by Gina Wilkins
Chloe felt her eyebrows rise as she tried to picture always-immaculate, elegant Bryan Falcon engaged in a vicious fist fight. On the other hand, she had no trouble at all imagining Donovan taking on four challengers. “Did you and Bryan win the fight?”
“Actually, they beat us both to a pulp.”
Chloe was startled into a laugh. “That’s terrible.”
What might have been a smile—it was hard to tell with this man—quirked one corner of his mouth. “We recovered.”
“So you and Bryan have been friends ever since?”
Another long pause—followed by another monosyllable. “Yeah.”
Chloe stifled a sigh and sat back in her seat. Looked as though this was going to be a long, quiet trip. She might as well enjoy the view.
It was with effort that Donovan kept his gaze focused on the road ahead instead of the woman sitting in the passenger seat. Something about her kept drawing his attention her way.
A sideways glance let him see that she was gazing out the side window at the passing landscape, a somber look on her face. Her fingers were twisted in her lap so tightly that her knuckles gleamed. She didn’t give the appearance of a woman on her way to a romantic getaway with the man she was planning to marry. Which made him wonder again why she was going along with this very businesslike courtship.
The most logical answer, of course, was that she had several million reasons—all green.
He was lousy at small talk, but he searched for something to say, a way to get her talking again so he could try to figure her out. “Bryan told me you’re in the retail business.”
She seemed relieved to be drawn out of her thoughts, even with such a lame conversational gambit. “Yes, Grace and I own a shop in Little Rock’s River Market district. We call it Mirror Images—a shameless play on our being twins, I’ll admit. We specialize in decorating accessories—unusual mirrors, mostly, but also pottery and sculpture, candleholders, carved boxes, blown-glass pieces. Many of the items are handmade and one-of-a-kind.”
Hearing the enthusiasm in her voice, he could tell her heart was in her work. Bryan had always said that no business could be successful if the owner had no passion. It was probably Chloe’s enthusiasm for her shop that had drawn Bryan to her in the first place. And maybe her smile…
He cleared his throat rather forcefully. “How’s business? Making a profit?”
Her eyebrows rose. “We’re doing all right,” she said, her tone a bit cool now.
Did she think he’d gotten too nosy? Or did she simply not want to admit that the shop wasn’t making money? He knew how difficult it was for a small business to survive. More than half folded within their first year of operation. It required a good deal of startup capital to acquire stock, hire competent employees, purchase enough advertising to catch the buying public’s attention….
He shrugged. “You’ll do better once Bryan’s involved.”
Everyone knew that Bryan Falcon had an almost magical way of making every business he backed turn a sizeable profit. Donovan was sure Chloe was well aware of her new boyfriend’s business talents—not to mention his notorious talent for charming women.
When she spoke this time, her tone was almost cool enough to deposit ice on his eyelashes. “I don’t expect Bryan to be involved with my business in any way. My sister and I are perfectly capable of running it on our own.”
“I see,” he said—which didn’t mean he believed her, of course. There was no way he’d accept that the financial advantages of marriage to one of the most successful venture capitalists in the country had never crossed her mind.
She frowned at him. “You think I’m only interested in Bryan’s money?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“No—you didn’t say it.” But apparently, she’d interpreted his words that way anyway. She sat back in her seat, her face turned away from him, her posture stiff enough to let him know she’d taken offense.
He thought about trying to apologize, but decided to let it go. For one thing, he was lousy at apologies—hadn’t made enough of them to get good at it. For another—well, hell, of course he figured she was interested in Bryan’s money. He’d met few women—or men, for that matter—who weren’t. And since her own sister had made it clear she didn’t consider this a love match, then Chloe had to have more prosaic reasons for considering marriage to Bryan.
An eminently practical man himself, Donovan supposed he couldn’t blame Chloe for keeping her eyes on the bottom line, but he still didn’t approve of this whole arrangement. Bryan deserved better than to be married for his money.
Donovan believed his friend was overreacting to his last failed romantic relationship. Bryan had been burned by a woman who had convinced him that she wanted him for himself, not his money. The truth of that ruse had been revealed when she’d gone ballistic at the first mention of the rather strict prenuptial agreement that Bryan’s team of attorneys had drafted years earlier. She hadn’t been a good enough actress to convince anyone that the extent of her outrage couldn’t be measured in dollar signs.
Because it hadn’t been the first time Bryan had been deceived, he had come to the conclusion that the only way he could be certain of a potential mate’s motives was to have everything spelled out from the beginning. He wanted children, and he wanted to raise them in a conventional two-parent family. He’d decided he should approach marriage the same way he started a new business—with legal contracts, long-term planning, calculated risks and clearly defined benefits.
Donovan had tried to point out that one didn’t choose a wife the same way one hired a financial officer, but Bryan had shrugged off the admonition. To him, it had seemed like a perfectly logical plan.
He’d told Donovan about the day in February when he had wandered into Chloe’s shop while on a break from a day-long meeting being held nearby. They’d started talking, then had somehow ended up having coffee together at the popular River Market pavilion. Bryan claimed to have known very quickly that Chloe was exactly the sort of woman he’d been searching for since he’d made the decision a few months earlier to enter into a practical marriage.
Donovan had never been accused of being even remotely romantic, but Bryan’s plan seemed too cold and calculated even for him. He couldn’t help wondering if someday Bryan was going to feel that he’d settled for less than he could have had, if he would always be aware that something important was missing.
Since he himself had no strong desire to reproduce, Donovan figured his way was easier—he didn’t plan to marry anyone. Any relationships he entered into were strictly short-term and no-strings, so motives didn’t really matter.
He was convinced that his strategy was the most practical of all.
They’d been on the road for almost an hour when Donovan realized that Chloe’s posture was still unnaturally rigid. Her hands were still laced tightly together, her short pink nails digging into skin.
“Are you okay?” he couldn’t resist asking. “My driving isn’t making you nervous or anything, is it?”
His question brought her head around. “Of course not. You seem to be an excellent driver. I’m not nervous about anything at all.”
Definitely a lie, he decided, glancing again at her telltale hands. “You just seemed a little tense.”
“I’m fine.” She looked straight ahead again as she spoke. “What is it you do in Bryan’s organization, exactly?”
He shrugged. “Whatever he needs me to do.”
“Such as escorting me today?”
Since the answer to that seemed obvious, he allowed it to pass.
“You’ve been out of the country for the past few months,” she tried again. “In…Italy?”
“Venice. I was there for almost three months.”
“That must have been very nice.”
“It was business.”
She twisted in her seat, tugging at the seat belt to allow her to look at him more closely. “Surely you took some time off for sightseeing.”
“Not much,” he admitted. “I was only supposed to be over there a couple of weeks. Problems kept cropping up to detain me. I was just trying to get everything settled so I could get back to the States.”
“You must have missed your family.”
“I don’t have family. I had a lot of work piling up here that I needed to attend to.”
“I see.” She settled back into her seat again.
Because he knew Bryan wanted him to keep Chloe entertained, Donovan tried to think of something interesting to say about his weeks in Venice. “The food was good.”
“I’m sure it was.”
“And the sunrises were nice,” he added. “I had a balcony, and I would sit out there and have coffee early in the mornings while I read through paperwork.”
The enthusiasm of her response to that made him glad he’d gone to the extra conversational effort. “That must have been spectacular!” She lifted her clasped hands to her chest as she apparently tried to visualize the scene he’d described so sparingly. “I’ve always wanted to travel. To see some of the places I’ve only read about until now.”
“When you marry Bryan, you’ll be able to travel as much as you want.” As he was sure she was aware.
She lowered her hands slowly to her lap. “If I marry Bryan,” she corrected him, her voice a bit cool again.
“The gossip columnists seem to think it’s all been decided.” And he imagined the rumors were correct. Despite her affront at implications that she would marry Bryan for his money, why wouldn’t she want to marry a multimillionaire who could take her to all those places she’d always wanted to visit?
She wrinkled her nose. “That’s something I’m still having trouble getting used to—being in the gossip columns, I mean.”
He shrugged again. “You’d better get used to it. For some reason, people seem to be fascinated with Bryan. Everything he does makes the papers.”
Money, he thought, had a way of drawing attention. Combine a lot of money with Bryan’s good looks, impressive family background, unerringly shrewd business decisions, personal charisma and single status, and the result was that he was included on every Most Eligible Bachelor list published in North America.
Just the hint that Bryan’s name might soon be removed from those lists had the gossips all abuzz with curiosity, despite Bryan’s efforts to keep his personal life private. Someone had apparently tipped off the tabloids about his interest in Chloe, much to Bryan’s displeasure.
That was another reason Bryan had asked Donovan to play escort on this trip. He’d been concerned that Chloe might find herself annoyed by reporters. Donovan rarely had that problem. For some reason, they took one look at him and quietly put away their notebooks.
“One of the so-called reporters called me Zoe,” Chloe muttered, “and another said it was Grace that Bryan’s been seeing.”
Donovan wondered if her disgruntled tone was because she’d been in the papers at all—or because they hadn’t gotten her name right. “The way your sister was talking earlier, I doubt that she appreciated seeing her name linked with Bryan’s,” was all he said.
Chloe winced. “No, she didn’t.”
“What does she have against Bryan, anyway?” Maybe Grace was jealous that she wasn’t the one poised to marry a multimillionaire.
“It isn’t Bryan, exactly. She’s just worried that I’m making a mistake. Grace has a little trouble trusting people—especially wealthy, powerful men. She’s convinced herself I’m going to end up bitter and humiliated. Unlike some people,” she added pointedly, “my sister knows I want more from a marriage than financial security, and she doesn’t believe I can find those things with Bryan.”
“And why is that?”
“She suspects that Bryan is playing me for a fool, and that he has no intention of settling down and raising a family.”
“Bryan does what he says he’ll do.”
“You’re very loyal to him.”
Because she could never understand how much he owed Bryan—and because it wasn’t any of her concern, anyway—he let the comment pass without remark.
They fell quiet again then. Donovan had run out of things to say, and Chloe seemed to have relaxed, if only marginally. Or perhaps even riding in uneasy silence seemed preferable to making stilted conversation with him.
He supposed he couldn’t blame her for that.
Chapter Two
They’d been on the road for almost two hours when Donovan nodded toward a small convenience store ahead. “We’re just past the halfway point of our trip. I could use a cold drink. How about you?”
“A cold drink sounds good.”
He flipped on his turn signal, automatically glancing in the rearview mirror as he did so. A big, extended-cab pickup was right on his back bumper, followed by a blue, soccer-mom minivan. The van had its signal on, too—no surprise, since there wasn’t another convenient place to stop for several miles ahead.
Because his gas tank was still more than half full, he drove into a parking space on one side of the small store. The only open space available, it lay in deep shadow. Though it wasn’t a particularly cold day, Donovan felt a chill go through him when he turned off the motor. He’d learned to trust feelings like that; he looked around before opening his door. Everything looked fine—a couple of older-model vehicles, several work-weary pickup trucks, and the soccer-mom van, which was parked at one of the three gas pumps.
Chloe eyed him quizzically. “Are you supposed to be my bodyguard?”
That whipped his head around, his eyes narrowing as he stared at her. “What makes you ask that?”
“Something about the way you checked out the place just now—all tense and alert, like a Hollywood version of a secret service agent.”
His reply was more curt than he had intended. “I’m no bodyguard. Do you want to go in with me or wait out here?”
She reached for her door handle. “I’ll go in.”
He followed close on her heels as they stepped out of the shadows and around to the front of the store. She glanced over her shoulder at him when they entered. “If you’ll excuse me a moment,” she said, motioning in the general direction of the restrooms.
He nodded and turned to a wall-size cooler filled with soft drinks. He found himself watching the restroom doors during the brief time Chloe was out of his sight, though he couldn’t imagine why he was suddenly so antsy.
This whole situation probably had him unnerved. Bryan was supposed to be making this trip, but he’d been detained in New York and had arranged to meet them at his Ozarks vacation home. He’d asked Donovan to make sure Chloe got there safely. In a couple of hours, Bryan would become Chloe’s companion, and Donovan could get back to his own life—which, admittedly, consisted mostly of work.
Chloe joined him at the cooler, reached inside and selected a diet cola. They carried their selections to the register, setting them side by side on the counter. Chloe started to open her purse, but Donovan already had his money in hand. “I’ve got them.”
She looked as though she wanted to argue, but his expression must have let her know there would be no point. The purchases paid for, he handed her the diet cola and motioned toward the door.
A cloud passed in front of the sun just as they stepped outside, plunging the parking lot into even deeper shadow and making the brisk breeze that skipped around them feel suddenly colder. Once again, Donovan found himself moving closer to Chloe’s side.
Chloe looked at him curiously. “Is something wrong?”
He was being foolish, of course. This wasn’t one of the rare operations during which he had to flinch at every sound, search every shadow, or suspect every bystander of being armed and dangerous. All he was doing was escorting Bryan’s girlfriend for a few hours. Not an assignment he would have chosen for himself, but certainly not a hazardous duty.
Chloe found herself sneaking glances at Donovan again during the remainder of the quiet ride. She regretted that he had slipped on a pair
of dark sunglasses when they’d left the convenience store. His face had been difficult enough to read when she could see his eyes, as little as they revealed. Now, all she could see was the hard line of his jaw—which wasn’t encouraging conversation.
He would probably be perfectly happy if they completed the rest of the trip in silence. Even when he’d tried to make small talk, he hadn’t been particularly friendly. Maybe she shouldn’t take it personally. Maybe he was this way with everyone, although she found it hard to believe that charming, congenial Bryan Falcon’s closest friend had the personality of granite.
She couldn’t say this trip was starting out promisingly. But, at least, she had never had any trouble talking to Bryan, she reminded herself. Just the opposite, in fact; they’d chatted almost like old friends from the first time they’d met.
If Bryan felt more like a good friend than a potential lover—well, that was something she was hoping to overcome during the next few days. Bryan was handsome, personable, intelligent, amusing, attentive—everything a woman could want. She was quite sure that once they were alone, away from the pressure of public scrutiny, their relationship would progress naturally.
She wasn’t looking for blazing passion in a marriage, she reminded herself. She wasn’t expecting to fall desperately in love—nor to be blindly adored in return. She’d sought those romantic myths before, only to be repeatedly disappointed. She would be content now with security, respect, affection and, most of all, children—and Bryan had almost convinced her he wanted exactly the same things.
Why couldn’t Grace understand how appealing his offer sounded?
As for Donovan—Chloe risked a glance at the stern-faced man behind the wheel. He’d made his disapproval clear enough. Did he really think of her as a scheming gold digger, or was he, like Grace, completely turned off by the businesslike way Bryan and Chloe were going about this courtship? She doubted that Donovan harbored any romantic illusions about love and marriage. She would bet he was convinced she was only after Bryan’s money, that Bryan was the one being used.