him his freedom. But he was happy to see that he'd battled the curse and come up the winner. There was no way this scheming woman would ever capture his heart.
'Not until we come to terms,' he said. 'How long will my services be required?'
'At least a month,' she said.
'My day rate is five hundred dollars,' he said, padding the figure a bit. 'Thirty days at five hundred is fifteen thousand. Of course, expenses are extra.'
'Your day rate? Are you a plumber?'
'I'm a private investigator,' Sean said. 'Remember?'
'Right! That's perfect then. Five hundred a day, plus expenses, limited to an additional five thousand.' She held out her hand and he shook it.
Her fingers were warm and delicate in his hand and, for a moment, Sean didn't want to let go. Cursing inwardly, he pulled his hand away. 'It's a deal.'
'Good, then let's go. We'll have to get your things. I told Alistair we'd be back in an hour. That gives us just enough time to get our story straight.'
Sean nodded, then opened the bathroom door, stepping aside to let her pass. As they walked through the pub, he let his hand rest on the small of her back. It was something a husband would do. He'd seen his brothers do the same for the women they loved. Yet when he touched Laurel, it was easy to forget that everything between them was a charade.
'I'm leaving, Da,' Sean shouted. 'I won't be back for a few weeks. Give Rudy a call. He'll fill in for me.'
'Yah can't leave me in the lurch!' Seamus shouted.
'You'll be fine,' he murmured.
Laurel's car was parked in front of the bar. She circled around to the driver's side and Sean followed her, then held out his hand. 'What?' she asked.
'Keys. I'm the husband. The husband always drives.'
'Not in this marriage. My car is very temperamental.'
'Are we going to have our first argument?'
Grudgingly, she slapped the keys into his hand and walked around to the passenger side. Sean slipped behind the wheel, then reached over to unlock her door. But she didn't open it. 'Get in,' he said.
She peered through the window, rapping on it with her knuckles. 'Husbands open car doors for their wives.'
Sean groaned. For a guy who wasn't really married, he was already following orders like a henpecked spouse. He crawled back out of the car, jogged around to Laurel's side and yanked open the door. 'Make sure you complain about my driving,' he suggested. 'And give me all the wrong directions. Isn't that what wives do?'
As he shut her door, Sean suppressed a grin. Maybe this 'marriage' would be just what he needed-to convince himself that marriage would never be an option for the only remaining Quinn bachelor.
They returned to the house an hour later, Alistair welcoming them both at the front door. He reached to take Sean's duffel, but Sean shook his head and insisted on carrying it upstairs. Laurel made a mental note to tell her 'husband' that he'd need to be especially careful around Alistair. The butler was fiercely loyal to Sinclair and any suspicions on his part would be immediately relayed to her uncle.
'I've taken the liberty of preparing a light meal for you,' Alistair said, following them both up the stairs. 'Sandwiches, a roasted vegetable salad and a fresh blueberry crumble. I've put it in your bedroom. Mr. Sinclair would like you to join him for brandy in the library after you've settled in.'
He opened the door to Laurel's bedroom and walked inside, switching on a lamp next to the small sofa. 'Would you like me to unpack for you?' Alistair asked Sean.
'No, I can take care of that.' Sean reached for his wallet, but Laurel grabbed his arm to stop him.
'We'll be fine,' she said. 'Let Uncle know that we'll be down in twenty minutes. Thank you, Alistair.'
When the butler had left the room, she heard Sean release a tightly held breath. 'I was going to tip him,' he said. 'That wasn't right?'
'No, Alistair is an employee of my uncle Sinclair. But he takes care of me-and you now-because he wants to. Not because he has to.'
She crossed the room to the small sofa set in an alcove. Alistair had set out the tray on a tea table beside it. She picked up one of Alistair's famous cucumber-and-cream-cheese sandwiches and took a bite. 'Are you hungry? Alistair is a really good cook.'
'No,' he said. He stood in the center of the room as if he wasn't sure what he should do.
Laurel moved to the dresser, pulled open the top drawer, then scooped out all her underwear. 'You can use this for your clothes. I'll clean out another drawer if you need it. And there's plenty of room in the closet.' She looked down at her underwear, then walked over to the wardrobe, pulled open the door and tossed the lingerie inside. 'The bathroom is through there.' Laurel pointed to the door. 'You'll need to change before we go downstairs.'
Sean looked down at the clothes he was wearing. 'What's wrong with what I have on?'
Laurel let her gaze drift down from his handsome face to his long, lean body. He wore a T-shirt and jeans like no other man could; the T-shirt stretched tight over his muscled chest, the black jeans riding low on his hips. 'Uncle insists that everyone dress for the evening.'
'We're having a drink.'
'It's after six. It's one of his rules. Now, what did you bring along?'
'Jeans, T-shirts.' Sean strode over to the bed and rummaged through his duffel. He pulled out a black sweater and held it up. 'How about this?'
'You don't have a jacket and tie?'
'I don't own a jacket and tie,' Sean said. 'Whenever I need to dress up, I borrow something from my brother Brian.'
'We'll have to shop tomorrow.' She crossed to the closet. 'I think Edward may have left something here.'
'I'm not wearing his clothes.' He grabbed his duffel and crossed the room to the dresser. But before he put his clothes inside, he held out a stray piece of her lingerie. A lacy red bra.
A blush warming her cheeks, Laurel grabbed it from his hand. She took his sweater, as well, and smoothed her hand over the fine silk knit. The designer label was a surprise.
'My sister-in-law gave it to me for Christmas. I've never worn it.'
'This will be fine. We'll buy you some new things when we get a chance.'
He grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and yanked it over his head. It happened so quickly that Laurel didn't have a chance to prepare, or to find something else to occupy her eyes. Her gaze fell to his chest, smooth and finely muscled. He was lean and hard, yet Laurel suspected it didn't come from working out at a health club. He just didn't seem the type.
She swallowed hard, then handed him the sweater. 'We… we need to get our story straight about the honeymoon. I think you should let me do most of the talking. Add a few details here and there, but don't say too much.'
'I never do,' Sean replied.
'And we need to discuss public displays of affection. We have to appear… comfortable with each other. Uncle Sinclair needs to see that we're in love, but we shouldn't hang all over each other. Uncle has very old-fashioned ideas about decorum and propriety.'
'Tell me what to do,' Sean said.
'Well, we can hold hands,' she suggested.
He reached out and took her hand, then wove his fingers through hers. His touch sent a current through her body, so strong that she had to fight the impulse to pull away.
'How's that?' he asked.
'Good. And you can touch me in other ways. Put your arm around me.'
He slipped his other arm around her waist. 'Like this?' he asked as he pulled her close, her hand pinned behind her back.
