Kate Hoffmann - Sean

Laurel bent down and gave her uncle a kiss on the cheek. "I'll call you when I-I mean, we get back." She gave Sean's arm a tug, but he stayed glued to his spot.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Rand. I hope we'll have a chance to talk again."

Sinclair waved his hand as if to dismiss them both. Laurel decided it was best to make a quick exit before Sean said anything else. When they were out of earshot, she turned to him. "Why did you tell him that? You know you're not going to see him again."

"But he's not supposed to know that. In fact, if I was really Edward, I'd be expecting to see him again, wouldn't I?"

Laurel frowned. "Right," she murmured. "That sounds logical. Good thinking. Come on, we just have to say goodbye and I have to throw my bouquet. Then we're done here."

In truth, Laurel really didn't want the evening to end. Though her shoes were pinching and she'd be glad to get out of her dress, she really wasn't sure what she was going to do after this. She was due to leave for Hawaii early the next morning.

When she got back, she'd drive up to Maine and her uncle would present her with a check for five million. She'd lay low for a few months, then find a way to explain how the marriage had been a mistake. If she laid the blame on Sean-or "Edward"-then maybe her uncle might feel more sympathetic and understand her decision.

But even now, knowing what she knew about Sean, it was difficult to paint him as the horrible husband. Throughout this silly drama, he'd been so kind and supportive, and she'd begun to think of him as more than just a stranger collecting a fee for doing a job. For a brief moment in time he'd been the perfect husband-solid, dependable… and sexy.

She glanced over at him. Maybe she didn't know anything about Sean Quinn. But she did know how he made her feel when he kissed her and touched her. Wild and crazy and… breathless. And Laurel knew those were feelings she might never find again.

Sean sat in the back of the limo, his gaze fixed on the scenery as it passed by. The car had driven south out of Boston to Cohasset and now followed the shore through an exclusive neighborhood of old summer homes and beautiful mansions set near the water. Laurel had offered to drop him at the church first so he could retrieve his car, but he'd insisted that he could wait. He hadn't expected her to live halfway to Cape Cod.

Still, Sean was grateful for the quiet of the limo and a chance to spend a few more minutes with Laurel. Though she'd paid him for one day's work, he wasn't quite ready to call an end to their agreement. When he'd first accepted the check, he thought it might be a chore to go through the charade of a wedding. But the responsibility of spending the afternoon and evening with Laurel had turned from an unpleasant task into an enjoyable time.

He glanced over at her and found her absorbed in her own thoughts. "When does your plane leave?" he asked.

"Early tomorrow morning. I've got to be at the airport at 5:00 a.m. Uncle Sinclair is staying at the house, but I can sneak in, change and get my bags without waking him. The limo will drop you off back at your car. I'll drive myself to the airport." She turned to look at him. "What are you going to do for the rest of the night?"

"My family has a pub in Southie. Quinn's Pub. They're open until two. I'll probably stop there for a pint if it's not too late."

"I want to thank you for helping me out this afternoon," Laurel said.

"No problem," Sean said. Suddenly it had become so difficult to talk to her. He felt like the same old tongue-tied teenager rendered mute by a conversation with a pretty girl. "Hawaii should be nice this time of year." God, he'd sunk as low as the weather for a topic. It couldn't get much worse than that! Maybe he ought to cut his losses while he could and just shut up.

A few moments later the limo pulled into a wide circular drive, then parked in front of a huge stone mansion. "This is where I live," Laurel said.

"Jeez. It's huge."

"I know. It's too large for just one person. But the house was in the family, I grew up here, and Uncle Sinclair refuses to let me sell it, so I live here." Silence descended over them. "I guess this is it," Laurel murmured.

"I'll walk you inside," Sean offered. He pushed open his door and circled around the back of the limo, reaching Laurel just in time to help her out of the car. They walked hand in hand to the front door, her wide skirts rustling on the cobblestone driveway.

Laurel punched in the security code and the door automatically unlocked. She turned to him. "I guess this is it," she murmured.

"Not quite," Sean said. In one quick movement he reached down and scooped her up into his arms, then kicked the door open with his foot.

"What are you doing?" Laurel cried.

"Finishing the job," Sean muttered. He stepped inside the darkened house, then closed the door behind them.

"You don't have to maintain the charade for the limo driver. He doesn't work for the family. I don't think he's going to say anything."

If she thought he was playing a part for the driver, then she was sorely mistaken, Sean mused. He had just managed to come up with an excuse to touch her again and had taken action. Slowly, Sean set her back on her feet, but he let his hands rest on her waist.

He struggled with a sudden impulse, and lost. Throwing all caution to the wind, he kissed her, long and hard and deep. He needed to experience the taste and feel of her lips on his this one last time. Only then could he walk away.

What was it about Laurel Rand that he found so… comfortable? He'd fumbled with conversation for a moment in the limo, but the whole afternoon and evening he'd felt relaxed and easy with her. With other women, he'd always been on edge, unsure of what they wanted from him, suspicious of their motives. The deal he'd struck with Laurel had given him license to enjoy her without the usual games that came with romancing a woman. The instant he'd first touched her, and then when he'd kissed her, he hadn't been forced to think about what to do next. He'd just enjoyed the sensation.

Sean pulled back, but Laurel wrapped her arms around his neck and refused to let go. Slowly he backed her against the wall until her body was trapped against his. He pressed his hips into hers, surprised to find himself growing hard with desire. Where was his self-control? Why was it so simple to want her?

All those old tales of the Mighty Quinns raced through his brain but did nothing to stop him. His hands drifted up her rib cage at the same time his mouth traced a path down to her bare shoulder. If this had been a real wedding night, they'd be making love on the foyer floor before the hour was out. But they were not much more than strangers and this was a stolen moment.

"You should go," Laurel murmured as she furrowed her fingers through his hair.

"I should." He pressed his lips into the curve of her neck.

"We're going to be sorry if we let this go any further."

"We will," he replied.

She inhaled a ragged breath, then pressed her palms against his chest. "You're right."

Sean stared down into her eyes. "Sometimes I'm wrong." All she had to do was to give him the slightest sign and he'd carry her to the nearest bedroom. But he saw only indecision in her eyes. Why make this more complicated? He'd completed his end of their bargain and now it was time to walk away. Besides, he knew he was more suited to be her temporary bridegroom than her permanent lover. It was obvious that Laurel Rand was the marrying type-and he wasn't.

"It was nice being married to you," she whispered with a weak smile. "Thank you for helping me out."

"And thank you for the ten thousand," Sean said. He reached up and ran his fingertips along her cheek. "Have a good time on your honeymoon. I hope you find another husband-a good husband-soon. You deserve that."