“We need to spend a day together to feel more comfortable in each other’s company. And because it’s expected.”
Sierra remembered how she’d stumbled through her conversation about their relationship with Jen and Nora. Maybe he had a point.
“I can’t believe you’ve grown up in San Francisco and never taken the wine train,” Michael said, setting an easy tone as they sped north of the city.
“And I can’t believe you want to ride on it. You and your family must know the wine country well. I’m surprised you have an interest in such a tourist attraction.”
He shot her a glance. “You must think we’re terrible snobs. The wine train is beautiful, and I happen to be a fan of trains. What’s not to like?”
“Probably nothing.” A little abashed, Sierra admitted, “It’s always been on my list of things to do, but I never had the time or money.” She admired the view of Sausalito. Perhaps she had been a snob of sorts herself, making unfounded assumptions about Michael and his family.
No perhaps about it, she was forced to acknowledge, once she and Michael parked and were aboard the train. He was enthusiastic, pointing out its highlights. Boasting restored Pullman dining cars from the second decade of the twentieth century it also featured a mid-century Vista Dome car from which passengers could appreciate the views of the Napa Valley as they dined.
Traveling a loop through the valley for three hours, there was ample time to appreciate the beauty of the countryside and the expansive vineyards, as well as the luncheon that was served. Sierra found herself relaxing over their four-course meal.
“First Bijou and now this,” she teased, mellowed by the glass of sparkling wine they drank. “I’m going to get fat as a result of our contract if you keep plying me with delicacies like these.” She took a bite of her fish, prepared fresh in the onboard kitchen, and savored it. “Mmmm.”
Michael watched her across the table covered in snowy white linens.
“What?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious, putting down her fork. “Do I have something on my face?”
“You’re gorgeous. And your enjoyment of food is very sensual.” He speared a piece of his coq au vin and held it out. “Taste it. It’s delicious.”
Sierra would have balked at the request if it had been uttered in Michael’s usual commanding tone. His voice bore no trace of it now, though. There was something about the rhythmic throb of the train along the tracks on this warm late summer day, combined with the effects of the wine and the man she was with, that seduced her.
She accepted the bite, chewing the seasoned chicken. It was wasted on her. It turned to dust in her mouth. .
His wasn’t a business-like look. Nor was hers.
She had difficulty swallowing.
“It’s wonderful.” She cursed the breathiness of her tone. Moistening her lips, she saw Michael’s blue eyes darken. She reached for her water glass.
To her horror, however, she knocked it over, sending a stream of ice-cold liquid across the expanse of the table and into his lap.
“Dammit!” He swiveled out of the way and rose from the table.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Sierra leaped up as well, grabbing her napkin. In a flash she was by his side, trying to blot the liquid, first from the table and then from his trousers. Despite her efforts, the stain spread over his crotch. She dabbed it, intent on cleaning up the mess she’d caused.
Hands clamped like steel around her upper arms. “Enough!” Michael’s tone was grim and he hauled her up to face him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Trying to help!” Sierra waved her napkin at him in agitation, making another wave at his water-stained pants.
“Well, you’re not, so stop it before I throttle you!”
“What is wrong with you?”
“I should think that would be obvious!”
Sierra was about to make a final pass with the napkin but froze. In her haste to sop up the dampness of his pants, she hadn’t stopped to notice the all too evident signs of Michael’s arousal. She noticed now. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh,” he said. “I suggest you just stand back if you don’t want me to embarrass us both.”
At that moment the server appeared with new linens in hand. “Allow me, sir. We’ll freshen your table immediately. If you like, I can arrange to have your pants dried and pressed when we return to the station.”
Gesturing to Sierra to sit, Michael resumed his seat. “No need. I have a change of clothes in my car, and it’s a warm day. They will dry in the course of the trip. But thank you.”
Abashed, Sierra took a few minutes to regain her composure.
How could desire flare so quickly between two people? Not only did they not know each other well, they also had trouble maintaining an argument-free conversation. She remembered Michael’s last words.
Making a bid for nonchalance, she asked, “Do you always keep a change of clothes in your car?”
“Is that so odd?”
“No, I suppose not.”
But something seemed off. She remembered her mother had handed him a case as well as a picnic basket when they left the house.
“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” She tried to keep the sudden suspicion out of her voice.
He studied her across the table while their entrées were cleared and they were presented with their desserts and coffee. “I thought we’d take in a couple of wineries, and we could do a little wine tasting.” He took a sip of his coffee. “We can pick up a bottle to enjoy with the picnic dinner your mother packed and find a quiet spot to enjoy it. It still stays light late at this time of year.”
“What else did my mother pack?”
Leaning back, he shrugged. “What else do you think she packed?”
“I’m not here to play twenty questions. She handed you something else as well as a picnic basket. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but I’m thinking about it now. What’s in it?”
“Ah, that.” He smiled. “She prepared an overnight bag for you with a few essentials. Come to think of it, I believe Jen and Nora might have added an item or two as well.”
****
Michael watched in fascination as Sierra’s face clouded with anger. He couldn’t decide if it were directed at him or Grace and her girlfriends. He didn’t have to wait long to find out.
“They packed a bag for me? And you were in on it?”
Michael sat back and wondered again what it was about Sierra that made her different. She wasn’t as beautiful as some of the women he usually dated. God knows she wasn’t the easiest woman to get along with.
In fact, she tended to fight him at every turn, whether it was dancing together, settling on a time to announce the engagement, or buying a ring. But she had spirit and guts. How many other women would tackle the financial problems of her family with such creativity and determination?
He saluted the man who would fall in love with her. She’d be quite a handful, and the man would need to keep his wits about him. He was glad all he had to deal with was an attraction to her. It was useful in creating an image of a loving couple—that was all.
He didn’t want more.
“Contrary to the impression you appear to have, there was no deep-dyed plot among us. Your mother and friends put their heads together and thought we might want to spend a night alone in a romantic setting. I let them assume that’s what was going to happen.”
“Why?”
“Because it enhances our credibility. Why else?” Exasperation laced his tone. “Believe me, if this were a conventional engagement, we would be doing exactly that. And since we both want to create a believable scenario for our friends and family, it’s exactly what we’re going to do!”
For the umpteenth time he cursed Rafe and Gabe for coming up with the idea of buying a bride. When the three of them had discussed it, it had sounded like a feasible, if unusual, business plan. Michael hadn’t gotten as far as he had in the corporate world by adhering to in-t
he-box thinking. But he hadn’t bargained for resistance at every turn from his hired fiancée.
In fact, no emotions or complications of any kind played a role in the no-strings scenario he’d imagined. That was the beauty of the plan. He didn’t intend to let them get in the way now. Sierra had agreed to their contract because she needed his money, and she was prepared to walk away at the end of their deal. That was fine and the way he had planned it.
Okay, he was attracted to her. He liked her. He could deal with the first, admit the second, then ignore both. God forbid he should forget the lessons of his father’s history and fall for a woman who valued him only for his money.
That was one mistake he wouldn’t make.
“Look, Sierra, there’s no reason to get upset. We’re getting married soon. I explained that we’d be investigating one of the DEI resorts up here as a possible wedding location, and they drew their own conclusions.”
She didn’t look appeased. “I don’t care what you let them think. I am not spending the night with you!”
Ohforgodssake.
“The hell you’re not,” he grated, all good humor gone. “Despite the fact that you appear to view it as a fate worse than death, presenting a convincing picture of ourselves as lovers is a key part of this bargain. This is something else that’s not negotiable!”
Was that steam coming out of her ears?
“I’ll tell you what’s not negotiable. My going to bed with you is not negotiable.” Sierra raised her voice. Michael winced as heads of fellow diners turned in their direction. He opened his mouth to warn her, but she charged ahead.
She was a magnificent sight when her wrath was up.
“Do you hear me? I. Am. Not. Going. To. Bed. With. You. Tonight!”
Too late she realized she and Michael were surrounded by the silence of onlookers as they strained to overhear an interesting lovers’ spat.
He sighed, the chance to save both of them from embarrassment now past.
Shrugging, he glanced around the car and flashed a smile at the other passengers. Throwing down his napkin, he stood, taking Sierra’s hand, and maneuvered them toward the next car.
“My bad,” he said, looking back at the diners. “It would seem that the lady has a headache.”
Chapter Eight
After her outburst, Michael steered her there, sat next to her, asked if she were comfortable, and then ignored her for the duration while he scrolled through messages on his cell phone.
She made one attempt to talk about what happened, but he shut her down. “This is not the time or place to discuss the matter further. We’ll wait until we’re alone.”
Mortified by how she’d overreacted, Sierra bit back a response to his high-handedness.
In the parking lot, Michael made no further mention of the possibility of wine tasting and instead set a course for the Hermitage resort, still in silence.
It was only mid-afternoon. The last thing Sierra wanted was to spend any more time together.
“It’s still early enough to get back to the city today,” she said as they approached the resort. “We’ve taken our little romantic ride. Let’s just go back.”
He shot her an impatient look. “Are you always this self-focused? Our trip has a two-fold purpose. I need to check out the hotel for DEI and meet with the general manager, and your ridiculous behavior hasn’t changed that.”
“What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”
“Oh, I don’t know. How about enjoy yourself? Take advantage of what the place has to offer? How hard can that be?” He shrugged. “Or you can continue to fixate on your fantasy that I’m hell-bent on getting you into bed.”
She lapsed into silence again.
They were given a large double room with a veranda overlooking the hills. Large and sprawling, set on the edge of one of Napa Valley’s finest vineyards with a view of the vines from many of its windows, the resort catered to every conceivable need. Tuscan-style buildings were scattered across the landscape, encompassing secluded accommodations, a full-treatment spa, a four-star restaurant, meeting rooms, and landscaped grounds.
If she hadn’t been so rattled by their exchange on the wine train, she might have enjoyed the opulent surroundings. Michael insisted to the manager he preferred to examine the regular guest rooms rather than take advantage of the suite that was always kept free for use by his family. She didn’t argue with his choice lest he believe she cared about the luxury he could provide or think her a prude at the thought of sharing a bed that a traditional double room would contain.
She’d been histrionic enough for one day.
If their engagement were conventional, everyone—including herself—would expect them to share a room. They’d just have to figure out the details of sleeping arrangements later.
She was about to offer a belated dignified apology when they reached their room, but Michael cut her off once again. “I’m going to meet with the general manager to review operations. It’ll take a few hours. I’ve arranged for you to have carte blanche here, so explore the resort to your heart’s desire.” He handed her one of the two key cards. “Or not, if you prefer to sulk.”
He went left the room without a backward glance. She groaned aloud and flopped into one of several comfortable armchairs. For the first time in the few weeks she’d known him, Michael was angry with her.
He’d been affronted by her comparison of their agreement to prostitution. He’d argued with her over the timing of the announcement of their engagement. He’d been exasperated by her reactance to accept a ring from him.
But now he was angry.
Honesty compelled her to admit she was the one at fault. The unexpected prospect of spending the night with him had rattled her and pushed her to overreact. Because of the undeniable desire for him that she was having trouble denying to herself? Sierra chewed her lip.
Their mutual desire had been instant. She’d been uncomfortable with that. But it meant that they were able to create a believable impression of a couple in love.
The attraction had grown during their date at Bijou. She remembered the passion they’d shared on the dance floor. In the secluded privacy of the chauffeur driven car.
She’d been an active participant that evening.
She had to admit that Michael had been nothing but kind in his behavior toward her, both before and after their shared intimacies.
Even when the attraction had flared between them again at the cocktail party, he’d taken care to shield her and steps to protect both her reputation and his own when they had been discovered by Lydia on the veranda.
And that was the crux of the problem. Not so much the sexual attraction. After all, they were both adults and it was no crime. No, what terrified her was the fact she liked Michael. As a man. As a person. William and his father had thought money entitled them both to a woman’s body. The sex with William had been coercive and mediocre at best. Men like her father and the Townsends had soured her and scared her off relationships.
But Michael seemed to be the exact opposite of William. In striking their business deal, he’d specified clear terms and boundaries intended to protect them both and to avoid emotional or sexual exploitation.
It was liking him that made her so antsy now. Michael seemed to be a great guy. But history had proven her judgment flawed, just as it had her mother’s.
Furthermore, liking played no role in their contract. Mixing business with pleasure had been a disaster where William had been concerned. She wouldn’t make that same mistake twice. She was old enough to know better now.
She recalled her declaration to the entire dining car not to go to bed with Michael that night.
It’s not as if he’d even asked.
He had a normal male reaction to a surprisingly intimate, unexpected moment between them during lunch. And what did she do? She’d behaved like an immature teenager. All in all, her track record for the day was pretty dismal.
It was time to get a grip.
&nbs
p; A knock at the door announced the arrival of Michael and Sierra’s two bags and Grace’s picnic basket. With some relief she turned away from her thoughts and ushered in the bellhop, who pointed out a disguised mini-fridge where she could store perishables from the hamper. He showed her the workings of the deep tub in the tiled bathroom and handed her the guest portfolio outlining the resort’s attractions.
Determined to relax, she unpacked the basket. No sense in letting perfectly good food go to waste. They could repack it the next day, and Grace would be none the wiser that her plans for a romantic picnic in Napa Valley hadn’t been realized.
Cold roast chicken, deviled eggs, tortellini salad with prosciutto, and fresh strawberries. A thermos of coffee. Two beautiful vintage napkins matching a colorful mid-century tablecloth. Plates, utensils, carefully wrapped wine glasses.
It would have made a lovely, casual early-evening spread somewhere on a hillside overlooking the valley or in a nearby park. She’d scotched that with her bad temper earlier.
She ran a hot bath, adding a handful of lavender bath salts to the water. A bottle of complementary wine chilled in the fridge. She poured a glass, shed her clothes, and grabbed the guest portfolio.
Since they were there for the duration of the afternoon and evening, she’d enjoy the Hermitage’s attractions. It was time to salvage something of the day. Easing into the hot, scented water with pleasure, she leaned back and opened the folder.
Four hours, one bath, and a host of spa treatments later, Sierra felt like a new woman.
She returned to the room wrapped in a soft white robe and matching slippers, just as the sun was setting. Boneless and more refreshed than she had been in weeks, she placed her key card in the lock.
And ran smack into a freshly showered Michael, clad only in lightweight sweatpants that rested low on his hips. Startled, he reached to steady her as she stumbled against him, and for a moment Sierra was bought close against the warmth of his bare chest with its dusting of dark hair. He smelled of soap and a tang of citrus, and something that was his own unique scent.
Buying His Bride (The Donovan Brothers Trilogy Book 1) Page 9
