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Authors: Jeannie Moon

Because I Love You

BOOK: Because I Love You
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Praise for Jeannie Moon's novels

“Jeannie Moon always delivers a feel-good, warm-your-heart, can't-stop-turning the pages story!”

—
New York Times
bestselling author Carly Phillips

“Jeannie Moon writes a sweet, sexy escape.”

—
New York Times
bestselling author Jill Shalvis

“Jeannie Moon immerses readers in an emotionally engaging and sexy story of lost love and new beginnings.”

—
New York Times
bestselling author JoAnn Ross

“A sweet, sexy heartfelt debut.”

—
New York Times
bestselling author Virginia Kantra

Also Available by Jeannie Moon

The Temporary Wife

Unexpectedly Yours

The Wedding Secret

The Second Chance Hero

The Boyfriend List

AN IMPRINT OF PENGUIN RANDOM HOUSE LL
C

375 HUDSON STREET, NEW
YORK, NEW YORK 10014

BECAUSE I LOVE YOU

An InterMix Book / published by arrangement with the author

Copyright © 2015 by Jeannie Moon.

Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

INTERMIX and the “IM” design are trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

For more information about The Berkley Publishing Group, visit
penguin.com
.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-40591-2

PUBLISHI
NG HISTORY

InterMix eBook edition / November 2015

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Penguin Random House is committed to publishing works of quality and integrity. In that spirit, we are proud to offer this book to our readers; however, the story, the experiences, and the words are the author's alone.

Version_1

To my lovely editor, Jennifer Fisher.

These stories are yours as much as mine.

Thank you for your vision, your insight and your friendship.

Prologue

Family dramas were like car wrecks. Sometimes you couldn't help but watch, other times you had to get out of the way.

Tristan Wade was never one for scenes, and the Independence Day barbecue at Kylemore East had erupted into a crisis on a grand scale. He was still deciding how he was going to be part of a company like Reliance Software, where there seemed to be no boundary between your business life and your personal life, when all hell broke loose.

Over the years, Tris had become careful about not mixing the two, because trouble could be had fifteen different ways if you did. Now here he was smack-dab in the middle of a gorgeous horse farm in the Hamptons, and there was a runaway bride, feuding business partners, and an ex-boyfriend telling tales about the missing newlywed.

His first instinct was to get away from the ruckus. Taking a walk between the paddocks should have been relaxing, but there was too much noise in his head. Nate Bayard, the CFO of the company, had recently asked him if he'd be interested in buying into the partnership. The two had become friends, sharing a love of horses and polo, and he'd confided in Tris that his heart wasn't in the tech business and he wanted to step back from day-to-day work with the company.

On paper, Tris was a good fit. He had degrees in finance, had international banking experience, and had the money to make the investment in the company. He'd made his first billion before he was thirty, and now at thirty-five he had ten times that amount. But there were a couple of things holding him back, not the least of which was the relationship between the partners. There was tension now, but the fact was the three of them were like brothers, and he didn't know if he'd fit into the mix. Tris also didn't know if he was ready to make a permanent commitment. This move, if he made it, would have him in the States for the duration, and he never saw himself here long-term.

One of the horses trotted over to where he was standing at the fence, snorting and nickering. The big chestnut was obviously looking for some treats. “Sorry, mate,” he said while stroking the horse's soft muzzle, “I'm fresh out.”

“That horse is shameless.” A woman's voice came from behind and startled him, but not as much as discovering it belonged to Leah Bayard, Nate's sister, and one of the reasons Nate's bride took off. There'd been some nasty words exchanged and Leah, who was an attorney, pulled no punches. “C'mere, Harry.”

Reaching into the pocket of her shorts, she pulled out a peppermint, unwrapped it, and fed it to the beast.

“Harry?” he asked.

“Short for ‘Hair of the Dog.' His show name. He's a pain in the ass, but he can jump four and a half feet without even trying.” She stuck out her hand to him. “Leah, bitch of the hour.”

He accepted her hand with a chuckle. “Tristan Wade, confused guest.”

“Family parties are usually a lot calmer. Sorry you got to see the crazy come out. I don't know what I was thinking.”

Going toward the barn, Tristan followed the youngest Bayard sibling. She was a gorgeous creature, slender and taller than average, with porcelain skin and a mass of deep copper-colored curls that tumbled from her hair tie. She looked like
she should be dancing with fairies and wood nymphs in a clearing under a full moon.

Opening the door to a small office, she went into the fridge and pulled out two beers, offering one to him. “Da's stash. He's a good Scot with a weakness for a well-brewed IPA.”

“I agree with your da, nothing like a cold beer on a day like this. Thanks.”

They sipped their beer in silence, with Tris trying to make sense out of the woman in front of him. She had a spray of freckles across her button nose, pink lips, and wore not a stitch of makeup. And damn, when she looked up her eyes were like green fire, emerald with gold flashing in the light. He was half convinced she could cast a spell.

“So what brought you out to the barn?”

He shook his head. “Lots of drama back there. I've spent my life avoiding it.”

Taking a deep pull on the bottle, she shrugged. “When I wreck a party, I do it big.”

He couldn't disagree. There were a lot of uncomfortable people, and the gossip was spreading like wildfire. “You do, but you shouldn't flog yourself over it, there were lots of people thinking the same thing. You know, that she got knocked up on purpose. Hell, Owen and Nate came to blows over it. Owen said exactly what you did, and more.”

“People will always think something,” she started. “But they don't always say it.”

And Leah had said it. Very loudly and very clearly. “Right. That's true, you did. And you are family.”

She laughed—nervously—and a sadness fell over her bright eyes. “I hurt my brother. That's not okay, no matter what I thought.”

She grew quiet again, pulling her sunglasses from the top of her head and covering her eyes. The tears were threatening, and it might be fine to have a drink together, but the woman wasn't about to cry in front of him.

“Come on,” he said.

“Where are we going?” She froze in place, her body strung tight like a bow.

“No worries, love. I don't bite, usually.” That got a smile out of her. “I figure we can drink our beers in peace and you can show me the facility.”

Relaxing, she smiled. “That's a good idea.”

“Perfect, and if you like me well enough, maybe I'll bite you later on.”

She laughed, full and lovely, and Tris thought there might have been music mixed in with the sound.

“I like you fine, Mr. Wade, but there will be no biting.”

“No? Damn. Can't blame a guy for trying.”

“No,” she said. Smiling a real smile that caught him right in the chest. “I can't. Let's go.”

Chapter One

Nothing hindered a quick getaway more than not being able to find your underwear.

Tiptoeing around the dimly lit bedroom, Leah Bayard was getting desperate. She looked all over the floor, under pieces of clothing, under the furniture. It had Leah wondering if she even made it to Tristan's bedroom wearing her thong or if he'd pulled it off when they lunged at each other the minute they walked into his apartment.

No. His hands had worked magic on her when she was shoved against the wall in his living room, but she was definitely wearing her thong when he tossed her on his bed in the most wonderful caveman move. By then, her now missing thong was the only thing she
was
wearing.

The recklessness with which he pulled it off her didn't seem to matter at the time, but now the temperature had unexpectedly dropped to just above freezing, and even though the wisp of black lace was probably the skimpiest thing she owned, it was better than going commando. Leah shivered at the thought, and with her hands on her hips, glanced around the room again. She'd found her bra lying on the coffee table, her dress in a puddle on the floor, and her shoes had dropped off when he'd thrown her over his shoulder . . . but where the hell was her thong?

“Looking for this, love?”

The deep voice that came from behind her filled the room with warm seduction. How did he do that? One word from Tristan Wade, and Leah was a puddle of goo. That was why she was trying to get away without waking him up. She was in a heap of trouble where Tristan was concerned. Since she'd first met him last summer, at the family July Fourth barbecue, the man who was going to take her brother's place at Reliance Software was never far from her thoughts.

His sultry good looks and easy smile made the normally unflappable Leah weak at the knees. When he touched her, whispered in her ear, laughed with her, she was lost in the moment, and Leah didn't have time for lost moments.

That they'd had sex was another problem altogether. Not that the three orgasms he gave her were a problem, but she didn't want a relationship.

And the way he made her feel screamed
relationship
.

“Leah?” There was that voice again, his marvelous baritone enhanced by his cultured British accent.
Sweet Jesus.
And he was right behind her now, his warm breath caressing her neck. “Leaving, are you?”

“Uh, yes. I should go.” She still hadn't turned around. When she did, her gaze would be captured by his deep chocolate-brown eyes and that would pretty much put her right back under his spell. And probably back in his bed. He wasn't like any other man she'd ever encountered. He was strong, commanding, but there was something so gentle and kind about him.

The bastard.

Suddenly her thong appeared in front of her face, held securely by Tristan's fingers. “Here you go.”

Perfect. Turning her face to his, the slow meltdown commenced as soon as they locked eyes. God, he was beautiful. His
bone structure was defined, graceful . . . the word
regal
came to mind every time she took in his face.

Gah.
This was out of control. Time for her to go.

“I'll take that,” she said, snatching the lingerie from his fingers. In a move Leah never would have called attractive, she pulled on her panties, adjusting them under her dress. Certain she looked ridiculous, tugging and wiggling so the thong was in the right position, Leah avoided making eye contact with Tristan again. He got to her. Physically, mentally, the man knew how to push all her buttons.

He made her laugh. He made her think. He challenged her, and at the same time kept her from getting lost in her own head.

Tristan made her forget about the bullshit at work, and the changes taking place with her family. With him, Leah could let all the problems go. He'd become a friend and she wanted to keep it that way.

He didn't take it easy on her, either, didn't let her take herself too seriously. Chances were he was laughing behind her back as she fought with her thong. Just the thought of it made Leah smile.

But the smile turned to a sigh as she felt Tristan's lips touch the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. Heat curled through her, centering low in her belly. “Mmmm.”

The sound came out of her without consciousness or reason. It was betrayal, that's what it was. Her need took over, and self-control went right out the window.

“You smell so good, Leah. Like a garden after the rain. Come back to bed.”

He was so tempting. Too tempting. “I have to go.” It was all she could do to get the words out.

Grabbing her hand as she stood, Tris pulled her back into the bed. “Why? It's six o'clock on a Sunday morning. No work to run off to. There's no reason for you to be sneaking out.”

He threaded his fingers with hers and leveraged himself up, hovering over her. His chin was covered with a villainous scruff and his eyes were dark and playful. But it was the smile—his playful, mischievous grin—that completely did her in.

“Are you going to tell me why you were ready to bolt?”

He wasn't letting it go.

“Uh. I have to go to mass.”

“Mass?” He laughed. “Suddenly devout, are we?”

Leah looked away, because she'd so been caught. Much to her mother's chagrin, aside from Christmas, Easter, and a wedding here and there, Leah hadn't set foot in a church in years.

Tris saw right through her. But hell, she was a lawyer, she could make this case. “Contrary to what you think, I'm not a heathen.”

“I never said you were a heathen. But I think after last night, you might need to do a little more than pray to absolve yourself. It's possible one or two of those things we did might send us straight to hell.”

She laughed in spite of herself. He could be right about that. “I really should go. I didn't plan on staying over.”

“I know,” he replied, dropping a soft kiss on her forehead. “I don't think you planned on any of this.”

“No, I—” Stammering was not her thing, but how did she answer him? She was wickedly attracted to the man, which was the main reason she'd kept her distance. Leah wasn't sentimental, but she was smart. She never made the same mistake twice. “I'd hoped to keep things friendly between us. Sex complicates things.”

Still holding her hands gently, she felt the heat from his naked body seep through her clothes. “It can,” he said as he nipped her chin. “But we're adults. We can remain friends and keep the complications to a minimum.”

In theory, he was right. They were both professionals. Tristan was the new CFO of the tech company her brother and his two best friends took to the stratosphere, and she was a senior associate at one of the most prestigious law firms in New York City. They were smart. Levelheaded. Focused. “So what are you saying? Friends with benefits?”

He raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Why not?”

Why not? It was a good question, and while Leah was never one to sleep around, she'd gone too long without a physical relationship. Tris was the first man she'd been within three years. And it was nice. She liked being with him. They got along well, and the sex was great.

Really great. Like mind-blowing-fall-into-a-sex-coma great.

There was no reason they shouldn't enjoy each other's company. They were two hard-driving, career-minded professionals. The arrangement was perfect if she thought about it. No strings, no drama. But the risk of losing him as a friend if the situation changed was all too real.

“I don't think we should.” She pushed up on her elbows. “This was wonderful. You were amazing, but I don't think it should happen again.”

Tris rolled on his back and groaned. “It's possible you're overthinking this, you know?”

It wouldn't be the first time. “Are you surprised about that? I always overthink, and this thing we did, I'm going to be thinking about it. A lot. But we're not going to do it again.”

“The
thing
we did? You mean the incredible, mind-blowing sex?” Tris laughed when she nodded.

“That would be it.”

“You're insane,” he muttered.

“I know,” Leah whimpered. “Which is another reason you shouldn't want to sleep with me.”

“Well, I do. I like being with you, but I can see this has you really upset, so how about just once more before you go?”

Once more
. A send-off of sorts. Something to remember him by. One more chance to feel his hands and his mouth on her body. To feel him buried inside her. Leah heard herself sigh as she remembered every sensation, every movement, every uttered word.

“Well, beautiful?” His voice was like a breeze on a hot summer night. Deep, rich, and full of dirty promises. “What do you say?”

She didn't even hesitate. “Yes.”

*  *  *

Tristan sipped a cup of strong coffee thinking about the woman asleep in his bed. He'd had a hell of a time convincing her to stay, but he made sure she was glad she did. It was a good thing they were going to keep things friendly. As much as he liked Leah Bayard—and he really did like her—she was a lot of effort.

Argumentative, with a sharp edge he found quite appealing, Tristan had a grand time watching the woman unravel under his touch. For someone who was so disciplined and controlled, Leah made love with absolute abandon, and it was something he would have enjoyed getting used to.

Considering his move to the States had him getting used to all sorts of new things, a beautiful woman would have been a nice addition to the list. But it made sense to keep things platonic, even if he didn't like it. Both of them were so wrapped up in work, a complicated relationship wasn't in the cards. But he found himself thinking about the next time he could see her again. They'd go out as friends, just like they'd been doing for the past two months, but he didn't have to like it.

Tris sipped his coffee and stared out the kitchen window to the street below. Sunday mornings in the city were dead quiet. A few cars came to a stop at the intersection on the corner of his block, and some intrepid runners were pounding the pavement. He was about to check his phone for the time, when, right on schedule, it rang.

“Good afternoon, Mum.” His mother was nothing if not predictable. Every Sunday, without fail, she'd walk from her cottage to services at the church in their village. Then she'd go to the social after, and before heading home, she and her twin sister would go to lunch at the local café to catch up on gossip and complain about their latest ailments.

After arriving home, she walked her Scottish Terrier, Roland, and then called Tristan at two o'clock on the dot. Since that meant it was nine o'clock in New York, there was no sleeping in on Sunday.

“But it's only morning by you, my handsome son.”

“True. It's a splendid day. The leaves are starting to turn.”

“Thank you for the weather report, but if you're ready to experience the change of seasons, you should get out of the blasted city. I can't fathom how you stand it.”

“It's quite nice, if you must know.”

“Bah.” His mother was set in her ways. She'd raised Tristan and his four siblings in their country village. His father had been the headmaster at a small boarding school and his mother was a maths instructor. The family lived in a house on the school grounds and his upbringing was idyllic, but also somewhat isolated. His parents were brilliant people, and had very high standards for their children, but they were homebodies, and Tris and his siblings itched for adventure.

He was the middle, number three of five. Four boys, and then finally his parents had a girl on the fifth try. His two older brothers had opted for military service, his younger brother followed his parents into academia, and his sister was working as a researcher at the British Museum. Tris had broken the mold, studying economics at Oxford and then moving into the world of high finance. It was risky, high pressure, and he loved it. Along the way, he'd picked up his graduate degree, moved
five times to different parts of the world, and was a billionaire by age thirty.

His father had passed two years ago after a long illness, and that's when Tris left the Far East and went back to England. He spent time at home, helping his mother settle into her new cottage, and then moved to London to see where his career might take him next.

He'd wound up with Reliance Software on Long Island, New York, doing some consulting, but things had clicked. Unexpectedly, an opportunity presented itself, and Tris was buying into the business. In a few months he'd be the new CFO and it meant his move to the States was permanent.

His mum was not pleased.

“Tristan? What do you think?”

“I'm sorry.” Damn, he'd drifted off. He
was
tired. “Say that again?”

“Christmas. Were you listening even the slightest bit?”

“It was a late night. I apologize.”

“Hmmm. Out carousing, I suppose. Maybe you need to come home and find a nice young lady to marry. Then you'll start keeping human hours.”

“Mum, the work is what it is. Once I assume the partnership in the software company, it might even worsen.”

“I will never understand you. Always about money.”

There was no denying her observation. He did love to make money. And he'd made a lot of it. Something his parents, who had comfortably settled in academia, never worried about because they never needed much. However, when his father passed, how little they'd saved became a real problem. Luckily, Tris could help, but his mother often forgot that the money that she saw as vulgar bought her cottage, paid for his sister's university tuition, and was going to keep her very nicely in her retirement.

He'd never say that to her. He wasn't that big a prick. He was happy he could do these things for his family, but every time Mum threw a fit about his dedication to his work, he was tempted to remind her exactly who benefitted from it.

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