'The sun is up. It's nearly nine. We have the whole day in front of us. Come on, we can get coffee on our way,' she insisted. 'Take a quick shower and then we can go.'
Aw, hell. His reaction was only natural, a physiological response that most men experienced in the morning. He rolled off the bed and stood beside it. Her gaze skimmed along his chest, then stopped in the vicinity of his lap, at the obvious bulge in his boxers. Laurel cleared her throat and looked away.
'Maybe I'll go get you some coffee,' she said. She quickly tugged on her skirt, then hurried to the door.
The door closed and Sean started toward the bathroom, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of the boxers and shoving them over his hips. But the door opened again and Sean froze. He glanced over his shoulder as she poked her head back inside.
'Oh, sorry,' she murmured. She closed the door until it was open just a crack. 'Sugar?' she asked, her voice a bit breathless.
'No.'
Laurel closed the door behind her and Sean waited. Right on schedule, she opened the door again. If he didn't know Laurel, he might think she was deliberately trying to get a good look at his ass.
'Cream?' she asked.
'A little milk,' he said.
When she'd closed the door again, Sean chuckled softly. Considering the effect his naked body had on her, maybe it would be best to walk around this way all the time. She'd certainly keep her distance.
He grabbed his toothbrush from his duffel, then walked to the bathroom. But he stopped a few steps inside and sighed. The room was almost as large as his bedroom at home. A huge tub stood against one wall, and nearby, a spacious shower. The vanity, littered with cosmetics and lotions and pretty bottles of perfume, had two sinks with shiny gold fixtures. Hell, even the toilet looked high-class.
Sean reached inside the shower and turned on the water. Immediately the scent of Laurel's shampoo filled the room. He quickly brushed his teeth, then stepped into the marble-lined stall. A low moan slipped from his throat as he stood beneath the rush of water.
The shower was like everything else in the mansion, functional but in a very luxurious way. He tipped his head back and ran his fingers though his hair, then grabbed a bar of soap in lieu of shampoo. He didn't want to spend the day smelling like Laurel. He had enough trouble keeping his mind-and his hands-off of her.
The shower was too relaxing to leave and he stayed beneath the water until his fingers began to wrinkle. The bathroom was filled with steam as he stepped out and wrapped a plush towel around his waist. When he walked out of the bathroom, he found Laurel waiting, sitting on the bed with a tray filled with food.
'Alistair made us breakfast in bed,' she said. 'He thinks we're still on our honeymoon'
The impulse to tell her that Alistair knew the truth about their 'marriage' was immediate, but he decided against revealing the secret for now. He'd save that news for another time. He wanted the charade to continue a little longer-just to see where it would lead.
Sean readjusted the towel, wondering what would happen if he just let it drop to the floor. Would she run? Or would she pull him onto the bed and explore his body with her hands. He pushed the thoughts aside, unwilling to let himself become aroused again.
He pulled a silver cover off a plate. 'French toast.'
Laurel pointed to another covered plate as she munched on a croissant. 'An egg-white omelette with tomatoes and green peppers. My favorite.' She pulled up another cover. 'And I don't know who would eat all this for breakfast. Fried eggs, fried mushrooms, fried tomato, bacon, sausage, some kind of potato pancake and canned beans.' She winced. 'This is a heart attack waiting to happen. I'm surprised Alistair didn't fry the napkin and silverware while he was at it.'
Sean grinned. Leave it to Alistair. The man certainly knew how to please. 'That's an Irish breakfast,' he said. 'Everything but the black-and-white pudding.'
'Irish people eat pudding for breakfast?'
'Black-and-white pudding is two kinds of sausage made of-' He paused. 'Never mind.'
She frowned as she stared down at the plate. 'Why would Alistair make you-'
'He probably thought I'd enjoy a hearty breakfast. Maybe this is what he eats for breakfast.'
She seemed satisfied with the answer and poured herself a cup of coffee.
'There is one thing I'd like,' he said.
'What is it? I'll call Alistair. He'll make you whatever you want.'
Sean reached out and hooked his finger beneath her chin, then turned her face to his. 'This is what I want,' he said, leaning forward. He covered her mouth with his, tasting the strawberry jam that she'd smeared on the croissant. He didn't pull back right away, instead lingering, testing and tasting until he was satisfied that he'd sated that particular hunger.
He'd been fighting his impulses for far too long. And now that he'd given in and admitted this powerful attraction he had to Laurel, Sean realized that he'd been silly to deny himself. Just because they kissed and touched, didn't mean that the curse was working. He was just following his natural instincts. Laurel was a beautiful woman, he was a healthy man. And when it came time to walk away, he'd do it.
Turning back to his breakfast, Sean grabbed a fork and speared a crispy brown sausage. 'A great way to start the day,' he murmured.
'The food?' she asked, her expression still a bit startled.
'No, the kiss.' He sent her a grin. 'The food is good, too.'
As they enjoyed their breakfast, Sean decided that he could get used to a life of luxury. He was making a decent wage and spending time with a beautiful woman. And Alistair was a helluva good cook. Life couldn't get much better.
But as he watched Laurel wrap her kiss-swollen lips around a forkful of omelette, he realized that life
Chapter 5
Dust motes swirled in the air as Sean and Laurel walked through the old storefront. Tall windows, covered with a wire mesh outside, were cracked and broken and grimy with dirt-a sign that the building had been vacant for some time. And with outside temperatures nearing eighty, the air inside was stale and musty, heavy with the heat of the early September afternoon.
'What do you think?' Laurel asked.
Sean glanced around. She'd been so excited to show him this place, he was afraid to admit that he'd expected something a little nicer. 'I think you have a lot of work to do.'
'I know,' she said, excitement filling her voice. 'But I think it would make a great children's center. And I can probably get some matching grants from local foundations and maybe even from the government to do the renovations. The first thing I'm going to do is hire someone who is really good at fund-raising. Five million won't last long if we don't bring money in.'
'What if your uncle doesn't give you the five million?'
'I'm thinking positively. He has to give me the money,' she said, a desperate edge invading her cheerful voice. 'I can't lose this place. It's too perfect.'
Sean didn't see it as perfect. In truth, it was about as far from perfect as a building could get. But he couldn't deny Laurel's enthusiasm. 'How can you be so sure this is what you want to do?'
Laurel slowly turned, taking in the entire room. 'I just am. It's as if my past is connected now with my present. There were times when I felt like I was… drifting. When my father died, my last tether to who I was, was cut. This place makes me feel like I have my feet back on the ground.'
'It must be nice to be sure,' Sean said.
'Aren't you?'
In truth Sean had never been sure of anything in his life. He'd always waited for the next bad thing to happen, for the next disaster to come knocking at the door. There was only one person he could truly trust and depend on in the world-himself. 'Yeah,' he lied.
