Sean

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.

"Thank you," Laurel replied, wondering if it was because of the new shade of lipstick she wore or the flush of sexual satisfaction on her cheeks.

"I didn't say you looked good. I said you looked different."

"Well, I'm glad to see you noticed something about me. That's a positive step."

Sinclair dropped his magazine. 'Your dress has roses on it."

"No, these are peonies, not roses. There's a difference."

"How did the auction go?" Sean asked, sitting next to Laurel and putting an end to the verbal sparring.

Sinclair pointed to a wooden box on the coffee table in front of him. "She's a beauty," he said. "Take a look."

Sean opened the box and examined the coin. "You know what I find so amazing about your coins?"

"What is that, Edward?"

"That the thing you love the most, you can hold in your hand." He picked up the coin. "You can close your fist around it and never let it go. No one can take it from you, either. There aren't many things in life that are so safe."

Laurel held her breath, startled by Sean's words. Was he talking about the coin, or was he talking about her? Sinclair had done his best to chain her to this house and to his silly rules about her inheritance. She felt like one of his coins, a possession he really didn't need, but couldn't let anyone else have, a possession that he held so tightly he nearly destroyed it in the process.

Sean opened his fist and handed the coin back to Sinclair. "She is beautiful," he said.

"Yes, she is," Sinclair replied. He glanced at Laurel, his gaze meeting hers for the first time in years. "I suppose we had better talk about your trust fund." He moved his gaze back to Sean. "You are aware that Laurel is an heiress. Her father left her a sizable trust that he gave me the responsibility of administrating. I decided Laurel should get the money after her twenty-sixth birthday and after she married."

"She's told me," Sean said.

"I've structured the trust so that Laurel's husband will have no claim to the money."

Sean shrugged. "That doesn't concern me. I didn't marry Laurel for her money."

Laurel suddenly realized that she wasn't breathing. She gulped in a quick breath and tried to calm her nerves. She'd come into the room expecting to be handed a check. She hadn't counted on an inquisition.

"Why did you marry Laurel?" Sinclair asked.

"Because I love her."

"And you expect your marriage to last?"

Sean nodded. "Yes."

"All right." Sinclair held up his hand and Alistair placed a check in it. Laurel tried to contain her excitement. Her dream was so close, she could almost feel it. But instead of being overjoyed, she felt a certain measure of dread. Her future was about to begin, and her present-with Sean-would be left behind.

"With all the pressures of modern life," Sinclair intoned, "I feel that I need to make some accommodations for the possibility that this marriage might not be… oh, what is the word I'm searching for… permanent. To that end, I've decided to give you your trust fund over time. You'll get two hundred and fifty thousand today, five hundred thousand on your first wedding anniversary, a million on your second, two million on your third and the balance on your fourth anniversary. If you stay married, you'll have your fortune by the time you're thirty-one. I think this is a reasonable plan."

Laurel stood. "This was not the agreement," she said. "You can't do this. You can't change the rules in the middle of the game."

"I can do whatever I want," Sinclair said, straightening in his chair. "Oh, and one more condition. You and your husband have to continue to live here in the mansion. This is the Rand family home and any Rand family heirs should be brought up here."

"Why would you do this?" Laurel demanded. "Do you want me to hate you?"

"I want you to be happy," Sinclair said, as if the answer were obvious to everyone but her.

"Well, this is a crappy way to prove that." Unable to contain her emotions any longer, Laurel crumpled up the check, threw it at his head and stalked out of the room. Her body trembled uncontrollably and she wasn't sure whether to cry or to scream. She was twenty-six years old and an eighty-year-old man was pulling all the strings! If it continued like this, she'd be an old woman and still be waiting for Sinclair to throw her a few crumbs.

She took the stairs two at a time and ran into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Sean's duffel was stuffed under the bed and she found her suitcases on the top shelf of the closet. "I'm through. I've had enough. Uncle Sinclair can just take his millions and shove them up his-" Laurel finished with a curse, then yanked open her dresser and started pulling out clothes at random. "I am out of here." A soft knock sounded on the door. "Go away!" she shouted.

The door opened and Sean stepped inside. He crossed to the bed and stared down at her open suitcase. "What are you doing?"

"I'm finished. I don't care about the money, I don't care about the community center. It was all just a stupid, silly dream. I thought I could do something that my parents would have been proud of, but it's impossible. I'm going to find an apartment and see if the school district will let me substitute teach. I'm going to get on with my life."

Sean held out the crumpled check. "I thought you might want this."

"No. I don't want any of Sinclair's money."

"It's your money, Laurel. And this is enough to get started on the renovations. Once Amy comes through, there will be more. You can still make this work. I know you can."

Tears pressed at the corners of her eyes and she fought them back. She wouldn't cry, she couldn't give Sinclair that last little bit of her dignity. But when Sean reached up and cupped her cheek in his palm, one of the tears slipped out.

"I can't do this anymore," she murmured. "I can't fight him any longer." He pulled her into his arms, enveloping her in his embrace. Laurel pressed her face into his chest and sobbed. "I want my life to start and that can't happen here."

"Just give it a little more time," Sean said. "Stay here with me tonight and see how you feel in the morning."

"Why do you care?" she asked.

He tipped her face up until her gaze met his. "I want you to be happy."

"But we can't continue this," she said, throwing up her arms in frustration.

"And why not? Sinclair hasn't asked for any proof that we're married. He'll go back to Maine, we'll live together here at the house when he's around, and go on with our lives when he isn't. Hell, I could live here full-time. It would save on rent."

"You… you'd do that for me?"

"I don't have anything better to do."

"If Sinclair finds out we're not married, he'll hold everything until I'm thirty-one. He might even decide to wait until I'm fifty. That's his choice."

"How is he going to find out? We've fooled him so far."

"If I could afford to pay you for a year, I would. But I can't. At five hundred a day that would be-"

"About a hundred and eighty thousand," Sean said. "And you don't have to pay me."

"You'd stay for no reason?"

"I have my reasons. I want to see you make the community center work. That's reason enough."

"I can't ask you to do that," Laurel said, shaking her head. "You want to get your business off the ground and-"

"I can still do that," Sean said.

She hesitated. "And how would things be?"

"I'd go to work every morning and so would you. We'd come home and have dinner."

"I mean, how would it be between us?" she interrupted. "What would we be to each other?"

Sean considered her question for a long moment. "I don't know. We'd have to figure that out as we went along."

She blinked, then stared down at her hands. She wanted to be his love and his life. She wanted him to promise that he'd stay forever. But he obviously wasn't ready to do that-and maybe he never would be. She'd grown to love the vulnerability in him. But that vulnerability was what kept him from returning her love.

"I-I really appreciate the offer. And I will think about it." Laurel turned and crawled onto the bed, pulling the covers up around her. She felt the bed shift as he lay behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her back against his body.

"We'll figure this out," he reassured her. "We just need to give it a little more time."

A sigh slipped from her throat. Maybe he was right. Laurel was sometimes too impatient for her own good. But how long was she willing to wait for her dream to come true? And how long would it be before Sean Quinn finally admitted that he loved her? Would either come to pass or would she spend her lifetime waiting?

Laurel steered her car into the circular drive of the Rand mansion and pulled it up to the front door. After a restless night's sleep, she'd awakened in Sean's arms, both of them still dressed from the night before. They'd talked quietly and Sean had convinced her to stick to her plan, to leave all her options open for now and not make any rash decisions.

Alistair had prepared a quick breakfast for them both, hovering over them, worried that she was still angry over the argument with her uncle. Laurel wondered why the butler had even bothered to tell her about Sinclair and her mother. If her uncle loved her, then he had a real problem when it came to showing it.

She turned off the ignition and grabbed her purse from the passenger seat, slipping the deposit slip from the bank inside. Sean had been right. A quarter of a million dollars was nothing to sniff at She could buy a lot of nails and boards and duct work with that kind of money. Once the check cleared the bank, the money was all hers and Sinclair couldn't take it back. Laurel smiled. For once, she'd pulled Sinclair's strings! But she wasn't trying to delude herself. This might be the one and only string she ever got to pull.

If she and Sean made it through a year of their pretend marriage, it would be a major miracle. So many things could go wrong. Sinclair could get suspicious… she might slip up and call Sean by his real name… or- Laurel groaned. Sean might meet another woman and decide he didn't want to be "married" to her anymore.

"This will never work." Every time he left the house, she'd be holding her breath, waiting for the day that he decided not to return. After all, he'd offered to stay out of the goodness of his heart. But what if that heart found another woman to be good to?

Laurel pressed her fingers to her temples and cursed softly. "One day at a time," she muttered. The next step was to make sure her presentation to the Aldrich-Sloane Family Foundation went well. After that, she'd worry about her marriage-or lack of one.

She stepped out of the car and hurried to the front door. She'd dropped Sean off at his apartment so he could pick up his car and his messages and he'd promised to return before lunch. A nervous knot twisted in her stomach.

Now that she'd decided to carry on with the marriage, it was time to get a few things straight between them. Laurel was not about to spend the next year guessing at his feelings. Either he told her exactly how he felt about her or the deal was off. She'd confront him over chicken salad sandwiches and iced tea.

It was a risk, she mused. But better to know the truth than to spend another minute fantasizing about a man who might never love her. She'd certainly made her feelings crystal clear-or had she? Though she'd never said the words out loud, they'd been implied more than once. And surely her actions revealed what she felt in her heart.

But like Sean, she'd been holding a piece of her heart in reserve. She'd never wanted to fall in love, never wanted to risk losing someone she cared about. Yet that's what love was one big gamble, one throw of the dice, one chance at the lottery. She sighed. If she didn't get in the game, she'd never win. But if she did, she risked losing it all.

Laurel punched in the code for the front door and reached for the knob. But the door swung open in front of her. She froze, the figure that emerged catching her by complete surprise. "Edward?"

Eddie the Cruiser sent her a charming smile, a smile she'd once found so magnetic but now found too smarmy. "Hello, Laurel." His hand came to rest on her arm and he leaned closer to kiss her cheek, but Laurel danced out of his reach.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to visit. Aren't you glad to see me?"

"I don't want to see you. After what you did to me, I'm surprised you'd show your face here."

"Oh, but I think you do want to see me." He grabbed her arm, his fingers pinching into her flesh, and pulled her away from the door and into the driveway. "After my unfortunate arrest and brief incarceration, I was concerned about you. The minute I got out, I came for a visit. Imagine my surprise when I was greeted by the man who had me arrested. Now, what was his name? I think it was Quinn?"

"Get out of here before I call the police," Laurel warned, yanking her arm from his grasp.

"That got me a little curious, so I went back to the church. The minister told me you got married that day. And he described your groom. Now, I may have made a few mistakes along the way, but at least when I got married, it was for real."

"Don't you dare talk to me about marriage. I trusted you. And you betrayed me."

"And how do you think I feel? You never mentioned the real reason why you wanted to marry me. Or should I say, the five million reasons why. I thought you loved me."

"I never loved you," Laurel said. "Maybe subconsciously I knew all along what a bastard you were and I wouldn't let myself love you."

"But you love this guy who's pretending to be your husband?"

Laurel tilted her chin defiantly. "Maybe I do."

"Or maybe you just want your five million dollars and you're willing to use any sap to get it."

"How do you know about the money?"

Eddie grinned and crossed his arms over his chest, gloating. "Your uncle told me. We had a very nice little talk. I must say, he was surprised to find out the man sleeping in your bed wasn't really Edward Garland Wilson of Palm Beach, Florida, but some lowlife P.I. you picked up on the street."

Without thinking, she balled her fingers into a fist and bent her knees, gathering all the energy and strength she possessed. Then she took a swing at him, punching as hard as she could. But she completely missed his stomach and hit him squarely in the groin. The breath left Eddie's lungs in a big whoosh and he groaned, stumbling backward until he fell to the brick pavement.

Laurel was still standing over him, her fingers clenched, when Sean pulled up behind Eddie's car. He jumped out and ran to her side. "What the hell happened here?"

Laurel rubbed her fist. "I hit him. He's been lying there for about a minute."

"You knocked him down? Did he hit his head?" Sean asked.

"No. He just kind of rolled over and started moaning."

Eddie groaned and rolled over again, still curled up in a ball. A grin slowly curled Sean's lips. "Oh. You hit him there."

Laurel stepped up to Eddie. "Maybe I should kick him."

Eddie held up his hand in surrender and Sean grabbed Laurel around the waist and pulled her back. When he'd finally convinced her to stay put, he bent and hauled Eddie to his feet. "I told you to stay away from Laurel." He shoved him toward his car. "Now get the hell out of here before I let her beat the crap out of you."

"That's for me and all the women you scammed," Laurel shouted. "I hope you rot in jail." She picked up a clod of dirt from the flower bed and threw it at Eddie's car as he squealed out of the driveway. As he made the turn onto the street, Laurel sat on the front step and covered her face with her hands.

It was all over. Sinclair knew everything. He'd call the bank and stop payment on her check. He'd probably throw her out on the street for tricking him. And he might even decide she was too irresponsible to handle her money ever.

"Are you all right?" Sean asked.

"Sinclair knows," she said. "Eddie talked to him and he knows everything." Laurel stared up at him and laughed ruefully. "The funny thing is, now that it's over, I don't feel so bad. It makes everything a lot simpler." She pushed to her feet. "I guess I better go face Sinclair. Or maybe I should just pack my bags and leave before he can say anything."

"I could talk to him for you," Sean offered.

Pushing up on her toes, she kissed his cheek. "I think I've dragged you through my family problems enough for now." She punched in the code for the door. "Stick around. I'll let you know how it goes."

Laurel walked inside and headed straight for the library. If Sinclair wasn't eating in the dining room or sleeping in his bedroom, he'd be in the library pouring over auction catalogs and reference books. It was time to stand up for herself, time to give Sinclair an ultimatum. What did she have to lose?

She didn't bother to knock, instead she just walked in. "All right. I'm not married. There, I said it. I pretended to get married because I wanted my trust fund."

Sinclair looked up from his magazine. He glanced at her hands. "Your fingernails are dirty."

"Did you hear what I said? I'm not married. The man who's been sleeping in my bedroom isn't my husband. He's a man I hired to pretend to be my husband because the man who was supposed to be my husband was already married-to nine different women. And this is all your fault."

"Why is that?" Sinclair asked.

"Because I wanted my trust fund. And I was willing to do anything to get it. So, here's the deal. Either you give me my trust fund right now or you'll never see me again." Laurel crossed her arms beneath her breasts and crossed her fingers for good luck. If Alistair was telling the truth about Sinclair's feelings, maybe Sinclair would simply capitulate.

"You knew my terms," Sinclair said.

"Your terms are ridiculous! That money is my inheritance. My father never meant for you to hold it over my head like some kind of bone I'm supposed to jump for. Are you going to give me my money or not?" she demanded.

"No," Sinclair said.

"Then you'll never see me again." Laurel's heart pounded in her chest. Though she and Sinclair had never been close, he was the only family she had. If she walked away from him, she'd have no one. But when it was clear he wasn't going to give in, Laurel's decision was made. It was over. She turned and walked out of the library.

Alistair was waiting outside, a worried expression on his face. "Miss Laurel, you have to give him time. You can't leave."

Laurel reached out and gave Alistair a hug. "I don't have any choice. I've got to start to living my own life. Thank you for being such a good friend. I do love you, Alistair."

"The feeling is quite mutual," he said.

She forced a smile. "So, I guess I better pack. I'm going to have to find a new apartment. I'm sure Sinclair won't allow me to take any furniture, but I-"

"You take whatever you want," Alistair whispered. He gave her hand a squeeze. "And don't forget that nice man you found. Take him with you, too. I don't think you'll find another as good as him."

Laurel nodded, then headed up the stairs to her bedroom. What was she going to do about Sean? Over the past week he'd become a part of her life, an important part. But it had only been a week, seven days of passion and lust. Would what they'd shared survive outside this house?

She stopped on the stairs and slowly turned. She hadn't realized how hard it would be to leave the only home she'd ever known. There were so many memories of her parents here, so many connections to people she'd lost.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I tried to stick it out. It's time for me to move on." Laurel wanted to believe her parents heard her, that their spirits lived in the house, that they would approve. She'd stood up for herself against her tyrant of an uncle and that was the most important thing.

Once again she'd let her emotions color her behavior. That was the way it had always been. She'd careened through her life, making mistake after mistake, searching for her place in the world. But her dream for the children's center was still within her reach. She could make it happen if she really wanted to.

But did the same apply to Sean? Could she make him love her the same way she loved him? Or was a week just not enough time to know how either one of them felt?

Sean tossed a stack of T-shirts into his duffel bag. In the closet, he found the four brand-new dress shirts that Laurel had purchased for him the day they'd gone shopping. He wasn't sure whether they were his to take, so he decided to leave them behind, along with the two sport jackets, three ties and three pairs of trousers.

His mind flashed back to that first day they'd spent together. They'd had so much fun, first walking through her building in Dorchester and then spending the afternoon shopping like a pair of newlyweds beginning a life together. There were so many good memories that he'd collected in such a short time with Laurel, memories he knew would follow him around for the rest of his life. He'd been given a taste of heaven. Without taking a single vow, he'd had a chance to experience life as a married man, to live day-in and day-out with a beautiful woman, to share her bed-and a passion that he'd never dreamed possible.

Sean had hoped he'd have more time with Laurel, maybe even a month or two. The day he'd walked into the church to tell Laurel her wedding was off, he'd been a different man, cynical about love and marriage, so certain that his life was exactly as he wanted it. And now he was actually able to see the possibilities, to believe that he might have the capacity to find happiness with just one woman.

Boxers, socks and jeans followed his T-shirts into the duffel. It seemed as if he had just unpacked yesterday. Sean sighed. He loved her, that much was true. But his feelings were so new and untested he couldn't trust them. Life with Laurel had been a fantasy. But he wouldn't know if his feelings were real or imagined until they were tested by time and distance.

The door opened behind him and he zipped up the bag. He turned to see Laurel slip inside. Her expression was unreadable. His heart ached as he saw the answer in her eyes. "How did it go?"

She shrugged. "As expected. He's not going to give me my trust fund, so I'm leaving. I'm going to get on with my life."

"Are you sure?" Sean asked. "Maybe you should give him a little more time."

"Nope." She walked over to the closet and grabbed the suitcases she'd begun to pack just a day ago. "I'm fine with this. I have a little money in a savings account and I might be able to pick up a teaching job. I need to find an apartment, but until then, I have a few friends I taught with who'll put me up. I'll see if I can stay with Nan Salinger. You met her at my wedding. She was my maid of honor."

"You can stay with me," Sean suggested. "I have a big apartment." He didn't expect her to say yes, but he said a short prayer anyway. He couldn't bear the thought of passing an entire day and night without seeing her or touching her. An ache had settled into his heart and he knew it came from the spot that she was about to abandon.

"Thanks for the offer," Laurel said. "But I need to do this on my own. It's time for me to stand up for myself and stop depending on others. I've had a pretty cushy life, but that's over now."

"What about the center?"

"I don't know. I'm going to try to make it work without my trust fund, but it's going to be tough. Life looked a lot easier when I had five million to throw around. I'll call Amy and tell her that my situation has changed."

"And Rafe's people are still working on the plans and estimates."

"Maybe you should call and tell them to stop," Laurel murmured.

Sean stuffed a stray pair of jeans into his bag. "No. Damn it, Laurel, the center is a good idea. Go ahead and do your presentation to the foundation. Make it work. What do you have to lose?"

"You should be glad this is over," Laurel commented. "Now your life can get back to normal."

"I was beginning to feel like this was normal."

She shook her head. "No. This was just make-believe, Sean. Like magic. We snap our fingers and it's gone."

Sean reached out and took her hand, twisting his fingers around hers. "It wasn't all make-believe. And it's not going to disappear so easily."

He wanted to kiss her, to drag her into his arms and convince himself that nothing had changed between them, that Laurel still wanted him as much as he wanted her. But if their relationship did end here and now, kissing her would only make that end much harder to bear.

"Maybe not," she said with a weak smile. Laurel picked up her purse from where she'd thrown it on the floor, then pulled out her checkbook. "I guess I'd better pay you."

"I don't want your money," Sean said, his anger flaring. Was this so easy for her? To just push him out of her life without a second thought? He'd thought they'd made a connection, something stronger than could be broken with just a shrug and a check.

"I want to. I'm afraid I don't have enough for the whole month. I was expecting a windfall and that didn't come through."

"I wasn't here for a month. Let's just call it even."

"But we had an agreement," she argued. "I can give you two thousand now. Once I get settled and get back to work, I can give you more."

Sean reached in his pocket and withdrew his wallet. He found Laurel's original check inside and handed it to her.

"What's this?"

"I want to make a donation," he said. "To the Louise Carpenter Rand Center for the Arts. Keep your money. Just send me a receipt when you get up and running so I can deduct this on my taxes," he said with a wink. Laurel stared down at the check, her lower lip trembling. When she looked back up at him again, her eyes had filled with tears. "I'm going to miss you, Sean Quinn."

Sean slipped his hand over her nape and pulled her close, kissing her softly. To hell with his resolve. If this was the last time, then he wanted one good memory to carry with him. "We had a pretty good marriage."

She smiled through her tears. "It was good. Maybe it was so good because we weren't really married."

He gently stroked her cheek, trying to memorize the feel of her skin. "If you need anything at all, I want you to call me, Laurel." He pulled his wallet from his pocket and withdrew a business card.

"That has my phone and cell phone number and you can always reach me at the pub. They'll know where I am."

"I'll remember that."

He wanted to tell her right then, to wrap his arms around her and to murmur the words, to beg her to make a life with him. But Laurel was right. They'd lived in a fantasy world this whole time, a place where they only had to think about eating and sleeping and making love. The honeymoon was over and Sean couldn't be sure that what they'd shared would last.

His brain screamed at him to take the risk, to surrender his soul. But instinct held him back. "I should go," he murmured, knowing that if he stayed a minute longer he might be lost.

Laurel reached up and slipped her arms around his neck, giving him a hug. "I guess I'll be seeing you."

"Not if I see you first," Sean teased. He hoisted his bag over his shoulder and walked to the door. He didn't look back, certain he'd forget all his resolve and find an excuse to stay.

As he walked down the stairs, he saw Alistair waiting at the bottom. He stopped, held out his hand, and the butler shook it. "Thanks for everything, Alistair. You know your beer and you make a helluva breakfast."

"Thank you, Mr. Sean."

"It's just Sean." He glanced up the stairs. "Keep an eye on her, all right?"

"That should be your job," the butler said.

Sean shook his head. "I wish it was, but I'm not sure I'm the guy to do it."

"I think you're the only guy to do it, sir."

Sean clapped the butler on the shoulder, then strode to the door. He considered making a stop in the library to give Sinclair Rand a piece of his mind. But in the end he walked out, walked away from the Mighty Quinn curse, away from the woman who was supposed to be his destiny. Sean wasn't sure if he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life or had saved himself a broken heart. But he figured he'd know soon enough.