He ran his fingers through his hair, then turned for the door. He wasn't about to hang around until she came out of the bathroom, her skin still damp from her shower, her robe clinging to her body. He'd find something else to occupy his time until she crawled into bed and turned off the lights.
The hallway was silent as he walked down the sweeping staircase. His footsteps made little noise against the thick Oriental runner. When he reached the door to the kitchen, he shoved it open, then stopped, surprised to see Alistair still up.
The diminutive man looked over his shoulder and smiled at Sean as he walked toward the sink. "I thought you'd gone to bed," he said.
"Strange house," Sean said. "I'm not going to sleep. It will take me a few nights to settle in."
"Perhaps I can prepare something for you. A snack?"
"Do you have any beer?"
Alistair nodded and retrieved two bottles from the huge commercial refrigerator. He popped the caps off with an opener. "Would you like a glass?"
Sean grabbed one of the bottles and took a long swallow, then shook his head. "Nope. I'm fine." He held up the bottle. "Guinness."
Alistair carefully poured his beer into a half-pint glass. "I enjoy a bit of the black stuff every now and then."
"My da has an Irish pub in Southie and-" Sean swallowed the rest of his sentence, realizing too late that he'd blown his cover. "I mean, I've been to a pub in-"
"No need," Alistair said. "I'm aware of your charade."
Sean cursed inwardly, but tried to maintain a calm facade. "Charade? I don't know what you mean."
"You might tell me your name," Alistair said.
"It's Edward. Edward Garland Wilson." The butler raised an eyebrow and Sean knew he was made. "It is." The butler shook his head. "All right. It's Sean Quinn. How did you know?"
"You were nothing like Laurel described. I knew how much pressure her uncle put on her to marry and how desperate she was to get her trust fund. What happened to Edward?"
"He didn't make it to the wedding," he said.
"I wasn't sure that he existed at all. And how did you come to be mixed up in this little drama of Miss Laurel's?"
"She needed a husband. She made me an offer I couldn't refuse."
Alistair nodded. "Ah. The Godfather. One of my favorite American films. I suppose you could say that Miss Laurel has decided to go to the mattresses?" He chuckled softly. "I'm not surprised. That is precisely like Miss Laurel."
"I guess she's used to getting her way," Sean murmured.
"Oh, no," Alistair said. "Miss Laurel is quite unspoiled. But she does have a tendency to set her sights on something and then rush headlong into it without thinking about the consequences first. She's headstrong, yes, and single-minded. But not at all selfish." He glanced at Sean over the rim of his glass, then licked the foam off his upper lip. "I can't say that I blame Miss Laurel. Sinclair Rand toys with her as a cat toys with a mouse. She didn't have an easy childhood and Sinclair hasn't made her adulthood much better. It's been a battle of wills between them for years."
"How so?" Sean asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Laurel's mother died when she was ten and her father nine years later. It was very difficult for her, even more so when Sinclair became the authority figure in her life."
"I lost my mother when I was three," Sean said. "That can mess a kid up for a long time."
"Then you understand."
They drank their beer silently, the two of them lost in their thoughts for a few minutes. Alistair seemed to know Laurel better than anyone, even her uncle, and Sean was grateful for any insight into his "wife." "What happened to Laurel's parents?"
"Laurel's father, Stewart Rand, was wealthy and older when he married Miss Louise. She was a dancer and an actress. He and his brother, Sinclair, had made the family fortune and Mr. Stewart was determined to enjoy it in his later years. Sinclair didn't approve of Louise Carpenter. There was twenty-five years difference in age between them and he considered her an unsuitable choice, from a working-class family."
"And she died?"
"Miss Louise died of cancer three days after their twelfth wedding anniversary. Laurel and her mother were so close, they did everything together. Her mother had her in ballet lessons and theater class. They studied painting and sculpting. When most little girls were playing with dolls, Miss Louise took Laurel to museums and operas and symphony concerts. I once thought Laurel was destined for a career on the stage. But after Miss Louise died, that all stopped. Mr. Stewart lost all interest in the child and she was left to fend for herself. Mr. Stewart passed on nine years later. He had a heart attack shortly after Laurel left for college. Perhaps he thought he'd finished raising Laurel and he could finally join his wife."
"And then Sinclair was in charge," Sean commented.
"He looked upon her as if she were a nuisance, an embarrassment, a reminder that his brother had succumbed to his baser instincts. Once Laurel was out of the house, she began to blossom, she began dancing again and painting, she appeared in several plays. But Sinclair insisted that she get a proper degree in something practical. He decided she needed a teaching degree, and if she refused to take the classes, then he'd refuse to pay for her education. Every time she took a step away from him, he'd drag her back."
"I didn't know Laurel was a teacher."
Alistair nodded. "Up until last June, she taught music at a grade school in Dorchester. She loves teaching, loves the children. I thought she'd finally found her place in the world, but then she decided to marry and quit her job. That was quite a surprise."
It took a moment for Sean to absorb the news. He'd just assumed that Laurel lived off her family's money, that she was nothing more than a spoiled rich girl determined to have her way. "Why is it so important for her to get her inheritance?"
Alistair shrugged. "Perhaps the money represents independence for her. She could move out of the house and start a life of her own, make a break from Sinclair. But as much as she wants to break away, he wants to hold on to her. I think, in his own way, he's grown fond of her."
Sean straightened. "Are you going to tell Sinclair about us?"
The butler shook his head. "This is between Miss Laurel and her uncle. You've just managed to get caught in the middle. We'll just have to see how events unfold, won't we?"
Grabbing up his beer, Sean nodded. "We will." He paused, then smiled at Alistair. "It was nice talking to you."
"Good night, Mr. Edward."
As Sean wandered through the dark house, he was forced to admit that his assumptions about Laurel and her motives might have been wrong. That this wasn't about greed at all. He'd been pretty quick to jump to conclusions. For now, he'd give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, she was his "wife." It was the least he could do.
* * *
Laurel rolled over and punched her pillow, unable to get comfortable. Though she should have been completely exhausted, she felt as if every nerve in her body was on edge. She'd expected Sean to be lying on the sofa when she emerged from the bathroom, but he'd been gone. Frantic, she'd hurried down the stairs only to hear his voice coming from the kitchen.
"Relax," she murmured. "He's not going to run away."
But then, maybe twenty thousand hadn't been enough. She could offer him more, since she really didn't have the twenty thousand anyway. Her only chance to pay him was if her plan succeeded and Sinclair turned over her trust fund. And if that happened, then a few thousand more wouldn't matter one way or the other.
With a groan, she pulled the pillow over her face. A month of nights with Sean Quinn sleeping in her room. A month of days watching him move, listening to his voice, staring into his handsome face. A woman only had so much self-control! Though she hadn't been in love with Edward, she'd liked him enough to marry him. Laurel had convinced herself to be pragmatic about passion.
Since there hadn't been much heat between her and Edward, she hadn't had to worry. In truth, she'd considered their lack of a sex life to be proof tha
t they had a friendship first. And Edward had insisted that they save themselves for marriage, a request she thought chivalrous. Laurel frowned. "That should have made me suspicious," she muttered. "No man in his right mind passes up sex when he has a willing and available woman."
But then, maybe it wasn't Edward. Maybe it was her. Maybe she'd unconsciously been unwilling to release her passionate side. She'd seen how her mother's death had nearly destroyed her father. For nine years, he'd pined after her, unable to recapture his usual zest for life. That kind of love and desire frightened Laurel and she'd wanted no part of it-until now.
She hadn't done much to make Edward want her. And maybe he just wasn't attracted to her in that way. She groaned softly. Suddenly, Sean had awakened all these strange and powerful feelings inside of her and she didn't know what to do with them. For the first time in her life, she felt real desire for a man.
From beneath the pillow, she heard the bedroom door open, then creak as it swung shut. She sat up, clutching the pillow to her lap. "You're back," she said.
In the faint light streaming through the window, she saw him turn toward the bed. "You're awake."
Laurel reached over and switched on the light, then hastily ran her fingers through her tousled hair. "I can't sleep. It's probably jet lag. It's afternoon in Hawaii."
Sean set a bottle of beer on the table near the sofa and slowly drew his sweater over his head. After he'd tossed it aside, he sat and kicked off his shoes and socks. "You've had a busy day."
She nodded. "You were talking to Alistair." At his questioning look, Laurel smiled. "I went looking for you. What were you talking about?"
"Nothing," Sean said.
"I-I thought you'd left. For good."
"We have a deal. I'm not going to back out," Sean said.
Laurel caught herself staring at his chest and when she looked back at his face, he was watching her. "I-I wouldn't blame you if you wanted out. This is a pretty crazy plan."
"It is." He reached for the buttons on his jeans and she scrambled for the light and turned it off. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust again, and by the time they had, he wore only his boxers. Laurel swallowed hard. Maybe she hadn't felt this kind of attraction to Edward because he didn't have the body of a Greek god.
He sat on the sofa, bracing his elbows on his knees. "Maybe you should tell me why this money is so important to you."
"There are things I want to do with my life," she murmured. "And I want to get started now."
"Like what?" he asked as he rose. Sean moved to the bed and sat on the edge. Her pulse quickened as the mattress sank under his weight. "Tell me."
She could barely see him in the dark, but she felt the heat from his body, heard the soft sound of his breathing. He found her hand and slipped his fingers between hers, drawing it up to his mouth.
"I-I have this plan," she said as he pressed a kiss to the tip of one finger. "I'm going to do something good with the money. But I can't talk about it. I'm afraid I'll jinx it."
"You can tell me, Laurel." Sean kissed another finger, his lips soft. She shivered, grateful that she didn't keep any really embarrassing secrets. No secret would be safe once Sean started kissing her. "I found this old building in a neighborhood in Dorchester and I want to open an arts center there. We'd have after-school activities in theater, music, dance, maybe painting." She reached over and turned on the light, suddenly excited to be telling someone about her plans. "You should see the building. It's perfect. It's got all this space and it's right on the bus line. And it's within walking distance of two grade schools."
"That's what you want the money for?"
Laurel nodded. "When I was little, my mother sent me to art lessons and dance class. And in the summer, she took me to acting classes. When she died, I could hardly think about that time in my life, because it was so much a part of my memories of her. It hurt too much. But then when I started teaching music, it all came back to me. Those teachers made a difference in my life."
"It's a great idea," Sean said.
She clutched his hand, pulling it to her. "Do you really think so?"
"Who knows? Something like that might have made a difference for me."
Laurel smiled. "I told you my secrets. Now you have to tell me yours."
"I don't have any secrets," Sean replied.
She took his hand and kissed his fingertips one by one. "I promise, I won't judge." He stared at her for a long moment and Laurel felt a shiver skitter down her spine. Sometimes he looked at her and she saw desire in his eyes, knew that if she just leaned forward, he'd kiss her. Was any of this real between them? Did he fantasize about her in the same way she did about him?
"All right," Sean said. "Shove over."
Laurel shimmied to the other side of the bed and Sean lay down beside her, stretching his long legs out in front of him. This nervous anticipation, the flutter of her heart when Sean moved beside her, the quickening of her pulse when his shoulder bumped against hers-all of it was so exciting.
He leaned back into the pillows and sighed. "My childhood wasn't the best. My da was a commercial fisherman and he was gone all the time. My ma walked out when I was three. And my brothers and I raised ourselves. I grew up… confused. And angry. And rebellious."
"Did you get in trouble?"
"I was well on my way to a career as a criminal."
"And what stopped you?"
Sean shrugged, a response that she'd grown used to already. He shrugged when he needed more time to think, always so careful about what he revealed, so wary of letting someone know him. He was a man of very few words and Laurel had grown to love that about him.
"There were a lot of petty little crimes. And then, one day, I stole a car and spent a night in jail. And I realized I was just one step away from losing control of my life. It took a while for that to sink in all the way. I got fired from a few jobs, got bounced out of the police academy. Then I took a few courses and got my P.I. license."
"And now you break up weddings for a living?" Laurel teased.
Sean chuckled. He didn't laugh often, but the sound was like a tiny victory for her. He trusted her enough to let her in, to show her a side that he didn't reveal often. She'd thought her childhood scars ran deep, but Sean's weren't even scars. The wounds still seemed raw.
"I think I did you a favor." He slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him.
Laurel's hand rested on his chest and she watched as it rose and fell with his breathing. "I think you did," she murmured. "I think you rescued me."
She stared at him, waiting, hoping, that he'd kiss her. And then he did, a sweet and gentle kiss, the warmth of his mouth sending a wave of wonderful sensation through her body. Laurel wondered if he knew the power he had over her, how just a simple kiss could make her lose all sense of who she was.
He pulled back and gently brushed her hair out of her eyes. "I think you need to sleep," he murmured.
She curled into him, resting her head in the curve of his arm. Suddenly exhaustion overwhelmed her and her eyes grew heavy. "I'm tired."
"I'll be here when you wake up," he said.
She felt his lips on her forehead and Laurel smiled. Maybe this "marriage" wouldn't be so bad after all. If she could just find a way to keep him in her bed, it might be better than she'd ever expected.
* * *
Sean opened his eyes slowly and found himself in an unfamiliar bed. For a moment, he wasn't sure where he was. The thought that he'd had too much to drink the previous night drifted through his mind, but he didn't have a headache and his mouth didn't taste like a used gym sock. He slowly pushed up on his elbows and looked around the room.
"Laurel," he murmured before letting himself fall back into the pillow. He rolled over onto his stomach and closed his eyes. He'd never spent an entire night in a woman's bed. And what time he had spent had involved sex.
Even though they hadn't been intimate, the thought of making love to Laurel hadn't been far from his m
ind. But she'd said it herself-he'd rescued her. And if he wanted to avoid the Quinn family curse, then he needed to exercise some self-control.
The bathroom door swung open and Laurel stepped out. His face still pressed into the pillow, Sean watched her surreptitiously through one eye. She wore a robe made of loose, flowing fabric that gaped at her breasts and clung to her limbs.
She glanced over at the bed, but from her angle he must have appeared to be sleeping. A moment later, she let the robe drop to the floor, offering him a tempting view of her backside. He held his breath, afraid to move, and watched as she pulled a lacy bra and panties out of her wardrobe.
A groan nearly slipped from his throat as he let his gaze drift from the nape of her neck to her long legs. God, she had a beautiful body, curves in all the right places, and skin that had felt like silk beneath his hands.
His response to the sight of her naked form was involuntary and he felt himself grow hard. Sean knew he ought to look away, or to at least let her know he was watching. But he waited until she'd pulled on a sleeveless blouse and finished buttoning it before he moved. And when he did, she quickly turned.
"Good morning," Laurel said, hurrying to the closet to retrieve a short little flowered skirt. "Are you awake?"
As he sat up, Sean tried to act sleepier than he really was. In truth, his blood was racing so quickly through his veins and his heart was pounding so hard that he could have jumped out of bed and run five miles in record time. "I'm awake," he murmured. More awake than even he wanted to be.
"Get up," she said. "I want to take you somewhere." She crossed to the bed and sat on the edge, not bothering to finish dressing. Her long legs were bare and did nothing to alleviate his discomfort.
"Give me a moment," Sean said.
She grabbed his hand and gave it a tug, but he pulled back until she tumbled beside him onto the bed. He wanted to kiss her, to run his hands up and down her gorgeous legs. But Sean knew that doing so wouldn't help his… condition.
Laurel laughed, then sat beside him, crossing her legs in front of her. "I slept so well last night. I thought I'd be jet-lagged but I wasn't. I'm just full of energy. And I'm famished. I think we should go out and get some breakfast."
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