Buying His Bride (The Donovan Brothers Trilogy Book 1) (17 page)

Sighing, he sat back in his chair. “Mrs. Tighe, when did you become a relationship counselor?”

She was unfazed. “Mr. Tighe and I have been married for almost twenty-five years. I think that gives me some insight. You don’t want to leave a new bride at home alone to feel slighted.”

“This isn’t the 1950s, Mrs. Tighe. My wife has her own career and works late hours herself, as you often do. She’ll be fine.”

Mrs. Tighe continued to skewer him with a silent gaze.

He closed the folder he’d been holding. “Fine. What do you suggest?”

She arched a brow. “If I have to suggest something to you this early in the game, your marriage is off to a sorry start.”

About to rap out a short response, Michael caught the twinkle in her eye and laughed. Who knew that beneath his executive assistant’s no-nonsense exterior beat the heart of an inveterate romantic? She had no idea that his marriage was a business arrangement only.

Could it be more?

He decided to play along. “Fine. You’ll be happy to know that I’m knocking off for the day. The rest of these files can wait until tomorrow.”

She smiled and turned to leave.

“Oh, and Mrs. Tighe?”

“Yes?”

“Will you call the florist in the courtyard and see if they have any roses left? I’ll stop by on my way out.”

Mrs. Tighe’s face was a study in delight as she left his office.

****

Putting down her briefcase and a bag of Chinese takeout, Sierra wrestled with her new key to the penthouse’s door. Had Michael left her the right one?

It had been a hard day at the office, with Bruce waxing rhapsodic about the reception, Jen and Nora wanting updates at lunch, and an unending stack of work on her desk and phone calls to return. All she wanted to do now was to relax over some food.

“Having trouble?”

The front door swung open and there stood Michael, suit jacket and tie discarded, shirtsleeves rolled up over forearms, wearing an apron.

He looked delectable.

Adorable.

Delectable was hot and sexy and one thing. Adorable involved complicated emotions and was much more dangerous. Together? The combination was lethal. She had to avoid lethal at all costs.

“You cook, too?” It popped out of her mouth.

Michael chuckled and ushered her inside, picking up her briefcase and the takeout. “Thanks for this. We can save it for later.”

Briefcase stashed in the living room and takeout in the stainless steel fridge, Sierra looked around the kitchen as if seeing it for the first time. She realized how silly her question sounded. A man didn’t end up with a kitchen like this unless he cooked. When and where had he found the time? And why?

He anticipated her question and held up a hand to forestall her. “Le Cordon Bleu, Paris. A summer during college. At that point in my life I figured it was the quickest way to a woman’s heart and all that.” He grinned and poured her a glass of chardonnay from the open bottle on the long kitchen counter. “I still keep my hand in the game now and then.”

“In cooking or in women’s hearts?” Sierra kicked off her heels and settled on the padded barstool at the counter before she realized that her question hung in the air with unintended significance. At the same time, she spotted a crystal vase at the end of the counter beyond the wine bottle. White roses in artfully arranged stages of bloom, with a single red rosebud at the center.

“For me?”

“Who else?” He watched her reaction.

“I guess there’s the answer to my question.” She strived for a light tone, but her mouth was dry. “You haven’t lost your touch with women.”

He put the finishing details on a chicken Caesar salad, eyes now on his work.

“So how was your day?” Sierra was proud of her casual tone.

“Sierra, are we going to talk about last night?” Plating the salad and handing her a couple sets of cutlery, Michael took a place beside her.

“Talk?” She took a small bite, chewed, and sipped her wine. “No, I hadn’t planned on doing a whole lot of talking. That didn’t go so well last night.”

“I thought parts of the night went very well.”

Some better than others.

“You know, sooner or later we
are
going to talk about Townsend.” Michael’s tone was soft but inflexible.

“Maybe when you’re willing to talk about your mother, our conversation will go better.” She tried to bait him as a diversionary tactic, as she had the night before.

This time there was no anger in his voice. “Maybe. If and when you can convince me she’s relevant. She’s been dead a long time, and there’s never been any reason to talk about her. I can’t think why you’re bringing her up now, except to change the subject.”

Sierra tried another tack. “Perhaps we should talk about the fact that we went to bed together. Again.”

Michael’s face was inscrutable. “Okay, I’m willing to change topics for that. For now.”

“So…we need to figure out what we’re doing,” Sierra said. “Or else it could happen again.”

Michael smiled at her then, taking another sip of his wine. Leaning forward, he slipped a hand beneath the hem of her suit skirt that had hiked up a little when she’d lifted herself onto the bar stool.

“Oh, it will happen again, Sierra. No amount of talking in the world can stop that.”

Chapter Eleven

“Wrong.” Sierra’s tone was flat as she headed for the comfort of the living room couch. “It can’t happen again.” She didn’t know whether she was telling herself or Michael, but she was a little desperate.

“Because?” He sat in the armchair opposite her.

“Because I don’t want it to!” She was the worst liar, but it was critical Michael believe her. There was no other way to protect herself.

Self-protection was her default mode.

If they continued to sleep together, she would lose her heart to him altogether. She’d never recover. The discovery of her love was still new. If she pulled back now, she might emerge from the debacle at the end of their time together able to heal and move forward. With or without panic attacks.

“You certainly seemed to want to last night.” Michael studied her face.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to. I’m saying that I won’t continue…”

“Having sex?”

Not making love. Which told her everything she needed to know. As if she didn’t already know that he didn’t love her.

“Do you know how rare our chemistry is, Sierra? Do you want to give up what we share when we don’t have to?”

“Chemistry.” She hated the word by now. “Yes, we have that.”

But what did they share, really? Fabulous sex was enough for Michael, but since this morning it could never be enough for her. Not without some emotional investment on his part. He didn’t have that to offer. Not to her.

Even if he had, she was in no psychological state to handle it.

When she didn’t elaborate, he continued, “Are you sure I can’t persuade you otherwise?”

That was the problem. She was sure he could if she allowed him half a chance.

She managed a light laugh. “Napa and last night were…great. I’m not saying they weren’t.” She shrugged, feigning a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “But it was just sex.”

He wore an inscrutable expression. “Just out of curiosity, then, how do you suggest we proceed from here?”

She’d thought about that. “Easy. We’re both adults. I’ll sleep in one of the other bedrooms. This place is enormous.”

“If we find ourselves attracted to each other again?”

Again? How about still?

“Uh, we ignore it.” Weak, admittedly, but it was the only suggestion she could come up with. “We’ll give each other lots of space. After all, we only have to do this for the next several months.”

Michael stared at her and then laughed a little harshly. “Right. Just remember, this is your idea, not mine.” He moved back to the kitchen and cleared up the remains of their dinner. “Time will tell just how successful this little idea will be.”

It wasn’t very successful at all in the weeks that followed, Sierra had to admit. She and Michael established a careful, shared routine that involved long days at their respective offices and lots of time away from each other.

On the weekends Sierra helped out Grace at Claddagh as she had done before she got married. When Grace protested Michael would want to see more of her, Sierra assured her that she was happy to help out. Michael was fine with it.

What did Michael care? It’s not as if he missed her. He spent most of his weekends either at the office or at his study at home, buried in work.

Weeknights were most difficult. While both she and Michael put in time well past the traditional close of business, they usually met back at the penthouse. Sometimes there were social engagements to attend in the evenings, usually related to DEI’s business contracts, and in those instances, they masqueraded a loving, newly married couple. Connor was almost fully recovered, and Sierra was glad. Still, she found it agony to circulate at cocktail parties and to sit next to Michael at public dinners. On the surface he seemed the quintessential devoted husband in love with his beautiful new wife.

If only.

In front of others Michael was attentive, complimentary, and hands-down irresistible. At one event there was dancing, and Sierra, no longer shy about her abilities on the dance floor or a stranger to Michael’s body, reveled in being held close to his handsome, lithe strength. They didn’t talk but she felt the pulse of his arousal against her belly. and she felt an answering liquid fire. Their silence seemed to intensify the brush of their bodies, despite their clothing. Michael drew her to him with a muted groan, pressing his hips to hers and burying his lips in her neck. But by mutual agreement, it never went further than that.

It was torture to resist the attraction, and with each day Sierra fell more in love, despite the distance she was determined to keep, and her ever-present fear of Grant’s threats.

When they were at home, they shared a neutral rapport. It was so polite it bordered on formal. Sometimes they watched a movie on his entertainment center. Occasionally they sat with their laptops, each working on their separate accounts. They were civil and conversational.

It was awkward.

Horrible.

To add to the strain, there was an ever-present sexual awareness they were careful to ignore. Sierra avoided even the most casual of touches, and it seemed to her Michael did the same. They shared the space in the apartment as if they were each surrounded by separate force fields.

If it weren’t so painful, it would be laughable. They were more diffident with each other than the most casual platonic roommates. The hour would approach for them to retire. Sierra usually excused herself first to go to her room, heart and body aching, while Michael watched her with a brooding gaze and wished her a terse good night.

Not that good nights were possible. Her norm was to toss and turn, all too aware of Michael’s presence in the next bedroom, and to fall asleep only after hours passed, body burning for his touch.

One day Michael went to London, Paris, and Berlin on a business trip. “I need to take care of some final negotiations for the new hotel acquisitions there, and the DEI team can’t handle the negotiations without me.”

“Fine.” What was she going to say? He looked eager to go when the S.O.S. came in from one of his senior vice-presidents. Sharing an apartment with him, no matter how large, was stressful. No doubt he felt the same way.

“I’ll take you to the airport.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll have my driver take me.” He was already absorbed by the paperwork.

They shared a careful goodbye as he left.

“I’ll text you,” Michael said, hesitating a moment before giving her a chaste peck on the cheek. He was gone.

She had no idea what they were doing anymore.

Other than trying to survive the remaining few months of a sham marriage with a minimum amount of fallout before dissolving their contract and going their separate ways.

She was, after all, just a bought bride.

****

“So how’s our favorite sister-in-law?”

From behind the bar where she drew pints for the Saturday late-afternoon customers, Sierra flashed a smile. “I’m your only sister-in-law, Gabe. Hey, Rafe. What are you two doing here?”

“You have two brothers-in-law,” Rafe observed, taking a stool next to his twin. “Who’s your favorite?”

“Now that would be telling.” She placed a couple of pints before them. “On the house. How’ve you been?”

Since the wedding, she’d developed a genuine affection for Michael’s brothers.

“Good. We thought we should see how you’re doing with Michael away.”

“I’m fine,” she said, not looking at them. She wiped down the counter and called out a greeting to some new arrivals. She continued in a low voice, “It’s not as if Michael and I are a couple in the usual sense of the word, right?”

Sierra found their knowledge of the true nature of her marriage a comfort. Around them, at least, she didn’t have to pretend.

Except for the matter of hiding her love for their brother.

“Well, you don’t look fine.” Gabe tossed a few peanuts in his mouth. “You look thin and pale.”

“Thank you so much. Michael said the same thing before he left.”

“Maybe you’re overdoing things,” suggested Rafe.

She shrugged. “No more so than usual. It’s a busy time at McKinley, that’s all, and my mother can always use the help on the weekends. I like keeping occupied.”

Grace breezed into the bar from the back, ruffling the tops of the two brothers’ heads as if they were schoolboys instead of grown professional men. Like her daughter, she’d grown fond of them since Sierra and Michael were married.

“Two of my favorite guys.” She turned to Sierra. “Josh helps me plenty on the weekends, and so does our other staff. Rafe and Gabe think you’re overdoing it as well.” She addressed the brothers again. “See if you two can convince her to take a break, guys—from her job as well as the pub. Doesn’t she look as if she needs one?”

“She sure does.” Gabe smiled at Sierra as she shot him a dirty look.

“I missed a lot of work in the weeks leading up to the wedding. Now is not the time to ask for a vacation.”