Callan's Proposition

by Barbara Mccauley

  She groaned silently, remembering that Reese Sinclair owned the inn. It would only be a matter of time before her aunts learned the truth, and Abigail Thomas would be the laughingstock of Bloomfield County. I’ll change my name. Move to a small mountain town. Dye my hair and have plastic surgery.

  Gauze flowing, her aunts were halfway to the door when Ruby called over her shoulder, “We insist you both join us at the tavern for lunch. One o’clock sharp, dears. Emmy and I can’t wait to hear all the details of how you two got together.”

  “Aunties, wait.” Abigail slipped out from under the arm Mr. Sinclair had draped around her shoulders and started after her aunts, but he caught hold of her hand and held her beside him.

  “We’ll be there,” he said cheerfully and waved.

  Bracelets clacking, Emerald and Ruby waved back, then exited the room with all the grace and grandeur of royalty.

  Abigail closed her eyes, praying this was all a nightmare that she could now awaken from, and her boring little life could go right back to boring. She slowly opened her eyes.

  Mr. Sinclair’s face was no more than a foot from hers, and the hint of a smile touched his lips. She sucked in a breath as she stared at that mouth. It was much too close to her own.

  “There,” he said casually. “That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?”

  “Wasn’t so bad?” Moaning, she pulled her hand away from his and sank down on the couch. “I didn’t tell them the truth about us, and now we’re supposed to meet them for lunch? In a public place? That happens to be my definition of bad, Mr. Sinclair. Very bad.”

  She fell sideways and covered her head with a floral, fringed throw pillow.

  “Abby, first of all, if we’re going to pull this off, you’re going to have to stop calling me Mr. Sinclair. And you’re certainly going to have to loosen up a little. You stiffen up like a board every time I get close to you.”

  “Pull what off?” she said into the pillow. “And what do you mean, I stiffen up? I do not.”

  “Yes, you do,” he replied. “Now sit up.” She shook her head, then felt the couch dip as he sat beside her. Well, maybe she did stiffen up just a little, she thought, and buried her head deeper under the pillow. “Please go away.”

  “I’m not going away.” His finger brushed her cheek when he parted the fringe covering her face. “I’m going to sit right here until you talk to me.”

  “I can’t.” She tried to ignore the feel of his callused finger on her cheek and the shiver working its way up her spine. “After what I did last night, I can’t ever talk to, or even look at you, again. In fact, I’m moving to Alaska.”

  He chuckled. “And what exactly is it that you think you did?”

  Still refusing to look at him, she held up her hand and extended her index finger. “One, I told my aunts that you were my fiancé. Two—” her second finger came up “—I got drunk. Three, I…I—”

  She groaned into the pillow. Oh, God. She couldn’t even say she’d nearly stripped for him, let alone believe she’d actually done it.

  “Abby.” He said her name softly, then took hold of her shoulders and pulled her upright. When she kept the pillow pressed to her face, he tugged it away from her. “It’s okay to let loose once in a while. You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed about.”

  “Easy for you to say.” She still refused to look at him. “You weren’t the one who made an idiot out of yourself.”

  Her pulse jumped when he put a finger under her chin and tilted her face up. A midnight shadow of beard covered the lower portion of his face, and one thick shock of dark hair fell over his forehead. The rough texture of his finger under her chin sent an army of tiny shivers marching through her.

  “You didn’t make an idiot out of yourself,” he said gently. “Actually you were kind of cute.”

  “Cute?” She blinked at him. “Mr. Sinclair, please don’t patronize or lie to me.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not lying or patronizing. Now say my name.”

  “Mr. Sinclair?”

  “Callan, or Cal, if you prefer.”

  “Why?”

  He sighed. “You want your aunts to go on their trip and not move in with you, right?”

  “Well, yes, I—”

  “Then I’m your man.”

  “What?”

  “You told me that your aunts think you need a man, right?”

  She felt her cheeks burn. “Well, I suppose I may have said—”

  “So for the two weeks your aunts are here, I’m your man, Abby.”

  “You’re my man?” she whispered.

  He nodded. “For two whole weeks, I’m all yours.”

  Abigail suddenly found it hard to breathe, let alone speak. Her mind felt sluggish and heavy, but she knew it had nothing to do with the alcohol she’d consumed last night and everything to do with the touch of Callan’s finger on her chin and the way he’d said, “I’m all yours.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “I want you back, Abigail,” he said firmly. “And if that means pretending to be your fiancé for a few days, then fine. We’ll make your aunts happy, and after they leave, everything will go back to normal.”

  Normal? He actually thought that they could pretend to be engaged, and after her aunts left, they could go back to normal? She didn’t believe that for a moment. This was a very dangerous proposition he was making her. She’d be a fool to accept. A complete and utter fool.

  She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t.

  Could she? “My aunts will never believe it,” she said, though her voice sounded as if it belonged to someone else.

  “Well, we’ll just have to be convincing, then, won’t we?” he murmured. “Now say my name.”

  She swallowed hard, then squeaked, “Callan.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You sound like Minnie Mouse. Try it again.”

  She looked at his mouth again, felt her own lips tingle. “Callan,” she breathed.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth, and before he released her, she could swear his thumb brushed over her jaw. Still staring at her mouth, he cleared his throat. “Well, there. Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  No, she thought with a sense of dread. It wasn’t hard at all. In fact, it was much too easy.

  He rose suddenly, still looking at her as he tripped over the leg of her coffee table. “You don’t need to come in to the office this morning. I’ll, ah, meet you at the tavern at one o’clock.”

  “But—”

  “One o’clock,” he backed toward the front door, then closed it behind him on his way out.

  This was a bad idea, she thought and stared at the door. Bad, bad idea. They would never get away with it.

  Closing her eyes, she realized that she hadn’t even warned him about her aunts and their…unpredictable behavior. Unless Emerald and Ruby were unusually subdued, which Abby seriously doubted, Callan Sinclair was in for a lunch he’d never forget.

  With a gasp she opened her eyes abruptly.

  Oh, no.

  There was one other little minor detail she’d forgotten to mention. Only it wasn’t exactly minor, and it certainly wasn’t little.

  Groaning, she slumped back on the couch and realized the full meaning of jumping from the frying pan into the fire.

  “You want me to pretend you’re what?” Standing behind the bar, Reese Sinclair looked up sharply from the beer mug he was busy filling. “To who?”

  “Keep it down, will you?” Callan frowned at his brother, then quickly glanced over his shoulder at Abby and her aunts sitting at a table in the middle of the tavern. The lunch crowd was heavy today, and neither Abby nor her aunts had spotted him yet. “Engaged. I want you to pretend I’m engaged. To Abby.”

  Beer poured over the sides of the frosty mug in Reese’s hand. He swore, then reached for a towel. “You’re kidding, right? You and…Abby? Since when do you call Abigail Abby?”

  He’d decided that if they were going to be “engaged” he
should think of her as Abby. “Since this morning.”

  “This morning?” Reese raised both brows. “You mean morning, as in, woke up next to her?”

  “Something like that.” He’d actually woken up under her, he recalled and remembered the feel of her soft, slender body on top of his. Strange, but he could still feel the warmth of her skin on his chest and the brush of her silky hair against his face.

  Reese slung the towel over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes. “She was a little tipsy when she left here with you last night. If you’re trying to string her along to ease a guilty conscience, I’m not having any part of it.”

  “Reese, for God’s sake, will you—”

  “Abigail’s a nice girl,” Reese went on. “A little dull, maybe, but sweet. I wouldn’t like to think that my own brother took advantage of a kid like that.”

  Kid? Abby was no kid, Cal thought, remembering the womanly curves she’d been so insistent on showing him last night. And under different circumstances, with any other woman, he would have been more than eager to see that incredible body. But this was Abby, for God’s sake. He couldn’t think that way about Abby.

  “She’s twenty-six, for your information,” Cal said irritably. “And no, I didn’t take advantage of her, you moron. We fell asleep on the couch, with our clothes on, that’s all.”

  Well, maybe there was a little more than that, but whatever happened last night was between him and Abby, Callan thought, then glanced over at the table again. As if she knew he was watching her, she slowly looked up and met his gaze.

  He felt an odd catch in his throat as he stared back at her. She wore a high-collared gray sweater, and he realized it was the first time he’d seen her without a business suit—well, other than last night, but she had been wearing her suit then, too, or at least most of it. He looked at the oversize sweater she had on, the big, black-rimmed glasses, the tight knot of blond hair at the base of her neck, and he wondered why all this time she’d been hiding behind a facade of plain, when she really wasn’t plain at all. She was actually kind of pretty. More than kind of, he thought. She had really soft, smooth skin, her eyes were an unusual shade of gray-green, and that body, well, hot damn, that body was—

  “Cal, hello, anybody home?” Reese waved a hand in front of his face and pulled him out of his illicit thoughts. “What’s the matter with you?”

  Hell if he knew. Scrubbing a hand over his face, Callan dragged his gaze from Abby’s back to his brother’s. “See those two women sitting with Abby?”

  Reese glanced over and nodded. “The Bliss sisters. I checked them into their rooms this morning.”

  “Those are Abby’s aunts,” Callan said. “If they say anything about her and me getting married, just go along with it. I’ll explain later.”

  Emerald suddenly caught sight of Cal and, smiling that Cheshire Cat grin of hers, she waved wildly and yoo-hooed. Ruby joined in, and together they were more than loud enough to be heard over the din of conversation and the Rod Stewart song blaring from the jukebox. And though the song kept playing, conversation in the restaurant all but halted.

  Every eye in the place was directed at him.

  Sucking in a deep breath, he forced a smile, then made his way to the table, certain he heard his brother chuckling behind him.

  Callan clenched his jaw. How dare his own brother laugh at him? Couldn’t he see this was a serious situation? One that called for discretion and reserve? At thirty-one, and the youngest Sinclair male, Reese obviously needed to be taught a little more respect for his elders. Callan decided that he’d punch his lights out later. His brothers Lucian and Gabe and certainly Cara, his sister and the youngest of the Sinclair clan, would have a little more sympathy and be a lot more mature about this.

  But dammit, anyway, what else could he do? Callan thought. He couldn’t let Abby leave him. How could he bring another woman into his office? Abby was essential to the smooth operation of his business. And after five minutes with Francine…well, shoot, he’d rather walk naked through a blackberry bush than have that woman in his office.

  For two weeks all he and Abby had to do was act engaged. Hold hands, give a little kiss here and there, a few longing looks. How hard could that be? Both he and Abby would know it wasn’t real. That it was just an act.

  He had to admit, though, that for a moment this morning, when he’d been sitting next to Abby on the sofa and her eyes had gone all soft when he’d touched her chin, he’d felt…well, attracted. Maybe even a little…turned on.

  Okay, maybe a lot turned on.

  That’s why he’d hightailed it out of there. He was just having a momentary lapse of control, for lack of a better word. He didn’t want Abby to get the wrong idea about his intentions, or think that he’d try to take advantage of the situation. All he wanted was her back in his office, where she belonged. Once Emerald and Ruby were convinced that he and Abby were in love, then they could go on their cruise, and later Abby could tell them that they’d broken off their engagement due to…irreconcilable differences. That would give Abby a little more time to really find a man.

  And then everyone would be happy.

  Pleased with himself and his simple solution, Callan ignored the curious stares from the room and pulled out the wooden chair beside Abby. Her cheeks were flushed, her brow furrowed as she glanced up at him. When he slipped an arm around her and kissed her warm cheek, he felt her sudden intake of breath.

  He nodded hello to Emerald and Ruby, then murmured to Abby, “Hello, darling.”

  Wide-eyed, she stared at him, then hesitantly replied, “Uh, hello.”

  Callan sighed silently. They were definitely going to have to work on loosening Abby up, or her aunts were never going to believe they were engaged. He took her hand in his and kissed her fingers. They were cold as icicles. “I missed you.”

  She smiled nervously. “I, uh, missed you, too.”

  “You know, darling,” he said, rubbing her knuckles against his chin, “I thought about our conversation this morning, about rings, and I decided I couldn’t wait any longer.”

  Abby’s eyes widened as he pulled a sparkling diamond ring out of his pocket and slipped it on her finger.

  On a small sob, Emerald grabbed Ruby’s arm. “Oh, Ruby, if only our dear sister could have been here to see this. Our little Abby, all grown-up and in love.”

  “It’s a dream come true.” Ruby pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes.

  “Yes, a dream come true,” Emerald repeated. They looked at each other, smiled, then nodded.

  Abby jerked her gaze from the ring on her finger and leaned anxiously toward her aunts. “No, Aunties, please, not now—”

  The song exploded from the two women at the same time. Like a cannonball, loud and booming, something familiar about love and dreams, but Callan was too stunned to play Name That Tune. All he could do was stare.

  Which was what the rest of the people in the restaurant were doing, as well.

  Emerald was soprano, Ruby alto. Their voices blended beautifully, clear and strong. They continued for two stanzas, finished off with a chorus, then settled back in their chairs as calmly as if they’d just asked the waiter for more water.

  The crowd broke into applause. Emerald and Ruby both stood and bowed, then reseated themselves with the grace of debutantes.

  What the hell?

  Callan looked at Abby, who was bright red. She had a vise-like grip on his hand.

  “Oh, dear, I believe we’ve embarrassed Abby,” Ruby said thoughtfully. “She never was comfortable with our spontaneous performances.”

  “Nonsense.” Emerald gave her hand a shake of dismissal. “With four generations in the theater on her mother’s side and three on her father’s, how could she possibly be embarrassed? It’s in her blood.”

  Abby’s family in the theater? Well, that certainly explained a lot of things, Callan thought. Or did it? He wasn’t so sure. “Well, that was certainly—” he struggled for the right word
“—amazing.”

  “A mere pittance of our repertoire,” Ruby announced. “But we’ll save the rest for another time. Right now Emerald and I want to hear every teensyweensy, itsy-bitsy detail about you two. You start, Callan. When was the first time that you knew our little Abby was the woman for you?”

  The sisters leaned forward, their faces anxious and waiting.

  The chair Callan was sitting on suddenly felt extremely warm. Pretending to be Abby’s fiancé was one thing, but making up stories about how they fell in love—when of course they hadn’t—was an entirely different matter.

  “Mr.—” Abby caught herself, then said awkwardly, “Callan, you don’t have to—”

  He thought of Francine and shuddered, then slipped an arm around Abby’s stiff shoulders and smiled at Emerald and Ruby. “But I do have to, darling. I want to.” He leaned closer to Abby’s aunts and lowered his voice. “I never told Abby this, but I knew she was the woman for me before I even laid eyes on her.”

  Emerald laid a hand on her ample bosom. “A premonition?”

  Ruby’s eyes widened. “A dream?”

  “Definitely a dream.” Callan remembered Abby’s résumé: neatly typed, lots of office experience, could start immediately and willing to work overtime. Amidst a nightmare sea of “Francines,” Abby had truly been a dream come true.

  Ruby and Emerald looked at each other and sighed. “Now your turn, Abby, dear,” Emerald encouraged.

  “Ah…” Abby had the deer-caught-in-headlights look in her eyes as she stared at her aunts. “Well…”

  Callan gave her shoulder a reassuring hug. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart. Go ahead. When was the first time you knew I was the one?”

  She hesitated for several seconds, then her gaze lifted to his slowly and held.

  “The first time I saw you,” she said quietly. “You were standing by the copier in your office, with ink all over your hands from the cartridge you’d just changed and a big black smudge on your chin. That’s when I knew.”

  Something caught in Callan’s throat as he stared at Abby. Damn, but that theatrical ability obviously was in Abby’s blood. For one wild moment, he almost believed her.