The Mighty Quinns: Sean

Laurel cursed inwardly. This was getting ridiculous! She’d nearly married another man today and she couldn’t stop fantasizing about a guy she barely knew. “I’m not paying you to trust me. I’m paying you to marry me. If it will make you feel better, I’ll put it all in writing.”

He thought about the offer for a moment longer, then sighed. “All right. I suppose I could help out. I could use the money.”

Laurel threw herself into his arms, unable to contain her joy and relief. But when he slipped his hands around her waist and held her just a bit longer than proper, she found herself wondering what it might feel like to kiss Sean Quinn. “I—I’ll write out our agreement while you get ready.” She hurried to the door, then turned around before she opened it. “You’re not going to back out on this, are you?”

Sean picked up the tuxedo and looked at it critically. “With that right jab you’ve got? I’d be fool to make you angry again.”

THE DOOR CLOSED softly behind her. Sean released a tightly held breath, then shook his head. “What the hell am I doing? I’ve got to be insane.” He glanced over at the window and wondered if he could get it open and crawl out before she returned.

The day had started out with such promise. He was going to close a big case, take a sleazebag off the street and collect a nice fat fee. But he’d made an error in judgment by offering to do a favor for that sleazebag and look where it got him. He hadn’t needed Eddie’s hundred-dollar fee; he’d already had a good day financially. Greed had gotten him in this mess.

He thought back to the tale of Ronan Quinn, how the wolf had nearly eaten him because he’d gotten a little too greedy. Now he had a chance to collect a tidy ten thousand acorns from Laurel Rand, just for pretending to be Edward Garland Wilson.

It would be ten hours’ work maximum, at a rate of one thousand dollars an hour. He’d have to be a fool to turn that down. And what did he have to lose? His only real plans this evening had been to stop by Quinn’s Pub and have a few beers, then go back to his apartment and type up the bill. And Laurel Rand was right—he hadn’t signed any marriage license, so the whole thing was off the books. Just a charade for her high-society wedding guests.

Sean slowly unzipped the garment bag and withdrew the tuxedo. He checked the label, noting the fancy designer name. The jacket looked like it might be a little small and the pants on the short side, but at least the shirt collar wouldn’t choke him.

This was certainly not what he had in mind when he thought of marriage. Of course, he’d never thought of marriage for himself at all. Sean had been told all the cautionary tales of his Mighty Quinn ancestors—as had his brothers. But Sean had been the only one in the family to recognize that the odds were against all six brothers being able to achieve eternal bachelorhood. When his oldest brothers had fallen victim, he had assumed that his odds for avoiding matrimony had improved considerably.

But there was a part of him that envied his five brothers—and even his little sister, Keely. They’d all found something that he’d never once experienced in his life. Sure, there had been women, even a few who imagined themselves in love with him. But not one had come close to touching his heart—a heart that he’d kept well protected over the years.

His attitude about marriage might not have been so harsh had he a decent example to follow. His father had been horrible at it. And his mother had been…Sean paused. He used to think of her as an angel, the perfect mother. But that had changed one day, shortly after his fourteenth birthday, when he’d learned the truth about his parents’ marriage.

He shook his head, pushing the thoughts aside. His father’s imperfections and his mother’s infidelities were in the past—so why couldn’t he forget them? A shrink might say he had trust issues, but Sean didn’t believe in that kind of psychobabble. He was who he was and there was no use trying to analyze it. He just had to live with it.

Sean took a deep breath, shrugging out of his jacket and dropping it over the back of a chair. Then he stripped down to his boxers and tugged on the finely pressed black trousers. He’d just pulled the zipper up when the door opened.

Laurel Rand slipped inside and hurriedly closed the door behind her, turning to face him. For a moment she froze, staring at him mutely, her gaze dropping to his naked chest, then flitting back up to his face. His eyes met hers and for a moment he was struck again by her beauty. But then he forced himself to look at her rationally. She’d just learned her groom wouldn’t be attending the wedding, yet she’d seemed to accept the news without hysterics and tantrums.

Sean rubbed his hand over his abdomen, his muscles still tense from when she had punched him. Every instinct told him that Laurel Rand shouldn’t be trusted, but the money was just too good to resist. Ten thousand dollars didn’t fall into his lap every day. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I’ll do it.”

A tiny smile curled her lips and Sean took satisfaction in the knowledge that what he was doing had pleased her. She really was extraordinarily beautiful, especially when she smiled. Some might think her mouth a little too wide or her cheekbones too high. Taken alone, each feature of her face wasn’t all that pretty. But when put together, she had a beauty that he found arresting.

She slowly approached and handed him a folded piece of paper. “I wrote it all out,” she said. “And…and I wrote you a check. It’s dated for the day after tomorrow.”

He took the paper and the check, then grabbed the tuxedo jacket and put them both into the breast pocket. “Thanks.”

“Aren’t you going to read it?” Laurel asked.

He shrugged as he slipped into the pleated shirt. “I trust you.” Sean stared down at the front of the shirt. “No buttons,” he said.

“Oh, there are studs,” she said, grabbing up the garment bag and fishing around until she found a card. “Here.”

Sean fumbled to get one off the card, but his fingers were clumsy with nerves. It dropped to the floor and skidded beneath the chair. “I never could figure these things out,” he said, bending to retrieve the stud.

“Let me,” Laurel said, taking the errant stud from his fingers.

He stood in front of her, the shirt gaping open. When her fingers brushed his skin, a current of sensation rushed through him. He held his breath as she worked at the studs, trying to focus his thoughts on something other than a vivid fantasy of her smoothing her palms over his naked skin and brushing away the shirt altogether. Of her damp lips trailing across his—

She glanced up at him and Sean sent her a weak smile.

“Do they fit?” she asked.

“They?”

She sank down, picked up one of the black patent leather shoes, and held it out. Sean slipped it on his left foot and found it had to be two sizes too big. “They’ll be all right.”

“No,” she said. To his surprise, she reached down the front of her dress and came back with a wad of tissues. “Here. Stuff some into the toes.” She pulled out more tissue and tossed it over her shoulder. “I didn’t need the cleavage anyway.”

He bit back a chuckle. Her honesty was disarming. “Aren’t you nervous?” he asked.

“Why would I be nervous?”

“Aren’t all brides supposed to be nervous?”

She ran her hand over the front of his pleated shirt. “I’m not getting married today,” she said. “You saw to that.”

A trace of anger colored her voice and he immediately felt regret for his part in her distress. “I’m sorry,” Sean said. “But I think it’s for the best.” He paused. “Did you love him a lot?”

Her hand stilled on his chest and she fixed her gaze on the shiny pink paint on her fingernails. “I obviously didn’t know him,” she said in a resigned tone. Laurel forced a smile. “I suppose we should talk about what’s going to happen. You have been to a wedding before, haven’t you?”

“Quite a few lately,” Sean said, thinking of his married siblings.

“Good, then you know how it works. You’ll go up to the front of the church and wait for me at the altar.”

“Do I have a best man?”

“No,” Laurel said. “Edward phoned me last night to tell me his brother, Lawrence, couldn’t make it. He had a family emergency, something about his pregnant wife. But then, that might have been a lie. He probably doesn’t even have a brother.” She reached for his tuxedo jacket, then held it out for him. “It’s a traditional service. Short and simple. Just listen to the minister and repeat everything he tells you to.”

“I can do that,” Sean said, turning away from her.

She slipped his jacket over his arms, then smoothed her hands across his shoulders. “That’s not such a bad fit,” she said. “I need to go get my bouquet and to talk to the photographer, so I guess I’ll see you at the altar.”

Sean slowly turned back to face her. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Laurel nodded, then started for the door. But she stopped before she opened it. “One more thing,” she said. “Can you act as if this is the happiest day of your life?”

“I can try,” he said.

She slipped out of the room. Sean grabbed the shoes and stuffed a wad of tissue in each of the toes. He found socks in the garment bag and quickly pulled them on before slipping into the shoes. He wanted to make this work for her. He wasn’t sure why. He only knew that she was in trouble and she’d asked for his help.

And there was something about her that drew him. He didn’t have to measure every word he said with Laurel. She’d been bluntly honest with him, told him what she needed and how she felt. He hated the games that went on between men and women, the coy looks and the subtle innuendo, the advance and retreat meant to lead to the bedroom. His brothers were good at the game, but Sean always felt as if someone hadn’t shown him the rule book.

Laurel Rand didn’t play games. When she didn’t like what he had to say, she punched him in the stomach; when she needed his help, she simply offered to pay him for it. She hadn’t tried to manipulate him into something he didn’t want to do. He had to admire a woman like that.

When he finished tying his shoes, he made an attempt at the bow tie, but each time, it turned out lopsided. After the fifth try, he decided to settle for crooked. He raked his hands through his tousled hair, then stared at his reflection. He didn’t look too bad. “This has got to be the strangest day of your life, boyo,” he muttered before turning and walking to the door.

He walked down the hall. In the distance, he saw Laurel standing in front of the entrance to the sanctuary. She turned and their eyes met for a moment. A hesitant smile touched her lips and Sean gave her a little wave. He stopped and held out his arms, then slowly turned so that she might approve of his appearance. She laughed, and then her three bridesmaids turned to look at him.

Sean pulled open the door and slowly walked up the side aisle of the sanctuary. He found the minister waiting for him in a small anteroom. “Well, we’re almost ready to get started,” the minister said. “Are you ready?”

“I guess,” Sean murmured.

“I know you didn’t have a chance to attend the rehearsal, but the service will be pretty straightforward. Just listen to me and I’ll guide you through it. Any second thoughts?” he asked.

“What?”

“Marriage is for life, son,” he said. “If you’re not ready, then we don’t have to walk out there.”

“I’m ready,” Sean said.

“Then let’s go.” The minister walked out the door and Sean had no choice but to follow him. He didn’t have any idea what kind of sin he had just committed by lying to a minister. If he lied to a priest he’d be eternally damned, but the Episcopalians might be a bit more lenient on that point.

The minister stopped at the head of the center aisle. “You wait for your bride here,” he whispered. “Then take her hand and come to the top of those three steps.”

“Got it,” Sean murmured. Take her hand, then up the steps. Take her hand, then up the steps. Though there was no reason for him to be nervous, he was. He didn’t want to mess this up for Laurel. It seemed to mean so much to her.

Organ music suddenly filled the church and the doors opened. Slowly, bridesmaids dressed in pale green dresses marched down the aisle. When they’d arranged themselves in a line opposite Sean, the organ music swelled and Laurel appeared. Her veil obscured her face and even though he couldn’t see her features, he’d never seen anything more breathtaking. For a moment Sean wondered if this was how a real groom was supposed to feel. But then reality intruded and he remembered that the next fifteen or twenty minutes would mean nothing at all. It was all just a charade.

When Laurel reached him, he took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm. Together, they stepped in front of the minister. The ceremony passed without any major mistakes. Sean kept his eyes straight ahead until they had to exchange rings. He held her hand as he slipped the ring onto her finger and was surprised at how her hand trembled when she did the same. Yet he still couldn’t bring himself to look into her eyes.

When the minister finally said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Sean breathed a silent sigh of relief. That hadn’t been so hard. But the next command made his stop short. “You may kiss your bride.”

Sean blinked and turned to him. “What?”

The minister leaned closer. “Lift her veil and kiss the bride,” he said.

Sean looked at Laurel for her approval. Through the thin veil, he saw the tight smile on her face. “Kiss me,” she murmured. “And you better make it good.”

Sean didn’t have to be told more than once. He took the bottom edge of her veil and lifted it over her head. Gently, he took her face between his hands and stared down into her wide eyes. Then, slowly, Sean brought his mouth down on hers. He had only meant to linger a few seconds—after all, this was a kiss meant purely for public enjoyment. He’d make it good. But the moment his lips touched hers, he couldn’t seem to get enough.

He lost all perspective, forgot about the wedding guests watching them and the minister standing close by. Instead he focused all his attention on the sweet taste of her mouth, the way her lips parted hesitantly and the soft moan that slipped from her throat as he touched his tongue to hers.

Sean wasn’t sure how long it lasted, only that when he finally pulled back, there was a polite round of applause from the wedding guests. “How was that?” he murmured, his mouth still hovering over hers.

“N-nice,” she said in a shaky voice. Then the organ started playing and Sean, satisfied that he’d offered up his best effort, turned and held out his arm. As they started down the aisle, he glanced over at her to find her with the same stunned look on her face that he’d seen when he’d opened his eyes from the kiss.

Sean got the distinct impression that she’d enjoyed the moment as much as he had. Well, at least Laurel Rand was getting her money’s worth. And if she wanted more, he would be happy to provide it.

2

THE RECEPTION WAS ELEGANT yet subdued, held at the Four Seasons, one of the city’s most magnificent hotels. A small combo played dance tunes at one end of the room while guests relaxed at tables scattered around the dance floor. Laurel was quite pleased with how it had all turned out, after all the planning and the careful coordination. It had been a perfect wedding—except that the groom was in jail and she had “married” a stranger instead. But thankfully, no one had noticed anything amiss.

It was a wonder she had been able to get through the dinner at all. First there had been the toasts and then the obligatory kisses for the crowd. After their kiss in the church, Laurel didn’t think it could get much better. But every time Sean’s mouth touched hers, it was different, the sensations more acute, the taste of him more addictive. The last kiss they’d shared was on the dance floor and it had left Laurel dizzy and breathless and longing to drag him off into a dark corner.

She pressed her palm to her chest and took a deep breath. She just had to get past one more hurdle before the night could be called a success. Her uncle Sinclair would put in an appearance at the reception and she’d have the task of introducing him to Sean. Though Uncle Sinclair was over eighty, he was still as shrewd as he’d been when he and Laurel’s father had made their first million together.

She looked out to the dance floor and watched as Sean swept one of her bridesmaids around. He hadn’t been much of a dancer early on in the evening, but he had a natural athleticism that allowed him to pick up the steps with ease. And he didn’t look bad in a tux, either. Any woman would be attracted to a man like…

Laurel frowned. Nan Salinger, her maid of honor and co-worker from West Elementary, looked like she was enjoying Sean just a bit too much. An unbidden surge of jealousy rushed over her and Laurel hitched up her skirt and headed to the dance floor. When she reached them, she tapped Nan on the shoulder. “I need to borrow my husband for a moment,” she said. “It’s time to cut the cake.”

“Right,” Sean said. “No problem.” As if he were following orders, he immediately let go of Nan and walked off the dance floor toward the cake, leaving Nan alone with Laurel.

“I think you’ve found yourself a real prince,” Nan said, staring after him with a dreamy gaze. “Why can’t I find a man like that?”

“Like what?” Laurel asked, curious to hear what her girlfriend thought about her groom.

“Oh, I don’t know. A manly man. You know, the strong, silent, sexy type. Broad shoulders, nice butt. He doesn’t say much, does he? But that just makes him more intriguing. Does he have any single brothers at home? Because if he does, I want to meet them.”

Laurel frowned. Nice butt? She didn’t need to listen to this on her wedding day! “I—I don’t know,” she murmured. “I mean I’ll let you know.” She spun away, anxious to avoid more questions.

In truth, she didn’t know anything at all about Sean’s family…or Sean. She didn’t know what he liked to eat or what he did in his spare time. She didn’t know his favorite color or what kind of car he drove. And as she thought about everything she didn’t know, Laurel realized that she’d never learn more. After tonight, Sean Quinn would walk out of her life and she’d never see him again.

“Miss Laurel?”

Laurel spun around to find her uncle’s man, Alistair Winfield, trailing behind her. Her uncle never went anywhere without his man. Alistair served as butler, valet, personal chef and business manager to Sinclair. He also served as messenger boy. He’d been the one to tell Laurel that her reclusive uncle wouldn’t attend the wedding ceremony. He’d been the one to sign the card with the wedding gift. And he’d made sure there was plenty of money in Laurel’s checking account to pay for the wedding expenses.

“Hello, Alistair.”

“You look very lovely tonight, Miss Laurel.” The diminutive, balding man smiled warmly. “I’m truly sorry I wasn’t able to see you walk down the aisle, but Mr. Sinclair had a very important meeting at the Numismatic Society. There was a discussion about a new Indian Princess pattern dime that was recently sold at auction.”

As if her uncle didn’t have enough money, he collected it, as well. He planned to leave all his money to the Numismatic Society of Greater New England. Laurel knew she could find better things to do with Sinclair’s fortune than give it to a bunch of old guys who collected money, but that was his choice. She wanted to make her own choices about her inheritance, too. “Well, I’m glad he was able to make it to the reception,” she said.

“He’d like to meet your new husband now.”

“Where is Uncle Sinclair?” Laurel asked. “I didn’t see him come in.”

“He’s waiting outside in the hall,” Alistair said. “You know how he feels about crowds.” He smiled weakly. “And women in strange hats. Plus if there are any flowers in the room, he’ll demand that they be removed. You know about his fear of roses.”

“I made sure to ask the florist to avoid roses,” she said. “And we were just about to cut the cake, so as soon as we finish with that, I’ll bring him a piece and introduce him to Edward.”

“It’s not chocolate cake, is it? Because you know how your uncle feels about chocolate.”

Laurel winced. “I forgot about the chocolate. Sorry.”

“Not to worry,” Alistair said. “We’ll be waiting. But only for seventeen minutes. Your uncle never waits more than seventeen minutes.”

“I’ll be there in five,” Laurel said. She grabbed her skirt and hurried over to where Sean was waiting.

He stood with the knife clutched in his hand. “I have no idea how to cut this thing,” he said, staring up at the four-tiered cake. “Should I start at the bottom or the top?” He glanced around the room. “Looks like we’ll need about a hundred pieces.”

“We only have to cut a piece for each other,” Laurel explained with a smile. “The photographer takes a few photos and then the caterer cuts the rest of the cake. I thought you said you’ve been to a wedding.”

“I spent most of my time at the bar,” he murmured. “They don’t keep the cake at the bar.”

Laurel grabbed the knife. “Put your hand over mine and smile,” she said. The photographer snapped three photos before Laurel sliced into the cake. She took a small piece and held it up to him. “Here, eat this. And smile.” He did as he was told. “And now, you feed me a little piece.”

Sean frowned as he picked up a piece of cake and held it out to her. Laurel leaned closer and opened her mouth. But the moment her lips touched the cake, Sean let it go and most of the piece fell down the front of her dress. The small crowd that had gathered around the table laughed and clapped, urging Sean to retrieve the cake. He leaned closer and peered down her bodice.

“Don’t you dare,” Laurel muttered, her lips just inches from his ear.

Sean quickly stepped back and Laurel turned away from the guests to get the cake herself. When she’d restored her composure, she pasted a smile on her face and slipped her arm through Sean’s. “Now, my uncle Sinclair is waiting to meet you. He’s eighty years old, he’s a little eccentric and he’s going to ask you a lot of really weird questions. He’ll probably want to see your fingernails. He has this thing about clean fingernails. Try to humor him as best you can, and if you don’t know what to say, just squeeze my hand and I’ll answer. Remember, your name is Edward Garland Wilson, you’re from West Palm Beach, Florida, and your family is in international banking. Beyond that, he doesn’t know anything about you.”

“Why hasn’t your uncle met Edward by now?” he asked as they strolled across the dance floor.

“Sinclair is a bit of a recluse. He lives in the Rand family summer home on Deer Island in Maine. He likes collecting coins and stamps and watching birds. He’ll only eat green vegetables and he has seven pairs of shoes in exactly the same style and color. Oh, and he believes that aliens are living among us. But, please, don’t get him started on that.”

“He sounds a little crazy,” Sean said.

“He’s a multimillionaire,” Laurel said, licking a bit of frosting off her finger, “so he’s not crazy, he’s eccentric.” When they reached the door to the foyer, she took a deep breath. “Let’s get this over with. After Uncle Sinclair, we can leave.”

“And I was just starting to have fun,” he said.

“Are you sure you can handle this with my uncle? If you don’t think you can, then we can put it off.”

“I’m fine,” Sean replied. He slipped his hand around her waist and they stepped outside. Laurel longed for him to pull her into his arms and kiss her again, the way he had on the dance floor. But instead she forced herself to think about the task at hand, the final hurdle in her plan.

They found Sinclair Rand sitting silently in a small alcove just down the hall from the reception room, ensconced in a large wing chair like a member of the royal family. As they approached, he whispered something to Alistair and Alistair nodded. Laurel grabbed Sean’s hand as it rested on her waist and gave it an encouraging squeeze. She could do this. She could turn this whole mess around and make something good of it.