“You ain’t seen nothing yet.” He clamped his jaw. “Marry me, or I’ll fight dirty.”
She folded her arms across her chest, not about to give an inch. “Go ahead. Give it your best shot.”
“I’ll call Bradley.”
Sydney pulled back in horror.
“I’m sure he’ll have some ideas about showing the Thunderbolt.”
She shook her head. “Cole. No. You don’t know what he’ll-”
“I’ll do it. Either you marry me, or I make a deal with Bradley.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“I don’t bluff.”
“That man’s evil.”
“Then marry me.”
“No.”
He threw up his hands. “I’m not asking you to walk the plank. You only have to put up with me for an hour or two. Give me one little kiss, pretend you like me at the reception, then we each go our own way. You’ll find reasons to be in New York. I’ll find reasons to be on the ranch. And, after a decent interval, we tell everyone it didn’t work out.”
“Could a proposal get any less romantic?” she asked.
He glared at her.
“I mean, really, Cole. Is there anything you could add that would make a girl feel less desirable?”
He stared hard into her eyes. “My desire for you was never in question.”
Familiar stirrings rose up in Sydney’s chest. For a split second she considered saying yes and hauling him off on a real honeymoon. But she couldn’t do that. It would only put off the heartbreak, maybe make the pain even worse.
“You’re thinking about it,” he said. “I can tell you’re thinking about it.”
She shook her head.
“Say yes, Sydney. You can do it.”
Could she?
If she didn’t get past her feelings for Cole, she’d go insane. She needed to focus on something else. And her career was the only reasonable distraction. And at least she’d have the satisfaction of thwarting Bradley.
She gazed into Cole’s eyes, studied those flecks of storm-tossed gray for the last time.
“Fine,” she said, suddenly tired of fighting, tired of feeling, tired of wishing for something he’d never be able to give her. “I’ll marry you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She tossed her hair behind her shoulders. “After all, it’s the professional coup of a lifetime.”
Twelve
Two weeks later Sydney was seriously rethinking her decision to marry Cole. But the Laurent was already poised for the Viking antique show, Grandma had already pinned the Thunderbolt to the bodice of Sydney’s wedding gown and, most importantly, Sydney had already said “I do.”
In the brand-new hay barn down the driveway from Cole’s cabin, all eyes were on the bride and groom. The small band launched into the bridal waltz, and Cole pulled Sydney into his arms.
The floor was rough, and the walls were bare wood. But the acoustics were impressive, and they danced together like they made love together, every movement in sync, every breath in harmony. She could swear their heartbeats had synchronized.
“Relax,” he whispered into her ear, gathering her close.
“I’m trying.”
“Think about the Thunderbolt,” he advised. “You’re going to be a very famous woman.”
“And so, I’m a success,” she said on a forced laugh, fighting to keep it from turning into a tear.
His hand stroked up and down her back, just barely touching her exposed skin where the dress veed between her shoulder blades. Ironic that the very man who was tearing her heart out was also comforting her.
She subconsciously moved closer to the heat of his body, his scent taking her back days and weeks to the tiny bedroom on the shores of Blue Creek. She could almost hear the clock ticking as he messed with time.
He settled his arm more securely across the small of her back while the singer crooned his way through a wholly inappropriate Shania Twain tune.
“Are you remembering?” Cole whispered.
“No,” she lied.
He bent closer to her ear, his breath puffing in warm bursts. “I sure am.”
“Don’t.” Memories could kill her. They were killing her.
“No matter what happened,” he rasped, swaying to the strains of promises and love for the rest of their lives. “No matter what I said and did that can never be fixed. I want you to know that you rocked my world.”
“Cole,” she moaned.
“For as long as I live, I’ll see you in that billowing bed with strawberry-stained lips and tousled hair, sharing my secrets, looking out for my family.”
“Please stop.”
“I’m so sorry, Sydney.”
She shook her head. “It’s not you.”
He gathered her closer still. “Well, it’s sure as hell not you.”
“Maybe it’s us.”
“Maybe it was circumstances.”
She dared to look up at him. “Does it really matter anymore?”
It was over between them. Not that they’d ever had a chance. He was her ticket to the Thunderbolt, nothing more. That he was the lover of a lifetime had messed things up, and that she had to lie to him had messed things up. But even without the lies, without the lovemaking, the best she could have hoped for is exactly where they were now-going into a sham marriage to circumvent a will.
He sighed against the top her head. “I hate leaving things unsettled between us.”
“We’re settled.” She was getting better and better at lying.
“No, we’re not.”
The band moved into the third chorus, and the lyrics all but pierced Sydney’s heart.
“What do you need to settle it, Cole? To know that I’m sorry I lied to you?”
“No.” He pulled back, cupping her face in his palms. “That’s not what I meant.”
To her surprise, he captured her lips in a long, soulful kiss.
Ridiculous hope fluttered to life as the song built to a crescendo of everlasting love.
She pulled back, intent on saving her sanity. “There are two hundred people watching us.”
“Lucky them.”
“Cole.”
“Just tell me you forgive me.”
“For what?”
He chuckled softly as the band held the final note. “Right.”
“Seriously, Cole. What?”
He stared into her eyes.
The note faded to silence and the audience burst into applause.
Kyle appeared next to Cole’s shoulder. “I believe it’s the best man’s turn.”
Cole plucked an ice-cold beer from the bar in the corner of his new barn.
Sydney needed to forgive him for insulting her. She needed to forgive him for threatening to have her arrested. And she also needed to forgive him for not recognizing she was the most wonderful woman on the planet.
