Sean

by Kate Hoffmann

  "Don't steal coats from the beach?" Laurel asked.

  Sean chuckled. "No. Beware of beautiful women."

  "And what about me?" Laurel asked. "Are you supposed to beware of me?"

  Grabbing her waist, he rolled her over and pinned her beneath him. Staring down at her exquisite features, Sean still couldn't believe the luck that had brought him into her life. "You? I have to be very careful around you. I think you could break my heart if you wanted to."

  Laurel reached up and ran her hand over his cheek. "Why would I break your heart?" Her hand moved to his chest. "Your heart is what I love most about you."

  Sean's breath stilled in his throat as the impact of her words hit him full force. Had she just said she loved him? He should have felt a wild sense of exhilaration, and he did, for one brief moment. But then, an uneasy fear set in. He wanted to believe her words, but she'd said them so casually, tossed them out there as if they really didn't mean a thing.

  He kissed her, losing himself in the sweet taste of her mouth, hoping to soothe his doubts with the pleasures her body offered. Would he be like Kelan Quinn, lured into love and then tricked out of it? Or could he chart his own course, putting all those stories about his Quinn ancestors behind him?

  For now, he'd keep his feelings locked safely away. And someday, maybe, he'd be brave… or clever… or strong enough to hand Laurel the key.

  * * *

  "I think you'll need to replace all these windows."

  Laurel stood beside Sean, a clipboard clutched in her hand. "How much do you think windows cost? Maybe we should just try to replace the broken glass. That would be cheaper, wouldn't it?"

  Sean slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. They'd come to Dorchester to evaluate the building, but it was clear that neither of them had a clue as to what needed to be done to make it habitable. In truth, he'd have rather stayed at home, in bed with Laurel, the way they had for the past three days.

  It had been a honeymoon of sorts that began after Alistair called to say that he and Sinclair would be staying in New York for a few extra days. Night had turned into day and then back to night again and they'd been unaware of the world outside the house. They'd slept when they were tired and made love beside the pool in the middle of the night. Food varied from pizza to Chinese, whatever could be delivered. Sean had always thought of a honeymoon as a silly excuse to take a trip. But now he knew just what purpose it served. He felt as if he and Laurel had become one person, two sides of the same coin, completely in sync with each other's bodies and thoughts, needs and desires.

  He glanced down at her, noticing the tiny lines of stress around her mouth. The urge to wipe them away with a kiss was strong, but he decided against it. "We'll need screens so we can open the windows," she murmured, scribbling on her pad.

  "I think you're going to want to air-condition this place," Sean said. "You'll have to run duct work since this is all radiant heat. But you've got high ceilings and they can leave it exposed."

  "What's radiant heat?" Laurel asked.

  "Those radiators over there have hot water in them and they radiate heat instead of forced air which-" Sean sighed. "We're not going to be able to do this. Give me your cell phone." As she rummaged through her purse, Sean grabbed his wallet and found the business card he'd saved. He took the phone from Laurel and punched in a number.

  "Who are you calling? Do you know an air-conditioning guy?"

  The receptionist at Kencor answered after one ring. "Rafe Kendrick, please. Tell him it's his brother-in-law, Sean Quinn."

  A few moments later Rafe came on the line. "Sean. Hi. What's up? Is everything all right?"

  The surprise of hearing from Sean was apparent in Rafe's voice. Sean wasn't sure he'd ever carried on a conversation with his brother-in-law. He had held Rafe's arms to help out when the other Quinn men had been all set to pummel him, but that had been the extent of their contact. Rafe hadn't exactly been welcomed into the Quinn family, though the brothers had called a truce since he and Keely had married. "I need a favor," Sean said.

  "Anything. What can I do for you?"

  "I have a friend who wants to renovate a building in Dorchester. It's in pretty rough shape and she needs to get an estimate of the costs."

  "Does she have an architectural plan?" Rafe asked.

  "No, I don't think so."

  "Well, she'll need that first."

  "She doesn't have a lot of money for this project," Sean said. "She wants to turn the building into a community center for children."

  "Ah, this is the woman Amy met. Keely talked to Amy and she mentioned that you had a…" His voice faded. "Well, why don't I send over one of my architects? We'll get him started with some rough sketches."

  "How much is this going to cost?" Sean asked.

  "Don't worry about that. This is family. Give me the address and I'll send someone over. Are you there now?"

  "Yeah." Sean gave Rafe the address.

  "I'll have someone there in thirty minutes. Once your friend has a plan, I'll have someone on my staff work up some estimates. I've got a lot of contractors who owe me favors. I could use my-"

  "No," Sean said. "You've done enough. Thanks. I appreciate it."

  "No problem," he said.

  Sean turned off the phone and handed it back to Laurel. "We're all set," he said. "Rafe is sending an architect over to talk to you about your plans."

  "I can't afford to pay an-"

  "Don't worry. He's doing a favor. I'm family."

  Laurel shook her head. "Family," she repeated. "It's like the Quinns are a corporation. Is there anything you can't get done?"

  "Probably not. Amy can fund the place, Rafe can fix it up. Brian can probably write a story for the Globe and Liam can take promotional photos. Olivia could track down some used furniture and Lily could get you some good PR. And Eleanor is a banker, so she could keep track of the money."

  "And what will you do for me?"

  Sean grinned and dropped a kiss on her lips. "I provide relaxation and moral support."

  Laurel hugged him, then pulled away and wandered over to an old sink that hung from the wall. "What are you going to use your money for?"

  "What money?" Sean asked.

  She slowly turned. "The money I'm paying you. What are you going to do with it?"

  Sean had forgotten all about the money. That's what had drawn him to her in the first place, but now it seemed insignificant. "I was thinking about getting an office. I've been putting some cash away lately. It's hard to get corporate clients when I'm working out of my apartment. I need a place to do business."

  "Is private investigations pretty lucrative?"

  "For some guys." Not for Bert Hinshaw, Sean mused. The old P.I. had never even made enough to buy himself a decent suit. And now that he was getting on in years, he had nothing to show for his life, except a beat-up Cadillac convertible and a drinking habit that drained his wallet as quickly as he could fill it. Sean didn't want to end up like Bert. He wanted a life he could be proud of, a life that meant something.

  "What about you?" Laurel asked.

  Her reasons for asking were clear. A rich girl like Laurel Rand couldn't marry an ordinary guy like Sean Quinn. Hell, he usually had to scrape together spare change to pay the rent. He drove a beat-up car and didn't even own a decent suit. And she had five million burning a hole in her pocket. "I'm never going to be a millionaire like you," he said.

  "Is that important to you?"

  "No. Is it important to you?"

  Laurel shook her head. "Don't get me wrong. It's nice to have money. But I'd give every last dollar back to have a family. To have a mother and father. And sisters and brothers. People who care about me. It sounds trite, but money can't buy everything. It can't buy love."

  "It bought you a husband," Sean said.

  She smiled weakly. "But only for a month. After the month is up, you're going to go home. Maybe even sooner if Amy approves my plan." She wandered across the room and bega
n to measure the windows on the far wall.

  Suddenly, Sean regretted his call to Rafe. If Amy funded Laurel's project, then Laurel would have no use for his services. She'd write him a check and send him packing. A knot tightened in his gut when he thought about leaving Laurel. He wasn't ready to let her go, wasn't ready to be dismissed from her life. Yet he wasn't ready to ask her to marry him, either.

  There was an easy way to know how she really felt, he mused. He could simply throw all his cards on the table and admit he was madly in love with her. Sean knew he'd be able to see her response in her eyes. Over the past week he'd learned to read her feelings pretty well.

  If he knew how she felt, if he could somehow be assured that her feelings would last, then maybe he could take the chance. But he had to be careful not to expect too much. Even if Laurel did love him, what guarantees did he have that she'd feel the same way in a month or a year or ten years? Fiona Quinn had loved her husband and her family and she'd walked away when times got tough. Laurel could do the same.

  Sean combed his fingers through his hair. Why had things been so easy for his brothers and so complicated for himself? They'd all fallen in love and known exactly what they wanted in a matter of weeks.

  Maybe this wasn't the Quinn family curse at all. And maybe Laurel wasn't the woman he was destined to love for the rest of his life. Or maybe he just needed a little more time.

  Chapter 8

  Laurel smoothed the skirt of her loose cotton dress and checked the row of tiny buttons that decorated the front. "How do I look?" she asked.

  "You look absolutely beautiful." Sean grimaced as he slipped the knot of his tie up to his collar. "Are you sure I have to wear a tie?"

  She stepped up to him and readjusted the knot. "It's only for a little while. We'll have drinks and then dinner with Sinclair and then you can take off the tie. You know, you're going to have to start wearing a tie for business. It makes you look more respectable and a P.I. should look trustworthy."

  "I can get one of those clip-on ties," Sean muttered, gently pushing her hands away. He turned to the mirror and tugged at the knot.

  Laurel ran her hands over his shoulders. "I think Sinclair wants to talk to us about my trust fund. Alistair hinted that they'd discussed it while they were in New York." Her gaze met Sean's in the reflection of the mirror and his fingers stilled.

  "So then this will be over?" he asked.

  She nodded. "I'll write you a big fat check and you can go home-as soon as Sinclair leaves and the check clears the bank."

  "Is that what you want?"

  Laurel smiled, trying to appear nonchalant. No, it wasn't what she wanted, but Sean wasn't offering anything more. She'd given him every opportunity to reveal the depth of his feelings. Yet when it came to serious discussion about their future, he'd turned into a brick wall. In the beginning, she'd found his silence intriguing, but now it was a source of frustration. "That was the deal."

  "Right," Sean said.

  Taking a deep breath, Laurel walked to the door. "Let's go."

  It had been almost impossible to keep her growing feelings for Sean in check. She'd caught herself time and time again with the words on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to tell him she loved him, wanted to shout it until he believed it. But for the first time in her life, she'd restrained her impulsiveness, keeping her mouth shut and her feelings to herself. Maybe a little bit of Sean's nature had rubbed off on her.

  They walked down the stairs together, her hand tucked in his. When they stepped inside the library, Sean gave her fingers an encouraging squeeze. Alistair handed Sean a Guinness and set a glass of white wine for Laurel on the table beside the sofa.

  As usual, Sinclair didn't notice their arrival. This time his nose was buried in the latest copy of Stamp Aficionado magazine. But Laurel wasn't about to play his game. She'd go on the offensive, the way Sean had the first time he and Sinclair had met. "How was the auction, Uncle? Did you get the coin you wanted?"

  Sinclair peered over the top of his magazine. "You look different," he said.

  "Thank you," Laurel replied, wondering if it was because of the new shade of lipstick she wore or the flush of sexual satisfaction on her cheeks.

  "I didn't say you looked good. I said you looked different."

  "Well, I'm glad to see you noticed something about me. That's a positive step."

  Sinclair dropped his magazine. 'Your dress has roses on it."

  "No, these are peonies, not roses. There's a difference."

  "How did the auction go?" Sean asked, sitting next to Laurel and putting an end to the verbal sparring.

  Sinclair pointed to a wooden box on the coffee table in front of him. "She's a beauty," he said. "Take a look."

  Sean opened the box and examined the coin. "You know what I find so amazing about your coins?"

  "What is that, Edward?"

  "That the thing you love the most, you can hold in your hand." He picked up the coin. "You can close your fist around it and never let it go. No one can take it from you, either. There aren't many things in life that are so safe."

  Laurel held her breath, startled by Sean's words. Was he talking about the coin, or was he talking about her? Sinclair had done his best to chain her to this house and to his silly rules about her inheritance. She felt like one of his coins, a possession he really didn't need, but couldn't let anyone else have, a possession that he held so tightly he nearly destroyed it in the process.

  Sean opened his fist and handed the coin back to Sinclair. "She is beautiful," he said.

  "Yes, she is," Sinclair replied. He glanced at Laurel, his gaze meeting hers for the first time in years. "I suppose we had better talk about your trust fund." He moved his gaze back to Sean. "You are aware that Laurel is an heiress. Her father left her a sizable trust that he gave me the responsibility of administrating. I decided Laurel should get the money after her twenty-sixth birthday and after she married."

  "She's told me," Sean said.

  "I've structured the trust so that Laurel's husband will have no claim to the money."

  Sean shrugged. "That doesn't concern me. I didn't marry Laurel for her money."

  Laurel suddenly realized that she wasn't breathing. She gulped in a quick breath and tried to calm her nerves. She'd come into the room expecting to be handed a check. She hadn't counted on an inquisition.

  "Why did you marry Laurel?" Sinclair asked.

  "Because I love her."

  "And you expect your marriage to last?"

  Sean nodded. "Yes."

  "All right." Sinclair held up his hand and Alistair placed a check in it. Laurel tried to contain her excitement. Her dream was so close, she could almost feel it. But instead of being overjoyed, she felt a certain measure of dread. Her future was about to begin, and her present-with Sean-would be left behind.

  "With all the pressures of modern life," Sinclair intoned, "I feel that I need to make some accommodations for the possibility that this marriage might not be… oh, what is the word I'm searching for… permanent. To that end, I've decided to give you your trust fund over time. You'll get two hundred and fifty thousand today, five hundred thousand on your first wedding anniversary, a million on your second, two million on your third and the balance on your fourth anniversary. If you stay married, you'll have your fortune by the time you're thirty-one. I think this is a reasonable plan."

  Laurel stood. "This was not the agreement," she said. "You can't do this. You can't change the rules in the middle of the game."

  "I can do whatever I want," Sinclair said, straightening in his chair. "Oh, and one more condition. You and your husband have to continue to live here in the mansion. This is the Rand family home and any Rand family heirs should be brought up here."

  "Why would you do this?" Laurel demanded. "Do you want me to hate you?"

  "I want you to be happy," Sinclair said, as if the answer were obvious to everyone but her.

  "Well, this is a crappy way to prove that." Unable to contain her
emotions any longer, Laurel crumpled up the check, threw it at his head and stalked out of the room. Her body trembled uncontrollably and she wasn't sure whether to cry or to scream. She was twenty-six years old and an eighty-year-old man was pulling all the strings! If it continued like this, she'd be an old woman and still be waiting for Sinclair to throw her a few crumbs.

  She took the stairs two at a time and ran into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Sean's duffel was stuffed under the bed and she found her suitcases on the top shelf of the closet. "I'm through. I've had enough. Uncle Sinclair can just take his millions and shove them up his-" Laurel finished with a curse, then yanked open her dresser and started pulling out clothes at random. "I am out of here." A soft knock sounded on the door. "Go away!" she shouted.

  The door opened and Sean stepped inside. He crossed to the bed and stared down at her open suitcase. "What are you doing?"

  "I'm finished. I don't care about the money, I don't care about the community center. It was all just a stupid, silly dream. I thought I could do something that my parents would have been proud of, but it's impossible. I'm going to find an apartment and see if the school district will let me substitute teach. I'm going to get on with my life."

  Sean held out the crumpled check. "I thought you might want this."

  "No. I don't want any of Sinclair's money."

  "It's your money, Laurel. And this is enough to get started on the renovations. Once Amy comes through, there will be more. You can still make this work. I know you can."

  Tears pressed at the corners of her eyes and she fought them back. She wouldn't cry, she couldn't give Sinclair that last little bit of her dignity. But when Sean reached up and cupped her cheek in his palm, one of the tears slipped out.

  "I can't do this anymore," she murmured. "I can't fight him any longer." He pulled her into his arms, enveloping her in his embrace. Laurel pressed her face into his chest and sobbed. "I want my life to start and that can't happen here."

  "Just give it a little more time," Sean said. "Stay here with me tonight and see how you feel in the morning."