warmed from the sun, all peaches and cream and pressed against him. Taking things far beyond a simple kiss in the judge’s chambers.
Damn. That was not productive. At all. He shook his head, but the images stayed, chased by the memory of kissing her. The scent of her perfume. The feel of her in his arms.
Again, he forced them away and tore his gaze away from Ellie.
He’d come close to that kind of craziness when he’d dated Lucy. Granted, most of their relationship had been practical, staid … predictable. Then he’d had that moment of insanity when he’d rushed out to buy a ring, run over to her office to propose—
And found out she was stealing his clients behind his back.
No more of that. He’d gone off the rails for five minutes, and it nearly destroyed his business and his career. A smart man approached marriage like any other business deal—with clarity, sense and caution.
“Uh, we don’t really have time for that right now,” Finn said, reminding himself that there would be no honey moon. Not now, not later. “Work schedules, meetings, that kind of thing gets in the way of the best laid plans, you know?” He made light of it because for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to tell Riley the whole thing was a temporary state. That most likely by the time their schedules opened up enough that they could plan a joint vacation, they would be filing for divorce.
“You are going to celebrate at least a little, aren’t you? I mean, if any occasion screams having a party, this is it.” Riley paused a second. “Hmm … I wonder if it’s too late to throw you a bachelor party?”
“I don’t need one of those, and yes, it is too late.” Finn shifted the phone in his grasp. “Actually that’s why I called you. I was thinking of taking her out for drinks and dinner. But …”
“You realized that idea sounds about as lame as a picnic in the park?”
“Hey!” Then Finn lowered his voice. “What’s lame about a picnic?”
Riley laughed. “Don’t tell me. That was your second idea.”
Finn didn’t want to admit that it had actually been his first idea, but then he’d thought about bugs and sunshine, and proposed a restaurant instead. Damn. He was a hell of a lot rustier at this dating game than he’d thought. Not that this was a date—at all—just his effort to make this business alliance a little more palatable. “It’s a nice day. We could grab some sandwiches—”
“Last I checked, you don’t get married every day. So don’t do an everyday thing to celebrate it. Here’s what I would do,” Riley said, then detailed a plan for Finn that far surpassed anything Finn had thought of. A few minutes later, Riley said goodbye and Finn ended the call. At the same time, Ellie tucked her phone away and crossed to Finn.
“Sorry about that,” she said. “Duty calls.”
Finn chuckled. “Believe me, I understand. It calls me all the time, day and night.” At the same moment, Finn’s phone began to ring. He fished it out of his pocket, about to answer, when Ellie laid a hand on top of his.
“Don’t.” Her fingers danced lightly across his, an easy, delicate touch, but one that sent a shock wave running down his arm. “Let’s put our phones away. I don’t want to deal with work for now.”
“Me, either.” He pressed the power button, turned the phone off, then slipped it into his jacket pocket. “Besides, I have plans for you, Mrs. McKenna.”
Her eyes widened at the use of her married name. “Plans? What kind of plans?”
“You’ll see,” he said, then said a little prayer that he could execute Riley’s plans as well as his brother would have. Because just for today, Finn wanted to woo the woman who was now his wife.
Tomorrow was soon enough to get back to business—and stay there. For as long as this practical, contracted arrangement lasted.
How he’d done it, Ellie didn’t know. She stared in wonder at the tableau laid out before her. Chubby terra cotta pots held thick, lush flowering shrubs, lit from above by soft torch lights on bronze poles. A pair of squat white wicker chairs with fluffy striped cushions flanked either side of a matching table, already set for dinner with floral plates and crystal wine goblets. Candles flickered in the soft breeze, dropping a blanket of golden light over everything.
The sun had started setting, casting Boston’s skyline in a soft purple glow. Lights twinkled in the distance, while the red and green bow lights of passing boats dotted the harbor.
She’d had no idea that Finn had been planning this while they were riding back from Providence. Or how. They had kept their phones off, as agreed, and spent the hour of travel talking about everything and nothing—from growing up in the city to the challenges of architectural design in a world going green.
She’d learned that Finn hated spinach but loved the Red Sox, that he had his one and only B in seventh grade Science and that his first job had been delivering newspapers. She’d told him that her favorite food was cake, and that she’d been the last on her block to learn to ride a bike. She told him about the time she’d gotten lost in the train station and the day she got her braces.
It was the most she’d shared with anyone in a long, long time, and it had felt nice. Then the car pulled up in front of Finn’s building and Finn had turned to her and said, “All those details should really help when we meet with the adoption people,” and Ellie had been reminded that her marriage was nothing more than a sham.
If that was so, why had Finn gone to all this trouble to set up such a romantic tableau?
“How … when …” She let out a breath. “This is incredible, Finn.”
He grinned. “Thank you.”
“How did you do it?”
“Remember that rest stop we went to on the way back from Rhode Island?”
She nodded.
“I made a few phone calls while you were … indisposed.”
“A few fast phone calls. And clearly productive.”
“I’m a man who likes to get things done.” He reached for her hand, and she let that happen, wondering when touching Finn had become so easy or if she was just telling herself it was to preserve the mood, and then they walked forward onto the private terrace of his building, temporarily transformed into an outdoor dining room.
Just as Finn pulled out her chair, music began, a soft jazz floating from an unseen sound system. A waiter emerged from a door at the side, bearing a tray with water glasses and a carafe filled with two bottles—one a chilled white wine, the other a sparkling grape juice. He placed the water glasses on the table with merely a nod toward Ellie, then uncorked the wine and juice, pouring Ellie’s nonalcoholic version first, then Finn’s wine, before disappearing back through the door again. Finn had remembered she didn’t drink, and had clearly put a lot of time and thought into the entire evening. Why?
He raised his glass and tilted it toward her. “To … partnership.”
“Partnership,” she echoed, and ignored the flutter of disappointment in her gut. In the end, they would go their separate
