Josh's Fake Fiancee (Military Men Book 5) Read online

  JOSH’S FAKE FIANCÉE

  Shelley Munro

  Military Men #5

  Table of Contents

  Introduction

  Note to Readers

  1 – Josh Receives His Fake Fiancée Assignment

  2 – The Stalker Makes A Move

  3 – Undie-Gate

  4 – Sweet Temptation And Visible Panty Lines

  5 – Chocolate Biscuits And Good News

  6 – Sexy Lingerie

  7 – Recalling The Past

  8 – Extra Protection

  9 – Politics And Danger

  10 – Seduction And Sin

  11 – Not Scared Enough

  12 – Soaring In The Polls

  13 – The Date With Mr. Right

  14 – Booby Trap

  15 – A Rainbow Success

  16 – Sex Tapes And Shenanigans

  17 – Putting Out Fires

  18 – Things Get Much, Much Worse

  19 – A Clue

  20 – Election Night

  21 – Danger Stalks Into The Celebration

  22 – The Real Deal

  23 – Eloping To Fiji

  Excerpt – Protection

  Excerpt – Enemy Lovers

  About Shelley

  Other Books By Shelley

  Copyright Page

  Introduction

  A fiancée fabrication might just save her life…

  Ever since she was a five-year-old with pigtails, Ashley Townsend has dreamed of becoming the prime minister of New Zealand. Now, with a career in politics, she’s well on the way to achieving her goal until a stalker threatens her life.

  Josh Williams is taking time off after retiring from the military. A favor for a soldier friend? No problem. A pretend engagement? Okay, it’ll allow him to assess his future. Hands-off? Sure, he’ll treat Ashley like a sister.

  After his first glimpse of his temporary fiancée, Josh admits he’s in trouble, and suddenly this easy assignment is a mite trickier. Soon Josh is dealing with the stalker, protecting his sexy and smart fiancée, and his heart is on the line. The press is asking nosy questions, the gap between pretense and reality is blurring, and Josh is wondering if granting his friend this favor is such a bright idea.

  You’ll love this romantic suspense because it features an intelligent heroine and a protective soldier determined to keep his lady safe. Oh, and a little of New Zealand politics for spice and seasoning.

  Note to Readers

  Politics in New Zealand is different than in other countries. Please keep this in mind while reading this romance.

  Our two main political parties are Labor and National. Labor falls center-left, supporting social equality while National falls center-right. In truth, there is not a huge difference in their policies and beliefs.

  We do not have an ultra-conservative party with any great power. On the whole, scandal or dirty politics is uncommon. If a person has made a mistake in the past and has admitted to and paid for their mistake, most New Zealanders are fair-minded enough to give them the benefit of the doubt. We believe in second chances for those who have earned them.

  Our current prime minister lived with her fiancé and had a baby during the first year of her three-year term in office. The public barely blinked at this while I believe this situation might cause huge upsets in other countries.

  To date, we have had three female prime ministers, which is fitting since New Zealand was the first country to give women the right to vote.

  One final thing—it’s quite common for a group of friends to have different political affiliations yet still remain good friends. Differences in political opinions seldom causes problems or confrontational comments.

  If you have any questions, please feel free to email me via my website.

  Happy reading,

  Shelley Munro

  1 – Josh Receives His Fake Fiancée Assignment

  Ashley Townsend parked her car, switched off the ignition, and sucked in a shaky breath. Then she followed her soldier brother’s curt reminder to take stock of her surroundings. Her gaze ran over the brick walls of her Labor party office in Manurewa, Auckland, and the pots of red and white petunias purchased to make the ugly building more welcoming. Three other cars sat near hers in the tiny parking lot behind the office, and she recognized each of them.

  A light shone from the office reception area, piercing the early morning shadows with a welcome glow. Ashley’s breath hissed out, and she peeled her fingers free of the steering wheel. An uneasy laugh filled her vehicle interior.

  Those letters.

  The sense of someone watching her…

  After another quick scan of the vicinity, she gathered her laptop, a fat purple folder, and her black handbag.

  Time to get her crazy-busy day started. The campaign trail waited for no one since the election loomed in four weeks. With the way the Labor party—her chosen political affiliation—trailed the incumbent National party in the polls, she required every day, every minute, every second to sway voters.

  New Zealand used the mixed-member proportional method or MMP system, where each voter received two votes: one for a party—any of ten this election—and one for a politician who stood in the voter’s region. This meant the smaller parties nipped at their heels too, jockeying to earn five percent or more of the votes. Any party reaching this milestone gained a parliamentary seat and, with it, influence for three years until the next election. She couldn’t afford to slack or to take a break to deal with her personal life.

  Ashley exited her vehicle, locked it, and darted to the rear entrance she and the staff used. As per Matt’s lectures, after her mother and father had tattled, she kept focused. Two parked vehicles near the mini-mart across the road. One driving down the main road. Not stopping. Probably another worker starting their job at six-thirty in the morning. People lurking in the carpark. Nil.

  Her pulse raced, faster than average, and didn’t slow until her hand settled on the doorknob and she stepped into the coffee-tinged atmosphere of her constituent office.

  “Good morning,” she called out.

  “Morning, boss,” Robert, her right-hand man, returned in a rumbly bass. He was two years older than her twenty-eight. Solid and dependable. His black hair and well-trimmed beard gave him a scholarly-look, but he was a keen runner and played soccer for a local team during the weekend.

  “Hi, Ashley,” their young political hopeful chirped. With her restless fidgeting and bright-eyed enthusiasm, Carrie reminded Ashley of a young puppy, eager and excited to explore the world. Her thick brown curls, frizzy from Auckland’s humidity, reinforced the puppy metaphor.

  “Good morning, Ashley. How did the dinner meeting with the business leaders go?” Sheryl held a volunteer position, but her many years of experience and marriage to a senior Labor politician, plus her commonsense smoothed the edges of most emergencies.

  “They listened to my speech detailing what we intend to do in the business arena, and I answered their questions without a hitch. My study paid off. I think it went well. Robert?”

  He gave a brisk nod. “Your answers came across as thoughtful and honest. Even better, you didn’t promise what we can’t deliver. Capital gains tax will be a problem. It’s a mistake to campaign on this issue. We’re better to win the voters over with social policy.”

  Ashley sighed, tired of the subject and helpless to change her party’s stance. “I hear you, but Geoffrey is the party leader. His say is final.”

  “He’s making a mistake, and the polls confirm this. The voters want change. We’ll remain the opposition party if we don’t alter the way we’re attacking this campaign.”

>   “Geoffrey deserves our loyalty,” Ashley said, her tone even and polite rather than the snappish chiding her instincts propelled her to unleash. “Is there much mail?”

  The words, meant to distract him, pushed her heartbeat into a rapid bang-bang-bang. A chill raced down her spine while she waited for his reply.

  “The normal stuff. I’ve dealt with what I can and written post-it notes for each piece.”

  Relief had her knees wobbling beneath her black trousers. “I’ll deal with the mail before we head out to our breakfast meeting. Is there anything else requiring my attention?”

  “A few letters from constituents. I’ve added them to the mail pile.”

  Ashley nodded. “If I don’t emerge by seven-thirty, tap on my door. That’s the latest we can leave for the union leaders’ meeting.”

  She hustled to her office and stepped inside. It held a modest wooden desk, two comfortable chairs for visitors, and modular shelving full of books for research. A painting by her mother adorned the wall—a scene of Auckland Harbor and Rangitoto Island, the dormant volcano that dominated the city panorama. Although she often left her door open, today she required privacy to pull herself together.

  After speaking to her parents and brother, she’d reported the threatening letters to the police. Unfortunately, they couldn’t do much, although they’d make their presence known whenever she attended outdoor events, which she appreciated. The truth—her brother had scared her silly with his security lecture and his list of rules. She was jumping at every strange noise, acting the ninny in public.

  This had to stop.

  Ashley’s fight to retain her parliamentary seat required focus. Determination.

  When she was five and wore her hair in pigtails, she’d told her parents she intended to be the queen of New Zealand. They’d pointed out the job was taken, so she’d decided the position of prime minister might be okay. Now, years later, her ambitions hadn’t veered from her chosen course. She dreamed of following other strong New Zealand women who’d claimed the ultimate power and run the country. Women who’d effected change.

  This…this stalker was derailing her plans. She checked her watch and gasped. He or she—whichever sex her stalker claimed—would also make her late. Her days were jam-packed as it was, and she couldn’t afford to waste time jumping at shadows.

  It was time for her big-girl panties.

  Ashley dumped her folder and laptop on the desktop and got to work. Robert was excellent at his job, and each letter had suggestions for action. Some she agreed with while others, she let her opinion govern her final decision. Her rule about touching each piece of correspondence once helped her to plow through a pile of work. Next, she scanned the letters ready for her signature. Even though she trusted the staff, she always read each reply before adding her name.

  The final one gave her pause, as did the original letter attached to the one Robert had drafted.

  Dear Ashley, do you remember me from school? She scanned the request, her throat tight and a heavy weight pressing on her chest. Although a woman—someone called Felicity Barrowman—had signed the letter, the penmanship brought to mind her brother’s masculine scrawl. Every instinct, jogged by the similarity in the writing, told her the writer was a man, and he was making his next move.

  This man was her stalker.

  * * * * *

  “Frog, I got your email. What’s up?”

  It was early evening in Eketahuna, and Josh Williams lay in a hammock in his parents’ rear garden, having a beer and relaxing after a day of farm chores. Two weeks ago, he’d left his New Zealand Special Air Service military duties and the army for good, and now he was at a loose end with no clue of what came next. He was spending his days helping his older brother Dillon and taking care of his father’s farm while his parents took the vacation his mother had dreamed about for years. They arrived home tomorrow, and it was time for him to find his adult boots and determine his next life chapter.

  “I need a favor.” Frog’s face wavered on the screen from interference. Expected, given his friend was calling from Afghanistan.

  “No problem.” Josh never hesitated. Matt Townsend was affectionately known as Frog because of his love of karaoke. He sang as often as possible but badly, hence the nickname. Frog was a fellow soldier and a member of the NZSAS team that both Josh and his brother Dillon had belonged to before taking retirement.

  “My sister needs help.” Frog’s face etched into worry.

  Josh sipped his beer and frowned, pulling one of Frog’s family photos to mind. “Which one?”

  “Ash, the youngest one.”

  “The politician?” He dug through his memories again and recalled a blurred photo of a woman wearing a cap and gown at a university graduation.

  “Yeah. Ashley has acquired a stalker. She’s reported the problem to the police, but they can’t do much. It’s bloody frustrating being stuck in Afghanistan and unavailable to help. This stalker has scared her, and Ash normally owns confidence.”

  “How can I help?” Josh asked.

  “I need you to take charge of her security.”

  Josh blinked but agreed. “Sure, I can do that. Where is she? Christchurch? Mum and Dad arrive home tomorrow so I can catch a flight the day after.”

  “Wait. Damn,” Frog muttered after a background shout. “I have to go. I need you to pretend to be her fiancé.”

  “Fiancé?” Josh spluttered.

  “Yeah, but Josh, do not under any circumstances fuck with her. She’s my baby sister, and you keep your hands off. Promise?”

  “Wait, what?” His hearing was off. “You did say her fiancé?”

  “Yeah, I’ll email later with more details. It needs to be a convincing performance, otherwise you won’t be able to stay close to Ash. Hands off my baby sister or I will take action. Got it? Will you do it? Watch over her?”

  “Wait! You’re certain you want me?”

  “I don’t trust anyone else. Hands off, remember?”

  “Details,” Josh prompted.

  “As soon as we get back,” Frog promised. “Maybe two hours.”

  “Frog!” someone roared in the background.

  “Gotta go,” Frog said. “Remember your promise, or I’ll bloody your pretty face the first chance I get. I’ll check in again soon.”

  “Yeah, man. Stay safe.”

  The call disconnected, and the screen turned black. Josh closed the app on his phone, appalled and terrified at his friend’s request. Had Frog been playing him? Nah, his mate never joked about his family.

  Well, he’d wanted something to do. He’d wait for details and go from there.

  His phone rang. “Yeah?”

  “Ella and I are coming into town for dinner. Meet us at the pub?” Dillon asked.

  “What time?”

  “Seven suit you?”

  “I’ll see you there.”

  Three hours later, Josh walked into the pub, and after getting a beer, claimed a table. His brother ambled inside with his arm curved around Ella’s waist, their heads close together. Ella patted his cheek, and Dillon laughed at their private joke.

  Josh took pleasure in his brother’s happiness, and he genuinely liked his new sister-in-law. Ella had pink hair today, although the color changed from week-to-week. Yesterday, she’d had electric-blue. She wore what she’d informed Josh was a vintage dress and a swing coat. See? He was learning.

  If he could learn about clothes and hair, politics shouldn’t prove difficult.

  “Hey.” Josh rose to hug his brother and then Ella. “What can I get you to drink?”

  “I’m driving,” Dillon said. “Low-alcohol beer for me.”

  “A glass of Sauvignon blanc, please.” Ella pulled out a chair and sat. She swept a lock of pink hair away from her eyes. “I’m exhausted. Your brother had me helping to shear the alpacas this afternoon.”

  “You should’ve called me,” Josh said. “Dad has everything in hand, even though he’s been away. All I had to do was
shift the stock to a fresh paddock and check the water supply.”

  “I wanted to help,” Ella spoke in a firm, no-nonsense manner. “It’s fun to see the entire process of growing the wool to shearing and spinning.”

  By the time Josh returned with drinks, Ella and Dillon were perusing the menu and checking out the specials’ board.

  Dillon stood. “I’m having the roast beef. Ella wants salmon. What will you have, Josh?”

  “Roast beef works for me,” Josh said.

  While Dillon stood to place their orders at the bar, Josh chatted with Ella about alpacas and the increasing number of native birds in the Eketahuna region.

  “We’re pleased the populations are recovering so well.” Ella’s head tilted slightly, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. “The poaching ring decimated some species, but they’re bouncing back.”

  Dillon returned and claimed the seat beside Ella. “The kitchen orders are backed up. Our meals will be half an hour.”

  “That gives me time to tell you about my call with Frog,” Josh said.

  “How is he?” Dillon asked. “Problem?”

  “He wants me to act as personal security and fake fiancé for his younger sister.”

  Dillon spat out a mouthful of beer, spraying the table.

  “Did you say fake fiancé?” Ella dabbed at the beer with a napkin, her eyes rounded with astonishment.

  “Not too loud. This is on the down-low, but I figure Frog won’t mind you knowing. His sister has attracted a stalker, and the cops can’t help much at this stage. The notes keep coming, but no one sees who delivers them.”

  “Have you met his sister?” Ella asked.

  “No,” Dillon said.

  “No,” Josh agreed. “I’ve seen photos. Until he told me, I had no idea Frog had such high connections.”

  Dillon leaned back in his chair. “Who is she?”

  “Ashley Townsend.” Josh’s grin widened at his brother’s blank expression.

  Ella gasped. “The Labor MP? The one who gets a hard time from the press? They nicknamed her Legs.”

  “That’s the one.”

  “She keeps her private life to herself.” Ella sipped her wine. “How will you play the fake- fiancé angle? Won’t everyone notice a fiancé popping out of the woodwork and ask nosey questions?”