Sean

'Well, why don't I send over one of my architects? We'll get him started with some rough sketches.'

'How much is this going to cost?' Sean asked.

'Don't worry about that. This is family. Give me the address and I'll send someone over. Are you there now?'

'Yeah.' Sean gave Rafe the address.

'I'll have someone there in thirty minutes. Once your friend has a plan, I'll have someone on my staff work up some estimates. I've got a lot of contractors who owe me favors. I could use my-'

'No,' Sean said. 'You've done enough. Thanks. I appreciate it.'

'No problem,' he said.

Sean turned off the phone and handed it back to Laurel. 'We're all set,' he said. 'Rafe is sending an architect over to talk to you about your plans.'

'I can't afford to pay an-'

'Don't worry. He's doing a favor. I'm family.'

Laurel shook her head. 'Family,' she repeated. 'It's like the Quinns are a corporation. Is there anything you can't get done?'

'Probably not. Amy can fund the place, Rafe can fix it up. Brian can probably write a story for the Globe and Liam can take promotional photos. Olivia could track down some used furniture and Lily could get you some good PR. And Eleanor is a banker, so she could keep track of the money.'

'And what will you do for me?'

Sean grinned and dropped a kiss on her lips. 'I provide relaxation and moral support.'

Laurel hugged him, then pulled away and wandered over to an old sink that hung from the wall. 'What are you going to use your money for?'

'What money?' Sean asked.

She slowly turned. 'The money I'm paying you. What are you going to do with it?'

Sean had forgotten all about the money. That's what had drawn him to her in the first place, but now it seemed insignificant. 'I was thinking about getting an office. I've been putting some cash away lately. It's hard to get corporate clients when I'm working out of my apartment. I need a place to do business.'

'Is private investigations pretty lucrative?'

'For some guys.' Not for Bert Hinshaw, Sean mused. The old P.I. had never even made enough to buy himself a decent suit. And now that he was getting on in years, he had nothing to show for his life, except a beat-up Cadillac convertible and a drinking habit that drained his wallet as quickly as he could fill it. Sean didn't want to end up like Bert. He wanted a life he could be proud of, a life that meant something.

'What about you?' Laurel asked.

Her reasons for asking were clear. A rich girl like Laurel Rand couldn't marry an ordinary guy like Sean Quinn. Hell, he usually had to scrape together spare change to pay the rent. He drove a beat-up car and didn't even own a decent suit. And she had five million burning a hole in her pocket. 'I'm never going to be a millionaire like you,' he said.

'Is that important to you?'

'No. Is it important to you?'

Laurel shook her head. 'Don't get me wrong. It's nice to have money. But I'd give every last dollar back to have a family. To have a mother and father. And sisters and brothers. People who care about me. It sounds trite, but money can't buy everything. It can't buy love.'

'It bought you a husband,' Sean said.

She smiled weakly. 'But only for a month. After the month is up, you're going to go home. Maybe even sooner if Amy approves my plan.' She wandered across the room and began to measure the windows on the far wall.

Suddenly, Sean regretted his call to Rafe. If Amy funded Laurel's project, then Laurel would have no use for his services. She'd write him a check and send him packing. A knot tightened in his gut when he thought about leaving Laurel. He wasn't ready to let her go, wasn't ready to be dismissed from her life. Yet he wasn't ready to ask her to marry him, either.

There was an easy way to know how she really felt, he mused. He could simply throw all his cards on the table and admit he was madly in love with her. Sean knew he'd be able to see her response in her eyes. Over the past week he'd learned to read her feelings pretty well.

If he knew how she felt, if he could somehow be assured that her feelings would last, then maybe he could take the chance. But he had to be careful not to expect too much. Even if Laurel did love him, what guarantees did he have that she'd feel the same way in a month or a year or ten years? Fiona Quinn had loved her husband and her family and she'd walked away when times got tough. Laurel could do the same.

Sean combed his fingers through his hair. Why had things been so easy for his brothers and so complicated for himself? They'd all fallen in love and known exactly what they wanted in a matter of weeks.

Maybe this wasn't the Quinn family curse at all. And maybe Laurel wasn't the woman he was destined to love for the rest of his life. Or maybe he just needed a little more time.

Chapter 8

Laurel smoothed the skirt of her loose cotton dress and checked the row of tiny buttons that decorated the front. 'How do I look?' she asked.

'You look absolutely beautiful.' Sean grimaced as he slipped the knot of his tie up to his collar. 'Are you sure I have to wear a tie?'

She stepped up to him and readjusted the knot. 'It's only for a little while. We'll have drinks and then dinner with Sinclair and then you can take off the tie. You know, you're going to have to start wearing a tie for business. It makes you look more respectable and a P.I. should look trustworthy.'

'I can get one of those clip-on ties,' Sean muttered, gently pushing her hands away. He turned to the mirror and tugged at the knot.

Laurel ran her hands over his shoulders. 'I think Sinclair wants to talk to us about my trust fund. Alistair hinted that they'd discussed it while they were in New York.' Her gaze met Sean's in the reflection of the mirror and his fingers stilled.

'So then this will be over?' he asked.

She nodded. 'I'll write you a big fat check and you can go home-as soon as Sinclair leaves and the check clears the bank.'

'Is that what you want?'

Laurel smiled, trying to appear nonchalant. No, it wasn't what she wanted, but Sean wasn't offering anything more. She'd given him every opportunity to reveal the depth of his feelings. Yet when it came to serious discussion about their future, he'd turned into a brick wall. In the beginning, she'd found his silence intriguing, but now it was a source of frustration. 'That was the deal.'

'Right,' Sean said.

Taking a deep breath, Laurel walked to the door. 'Let's go.'

It had been almost impossible to keep her growing feelings for Sean in check. She'd caught herself time and time again with the words on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to tell him she loved him, wanted to shout it until he believed it. But for the first time in her life, she'd restrained her impulsiveness, keeping her mouth shut and her feelings to herself. Maybe a little bit of Sean's nature had rubbed off on her.

They walked down the stairs together, her hand tucked in his. When they stepped inside the library, Sean gave her fingers an encouraging squeeze. Alistair handed Sean a Guinness and set a glass of white wine for Laurel on the table beside the sofa.

As usual, Sinclair didn't notice their arrival. This time his nose was buried in the latest copy of Stamp Aficionado magazine. But Laurel wasn't about to play his game. She'd go on the offensive, the way Sean had the first time he and Sinclair had met. 'How was the auction, Uncle? Did you get the coin you wanted?'

Sinclair peered over the top of his magazine. 'You look different,' he said.