A Day Late and a Bride Short

by Jacobs, Holly

  He hardly knew Sarah Madison. She was simply convenient.

  She needed him and he needed her.

  There had been a time when marriages had been arranged for less of a reason than he had—than they had.

  Not that this was ever going to be a marriage of convenience.

  She was just his fake fiancée, and only for one night.

  Well, the party wasn’t until next weekend, so more than one night actually. But as soon as the party was over, the engagement would be, too. And that’s why he shouldn’t be nervous, he told himself.

  But he’d discovered that telling and feeling were two separate things, because he was still nervous.

  “Are you okay, Mr. Donovan?” Amelia asked.

  “I’m fine,” he said. But he wondered if that was true. He was about to get engaged to a woman he didn’t even know.

  “You don’t look fine, if you don’t mind me saying so,” Amelia said.

  “And if I do mind you saying so?” he snapped.

  He wished he could take the words back when he saw her face fall. Amelia was just being kind. He had no right to take his anxiety out on her.

  “Sorry,” he said. “You’re right, I’m not quite myself. I’ve got a splitting headache.”

  “Oh, well don’t go until you’ve taken something.” She rummaged in her desk drawer.

  Sarah was right, he thought. The desk didn’t fit the rest of the room. They needed something older, something more in keeping with the air of elegance the one hundred and fifty year old former home exuded.

  Maybe he could talk Leland into hiring Sarah to redecorate?

  No. What was he thinking? Once this engagement was over, if he truly had lost a fiancée, he wouldn’t want Sarah hanging around too much.

  No. Her working here wouldn’t be wise.

  “Here,” said Amelia, handing him two white pills. “Let me get you a glass of water.”

  She was gone before he could tell her not to bother, and was back a moment later with a paper cup from the water-cooler.

  “Thanks, Amelia.”

  She smiled shyly. “No problem, Mr. Donovan.”

  Dutifully he took the two pills, draining the glass. He tossed it in the garbage can and asked, “Amelia, how long have you worked here?”

  “Two and a half years, sir.” She looked nervous again.

  Iceman. That’s what people called him behind his back.

  Did he intimidate Amelia?

  He’d never really thought about it before, but now that he did, the thought didn’t sit right. Wanting to put her at ease, he said, “And for that entire time I’ve called you Amelia, and you’ve referred to me as Mr. Donovan. Don’t you think it’s time that changed?”

  “Changed, sir?” she asked, her voice little more than a squeak.

  “Donovan, Amelia. Just call me Donovan. At least when there aren’t any clients hanging around.”

  Nervousness vanished and her smile blossomed. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Thanks for the help, and for the aspirin,” he said.

  “Anytime... Donovan.”

  Knowing he was stalling and couldn’t drag out this conversation with Amelia any longer, he left the office and walked the too-few-steps next door to Sarah’s. He opened the door and the little bell over it chimed a merry high-pitched clanging.

  He stepped inside and realized that he’d never ventured into Sarah’s shop since that rainy day. She’d been unpacking boxes then.

  Now? He stood just inside the door and studied the room, as if he could get a glimpse of who this woman he was about to be engaged to really was.

  The room was done in blue. Every shade of blue imaginable, with bits of yellow and red scattered throughout. High, overstuffed chairs, small end tables, and lamps, rather than any overhead lighting. Donovan was no decorator, but he liked the effect.

  It was a warm and inviting space. Rather like Sarah herself.

  Now where did that come from? Warm and inviting? No, Sarah was desperate. That’s the only reason she’d agreed to his plan.

  Well, he’d keep his end of the bargain as long as she kept hers. He’d get her the money she was owed, and maybe even be the catalyst for a few new decorating opportunities.

  “Donovan,” she said.

  He hadn’t heard her come into the room and started at the sound of her voice. He couldn’t help but notice that she looked great. She had on a red dress that was made of some light, airy material. It swished as she walked. He liked the way it caressed her body. With any other woman, it would make him want to caress her as well. But not Sarah. This was just business, he reminded himself.

  He suddenly felt awkward and didn’t like it so he pushed the feeling away, and said, “Are you ready?”

  She nodded.

  “My car’s across the park.”

  They walked in silence, side by side, across the street and through one of the tree-lined twin blocks that made up the park at the center of Perry Square. A fat squirrel sat in the middle of the sidewalk, apparently not the least bit intimidated by them as they walked toward the police station.

  “I love the park,” Sarah said. “I like to sit here by the gazebo and eat.”

  “I know.” Donovan could have kicked himself as he heard the words come out of his mouth.

  “You know?” she asked.

  “Well, my office looks out over the park, and sometimes I can see you out here eating. You like to feed the squirrels your leftovers.”

  “You’ve watched me?” she asked.

  “Not really watched, just noticed you from time to time.”

  Since that day in the rain, it seemed he couldn’t escape noticing Sarah. He prided himself in only offering the merest nod if their paths actually crossed. But he could see her comings and goings through the park, simply because he had a perfect vantage from his office’s front window.

  “Oh,” she said.

  She looked uncomfortable. But she couldn’t be as uncomfortable as Donovan felt. “It’s not as if I’m spying on you, or anything. It’s just that I’m on the second story and my office looks down on the park and—”

  “It’s okay, Donovan. I believe you. After all, why would you spy on someone like me?”

  “What do you mean, someone like you?”

  She shrugged. “I mean, I’ve seen you leave your office with women on occasion....”

  Donovan wondered if she’d noticed him as well. She’d seen him leave his office with women? She must have noticed him. The thought brightened his mood a bit. He realized she was still talking and focused on what she was saying.

  “...and I know I’m not your type. I’ve got this awful hair and freckles. I’ve always thought I looked more like someone’s kid sister than a woman in my own right.”

  “You’re a beautiful lady, Sarah.” Though he knew it was him, it felt as if someone else had just said those words.

  He tried to think of something else to say. But thinking and talking around Sarah didn’t seem to be in the cards.

  More words came tumbling out of his mouth, seemingly by their own volition. “If you’re not my type it’s only because you’re the kind of woman who makes a man think of settling down. Not that I’m thinking about settling down. I have a practice to build, and that doesn’t leave time for anything else. If I ever marry, I’d want to be able to devote myself to the relationship, not begrudge it the time it takes. The women I date understand that it’s casual. You’re just not the casual type.”

  There. He might have gotten off to a rocky start, but he felt he’d finished well.

  “Not the casual-type,” Sarah repeated. “Which is why I’m perfect for this ruse.”

  “Oh, but it’s not a ruse, is it? We will be officially engaged. You won’t be lying.”

  They reached his car and Donovan held the door open for her. It was a short drive down State Street, one that they made in silence. As they reached the last hill before the bayfront, Donovan stared at Erie’s dock. It was crowded with cars,
full of people and activity.

  Donovan loved the bay. He remembered coming down here with friends when he was a boy. It hadn’t been this clean and touristy then. It had been a working bay area, filled with industry, fishing boats.

  The last ten years or so the waterfront had shifted from industry to tourism. New restaurants, a new dock, Dobbins Landing. A permanent home for, and museum built around, the Brig Niagara, the reconstructed ship from the Battle of Lake Erie. A new library.

  Donovan realized Sarah was silent on her side of the car.

  “I thought we’d take the dinner cruise,” he said more to break the silence than anything else. “I’ve done some work for the line, and they squeezed us in. Is giving you a ring on the top deck of a boat right at sunset romantic enough?”

  “Yes,” was her monosyllabic response.

  “Good.” He slipped the car into a parking space and looked at Sarah. She looked nervous, rather like Amelia had earlier.

  The Iceman.

  Did he intimidate her? For some reason the thought of Sarah being ill at ease with him didn’t sit well.

  “Let’s go,” he said, trying to sound soothing. “They’re already boarding.”

  ~~~

  Sarah had pushed around her dinner more than eaten it. Though Donovan had tried to start a number of conversations, they’d all fallen flat, and that was her fault. She was unbelievably nervous, even though she knew that didn’t make any sense. This wasn’t for real.

  But she was thankful dinner was over. The dinner cruise would be over soon and she’d go home, an engaged woman. One small party next week and she’d be unengaged.

  She glanced at the man standing next to her on the top deck of the paddle boat. He was certainly good looking. Taller than her, which was nice for a change. At five ten, she frequently dwarfed the men she dated.

  Donovan had silky looking black hair with this one little piece that wouldn’t quite stay in the neat style he wore. That one piece seemed to call to her. She’d like to smooth it into place, but she wouldn’t dare. It would be too familiar. Too intimate.

  Yes, he was good-looking, and successful and...well, maybe a small piece of Sarah wondered what it would be like if this was all for real.

  No. She shouldn’t imagine it Donovan was the Iceman and this was business, pure and simple.

  “I don’t think I could have timed this better,” he said, startling her.

  “Better?” she asked.

  “The sun is setting and we’re out in the middle of the bay. So...”

  He reached into his pants pocked and took out a small, black velvet box. “Sarah, would you do me the honor of being my fiancée?”

  He opened the lid. “I know it won’t be for long, and I know that it won’t be quite what a normal engagement is, but I promise that I’ll take care of your legal problems and I’ll see to it that you meet people who can help your business.’’

  He took a ring from the box. It was a small gold band, a claddagh. There was a small, well-polished stone with a greenish tinge to it, shaped like a heart in the center.

  Donovan slid it on her finger.

  Sarah jumped. Donovan’s touching her was disconcerting.

  “I didn’t even have to get it sized,” he said.

  As soon as the ring was on her finger, she pulled her hand back and tried to act as if she’d done it in order to study the ring, and not because his touch bothered her.

  “My answer is, yes. I’ll be your fiancée until after the party.” She studied the ring. “Where did you get this?”

  If she didn’t know better, Sarah would think Donovan was blushing. But that reddish tinge in his cheeks must have simply been a reflection of the rosy glow of the sunset.

  “It was my grandmother’s, but it’s older than her. Family legend has it that when Patrick O’Donovan emigrated to the U.S. with his young wife Brigit, he promised he’d bring her back to Ireland someday and gave her this ring to seal the promise. The stone? It’s Connemarra marble. He gave her a piece of Ireland’s heart as well as his own.”

  “And did they?” Sarah twirled the ring on her finger, admiring it even more now.

  “No. She died before they could go back and he didn’t have the heart to go without her. It’s come through the family since then. My grandfather gave it to my grandmother who wore it every day. It’s come down the generations with a promise that a Donovan would take the woman he loved back to Ireland.

  “My grandparents were planning the trip, but my grandfather passed away before they had a chance to go. My grandmother couldn’t go without him, either. The ring should have passed to my mother, but she never liked it—it’s not her style—so it came to me. My grandmother made me promise that someday I’d go back to Ireland with the woman I loved. She told me not to wait, like they had. Love was precious and life was precarious. She told me to savor both.”

  “Donovan. That’s a beautiful family story. But I can’t wear this.” Sarah tugged at the ring, but it didn’t slide off with the ease it had slid on.

  His hand covered hers, stopping her from trying to pull it off. “Why not?”

  “It’s special. It’s not just some pawn-store ring that would suffice for a less-than-real engagement. This—” she flashed the ring “—should go on the finger of the woman you someday truly love and plan to marry. Not just on a fake fiancée.”

  “You wanted special, you’ve got it. That ring, this proposal, is as special as I can make it. Wear it.”

  “But—”

  “Please?” he added.

  Sarah touched the small stone. It still didn’t seem right to wear a family heirloom—more than that, a family legend—but she found herself unable to say no to Donovan.

  “All right,” she heard herself agreeing.

  She needed to get her head out of the clouds and back to the matter at hand. “I should tell you that I was thinking about our engagement and realized you hadn’t taken into account one simple problem—Amelia.

  “We’re not friends, exactly. I’ve been so busy with the shop, that I don’t really have time to socialize. But we’re friendly, and I think that we will be friends. We’ve met a few times for lunch. We’ve chatted about this and that, but I’ve never mentioned dating you. I’m afraid she’ll find it suspicious that we’re all of a sudden engaged. So earlier, when I came to the office, I sort of insinuated that there might be something between us, something that had nothing to do with business. I let her think we’d been dating for a while on the sly. I hope that will be enough to make her swallow this story. After all, you’re known for being a private person, and I’ll just explain you felt what went on between us was private and didn’t want it gossiped about at the firm.”

  “That should work. Maybe you should call now and again. Let her get used to the idea,” he said.

  Sarah nodded. That made sense. “Maybe we should slip away to the park for lunch, where anyone at the firm who glances out the window could see us.”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  It was as if they’d used up all the words they had to say. And maybe they had. It wasn’t as if they were even friends, Sarah thought. They stood silently at the railing of the upper deck as the paddleboat began to maneuver back beside the dock.

  Finally the engines stopped and Sarah looked down over the railing and saw the crew lowering the gangplank.

  “I guess it’s time to go,” Sarah said, breaking their long silence.

  “How about a quick lunch on Wednesday. And then I’ll see you when I pick you up for the party next Saturday. It’s a dinner thing, so I’ll come by about five? Leland said they’re eating about six- thirty.”

  “Five is fine.” They walked down the stairs to the dinner level of the ship, then through the dining room to the gangplank. Donovan took her arm as they crossed the street to his car.

  “Where to?” he asked.

  “Uh, my car’s at the store, so you can drop me there.” Sarah didn’t want to admit that in order to conserve desperat
ely needed money, she was using her office as a home.

  The large armoire in the back didn’t hold business items, but her wardrobe. The rest of her personal belongings were stacked in boxes in the storeroom.

  If she could get the Rat to pay his debt, and maybe land a few more jobs, she could start looking for a small place. Until then, her office was fine, but it wasn’t something Donovan needed to know. After all, it had no bearing on this...whatever this was between them. And soon she’d have an apartment.

  It was easier to dream about her future apartment than to dwell on the silence that enveloped the car as they rode back up State Street to Perry Square.

  “So, I’ll see you Wednesday about eleven,” Donovan said.

  Sarah nodded. “I’ll be ready. About the party, I assume it’s dressy?”

  “I guess. I’m wearing a suit,” he said.

  She got out of the car and closed the door.

  Donovan lowered the electric window. “Oh, and fax that contract over to the office tomorrow, along with any other information you have about that client. I’ll get started on it. Maybe I can tell you something by Wednesday.”

  “Okay, I will,” she promised and started walking toward the store.

  “And Sarah?” he called.

  She turned around. “Yes?”

  “Thank you.” He rolled up the window and drove away.

  He was probably going home. Sarah realized she didn’t even know where he lived. They’d have to have a crash course on each other’s lives before they got to the party.

  How were they ever going to pull this off?

  Somehow Sarah had to make a party full of strangers believe that she’d cracked the Iceman’s hard shell and reached the man inside.

  She just wasn’t sure if she could do it.

  Chapter Three

  THEIR GET-TOGETHER on Wednesday had been a bust Donovan had had some emergency and canceled.

  Sarah hadn’t complained. Actually she’d been secretly relieved. She was reluctant to spend more time with him than necessary and had considered finding some excuse to cancel herself. But missing Wednesday’s lunch meant that they hadn’t had any time to prepare for tonight