A Day Late and a Bride Short

by Jacobs, Holly

  The only bright spot was it meant that Donovan was very persuasive: a good quality in a lawyer who was handling her case against the Rat.

  Sarah looked at her appointment book, and rather than feel thrilled at seeing so many new appointments, she felt decidedly morose.

  She felt like a fake.

  As if she wasn’t good enough to make a go of the decorating business without Donovan’s help.

  She could have asked for her parents’ help and achieved the same end. But she hadn’t. She’d wanted to do this on her own. She’d wanted to be able to look at the business she’d built, and know it was achieved through merit, not through handouts.

  Leland Wagner himself had called and was her last appointment today, and just one of five appointments for the week made by people she’d met at the party.

  Darn.

  No. She refused to think that way. Donovan might have introduced her, but she’d get the jobs on her own merit, and she’d get more because of them.

  She heard the buzzer that indicated someone had entered the building. As she walked into her outer room, she tried to work up some enthusiasm, but she didn’t feel it was all that convincing.

  “Hello, Mr. Wagner,” she said to the gray-haired man she’d met just Saturday night.

  She found it hard to believe that things had happened so fast since then. Just a weekend separated today from then. How could so many things change so fast?

  “Hello, my dear,” he said with a small nod of his head.

  “Would you like to have a seat?” She indicated a chair.

  He waited for her to sit and then took his seat as well. “First, I’d like a chance to congratulate you again, Sarah. We were so delighted to meet you at our party and were even more pleased to hear about you and Donovan.”

  “About that,” she said. “I feel a bit guilty. After all, it was your anniversary party, and yet, some of the focus shifted to Donovan and myself.”

  “What could be lovelier than celebrating a lifetime of happiness by announcing the beginning of someone else’s relationship? Truly, it was our pleasure. And Dorothy is so excited about helping with your wedding.”

  Mrs. Wagner had called earlier and said she couldn’t wait to start planning the wedding. Her excitement only served to make Sarah feel more guilty.

  “But that’s not why I’m here today,” he continued. “I came to talk to you about a job.”

  “Mr. Wagner—”

  “Leland, dear. You’re part of the family now.”

  “Leland,” she almost choked on the name, feeling like a fraud. “I really don’t want to use Donovan’s position to garner business. It really feels too much like nepotism. I’d prefer making it on my own. I hope you understand.”

  There. That was clear and to the point. No handouts for Sarah Madison, thank you very much.

  “Hasn’t Donovan told you that I never do anything to be nice?” Leland asked.

  Despite herself, Sarah chuckled. “He hasn’t but even if he did, I wouldn’t believe him.”

  “Well, that’s insulting,” the older man said with a humph for emphasis. “Do you think I’m losing some of my meanness just because I’m no longer taking court cases?”

  “Sir—”

  “Leland,” he corrected.

  “Leland, I don’t believe you ever had any meanness.”

  The older man sighed and tried to look insulted, but there was a twinkle in his hazel eyes that told Sarah he wasn’t a bit

  “Well, just to put your fears to rest.” he said, “I’ll tell you that since Donovan introduced you, I’ve done some checking on my own. I’ve seen the work you did for Ratgaz.”

  “How did you manage that?” she asked.

  “Donovan had pictures taken to use as evidence for your case. And let me tell you that my approaching you with a job has nothing at all to do with nepotism, but rather it has to do with me wanting the best. That’s why I hired Donovan to work for the firm, and that’s why I’m here.”

  ‘‘You just saw one office,” she felt compelled to point out. “And just pictures of it to boot.”

  “One office complex. You did the whole floor. It was enough. I know you’re good at what you do. The reception area at the office needs to be addressed, and I believe in the best for my firm, whether it’s hiring associates, or decorators. I’m approaching you on your own merits, not on some connection through Donovan.”

  “But—”

  “Are you telling me you don’t want the business?” Leland asked, a white, bushy eyebrow rising.

  Sarah sighed. She didn’t just want the business, she needed it. “No, I’m not telling you I don’t want it.”

  “Are you telling me you’re not good?” he asked.

  She sat up straight in her chair. “I’m the best.”

  “Well then, I’m at the right place. Now, Donovan mentioned you had some ideas already?”

  “They were just off the top of my head,” she said. “Why don’t you tell me what you were thinking, and if I agree, you can work up a more formal plan and we’ll discuss fees.”

  Sarah found herself becoming more and more excited about her plans for the reception area. And as she and Leland discussed her ideas and his needs, she almost forgot the mess she’d made of her life.

  By the time Donovan’s senior partner left, Sarah was so wrapped up in her ideas for his reception area, that she’d totally forgotten her predicament. She’d moved back into her private office and was busily trying to capture her initial ideas, when the buzzer sounded again.

  Before she could move, Donovan walked in and, without preamble, said, “How long will it take you to pack?”

  Sarah dropped her sketchpad and stood. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, we should have discussed this yesterday at breakfast, but I’ll admit, when you said yes you’d marry me, I was so unprepared, that I sort of lost my focus. And afterward, I thought a night to let things sink in, to let you adjust, was probably wise.”

  What Donovan didn’t add was he wasn’t accustomed to losing his focus...ever. He wasn’t sure he liked it As a matter of fact, he was sure he didn’t like it at all.

  “But you can’t keep living here,” he continued, a little harsher than he’d intended to, “so you’re coming home with me.”

  “I won’t live with you before we’re married.” Her lips pressed together in a stubborn line.

  Donovan was suddenly hit with the urge to kiss the tightness away.

  Kiss Sarah?

  No, that wouldn’t do. This was business, not pleasure. He had to remember that.

  “Sarah, be rational. Since we’re not sharing a bedroom, even after we’re married, it doesn’t matter when you move in. It’s not as if I’m planning to ravish you.”

  He wasn’t planning to, but that didn’t stop him from fantasizing about it. Ravishing Sarah was something he hadn’t completely been able to put out of his mind. During the daytime, he was able to relegate the thought to the recesses of his awareness, but at night...

  His dreams about her had nothing to do with a platonic business arrangement, and everything to do with her belonging to him completely, in a more binding way than any contractual bargain could forge.

  But that didn’t make sense.

  He could scarcely spare the time this arrangement was already costing him. He certainly couldn’t spare time for anything more distracting.

  “Listen,” he said more gruffly than he’d intended, “I have work to do and I don’t have time to argue. Pack your things, and move into my guest room now.”

  “No.”

  Now Sarah’s lips weren’t just stubborn-looking. No, she’d set her hands on her hips and looked ready to fight him.

  “It will simply strengthen the idea of a serious relationship in people’s minds,” he said.

  “No.”

  “I insist.” There was no accidental gruffness this time. Oh, no. It was totally intentional. Couldn’t she see that living here was ridiculous? This
was a two-room building, with a closet-size bathroom that didn’t even have a shower. She slept on a sleeper-sofa. His place would be safer and more comfortable.

  Obviously she wasn’t so easy to convince because her hands were still on her hips as she shook her head and said, “Listen, you can insist all you want to your colleagues, your clients, or the court. But your insisting means nothing to me.”

  “Please?” he asked.

  Where did that come from? Please? Donovan wasn’t the type of man who asked—he told. And yet, asking Sarah to do something for him seemed to be becoming a habit. He’d asked her to play his fiancée, asked her to marry him, and now he was asking her to move in. He wasn’t sure he liked this trend.

  Obviously Sarah was as surprised to hear him asking as he was, because she asked, “What did you say?” as if she thought she must be hearing things.

  “Please,” he repeated. The word didn’t even catch in his throat. “If insisting doesn’t work, I thought asking might. I can’t stand having you live like this. I dropped you off yesterday and went home to work on the Dawson brief. Only I couldn’t. Instead, I worried about you. This place doesn’t have any security...that’s something else we need to discuss, even if you’re not living here, a good security system is important.”

  “It’s got locks, that’s secure enough.”

  He sighed. She was going to be difficult. That was another great reason for waiting to get married...women were inherently difficult and reasoning with them took way too long.

  “Listen, it’s after hours, and I just walked right in. You hadn’t even locked the front door.”

  “I normally do after business hours, only I got so caught up in some sketches, that I forgot. I won’t let it happen again, if that will make you feel better.”

  “It won’t,” he assured her.

  “Well, I’m sorry Donovan, but I’m not moving.”

  “Fine.” He tossed his briefcase into the corner and made himself at home on the couch. “What time do we go to the Y tomorrow?”

  “What?” she asked.

  “For a shower. What time do you get up to go to the Y? And do you order dinner in, or go out? It’s obvious you do one or the other, since there’s no kitchen here. And I’m hungry, so whichever way you handle things, could we get dinner now? I can’t think on an empty stomach, and I have to finish this brief tonight.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  “If you won’t move in with me, I guess I’m moving in here until the wedding. Although—” he looked down at the couch “—I think the two of us on this sleeper-sofa might get a bit cramped. But whatever makes you comfortable and keeps you safe.”

  “You think you’re moving in here?” Sarah asked. She appeared to be trying to decide if she should laugh, or be annoyed.

  “Yes.” He eyed the small wardrobe. “And do you think you can clear out half of that, so I can hang up a few suits?”

  Annoyance must have won out because he couldn’t miss the emotion in her voice as she said, “You’re insane. You’re not moving in here. This office is cramped enough with just me.”

  “Ah, then you’ve decided to move into my place? Great. Let’s go. I’ll cook you something for dinner.”

  “No. That’s not what I meant. I meant, you’re going to your house, and I’m staying here.”

  “Sorry. That wasn’t one of the options. You’re staying with me, in my nice, big, comfortable, shower-equipped house, or I’m staying here in your small, cramped, showerless office.”

  “This isn’t a negotiation. I agreed to help you out—and have been wondering all day why—but I didn’t agree to your stepping in and trying to take over my life. Forget it, the deal’s off.”

  ‘‘Fine, I’ll see you in court then,” he said, standing.

  “You’re still going to take care of Ratgaz?” She offered a small smile, “Thank you, Donovan.”

  “There’s that. After all, our initial deal was, you be my fiancée for a night, I sue Ratgaz. You did that, so Ratgaz will pay, I guarantee you. But I’ll also see you in court because I’m suing you. Breach of contract.”

  “Suing me?” She laughed for a moment but then she looked at him and he saw the dawning of understanding in her face as she protested. “I didn’t sign anything.”

  “Ah, but you made an oral contract with me. You said you’d marry me.”

  “I changed my mind,” she said.

  “No. You’re simply mad that negotiations aren’t going your way. That’s not a good enough reason to break a contract.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “And you’re beautiful.” Did he say that out loud? Hurrying, he covered by saying, “But we still have an oral contract, and neither of those points directly impacts it. Now, the question remains—my place, or yours?”

  “I’m fine here,” she said, not really answering his question.

  “Sarah, you don’t have to live like this. I shouldn’t have come in here and just told you to pack. I should have discussed it with you. I’m not the kind of man who’s used to asking. I’m sorry. There,” he added. “I’m not used to apologizing either, but I have.”

  He paused, trying to think how to reach her and make her see his plan was best for both of them. ‘‘It’s just that I won’t get any work done worrying about you here. Last night showed me that. I’m simply asking you to stay with me, in my guest room. Nothing ominous. Nothing to compromise our agreement. I just want you safe.”

  “Donovan, you’re taking this engagement thing far too seriously,” she said gently. “Its just business. You don’t owe me anything, and even if you did, I can take care of myself.”

  “Maybe. But I’d worry if any of my colleagues at the firm were living like this.”

  “It’s not so bad.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Really.”

  He wondered who she was trying to convince, him or herself?

  “You’re seriously going to tell me you’d rather rough it here than stay at my place where you’ve got little things like kitchens and showers?” he asked gently.

  She sighed as she said, “No.”

  “Then say yes, you’ll stay with me. At least give it a try,” he said.

  He thought she was going to say no again, but finally she nodded her head. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

  “You’re going to be living there after the wedding anyway.”

  “There is that.”

  Before she could change her mind and think up any other arguments, he said, “So go pack.”

  ~~~

  Sarah realized that she’d jumped from the frying pan into the fire.

  Of course, it was a rather nice fire...that had grilled some wonderful steaks for dinner. The tantalizing odor still lingered, even as Sarah finished her last bite of the tender meat and took a sip of a nice non-screw-on-cap wine Donovan had poured her.

  She was going to get spoiled living like this. It wasn’t just the wine, or having someone cook for her. No, what she envied most about Donovan’s place was this view. Sitting on the deck, looking out over Erie’s bay. Sailboats puffed by. Powerboats occasionally rumbled past.

  She could see Presque Isle peninsula across the bay, and the occasional reflection off a car driving its length.

  Yes, she liked the view. It was marvelous. Even in the winter, when the bay would be frozen over, she’d be able to enjoy it from the warmth of Donovan’s kitchen and its wall of glass.

  “What are you thinking?” Donovan asked, breaking the silence.

  “That I love looking at the water.”

  “Me, too. I wasn’t planning on buying a condo. I wanted a house. But when the real-estate agent insisted on showing me this, I signed the papers right away because of this view.”

  “I don’t blame you. Maybe you should add something to the prenup that says I get visitation rights after we’re divorced. Say dinner, once a month just so I can enjoy the deck?”

  “You’ve got it.” He grinned.

&nbs
p; Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. Things seemed easier than she’d anticipated. Maybe, just maybe, this would work out. “You’re right you know.”

  “I know,” he agreed with a hint of laughter in his eyes. “But I’m right about so many things, what specific thing am I right about this time?”

  “If this is an example of your cooking ability, you get to keep that particular job. Make a note for the prenup, would you?”

  “Sarah gets visitation rights for my deck, and I get to cook for the length of our marriage. Anything else?”

  “I’m sure I’ll think of something,” she said.

  “I don’t doubt that in the least. I’ve been thinking about the prenup—”

  Whatever Donovan had been thinking and was going to say was cut short by the doorbell.

  “Were you expecting someone?” Sarah asked. “I could go unpack.”

  She felt uncomfortable being caught here in his home. Almost guilty. It wasn’t as if she had anything to be guilty about. This was a platonic business arrangement. She wasn’t shacking up with someone.

  Maybe that was the source of her guilt. Sitting across the table, looking out at the bay and sipping wine, she could almost forget that this was business, and begin to think it was something more.

  The idea of something more with Donovan might appeal to her if she weren’t wrapped up in this absurd charade. As a matter of fact, her sleep had been punctuated with dreams of Donovan ever since he’d slipped his ring on her finger.

  Dreams of the two of them and something more.

  “See, this living together is going to cramp your style,’’ she said.

  “I have no style, and no, I’m not expecting anyone. I’ll be right back. Just finish your dinner. You left some baked potato. Clean the plate. You don’t eat enough.”

  “With the way you feed me, I’m going to be waddling before this marriage is over,” Sarah grumbled to herself.