Taylor Maid
by Tara Lain
Blurb:
He'll marry the maid to get $50 million but a secret could queer the deal.
Taylor Fitzgerald needs a last-minute bride.
On the eve of his twenty-fifth birthday, the billionaire’s son discovers that despite being gay, he must marry a woman before midnight or lose a fifty-million-dollar inheritance. So he hightails it to Las Vegas… where he meets the beautiful maid Ally May.
There’s just one rather significant problem: Ally is actually Alessandro Macias, son of a tough Brazilian hotel magnate. But if Ally keeps pretending to be a girl for a little while longer, is there a chance they might discover this marriage is tailor-made?
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Release Date:
March 1, 2016
Taylor Maid by Tara Lain
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Excerpts
The wall in the elevator held him upright. So much to do—quitting
his job being at the top of the list. The door opened on his floor. Oh well, he
had his time and passion. That he’d give to the kids at the youth centers—not
that anybody could pay the rent with it.
He dragged himself down the hall toward his suite, staring
at the phone that never rang. With his right hand, he grabbed the key card,
looked up, and stopped so fast he might have had rubber shoes on a shag carpet.
Ally stood in front of his suite, leaning against the wall.
He tried not to gasp too loudly. Ally minus the ugly glasses
and in street clothes was a sight to see. Long, slim legs in trim jeans and a
pink checked shirt that set off her pale complexion and bright red hair.
Adorable. Her hips were so narrow and chest so flat, she could have been a boy
but for the high ponytail. A very cute boy. Obviously Taylor’s cock suffered
from gender confusion, because it wiggled, and Taylor did not do girls. “Hi.
You came.”
She nodded but didn’t smile. “You wanted to see me. You’re a
VIP guest, and I’m a maid. Not wise to refuse.”
That wasn’t the best way to start. “I didn’t mean for it to
be a command performance.”
“Oh?” Lasers behind those brown eyes.
Hell, this was his one chance. No time to argue. “Could you
come in for a minute?” He keyed open the door and held it.
Another nod. She crossed in front of him and stopped in the
middle of the entry. He closed the door and pointed toward the living room.
“Please, come on in and sit.”
She paused, then walked into the living room and perched on
the edge of one of the couches. He sat across from her. Jesus, this was hard.
“Uh, you remember that I got a shock while you were here. Bad news, right?”
“Yes. You seemed upset as I was leaving. I hope things have
improved.”
“Not yet, but they could.” He took a deep breath. “Are you
married or attached?”
She stood straight up with her mouth open. He bounded up
opposite her. “Wait. I said that badly. It’s just that I want to make you a
proposal that requires that you not be married and—”
She started walking toward the door.
“No, wait, please.”
She kept walking.
“Ally, will you marry me?”
Okay, that stopped her. She looked over her shoulder, and
her eyes could have been stop signs, they were so huge. “What did you say?”
The words tumbled out. “I’ll give you a million dollars to
marry me.” Well, damn, Mr. Smooth strikes
again. “Please, sit down and let me explain. I know I sound nuts, but I’m
harmless.”
She stared at him and suddenly started to laugh. She
stumbled back and collapsed on the couch. “Okay, I confess, there’s not the
slightest chance I could walk away and not hear the rest of this story.” She
held up a hand. “But keep your distance in case you’re as crazy as you sound.”
“Can I get you something to drink?”
She glanced at a serviceable-looking watch on her arm.
“Sure, I’m off the clock. I’ll have a beer.”
Taylor used the trip to the service kitchen to take a
breath. He hadn’t quite thought this through. She was right. He must sound
crazy. Damn, he wasn’t too bad with men. Being with a female was throwing him
off. Or maybe it was being the one who needed something. In business he was
powerful enough and wealthy enough to always be on an even footing. Now he was
a beggar. The cute maid held all the cards. Time to put on his poker face.
He grabbed beer bottles from the fridge, opened them, and
poured into two glasses. For a guy he would have skipped that step. Carrying
the beer, he walked back into the living room. She was sitting forward, elbows
leaning on her knees, staring sideways at the view of the thousands of lights.
Her profile, with its high-bridged nose and strong cheekbones, was etched
against the softly lit room. Pretty.
“Here you go.” He extended the glass, and she took it.
“Thanks.” She took a long drink. Cleaning rooms must be
thirsty work.
He sat opposite her and took his own sip. “Okay, here’s the
deal. I live in San Francisco. My family has money, and I work in the family
business. My grandfather, who started the business, died a number of years ago,
and my father now runs it with a lot of help from me.”
“Don’t you have a board of directors?”
Taylor glanced up. That wasn’t the question he’d expected.
“Uh, yeah. We do, but it’s a privately held firm, so all the directors are kind
of figureheads who report to my father.”
“I see.”
Did she? “Anyway, I just found out—” He glanced at his watch.
“—a few hours ago, that the inheritance my grandfather left me came with
unusual strings attached. My father hid this from me.”
“Why? He wanted the money for himself?”
“Exactly. What he didn’t tell me was that I have to be
married by my twenty-fifth birthday in order to collect the inheritance.”
She raised an eyebrow. They were a lot darker than her
bright hair. “Daddy has been a very bad boy.”
Were all maids this savvy? “Yes. The problem is my birthday
is tomorrow. In other words, it starts at midnight tonight.”
“Wow.” She frowned. “Do you have to be married by your
birthday or on your birthday?” She took another mouthful of beer.
“The will said by
my birthday, and I can’t talk to the lawyer who drew it up to determine the
meaning, because he’s on my father’s side.”
“Holy crap.”
Taylor grinned. “Yeah.”
“How come you let that happen? I thought you were so good in
business.”
He almost laughed. Who was she? Bill Gates? Instead he
sighed. “When my grandfather died, I was an eighteen-year-old kid busy trying
to figure out his sexuality. I loved him, and his death broke my heart. I
didn’t have any energy to protect myself from my father.”
“I’m really sorry.” She sipped. “So, easy. You call a woman
you know, ask her to marry you, and tell her she gets a cut.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
She looked around. “So where is she?”
“Remember when I got the upsetting phone call?”
“Yes.”
“That was me finding out that the woman I was planning to
ask had been in an accident and isn’t coming.”
“Oh dear.”
“Yes.”
“So call another girl.”
“I did. You.”
By the
time Taylor pulled into the parking garage at his condominium, his skin felt
too tight in a lot of places, most of them below the belt. Ally had spent the
whole drive alternately stretching out his long legs in their heels and pulling
them up under him, showing off yards of bare, smooth, hard man flesh from ankle
to hip. Taylor had never known he liked men in drag, but Jesus, his tastes
seemed to form around everything Alessandro. The guy simply turned him on. He’d
done it as a woman, and now, as a man in woman’s clothing, he made Taylor want
to commit lewd acts in public places—like the side of the freeway. And he
seemed oblivious to his effect on Taylor, which only added to the allure.
Watching
those same long legs striding down the hall in front of him made Taylor
seriously glad he had a coat to cover the telephone pole in his pants. Ally
waited at the door for Taylor to open it. He needed to get him a key.
As
Ally walked in, he glanced back. “How soon do they want to do the questioning?”
Taylor
closed the door. Could he take off his coat, or would the fire stick still
show? “Smith just said ‘soon.’ If I know Laughton, he wants to give us as
little time to prepare as possible.”
“So we
better start practicing.” Ally unwrapped the belt and slipped Taylor’s coat off
his shoulders. As Taylor hung it in the hall closet, Ally walked into the open
living room, ass swaying in the clingy knit.
Blast off. Taylor’s cock leaped, and his
brain fried. “Ally?”
“Yes?”
He looked over his shoulder in a move so unconsciously flirtatious, he should
have been spanked, and that sounded like way too good an idea.
“Are
you gay?”
That
deep, sultry laugh rumbled through his padded chest. “Are you kidding?”
“So
your father wants you to marry—”
“A
woman. Wealthy and influential. The type who can do good for the family and
persuade his son out of his perversion at the same time.”
“No
wonder you ran.”
“Yes.
Can you imagine living such a life? Not only married to a member of the wrong
sex, but one you don’t even know or like?” He shuddered.
“You
didn’t know me.”
His
lips curved. “True. But I was desperate—”
Taylor’s
stomach sank.
“And I
liked you immediately. Instinctively.” He kicked off his shoes, sighed, and
picked them up. “Besides, I thought you were hot.” With a twitch of that
infernal butt, he walked down the hall.
Taylor
gasped for breath. Hot? He thinks I’m
hot? Ripping at his tie and unbuttoning his shirt at the same time, he ran
to his room, threw his clothes on the bed, and pulled on the sweats and T-shirt
he liked to sleep in. Hot. He thinks I’m
hot.
Okay, get some control.
In
through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the—bullshit!
About the Author
Tara Lain writes the Beautiful Boys of Romance in LGBT erotic romance novels that star her unique, charismatic heroes. Her first novel was published in January of 2011 and she’s now somewhere around book 23. Her bestselling novels have garnered awards for Best Series, Best Contemporary Romance, Best Ménage, Best LGBT Romance, Best Gay Characters, and Tara has been named Best Writer of the Year in the LRC Awards. In her other job, Tara owns an advertising and public relations firm. She often does workshops on both author promotion and writing craft. She lives with her soulmate husband and her soulmate dog in Laguna Beach, California, a pretty seaside town where she sets a lot of her books. Passionate about diversity, justice, and new experiences, Tara says on her tombstone it will say “Yes”!You can find Tara at
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