people would consider faults. “Your enthusiasm for food is refreshing.”
“I’m glad you think so. Because it’s something you’re going to have to get used to.”
He stole a glance at her lusciously curved body. “You can eat as much as you want around me.” Trying to keep his errant thoughts off her voluptuous figure, he focused on the road.
A moment later, they engaged in chitchat. They revealed how old they were and when they were born. She was thirty-one, and he was thirty-seven. Interestingly enough, their birthdays were only a few days apart. They were both Aries. Normally he didn’t follow that stuff. But she did, apparently, referring to their astrological sign as “hard-headed rams.” He supposed that part was true, with as determined as they were to make this marriage situation work.
When he reached the entrance of Pine Valley, he stopped at the gate. He had a key code, but a live guard was on duty, too.
Once he moved forward, Allison glanced out her window. “Wow! This is a grand area. Look at all the mansions. You live in one of these all by yourself?”
“Yep. Just me.” Pine Valley was a private, upscale community with million-dollar homes, an 18-hole golf course, a fancy clubhouse and other exclusive amenities.
“You don’t have a household staff?”
“I use a chef delivery service that comes by a few times a week and leaves my meals in the fridge or the freezer, based on the menus I choose. I use a cleaning service, too. I’d never have anyone live with me. I don’t like having people under foot.” He turned down his street and approached his home. The Tudor-style architecture featured heavy brick chimneys, decorative stonework, casement windows and a steeply pitched roof. An immaculate lawn dressed out the yard, with summer flowers garnishing the walkway.
He pulled the Porsche into his garage. His other car was a luxury sedan, another leased vehicle. Nothing was ever permanent in Rand’s mind.
He gestured to the pearly white sedan. “You can drive that one when we’re married.”
“Thank you, but I’d rather not.”
“Because of your discomfort about being on the opposite side of the road?” He didn’t see why that should hold her back. “You plan on driving in the States eventually, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I can wait until I’m ready.”
Had she waited to have sex the first time, too? He suspected that she’d most likely lost her virginity when she was well into her twenties. He doubted that she’d given it up when she was a doe-eyed teen, writing poetry to her make-believe husband.
He escorted her into his house by way of the garage. They entered through the laundry room, with its high-efficiency washer and dryer, bright white counters and stainless steel sink.
Going from one spacious room to the next, he gave her a tour of the first floor, familiarizing her with the custom-built layout.
“Everything about your home is magnificent,” she said.
“Thanks.” He’d chosen furnishings that reflected his eclectic taste, mixing the old with the new, traditional with modern. “Let me get the pizza ordered, then I’ll show you the rest of it.” He called in the food and notified the guard at the gate, too.
While they waited for the delivery, he took her upstairs to where the bedrooms were.
They entered a room with an impressive view of the backyard. “When you move in, you can use this suite. It’s the one my lovers use when they stay over. There’s an adjoining bathroom with a shower and a claw-foot tub. Women seem to like that.”
“It’s all very elegant.” She studied a gold-leafed dresser, tracing her hand along the wood. She turned and said, “But I hope you don’t mind me asking, why do you have a separate suite for your lovers?”
He motioned to a set of ornate wooden doors. “This suite connects to mine, so when I have a woman over, we can open those doors and share both spaces. But we can close them when we want privacy, too. In the old days, ladies had their own boudoirs, and I wanted to create that effect here, too. I think it’s sexy, waiting on the other side for my lovers to be ready for me.” He walked over to the canopy bed that would become hers. “Sometimes they come to my suite, and sometimes they invite me to sleep in this one with them.”
She glanced at the pale beige material that draped the top and sides of the bed, then took a breath-stealing moment to look at him. He returned her gaze, steeped in his odd fascination with her. By now, she was standing in front of a Queen Anne–style vanity table, with her back to the beveled mirror. The wood was a deep, dark cherry, and the seat was upholstered in a light floral print.
Rand imagined her using the vanity on their wedding day. “Do you want to get married here?”
She widened her eyes. “In this suite?”
“No. In the house itself.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” She seemed embarrassed by her blunder. “That was silly of me.”
“That’s okay.” He liked how unpretentious she was, how she didn’t always behave accordingly. “Since we need to do this quickly, I think we should have a small, private civil ceremony. But it can still be traditional, if that’s your preference.”
“Something customary would be nice. I wish my family could be here, but they’d never be able to leave the farm on such short notice. Of course, they’ll probably want us to have a second ceremony in Kenmare, in the church where I was baptized.” She spoke softly, shakily, her voice hitching. “The second one would be called a convalidation, where our vows would be blessed and recognized by the church. But our marriage isn’t going to last long enough for that. I would never do it, anyway. It be would be too sacred for a deception like ours.”
“I know what a convalidation is. But to be honest, I haven’t been to church in a really long time.” It reminded him too much of his mother’s funeral and how painful it had been to lose her. But he didn’t want to talk about that. “I totally agree with you that a second ceremony is never going to happen. We just need to get through the first one.”
“Yes, but don’t be surprised if Da mentions us getting remarried in Ireland when you video chat with him.”
“How about if I just go along with whatever he says for now?” Rand didn’t want to upset her father. He’d been through enough turmoil with his own dad.
She remained with her back to the mirror. “That’ll work. Just pretend you’re on board with all of his ideas.”
“How do you think your mother is going to react?”
“She cries easily, and me marrying my dream man is going to make her weepy.”
“Right. The dream man thing.” Never in a million years did he expect to be cast in that role. But here he was, trying to wear that mantle. “So I should prepare for tears when I meet her on Skype?”
“Most definitely. She’s going to cry on the phone to me, too, when I first tell her about you. She’s also going to offer to alter her wedding dress and send it to me. She always wanted me to get married in the same dress she wore when she married Da,
