Again and again, he'd been reminded of the two very different worlds they'd come from. The ten-thousand- dollar check in his wallet represented a fortune to him, a chance to build his business. Yet, to Laurel, it was spare change, payment for a day's work, and there was more where that came from. He couldn't really blame her. Given a chance at five million, Sean probably would have risked more than just money.
As she wandered around the room, his gaze followed her, taking in her slender body and beautiful features. He'd known a lot of women who were pretty, but Laurel's beauty eclipsed them all. She wasn't like the women he usually met. She was… classy. Smart. Sophisticated. And way out of his league.
'I think tonight went well,' she murmured, running a finger over a little china rabbit that sat on her bedside table.
'Do you think he suspects?' Sean asked, setting the book he carried on the table near the sofa.
She quickly turned, concern etching her features. 'Do you?'
Sean shrugged. Their audience with Uncle Sinclair had been strange at best. The old man didn't appear to be interested in the state of his niece's marriage. He'd barely noticed that Laurel was in the room, so occupied was he with his coins. But Sean knew better. 'Your uncle wants you to believe he's not the full shilling.'
'Full shilling?' Laurel asked. 'Is that a coin joke?'
'It's my da's expression. Sinclair doesn't have all his oars in the water. He's a few sandwiches short of a picnic. He's-'
'I get it,' Laurel said. 'Maybe he is a little… crazy.'
'But he's not crazy. He just wants you to believe he is. I think he's a pretty shrewd old guy.'
Laurel fussed with the bedcovers, pulling them back and then smoothing them out until they were perfectly turned down. 'I've never been able to figure him out. My mother died when I was ten and my father when I was nineteen, and Uncle Sinclair's been in charge of everything since then. He's the only family I have.' Her shoulders rose and dropped. 'I'm not even sure how he feels about me.'
'Does it make a difference?' Sean asked.
She sat on the edge of the bed and rested her hands in her lap, studying her fingernails. Sean fought the urge to cross the room to sit beside her, to take her hands in his. All evening, he'd played the proper husband, touching her every now and then, smiling when she spoke, holding her hand as they talked with her uncle. It had seemed so natural, but now that they were alone, he couldn't bring himself to do the same. Where did the act end and the real desire begin?
'It would be nice to know there's someone in the world who really cares about me,' she continued. 'You have your family. They must love you very much. That has to make you feel good.'
Sean's thoughts turned to his mother. Though he knew he could always count on his father and five brothers, he still hadn't resolved his issues with Fiona Quinn. 'I guess so,' he murmured.
It would be so easy to trust Laurel, to open up to her and to talk about problems he'd always kept to himself. But Sean had to remember Laurel was a woman and, like Fiona, she couldn't be fully trusted.
'Tell me about your family,' Laurel asked.
Sean pushed away from the door and crossed the room. He grabbed up his duffel bag and finished unpacking, laying T-shirts and boxer shorts on a nearby chair. 'We don't need to talk,' he said.
A long silence fell over the room, Laurel's expression grim. His words caused him a pang of regret and Sean dropped what he was doing and sat next to her. Hesitantly, he reached out and took her fingers, twisting them through his as he spoke. 'I'm sorry. I'm just not much for that kind of conversation. Sports, the weather, current events. I can handle that.'
'No, you're right. There's no reason for us to discuss personal matters. I have to remember, you're just doing a job.'
'That's what you wanted, isn't it?'
Laurel nodded, then snatched her fingers from his and rose. 'I'm going to take a shower-or maybe you'd like to use the bathroom first?'
'No, go ahead,' Sean said. He glanced around the room. 'What are the sleeping arrangements here?'
Laurel's gaze darted to the four-poster. For a moment he thought she might invite him to share the bed with her. Though the prospect was intriguing, he knew better than to tempt fate. He quickly pointed to a small reading alcove near the other side of the room. 'I can take the sofa over there.'
'No, you can have the bed,' she said, grabbing a folded throw from a nearby chair. 'That sofa is too small for-'
He took the throw from her hands, then picked up a pillow, as well. 'I sleep on my sofa at home all the time. It won't be a problem. If it's uncomfortable, I can always stretch out on the floor.'
She grabbed the robe lying across the end of the bed and clutched it to her chest. 'All right then, I'm just going to take my shower.'
The door to the bathroom closed and Sean let out a tightly held breath. He'd thought this job would be easy, but the tension that had sprung up between them made every minute alone together sheer torture. He almost wanted to return to the library and an audience with Uncle Sinclair.
Sean moved to the door of the bathroom and listened to the sound of running water. A vision of Laurel flashed in his head and he let it linger, imagining her as she undressed and stepped into the shower… as she let the water sluice over her naked body… smoothed her soap-slicked hands over her-
Sean cursed then strode away from the door. This was crazy! Nothing, not even twenty thousand dollars, was worth this kind of punishment. How could she expect him to live with her as her husband and not think about the pleasures that a husband usually shared with his wife?
He ran his fingers through his hair, then turned for the door. He wasn't about to hang around until she came out of the bathroom, her skin still damp from her shower, her robe clinging to her body. He'd find something else to occupy his time until she crawled into bed and turned off the lights.
The hallway was silent as he walked down the sweeping staircase. His footsteps made little noise against the thick Oriental runner. When he reached the door to the kitchen, he shoved it open, then stopped, surprised to see Alistair still up.
The diminutive man looked over his shoulder and smiled at Sean as he walked toward the sink. 'I thought you'd gone to bed,' he said.
'Strange house,' Sean said. 'I'm not going to sleep. It will take me a few nights to settle in.'
'Perhaps I can prepare something for you. A snack?'
'Do you have any beer?'
Alistair nodded and retrieved two bottles from the huge commercial refrigerator. He popped the caps off with an opener. 'Would you like a glass?'
Sean grabbed one of the bottles and took a long swallow, then shook his head. 'Nope. I'm fine.' He held up the bottle. 'Guinness.'
Alistair carefully poured his beer into a half-pint glass. 'I enjoy a bit of the black stuff every now and then.'
'My da has an Irish pub in Southie and-' Sean swallowed the rest of his sentence, realizing too late that he'd blown his cover. 'I mean, I've been to a pub in-'
'No need,' Alistair said. 'I'm aware of your charade.'
Sean cursed inwardly, but tried to maintain a calm facade. 'Charade? I don't know what you mean.'
'You might tell me your name,' Alistair said.
'It's Edward. Edward Garland Wilson.' The butler raised an eyebrow and Sean knew he was made. 'It is.' The butler shook his head. 'All right. It's Sean Quinn. How did you know?'
'You were nothing like Laurel described. I knew how much pressure her uncle put on her to marry and how desperate she was to get her trust fund. What happened to Edward?'
'He didn't make it to the wedding,' he said.
'I wasn't sure that he existed at all. And how did you come to be mixed up in this little drama of Miss Laurel's?'
'She needed a husband. She made me an offer I couldn't refuse.'
Alistair nodded. 'Ah.
