Читать книгу Callan's Proposition - Barbara McCauley - Страница 9

They stood beside each other, the quintessential Mutt and Jeff, and smiled down at her. Ruby was the taller of the two, with curly, tomato-red hair she always wore swept up, robust blue eyes and a thunderous voice that could set off a car alarm. Emerald was a pageboy platinum-blonde with big green eyes that always looked surprised and a generous smile that stretched wide across her pale, yet remarkably young-looking face. They were both dressed in a kaleidoscope of bright flowing gauze and dozens of matching plastic bracelets.

Eyes now wide open, Abigail stared at her aunts, then lifted her head and looked at the man whose arms were wrapped around her. Her heart slammed in her chest. She vaguely remembered sitting on the sofa with him last night, but she had no idea how she’d ended up here in his arms. In his arms, for Heaven’s sake! Thank God he was still sleeping, she thought, and carefully tried to slip under his embrace. He mumbled softly and tightened his hold.

She bit back the groan hovering in her throat and gave her aunts a weak smile. They smiled back brightly.

With her dignity long past the point of resurrection, Abigail wiggled gently and eased herself, inch by inch, out from under her boss’s—ex-boss’s, she reminded herself—arms. She’d nearly escaped when he gave a soft snort, then opened his eyes. He stared at her in surprise, then glanced at Ruby and Emerald.

“Good morning,” her aunts boomed in unison.

With a look of panic, he catapulted from the couch. Caught off balance, Abigail tumbled to the floor.

“Oh, dear.” Emerald pressed a hand to her chest.

“Heavens.” Ruby frowned.

Callan dragged a hand through his rumpled hair, then his gaze shifted from the two startled women back down to Abigail.

“Sorry,” he said awkwardly, offering Abigail a hand. Her blouse fell open as he pulled her to her feet. He paled, then turned red. He’s blushing, Abigail thought in amazement and quickly pulled her blouse closed. Mr. Sinclair was actually embarrassed.

And as she remembered why her blouse was open, she felt her own cheeks burn. Ohmigod, she thought with a silent groan. The memory of her near strip-tease sucked the breath from her lungs. Quickly she buttoned her blouse, desperately wishing that the sofa would open up and swallow her whole.

But she would deal with what happened last night later. First she had her aunts to contend with.

“Aunt Emerald, Aunt Ruby.” Abigail’s voice cracked. She straightened the front of her misbuttoned blouse, then cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?”

“We told you we were coming, dear,” Ruby said, though her gaze was still locked on Callan. “Have you forgotten?”

Abigail glanced at her wristwatch. “It’s only seven-thirty in the morning. I was supposed to pick you up at the airport this afternoon at one-thirty. Flight 312, Gate 22.”

“Oh, that.” Emerald waved a hand of dismissal. “We took an earlier flight. Ruby was supposed to tell you.”

“I was not.” Bracelets clacked loudly as Ruby jammed her hands on her well-endowed hips and frowned at her sister. “You were supposed to. I called for the taxi.”

“You’re arguing again, Ruby.” Forever smiling, Emerald faced her sister and waved a finger at her, which also set her own bracelets clacking.

Great, Abigail thought. Just what I need right now—dueling bracelets.

“It doesn’t matter,” Abigail interjected before the discussion could escalate. And knowing her aunts, it most certainly would. Awkwardly she leaned forward and hugged each of them. “It’s…it’s wonderful to see you.”

In spite of the situation, Abigail was surprised that she actually meant it. Her aunts might be eccentric and flamboyant, but she loved them both. They cooed over her, smoothed her hair and kissed her cheek, then glanced at the man whose arms she’d been in less than five minutes ago.

Abigail drew in a deep breath, then said in a rush, “Aunt Emerald, Aunt Ruby, this is Mr. Sinclair.”

Two sets of confused eyes looked back at her. “Mr. Sinclair?”

“My employer.” As delicately as possible she blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “I believe I told you about him.”

“You call your fiancé Mr. Sinclair?” Ruby asked.

She bit the inside of her lip. Time to face the piper.

She sucked in another deep breath. “He’s not—”

“—Mr. Sinclair to you lovely ladies, of course,” he said smoothly. “It’s Callan.”

Breath held, Abigail watched as he moved beside her and casually slipped an arm around her shoulders. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and gave her a pinch. “Sometimes Abby can be such a tease.”

Shocked, Abigail stared up at “Callan.” He’d called her “Abby” and said she was a “tease?” She had to be having a hallucination. Some bizarre aftermath of too much alcohol. But when he squeezed her shoulder, he certainly didn’t feel like a hallucination. He felt strong and solid.

“Abby’s told me so much about you both,” he went on. “I realize how strange this must look, finding us like this, but the truth is, we were up so late last night talking about your visit, we fell asleep right here. Isn’t that right, Abby?”

Well, technically his explanation was correct, Abigail supposed, and looked back at her aunts. They beamed with pleasure.

She smiled weakly at them and shifted from one bare foot to the other. Obviously, part of taking off her clothes had included her shoes. “Well, actually, Aunties, the truth is—”

“The truth is,” Callan said, interrupting again, then paused and leaned toward her aunts as he whispered, “Abby had a little too much to drink last night. She never could hold her alcohol very well, you know.”

Emerald and Ruby glanced at each other and nodded compassionately, then Ruby said, “It’s a recessive gene in her father’s side of the family, I’m afraid. The Bliss side of the family is quite tolerant of the spirits, though we only partake on special occasions, of course, and even then with the utmost discretion.”

Abigail choked back a laugh. Discretion was hardly a word that was used synonymously with the Bliss name, and as far as special occasions, the sun rising and setting every day would most likely be considered special to her aunts. But it certainly was true that they were able to consume endless amounts of liquor without any of the side effects that plagued most people, including herself.

Especially herself, Abigail thought as the memory of the previous night began to emerge all too vividly in her mind.

She’d shown him her breasts, for Heaven’s sake. What he must think of her, exposing herself like that to him. How could she ever face him again?

She couldn’t.

She just couldn’t.

But at the moment, however, it seemed as though she had no choice. He still had his arm looped possessively around her shoulder and held her snugly against his broad chest. The heat of his body shimmered through his shirt and radiated through her body all the way down to her bare toes.

“Well?” Ruby’s gaze dropped to her hand, and Emerald leaned forward expectantly. “Let’s see it, dear.”

“See it?” Abby had no idea what her aunts were talking about. “See what?”

“Why, your ring, of course,” Emerald said. “We’ve been so excited ever since we heard the good news.”

“Oh, Aunties, I’m so sorry, but—”

“—we just haven’t found the right one yet,” Callan finished for her. He gave her shoulder a big squeeze. “Something that important has to be perfect, don’t you think?”

Startled, Abby stared up at Callan. What in the world was he talking about?

“Absolutely.” Emerald gave an approving nod. “Mustn’t rush things like that and be sorry for it later.”

Ruby’s expression was thoughtful. “Well, you know, Em, your second marriage with Artemus was rather hasty, may he rest in peace, but you have a lovely two-karat solitaire to remember him by.”

“Not nearly as lovely as that three-karat cluster your third husband gave you,” Emerald replied. “That puppy was the size of a Volkswagen, bless the man’s heart.”

They smiled in fond remembrance, sighed, then quickly turned their attention back to Abby and Callan.

“We’ve love to stay and chat, dear,” Emerald said, and gave her niece a pat on the cheek, “but the taxi is waiting. We’ll call you when we get settled in town.”

“You aren’t staying with me?” Abigail asked incredulously.

“Of course not.” Ruby batted her eyes at Callan. “We wouldn’t dream of imposing.”

Since when? Abigail wondered. Her aunts loved to impose. And the one time she wanted them to, they weren’t? “But—”

“Don’t you worry about us, darling.” Emerald slipped her arm through Ruby’s. “We have rooms at a quaint little place in town. Squire’s Tavern and Inn. The travel agent said that the accommodations and food there are five-star.”

Abigail wasn’t sure about the accommodations or food, but she could personally vouch that the drinks there were at least five-star. She was currently seeing dozens of stars from the drink she’d had there last night.

She groaned silently, remembering that Reese Sinclair owned the inn. It would only be a matter of time before her aunts learned the truth, and Abigail Thomas would be the laughingstock of Bloomfield County. I’ll change my name. Move to a small mountain town. Dye my hair and have plastic surgery.

Gauze flowing, her aunts were halfway to the door when Ruby called over her shoulder, “We insist you both join us at the tavern for lunch. One o’clock sharp, dears. Emmy and I can’t wait to hear all the details of how you two got together.”

“Aunties, wait.” Abigail slipped out from under the arm Mr. Sinclair had draped around her shoulders and started after her aunts, but he caught hold of her hand and held her beside him.

“We’ll be there,” he said cheerfully and waved.

Bracelets clacking, Emerald and Ruby waved back, then exited the room with all the grace and grandeur of royalty.

Abigail closed her eyes, praying this was all a nightmare that she could now awaken from, and her boring little life could go right back to boring. She slowly opened her eyes.

Mr. Sinclair’s face was no more than a foot from hers, and the hint of a smile touched his lips. She sucked in a breath as she stared at that mouth. It was much too close to her own.

“There,” he said casually. “That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?”

“Wasn’t so bad?” Moaning, she pulled her hand away from his and sank down on the couch. “I didn’t tell them the truth about us, and now we’re supposed to meet them for lunch? In a public place? That happens to be my definition of bad, Mr. Sinclair. Very bad.”

She fell sideways and covered her head with a floral, fringed throw pillow.

“Abby, first of all, if we’re going to pull this off, you’re going to have to stop calling me Mr. Sinclair. And you’re certainly going to have to loosen up a little. You stiffen up like a board every time I get close to you.”

“Pull what off?” she said into the pillow. “And what do you mean, I stiffen up? I do not.”

“Yes, you do,” he replied. “Now sit up.” She shook her head, then felt the couch dip as he sat beside her. Well, maybe she did stiffen up just a little, she thought, and buried her head deeper under the pillow. “Please go away.”

“I’m not going away.” His finger brushed her cheek when he parted the fringe covering her face. “I’m going to sit right here until you talk to me.”

“I can’t.” She tried to ignore the feel of his callused finger on her cheek and the shiver working its way up her spine. “After what I did last night, I can’t ever talk to, or even look at you, again. In fact, I’m moving to Alaska.”

He chuckled. “And what exactly is it that you think you did?”

Still refusing to look at him, she held up her hand and extended her index finger. “One, I told my aunts that you were my fiancé. Two—” her second finger came up “—I got drunk. Three, I…I—”

She groaned into the pillow. Oh, God. She couldn’t even say she’d nearly stripped for him, let alone believe she’d actually done it.

“Abby.” He said her name softly, then took hold of her shoulders and pulled her upright. When she kept the pillow pressed to her face, he tugged it away from her. “It’s okay to let loose once in a while. You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed about.”

“Easy for you to say.” She still refused to look at him. “You weren’t the one who made an idiot out of yourself.”

Her pulse jumped when he put a finger under her chin and tilted her face up. A midnight shadow of beard covered the lower portion of his face, and one thick shock of dark hair fell over his forehead. The rough texture of his finger under her chin sent an army of tiny shivers marching through her.

“You didn’t make an idiot out of yourself,” he said gently. “Actually you were kind of cute.”

“Cute?” She blinked at him. “Mr. Sinclair, please don’t patronize or lie to me.”

He shook his head. “I’m not lying or patronizing. Now say my name.”

“Mr. Sinclair?”

“Callan, or Cal, if you prefer.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “You want your aunts to go on their trip and not move in with you, right?”

“Well, yes, I—”

“Then I’m your man.”

“What?”

“You told me that your aunts think you need a man, right?”

She felt her cheeks burn. “Well, I suppose I may have said—”

“So for the two weeks your aunts are here, I’m your man, Abby.”

“You’re my man?” she whispered.

He nodded. “For two whole weeks, I’m all yours.”

Abigail suddenly found it hard to breathe, let alone speak. Her mind felt sluggish and heavy, but she knew it had nothing to do with the alcohol she’d consumed last night and everything to do with the touch of Callan’s finger on her chin and the way he’d said, “I’m all yours.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“I want you back, Abigail,” he said firmly. “And if that means pretending to be your fiancé for a few days, then fine. We’ll make your aunts happy, and after they leave, everything will go back to normal.”

Normal? He actually thought that they could pretend to be engaged, and after her aunts left, they could go back to normal? She didn’t believe that for a moment. This was a very dangerous proposition he was making her. She’d be a fool to accept. A complete and utter fool.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t.

Could she? “My aunts will never believe it,” she said, though her voice sounded as if it belonged to someone else.

“Well, we’ll just have to be convincing, then, won’t we?” he murmured. “Now say my name.”

She swallowed hard, then squeaked, “Callan.”

He rolled his eyes. “You sound like Minnie Mouse. Try it again.”

She looked at his mouth again, felt her own lips tingle. “Callan,” she breathed.

His gaze dropped to her mouth, and before he released her, she could swear his thumb brushed over her jaw. Still staring at her mouth, he cleared his throat. “Well, there. Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

No, she thought with a sense of dread. It wasn’t hard at all. In fact, it was much too easy.

He rose suddenly, still looking at her as he tripped over the leg of her coffee table. “You don’t need to come in to the office this morning. I’ll, ah, meet you at the tavern at one o’clock.”

“But—”

“One o’clock,” he backed toward the front door, then closed it behind him on his way out.

This was a bad idea, she thought and stared at the door. Bad, bad idea. They would never get away with it.

Closing her eyes, she realized that she hadn’t even warned him about her aunts and their…unpredictable behavior. Unless Emerald and Ruby were unusually subdued, which Abby seriously doubted, Callan Sinclair was in for a lunch he’d never forget.

With a gasp she opened her eyes abruptly.

Oh, no.

There was one other little minor detail she’d forgotten to mention. Only it wasn’t exactly minor, and it certainly wasn’t little.

Groaning, she slumped back on the couch and realized the full meaning of jumping from the frying pan into the fire.

“You want me to pretend you’re what?” Standing behind the bar, Reese Sinclair looked up sharply from the beer mug he was busy filling. “To who?”

“Keep it down, will you?” Callan frowned at his brother, then quickly glanced over his shoulder at Abby and her aunts sitting at a table in the middle of the tavern. The lunch crowd was heavy today, and neither Abby nor her aunts had spotted him yet. “Engaged. I want you to pretend I’m engaged. To Abby.”

Beer poured over the sides of the frosty mug in Reese’s hand. He swore, then reached for a towel. “You’re kidding, right? You and…Abby? Since when do you call Abigail Abby?”

He’d decided that if they were going to be “engaged” he should think of her as Abby. “Since this morning.”

“This morning?” Reese raised both brows. “You mean morning, as in, woke up next to her?”

“Something like that.” He’d actually woken up under her, he recalled and remembered the feel of her soft, slender body on top of his. Strange, but he could still feel the warmth of her skin on his chest and the brush of her silky hair against his face.

Reese slung the towel over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes. “She was a little tipsy when she left here with you last night. If you’re trying to string her along to ease a guilty conscience, I’m not having any part of it.”

“Reese, for God’s sake, will you—”

“Abigail’s a nice girl,” Reese went on. “A little dull, maybe, but sweet. I wouldn’t like to think that my own brother took advantage of a kid like that.”

Kid? Abby was no kid, Cal thought, remembering the womanly curves she’d been so insistent on showing him last night. And under different circumstances, with any other woman, he would have been more than eager to see that incredible body. But this was Abby, for God’s sake. He couldn’t think that way about Abby.

“She’s twenty-six, for your information,” Cal said irritably. “And no, I didn’t take advantage of her, you moron. We fell asleep on the couch, with our clothes on, that’s all.”

Well, maybe there was a little more than that, but whatever happened last night was between him and Abby, Callan thought, then glanced over at the table again. As if she knew he was watching her, she slowly looked up and met his gaze.

He felt an odd catch in his throat as he stared back at her. She wore a high-collared gray sweater, and he realized it was the first time he’d seen her without a business suit—well, other than last night, but she had been wearing her suit then, too, or at least most of it. He looked at the oversize sweater she had on, the big, black-rimmed glasses, the tight knot of blond hair at the base of her neck, and he wondered why all this time she’d been hiding behind a facade of plain, when she really wasn’t plain at all. She was actually kind of pretty. More than kind of, he thought. She had really soft, smooth skin, her eyes were an unusual shade of gray-green, and that body, well, hot damn, that body was—

“Cal, hello, anybody home?” Reese waved a hand in front of his face and pulled him out of his illicit thoughts. “What’s the matter with you?”