No, looks alone didn’t account for what he had. A compelling mix of command, rapier-sharp intelligence, and—much as Sierra hated to admit it—concern for others for whose wellbeing he considered himself responsible were part of the sexy package that made up Michael Donovan.
It was concern for his father that had prompted their outrageous marriage contract, after all. She appreciated his concern. Her own concern for her mother had motivated her agreement to their bargain. Michael had been a considerate companion on their first date, and if sparks seemed to fly, she had to admit he had never taken things further than she had allowed.
Unlike William, who turned out not to be worth the virginity she’d given him.
Sierra snipped a long-stemmed yellow rose and inserted it in the vase, feeling heat pool at the juncture between her thighs as she recalled Michael’s hands slipping up her skirt.
Why had she melted under his touch? If they hadn’t been discovered in such a compromising situation, they could have forestalled the announcement of their engagement a few more weeks, allowing her time to get used to the situation. Now, however, there was no time at all.
Before she knew it, she heard Michael ask Grace’s permission to marry her. She took a deep breath as her mother called. “Sierra!” Surprise was evident in the single word.
Sierra gave the vase a final pat and walked into the office to set it on Grace’s desk. Time to face the music. “Yes, Mom?”
Knowing the scene demanded it, Sierra moved toward Michael who, as naturally as if he were a real fiancé, put his arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her temple as they faced her mother. She had to make this good. Her mother knew her well and would be aware of the sound of a false note.
“Is it true?” Grace asked with some concern. “You two are engaged? So quickly?”
To Sierra’s surprise, she derived comfort from Michael’s presence. It was ridiculous because he was also the author of her current predicament.
She put her own arm around his waist and rested a hand on his chest. Lights, camera, action. “Yes, it’s true. I know it’s kind of crazy, but”—his hand press warningly against her—“we both know the way we feel about each other, and so we’ve decided to, uh, you know…” Despite her best intentions, Sierra stumbled over the words as she encountered her mother’s sincere gaze.
Crap.
“Grace, what I think Sierra is trying to say is, we realize this is sudden, but when you know something is right, it’s right.” Michael looked at her mother and gave Sierra a moment to regain her equilibrium. “This feels right to both Sierra and me. I think I can speak for both of us when I say we hope we have your blessing.”
Sierra forced herself to meet her mother’s eyes. If convincing others were required to get the job done, then she would do it. “It’s true, Mom. We both want this very much. It would mean so much to both of us if you were as happy as we are.”
Michael’s arm tightened around her waist once again, this time in approval. He bent his head to press a soft kiss on her lips, for all the world like a loving partner. If only she were standing here with a man she loved.
As if that could ever happen. Sierra gave herself a mental shake. She’d given up those dreams long ago.
Grace studied her face. “Well, I can’t say I’m not surprised, to put it mildly, but if you’re certain this is what you want, sweetie, then of course I’ll give you two my blessing. You’re adults, after all.”
Then she cut a look at Michael. “I like you, but I can’t say I know you. If I find out you’ve hurt Sierra, ever, I’ll do everything I can to save her from you.” She smiled at him but there was a hint of real steel beneath her words.
Grace might have suffered at the hands of her dead husband, but there was no force on earth that would compromise her protection of her daughter.
With a sincerity that earned Grace’s slight smile, he said, “Like mother, like daughter, I see. I don’t intend to hurt Sierra, Mrs. Callahan. I intend to make her happy. If you ever have any complaints in that department, I want you to come to me so I can fix the situation.”
His response to Grace sounded so genuine that Sierra almost believed she was marrying the man of her dreams.
Damn those romance novels she’d read as a girl.
A prickling sensation behind her eyes had her blinking away tears as her mother moved to envelop them in a congratulatory hug. She was being a sentimental fool. She’d do what she had to do.
****
Michael whisked Sierra away from Claddagh an hour later with Grace’s approval, declaring he was taking her out for a celebratory lunch. What she didn’t bargain on was a stop at an exclusive retailer on Union Square.
“What are we doing here?” she asked, as he drew up in front of the store in his Jaguar. Somehow the vehicle suited the casual elegance he exuded even while wearing jeans and a t-shirt.
“We’re getting you an engagement ring.” He helped her out and guided her into the store. “I would have taken care of this in advance if I’d anticipated our hasty announcement, but this way you can pick out what you like.”
“There’s no need for an engagement ring. A simple wedding is probably necessary when the time comes, but a ring is ridiculous under the circumstances.”
Michael sighed. “On the contrary, under the circumstances I’d say it’s exactly what the situation calls for. It may not be your wish to wear my ring, Sierra, but it’s a necessary part of the impression we want to foster. This isn’t optional.”
Michael was greeted by a sales associate who recognized him. “Good morning, Mr. Donovan. It’s a pleasure to see you again, sir. How may I be of assistance?”
Seated next to Michael as they examined a selection of rings, any one of which would have paid the upkeep on Claddagh for a year, Sierra said, “I won’t let you buy me a diamond the size of the Ritz to commemorate a fake engagement.”
The clerk moved a few discreet paces away to allow the illusion of privacy.
“Are you this stubborn all the time or do I just bring out the worst in you?” Michael’s tone was conversational and only a narrowing of his eyes betrayed his irritation. “Our engagement is very real, I assure you. I suggest you accept that and choose something you don’t mind wearing every day.” He spoke in an undertone that was light, even lazy, but his eyes were sharp as he watched the inner struggle play out on Sierra’s face. “This is hardly a fate worse than death, you know. In fact, you might say it’s a first-world problem.”
“I can’t choose. There are too many, and I can’t possibly wear a ring like any of these. I’ll be mugged.”
His laugh was genuine. “Yes, you can, and no, you won’t.” At her inquiring glance, he said, “You forget. I’ll be around to keep you safe, and you won’t be going into neighborhoods where muggers hang out, I promise.”
Disregarding her wrathful look at his high-handed assumptions, he perused the rings for a moment and motioned to the jewelry associate. “We’ll have a look at this one, please.”
The man removed a platinum-set round center diamond framed with micropavé smaller stones in a setting that was both modern and classic. Before Sierra could object, Michael reached for her left hand. As at Claddagh earlier that morning, she felt a sudden jolt when they touched.
Michael was a walking lightning rod.
He slipped the ring on her fourth finger. She shivered a little.
“It fits perfectly,” he said. “As if it were made for you. See what you think.”
Sierra admired her hand, her mouth opening on a silent “oh.” He’d selected her favorite ring in the tray, though she’d tried to ignore it. What was an already beautiful piece of jewelry against the backdrop of a black velvet display came to stunning life against her pale skin. The large center stone sparkled, showing to perfection in its exquisitely crafted setting. “It’s amazing,” she breathed, turning her hand so the ring would catch the light. “But—”
“That’s the one, then.” Michael nodded at the
associate. “We’ll take it.”
Sierra began to pull the ring off her hand, but he covered hers with one of his own. “Leave it.”
Sierra was certain it was because the associate was watching that he leaned forward and took her lips in a brief but scorching kiss. It was meant for show only so word would get around San Francisco even more quickly that the eldest Donovan son had just purchased a showpiece ring for his soon-to-be bride.
Hours later her mouth still tingled from that searing kiss.
She was in so much trouble.
Chapter Seven
“I’m so glad this week is over,” Jen moaned, dropping into the velvet cushions of a 1920s sofa that had once been a theatrical prop. It was the eye-catching centerpiece of her small living room in the one-bedroom Victorian flat above her shop. Not for the first time Sierra noted how well the piece embodied her friend’s unique sense of style, as did its mix of jewel-toned, down-filled cushions. “You wouldn’t believe the customers we had today!”
“They were pretty awful.” Nora Shaughnessy agreed. A pretty brunette who worked at Jen’s boutique, she was a good friend to both women. They often spent a free night together, unwinding.
“Have some more wine.” Sierra reached for the chilled bottle of chardonnay and topped off Jen’s glass, then spread a bit of brie on a cracker from a plate on the coffee table. Savoring the creamy texture and sharp bite of the cheese, she settled back in a matching armchair, kicked off her heels, and tucked her legs under her. “It hasn’t been an easy one at my end, either, let me tell you. McKinley had clients from hell this week, and I’m still recovering from that party at the Donovans.”
“Yeah, how’s that fiancé of yours? Has he been keeping you occupied this week?” Jen eyed her and sipped her wine. “I told Nora you’d dated a hunk, but a fiancé? I sure didn’t see that one coming.”
Sierra felt a stab of guilt, knowing that she hadn’t been honest with her friends since she and Michael had struck their bargain. She couldn’t be honest with them now, either. “Well, I didn’t know, after all. Michael only gave me the ring last Saturday.”
She flexed her left hand and glanced down. There it sat, visual evidence that recent events had not been a figment of her imagination. “Anyway, things have been happening so quickly.”
“I’ll say.” Nora studied her. “Especially for someone who’s given men a wide berth for most of her life.” She smiled. “Don’t get us wrong. We’re thrilled you’ve found someone. Jen says Michael seems great.”
Jen laughed. “Calling Michael Donovan great is like calling a Bengal tiger a nice kitty. But you know what Nora means. This is pretty rapid work.”
Sierra cursed Michael’s insistence on secrecy. Jen and Nora weren’t stupid. Love at first sight and an instant engagement were out of character for her. His brothers knew the real nature of their relationship. Why couldn’t she confide in her two closest friends? At least that way she might feel less alone.
Surely, though, she could find a way to share some of her emotions, even as she adhered to the letter of her contract with Michael.
“I know what I’m doing,” Sierra said as she avoided their eyes. “But he does move in a different world, you know? The whole ‘Donovan dynasty’ thing, old San Francisco money, three tycoon sons, the father who’s the patriarch of the family. I admit it’s a little intimidating. I hadn’t expected to fall in love right now.”
The L world was an integral element of the agreed-upon script she and Michael agreed to go by, but she hesitated as she said it. She returned to a shred of the tale she could be honest about. “So yes, I think I’m feeling a little out of my element.”
Nora eyed her. “I thought you seemed off. I mean, I know he’s hot and all that, but Jen said you looked somewhat spooked on Monday after you and she had lunch.”
Sierra snorted and relaxed a bit. “You try getting introduced to a handful of Donovans and then being scrutinized by high-end jewelers and see how you like it!” She popped another brie-laden cracker in her mouth. “God, this is fabulous stuff. Did you get it at the cheese store on 24th Street?”
“Where else?” Nora knew Sierra’s weakness for triple cream cheeses. Wine, cheese, and a classic weepie or romantic movie made for a wonderful girls’ night in.
“I’ve missed this,” said Sierra.
“It’s been too long.” Nora took another sip of wine.
“Nothing better than brie and good company!” Jen served herself more cheese.
“So how are your dating lives?” Sierra asked, mouth full, hoping to shift the focus. “Seeing anyone interesting?”
“Nope.” Jen waved a cracker in the air, eyes twinkling over the rim of her glass. “You know me. I date to network for my shop and have fun, not to find love. Don’t believe in it.” She stopped herself. “Well, I mean, except for you and Michael now, of course.”
Sierra teased her and Nora. “Don’t be so sure. Michael’s got two single brothers, you know. Maybe they’re right for you.”
“Oh, I see. Now that you’re engaged, the shoe is on the other foot and you’re going to be hounding us to get paired up,” Nora laughed. “Turnabout is fair play, is that it?”
Sierra had been kidding, but suddenly the idea seemed like a good one. “I only met Rafe and Gabe the other night, but think of it this way. If Jen is going to date in order to build a professional network, then going out with one of Michael’s brothers might make sense for her. God knows the family is acquainted with everyone in San Francisco.”
Jen stared at her. “You are a matchmaker now. You must have it bad.”
“No, think about it for a minute. This could be a lucky break for you, too!” Sierra was excited, and for a moment she missed the look of sharp curiosity on her friends’ faces. “Being seen with a Donovan about town, wearing something fabulous from Threads, could only boost the store’s visibility!”
“Whoa, girlfriend. Slow down!” Jen set down her glass. “What do you mean this could be a lucky break for me, too? Suddenly I get the feeling you’re not talking about me any longer but yourself.”
Uh oh.
Sierra had gone off script. She’d allowed her enthusiasm for Jen’s business to displace the dewy-eyed engaged persona she was supposed adopt for the benefit of friends.
“What do you mean?” She stalled for time.
“I mean what’s all this about business and a lucky break, too? You are marrying Michael because you love him, right? This isn’t just about finding someone who can save Claddagh for you?”
Sierra froze.
“Because I have to say, that man is into you,” Jen said. “I’ve seen how he acts. No one can up and marry a guy just because he comes with a convenient bank account.”
How Jen could have zeroed in on something about which she was both so right and so wrong?
Great.
Did her friend really think she’d morphed into an opportunistic heartbreaker—the kind of person she wasn’t and the kind of woman Michael would avoid like the plague?
Feeling as if she’d been dropped down the White Rabbit’s hole in Alice in Wonderland, Sierra asked, “All at once I’m some femme fatale? If you’ll recall, in the past it’s been men who’ve taken advantage of me, not the other way around!”
Jen’s expression softened. “Oh Sierra, I know. I’m sorry.” She leaned forward across the table to touch her arm. “William and Grant Townsend were proof of that.”
Maybe she and Grace were missing a gene when it came to judging the opposite sex. Her father had been no prize. Sierra had been so shaken by her experience with the Townsends that she’d had her first debilitating panic attack in college. Since then, she’d minimized the attacks and kept herself safe by avoiding emotional involvement.
It was easier that way.
She still carried her past around with her, though. In spades. Remembering Michael’s anger when she had compared their agreement to prostitution, she shivered. It was true. She had issues.
Time to get off this topic and convince her friends that she was a happily engaged woman, nothing else. Sierra poured a second glass of chardonnay and directed what she hoped was a reassuring smile at them. “It’s okay. You don’t need to worry about me. Claddagh is going to be fine, and I’m marrying Michael because I want to. Really.” That part was true, anyway. “As you say, Michael’s hot and every woman’s dream. I’d be a fool not to marry him, under the circumstances.”
And maybe more of a fool for doing so.
Sierra relaxed as Nora and Jen chuckled, and the three women talked of other things. She suppressed the niggling idea she might be wrong in thinking a temporary marriage to Michael would solve more problems than it would create. She’d just have to deal with them if and when the time came.
Sierra didn’t anticipate that the time would come as soon as the next day.
Michael picked her up in the Jag, this time in khakis, a white Oxford shirt, and navy sports jacket, having told her only to dress for a day in the Napa Valley wine country. She’d protested. She usually helped out at Claddagh on weekends, but her mother waved aside her concerns. “Just go and have a good time.”
Before she left the house, Grace handed Michael a picnic basket and a small case, which he stowed in the trunk.
“What’s this? The two of you are planning behind my back?” She gave her mother an affectionate kiss goodbye on the doorstep.
Grace chuckled. “Just building a good relationship with my future son-in-law.”
Michael returned to the front steps in time to hear her words. “Lucky for us.” He smiled. “That hamper weighs a ton, and I have a sneaking suspicion your mother has loaded it with goodies no restaurateur can match. Thank you, Grace.” To Sierra’s surprise, he leaned over and kissed her mother’s cheek, and to her even greater surprise, Grace seemed pleased.
“You two go along. Have a wonderful time. If you need to reach me, call me at Claddagh or on my cell.”
Michael and she drove across the Golden Gate Bridge on a gorgeous late summer morning, bound for the famous Napa Valley wine train on which he’d made a reservation for lunch.
Buying His Bride (The Donovan Brothers Trilogy Book 1) Page 8
