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  Copyright

  Unlikely Love Story

  Copyright © 2016 by Nancy Adams.

  All right reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author of this book.

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

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  Published by: Nancy Adams

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  COPYRIGHT

  BOOK ONE

  BOOK TWO

  BOOK THREE

  ALSO BY NANCY ADAMS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  BOOK ONE

  MARIE'S MAN

  Chapter One

  My left eye started to twitch as I attempted to mentally digest what the stocky police officer in front of me was saying. He was just doing as I’d asked, filling me in on all the sordid details, albeit in a nonchalant manner. I found his manner offensive, irrationally so, but my emotions were everywhere. I couldn’t really control them. It just bothered me that he seemed so unfazed while I felt that my life was falling apart. I shook my head, refusing to believe what he was telling me, and I willed my eye to just stay calm. Despite my best efforts though, I couldn’t stop it from jumping up and down randomly, and if it weren’t for the fact that I was already at my lowest, I’m pretty sure I would have been dying of embarrassment right then and there.

  It always began to twitch when I was under extreme emotional stress. But that wasn’t the worst of it—I was pretty sure I was only seconds away from fainting as well. I felt the room spinning a little and I blindly reached out and grabbed a chair and lowered myself into it, not caring that my beautiful silk designer dress (which had recently arrived from France) was getting wrinkled and probably stained by the dust and grime that covered the chair where I had to rest my backside.

  “Ma’am? Are you okay? Your eye is jumping kind of funny.”

  I tried to keep a hysterical giggle from bursting past my lips as I cupped a hand over my offending eye and regarded the stocky officer who had just arrested my husband. No, actually, not my husband. He wasn’t legally my husband because he was already legally someone else’s husband. In fact, from what the officer was telling me, my husband had at least five other wives. Boy, did I know how to pick them.

  I took my time answering. After all, what was the rush? The officer continued to stare at me as if I were some sort of madwoman. He seemed to be the only person working in the small police station where we were seated. The desk in front of me was old and rusty, and I was afraid to touch it given that I hadn’t had a tetanus booster shot in years. I made a mental note to check on that as soon as this whole incident was behind me. I was so tense that I could feel my shoulders and spine hurting. I tried to get comfortable in the small chair, but it squeaked and was slightly off balance, making me assume that if I moved too much it would give under my weight. Apparently I needed to go on a diet too, I thought to myself, now sinking into a deeper depression. However, being the proper lady that I was, I wasn’t going to let the sheriff see that I was only one second from a mental breakdown.

  “I’m fine, sir. It’s just my eye. It does funny things when I’m stressed. I guess it has a mind of its own,” I said in what I hoped was a reassuring voice.

  “Like an eye twitch?” he said trying to see between my fingers to stare at it. I placed my hands in my lap and entwined my fingers tightly.

  “I guess. So, umm, am I free to go?”

  As I waited for him to answer, I felt like this was some sort of out-of-body experience. I still couldn’t get over what was happening. This happened to other people. Fictional people on prime-time TV. It had already been an hour since I had arrived at the tiny police station where I had insisted on being brought after a deputy had abruptly walked in in the middle of my wedding rehearsal party and had asked to speak with me. I should have known when Kenneth jumped up and started running to the door that something was up, but I had simply stared at him with my mouth formed in a perfect O while the cop chased behind him, right out of the lovely hotel’s antique doors.

  I sat there in shock and then jumped up and chased after the cop. I felt stupid in my ridiculous silk ball gown as I hightailed it through the heavy wooden doors and came to an abrupt stop. I realized belatedly that my friends and family had followed behind me and had gathered around as we all watched the cop tackle Kenneth to the garden floor and then immediately start to read him his rights.

  I went down the stairs that led to the garden and demanded to know what was going on. My two best friends, Sarah and Libby, followed behind me, and the rest of my family, including my great granny, followed them. Hence, they all heard the officer’s words and gasped collectively as he told me the news that I never expected to hear.

  “Kenneth isn’t who you think he is, ma’am. He’s a con artist. He’s been married at least five times in the continental U.S.”

  I shook my head in confusion. “That can’t be true…”

  “Don’t listen to him honey. He’s a liar!” Kenneth snarled.

  “I suggest you close your mouth, Mr. Lacroix.”

  “Officer, you have the wrong man. This is Kenneth Baker. He’s a hedge fund manager. He’s not a con artist.”

  “Ma’am, I need you to move out of the way.”

  “But—”

  “Ma’am, that’s an order.”

  “Marie, maybe you should listen,” Sarah said softly, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the way of the cop who was dragging Kenneth away. Kenneth was covered in dirt, tulips and grass, and he looked positively enraged. Libby stood on the opposite side of me and frowned before saying in a somber voice that did nothing to make me feel better, “Let’s just give the officer room. I don’t want him to arrest us, too. We’ll get this all figured out.”

  * * *

  But Libby was wrong. It didn’t get all figured out. The cop dragged a kicking and cursing Kenneth to his patrol car. I hadn’t heard such foul language since I’d watched a football game with Kenneth last January. At one point I thought Kenneth was going to bolt again, but the stocky cop easily grabbed him around the collar of his very expensive tuxedo and tossed him in the backseat as if Kenneth weighed less than a toddler’s ragdoll. Kenneth glared at the cop through the window, and I could hear him yelling, “I’m innocent! I’m innocent!” as the cop went to get in his patrol car.

  “Officer wait a minute. Wait. Pl
ease,” I said, grabbing hold of the car door before he could leave. “Where are you taking him?”

  “To jail,” the cop said automatically.

  “No kidding,” I said sarcastically, but when the cop gave me a mean look, I quickly changed my tune.

  “Can I come along?” I squeaked out, feeling contrite.

  “You can meet me at the station,” he said reluctantly.

  I smiled gratefully at him, and as he drove away, I turned to look back at my guests. They had all turned to stare at me, no one knowing what to say. My family was the reserved type. They didn’t do scenes, loudness or public displays of affection, or public displays of any emotion, really.

  “Ummm…I guess you should go then,” my granny said solemnly, and I nodded. My father and mother remained silent. Their eyes showed shock and shame. I looked down at the ground, feeling terrible for the embarrassment I’d caused them.

  “Yes. I guess I’ll be going. Umm…excuse me.” I walked to the parking lot in front of the hotel and went to the car that Kenneth and I shared, only to remember that he had the keys in his pocket. I swore in exasperation, ready to cry, when a hand had touched my shoulder reassuringly.

  “We’ll drive you.” It was Sarah, with Libby standing close by.

  “Thank you,” I said, softly holding back sniffles.

  In the silence of the car ride to the station, I tried not to cry. Unfortunately, it didn’t work, and by the time we reached the station I was hiccupping from the force of my sobs. At one point, Sarah and Libby had both turned around to look at me in the back seat as if I were some sort of alien, given that I rarely cried.

  “It’ll be okay, Marie,” they assured me.

  I shook my head. “No. You don’t understand. It won’t. If all the cop said about Kenneth is true, then I’m in deep doo-doo, because we already eloped.”

  * * *

  As I sat holding my eye, I tried to focus on the officer’s words instead of the events that had led up to this insane moment. I couldn’t deny it. He had shown me the rap sheet. My husband was actually Philip Lacroix, born and raised in Lake Charles, New Orleans. Kenneth was just one of many aliases. He was apparently wanted across Europe, and the cop suspected he had also been busy across South America, but no one had reported him there yet. He normally preyed on rich older women, but couldn’t pass up the opportunity to swindle me as well when he met me at a party and I guess overheard me speaking about the trust fund my granny had recently gifted me. It had been quite a large sum, and I had foolishly given a portion of it to Kenneth. It had been over a million dollars, for him to invest in the pharmaceutical company that he had just bought.

  According to the officer though, there wasn’t a pharmaceutical company. Kenneth didn’t even have a job, and he had planned to run off with the rest of my money as soon as our wedding license arrived in the mail. I shook my head at my naiveté.

  Philip Lacroix had conned me good. He had convinced me to do something rash and romantic and had convinced me to elope even though I had been planning our wedding for months. I had thought he was just eager to marry me. I didn’t know he planned to leave before we even had our official wedding. He knew the cops were closing in, and Philip had wanted me to be his last score; at least, that’s what the officer told me. He also told me that most likely my great-granny’s money was gone. The best news of today was that I was technically not married, since Philip was already married. So given that we weren’t legally married, I wouldn’t have to worry about filing for divorce or any of that other legal business. I wasn’t worried about that, though. I knew my parents’ lawyer would handle it.

  Nevertheless, I felt a massive headache coming on and I could feel my eye twitching again. Things weren’t looking good, and I changed my mind about leaving. I wanted additional details.

  “So, my money?”

  “Gone or in an offshore account.”

  I gulped. “That was my inheritance.”

  “I’m sorry,” the officer said, and I looked up at him and realized that he actually meant it. He had floppy bangs that fell across his face, and his mouth was drawn into a tight line as he regarded me. I wondered what he saw as he looked at me. I knew I must have looked a bit of a mess, and I was now slightly embarrassed by my initial reaction. I smoothed my hair away from my face and straightened my back, determined to leave the station with some dignity.

  “I guess we’re done here then?”

  “Yeah.”

  I stood up stiffly and walked slowly out of the station that was nothing more than a small building that resembled a long trailer. Libby and Sarah stood there waiting for me. I couldn’t help but feel relieved that no one in my family had bothered to come over. I didn’t want them to see me break down, and I was sure that was next for me.

  “Hi,” I said softly, trying to fight back the tears. Sarah seemed to be struggling with doing so as well. She was by far the most sensitive of all of us.

  We three had been friends since high school. Sarah and I had attended Worthingham Academy, a private high school that catered to children from affluent families. Sarah had been on academic scholarship, and I met Libby through her. My father had been the headmaster at that time, so I attended the Academy for free. Despite my father’s position, I had the hardest time making friends. I wasn’t exactly been a social butterfly. Back then, I was painfully shy and highly self-conscious. I rarely initiated conversations with my peers, because I was so socially awkward. As a result, I went out of my way to avoid most of the students, too painfully aware of my own sensitive nature to risk ridicule. To most of the other kids, I came across as cold, a snob. In school, the other students had whispered and teased me, asking me if I was dying of frostbite since I was so cold. Their words hurt more than they knew, and it made me withdraw even more, which again came off the opposite way, and I was accused of thinking that I was better than everyone else. Sadly, I had felt the exact opposite.

  I remembered that because of the constant mocking, I had gotten to a really low point in my life, so low in fact that I had started stealing my mother’s sleeping pills to get through the day. They didn’t make me feel sleepy. They just made me feel numb, so the mocking and bullying didn’t hurt me. When I thought back to the day I met Sarah, I realized that she had probably inadvertently saved my life.

  I had been standing in the bathroom with a bottle of my mother’s pills in my hand. I had stolen them from the medicine cabinet in her bathroom. I just stood there with them in my hand, looking at my face in the mirror. I would never forget that day. When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see the beautiful ice girl that everyone else saw. Despite my almond-shaped, dark brown eyes, flawless skin, heart-shaped face and model-like thinness, I felt ugly. I felt hopeless. I remembered staring at my reflection and just seeing someone who was in pain. An only child of two very busy and hands-off parents, I hadn’t had anyone to turn to and felt I couldn’t go to my parents. They didn’t do weakness well. It was too “middle class” as far as they were concerned. Also, I didn’t tell my father, because I was scared of retribution and I didn’t want anyone to think I received preferential treatment because Father was the headmaster.

  I had pushed my long black hair away from my face, and with shaking hands I attempted to open the pill bottle. It fell to the floor, and I cursed as I bent down to retrieve it and heard what sounded like a bark.

  I thought I was truly losing my mind and was hallucinating, but then I heard it again. It was a small yelp, and it was coming from the stalls. It was then that I saw its tail, peeking out from the bottom of the stall before whoever was there snatched it back up.

  In shock, I said, “Do you have a dog in there?”

  No one said a word, so I slowly stood up and hesitated before knocking on the stall door and stepping back, saying in a loud whisper, disbelief in my voice, “I’m sorry, but, ummm, is that a dog?”

  “You’re not going to tell, are you?” a voice even softer than mine with lightly accented English asked me.
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  “No,” I said, beyond curious.

  It was then that the person inside the stall opened it. She was a brunette like myself, but her hair hung in greasy, tangled pieces, almost concealing her large eyes, a shade of green I’d never seen before. I wondered then if she wore colored contacts. Besides the arresting color of her eyes, her height was also noticeable. She was so tiny, I thought to myself. She was under five feet tall and had to have weighed under a hundred pounds. She was petite, but proportional. I couldn’t help think she could be a real knockout if she did something to her hair and cleaned the dirt from under her nails.

  She had paw prints up and down her school uniform, and it was then that I saw the puppy in her ragged backpack. Its leg had fallen through a hole, and I could see its tail wagging so hard that it made the backpack go back and forth as if the inanimate canvas now had a mind of its own. And then, finally, it popped its head out, and it was the ugliest little dog I’d ever seen. Even though it was covered in mud, I could tell it was missing hair and had wrinkles in odd places. I instantly fell in love.

  “May I hold him?

  “Um. Not here. Someone could walk in, and who knows what will happen to Wally then…” The girl looked around nervously.

  I instantly felt stupid for asking. She was right, and I blushed in embarrassment. Why had I asked such a stupid question? As a teenager, I was super critical of my own awkwardness and tended to internally admonish myself for every perceived failure.

  “I have to get her out of here. You’re Marie, right? Your dad pretty much owns this school; you must know a secret way out. Tell me you do, because if I get caught with Wally, I’ll probably be suspended or something.”

  She was right. My dad was very much a hard-nosed disciplinarian. And even though he was fond of dogs, I didn’t think he would take kindly to seeing Wally, as the girl had called her, on campus.