The One-Night Wife

"Our first."

"You're kidding. We've done nothing but quarrel since we met."

"Our first as lovers," he said, pulling under a tall palm tree on the side of the road and shutting off the engine. He undid his seat belt, leaned over and gently undid hers. "Be­cause that's what we are," he said softly. "We're lovers, Savannah."

' 'You know what I meant. I meant if we were^''

Sean gathered Savannah into his arms and kissed her. She tried not to respond but his mouth was sweet and his body was warm, and it took less than a heartbeat for her to sigh and kiss him back.

"We're lovers," he said, stroking the curls back from her cheek and tucking them behind her ear. "Even the Realtor could see that."

"It was a logical conclusion, O'Connell. You introduced me as your fiancee."

"Yeah." Sean took her hand and lifted it to his lips. "Which reminds me...we have to make the trip to Bijou again."

' 'No way. As it is, you bought enough clothes for ten of me!"

He chuckled. "If my sisters heard you say that, they'd hustle you off to a psychiatrist."

"Oh, right. You mentioned them before. Two sisters?"

' 'Three, and every last one of them would—well, maybe that's an overstatement. Two of 'em, for sure, would tell you a beautiful woman can never have too many things in her closet."

That won him a little smile. "Honestly. I don't need any­thing. You bought me so much—"

"A ring."

Her eyes widened. "A what?"

"A ring." Sean kissed her hand again, then gently sucked the tip of her ring finger into his mouth. "Men who are engaged to be married give their fiancees engagement rings."

"Don't be silly. They don't. Not always."

"Always," he said firmly, deliberating ignoring the fact that one of his brothers hadn't married conventionally enough to have time to put a ring on his fiancee's finger. It was a reasonable demand, wasn't it? He had a mother, an entire family, to fool.

A ring. His ring, on her finger. It would only be part of the game, but...

Savannah leaned her forehead against his. "Sean. This— this is getting complicated."

"I'm just trying to make sure we seem believable."

She looked up. ' 'Is that the reason you made love to me last night? So we'd seem—"

His kiss left her dizzy.

"You know it wasn't," he said gruffly. "I made love to you for the same reason you made love to me, because we need to be together as much as we need to breathe."

Need, Savannah thought. He'd said need. As if what they'd shared would go on. As if they had a future that stretched further ahead than two short weeks.

She sighed, closed her eyes and buried her face against his throat.

"Complicated,"' she whispered, with a little catch in her voice.

This time, he didn't argue. She was right but he didn't want to talk about that now or even think about it. Instead, he held her close, reveled in the feel of her in his arms, and wondered if he'd ever, in all his life, felt so complete.

"Savannah?"

"Hmm?"

"You said I should have asked you what kind of hou§e you preferred. Well, I'm asking."

"I didn't say that. Not exactly. What I said was—"

"There's a place up the road a couple of miles. I saw the

For Sale sign and drove in for a quick look the last time I was here. I haven't seen the inside but from the outside..." He took a bream. Why did he feel so nervous? All he was doing was describing a house. "It's small. Well, compared to the monster we just saw, it is. Three bedrooms, maybe four."

Savannah's smile was as bright as the sky. "Darn," she said softly. "You mean, we wouldn't need six strangers underfoot to keep things going?''

"Just you and me," Sean murmured, stroking the back of his hand down her cheek. "Truth is, the house is beau­tiful. And it's on the beach, comes with maybe five, six acres of land you'd need a machete to get through."

"We'd have privacy."

Sean nodded. "Yes. All we could ask for. There's a pool, a small garden, a conservatory like the one Cullen has at his place on Nantucket."

"Who?"

God, there was so much she didn't know about him, so much he didn't know about her...but there was time to learn. There was plenty of time, and he was looking forward to every second.

' 'One of my brothers. Cull lives in Boston with his wife and baby, but he has a house on the Atlantic and this room I've always liked. Glass walls, a big telescope. He can watch the ocean, see whales and dolphins and—"

He fell silent, suddenly feeling foolish. Maybe Savannah thought whales and dolphins were kid stuff. But she smiled, and the way she smiled set his concerns to rest.

"I love to watch whales and dolphins! Whales, espe­cially. The way they seem to dance in the sea, you know? I never get tired of seeing them, even if Alain always says I'm foolish to—to..."

Her words trailed away. For a moment, Beaumont seemed to be in the car with them, his presence a stain on the bright afternoon. The questions in Sean's head fought to surface, but what mattered right now was the sudden darkness in Savannah's eyes.

He gathered her close and kissed her until the darkness was gone and they were alone again in their make-believe universe.

"Beaumont's out of your life forever, sweetheart," he said. "I promise."

Because she had already learned that Sean would never lie to her, because the sun was shining down from a cloud­less sky, but mostly because she was safe in her lover's arms, Savannah did a foolish thing.

She let herself believe it.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Sean called the Realtor on his cell phone. Yes, she said happily, she knew the property he meant and it was still on the market.

She met them at the foot of a long, winding driveway. A couple of hours later, the deal was done.

The house was his.

Though he already owned other properties, this was the first time he'd bought one to live in, the first time he'd wanted to do that...and, most definitely, the first time he'd wanted to share his space with a woman.

The realization shook him. He reminded himself that this was all simply a logical part of a plan. Still, he felt almost unbearably happy when he saw the excitement and pleasure that glowed in Savannah's eyes as they walked through the house togeth

er the next day.

"It's beautiful," she said.

Beautiful, indeed. Sean couldn't get enough of looking at her.

The house came furnished. A good thing, because they moved in right away. Standing on the porch, Sean wondered what it would be like if this weren't make-believe. If they were really moving in together.

If the diamond ring he'd bought and slipped on her finger, and the matching wedding band he intended to surprise her with once they headed for Vegas, weren't part of a plan but marked a turning point in his life.

The thought shocked him. Horrified him. What kind of craziness was this? He wanted this woman, yes, but he'd wanted other women. This relationship only seemed special because of the circumstances.

That was all it was, he told himself, and he swung Sa­vannah into his arms and headed for the bedroom. Laughing, she clung to his shoulders.

"What are you doing, O'Connell?"

"It's an old Irish custom," he said with a lightness he didn't feel. "We have to inaugurate the bed for good luck."

Long moments later, they lay spent in each other's arms, Sean staring up at the ceiling and knowing that it was time to stop lying to himself.

What he felt for Savannah was special. Two truths re­vealed in one day. What in hell was happening to him?

Maybe it was safer not to find out.

The house was perfect, eight big rooms with walls of glass. Anywhere you stood, you could look at the pink sand and deep blue sea, or at the rich tangle of green that shielded the estate from the world.

The shower room in the master bath had glass walls, too." Standing inside it, warm water cascading down your body, you could turn your face up to the hot yellow sun by day, the cold white stars by night.

It was as perfect a place, Sean said huskily, to love each other as the bed.

That first night, standing in the shower, her lover's moon-washed eyes looking into hers, his hands molding her to him as he caressed her breasts, then laved them with his tongue, Savannah trembled.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Sean murmured.

She shook her head. She was happy. So happy that ad­mitting it might be dangerous.

Sean could have told her he understood. He read what she was thinking, what she was feeling, in her eyes and knew those emotions were inside his own heart.