'I'm going to name this place the Louise Carpenter Rand Center for the Arts,' she said. 'After my mother.'
'What if your uncle asks for proof before he hands over the money? What if he wants to see a marriage certificate?'
'I'll deal with that then,' she said. 'My father never realized what it would be like for me, living under Sinclair's thumb. If he'd known, he wouldn't have put my uncle in charge of my trust. And if he were alive, I know he'd support this idea. My mother would have loved it, too. I'm thinking positively.' She turned to face the room. 'Now, this is going to be the dance studio. We'll put mirrors on that wall and put in a new floor.' She did a fancy little ballet step around him. 'And over here, I'd like to have an art studio. And behind that wall would be storage for materials and supplies. And downstairs in the front part of the building, I want a small gallery and performance space, so people in the neighborhood can visit and see what we're doing here.'
She danced by and Sean grabbed her around the waist and stopped her. 'You could talk to Sinclair about your idea, lay out your plan. He might decide to support it.'
'You don't know him,' she said, shaking her head. 'He formed his ideas about the opposite sex back in the Neanderthal ages. He thinks the only future for me is marriage and children and a nice little three-bedroom cave. His idea of the perfect husband has nothing at all to do with love. If the guy can keep track of my money, then he's a perfect candidate.'
He stared down into her gaze and Laurel grew still. 'Did you love Eddie?' Sean asked. He didn't want to know the answer, but he had to.
'Edward,' she corrected. Laurel considered his question for a moment. 'No. But he was the only one asking me to marry him. And I thought he was the kind of man I could live with. That was enough for me.'
'You sell yourself short,' Sean said. He released her and walked across the room to examine a broken door. Why couldn't she see how wonderful she was? She was beautiful and sexy and smart, and the kind of woman any man would want. Why would she settle for a guy like Eddie the Cruiser?
Laurel followed him. 'And how would you know? Do you think I should give up my dreams while I wait for a man to ride to my rescue? I want to do something with my life. I want to make a difference, and I can't do that if Sinclair won't give me my money.'
'Find it somewhere else,' he said, his voice tight.
'Who is going to give me five million dollars?'
'Like you said. Foundations. The government. Have you tried?'
Anger suffused her expression. 'You don't think I can do this, do you? You're just like Uncle Sinclair!'
'Laurel, that's not true. I'm just-'
A sudden movement above their head startled Laurel and she screamed as a pigeon swooped in between them. A moment later she was in his arms, her breath coming in tiny gasps.
'It's just a pigeon,' he murmured, smoothing his hand over her hair and watching the bird perch on a pipe near the ceiling. He distractedly tucked a strand behind her ear then ran his palm along her jaw.
Sean waited for her to pull away, to break the intimate contact. But her gaze was fixed to his mouth. His thumb found her lower lip and he dragged it across, watching as she closed her eyes and turned into his touch.
She looked like an angel, the sun streaming through a window behind her and bathing her pale hair in an unearthly light He bent closer and touched his mouth to hers and she instantly responded, opening to his kiss. It was like touching heaven and tasting immortality. Every ounce of his being was focused on the feel of her lips beneath his.
A kiss had always been something very simple to him, an enjoyable pastime and a necessary step in seduction. But with Laurel the experience was like nothing he'd ever felt before. They seemed to communicate with the touch of their tongues and the soft shift of their lips.
It was everything he needed, but it wasn't enough. Sean wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up, never breaking contact with her mouth. He wasn't sure where he was going, but when he found a rough brick wall, he gently trapped her there, pulling her legs up around his waist.
The kiss turned more desperate and Laurel pushed her palms beneath his T-shirt, shoving it up around his chest. The feel of her hands on his skin was electric, sending a current racing through his body and setting his nerves on fire. He couldn't stop himself, even if he wanted to. He couldn't.
With one arm wrapped firmly around her waist, Sean worked at the buttons of her blouse, shoving the fabric aside until he could press his mouth to her shoulder. Her skirt was gathered around her hips and his hands skimmed over her legs, still wrapped around his waist.
Of all the places for desire to overwhelm them, this had to be the worst choice. The temperature in the building felt close to one hundred degrees and there was nowhere comfortable to continue this seduction. If he let it go further, there would be no turning back-because he wanted to make love to Laurel, to experience her body in the same way he enjoyed her mouth.
He slid his hand from her shoulder down to her breast, cupping the soft flesh in his palm. He'd always been so uneasy with, women, not when it came to seduction, but with what came after-the emotion and the intimacy. Sex had been about satisfying a need. With Laurel, Sean knew it would be more.
Just the thought of stripping off their clothes and letting their desires overwhelm them caused his heart to hammer and his blood to warm. His arousal was powerful, and anticipation raced though him each time he. shifted her in his embrace.
The sound of wings flapping above their heads caused Laurel to suck in a sharp breath and Sean used the chance to gather his control. He wanted her, more than he'd ever wanted a woman before. Yet not here, and not now. But soon. 'We should go,' he murmured.
She froze, her breath stilling. Sean glanced up to see confusion fill her eyes. To reassure her, he kissed her again, gently yet thoroughly, making it clear that there would be more to come another time. Then he let her body slide down along his, stifling a groan as she rubbed against his arousal.
'I guess we really don't have to practice that part of marriage,' she said.
Sean worked at the buttons of her blouse. 'Practice makes perfect.'
She sighed and reached up to touch his cheek. 'Yes, it does.'
As they restored order to their clothes, the intimacy didn't stop. Laurel smoothed her hands over his chest, then brushed his hair out of his eyes. And Sean took a last chance to touch her, raking his fingers through her hair and pulling it back from her face.
It was as if they both knew the inevitable was coming. They would make love and it would be perfect between them. But when and where would be decided later.
The night was as warm and humid as the day had been, summer holding tight to the first weeks of September. Laurel slowly strolled along the stone terrace that overlooked the swimming pool. It was the one luxury she gave into, insisting that if she had to live in the mansion, Sinclair would have to pay for a pool man.
Sinclair preferred the family vacation home in Maine, a rough lodge on Deer Island. There, he could focus all his attention on his coins, his stamps and his other obsessions. He had so many things to occupy his time, why did he continue to interfere in her life? Even the house had become a source of contention between them. The mansion was half hers-the half that her father had left her. But Sinclair owned the other half and neither one of them could sell unless the other agreed.
Laurel sat on the low wall that surrounded the terrace. There were times when the mansion seemed like such a burden, another chain tying her to her uncle. But she felt differently now-now that Sean was living here with her. She turned and glanced back at the tall windows of the dining room, illuminated in the dusk by the crystal chandelier that her father had bought in Paris.
Her thoughts focused on the man she'd brought home as her 'husband,' the man who was sitting with her uncle in the library, pouring over the old man's stamp collection. A tiny shiver skittered down her spine. After their encounter earlier that morning, they'd both tried to act as if nothing had happened. But with each kiss and each caress they shared, she and Sean were moving closer and closer to total surrender.
She turned back to stare out at the lawn, the swallows diving across the grassy width from their nests in the old carriage house. The air was growing thick with the sounds of evening, crickets and night birds, while bees still
