The Groom's Stand-In

“No.”

Okay, no more questions that could be answered in monosyllables, she decided. Whether he was just naturally averse to small talk, or was still smarting from Grace’s rudeness, she didn’t know, but they would never get anywhere this way. “How did you and Bryan meet?”

After a rather lengthy pause, he said, “Four guys were doing their best to beat me to a pulp. Bryan jumped in to help me.”

Chloe felt her eyebrows rise as she tried to picture always-immaculate, elegant Bryan Falcon engaged in a vicious fist fight. On the other hand, she had no trouble at all imagining Donovan taking on four challengers. “Did you and Bryan win the fight?”

“Actually, they beat us both to a pulp.”

Chloe was startled into a laugh. “That’s terrible.”

What might have been a smile—it was hard to tell with this man—quirked one corner of his mouth. “We recovered.”

“So you and Bryan have been friends ever since?”

Another long pause—followed by another monosyllable. “Yeah.”

Chloe stifled a sigh and sat back in her seat. Looked as though this was going to be a long, quiet trip. She might as well enjoy the view.

It was with effort that Donovan kept his gaze focused on the road ahead instead of the woman sitting in the passenger seat. Something about her kept drawing his attention her way.

A sideways glance let him see that she was gazing out the side window at the passing landscape, a somber look on her face. Her fingers were twisted in her lap so tightly that her knuckles gleamed. She didn’t give the appearance of a woman on her way to a romantic getaway with the man she was planning to marry. Which made him wonder again why she was going along with this very businesslike courtship.

The most logical answer, of course, was that she had several million reasons—all green.

He was lousy at small talk, but he searched for something to say, a way to get her talking again so he could try to figure her out. “Bryan told me you’re in the retail business.”

She seemed relieved to be drawn out of her thoughts, even with such a lame conversational gambit. “Yes, Grace and I own a shop in Little Rock’s River Market district. We call it Mirror Images—a shameless play on our being twins, I’ll admit. We specialize in decorating accessories—unusual mirrors, mostly, but also pottery and sculpture, candleholders, carved boxes, blown-glass pieces. Many of the items are handmade and one-of-a-kind.”

Hearing the enthusiasm in her voice, he could tell her heart was in her work. Bryan had always said that no business could be successful if the owner had no passion. It was probably Chloe’s enthusiasm for her shop that had drawn Bryan to her in the first place. And maybe her smile…

He cleared his throat rather forcefully. “How’s business? Making a profit?”

Her eyebrows rose. “We’re doing all right,” she said, her tone a bit cool now.

Did she think he’d gotten too nosy? Or did she simply not want to admit that the shop wasn’t making money? He knew how difficult it was for a small business to survive. More than half folded within their first year of operation. It required a good deal of startup capital to acquire stock, hire competent employees, purchase enough advertising to catch the buying public’s attention….

He shrugged. “You’ll do better once Bryan’s involved.”

Everyone knew that Bryan Falcon had an almost magical way of making every business he backed turn a sizeable profit. Donovan was sure Chloe was well aware of her new boyfriend’s business talents—not to mention his notorious talent for charming women.

When she spoke this time, her tone was almost cool enough to deposit ice on his eyelashes. “I don’t expect Bryan to be involved with my business in any way. My sister and I are perfectly capable of running it on our own.”

“I see,” he said—which didn’t mean he believed her, of course. There was no way he’d accept that the financial advantages of marriage to one of the most successful venture capitalists in the country had never crossed her mind.

She frowned at him. “You think I’m only interested in Bryan’s money?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No—you didn’t say it.” But apparently, she’d interpreted his words that way anyway. She sat back in her seat, her face turned away from him, her posture stiff enough to let him know she’d taken offense.

He thought about trying to apologize, but decided to let it go. For one thing, he was lousy at apologies—hadn’t made enough of them to get good at it. For another—well, hell, of course he figured she was interested in Bryan’s money. He’d met few women—or men, for that matter—who weren’t. And since her own sister had made it clear she didn’t consider this a love match, then Chloe had to have more prosaic reasons for considering marriage to Bryan.

An eminently practical man himself, Donovan supposed he couldn’t blame Chloe for keeping her eyes on the bottom line, but he still didn’t approve of this whole arrangement. Bryan deserved better than to be married for his money.

Donovan believed his friend was overreacting to his last failed romantic relationship. Bryan had been burned by a woman who had convinced him that she wanted him for himself, not his money. The truth of that ruse had been revealed when she’d gone ballistic at the first mention of the rather strict prenuptial agreement that Bryan’s team of attorneys had drafted years earlier. She hadn’t been a good enough actress to convince anyone that the extent of her outrage couldn’t be measured in dollar signs.

Because it hadn’t been the first time Bryan had been deceived, he had come to the conclusion that the only way he could be certain of a potential mate’s motives was to have everything spelled out from the beginning. He wanted children, and he wanted to raise them in a conventional two-parent family. He’d decided he should approach marriage the same way he started a new business—with legal contracts, long-term planning, calculated risks and clearly defined benefits.

Donovan had tried to point out that one didn’t choose a wife the same way one hired a financial officer, but Bryan had shrugged off the admonition. To him, it had seemed like a perfectly logical plan.

He’d told Donovan about the day in February when he had wandered into Chloe’s shop while on a break from a day-long meeting being held nearby. They’d started talking, then had somehow ended up having coffee together at the popular River Market pavilion. Bryan claimed to have known very quickly that Chloe was exactly the sort of woman he’d been searching for since he’d made the decision a few months earlier to enter into a practical marriage.

Donovan had never been accused of being even remotely romantic, but Bryan’s plan seemed too cold and calculated even for him. He couldn’t help wondering if someday Bryan was going to feel that he’d settled for less than he could have had, if he would always be aware that something important was missing.

Since he himself had no strong desire to reproduce, Donovan figured his way was easier—he didn’t plan to marry anyone. Any relationships he entered into were strictly short-term and no-strings, so motives didn’t really matter.

He was convinced that his strategy was the most practical of all.

They’d been on the road for almost an hour when Donovan realized that Chloe’s posture was still unnaturally rigid. Her hands were still laced tightly together, her short pink nails digging into skin.

“Are you okay?” he couldn’t resist asking. “My driving isn’t making you nervous or anything, is it?”

His question brought her head around. “Of course not. You seem to be an excellent driver. I’m not nervous about anything at all.”

Definitely a lie, he decided, glancing again at her telltale hands. “You just seemed a little tense.”

“I’m fine.” She looked straight ahead again as she spoke. “What is it you do in Bryan’s organization, exactly?”

He shrugged. “Whatever he needs me to do.”

“Such as escorting me today?”

Since the answer to that seemed obvious, he allowed it to pass.

“You’ve been out of the country for the past few months,” she tried again. “In…Italy?”

“Venice. I was there for almost three months.”

“That must have been very nice.”

“It was business.”

She twisted in her seat, tugging at the seat belt to allow her to look at him more closely. “Surely you took some time off for sightseeing.”

“Not much,” he admitted. “I was only supposed to be over there a couple of weeks. Problems kept cropping up to detain me. I was just trying to get everything settled so I could get back to the States.”

“You must have missed your family.”