Everyone standing or lounging around the pool at the West Palm Beach family compound turned to stare at him as if he’d completely lost his mind. “Who is she?” he whispered conspiratorially, walking a short distance away so he wouldn’t be overheard by four generations of Coles who’d gotten together for the Labor Day weekend. He listened as Nicholas told him about the veterinarian with whom he’d fallen in love. “When are we going to meet her?” he asked his youngest son.

“That’s not going to be for a while,” Nicholas said.

Timothy felt a shiver eddy its way up his back when his son explained why Peyton Blackstone wouldn’t be able to travel for at least two months. She’d been stabbed by her ex-husband before the man was shot by a member of her cousin’s horse farm’s security team.

“If the farm has optimum security measures in place, then how did her ex-husband bypass it?”

“We discovered he had paid a member of the catering staff to let him use his uniform to surprise his girlfriend with an engagement ring. The poor man had no way of knowing he was being set up as an accomplice to an attempted murder. This is a reminder that anyone can breach the best protected property.”

Timothy was aware that his son’s horse farm used the most sophisticated electronic equipment available, and he’d also hired highly trained security personnel to protect his investment, but there were those willing to risk life and limb to steal his prized Arabians.

“I want you to be careful, Nicky.”

“I will.”

“Shall I give the rest of the family the good news?” he asked.

“Sure. As soon as Peyton’s up to receiving visitors, I want you and Mom to come and stay for a few weeks. Peyton’s mother is here, and I know she would like to discuss wedding plans with Mom. Peyton wants a simple church wedding at the chapel on Blackstone Farms, and she’s agreed to repeat her vows on New Year’s Eve along with Ana and Jacob in West Palm. I already called Ana and asked if she wouldn’t mind sharing her wedding celebration with us, and she said yes. I’d asked her not to say anything to you or Mom until I told you myself.”

Timothy nodded even though his son couldn’t see him. It was obvious Nicholas was either nervous or excited because he was talking nonstop. “So, that’s why Ana’s been giving me strange looks ever since she got here. I’ll be certain to let her know you told me. If you guys want to take a honeymoon, then renovations to the house in Venice should be ready by the end of the year. Your mother and I are going back next year for Carnival, and you and Peyton are more than welcome to join us. The villa has three apartments, so there’s plenty of space where we won’t have to run into one another.”

“I’ll tell her, and then I’ll let you know. I’m sorry to ring off, Dad, but I have to meet with someone at three.”

“Thanks for calling, and congratulations.”

“Thanks. Love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too, son.”

Timothy ended the call, and then approached his uncles who were engaged in a heated discussion about the upcoming football season. “Mis estimado tíos, I’d like to speak to you in the library.”

Martin Cole rested an arm on his nephew’s shoulder. “Since when did we become esteemed uncles? I’ve always been Martin.”

David Cole flashed a matched set of dimples. The bright Florida sun glinted off his cropped silver hair. “The only one who has ever been uncle anything is Josh.”

Joshua Kirkland smiled behind the lenses of his sunglasses. “That’s because I’ve always struck fear in the heart of this pup.”

Timothy laughed again. “I’m over sixty and much too old to be a pup. Even Diego—who’ll be forty in a couple years—can’t be considered a pup. Now, Martin’s grandson Clayborne is definitely in the pup category.”

Martin nodded. “Let’s go inside so we can find out what Timothy has been sniggling about.”

Timothy waited until everyone was seated in the library, its shelves lined with first edition classic bestsellers, antiques and reproductions. “Nicholas just called me to say he’s getting married.” A couple groans followed his announcement. “Hold up,” he said, when the three men started talking at once. “He’s having a small church wedding at the chapel on the neighboring farm, and then he and his wife plan to repeat their vows here on New Year’s Eve. And before you ask, David, Ana and Jacob have agreed to a double wedding ceremony.”

David ran long brown fingers over his face. “Why didn’t Ana say anything to me about this?”

“She didn’t because Nicholas had asked her not to,” Timothy explained.

Martin laced his fingers together and slumped farther down in his favorite leather chair. “I guess you’re done with the wager, Timothy. And this only leaves David’s Jason. What do you think, Josh?”

It was early in the morning of the past New Year’s Day when the four men had wagered whose single thirty-something children would marry before the end of the year. Each man had put up a million dollars, the winner setting up an endowment in their name to their alma mater. David was the exception when he had to wager two million because his unmarried twin son and daughter were two of the three targets reluctant to change their marital status. That had all changed when Ana had married U.S. Marshal Jacob Jones. Those who’d selected Ana to marry first, and then Nicholas, were certain to win the wager.

David frowned. “Martin, why are you asking him about my boy?”

“Because Joshua is impartial, David,” Martin countered. “None of his kids are involved in this wager.”

Joshua, having removed his sunglasses, massaged the bridge of his nose. His light green eyes shifted from his brothers to his nephew. “I don’t think Jason’s going to remain single much longer.”

“Why would you say that?” Timothy asked.

Looping one leg over the opposite knee, Joshua met David’s eyes. “Jason and Ana are twins who’ve done everything together. They never had to look for a date for red carpet events because they always had each other. Since Ana is married and has hinted she wants a baby, Jason is almost forced to find someone to step in and replace her. Up until now his life has been rather safe. He’ll date a woman for a little while, but then he’ll drop her because he claims she doesn’t measure up. No woman will ever measure up because my nephew doesn’t know what he wants.”

David’s frown deepened. “You guys have a nasty habit of psychoanalyzing my kids.”

“Josh is right,” Martin concurred. “You and Serena have provided safety nets for your children that Josh and Timothy haven’t. You built a house with enough room for your kids to live there for the rest of their lives. Correct me if I’m wrong, brother. Doesn’t Jason still live at home?”

David crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes. But he’s moving out when—”

Martin put up a hand. “No buts, David. I know Jason plans to move into Ana’s condo when she and Jacob buy a house, and that Jason built a place in Oregon, but he’s still living at home. If your thirty-three-year-old son proves me wrong, then I’ll be the first to apologize, but only after Joshua apologizes,” he teased.

Joshua placed both feet on the priceless rug, rising from his seat. “Oh, hell no. I’m not apologizing. We’ll see come New Year’s who’s right and who’s wrong.” He extended his hand, palm down, and individually each man stood, placing his hand on the top one; then they took turns pounding Timothy’s back, while congratulating him on his son’s upcoming nuptials.

Two down and one to go, and then the winner of the wedding wager would be revealed.

Chapter 1

Phoenix, Arizona

The intercom on Greer Evans’s desk buzzed softly. Unconsciously she reached for the receiver, while at the same time her gaze was fixed on the internal report she’d spent the past hour perusing. “Evans,” she said in her usual greeting.

“The director would like you to come to his office.”

Her eyes shifted to the telephone display. She and the others assigned to the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives’ Phoenix, Arizona, field office attended biweekly meetings in the director’s office where they were brought up-to-date on regional operations. It wasn’t often she was singularly summoned.

“When, Miss Kelly?” she asked the woman who monitored everyone and everything going on at the site.

“He wants to see you now.”

“I’m on my way.”

Greer hung up, coming to her feet and exiting the cubicle where she had spent countless hours since being reassigned to the southwest region. The adjustment hadn’t been an easy one for her. The first thing she’d had to get used to was living in the desert. The dry heat, smog and occasional monsoon were a far cry from the change of seasons she’d experienced in Chicago and Washington, D.C. During the summer months she went directly from the air-conditioned office to the air-conditioned car and then drove to her artificially cooled one-bedroom furnished apartment with picturesque mountain views.

Plus she had to adjust to sitting at a desk. At first it had been difficult but, as the months passed, Greer had come to look forward to not going undercover; she was content to spend the rest of her professional career office-bound until it came time for her to collect her government pension. Why, she mused, was she thinking about retiring when that wouldn’t become a reality for at least another thirty years? At thirty-two, it should be the last thing on her mind.

Greer didn’t want to become cynical about her chosen career path because, after all, her mother had warned her of the pitfalls of undercover work. Her parents had met when both were recruits at the Quantico training facility. Her mother had joined the FBI, and her father had chosen the DEA. Then there was her twin brother. He’d followed in the family tradition of law enforcement when he also had joined the FBI.

She knew her mother, a retired FBI forensic technician, was uneasy each time Greer was selected for an undercover assignment, but she’d sworn an oath to uphold the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic, and those dealing in the sale and transportation of illegal explosives and firearms were enemies. She barely glanced at Sheila Kelly sitting in an alcove outside the field director’s office as she pushed open the door and walked in, realizing Roland wasn’t alone.

“You wanted to see me, Roland?”

Roland Peña’s head popped up. “Yes.” Rays of sunlight coming through windows bathed him in a halo of gold. Smiling, he rose to his feet, indicating the chair facing a sofa. “Please sit down.”

Pushing off a worn leather sofa was a tall pale man in an ill-fitting black suit. Her gaze shifted from the stranger to the man whom she’d grown to respect—unlike her former supervisor who wasn’t above using his power to intimidate his subordinates. Roland was soft-spoken, approachable and well liked by everyone in the regional office.

Her supervisor walked over to the sofa and sat down. “I’d like you to meet special agent Bradley Plimpton. He’s the assistant director of the Seattle Field Division.”

Greer nodded. “Special Agent Plimpton,” she said in acknowledgment. Once she was seated, he sat back down on the couch, one ankle propped on the opposing knee.

Bradley’s coal-black eyes narrowed. Greer didn’t know why, but there was something about the man’s emaciated appearance, black suit and straight raven hair brushed off his forehead that reminded her of caricatures of undertakers.

“I’m sorry to spring this on you without warning, Evans. Your supervisor just approved your transfer to my division.”

She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath as she mentally repeated his last statement. What was Bradley talking about? She hadn’t spoken to Roland about a transfer. Not once since she’d come to Arizona had Greer mentioned to anyone that she didn’t want to live in the desert, that she preferred to see an actual change of seasons. Yet, if she was going to be transferred to the Seattle Field Division, then that meant she would become part of the ATF’s largest geographic division in the country. This transfer could have her living and working anywhere in Washington, Idaho, Alaska, Hawaii, Guam or Oregon.

“Why?”

“We need you to go undercover in Mission Grove.”

Greer leaned forward, the motion seemingly robotic. “Mission Grove?” she repeated.

“Yes, Agent Evans. Mission Grove,” Bradley said, placing both feet on the floor. Clasping his hands together, he sandwiched them between his knees. “We know you spent your childhood summers there with your aunt and uncle. We also know that you still keep in contact with your uncle even though your mother’s sister passed away three years ago.”

“What does that have to do with me going undercover in Mission Grove, Agent Plimpton?” she asked when he paused and stared at the floor.

A beat passed before Plimpton raised his head. “One of our agents was shot near the Mexico-Arizona border during a confrontation with drug smugglers. He managed to kill one of them, and when we recovered their weapons, we were able to trace them back to a man living in the Hood River Valley.”

“Did you interrogate him?” Greer asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“We couldn’t.”

“And why not?” She’d asked yet another question.

“We couldn’t because he died four years ago. What we did find out was that he’d had a break-in at his home the year before he passed away, yet reported nothing missing. We figured whoever broke into his house wasn’t looking to steal money or valuables but his identity. When I ran his name through the federal firearms database, I discovered hundreds of semiautomatic pistols and assault rifles purchased from gun shops in Vancouver, L.A., and as far east as Texas and Tennessee. We also traced at least a half dozen pistols used by several Seattle gangs back to a gun shop burglary in the Hood River Valley. There have also been a string of similar break-ins ranging from Portland to Mission Grove. Whoever is spearheading this operation has probably amassed an enormous arsenal, selling these illegal firearms to drug dealers. The DEA is dealing with the drug problem, but the sale of illegal firearms falls under our jurisdiction. We’ve selected you to identify the person or persons behind this because you’re familiar with the region.”

“What I don’t understand,” Greer said, “is why break into someone’s home to steal their personal information? Why not do it electronically? Cybercriminals do it every day.”

Plimpton shifted slightly when his right hand twitched noticeably. “The man wasn’t online. Whoever stole his identity must have known the victim personally.”

She knew the states that didn’t require a permit to purchase firearms, although many required licenses needed to carry a concealed firearm. Oregon was one of those states. But if someone was buying guns legally, afterward reselling them to those who couldn’t pass background checks, then that had raised a red flag with the ATF.

Greer listened intently when briefed about her new assignment. She would become a waitress at Stella’s. Her uncle, former Special Forces Robert “Bobby” Henry knew she and her brother were federal officers. “Have you told my uncle that I’ll be working at his restaurant?”

Bradley gave her a subtle nod. “Yes. We had to give him clearance because we’re going to use his place for your base of operation.”

Greer exhaled an audible breath. It made her feel better knowing that she didn’t have to lie to her uncle as to why she’d come back to Mission Grove for an extended stay. “When do I leave?”

Roland crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ll have tonight to pack and clean out your apartment. A team of agents from the bureau are flying up to Portland tomorrow morning to join in the search for the three missing kids from a nearby campground. They’ll pick you up at four in the morning for a six o’clock liftoff. Don’t worry about your vehicle. I’ll have one of the agents retrieve it from your apartment building’s parking lot.”

Pushing to her feet, she nodded like a bobble head doll. “I guess I’d better start packing.”

Roland stood and extended his hand, smiling. “You take care of yourself out there.”

She took his hand. “I will.” Walking out of the director’s office, Greer returned to her cubicle. It took fewer than two minutes to fill a cardboard box with her meager accumulation of personal items: a coffee cup, several paperback novels, a crystal heart-shaped paperweight and a miniature cactus plant.

“Going somewhere, Evans?”

Greer nodded. The auditor peering over her partition had a problem processing the word no when she’d told him she didn’t believing in dating her coworkers. But that hadn’t stopped him from seeking her out whenever she ate in the employee lunchroom. “I’m being transferred.”

Harold Browning approached her, his hazel eyes widening in surprise. “When did you find out?”

“Just a few minutes ago.”

Harold’s sandy-brown eyebrows lifted. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

She shifted the box to a more comfortable position as she picked up her handbag. “No, I’m not.”

“Where are you going?”

Greer wanted to tell Harold that she was going far enough away so she wouldn’t have to be annoyed by his persistence. “Portland,” she said instead of Mission Grove. “I have to go.”

Harold looked as if he was going to burst into tears. He ran both hands over his thinning blond hair. “I’m going to miss you, Evans.”

“I’m going to miss you, too, Browning.” She would miss seeing him leaning over the partition to her cubicle to greet her every morning and his puppy-dog expression whenever she chided Harold for asking her out. The CPA was as brilliant as he was annoying. He’d pursued her when he should’ve focused his attention on some of the other single women who’d made it known they were interested in him. Why, she thought, did people always want what they couldn’t have?