Because I Can (Montgomery Manor) Read online

  Because I Can

  By Tamara Morgan

  John “Monty” Montgomery is a workaholic. The oldest of the Montgomery children, he’s been working by his father’s side building the family hotel chain almost his entire life. His commitment to the business leaves no time for romance. But that’s about to change.

  Georgia Lennox has been fantasizing about Monty ever since she started her gig as handywoman at Montgomery Manor. She figures Monty is way out of her league, so she hasn’t dared to act on her feelings—until he offers to help fill a volunteer shortage on her latest project, building houses for families in need.

  Sparks fly as they spend time together, first on the job site, then off. But Georgia’s not your typical frilly and feminine society girl. Hoping to find a way to fit in with the Montgomerys, she agrees to be made over by Monty’s sister for an event. But if she lets her rough edges be smoothed away, will she be letting go of the very thing that attracted Monty in the first place?

  Read about the other Montgomerys in If I Stay and When I Fall, available now.

  102,000 words

  Dear Reader,

  Happy October! I think I’ve mentioned this before, but I love October. Not only is it the month in which my daughter was born (ten years ago!!) but I love the weather, the scents and the activities of October. Everything about the month combines to something fun and transporting for me. Of course, I’m sure not everyone feels the same about this fall month, but I’m happy to say we have a great collection of fiction releases to help aid all of you with fun escapes.

  In the spirit of the somewhat paranormal mood of the month, I’ll start with paranormal and fantasy genres. R.L. Naquin returns with an installment in her quirky, fun, romantic urban fantasy Monster Haven series. With Aegises dying all over the world, the only safe place for Zoey is the protection of home—but hiding doesn’t come naturally for Zoey, and she’ll have to act fast to prevent a zombie apocalypse in Demons in My Driveway. And in Dana Marie Bell’s paranormal romance Of Shadows and Ash, when evil attacks from the shadows, dryad Ashton Ward will be the only one who can save his beloved witchdoctor from eternal darkness.

  Matt Sheehan brings back the ever-lovable Helmut and his sidekick in urban fantasy Helmut Goes Abroad. Another round of magic, fistfights and one-liners with the best, most handsome, and of course humble detective Helmut Haase and his apathetic sidekick Shamus O’Sheagan.

  Futurisic romance In the Void by Sheryl Nantus gives us romance set in space—and a brothel spaceship. Answering a distress call can spell the end of the Bonnie Belle and everyone aboard...

  A dragonshifter intent on executing a high-stakes art heist is forced to juggle a wedding, a family and a pesky attraction to her target’s head of security in paranormal romance ’Til Dragons Do Us Part by Lorenda Christensen. April Taylor’s alternate history fantasy Taste of Treason, the second in her Tudor Enigma series, also releases this month. Master Elemancer Luke Ballard has grown his magical powers since his last encounter with the dark sorcerers who will stop at nothing to destroy the English throne. But is he skilled enough to both protect his own and prevent tragedy from reaching the royal family?

  Moving on to contemporary romance releases in October, the last man that handywoman Georgia Lennox expects to break through her tough-as-nails, ugly-duckling exterior is John Montgomery the Third, the millionaire philanthropist she’s worked for in Because I Can by Tamara Morgan.

  In military contemporary romance His Road Home by Anna Richland, a false engagement story gives injured Special Forces Sergeant Rey Cruz a surprise gift: love. Pitch Imperfect by Elise Alden is a contemporary romance in which the last thing celebrity singer Anjuli Carver wanted was to be dependent on her ex-fiancé to restore her dilapidated manor. Will he rebuild her crumbling walls or demolish her defenses with his sexy pursuit?

  Male/male romance Stand By You by A.M. Arthur is the story of a broken soul who finds solace and safety in the company of a gentle janitor—as well as an unexpected chance at real love.

  Last this month, we’re pleased to welcome co-authors Eileen Griffin and Nikka Michaels with In the Raw, part one of a male/male romance duology about culinary students Ethan Martin and James Lassiter. When they find themselves competing for the same scholarship they also discover they’re competing for something more important—love. Look for part two, In the Fire, next month, in November 2014.

  Coming in November 2014: Carina Press and I both celebrate an anniversary. And we have books from a number of powerhouse authors including Josh Lanyon, Shannon Stacey, Lauren Dane and so many more!

  Here’s wishing you a wonderful month of books you love, remember and recommend.

  Happy reading!

  ~Angela James

  Editorial Director, Carina Press

  Dedication

  For Edie Harris, who makes the best doodles.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  “Who, Monty? He’s a solid ten, no questions asked.”

  Monty skidded to a halt as he prepared to round the corner. It wasn’t a customary habit of his to lurk along the hallways where the Montgomery Manor staff was hard at work, but he’d been feeling a desperate need for caffeine today. He’d also been feeling a desperate need to unchain himself from his desk for a few minutes, so heading down to the basement-level kitchen to refill his cup had seemed as good an excuse as any.

  The eavesdropping was an unexpected perk.

  “A ten? Are you sure we’re talking about the same man? Monotonous Montgomery? Drudgery John?”

  “Absolutely. I’d let him bend me over a table or two.”

  “You’re crazy. Jake is the more attractive brother by far.”

  “Yeah, but you also admitted you like men with those curly mustaches. I think your taste is flawed.”

  Even though Monty knew it behooved him to clear his throat or stomp his feet or otherwise put an end to the conversation currently underway behind the swinging metal doors, he leaned forward, straining to place the voices. If he wasn’t mistaken, the woman with a flair for the hirsute was Holly, the family cook. He had yet to determine who it was that considered him a ten.

  And he really wanted to know. As his all-too-familiar nicknames indicated, women weren’t in the habit of looking at him and visualizing a sex object. He was too old, too boring and much too tightly wound for that—a vintage toy soldier with moving parts. And not the good moving parts either.

  “Jake has that whole naughty-playboy thing going for him,” Holly said. “Or he used to, before he got married.”

  “I know, but Monty is bigger. I like a m
an with some meat on him.”

  “That’s because you’re only sexually attracted to guys who can beat you at arm wrestling, which is like twelve people overall.”

  A robust laugh escaped the kitchen as the pieces fell into place. That sound could only belong to Georgia Lennox—and so could the conversation, now that he thought about it. The owner and operator of the Handywoman Express had never struck him as the type of woman to speak in maidenly euphemisms, and, truth be told, she probably was able to beat most men at arm wrestling.

  His dad had been utilizing Georgia’s services for almost two decades, even though she couldn’t be more than thirty years old. He remembered her as a gangly, toothy kid a few years younger than himself, riding over on her bike with a tool belt strapped across her chest like a bandolier, asking if there was anything she could do around the place to pick up some extra cash. Despite her tender years, she’d gratefully accepted his dad’s request to build a bridge to continue the footpath that stopped at the West Creek.

  And it was a good bridge too—solid oak, a few feet across, still standing to this day. It probably intended to keep standing forever, out of fear she might come at it with a hammer if it didn’t.

  Georgia was scary. In fact, he wasn’t at all convinced he could win against her in an arm-wrestling match. Or that bending her over a table would result in anything but immeasurable bodily harm.

  “I don’t think a few muscles is too much to ask for in a man,” Georgia said, her voice still overloud in its low, deep-throated tone. “It’s impossible to look at someone naked and feel all hot and bothered if he has spindly arms. The T-Rex look isn’t attractive on anyone.”

  “Fine. You can give him his ten. I wish you both very happy.”

  “Oh, no. He’s a solid ten in the looks department, but you have to knock off at least half his points for personality. As soon as I was done, ah, admiring his arms, we’d have to exchange a few words.”

  Monty almost dropped his coffee cup. This was the price of hulking in doorways, listening in where he wasn’t wanted, but all the same he couldn’t prevent the sense of indignation that rose to the surface. He wasn’t that bad. Certainly not a five.

  “Ha! You’re right. He’d probably stare at you for ten minutes before finally offering a few tips for improved performance next time.” Holly lowered her voice in what he assumed was an emulation of his own. “Less tongue, I think, could enhance the experience for both of us.”

  “Is there a reason you kept your eyes open the whole time? I found it quite unnerving.”

  “How would you rate it when I flipped you over and came in from behind? Three stars? Four? Would you consider it a bold move on my part?”

  Bursts of feminine laughter had him sneaking slowly away from the door, fearful lest his footsteps sound in the tiled hallway. He only got about five feet when his back hit something soft and warm, and he spun to find himself face-to-face with Amy—yet another staff member, this one the nanny to his three-year-old half brother and half sister. At least he didn’t have to fear any sexual judgment from the tall, sunny blonde. Cousinship rendered her safe and neutral territory.

  “Oh, hey, Monty.” She lifted her empty coffee cup in a show of solidarity. “Mondays, am I right?”

  He blinked. “Are you right about what?”

  “The daily grind? The need for liquid sustenance? No?” She examined him with pursed lips. “How about this one? I heard they’re making this new caffeinated soap so you can skip the coffee and wash the energy boost right into your skin.”

  It took him a moment to register that she was making small talk, offering those bland bits of conversation that normal people—people who weren’t nicknamed Drudgery John—needed to make it through the day. He studied his cup, where a residual pool of ice-cold coffee sloshed, and decided he could go without a refill. Too much caffeine always made him feel jittery and out of control of himself anyway.

  It would be a bold move on his part to have another one when it wasn’t even eight o’clock yet.

  “I doubt skin absorbs chemical compounds the same way your digestive system does,” he said when it became clear some sort of response was required.

  Amy, a woman he knew to be blithely unconcerned for the social comforts and discomforts of others, somehow interpreted this to mean he wanted more coffee. She grabbed the handle of his cup and brushed past him. “Come on. We’ll go sweet-talk Holly into giving up some of her wakey-wakey juice.”

  Monty did a quick mental calculation and decided it would be less disastrous to follow Amy into the cavernous, glistening metal hull that was the kitchen. At least this way, the other two women would assume he’d come down with his cousin and allow him to save face. There was no reason anyone had to know he’d been shamelessly eavesdropping.

  A ten, dropped to a five for my terrible personality.

  He had no idea how to handle that kind of insult, but his earlier sense of indignation wasn’t abating any now that it had time to settle in. He was a man who paid his taxes on time. He didn’t use foul language in the presence of children. He didn’t even miss appointments unless there was an emergency, since he hated throwing other people’s schedules off.

  Apparently, none of that mattered as much as the ability to parry with words. A man could be a charming serial killer and be more likable than Monty. That was where he ranked on the social hierarchy. Right below people who stored dismembered limbs in their freezers.

  Amy made enough noise as she walked into the kitchen that the conversation came to a halt long before they became visible. From the scene that unfolded before them, it was clear the two women in the kitchen had been enjoying a comfortable chat. Holly always looked as if she belonged in a five-star restaurant—she was the consummate chef from the tips of her plastic clogs to the top of her dark brown hair, pulled back into its customary braid—but for the moment, she was lounging against the counter sipping her own cup of coffee. And Georgia defied explanation most days, so she could have been hanging from the ceiling by a pair of Spider-Man web-slingers, and it wouldn’t have taken him more than a second to adjust. The fact that she was kneeling on top of the stove with her head inside the vent hood, the clank of metal on metal signifying some kind of work taking place, wouldn’t stop her from venturing opinions on the state of his manhood.

  He’d almost never seen Georgia in a state of inaction, since she was always in the middle of some kind of project around the house. He’d also never seen her in anything but the navy blue coveralls and heavy work boots that comprised her self-imposed uniform. A red bandanna knotted above one knee added a touch of adornment, but he knew from experience it would be the only decoration she’d bother with.

  “Hey, Holly. Hey, Georgia. I need some coffee, stat.” Amy strode forward and shook the two empty cups until Holly took them. “So does Monty. He was skulking in the hallway right outside the door. I think he was afraid to face you on his own.”

  Holly turned an alarmed look his way, but it was the echoing laugh of Georgia in the stove hood that arrested him.

  “Skulking?” She poked her head out. As he expected, she wore no trace of makeup or jewelry, her tangled brown curtain of hair pulled back in its invariable ponytail. All of her was invariable. Although she’d grown out of the gangly, toothy stage from her youth, she hadn’t moved an unrecognizable distance from it. Her lips were still thin, her features still prominent, and her complexion bore a windswept ruggedness that would have better served a sea captain or lumberjack.

  She wasn’t beautiful. She wasn’t even pretty. But as the hammer in her back pocket attested, she was more than capable of making do without.

  She grinned, bringing life to her features and making Monty long for the kitchen tiles to devour him whole. “Then it’s good we weren’t talking about anything inappropriate. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable that would make things.”

>   Any chance Monty might have had of playing cool disappeared. One would think that thirty-five years of life on this planet would give a man a certain amount of panache in awkward situations, but one would be wrong. Like a prisoner trapped in solitary confinement, Monty found that the more time he spent on his own, the less panache he was capable of. The less everything he was capable of. Even the Count of Monte Cristo eventually discovered a kindred spirit on the other side of the stone wall to save him from the monotony of his own company.

  Monty’s stone walls kept going forever.

  “I wasn’t skulking.” He couldn’t think of anything that might serve as a reasonable excuse, so he left it there.

  Holly handed his coffee cup back to him, offering it handle-side-out to prevent their fingers from touching. “You didn’t have to come all this way for a refill,” she said uneasily. “I could have sent someone up.”

  “You forget that Monty and I are slaves to our duty,” Amy said. “If we didn’t break away every now and then, we’d become nothing more than drones of productivity.”

  Then, as if realizing a drone of productivity was basically all Monty was, she also fell into an uncomfortable silence.

  That was his cue to leave. He might not always land on the right thing to say, but he did know how to make a timely exit. In fact, one of the best moves he’d made recently as the head of the Montgomery Foundation was handing over the social obligations to his brother Jake. The division of labor worked so well that Monty had been able to sever most of his ties to the real world and hide away in the Manor with only his spreadsheets for company. He’d never been more popular now that no one had to actually interact with him. He even got fan mail sometimes.

  “Thank you for the coffee.” He raised his cup in a gesture of appreciation. “I’ll let you three get back to work.”

  It should have been an easy escape, an only mildly distressing break to his routine, but in this, as in all things, he missed his mark. His comment sounded less like a polite parting and more like a boss jumping on his employees’ backs for standing around talking when they should have been working.