He had dropped his hands on her shoulders and was pulling her closer. “Someone’s coming,” he murmured. “Don’t want to be caught squabbling, do we?”
“I really don’t—”
She stopped in resignation when he kissed her. No one could accuse Bryan of not fully playing his role. In fact, he kissed her with much more enthusiasm than was necessary to fool an incidental bystander. His mouth moved firmly on hers, warm and insistent, giving her little chance to resist. Or even to respond.
There was a new element to this kiss, she noted even as her mind began to cloud with that now-familiar haze. Not quite anger—but a new assertiveness that was very likely a response to her efforts to take control of their temporary relationship.
As she had feared, Bryan wasn’t going to be cooperative. She shouldn’t have been surprised, she supposed. He’d been a challenge to her since she’d first met him.
He lifted his head, took a quick breath, then kissed her again before she could step away. She couldn’t help responding this time, if only a little. Only for the sake of whoever was watching, she assured herself as her eyelids drifted downward. She would not be the one to ruin everything they had accomplished during the past weeks.
The undercurrents of irritation were gone now. Bryan’s lips moved more gently on hers, more persuasively. Clinging to the lapels of his jacket, she tilted her head a bit more to one side, changing the angle of the embrace. Much better, she decided.
She didn’t know quite how much time passed before Bryan finally drew back. She was chagrined to realize that he was the one who ended the kiss, without any urging from her. She blinked a couple of times—had the moon suddenly gotten brighter?—then looked around. “I don’t see anyone else here.”
“My mistake,” he murmured and disentangled her hands from his jacket so he could step back.
She scowled at him, wondering if he’d ever really heard anything. Or had he been trying to prove his point that they had already crossed the line between playacting and actuality? “Damn it, Bryan—”
He glanced at the luminous dial of his watch. “We’d better go back inside for the speeches. We’ll finish our talk later.”
As far as Grace was concerned, their talk was over. She hoped he’d gotten her message—but she had a feeling it had fallen on deliberately deaf ears.
It wasn’t possible for Grace to avoid Bryan for the remainder of the party, of course—not without arousing curiosity in the other guests. She stayed close to his side, smiled at him and chatted with him, doing her best to look like one half of a very happy couple.
Chloe and Donovan were called to the front of the room, where Chloe looked radiant and Donovan uncomfortable as one old friend after another stood to wish the couple well in their marriage. A local videographer taped the entire proceedings as a gift for the couple. Grace held on to her bright smile even when several broad hints about the joys of wedlock were aimed directly at her and Bryan. She really should be nominated for some sort of acting award this evening.
Whenever the strain became too great, she had only to look at Chloe to remind herself why she was doing this. Chloe looked so happy. Even Donovan, beneath his embarrassment, seemed to almost radiate contentment. He didn’t exactly wear his heart on his sleeve, but every time he looked at Chloe, it was obvious to anyone with only a modicum of perception that he was deeply in love with her. He wasn’t acting—Grace had no doubt that Donovan’s feelings for her sister were real and lasting.
She was delighted for her twin. She really was. She believed that fate had brought Chloe and Donovan together, and she hoped they would share a long, happy life. She said something along those lines when she was pressed
into giving her own brief speech for the couple.
Bryan’s words were saved for last. He took the microphone with the ease of someone who was quite comfortable speaking in front of crowds.
“My parents had only one child,” he said, smiling at Donovan, “but fate brought me a brother several years ago. Now my honorary brother is getting married, giving me an honorary sister. I look forward to spoiling several honorary nieces and nephews. There’s an old Irish blessing that seems particularly suitable this evening. Chloe and Donovan, ‘May God go with you and bless you. May you see your children’s children. May you be poor in misfortune and rich in blessings. And may you know nothing but happiness from this day forward.’”
She should definitely receive some sort of award, Grace mused again, her smile stretched across her face as she applauded along with everyone else. If there was a tear in her eye, she knew it would be attributed to sentimental joy for her sister. Which, of course, was the only reason she felt the urge to cry, she assured herself.
What else could it be?
Because Grace had brought her own car, she had the drive home to herself. Bryan insisted on following her since it was rather late when the party ended. She was aware of his headlights in the rearview mirror all the way, but at least she didn’t have to try to make conversation with him during the ride. She tuned the radio to a classic rock station, turned the volume up, and let the beat of the bass drown out her thoughts.
Bryan parked beside her in the garage. She was already out of her car before he could turn off his engine. “There’s no need to come up,” she told him as he opened his car door. “It’s late, and I’m sure you’re tired after your trip.”
“I thought we were going to talk.”
Clutching her things to her chest, she took a step backward. “Maybe you aren’t tired, but I am. I’ve been running all day and I have to work tomorrow.”
He must have seen the desperation in her face—or heard it, perhaps, in her voice. He didn’t press her this time, merely saying, “All right. Get some rest. We’ll talk later.”
“Right. Later.”
Much later, she told herself as she turned and hurried toward the elevator. Much, much later.
If she was lucky, that was one potentially awkward talk that she would be able to avoid for a long time.
Grace disappeared again Saturday night.