Buying His Bride (The Donovan Brothers Trilogy Book 1) (14 page)

“I always wanted a daughter, and now I have a smart, talented, and beautiful one,” the senior Donovan concluded after a couple minutes of remarks. “Thank you, Michael, for adding to our family, and thank you, Sierra, for honoring us by joining it.”

With every minute, the happy scene in which she played a leading role seemed more and more artificial.

That’s all it was. Play-acting. Not to mention a deception of some of their closest friends and family. She wiped away a surreptitious tear.

Michael looked down at her. “What’s the matter?” he whispered.

To deflect his scrutiny, she replied in a similar whisper, “I thought brides always cried on their wedding days.”

“From happiness, yes. Right this moment you look like you’re about to pass out.”

With that, he plucked the glass from her hand, put it aside, and turned back to her. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. I’m about to kiss you, so let’s make this good.”

Before she had a chance to think, Michael took her in his arms in what Sierra told herself was a stage kiss, put on for the benefit of the onlookers. With the part of her brain that could still think, she concluded that perhaps he’d missed his calling. He should have gone into acting.

And then she ceased to think at all.

Michael had done no more than kiss her lightly and hold her hand when they were seen together in public. It had been two months since he rocked her world with the most amazing sex she’d ever experienced. He hadn’t touched her again except to create the impression of a loving couple in front of others.

Now his lips covered hers in a kiss that seemed both teasing and tender. Gone was the remote man of a few seconds ago. Wrapped in his arms, she felt both cherished and protected.

Even though she knew, once again, this impression was for the sake of others.

An illusion, yes, but a powerful one.

She twined her arms around his neck and kissed him back, forgetting that they were sharing a moment of pretense, nothing more. Forgetting, too, that she was didn’t want anything else.

It satisfied their friends and family, who beamed as Sierra, somewhat flustered, extricated herself from Michael’s embrace. “That’s better,” he said, underneath the voices of their guests. “You don’t look so pale now.”

A little peeved she felt shaken by a kiss that left Michael unaffected, Sierra took refuge in irony. “One kiss is all it takes, is that it?”

He laughed. “Oh, I do hope not. Why do myself out of the pleasure of more such kisses?”

“You haven’t appeared to want them recently,” she retorted in a whisper, turning away.

Well, it was true. Not that she cared.

Grace broke in. “Okay, you lovebirds, time to break it up. Sierra needs to change and prepare for the reception.”

“She spent all morning getting ready for the wedding. What’s left to do, for heaven’s sake?” Michael looked mystified.

“That’s for us to know and you to find out,” said Jen, overhearing Michael’s words and joining forces with Grace. “You may have married her, but you can’t see her again until tonight. We have more work to do. You’ll see each other at the hotel later.”

“We’ll see each other when we go to the reception.”

“Oh no, you’re not riding there together.” Jen stood up to Michael. “I don’t want you to muss her up on the way, and judging from that kiss right now, that’s exactly what you’d do.”

Sierra, remembering their first time in a car alone together, felt herself turn red.

The room erupted in friendly laughter.

****

Stunning in a designer moss-green evening gown she and Jen had selected at Threads, Sierra was exhausted before the dinner and dancing even began. An hour of standing in a receiving line greeting some two hundred guests as they entered the lavish gold and white Excelsior ballroom had done a number on her feet. She took turns easing first one foot and then the other out of her very high heels and wiggling them. Jen knew how to pick both gowns and footwear but she didn’t select shoes with an eye to comfort.

The guests, the majority of whom she did not know, were blurring in her mind.

“Sierra, you remember Lydia Foster.” Sierra stumbled a little in place as Michael spoke. “You met her a number of months ago.” He steadied her as she climbed back into her shoes and instantly gained three inches in height.

“Of course.” Who could forget the look Lydia had directed her way when Michael announced their engagement? As Lydia stopped before them, Sierra said “How nice to see you again.” There. That was polite. Also insincere.

Dressed in a clinging scarlet gown with plunging neckline and back, the woman looked stunning, though Sierra thought her attire was more appropriate for a nightclub than a wedding reception. Nevertheless, the color of the gown was a perfect foil for the woman’s dark, dramatic good looks.

“Michael, congratulations!” Lydia ignored her for the moment and, in a brazen move, kissed Michael on the mouth, putting her arms around his neck.

To his credit, he disentangled himself from her and pulled away. “Thank you.” His tone was dry. “You do remember Sierra, my wife?” He underscored the last word.

“Who could forget her?” Lydia’s smile was fully in place. “Michael, I don’t believe you’ve met my friend, but I understand Sierra has.” Lydia’s companion had paused earlier in the line to chat with Connor and Grace. Now he turned from them to Michael, and Sierra’s blood froze.

It couldn’t be.

But it was.

Grant Townsend. William’s father. Despite the intervening years, Sierra would have recognized him anywhere.

“Hello, Sierra.” Still good-looking in a past-his-prime way, Grant kissed her on the cheek in a familiar, lingering manner. “It’s been a long time.”

“Very,” managed Sierra, lips numb.

“You’ve done well for yourself, I see.” His smile was more than a little snide. “Congratulations on your marriage.”

Michael slipped an arm around Sierra’s waist. “I believe it’s customary to congratulate the groom, not the bride.” His tone was smooth. And dangerous. A muscle tightened in his jaw. “You are who, exactly?”

“Oh, I can’t believe that in all DEI’s dealings with high-end resorts, you and Grant haven’t encountered each other,” Lydia said. “Grant owns one of the top luxury destination travel agencies in the city now. He planned my last trip for me.” She shot a glance at Sierra. “And I understand his son William will take over the business someday soon. Sierra, I think you know William, don’t you? Didn’t Grant offer you an internship when you were in college?”

If Sierra had felt sick earlier, it was nothing to what she felt now. Her wedding day wasn’t a time she wanted her relationship with the Townsends to surface. She’d thought it was long vanished and buried.

“I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure, Townsend,” Michael replied. “But I do hope you both enjoy the evening. Please make yourselves welcome.”

His abrupt dismissal was obvious and the pair moved along, Lydia not pleased to be shunted down the line. “You must save me a dance later,” she called back. “I’m sure neither Grant nor Sierra will mind. They’ll want to renew their acquaintance over a dance as well.”

What was Grant doing here after all these years? How well did he and Lydia know each other? Why was he here now, at her wedding reception? A wave of anxiety slammed into her, and she struggled to contain it.

“The end of the guest line is in sight,” Michael murmured before greeting the next person, mistaking her distress for fatigue. “Then we can go in to dinner. Sierra? Later you can explain to me how you came to know Grant Townsend.”

Bijou’s chef outdid herself. The hotel’s restaurant was shut down for the evening so its kitchens could provide a four-course meal for the reception’s guests. Pristine white linens covered the tables set with the finest china, crystal, and cutlery. Sierra marveled at the sheer size of the production. Between Juliette and a team of talented administrative assistants at the main offices of DEI, they had staged a magnificent dinner.

Thank God she hadn’t had to plan any of this. It would have been agony to orchestrate such an event for a marriage that was in name only. She’d wanted no part of it.

There were rounds of toasts, the usual cutting of a gorgeous wedding cake, and a crew of photographers who snapped staged shots that implied spontaneity. Selected photos would be released to the press the next morning, along with one of the portraits of her and Michael taken on the hotel grounds. Only now did she grasp the enormity of joining the Donovan clan. The mere prospect had been exhausting. The reality was even more so.

After the meal, the small orchestra that had been hired played a range of music in a smaller adjoining ballroom in which guests could dance. “We’re on again,” Michael murmured, and before she knew it, he’d ushered her into the middle of the room for the customary first dance of the bride and groom.

Sierra panicked. “I told you I don’t know how to dance!”

“As I recall, the last time you told me that, you did just fine.”

“We’re not going to dance like that in front of all these people!” She stiffened in his arms.

“My, my, such delicate sensibilities. We’re married, remember? How do you think people will expect us to dance?”

Despite his sardonic words, however, he guided her into a slow, simple waltz that she managed to follow after the first few turns, rather than a more intimate slow dance.

“Where’d you learn how to dance?” she asked, beneath the smattering of applause of their guests as they settled into a rhythm she could follow.

“Cotillion at the country club,” he replied, with a straight face. “How else was I supposed to learn how to escort San Francisco debutantes?”

It figured. While he’d been learning how to waltz, she’d been working her way through high school and college and worrying about the family business. She grimaced, and he laughed, reading her thoughts.

“That’s also where I learned how to lead,” he continued.

“Well, you do that well.” She missed a step, which he quickly masked.

In a wicked undertone, he added, “I lead well in other areas, too.” It was the first suggestive remark he’d made in months.

She refused to look into his eyes, keeping her own on his chiseled chin. He laughed again. Sometimes she thought she was a source of constant humor for him. She knew for certain she was no match for his changing moods, especially on this day.

Michael circled her around the dance floor again, and Connor cut in to claim the rest of the dance. Following protocol, Michael invited Grace to join him, which was the signal for other guests to participate.

As far as Sierra was concerned, the evening couldn’t end soon enough. Among the demands of the past several weeks, the unexpected and unwelcome appearance of Grant Townsend, and the endless procession of guests, she couldn’t wait for the reception to end.

Which is exactly when Grant cut in on her partner, one of Connor’s friends, and claimed her for a dance. His looks had become more florid in recent years. The last thing she wanted to do was dance with him, but Lydia had set her up earlier, and good manners forbade her a refusal.

“Hello again, Sierra,” he said in an ingratiating yet overbearing tone. “I couldn’t miss a chance to dance with the bride, now, could I? After all, we’re old friends.”

Holding herself stiffly in his arms, she made no pretense at cordiality. “Hello, Grant. That’s not what I would have ever called us.”

He chuckled in familiar fashion. “Well, maybe friends isn’t the right term for our…relationship.” At Sierra’s disbelieving stare, he continued. “You wouldn’t want to warm up just a little bit, would you, for old times’ sake? Remember, I know exactly how friendly you can be when you want.” His arm tightened around her waist.

Sierra held herself away from him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Grant’s expression darkened. “Oh, come on. You weren’t so choosy before the Donovans came along, sucking up to William and me.” His arm was like a vise. “You were willing to be awfully friendly to William then.”

Sierra stared in disbelief. “I was eighteen and I thought was in love with him. I was an idiot. I thought he loved me and wanted to help me. The internship with your company was his idea, not mine!”

Grant’s laugh was nasty. “Right. That’s why you went to bed with him.”

In a low, furious voice, she hissed, “I went to bed with him because he half-drugged me to get me there. That wasn’t my idea, either. I didn’t sleep around!”

As if he hadn’t heard, he continued, “After you got the internship, you dropped him, having achieved what you wanted.”

“You can’t believe that. William is the one who broke up with me. He got tired of me within a month!”

“Oh, please. Who am I going to believe—my own son, or a little tramp who believes she can sleep her way to the top?” He piloted her around the dance floor. “He said you were certain you could wrap me around your little finger, too—so why you made such a fuss when I tried to get a little friendlier, I have no idea.”

Sierra felt as if she were trapped in an alternate universe, decked out in complicated lies that father and son had spun. “You and William are sick, you know that? You lie to each other and you lie to other people. You came on to me after William and I broke up. I didn’t come on to you.”

“Listen to you,” Grant sneered, never missing a step in their dance. “High and mighty, now that you’ve married a Donovan. I wonder what the family would think of you if I were to tell my version of events. How do you suppose they’d feel about a woman who was willing to prostitute herself and sleep her way through father and son, simply to get a chance at climbing the corporate ladder? That wouldn’t exactly be the kind of image that your husband would want his bride to project. The old man wouldn’t like it much, either.”

Sierra jerked herself out of his arms and came to a sudden halt on the dance floor. “You wouldn’t dare try spreading that story again! It’s all lies.”

He pulled her to the side and continued their conversation in an undertone. “No woman turns me down, Sierra. Not without consequences. If it came to my word against yours, whom do you think people would believe? Me, who has some professional standing in the city, or you, a nobody with a questionable past who ups and marries Michael Donovan in only a few months’ time?” His smile was ugly. “It wouldn’t look good for either you or the Donovans if I were to go public with a little ancient history.”