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‘Right, spill it, buddy, what’s between you and that cute little redhead?’ Monroe Latimer slanted Connor his ‘you’re busted’ look and slugged back the last of his beer. ‘And don’t tell me she’s your fiancée.’ He dropped the empty bottle onto the bar. ‘You may have got Red fooled, but I happen to know wild horses couldn’t get you to propose.’
‘Fair enough.’ Connor lifted his hands in surrender, knowing when he’d been rumbled. He’d planned to tell Monroe the truth straight away, but, well, what with one thing and another, they’d been at the bar for twenty minutes partaking of Monroe’s secret stash of beer and he hadn’t quite got round to it. ‘She’s not my fiancée. She’s my new neighbour in London. She’s smart and pretty and, for reasons too boring to mention…’ and way too transparent to mention to Monroe ‘…I needed a girlfriend while I was here and she fitted the bill. No strings attached.’
‘Hmm,’ Monroe said, keeping his eyes on Connor as he signalled the barman for a fresh beer. ‘Which does not explain why you told Red and me she was your fiancée. Or why you bought her what has to be a real pricey ring.’
Connor took a gulp of his own beer. ‘It’s complicated.’
‘I’ll bet,’ Monroe said, looking at him as if he were a bug under a microscope.
‘And not the least bit interesting,’ he countered.
‘Humour me.’
Connor gave a half-laugh, although he wasn’t finding being a bug all that amusing any more.
Monroe was a mate, a good mate. They’d even got drunk together one night and told each other more about their pasts than either of them was comfortable with—and their friendship had survived it. But there was one thing they’d never agreed on. And that was the subject of love and family.
That same night, when they’d been legless and overly sentimental, Connor had told Monroe that he would never fall in love. And Monroe had told him right back that he was talking a load of bull. Monroe had said that a guy didn’t get to pick and choose those things, which Connor had thought then, and still thought now, was even bigger bull. Maybe Monroe had been blindsided and fallen in love with Jessie, and once Connor had got to know Jessie he could see why, but Connor knew that would never, ever happen to him.
Because what Monroe didn’t know, what no one knew, was raising a family, having a home, was Connor’s idea of hell. And no woman would ever be able to change that for him. Christ, when Rachel had told him she was pregnant, his whole life had flashed before his eyes—and not in a good way.
He knew Monroe and Jessie thought his reaction had been down to the fact that Rachel wasn’t the right woman for him, but he knew different. He knew it had nothing to do with the woman. It went much deeper than that, and much further back. He’d offered to marry her, to support the baby, because he couldn’t live with himself and know a child of his had been left to fend for itself. But that hadn’t changed his gut reaction. He didn’t want the child and he didn’t want a wife. Any wife. And he was fine with that, fine and dandy.
He could tell by the way his friend was looking at him right now, though, that Monroe thought this little charade with Daisy was somehow significant. Sure he’d enjoyed her company in the last week. He’d got a thrill out of showing her the sights, and seeing her wide-eyed, enthusiastic reaction to everything. And in bed? Let’s just say she’d exceeded his wildest expectations. He’d even got an unexpected kick out of showing her off as his fiancée. But that was all there was to it. A week from now they’d go their separate ways and that would be that. So Connor intended to head his friend’s misconception right off at the pass.
‘All right,’ he sighed. ‘I should have been straight with you and Jessie. But after all the matchmaking advice I’ve had to endure from your lovely wife over the last three years, Roe. You’ve got to know, I couldn’t resist when she spotted the ring.’
‘Fair point.’ Monroe saluted him with his bottle of beer. ‘I’ll grant you Jessie is pretty damn persistent. But I hope you realise your little joke is going to backfire on you.’
‘She’ll forgive me,’ he said, feeling his confidence returning. He raised his eyebrows. ‘After all, she can’t resist my irresistible Irish charm.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Monroe laughed. ‘But that’s not what I meant.’
‘What did you mean, then?’ Why didn’t he feel quite so confident any more?
‘I gotta tell you, for a minute there you had me fooled as well as Jessie. You want to know why?’
Connor didn’t say a word.
‘Because you fit,’ Monroe said, and Connor’s heart stopped dead. ‘You and your cute little redhead. Daisy, that’s her name, right?’
Connor nodded dumbly, trying to pull himself together. This was ludicrous. Monroe was just trying to get a rise out of him. And it was working.
‘She suits you, pal,’ Monroe said, swigging his beer. ‘Right down to the ground. I’m an artist, I happen to have an eye for these things and I’m telling you. She’s the one.’
Connor growled a profanity under his breath, his stomach churning as he tried to see the joke. But why did it suddenly seem as if the joke was on him?
Monroe chuckled. ‘Hey, what happened to that irresistible Irish charm, buddy?’
‘Why didn’t you tell me Jessie and Monroe were friends of yours before we got to the gallery tonight?’ Daisy pulled out her earrings and dropped them in a bowl by the vanity.
She’d bided her time, not wanting to bring it up until she’d got a good firm grip on her own emotions. After the shock Jessie had given her it had taken a while.
‘Hmm?’ he said from behind her, then his hands settled on her waist. He pulled her into his arms, his naked chest warm against her back. ‘You looked lovely tonight, you know,’ he said, rubbing the silk of her slip against her belly as he nuzzled her ear. ‘I may have to hire you for this gig again.’
The comment—and the heat drifting up from her sex at his casual caresses—couldn’t have been calculated to ignite her temper quicker if he’d tried.
She turned in his arms, pushed against the muscled flesh. ‘It’s not funny,’ she said, suddenly feeling more hurt than angry and hating herself for her weakness. ‘You put me in a really difficult position. Not only not telling me you knew them, but then telling them we were getting married. And leaving me with Jessie like that. I felt awful. You knew I didn’t want to lie to people. It wasn’t fair.’
