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“I’m sorry,” Sean said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I—I really didn’t mean to mess up your special day.”
All of a sudden, exhaustion overwhelmed her. She turned back to Sean. “It’s all right. It’s not your fault.” A tear dribbled down her cheek and she angrily brushed it away. All this planning and now…nothing.
“Hey, don’t cry,” he murmured. He gently rubbed her arms, as if to soothe her. But the moment he wrapped his arms around her, all thoughts of Edward and her ruined wedding fled from her mind. Instead, Laurel was taken by his kindness and his strength…and his incredibly muscular chest.
She sucked in a sharp breath, then stepped back. If she had any questions about the depth of her feelings for Edward, they were answered now. She hadn’t loved him. He was out of her life barely ten minutes and she was in the arms of another man!
Laurel walked across the room, determined to observe Sean Quinn from a safe distance. His eyes weren’t the only part of him that she found attractive. His hair was dark, almost black, and brushed the collar of his leather jacket. He was handsome, but there was something else, an air of indifference about him that made him seem aloof, untouchable.
“What was he arrested for?” Laurel asked.
Sean cleared his throat. “Ah…bigamy.”
Laurel gasped. “Bigamy? He has a wife already?”
“Actually, he has nine. You’d have been number ten.”
Laurel groaned, a flush of humiliation warming her face. “I guess this is what I deserve.” She smiled weakly. “I should have suspected something was up. I wanted him to meet my friends, but he always had some excuse, some business meeting that he had to attend. And when I asked about his family, he changed the subject. And then he couldn’t make the wedding rehearsal last night. He said he had a business meeting.”
“He was with another woman,” Sean said. “But if it makes you feel better, he said he really did love you.”
Laurel laughed. Love. She was far too practical to believe in that particular emotion. She and Edward were compatible, and she’d thought he came from a good family, so she’d decided to accept his proposal when he’d asked. After all, it had fit right in with her own plans. She would marry Edward, collect her trust fund from her uncle, and make all her dreams come true. And now, everything was ruined.
Or was it?
“Tell me something,” Laurel said, lifting her gaze to Sean and sending him a smile. “Are you married?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Do you have a girlfriend or a fiancée?”
He cleared his throat, an uneasy expression crossing his face. “I better be going now. You have a lot to take care of. You probably can’t return the wedding dress, but maybe your guests will let you keep the gifts—once they realize this wasn’t really your fault.”
“What size jacket do you wear?” Laurel quickly turned and retrieved a garment bag from a hook on the back of the standing mirror. “I’m pretty sure this will fit,” she murmured as she unzipped the bag and glanced down at his shoes. She could still salvage something from this mess. “I doubt if we’d be so lucky that the shoes would fit, too. Edward had really big feet.”
“No way. I’m not getting all dressed up so I can tell your guests you’re not getting married,” Sean said. “I’ve done what I came here to do. I’m leaving.”
“I don’t want you to tell the guests,” Laurel said. “I do plan to get married this afternoon.”
“Eddie is in jail. I don’t think they’re going to let him out,” Sean replied.
“Oh, I’m not going to marry Edward. I’m going to marry you.”
Laurel waited, the silence in the room deafening. His jaw slowly dropped and he stared at her as if she’d just sprouted horns and a tail. Maybe the suggestion was a little rash, but she was desperate. “Before you say no,” she murmured, “I want you to listen to my proposal.”
He backed away from her, his hands up. “I don’t need you to propose, lady. I’m not walking down the aisle. Not with you, not with any woman.”
“And I have no intention of calling off my wedding. Now, as I see it, this is entirely your fault. You’re the one responsible for Edward getting arrested and—”
“He was a damn bigamist!” Sean shouted. “He was breaking the law. And you should be grateful I saved you from him.”
“I would be, if there wasn’t so much riding on this wedding. There are guests and gifts and a huge reception planned. The embarrassment would be…” She let her words drift off. She felt a bit guilty for manipulating him, but the wedding was important. Once she got married, she’d get her inheritance. Once she got her inheritance, she could rent her building. She had it all picked out, an old brick storefront with lots of light and high ceilings.
The idea had come to her several years ago when she’d started teaching music at a grade school in Dorchester. After college, she’d bounced around from job to job, trying to find her place in the world. She’d joined the Peace Corps on a whim, only to find herself with a chronic case of dysentery. They’d sent her home after four months. A few months later she’d taken a job teaching dance on a cruise ship. But the exotic locales didn’t make up for the cramped quarters and the sea-sickness. Her career as a flight attendant ended when she’d realized she had a paralyzing fear of flying.
But this time she’d found something she might actually be good at. There were plenty of after-school programs for kids who were interested in academics or athletics, but very few available for children with talent in the arts. So she had decided that once she got her hands on her five-million-dollar trust fund, she’d open an after-school center that focused on theater and dance and music, and maybe even the visual arts. She already had a picture of it in her mind. And she would call it the Louise Carpenter Rand Center for the Arts, after her mother, who had passed down her love of the arts to Laurel.
If her uncle Sinclair hadn’t been such a miser, she might not have had to go to such extremes. But he controlled the Rand family trust, doling out money as he saw fit. And since he’d been named the administrator of her trust fund after both her parents had died, he held the purse strings. Sinclair had laid out the conditions. The trust fund provided her with a small monthly income. If she married before her twenty-sixth birthday, she would be entitled to her inheritance of five million. If she remained single, she’d have to wait until her thirty-first birthday for the money.
In truth, Sinclair Rand was nothing more than an old chauvinist. In his mind, no woman could handle that amount of money without a man to supervise. He hadn’t cared who she married, he hadn’t even bothered to meet Edward. As long as her husband had a penis, then Uncle Sinclair figured he had the brains to handle her finances, and that was enough for him. Uncle Sinclair claimed his ideas were in keeping with how Laurel’s father, Stewart Rand, would have wanted things. But she also knew if her parents were alive, they’d support her idea for the arts center.
But two could play at her uncle’s little game. “You mentioned you were a private investigator. I suppose you’re accustomed to being paid for your time. I’m willing to pay you ten thousand dollars to put on this tuxedo and walk down the aisle with me.”
He gasped. “Ten thousand dollars? You’re crazy.”
“I’m not asking you to marry me. It wouldn’t be legal. We don’t have a marriage license. All I’m asking is that you walk through the ceremony with me.” She paused. “And the reception. You just have to pretend to be Edward. Think of it as playacting. And once we’re in the limo and on our way to the honeymoon, that’s it. Your part is over.”
It would be a way of buying herself some time, Laurel mused. Sooner or later her uncle would have to see that his insistence on marriage was antiquated and untenable. After all, she’d nearly married a criminal to get her hands on her inheritance. Pretending to marry a handsome private investigator wasn’t nearly so serious. Once her uncle saw how far she was willing to go to build her dream, he’d have to relent.
“All this just to save you a little embarrassment?” Sean asked, leveling her with a suspicious gaze.
“Yes,” she lied. He didn’t really need to know the truth, did he? After all, she was paying him well for his services as a stand-in groom.
“And you’re going to pay me to do this?”
“Yes. Ten thousand. That’s a lot of money,” she said. “You could afford to get a decent haircut.”
He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze intense. “I’m not sure I trust you.”
She felt a shiver skitter along her spine. She’d planned a wonderful honeymoon in Hawaii and was tempted to make that a requirement, as well. Maybe another ten thousand would cover a week of frolicking on a secluded beach. An image of Sean Quinn, shirtless, his skin burnished by the sun, flitted through her mind. It was immediately replaced by an image of him diving into the surf…naked…the water gleaming over his—
Laurel cursed inwardly. This was getting ridiculous! She’d nearly married another man today and she couldn’t stop fantasizing about a guy she barely knew. “I’m not paying you to trust me. I’m paying you to marry me. If it will make you feel better, I’ll put it all in writing.”
He thought about the offer for a moment longer, then sighed. “All right. I suppose I could help out. I could use the money.”
Laurel threw herself into his arms, unable to contain her joy and relief. But when he slipped his hands around her waist and held her just a bit longer than proper, she found herself wondering what it might feel like to kiss Sean Quinn. “I—I’ll write out our agreement while you get ready.” She hurried to the door, then turned around before she opened it. “You’re not going to back out on this, are you?”
Sean picked up the tuxedo and looked at it critically. “With that right jab you’ve got? I’d be fool to make you angry again.”
THE DOOR CLOSED softly behind her. Sean released a tightly held breath, then shook his head. “What the hell am I doing? I’ve got to be insane.” He glanced over at the window and wondered if he could get it open and crawl out before she returned.
The day had started out with such promise. He was going to close a big case, take a sleazebag off the street and collect a nice fat fee. But he’d made an error in judgment by offering to do a favor for that sleazebag and look where it got him. He hadn’t needed Eddie’s hundred-dollar fee; he’d already had a good day financially. Greed had gotten him in this mess.
He thought back to the tale of Ronan Quinn, how the wolf had nearly eaten him because he’d gotten a little too greedy. Now he had a chance to collect a tidy ten thousand acorns from Laurel Rand, just for pretending to be Edward Garland Wilson.
It would be ten hours’ work maximum, at a rate of one thousand dollars an hour. He’d have to be a fool to turn that down. And what did he have to lose? His only real plans this evening had been to stop by Quinn’s Pub and have a few beers, then go back to his apartment and type up the bill. And Laurel Rand was right—he hadn’t signed any marriage license, so the whole thing was off the books. Just a charade for her high-society wedding guests.
Sean slowly unzipped the garment bag and withdrew the tuxedo. He checked the label, noting the fancy designer name. The jacket looked like it might be a little small and the pants on the short side, but at least the shirt collar wouldn’t choke him.
This was certainly not what he had in mind when he thought of marriage. Of course, he’d never thought of marriage for himself at all. Sean had been told all the cautionary tales of his Mighty Quinn ancestors—as had his brothers. But Sean had been the only one in the family to recognize that the odds were against all six brothers being able to achieve eternal bachelorhood. When his oldest brothers had fallen victim, he had assumed that his odds for avoiding matrimony had improved considerably.
But there was a part of him that envied his five brothers—and even his little sister, Keely. They’d all found something that he’d never once experienced in his life. Sure, there had been women, even a few who imagined themselves in love with him. But not one had come close to touching his heart—a heart that he’d kept well protected over the years.
His attitude about marriage might not have been so harsh had he a decent example to follow. His father had been horrible at it. And his mother had been…Sean paused. He used to think of her as an angel, the perfect mother. But that had changed one day, shortly after his fourteenth birthday, when he’d learned the truth about his parents’ marriage.
He shook his head, pushing the thoughts aside. His father’s imperfections and his mother’s infidelities were in the past—so why couldn’t he forget them? A shrink might say he had trust issues, but Sean didn’t believe in that kind of psychobabble. He was who he was and there was no use trying to analyze it. He just had to live with it.
Sean took a deep breath, shrugging out of his jacket and dropping it over the back of a chair. Then he stripped down to his boxers and tugged on the finely pressed black trousers. He’d just pulled the zipper up when the door opened.
Laurel Rand slipped inside and hurriedly closed the door behind her, turning to face him. For a moment she froze, staring at him mutely, her gaze dropping to his naked chest, then flitting back up to his face. His eyes met hers and for a moment he was struck again by her beauty. But then he forced himself to look at her rationally. She’d just learned her groom wouldn’t be attending the wedding, yet she’d seemed to accept the news without hysterics and tantrums.
Sean rubbed his hand over his abdomen, his muscles still tense from when she had punched him. Every instinct told him that Laurel Rand shouldn’t be trusted, but the money was just too good to resist. Ten thousand dollars didn’t fall into his lap every day. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I’ll do it.”
A tiny smile curled her lips and Sean took satisfaction in the knowledge that what he was doing had pleased her. She really was extraordinarily beautiful, especially when she smiled. Some might think her mouth a little too wide or her cheekbones too high. Taken alone, each feature of her face wasn’t all that pretty. But when put together, she had a beauty that he found arresting.
She slowly approached and handed him a folded piece of paper. “I wrote it all out,” she said. “And…and I wrote you a check. It’s dated for the day after tomorrow.”
He took the paper and the check, then grabbed the tuxedo jacket and put them both into the breast pocket. “Thanks.”
“Aren’t you going to read it?” Laurel asked.
He shrugged as he slipped into the pleated shirt. “I trust you.” Sean stared down at the front of the shirt. “No buttons,” he said.
“Oh, there are studs,” she said, grabbing up the garment bag and fishing around until she found a card. “Here.”
Sean fumbled to get one off the card, but his fingers were clumsy with nerves. It dropped to the floor and skidded beneath the chair. “I never could figure these things out,” he said, bending to retrieve the stud.
“Let me,” Laurel said, taking the errant stud from his fingers.
He stood in front of her, the shirt gaping open. When her fingers brushed his skin, a current of sensation rushed through him. He held his breath as she worked at the studs, trying to focus his thoughts on something other than a vivid fantasy of her smoothing her palms over his naked skin and brushing away the shirt altogether. Of her damp lips trailing across his—
She glanced up at him and Sean sent her a weak smile.
“Do they fit?” she asked.
“They?”
She sank down, picked up one of the black patent leather shoes, and held it out. Sean slipped it on his left foot and found it had to be two sizes too big. “They’ll be all right.”
“No,” she said. To his surprise, she reached down the front of her dress and came back with a wad of tissues. “Here. Stuff some into the toes.” She pulled out more tissue and tossed it over her shoulder. “I didn’t need the cleavage anyway.”
He bit back a chuckle. Her honesty was disarming. “Aren’t you nervous?” he asked.
“Why would I be nervous?”
“Aren’t all brides supposed to be nervous?”
She ran her hand over the front of his pleated shirt. “I’m not getting married today,” she said. “You saw to that.”
A trace of anger colored her voice and he immediately felt regret for his part in her distress. “I’m sorry,” Sean said. “But I think it’s for the best.” He paused. “Did you love him a lot?”
Her hand stilled on his chest and she fixed her gaze on the shiny pink paint on her fingernails. “I obviously didn’t know him,” she said in a resigned tone. Laurel forced a smile. “I suppose we should talk about what’s going to happen. You have been to a wedding before, haven’t you?”
“Quite a few lately,” Sean said, thinking of his married siblings.
“Good, then you know how it works. You’ll go up to the front of the church and wait for me at the altar.”
“Do I have a best man?”
“No,” Laurel said. “Edward phoned me last night to tell me his brother, Lawrence, couldn’t make it. He had a family emergency, something about his pregnant wife. But then, that might have been a lie. He probably doesn’t even have a brother.” She reached for his tuxedo jacket, then held it out for him. “It’s a traditional service. Short and simple. Just listen to the minister and repeat everything he tells you to.”
“I can do that,” Sean said, turning away from her.
She slipped his jacket over his arms, then smoothed her hands across his shoulders. “That’s not such a bad fit,” she said. “I need to go get my bouquet and to talk to the photographer, so I guess I’ll see you at the altar.”
Sean slowly turned back to face her. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Laurel nodded, then started for the door. But she stopped before she opened it. “One more thing,” she said. “Can you act as if this is the happiest day of your life?”
“I can try,” he said.
She slipped out of the room. Sean grabbed the shoes and stuffed a wad of tissue in each of the toes. He found socks in the garment bag and quickly pulled them on before slipping into the shoes. He wanted to make this work for her. He wasn’t sure why. He only knew that she was in trouble and she’d asked for his help.
And there was something about her that drew him. He didn’t have to measure every word he said with Laurel. She’d been bluntly honest with him, told him what she needed and how she felt. He hated the games that went on between men and women, the coy looks and the subtle innuendo, the advance and retreat meant to lead to the bedroom. His brothers were good at the game, but Sean always felt as if someone hadn’t shown him the rule book.
Laurel Rand didn’t play games. When she didn’t like what he had to say, she punched him in the stomach; when she needed his help, she simply offered to pay him for it. She hadn’t tried to manipulate him into something he didn’t want to do. He had to admire a woman like that.
When he finished tying his shoes, he made an attempt at the bow tie, but each time, it turned out lopsided. After the fifth try, he decided to settle for crooked. He raked his hands through his tousled hair, then stared at his reflection. He didn’t look too bad. “This has got to be the strangest day of your life, boyo,” he muttered before turning and walking to the door.
He walked down the hall. In the distance, he saw Laurel standing in front of the entrance to the sanctuary. She turned and their eyes met for a moment. A hesitant smile touched her lips and Sean gave her a little wave. He stopped and held out his arms, then slowly turned so that she might approve of his appearance. She laughed, and then her three bridesmaids turned to look at him.
Sean pulled open the door and slowly walked up the side aisle of the sanctuary. He found the minister waiting for him in a small anteroom. “Well, we’re almost ready to get started,” the minister said. “Are you ready?”
“I guess,” Sean murmured.
“I know you didn’t have a chance to attend the rehearsal, but the service will be pretty straightforward. Just listen to me and I’ll guide you through it. Any second thoughts?” he asked.
“What?”
“Marriage is for life, son,” he said. “If you’re not ready, then we don’t have to walk out there.”
“I’m ready,” Sean said.
“Then let’s go.” The minister walked out the door and Sean had no choice but to follow him. He didn’t have any idea what kind of sin he had just committed by lying to a minister. If he lied to a priest he’d be eternally damned, but the Episcopalians might be a bit more lenient on that point.
The minister stopped at the head of the center aisle. “You wait for your bride here,” he whispered. “Then take her hand and come to the top of those three steps.”
“Got it,” Sean murmured. Take her hand, then up the steps. Take her hand, then up the steps. Though there was no reason for him to be nervous, he was. He didn’t want to mess this up for Laurel. It seemed to mean so much to her.
