The Inconvenient Bride (7 page)

But he would, he vowed. Later.
Later!

God!

“Don't?” She smiled against his chest. “Stop? Or, don't stop?”

Her fingers were stroking him, making his body break out in a sweat. Then she followed her fingers with her tongue, licking him, and he was almost gone.

Desperate, he parted her thighs, sought the slick hot center of her, and plunged in, thanking heaven she was as ready as he was.

If she hadn't been, he'd have hurt her or made a fool of himself.

But she was, and she embraced him. “Ah, Wolfe,” she whispered, her breath hot against his cheek as she shifted, settling him in.

Dominic's eyes squeezed shut against the overpowering sensation and clung desperately to the last shreds of control. He didn't move. Couldn't. Not yet.

Not if he wanted it to be good for her, too. Not if he wanted to shatter her the way she could so easily shatter him.

He took a careful breath and held it. Held it. Held it.

Sierra went still, too. Silent. Her body wriggled. He bit his lip. Hung on.

A finger touched the small of his back. “Wolfe?”

“What?” He said the word without moving, without breathing.

Muffled laugh. “You are still alive. I thought you were dead!”

“Dead!” He reared up, outraged.

But Sierra held him fast. She wrapped her arms around him, giggling, as she wriggled beneath him, then pressing her heels against the backs of his thighs, urging him closer, seating even him deeper inside her.

And that was all it took.

That small movement. That slight friction—and he was a goner. He surged against her, once, twice—and came with
a shuddering, shattering climax that left him weak and wrung out and feeling like a fumbling teenager instead of a thirty-six-year-old man.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Sorry.”

He tried to pull away, to come to grips. But Sierra hung on. She kissed his sweat-slick shoulders. She caressed the damp skin of his back. Her fingers kneaded his buttocks. And Dominic felt small shudders course through him at the same time they seemed to ripple through her.

Was she?

Her fingers clenched. Her nails dug into his butt. Her heels pressed hard against the backs of his thighs.

Had she?

Lord, what kind of moron was he that he couldn't tell? Didn't know?

“Ahhhhh,” she breathed. “Yessssss.” And then she gave a long sigh and her fingers relaxed. She rubbed her foot down his leg, then nuzzled his neck. Her body seemed to settle and soften beneath him. And then he realized that the weight of his body was resting on hers and quickly he rolled away.

This time Sierra let him go. But not far. Just far enough so that she could turn onto her side and snuggle into him. He felt her lips graze one of his nipples and his hand came up involuntarily and stroked her hair.

“Dominic?”

That surprised him as she rarely called him anything but Wolfe. His hand stilled. “What?” he asked warily.

Her eyes were still closed, but he felt her smile against his chest. “That was very nice.”

Nice!?
As a lover he was “nice”?

Actually he supposed he was lucky she thought that highly of him. He certainly hadn't taken much trouble seeing that her needs were met.

“It will be better,” he muttered.

“No.” She shook her head slightly. “Couldn't be.” She kissed him.

And then she slept.

 

Dominic didn't sleep.

He lay there and stared at the ceiling, trying to sort things out.

This was the later during which he was supposed to be fixing dinner and going over the papers he needed to look at before morning. But Sierra was asleep in his arms and he didn't want to disturb her.

That was why he didn't move. It had nothing to do with how much he liked just lying there holding her. It had nothing to do with how much he wanted Sierra still.

He didn't like that he wanted Sierra.

Sex was one thing. But just lying here holding her was something else. That felt…committed.

Dominic wasn't about to get committed.

Not in his heart.

He'd be faithful. It was just good sense to be faithful. It was fair. Dominic believed in being fair. He had no intention of looking at any other women. He had no desire at all to sleep around. Even if he should ever feel such a desire he wouldn't do it. Because he'd made a vow.

He believed in vows.

What he didn't believe in was letting anyone into his heart.

He wasn't letting Sierra into his heart.

Even thinking about such a thing annoyed him. He wasn't used to even considering the possibility. He wasn't used to wanting one this much. And he wasn't used to having mixed emotions about it.

He wasn't really used to emotions at all.

After the disaster with Carin, he'd built a good strong wall between himself and the women in his life. He played with them, but he never let them matter. He never fell in love.

And he still hadn't, he assured himself.

Of course he hadn't. Imagine being in love with a purple-haired cosmetologist!

Sierra was his wife, yes. But that was for expediency's sake. He'd wanted to spike his father's guns once and for all, and she had been the perfect woman to do it with.

She was wild, crazy, exactly wrong for him.

And they had great sex.

What could be better?

Outside the sound of sirens headed up Madison Avenue. Sierra snuggled closer and instinctively Dominic's arm tightened around her. Then deliberately, determinedly, he loosened it. She didn't need his protection. Hell, half the time he needed protecting from her!

The sirens receded and, in the silence, he could hear the soft sound of Sierra's breathing. It ruffled the hairs on his chest. Her soft hair brushed his chin and tickled his lips. He held himself still, resisting the impulse to kiss the top of her head.

They were still having great sex, he reminded himself. Tonight they'd had great sex. He wrapped a strand of purple hair around his fingers. It had been fun. Exhilarating. And he didn't even have to grab a taxi and go home afterward.

It was more efficient.

Yes, Dominic decided, pleased with that notion. It was efficient to have married Sierra. Efficient. That's what it was.

 

Sierra awoke slowly, relishing the end of a lovely dream and snuggling in the soft fine cotton of the sheets. She stretched drowsily, opened her eyes and realized where she was.

Immediately she looked around for Dominic. He wasn't there. She frowned, then glanced toward the bathroom, expecting to see the door closed and hear the shower running. But the door was open and the bathroom was empty. Bright morning sunlight was peeping through the drapes.

Sierra rolled over—and jerked wide awake. It was seven forty-five!

Her alarm clock hadn't gone off!

She scrambled out of bed. Why hadn't he awakened her? Had she forgotten to set her clock? She grabbed it off the table and checked it. Yes, apparently she had. God!

It was what Dominic did to her. He could make her forget her brain if it were trapped inside her head.

She hurried to the bathroom and flicked on the shower. While she waited for the water to warm up, she brushed her teeth. Once she'd done it, she realized that she hadn't needed to wait. In Dominic's apartment, unlike her old one, hot water was plentiful and immediate. She jumped in and just wished she had time to enjoy it.

Sometime she would, she vowed. Maybe tonight. Maybe tonight she would take a long leisurely shower—and not alone. She soaped her body quickly and imagined slicking that wonderful spicy smelling soap over the lean hard planes of Dominic's body. She imagined making him shudder and moan.

Sierra had a good imagination. Way too good. So she flicked the water to cold, yelped and shivered. Then, ardor quenched, she shut it off and jumped out of the shower.

Later, she promised herself. Tonight.

Quickly she toweled her hair dry, wrapped herself in Dominic's plush robe that hung on the door, then went to fix herself some breakfast. Ordinarily, being late, she might have skipped it. But this morning she was ravenous.

They hadn't eaten last night—not food anyway. They'd been far too intent on each other to venture into the kitchen. So now she made oatmeal, fried bacon, and while it was cooking, ate a slice of cantaloupe. There was coffee still hot in the coffeemaker. She blessed Dominic and gulped a cup. Then she poured herself another and carrying it, hurried back upstairs to dress. She had to be at Finn MacCauley's studio a little before nine and now that she was living uptown, she'd have to allow a little more time.

There was no time to do anything clever with her hair, so
she arranged it in a casual tousled style, then went into the bedroom where her things were and opened the closet.

Her clothes weren't there!

None of them. She whipped open the dresser. At least she still had underwear. She grabbed a bra and a pair of panties, then stared once more at the empty closet.

Had Dominic had them throw everything out?

She knew, though he'd never said anything, that he thought some of her clothing was a little over-the-top. But had he married her and then ditched it all?

Incensed, fuming, Sierra stalked back into his bedroom, yanked open the walk-in closet door, ready to do the same to his Brooks Brothers' pinstripes and his long-sleeved dress shirts—and discovered that all her clothes had been hung in there.

Next to a dozen dark conservative suits and jackets and trousers were her denim miniskirts and Day-Glo tube tops. Next to his long-sleeved button-down shirts were her halter tops and camisoles. And there, at the end of a row on the floor, alongside his wing tips and deck shoes were her strapy sandals and clunky boots.

She laughed—and felt oddly, immeasurably lighter.

At least they weren't only sharing sex, they were sharing a closet, too.

She picked out a top, then changed her mind and plucked one of Dominic's shirts off the hanger instead. She slipped it on and flapped the sleeves, then rolled them up to her elbows. It was far too broad in the shoulders and the shirt-tails hit her just inches above her knees. But buttoned, it covered more of her than Sierra normally covered—even if she left the top two buttons open. Besides, wearing it made her feel closer to Dominic. If she rubbed her cheek against the collar she could smell that same clean laundry starch smell she smelled whenever she pressed her face against his chest.

She was going to share his shirt as well. It made her feel good.

She shimmied into a pair of purple leggings, then stuffed her feet into her boots, and cinched her waist with a hot pink belt. Stepping back, she studied her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of the door.

The new improved Sierra Kelly
Wolfe
stared back at her.

Her lips twitched into a smile, then a full-fledged grin. She felt wonderful. Giving herself a thumbs up and one more saucy grin, Sierra headed off to work.

 

“What do you mean, you got someone else?” She stared at Strong, Finn's office manager, her jaw sagging. It was ten minutes to nine. She'd taken the downtown subway and had run the last three blocks. She wasn't late. But Strong had looked astonished to see her and had said Lisa was coming in. “Why would you get someone else?”

“Because Bruce called and said you were booked out.”

“
What?
Why would he say a thing like that?” Sierra thumped her tackle box down. “Give me the phone.”

Furiously she punched in her agent's number. “Bruce! It's Sierra. What are you doing? Why did you tell Finn I wasn't going to be here?”

“Because you booked out, sweetheart.”

“I did no such thing!”

“Well, not you personally,” Bruce said. “But your husband—”

“What?
Dominic
called you?”

“You betcha, sweetheart. Said you were going on your honeymoon.”

Sierra stood speechless. Finally she managed, “Honeymoon?”

The word stopped her dead. Dominic had called Bruce? Dominic had booked her out? Dominic had said they were going on a honeymoon?

Then why hadn't Dominic told her?

“What
exactly
did my, um, husband say?”

“Just that. He called yesterday morning, looking for you. He seemed to think you had already booked out. But I told him you were working, and he asked how far ahead you were scheduled and then he said to unbook you. You didn't want me to?”

A part of Sierra wanted to tear Bruce's head off. A part of her wanted to tear off Dominic's.

How dare he just call up and cancel her jobs?

But another part of her—the closet romantic part—couldn't quite bring herself to do it. Because he was taking her on a honeymoon.

They would have more than sex and a closet and a shirt shared between them. They would have a real start to their marriage. Time for each other.

For sex, of course.

But for more than that. For getting to know each other. For learning to love each other.

“Oh,” she said and sucked in a deep breath, then let it out a little shakily. “No. That's all right. You did…fine. Thanks.”

“So you're out, right?” Bruce said, apparently wanting it from the horse's mouth this time.

“I'm out.”

“'Till when?”

“I'll let you know,” she promised, starting to smile, happiness welling up inside her.

As soon as she'd discussed it with Dominic.

S
HE
went back to the apartment and called Pam. “You and Frankie have to come visit.”

“Sierra?” Pam squeaked. “Oh, I'm so glad to hear from you. I was so worried when those movers came. It was so sudden. Of course I should have realized you'd move. I just didn't think—”

“Neither did I,” Sierra said cheerfully. “But that's Dominic. He snaps his fingers, the world moves. Or at least I did. You won't believe this place. You've got to see it. Frankie has to see it. Get a cab and come up.” She rattled off the address.

“Oh, we can't intrude!” Pammie objected.

“You're not intruding. You're sharing the experience. Besides, you didn't think that moving uptown would get me out of your life, did you? Come on. Grab a taxi and come. I'll pay for it. We'll have a picnic.”

“Frankie can't—”

“Inside,” Sierra assured her. “Frankie will love it. Trust me.”

“But—”

“Pammie,” Sierra said sternly. “Don't abandon me.” It was underhanded and she knew it, playing on Pam's beholdenness. But it worked.

Pam gave in. “We'll take the bus.”

Sierra would have disputed that, but she knew her friend already considered herself beholden for half a million dollars. Pammie would be determined not to add cab fare on top of it.

“I'll see you in an hour,” Sierra said.

Dominic's kitchen was as well-stocked as the average res
taurant. Sierra had seen that when she was fixing herself breakfast. But she doubted Frankie would care, so she made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, cut oranges in half, found a bag of “homemade” chocolate-chip cookies in the cupboard, and set everything out on her old madras bedspread in front of the windows in the living room.

“Wow!” Frankie crowed when they arrived. “We are havin' a picnic! See, Mom?” His normally pale cheeks flushed with enthusiasm as he looked around the apartment, then beamed at his mother. His eyes were alight with excitement. “This is great. It's like my tree house,” he approved. “Way cool.”

“Way cool,” Pammie agreed and, looking around, too, actually laughed in delight. “This is amazing.”

“Isn't it?” Sierra said. “Come on. Let's eat.”

After they finished, she showed them the rest of the apartment. Frankie loved the staircase. He examined it carefully, as if committing it to memory so he could reproduce it on his own designs once he got home. He liked the view and craned his neck to see how far up and down the park he could see. But most of his enthusiasm he saved for “the gear room” and the den next to it. He handled the roller blades and the ice skates and the baseball bats and pounded his fist into Dominic's fielder's glove.

“Next year I'm gonna play baseball,” he told his mother and Sierra.

“Yes,” Pammie agreed.

“And I'm gonna ice skate this winter.”

“Well…”

“I am,” Frankie said fervently. “When I get my new kidney. I'm gettin' one,” he told Sierra. “My doc said.”

“Did he?”

Frankie nodded solemnly. “He said I'll be better'n new then. Didn't he?” He looked to his mother for confirmation.

Pam nodded. “Yes.” She smiled at Sierra. “That's what he said.”

Sierra wanted to hear more of what the doctor said, but she didn't think Frankie needed to be part of the whole discussion, so she poked through Dominic's collection of videotapes.

“Raiders of the Lost Ark?”
She plucked one out, knowing it was one of Frankie's favorites. “Want to watch it on the big screen?” She nodded toward the TV.

Frankie looked at his mother beseechingly. “Can I, Mom?”

“I don't know if we can stay that long,” Pam said.

“Let him start,” Sierra said. “You can always come back and finish another time.”

They left Frankie settled in watching Indiana Jones being chased by headhunters, and she and Pammie went back to the kitchen. Sierra poured them each a cup of tea.

“Tell me what the doctors said?”

“They said he'll be better than new.” Pam smiled as she echoed what Frankie had said moments before. “Truly, Sierra. They said if they get a match, he's a great candidate. And because of you, he's on the list. They are going to be doing tissue samples so they will know when a match exists. They're testing me, of course, and my sister. And they'll test Frankie's father if we find him. Not that I think we're likely to. Or,” she added grimly, “that Dan would give one up if he knew.”

“Of course he would,” Sierra said. “Frankie's his son!”

“As if that ever meant a thing to him.” Pam gave herself a little shake. “It doesn't matter. What matters is that out there somewhere there's going to be a kidney. I'm sure of it. And Frankie will be well again.” She clasped her fingers together and looked heavenward. “Please, God.” Then she looked at Sierra, her expression concerned. “Are you really okay here? I mean, it's gorgeous and all that. Almost homey, even. But that's just the trappings. Is he…is he
good
to you? I couldn't stand it if he wasn't good to you.”

Sierra took Pam's hands in hers, smiling. “Stop worrying. He's good to me.”

“But can you make it work?” Pammie wanted to know. “Really? I know that you probably have—” she blushed “—great sex. But what about…about everything else? Dan and I had great sex,” she said grimly.

“No. It's more than that,” Sierra assured her. “It started that way,” she admitted. “And it's crazy, the two of us are so different. But…we're going on a honeymoon.”

Pam's eyes lit up and she squeezed Sierra's hands. “You are?” she said eagerly. “When? Where?”

“I don't know yet. He hasn't said. But…he booked me out. That's why I was off today.”

Pam's eyes widened. “He called Bruce and didn't even tell you?”

Sierra shook her head. “It's like him. To do something like that spontaneously. In that way, I guess, we are alike.” She grinned. “He'll tell me tonight. He'll have to. Because he didn't tell me this morning and I'm going to have to know. After all I went to work and found out I'd been replaced.”

“Whoa! Really?” Pam looked worried.

“Don't,” Sierra said, before Pam's natural instinct to think the worst could kick in. “You don't know Wolfe. That's the way he is. Peremptory. Cocky. Determined.”

“Nothing like you.” Pam grinned.

Sierra laughed. “It's why we strike sparks off each other, that's for sure. He'll tell me tonight.” She hugged her arms across her breasts happily.

And then Pam smiled, too. “I'm glad,” she said and gave Sierra a quick hug. “You deserve to be happy, Sierra. Nobody deserves it more.”

 

Dominic had thought yesterday was bad.

Today was a whole lot worse.

Yesterday he hadn't been able to get Sierra out of his
mind, but at least she'd been at work where he knew he couldn't just walk in and grab her and haul her home to bed.

Today he knew she was home.

All day long. Or she would be once she got to Finn's and realized she'd been taken off the books.

He probably should have told her last night, but he hadn't remembered. He'd been much to intent on the Sierra right in front of him to think about tomorrow.

Then this morning, when he'd been tempted to wake her and indulge in making love to her one more time, he hadn't because he knew making love with Sierra would not be quick. Once they got started, they would take their time. They would love each other deeply and intensely and furiously.

And that would be fine for her because she could stay there all day. But he had a meeting about the Harker take-over at eight.

So he'd left her asleep while he'd hauled himself out of bed.

Sierra hadn't stirred. And when he came back after his shower, she'd still been sound asleep. Of course they'd barely slept all night, so she had a right to be tired. And she looked so sweet and peaceful and content that he couldn't bear to wake her up just to tell her she could go back to sleep again.

So he'd reached over and shut off her alarm. There was no sense in her waking up and going in to work when she didn't have to. She would doubtless call Finn's when she woke up, and they could tell her they'd got someone else.

She might be annoyed at finding out that way, but Dominic was confident she'd see the sense in it when he explained.

He shot back his cuff and glanced at his watch. It was now three minutes later than the last time he'd looked at it.

He wanted to go home to Sierra. It was ten minutes after
six. He could certainly leave now. Shyla had left twenty minutes ago. Most everyone else had gone before that.

“You aren't going to keep the bride waiting, are you?” Shyla had said when she'd stuck her head in to say good-night.

Dominic had looked up from the papers he had spread all over his desk. “Not for long,” he'd assured her.

But he would have stayed to work if she hadn't been home waiting. And he wasn't going to disrupt his whole life for her. It would be letting her matter far too much, implying that he cared more than he did.

He had no intention of doing that.

“I'll head home shortly,” he said. “There are things that I want to finish up first.” He wasn't admitting he'd been aching to leave since lunchtime—or before.

So he made himself focus on the papers on his desk. He read all the specs on the Harker deal, and then he read them over again. He had a fine steel-trap mind and a reputation for attention to meticulous detail. He never went into a business deal unless he understood exactly what he was getting into. He wasn't afraid to take risks, but they were calculated to the nth degree.

Usually such detail consumed him. The more he learned, the more he wanted to learn.

Not tonight.

Tonight his mind kept wandering to Sierra. What had she done all day? Was she eager for him to come home? As eager as he was to be there?

Damn it!

He shoved her out of his head and made himself read the pages aloud. Made himself dwell on every single word. And every few minutes he checked his watch.

Finally at quarter to seven he decided he'd exercised his willpower long enough.

Neatly he put all the papers back into the folder. Then, lining it up with the edge he set it on the corner of his desk.
He checked his e-mail one last time, recorded his thoughts for Kent in case his assistant checked his mail tonight. Then, satisfied that he was once more in control of his life—and his libido—he locked up and made his way home.

 

She didn't fix peanut butter and jelly for Dominic.

Sierra wasn't a terrific cook, but under the circumstances, she wanted to do her best. So she called her sister Mariah and asked for help.

“What sort of help?” Mariah said warily. Sierra knew her sister loved her dearly, but they were not always on the same wavelength. And considering what she hadn't told Mariah, this was going to be a little tricky.

“I need a recipe or two,” she said airily.

“Recipes? What kind? I thought you believed in takeout. Wasn't that your idea of the world's best cookbook? The one filled with phone numbers of take-away joints?”

“Most of the time it is,” Sierra admitted. “But I want to do something a little special tonight.”

“Who is he?”

Trust Mariah to get right to the point. And trust Mariah not to have heard. How could a woman who made her living interviewing people and doing stunningly perceptive personality pieces miss seeing who made her own sister's heart pound?

Of course that meant that Sierra had camouflaged her feelings incredibly well. She certainly hadn't wanted anyone to know she had a thing for Dominic Wolfe. Unrequited passion wasn't something she had any desire to admit to.

Now she was wishing she'd been a little more transparent.

“It's Dominic,” she said.

“Dominic who?” Mariah asked.

Jeez. “Dominic! Your brother-in-law.”

“
What!
No! You're joking! Sierra, that's not even funny. You and Dominic? God, Rhys would bust a gut laughing. Who is it really? I mean, I'm glad you've finally found
someone who can keep you interested for more than a week and a half. But…” Her sister's voice trailed off when Sierra didn't say anything.

The silence grew. And grew. And grew.

“You aren't joking.” The words fell like stones into still water. Mariah sighed heavily. “Oh, for God's sake, Sierra. He's handsome and clever and smarter than Einstein. But he's made of granite. He's all business—24/7. He probably sleeps in his suit and tie.”

“He doesn't.”

“He never— What did you say?”

“I said, he doesn't sleep in his suit. The tie is—” Sierra giggled “—optional.”

“Oh. My. God.” There was a long silence. “Can I just tell you to cut your losses?” Mariah said. “Can I tell you to get out while the getting is good, before you get serious? Because, believe me, sweetie, Dominic is not going to get serious. He's not going to get involved. He's a 100% confirmed bachelor.”

“He married me on Tuesday.”

She knew she shouldn't just blurt it out like that. She knew she should pussyfoot around, come at it obliquely, maybe try to soften the news a little, prepare her sister. She knew Mariah wasn't keen on surprises.

But it was four o'clock. Dominic would be home in less than two hours. And she wanted to make him dinner—a nice dinner—to celebrate their marriage—and the surprise honeymoon.

She didn't have a lot of time.

“I'm sorry. I must have heard you wrong. I thought you said he
married
you?” Mariah sounded oddly breathless.

“You heard right. We got married. On Tuesday afternoon,” Sierra thought that grounding it down to a day might help.