Make-Believe Marriage

by CA Quigg

“I’m six-two and 200 lbs, and you want me to sleep on a cot?” The bed creaked, adding all kinds of sordid images to her already X-rated thoughts. “When the fire dies, I’ll freeze to death. You’re not that cruel.”

  She smiled and imagined him curled up and shivering on a narrow bed with the sheets sliding off. “I think you’ll find I am.”

  “If you’re worried about your virtue, Quinn, it’s safe with me.”

  If only it were her virtue that worried her. She gave her head a mental shake. For crying out loud, she was a grown woman capable of keeping herself in check. It wasn’t like she’d rip his clothes off in the middle of the night and beg him to screw her. Heaven forbid.

  “Fine. Whatever.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “You can sleep in the bed, but keep to your side. I’ll make sure there are enough pillows down the middle in case you feel like cuddling something during the night.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of venturing into no man’s land. I value my life too much.”

  “I’m a light sleeper. One move from you, and I’ll bite you where it hurts.”

  “Promises. Promises.” His lidded gaze slid down her body, stopping on her bare legs.

  Shit. When was the last time she’d de-furred? A week ago? Longer. To check, she ran a foot up her calf. Less than two weeks, longer than one. Why did she even care?

  “So does that mean you’re okay sharing a bed?”

  “It’s not like I have much of a choice.” Who was she kidding? She had lots of choices, but sharing a bed with Ronan, even if he were a stranger, wouldn’t be all that bad. Would it? It wasn’t like she hadn’t shared a bed with a stranger before. But at least this time, it wouldn’t end with drunk, disappointing sex followed by a walk of shame in last night’s wrinkled clothes and smeared makeup. Her college years hadn’t been her finest.

  Quinn stood, opened her suitcase, and selected a pair of fleecy pajamas covered with cartoon Christmas kittens.

  “Very sexy.” Ronan raised a judgmental eyebrow. “You can be certain no moves will be made with you wearing those.”

  She tied another knot in her belt. “They’re not for your benefit. And anyway, look who’s talking. You’re wearing a washed-out tee and sweatpants. Lucky lady who gets to go to bed with you.”

  He stretched, causing the hem of his t-shirt to ride higher and reveal more of the delicious line of hair running down the center of his abdomen. “Got that right.” He showed he wasn’t serious by giving her a broad smile and a sexy wink.

  She bit back a smile, grabbed a lacy, black thong, and threw it on the bed beside him. “Those more your taste?”

  Using his pointer finger, he scooped up the flimsy thong so it dangled from his fingertip. “Not really. Underwear tends to get in the way. I’d rip these off in less than a second.”

  Quinn’s breath hitched, and her heartbeat accelerated. Would he use his teeth or his hands to rip them off? “Are you always this frustrating?”

  “Depends on the situation.”

  "Jerk." She hugged her PJs to her chest and marched into the bathroom. Leaning against the vanity, she took several deep breaths before facing herself in the mirror. Her eyes sparkled, and a rosy glow flushed her skin, which pissed her off even more. “Asshole. Shithead.”

  Shaking with anger and cold and something else she didn’t want to acknowledge, she shoved her pajamas on in record time. When her temper subsided enough to go into the bedroom without picking up the closest blunt object and hauling it at him, she put a wide smile on her face and opened the door.

  “I’m going to get some hot chocolate. Then I’m going to sleep.”

  “Live it up, why don’t you?” Ronan was already beneath the covers and had erected a barricade of pillows down the middle of the bed.

  “Judge me all you want, but you don’t have a clue.” She slid her feet into furry bunny slippers and left the room.

  ****

  Ronan caught sight of Quinn’s skimpy underwear and grabbed them. The scent of vanilla drifted upward—did everything of hers smell like cookies and summer? Images of inhaling her through the sheer panties while he feasted on her attacked his senses. If he didn’t stop thinking about her, he’d need to take a shower—an extra-long one.

  Balling the fabric in his hand, he threw the thong across the bed and reminded his twitching dick there was a job to do. Women like Quinn sucked men dry and left them for dust. Since Abbey had ripped his heart out and offered it as a sacrifice to Lucifer, no other woman had remained in his life for more than a month. Once women began forgetting toothbrushes or earrings at his apartment, he gave them the clichéd, ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ talk. But it was him. It was always him. If Abbey hadn’t screwed him over for her boss, then…

  Then you’d be in a loveless marriage with a woman who lies and cheats.

  He laced his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, and replayed the day he’d caught Abbey shagging her boss in their new apartment. Finding them together had almost destroyed him, and he swore no other woman would crawl under his skin again. He got it. Not all women were liars and cheats, but he had yet to meet a woman who didn’t bat her lashes or give a sweet smile to get what she wanted.

  The bitter memories of Abbey’s betrayal strengthened his resolve. Not even Quinn’s long eyelashes and greener than the ocean eyes were enough to make him give her the benefit of the doubt and back off. Until he knew better, she was the enemy.

  Quinn’s thong caught his eyes again. For fuck’s sake, there was nothing else for it, he’d have to take a shower after all.

  By the time he’d showered and dried off, Quinn was in bed with her eyes closed pretending to sleep, and Max had curled up by the fire.

  Ten minutes under the steaming jets, among other things, allowed him to think and gave him some perspective. Quinn wasn’t Abbey. He wouldn’t come clean about Brady, and he wouldn’t trust her, not yet, but he wanted to get her side of the story. Something he should have done before jumping on a plane like the ‘bloody eejit’ Caden had called him, and tomorrow he hoped his cousin would call with whatever information he’d found.

  “I know you’re awake,” he said. “We should talk.”

  “We’ve talked enough,” came her mumbled reply.

  He blew out a breath. “I know how much financial trouble you’re in. Half a mill’s a bit of a killer.”

  If she was shocked he knew so much about her business, she didn’t react.

  Silence hung between them for a few beats. “My ex-boyfriend was the finances and I was the face of Making Memories. We didn’t date long, but I loved him enough to give him a share in my business. Dumb, right?”

  “Where’s he now?” Ronan lifted the covers on his side of the bed and slid between the cold sheets.

  “In the gutter for all I care. He has a fondness for liquid lunches and powdering his nose.” Her voice showed little emotion. As if she’d resigned herself to the fact she could do nothing.

  “Didn’t you know?” The bastard Brady Gibson had a lot to answer for, but what Ronan couldn’t understand was why Brady came to him. What was he after? Ronan had nothing to give him.

  “What do you think, Sherlock?” She turned to him, her face resting a few inches from his on the white pillowcase. “You think I said, ‘please take everything I’ve worked six years to build?’ I was foolish. I thought he loved me, y’know. He had so many good ideas about the business, and for a while, he helped me build it. He knew people. Had lots of contacts, but then… then he wanted to do something so vile to newly married couples. Something that would’ve sent me to prison. I had no choice but get him out of my life.”

  “Tell me. What did he want you to do?” Ronan didn’t have to ask, he already knew the answer. The cameras in the bedrooms were all Brady’s idea. Quinn wasn’t the con artist, she was the mark, and now it looked as if Ronan was a mark too. He had nothing Brady would want, so why involve him? He plowed
his fingers through his hair. Jesus. How could he have been so irrational? So pigheaded? Was his desperation for this job so bad he believed a man who’d screwed his sister over?

  “It doesn’t matter what.” She sighed. “When I said no, he cleared out the bank accounts and left me and the business in a hole. I couldn’t pay creditors, couldn’t refund deposits.” A tear slid down the side of her face and dropped onto the pillow. “I ruined people’s dreams.” Rolling onto her back, she sniffed and wiped the heel of her hands over her eyes and held them there for a few seconds before clearing her throat. “I’m dragging myself up and getting on with it. The money from Ella’s wedding will help me pay some people back. It won’t cover everything, but it’s a start, I guess.”

  “I didn’t know.” Guilt tipped arrows pierced the center of his heart.

  “How could you know? And you being here is making a bad situation worse. Much, much worse.” For the first time since he’d gotten into bed, she looked him in the eye. “How did you find out about me? About my pitch? I need to know if someone’s leaking information about the wedding so I can stop it.”

  Under her intense and hopeful gaze, he shifted beneath the covers, and the arrows turned to bullets. He should do the right thing and tell her the truth. Give them a new start with no lies hanging between them.

  No and no.

  If she knew what he’d done, she’d make him leave and that meant he’d have no more time with her. And time with her was something he both wanted and needed. A couple of hours with her wasn’t going to cut it. Instead of telling the truth and admitting his stupidity, he’d do what he could to make it up to her. Prove he wasn’t the monster she thought he was.

  “I know someone who knows someone.”

  “Well, that someone you know just about ruined the one chance I had.” She signaled the end of the conversation by turning away and curling into a ball.

  Reaching out and pulling her into his arms would be a colossal mistake but one he wanted to make with every fiber of his being.

  Chapter Five

  The muffled chime of “Jingle Bells” from the alarm on Quinn’s phone woke her at crap o’clock. It couldn’t be time to get up already. After two hours of nightmare-filled sleep involving Lily dressed as a Chrismastime Freddie Kruger, death would be a welcome relief. Beside her, Ronan lay on his side with an arm slung over the pillow barricade. Lucky pillow.

  When she rolled out of bed, Max jumped and yipped with excitement.

  “Ssssh, there’s a good boy. Don’t wake the big bad wolf.” For once, Max listened and sat down, his spindly tail smacking off the floor. She didn’t want to wake Ronan because she didn’t want to see the look of pity in his eyes again, the one he’d given her last night when she’d revealed what had happened. Spilling her guts wasn’t something she’d planned on doing, but when he'd asked questions, she couldn’t stop pouring out her problems. So much for a problem shared is a problem halved. Slicing open her veins with a rusted knife and watching her blood spill would’ve been an easier option.

  By the time she left the room with Max under her arm, Ronan had tunneled beneath the covers. In a different reality, she would’ve spooned into him and spent the morning having headboard-shaking sex, but that wasn’t her reality and never would be.

  Lily prowled through the foyer like a starving lion ready to disembowel its prey. As usual, her phone was stuck to her ear, and she continually dragged her fingers through the blunt ends of her hair. The bruised circles beneath her eyes showed a vat of intravenously administered caffeine was needed.Stat.

  Despite Max squirming and yowling in the crook of Quinn’s arm and the mass of electronics and files balanced in her hands, she managed to wiggle her fingers toward Lily and mouth, “Good morning.” Staying professional and courteous wasn’t easy where Lily was concerned, but it was a necessity. Her greeting wasn’t returned. Instead, she received a shake of Lily’s head and a thinning of her scarlet lips.

  Lily stopped prowling and tapped a staccato beat with her foot. She was pissed. Or hung-over. Probably both. Too bad. There were too many things to figure out today, and appeasing a snippy woman wasn’t on the list.

  Max wiggled free from Quinn’s arm and scampered toward Lily. The dog must have a death wish. On top of everything else, she’d now have to deal with Lily’s reaction to a dog that looked like a lab experiment gone awry.

  The tiny canine circled Lily’s legs and jumped up, placing two tiny paws on one of her shins. Her eyes widened, and her foot ceased its constant tapping. If the bitch kicked Max off her leg or hurt him in any way, Quinn would kick her back and then quit.

  She held her breath and prayed. Lily’s lips lifted into a smile, not a smirk or a grimace, but an honest-to-goodness face-splitting smile. She hunkered down and tickled Max under the chin and behind his ears before looking at his dog tag. Maybe the ice-queen had a heart after all.

  The front door banged open, causing Max to run behind Lily’s ankles and pee on the floor. Quinn should be thankful he hadn’t peed on Lily’s thousand-dollar pumps.

  A gust of wind and a flurry of snow followed Gary, one of the contractors, into the foyer. He stomped along the floor, leaving clumps of fluffy snow in his wake.

  He shoved back his hood and wiped a calloused hand over a shaggy black beard that may or may not house a mouse or two. “Most of the men won’t be in today, love. The roads are like driving on glass. I’m lucky I made it.”

  Jittery panic flip-flopped around her stomach, and she glanced at Lily to make sure she hadn’t heard. She hadn’t. She sat on a chair by the embers of yesterday’s fire cooing over Max, who was now curled up on her lap, staring up at his new friend adoringly.

  Quinn rubbed a hand over her forehead. “I need a cup of coffee before I can process this.” The guests would arrive in a few days, and even if the castle wasn’t perfect, it needed to look a damn sight better than it did now. “Want one?” she asked, walking toward the stairs to the kitchen.

  Gary followed her. “Is the Pope Catholic?”

  “How much work still needs done?”

  “Too much. I’ll finish fixing the heat today. That way no one will freeze, but as for the rest, the rooms won’t get a new lick of paint or a cleaning. My crew’s stuck in Lifford. Unless there’s a thaw by tomorrow, there’s no way we’ll get everything finished by the deadline.”

  “Okay—” she said, blowing out a breath and placing her various electronics and files on top of the butcher’s block, “—this isn’t the end of the world, the rooms are more authentic without fresh paint anyway, and I can clean. What else?”

  “Only seven out of the fourteen bathrooms have a working shower, but the taps on all the tubs work, and the toilets flush. The cottages on the grounds should be all right with a good cleaning. They’re not as old as the rest of the castle.”

  “The bathrooms could be a problem.” She grabbed two mugs from a cupboard and filled them with coffee from an already brewed pot. “You have no way of getting a plumber here?”

  “I can take care of most of the basic plumbing issues.” Gary accepted a steaming mug from her outstretched hand. “But I’d be lucky to get one bathroom a day fixed on me Jack Jones.”

  “The shower in the honeymoon suite works, right?”

  “It does.”

  “Then everyone else will have to make do.” She held the hot mug to her cheek and mentally ran through her list. Everything was on the knife-edge of disaster but that didn’t mean she’d fall on the floor and flail her arms while screaming, ‘why me.’ Hysteria simmered inside, but she tamped it down. She needed all of her wits about her to deal with Lily, Ella, and Ronan.

  “I know you’ll do what you can,” she said, “but if you could do more than that…”

  “I’ll do me best, love.” Gary drained his coffee and set the empty mug in the sink.

  The lights flickered off for a second and Quinn’s stomach
sank to her toes. Losing power wasn’t something she’d considered and no way could it happen.

  Gary cast his eyes upward. “I’ll get to work. See if I can get the backup generator working in case the power goes.”

  “And I’ll get to work to make sure I get everything ready for the guests.” Quinn grabbed her iPad and pulled up the weather app to check the forecast. Sixteen inches of snow expected today. All flights in and out of Belfast and Dublin airports canceled. She grasped the tablet to her chest and closed her eyes. What was she going to tell Lily?

  ****

  Ronan pressed end call and kicked the pillow barrier to the ground. Grit scratched his eyes, and with a yawn, he scrubbed his hands over his face. He’d been awake until the wee hours rehashing the arsehole he’d been, and his cousin had just confirmed he was the biggest bollox to ever walk the earth. Shane corroborated what Ronan had expected. Quinn didn’t have as much as a speeding ticket to her name. Brady had cleaned out her bank accounts, stolen her jewelry and anything else of value in her apartment, and was now on the run. After everything Brady had put his sister through, why the fuck did Ronan believe his lies?

  The stress he’d put Quinn under was unforgivable. She was doing all she could to survive a crappy situation. If he had any decency, he’d leave, go to his parents’ or try to catch a flight back to New York. But if he did, she’d never make the wedding work, and even though it went against the very reason he was there, he’d help her as much as he could. But getting Quinn to accept his help would take a lot of persuading.

  Ronan opened the Today FM app on his phone and listened to the over-excited DJs talk about the worst snowstorms in fifteen years. It couldn’t be as bad as what they were saying. Irishmen were known for telling stories and exaggerating the details. He went to the window and peeled back the curtains. He took it back. They weren’t exaggerating. Twenty inches or more of snow lay in an undisturbed layer. All airports would close until Christmas Eve at the earliest. And, because it was Ireland, they wouldn’t reopen for a few days, which meant he wouldn’t get a flight even if he wanted to. If he went to his parents’ house, his mother would try to over feed him and interrogate him about girlfriends, marriage, and babies, and more than that, if he left, Quinn would fail.