engagement—if she were head over heels in love with the man—she would have been bowled over by its exquisite beauty. Something she would have chosen for herself—albeit a more modest-size stone—if she were given the opportunity.
But in that sense, there was nothing real about any of this.
She took the ring and slid it onto her left ring finger. The narrow band fit a little loosely and she nudged it with her thumb, pushing the weighty diamond to the center.
Beautiful or not, the ring felt more like a noose around her neck.
“I suppose you’ve already decided what date, too?”
“Next week.”
She nearly reeled. “So soon?”
“I can fit it into my schedule now. And yours, as it happens, since you’ll be able to cancel all of those meetings you have lined up next week with potential investors.”
“H-how did you arrange the cathedral on such short notice?”
“I asked.”
Panic bloomed inside her head. How could she ever be a match against him?
“Everything is already arranged,” he continued. “The ceremony will be at four. We’ll have a small reception afterward at my penthouse. It’s easier than finding another suitable venue, and Raoul will provide the catering. All you have to do is find a gown. We’ll issue a few official photographs for the press, so keep that in mind.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t take care of the gown, then, too.”
“Your taste is excellent. But if you prefer, I can make a few calls to some designers I know.”
“Gosh. Thanks.” She shivered and her sarcasm was shaky.
“You’re cold.” He suddenly pulled her close to him, wrapping his overcoat around her.
It was like being engulfed by a blast furnace. And for the life of her, she couldn’t pull away.
“Better?” His voice dropped, whispering against her temple.
Her fingers curled against his shoulders, easily discerning the hard feel of him beneath the soft wool. No extra padding in that coat, at all. “Not really,” she admitted.
“It won’t all be bad. Have you seen the Mediterranean?”
She shook her head. She had to fight against the urge to lean against him. To just let him take her weight, and everything else on her plate…
But wasn’t that what he was doing, anyway?
“I’ve arranged a private villa in the French Riviera for the honeymoon.”
Honeymoon. She almost laughed. Or cried. Because he was covering all of his bases as far as appearances went. “I don’t want to be away from the office for even a week.”
“You will be, and it’ll be three weeks.”
Her gaze flew to his. “That’s impossible. I can’t just flit off for—” She broke off when the door behind them opened again.
“What on earth is taking so.” Emily’s voice trailed off at the sight that met her. “Long?” Her eyebrows lifted in silent demand.
Lisa tried to untangle herself from Rourke’s arms, but he wasn’t cooperating. Which left her to peer over his shoulder at her mother. But when she opened her mouth to explain, nothing came. “I…I—”
“Blame it on me, Mrs. Armstrong,” Rourke said smoothly. Without releasing Lisa, he tucked her against his side and turned to face Emily, his hand extended. “It’s good to meet you again.”
Again? Startled, Lisa looked from his face to her mother’s.
The insistent inquiry on Emily’s face was replaced by surprise. And no small amount of confusion. “Mr. Devlin. How nice to see you.”
“Your mother and I were on the same charitable board a few years ago,” he told Lisa. The smile he directed at Emily was both rueful and charming. “I’m afraid I forgot to mention it before.” He looked at Lisa, the very picture of devoted man. “We’ve been busy with…other matters.”
Her cheeks burned. She wondered if he’d studied the way Ted Bonner was always looking at Sara Beth, because he had the whole besotted thing down to an art. She glanced at her mother, who was now eyeing her with even more surprise.
“You are…seeing…Rourke Devlin?”
She would have had to have been a stone to miss her mother’s implication.
Her chin lifted. She smiled a little and let her left hand slide down to the center of Rourke’s chest. There was no way that her mother could miss the diamond on her finger. “Yes.”
Emily’s lips parted. She blinked a little. And Lisa knew that she probably should be ashamed of enjoying, just a little, the sight of her mother so obviously at a loss for words.
“I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t speak to you and Dr. Armstrong before now,” Rourke smoothly stepped into the verbal void. “But your daughter has a way of making me forget all convention.”
Lisa nearly choked over that.
But Emily was recovering quickly. Her smile was still more than a little puzzled. Proof that she couldn’t understand what appeal Lisa might have for a man like him. But she stepped back in the doorway, extending her hand. “Of course we don’t mind,” she was saying. “Lisa is an adult. She makes her own decisions. Now come in out of the chill. We’ve got most of the family here,” she continued when Rourke let go of Lisa and nudged her back inside the house. “Though it would have been perfect if Derek and Olivia could have been here for such an announcement.” She gave Lisa a censorious look, as if Lisa had deliberately chosen the timing to annoy her.
But there was nothing but delighted pleasure again in Emily’s face when she pushed the door closed and tucked her arm through Rourke’s to lead him through her graciously decorated home.
Following behind them, Lisa blew out a silent breath.
At least now she didn’t have to figure out a way to break the unlikely news that she was going to marry the man.
In that, she supposed she ought to be grateful.
“Everyone, look who’s here.” Emily’s voice had taken on a cheerful slant by the time they entered the drawing room. “Darling.” She went first to Gerald. “You remember Rourke Devlin, don’t you?”
Rourke shook the older man’s hand. “It’s good to see you, Dr. Armstrong.”
Gerald waved that off. “Gerald,” he insisted. “And of course I remember the last time.” He sounded irritated that Emily might suggest he wouldn’t. “He was at the Founder’s Ball. Lisa, get the man a drink.” He gestured to the leather chair that until a few years ago, had been his own preferred perch. “You’ve met my eldest son, Paul, and his fiancée?”
Aware
