by Tee, Marian
You’ll be with me soon enough, Sean had written back to her, and then I promise you – the past can’t cause you pain again. As long as I’m around, you’ll have no reason to cry (not counting, of course, the times that I’ll make you cry out, which is a delightfully different thing).
I know I should be scared about this whole mail order marriage thing, Isla had confided to him, but I’m not. I’m excited to start a new life with you, so excited that I think I’m going to give you a kiss the moment I see you.
Remembering all those words now made her cringe –
Crap, Isla thought again.
Sean looked at her beneath hooded lids. “Well, sugar?”
Isla took a deep breath. “Is it too late to ask Charlotte Carmichaels for a refund?”
Chapter Three
Sean’s broad shoulders rocked with laughter at Isla’s question, more amused than anything by the utter seriousness of her tone. “You mean it, don’t you?” he marveled. “You truly are wishing I’m someone else, aren’t you?”
“I just don’t think we’re going to be a good fit.” Isla’s tone was slightly defensive. She knew she was being rude, but it was that or kiss him, and well...she could live with being rude.
“That’s too bad,” Sean murmured, “since I’m thinking the opposite.”
Oh dear. Oh no. Isla gnashed her teeth against the seductive impact of his voice on her senses. It just wasn’t enough that God had made this man sinfully handsome, was it? He just had to be blessed with a slow, sexy Texan drawl, too, the kind that made his every word sound deliciously wicked and forbidden.
“Try to remember the letters we exchanged,” he coaxed. “I enjoyed them so much, they were the highlight of my day, darlin’.”
Isla fidgeted in her seat. “I enjoyed them, too, but it’s different now.” His letters had made her picture a sweet, ordinary cowboy who cared so much for his dear Papa he was willing to marry a girl he didn’t know for his father’s peace of mind.
In reality, however –
Isla almost snorted. The part that involved his father was still true. According to Sean, his father’s surgery was slated in two weeks’ time, and Sean was hoping that the promise of a potential grandchild would be enough to have his father work hard for his recovery.
As for the rest...
There was nothing sweet about this dangerously handsome man in front of her, and there was certainly nothing ordinary –
Isla was startled to find herself the sudden recipient of Sean’s knowing look. “What?”
“You’re comparing me to Swanson again, aren’t you, darlin’?”
Isla flushed. She had forgotten how intuitive he was, something that had been evident even back when they were only exchanging letters. He had been so good at reading between the lines that every letter he wrote to her contained answers to questions she hadn’t been able to make herself ask.
Mrs. Carmichaels told me she had to send you my profile report, Isla had once written. I hope nothing in it scared you off?
Yes, she did, he had written back. And you’re a sight for sore eyes, sugar.
The words were exactly what Isla wanted to hear. Having grown up hearing her family disparage her looks for years, she had worried greatly about whether he’d find her sufficiently presentable for him.
She had believed him then, but now...
“It’s impossible not to compare the two of you,” Isla told him honestly. “I mean, look at yourself, seriously. Jonathan was good-looking, but he’d be invisible next to you—-”
“Thank you, sugar. I think you’re beautiful, too.”
Isla wondered irritably if Sean had a God-given talent for making her blush. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment—-”
“You never have to,” he drawled. “You’re always beautiful in my eyes—-”
“Will you please stop that?” Isla was torn between exasperation and embarrassment. “You weren’t such a reprehensible flirt in our letters—-”
“No, I wasn’t.”
A straight answer for once, Isla thought, astonished.
Then she saw his eyes gleam –
“But you were.”
And she realized that she should have known better, and that leopards could never change its spots.
“You were such a wonderful flirt in your letters, Isla.” Sean’s tone was wicked. “Do you remember?”
Now that he mentioned it—-
Evergreen, Texas won’t be anything like your city life, sugar, Sean had once written to her. You sure you won’t find yourself bored?
As long as you promise to stay with me, she had quickly written back, I won’t have any complaints.
Isla’s cheeks were a deeper shade of red by the time she met Sean’s gaze. “I admit to being excessively friendly,” she began stiffly.
Sean chuckled. “Is that how you call flirting in San Diego?”
“Okay, fine. I was a bit of a flirt—-” She lifted her chin. “But it was only because I wanted to be sure you wouldn’t change your mind about marrying me. I was desperate to have a reason to leave home—-”
“And have you changed your mind about that? Do you wish you never left home instead?”
“No, of course not—-”
“Then why have you changed your mind about me?” Sean asked reasonably.
Isla didn’t answer him this time, but the frustration in her eyes spoke volumes, and he said gently, “I’m still the same man you exchanged letters with, and I’m nothing like Swanson.”
Isla bit her lip hard. Jonathan had sworn to love her, but in the end he had betrayed her. How could she allow herself to believe it would be different between them, especially when Sean was so much more a man than Jonathan was?
“I know what you’re thinking,” Sean murmured, “but you’re looking at things the wrong way, darlin’. Our marriage may not be founded on love, but you’ve seen how deceptive love can be. Don’t you think we’ve better chances of staying together when our marriage is based on the truth?”
There was a long moment of silence, and then Isla said finally, “You’re wasted as a cowboy, Sean. You could earn millions if you were a salesman instead.”
Sean’s lips twitched. “Stubborn little witch.” It was becoming clear to him that she would rather eat nails than agree with him on anything. “Did you even listen to a single word I said?”
“I didn’t have to.” Isla let her eyes go wide like a besotted debutante. “You had me at ‘sugar.’”
This time Sean could no longer help it, and he threw his head back with a laugh.
“I’m serious, though,” Isla said oh so earnestly. “Roping cows or doing whatever it is cowboys do won’t get you far. Your million-dollar-future lies in sales—-”
“A million-dollar future, hm?”
“Or billions even.” A slight smile touched her lips. Their back-and-forth exchange reminded Isla of the delightful banter they enjoyed in their letters, and lost as she was in the memories, she failed to notice the way Sean’s smile no longer reached his eyes. “As long as we’re dreaming,” Isla quipped, “dream big, right?”
“Depends if you want that kind of dream,” Sean murmured.
Isla rolled her eyes. “Everyone wants to be a billionaire.”
“Are you saying you won’t be Mrs. Northwood if I can’t promise to be a billionaire?”
Isla tried not to let her pleasure show as she imagined how it would feel to have people call her ‘Mrs. Northwood’. Clearing her throat, she said, “You got it all wrong.”
“Is that so?” Isla’s expressive face told him very clearly that learning his full name – which he had instructed Charlotte to withhold – meant nothing at all to her, and Sean wasn’t certain how to feel about it.
“It’s fine,” she told him forgivingly. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to be sexist.”
His eyebrows shot up. “I was being sexist?”
“Weren’t you?” Isla’s tone was now impish. “It never occurred to you th
at I would want to be a billionaire on my own terms, did it?” Before he could answer, she said magnanimously, “But like I said, it’s fine. And if – no, wait, when – I become a billionaire, I promise I won’t hold grudges and ask you to change your name to Mr. Bouchard.”
The look on Sean’s face when she finished speaking was precious, and Isla couldn’t help laughing.
The sound was enchanting, but then – everything about her was. He had been sexist without knowing he was so, but instead of rubbing his nose in it, she had simply made her point and moved on.
This woman was truly a gift from the gods, Sean reflected, and she made him feel so damn fortunate he felt like he could draw a pat hand from a stacked deck. She was funny and articulate, smart and kind – she was indeed nothing like the so-called 3Bs that Charlotte had so scathingly spoke of, and thank fuck for that.
Isla started when Sean suddenly leaned forward, and all five senses of hers went reeling as he bent his head closer and closer. “W-What are you doing?”
“What do you think?” And still the distance between them kept shrinking.
“Sean?” This time, her voice came out an embarrassing squeak. It was almost like he was going to kiss her, she thought wildly. And if it was what he planned to do, should she let him?
Isla jumped in her seat as Sean’s breath fanned the side of her neck, her hands flying to her mouth to keep herself from gasping.
Oh God.
Would his first kiss land on her ear, her neck, her –
“I think I’ll enjoy being married to you for the holidays, Isla Bouchard.” His words were a low, wicked croon that had her squeezing her eyes shut. Anytime now...anytime now...anytime now –
But nothing happened.
Chapter Four
Sean knew the exact moment when the truth hit her, and Isla realized he hadn’t even planned on kissing her. Her eyes flew open, her cheeks turned pink, and her lips parted in silent shock. She tried to pull away right after, but Sean expected this, and his fingers had already wrapped around her wrist to pin her hand on the table. She tried to struggle, but his hold kept her in place, with her wonderfully heaving breasts pressed against the edge of the table.
“You—-” Isla searched her mind madly for some smart snappy retort to throw back at him, but dear Lord, what could she say without making it seem like she was disappointed he had not kissed her?
Sean reluctantly drew his gaze away from the mesmerizing sight of her breasts. Soon, he promised himself, he would have all the time in the world to worship those twin bounties. But for now, he could keep himself entertained by teasing and taming his redheaded goddess.
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” Sean’s meek tone made Isla feel like a sex maniac. “But my Mama told me I can only kiss the girl I’d take as my bride.”
Isla’s jaw dropped open. His mama told him what? Her incredulous gaze flew to his handsome face, and that was when she saw his lips curve into a smirk...just before his eyes slowly dipped low to linger caressingly on her chest.
Oh! This time, she jerked back and managed to forcefully yank her hand out of his hold even as she felt her breasts rising and falling at a more rapid rate. “You were playing me,” she accused, torn between vexation and chagrin. He was making it so obvious now that he wanted more than a kiss from her, but at the same time he had made it very clear to both of them that she wanted the same thing – and he knew it.
“I thought you needed a reminder of why I’d make a better husband than the idiot you used to date.” Sean’s tone was unrepentant.
But was he, really, Isla wondered. “I’m not completely convinced things will work—-”
“Because you didn’t expect to find me attractive?”
“I do not—-” A finger on her lips stilled the rest of her words.
“It’s alright, darlin’.” Sean’s tone was saintly. “You don’t need to pretend. I feel the same way, and I think it’s going to make an exciting marriage for us.”
Isla forgot what she had to say at Sean’s last words. An exciting marriage? She had always dreamt of a white wedding with Jonathan, but if anyone had asked her to describe how she envisioned her post-wedding life with Jonathan would be, ‘exciting’ definitely wasn’t the first word that would come to her mind.
A chuckle from Sean had her gaze flying back to him, and he drawled, “It’s finally dawned on you, hasn’t it?” His lips curving in a smirk at the way her brows furrowed, he said lazily, “Life with that idiot would have been a complete bore.”
“Jonathan’s not an idiot,” Isla felt obliged to point out.
“And yet you know who I’m talking about.”
She choked back a laugh. “Very funny.”
“I aim to be,” Sean murmured solemnly, “as I promised my future wife to always have her smiling.”
Her stupid heart thrilled at his words even though she was pretty sure it was only his way of flirting with her.
This is crazy, Isla thought.
The two of them were polar opposites. There was no way a marriage between them would work.
Or so she tried to convince herself.
But when Sean leaned forward to cup her chin, Isla couldn’t even find the strength to pull back.
“Stop hurting my feelings, sugar.”
Gnashing her teeth against the darkly coaxing tone of his voice, Isla muttered, “Like you really have any to speak of.”
But this only made Sean give her another one of his sinfully enthralling smiles. “I always do, where my beautiful wife-to-be is concerned.”
Isla wanted to bang her head against the table. Oh. Dear. Lord. She knew. She absolutely knew he was just laying it on thick now, but even so her stupid body still quivered at his words.
“No more thinking of another man from now on, sugar. Will you promise me that?” Although the words were uttered in his usual rich Texan drawl, the command in it was unmistakable.
Isla’s lips pursed.
“Isla?” Sean’s tone was pleasant, but the possessive glint in his eyes told her he meant business.
Isla started grinding her teeth against each other. No. Just no, no, no! She was not going to obey him. She was not.
“I’m waiting, darlin’.” The fingers on her chin started to move.
They weren’t married yet, and here he was commanding Isla like he was already her lord and master. So no, no, no –
He started to trace her lips, and Isla’s heart threatened to leap out of her chest. Pulling back, she muttered, “Okay, fine.” She would promise him the moon with it – anything, really – as long as it would stop him from touching her like that. “But you have to promise me the same thing.” Glowering at him, she spelled out, “And that means you are not allowed to think of any other woman either.”
Isla’s tone was challenging, but Sean wasn’t fooled. The shadow of fear in her gaze was too easy to read, and Sean had the strongest urge to drive his fist into Jonathan Swanson’s pretty-boy face. One day, he would make that idiot pay for hurting Isla. But for now what was more important was bringing a smile back to Isla’s bright green eyes – and Sean knew exactly what to say to make it happen.
“You have nothing to worry on that score.” Sean’s voice was solemn. “And if a moment ever comes you’re in doubt, remember this—-”
She held her breath.
“My body is yours to command.”
Isla sputtered. That was what he wanted her to remember? Seriously?
“Anytime, anywhere, sugar – just tell me when you’ll be needing proof of your ownership of my body, and I’ll be on it faster than a prairie fire with a tail wind.”
“Sean!” Shockingly erotic images flooded her mind at his too-explicit words, and Isla found herself torn between helpless amusement and a sense of attraction that only grew frighteningly stronger in every moment she spent in his company.
Soft footsteps alerted them then to another person’s presence, and seeing the server approach with their orders had Isla automatically moving
back and straightening in her seat, wanting to at least make things look proper between them on their first meeting.
Unfortunately for Isla, Sean had other plans in mind, and he waited until the server had started unloading his tray before reaching to cup her knee under the table.
A tiny gasp escaped Isla as her back shot ramrod straight, and the server – a young, thin man whose nameplate identified him as John – almost dropped the glass he was holding. “Ms. Bouchard? Are you alright?”
Isla shot Sean a furious glare, but this only made him squeeze her knee, which was now so sensitive she felt like her skin had been permanently scalded by his touch. “I’m f-fine, sorry.” She pasted a reassuring smile on her lips even as she quickly shoved Sean’s hand off her knee. “I was just, umm, so wonderfully surprised at how lovely everything looks.”
And thankfully, the food set before her was beautifully presented, a fancy fish-and-chips dish that cost a whopping four hundred dollars, with a half-dozen strips of the finest quality of Bluefin tuna coated with champagne batter and hand-cut fries cooked in goose fat and black truffle.
“I’ll make sure to send the chef your compliments, Ms. Bouchard,” John assured her with a beam. He then turned to Sean and took off the silver lid with a flourish. “Your order, sir.”
“How...appetizing.” This from a stoic-sounding Sean, and Isla had to cough several times when, upon following the direction of his stony gaze, she found herself staring at the most awful-looking dish. It was just so...green. The pasta, the meatballs, even the mashed dump on the side – everything was so...green.
“It’s exactly as you requested, sir,” the server hastened to assure the restaurant’s most important guest. Taking out the memo provided to him, he cleared his throat and read, “Spaghetti that’s green but not pesto, hence our chef’s special avocado-flavored pasta sauce and all-organic meatballs made from a mixture of bitter gourd, mushroom, and okra, and finally, mashed cauliflower and celery roots with a generous serving of Pont L’Eveque.”