Michael’s face was inscrutable. “Okay, I’m willing to change topics for that. For now.”
“So…we need to figure out what we’re doing,” Sierra said. “Or else it could happen again.”
Michael smiled at her then, taking another sip of his wine. Leaning forward, he slipped a hand beneath the hem of her suit skirt that had hiked up a little when she’d lifted herself onto the bar stool.
“Oh, it will happen again, Sierra. No amount of talking in the world can stop that.”
Chapter Eleven
“Wrong.” Sierra’s tone was flat as she headed for the comfort of the living room couch. “It can’t happen again.” She didn’t know whether she was telling herself or Michael, but she was a little desperate.
“Because?” He sat in the armchair opposite her.
“Because I don’t want it to!” She was the worst liar, but it was critical Michael believe her. There was no other way to protect herself.
Self-protection was her default mode.
If they continued to sleep together, she would lose her heart to him altogether. She’d never recover. The discovery of her love was still new. If she pulled back now, she might emerge from the debacle at the end of their time together able to heal and move forward. With or without panic attacks.
“You certainly seemed to want to last night.” Michael studied her face.
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to. I’m saying that I won’t continue…”
“Having sex?”
Not making love. Which told her everything she needed to know. As if she didn’t already know that he didn’t love her.
“Do you know how rare our chemistry is, Sierra? Do you want to give up what we share when we don’t have to?”
“Chemistry.” She hated the word by now. “Yes, we have that.”
But what did they share, really? Fabulous sex was enough for Michael, but since this morning it could never be enough for her. Not without some emotional investment on his part. He didn’t have that to offer. Not to her.
Even if he had, she was in no psychological state to handle it.
When she didn’t elaborate, he continued, “Are you sure I can’t persuade you otherwise?”
That was the problem. She was sure he could if she allowed him half a chance.
She managed a light laugh. “Napa and last night were…great. I’m not saying they weren’t.” She shrugged, feigning a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “But it was just sex.”
He wore an inscrutable expression. “Just out of curiosity, then, how do you suggest we proceed from here?”
She’d thought about that. “Easy. We’re both adults. I’ll sleep in one of the other bedrooms. This place is enormous.”
“If we find ourselves attracted to each other again?”
Again? How about still?
“Uh, we ignore it.” Weak, admittedly, but it was the only suggestion she could come up with. “We’ll give each other lots of space. After all, we only have to do this for the next several months.”
Michael stared at her and then laughed a little harshly. “Right. Just remember, this is your idea, not mine.” He moved back to the kitchen and cleared up the remains of their dinner. “Time will tell just how successful this little idea will be.”
It wasn’t very successful at all in the weeks that followed, Sierra had to admit. She and Michael established a careful, shared routine that involved long days at their respective offices and lots of time away from each other.
On the weekends Sierra helped out Grace at Claddagh as she had done before she got married. When Grace protested Michael would want to see more of her, Sierra assured her that she was happy to help out. Michael was fine with it.
What did Michael care? It’s not as if he missed her. He spent most of his weekends either at the office or at his study at home, buried in work.
Weeknights were most difficult. While both she and Michael put in time well past the traditional close of business, they usually met back at the penthouse. Sometimes there were social engagements to attend in the evenings, usually related to DEI’s business contracts, and in those instances, they masqueraded a loving, newly married couple. Connor was almost fully recovered, and Sierra was glad. Still, she found it agony to circulate at cocktail parties and to sit next to Michael at public dinners. On the surface he seemed the quintessential devoted husband in love with his beautiful new wife.
If only.
In front of others Michael was attentive, complimentary, and hands-down irresistible. At one event there was dancing, and Sierra, no longer shy about her abilities on the dance floor or a stranger to Michael’s body, reveled in being held close to his handsome, lithe strength. They didn’t talk but she felt the pulse of his arousal against her belly. and she felt an answering liquid fire. Their silence seemed to intensify the brush of their bodies, despite their clothing. Michael drew her to him with a muted groan, pressing his hips to hers and burying his lips in her neck. But by mutual agreement, it never went further than that.
It was torture to resist the attraction, and with each day Sierra fell more in love, despite the distance she was determined to keep, and her ever-present fear of Grant’s threats.
When they were at home, they shared a neutral rapport. It was so polite it bordered on formal. Sometimes they watched a movie on his entertainment center. Occasionally they sat with their laptops, each working on their separate accounts. They were civil and conversational.
It was awkward.
Horrible.
To add to the strain, there was an ever-present sexual awareness they were careful to ignore. Sierra avoided even the most casual of touches, and it seemed to her Michael did the same. They shared the space in the apartment as if they were each surrounded by separate force fields.
If it weren’t so painful, it would be laughable. They were more diffident with each other than the most casual platonic roommates. The hour would approach for them to retire. Sierra usually excused herself first to go to her room, heart and body aching, while Michael watched her with a brooding gaze and wished her a terse good night.
Not that good nights were possible. Her norm was to toss and turn, all too aware of Michael’s presence in the next bedroom, and to fall asleep only after hours passed, body burning for his touch.
One day Michael went to London, Paris, and Berlin on a business trip. “I need to take care of some final negotiations for the new hotel acquisitions there, and the DEI team can’t handle the negotiations without me.”
“Fine.” What was she going to say? He looked eager to go when the S.O.S. came in from one of his senior vice-presidents. Sharing an apartment with him, no matter how large, was stressful. No doubt he felt the same way.
“I’ll take you to the airport.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll have my driver take me.” He was already absorbed by the paperwork.
They shared a careful goodbye as he left.
“I’ll text you,” Michael said, hesitating a moment before giving her a chaste peck on the cheek. He was gone.
She had no idea what they were doing anymore.
Other than trying to survive the remaining few months of a sham marriage with a minimum amount of fallout before dissolving their contract and going their separate ways.
She was, after all, just a bought bride.
****
“So how’s our favorite sister-in-law?”
From behind the bar where she drew pints for the Saturday late-afternoon customers, Sierra flashed a smile. “I’m your only sister-in-law, Gabe. Hey, Rafe. What are you two doing here?”
“You have two brothers-in-law,” Rafe observed, taking a stool next to his twin. “Who’s your favorite?”
“Now that would be telling.” She placed a couple of pints before them. “On the house. How’ve you been?”
Since the wedding, she’d developed a genuine affection for Michael’s brothers.
“Good. We thought we should see how you’re doing with Michael away.”
&nbs
p; “I’m fine,” she said, not looking at them. She wiped down the counter and called out a greeting to some new arrivals. She continued in a low voice, “It’s not as if Michael and I are a couple in the usual sense of the word, right?”
Sierra found their knowledge of the true nature of her marriage a comfort. Around them, at least, she didn’t have to pretend.
Except for the matter of hiding her love for their brother.
“Well, you don’t look fine.” Gabe tossed a few peanuts in his mouth. “You look thin and pale.”
“Thank you so much. Michael said the same thing before he left.”
“Maybe you’re overdoing things,” suggested Rafe.
She shrugged. “No more so than usual. It’s a busy time at McKinley, that’s all, and my mother can always use the help on the weekends. I like keeping occupied.”
Grace breezed into the bar from the back, ruffling the tops of the two brothers’ heads as if they were schoolboys instead of grown professional men. Like her daughter, she’d grown fond of them since Sierra and Michael were married.
“Two of my favorite guys.” She turned to Sierra. “Josh helps me plenty on the weekends, and so does our other staff. Rafe and Gabe think you’re overdoing it as well.” She addressed the brothers again. “See if you two can convince her to take a break, guys—from her job as well as the pub. Doesn’t she look as if she needs one?”
“She sure does.” Gabe smiled at Sierra as she shot him a dirty look.
“I missed a lot of work in the weeks leading up to the wedding. Now is not the time to ask for a vacation.”
Grace shook her head. “I keep telling Sierra she ought to leave McKinley and do the marketing and branding for Claddagh so we can expand one day. She’s got a lot of expertise and connections that we could use, and she’d enjoy it. Michael agrees with me.”
“He does?” Sierra was astounded. This was the first she’d heard of cozy tête-à-têtes between Michael and Grace.
“You think my son-in-law and I don’t talk? You’ve always wanted to use your skills to build Claddagh. Michael supports that. You two must have talked about this.”
There was a lot they hadn’t talked about, apparently, if Grace and he were having private chats about how Sierra should conduct her career.
He didn’t have that right.
It’d be one thing if she and Michael were an ordinary married couple. Then they would have discussed how they’d like to proceed with their shared life together.
But for Michael to give her mother the hope that Sierra could to quit her job at McKinley when he knew they’d be going their separate ways in the near future? That was unkind and irresponsible.
Sure, she was slated to walk away with a hefty chunk of cash, but it would take that amount and more, over time, for her to afford to devote herself to the pub full-time. She couldn’t quit her job anytime soon, and Michael must know that.
“Michael and I talk about a lot of things, Mother.” Sierra lied through her teeth. They’d avoided talking about anything of substance since the second night of their marriage. Mostly she was to blame. “That doesn’t mean I’m ready to up and quit my job at McKinley all of a sudden. Besides that, I’ve worked hard to get where I am.”
Grace sighed. “I know that. Right now I just want you to get some rest. But I still think Bruce would give you some time off if you asked for it. You know how fond he is of you.”
Gabe intervened. “We’ll try to talk Sierra into taking it a little easier in the next few weeks.”
Sierra sighed. “Obviously arrogance runs on the Y chromosome in your family. I can take care of myself, and don’t think you’re going to sweet-talk me into anything I don’t want.”
Grace patted her cheek. “We know that, baby.” She gave her a kiss. “Gentlemen, enjoy the rest of your afternoon and evening.”
As Grace left, Sierra shook her head in exasperation.
“She loves you very much,” said Rafe.
“Yes, she does. But she has no way of understanding how things really are between me and Michael. I can’t explain to her why what she has in mind isn’t an option right now.”
“About that,” Gabe began.
“About what?”
“It’s none of our business, of course,” he continued, looking uncomfortable.
A Donovan male, uncomfortable? A rare occurrence.
Sierra frowned. “Come on. Spit it out.”
A conversation with Gabe and Rafe was like watching a relay race. The conversational baton shifted to Rafe.
“You and Michael.”
Sierra was certain Michael was discreet enough not to have discussed their sex life with his brothers. They had been responsible for conceiving of the no-strings bargain in the first place. What were they getting at?
She stalled for time. “I don’t know what you mean.” She scrubbed a nonexistent spot on the bar. “You know our agreement. We’ve got another few months to go and then we’re done. Over. As planned.” She looked at them and pasted a wide smile on her face. “It’s worked out fine, right?”
“Has it?” When Rafe adopted this manner, he reminded Sierra of no one so much as his older brother.
“Well, hasn’t it?” she countered. “Connor’s better. My mother and I have been able to save our house and the pub. Why are you asking? Or rather, why are you asking me rather than Michael?”
The baton shifted back to Gabe.
“Michael hasn’t seemed quite himself in the past month. Quieter. Moodier. Every time Rafe or I try to ask him about it, he bites our heads off and says there’s nothing wrong, but even Connor is noticing now.” Gabe took a long pull of his drink. “When it starts impacting our father, that’s when we feel the need to investigate.”
“Oh.”
“That’s it?”
“Guys, I don’t know what you expect me to say. If there’s something Michael wants you to know, he’ll tell you.”
Rafe intervened. “Look, we realize it’s not cool to ask you to tell us something Michael would rather keep private.” He smiled. A charming smile. Sierra’s uh-oh antennae went up. “But is there anything you’d like to share with us yourself?”
Like what? They’d had mind-blowing sex? She knew it wasn’t part of the bargain, but she’d fallen in love with their brother? He didn’t love her, but she’d live? Oh, and by the way, she was an emotional basket case?
“Nope,” Sierra managed. Her eyes pricked with unexpected tears at the look of real concern on the two brothers’ faces. “But thanks, you guys, for asking.”
****
“It’s kind of you to have me here.” Lydia addressed Sierra over her glass of wine, settling into the couch in Michael’s living room.
With a politeness she didn’t feel, Sierra replied, “When you called last night and said it was me you wanted to speak with, not Michael, I was curious. As I told you, he’s not due home from his trip until late tomorrow evening.”
“That’s all right. As I told you, I want to see you, not Michael.”
It was a weeknight and Sierra had had another long day, made longer by Michael’s absence. Despite the awkwardness and tension between them, she missed him while he was gone, and the evenings seemed longer without him.
If Lydia wanted some time with on her one of those evenings, it might be an opportunity to find out if Grant had been talking about her. They’d come to the reception together, after all.
Lydia seemed different from the past times Sierra had seen her. She was a degree or two warmer, though not friendly. She looked spectacular, as always, her dark good looks highlighted by a cranberry sweater and black trousers, her short chin-length hair cut in its usual bob.
Sierra, with her flyaway curls she could never control, wearing a rumpled suit at the end of a hard workday, felt at a distinct sartorial and emotional disadvantage.
Calling upon the manners that Grace had instilled in her, Sierra asked, “It’s thoughtful of you to bring by a wedding gift. Shall I open it now or w
ait for Michael?”
Lydia waved away the question. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a vintage bar set I thought you and Michael might like. I’m sorry it’s late.”
“Not at all.” Sierra tried to be friendly.
Lydia’s past antagonism seemed absent. Nevertheless, Sierra still wished she weren’t there. The truth was, she was jealous. Loving Michael made the thought of him involved with anyone painful, particularly a woman who was beautiful and certain of her long-time status in Michael’s life.
Sierra wasn’t certain of anything.
One of her many problems.
“Would you like a little more?” She topped off Lydia’s glass.
“Aren’t you drinking?”
“I’ll have a glass later with my dinner.” A pointed indication Sierra did have plans for later and they didn’t include her. As subtlety and politeness went, it wasn’t one of her best moments. But it seemed that subtlety wasn’t the order of the evening.
“Married life treating you well?”
Well, that was certainly putting things on the table.
Nerves a little frayed, Sierra decided to be direct as well. “Why don’t we get straight to the point?” She set down the wine bottle. “You could have sent your wedding gift, as most people have done, but you decided to bring it here and to do it when you knew Michael wasn’t home. Do you have something you want to say to me?”
Lydia fiddled with the strap of her handbag, then looked at Sierra. “I want to pass along greetings from someone Michael doesn’t know but you do. Grant Townsend asked me to say hello.”
Sierra’s heart sank. What had he told her?
As if reading Sierra’s mind, Lydia honed in on the topic Sierra least wanted to discuss with anyone, let alone Lydia. “Grant told me some interesting things about your past.”
Assuming a calm she didn’t feel, Sierra blew a curl out of her eyes. In truth, she was so tightly wound she wanted to scream. “What sorts of things?”
Lydia eyed her. “Do you really want to know?” She paused. “It’s not flattering.”
“I don’t think you came here intending not to tell me whatever it is you have to say, Lydia. So yes, I really want to know.” Sierra willed herself not to be sick. She had to hear what the other woman would say.
Buying His Bride (The Donovan Brothers Trilogy Book 1) Page 14
