Chapter Nine

 

 

They belonged together, and after what had happened on his boat, she could no longer deny it.

But in case she thought to, Shea was prepared to get her naked and prove her wrong, over and over again, until he’d drilled the truth into her pretty little head.

The bell chimed above his head when he entered the store.

He knew sex wouldn’t fix their marriage. Might make things worse, in fact, if he didn’t handle it right. But he didn’t plan to make things worse, and sex with his wife might just be the opening he needed to break through her barriers. Just a tiny crack; if he could exploit the breach, he might be able to barge the rest of the way back into her life and her heart.

There were no guarantees that he’d know what to do once inside her walls, but it was a chance. One he had to take if he was going to win his wife back.

And he had to win her back. There was no other option. Not for him.

He hadn’t laid eyes on her days. Not since she’d tugged her dress down over her naked hips and scurried from his arms looking more shaken and fragile than he’d ever seen her. Though it’d gutted him to let her go, he could see she needed some space. He gave it to her, a part of him recognizing that he’d never be able to hold onto her by grasping too tightly.

But then last night, she sent Ava to pick up Connor and Maisie, and his mercy came to a swift end.

Summoned by the chime, Isobel emerged from the back room, a bulbous heap of frilly fabric in her arms. He despised the world-weary frown that pulled at her features when she spotted him.

She picked her way through the clothing racks and edged close to him. “What are you doing here?” she hissed.

She’d drawn her dark hair into a sleek ponytail, and as usual, makeup she didn’t need painted her beautiful face. If he hadn’t peered closely, he would’ve missed the puffy bags under her eyes.

A dark pleasure spread through him as he contemplated what might be keeping her awake at night. “Why haven’t you returned my calls?”

She glanced in the direction of a woman rummaging through the horde of white dresses at the back of the store. “Have you signed the papers?”

“We haven’t finished our negotiations.”

Pink rushed into her cheeks. “That wasn’t a negotiation. It was extortion.”

Beneath the flowy black blouse she wore, black leggings hugged her lush bottom and shapely thighs.

“All I asked for was a kiss.” He dragged his gaze back to her face. “The rest happened because we’re meant to be together.”

She offered her customer a weak smile, then sliced him with a look. “Can we not do this here?”

“Where would you like to do it?”

The warm color on her cheeks spread to her neck and chest, and her lips parted with the slight hitch in her breathing. Triumph and lust tugged at his balls.

“It was just sex,” she whispered, panic churning in her stormy eyes.

“It was good sex. Fucking fantastic sex.” He pushed into her space. “It’s a whole new ball game now, my sweet wife.”

Holding the dress tightly to her chest, like a shield, she backed away. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m not giving up on us. We’re good together, Isobel. Incredible.”

“Sex was never our problem.” She came up hard against the counter. “Our issues are bigger than that. Sign the papers, Shea.”

Slowly, he reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair that’d escaped her ponytail off her forehead. “I will never forgive myself for what’s happened to us. I didn’t guard our relationship with enough jealousy. But that ends now.”

The pink tip of her tongue came out to lick her lips.

“I’m going to win you back, a mhuirnīn.”

Her expression softened. “Shea, I told you, it’s too late.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“You’re not listening to me.” She pressed her palm to his chest, as though she intended to push him away. “It’s over.”

“I disagree.”

Her hand over his heart, her gaze locked on his mouth. “It doesn’t matter if you agree with me or not. It’s wh-what I want.”

His patience ran out. “Goddammit, Isobel, we are not getting a div—”

“Excuse me,” a woman’s voice interrupted.

Isobel’s head snapped around while Shea bit down on a curse and eased away from her.

The woman with the shitty timing pointed to the dress in Isobel’s hands. “Can I see that dress?”

Isobel blinked rapidly and then hoisted the crumpled gown filling her arms. “This one?”

The woman lifted the pale pink dress high, letting the fabric unfurl. “I love this color. Blush is so trendy right now.” Her head bent to one side as she studied the gown. “Who’s the designer?”

Words seemed to stick and slip on Isobel’s tongue. “Oh, uh, she’s no one you’d know.”

The woman dropped her chin to glower at Isobel over the rim of her tortoiseshell eyeglasses. “What’s her name?”

The pink in Isobel’s cheeks heightened and spread, pulling a frown from Shea.

“Uh…” With a nervous side-eye glance at him, she offered the woman a feeble smile. “It’s me. I made it.”

Surprise slammed into Shea and his head whipped from the extravagant gown the woman held up to his wife. “You made this?”

“Do you have any other dresses I can see?”

After a moment of stunned paralysis, Isobel sprang forward. At a nearby rack, she rifled through garments and soon hauled a white puffy one from the throng.

“Here’s a drop-waist ball gown, and I have a sheath over here somewhere…” With her free hand, Isobel shuffled through more gowns. “What style are you looking for?”

A spurt of laughter burst from the woman and she pushed a lock of her lightly graying hair behind one ear. “I’m not buying for myself. Where is the sheath?”

Isobel hauled another dress from the store rack and hooked all three gowns onto the crossbar, laying them atop the other gowns.

The woman shoved her eyeglasses on top of her head and stepped back.

Shea stared at the dresses right along with her. How had he not known Isobel made a wedding dress? Three of them. At least.

Why hadn’t she told him?

“I think there’s one more in the back.” Isobel bit down on her bottom lip. “Do you want me to get it?”

Frowning in concentration, the woman nodded. “Yes, please.”

While Isobel scurried away, Shea watched the woman inspect the gowns. She hunched close and examined the beading on one dress while on another, she lifted the hem and inspected the stitching on the gown’s underside.

What in the hell was going on?

Isobel reappeared with a creamy white dress, which the woman lifted from her hands with a hum of appreciation. “Ooh, I love this fabric. Is it silk?”

Isobel nodded. “I couldn’t resist making a dress with it.”

Hanging the dress alongside the others, the woman plucked the eyeglasses off her head. She chewed lightly on one temple tip on the glasses.

Then she twisted to face Isobel. “Your designs are beautiful. They’re trendy, but they’ve got a real vintage-inspired feel, don’t they?”

Isobel’s soft smile landed like a physical blow in the center of Shea’s chest.

“My mom was a seamstress,” Isobel said. “She loved vintage clothing.”

“Did she teach you how to sew?” the woman asked, her no-nonsense expression softening a bit.

“She tried, but I was a brat and didn’t listen to her.” With a rusty laugh, Isobel gave her head a small shake. “Oh, how I have suffered for it ever since.”

The woman’s eyeglasses cut through the air. “No one listens to their mother. Especially teenage girls. It’s the rite of passage for every woman to learn the hard way that her mother was right all along.”

While the women shared a laugh, his heart battered his sternum.

“I like to look at old pictures of her.” Isobel’s soft voice sloped through him. “I didn’t realize it when she was alive, but she was very stylish. She’s inspired a few of my designs.”

The woman’s gaze returned to the dresses. “I love this one.” She touched the delicate fabric. “The cut is amazing.”

A delightful blush rushed into Isobel’s soft cheeks. “Thank you.”

He gaped, his mouth slightly ajar, at the sudden reappearance of the soft, tenderhearted woman he’d married. It’d been years since he’d seen her. Happy and hopeful, with no traces of worry or resentment. God, how he missed her.

“And the way you mix vintage with trendy touches is remarkable. You have a gift.”

Despite her obvious pleasure, a frown puckered Isobel’s brow. “You know a lot about wedding dresses. Do you work in the industry?”

The woman stuck out her hand. “I’m Vanessa Dubois. I’m the editor at Stylish Bride magazine.”

A strangled sound erupted from Isobel. “Oh! I—I—I love your magazine. I read it every month.”

The wide smile remained on Vanessa’s face as Isobel shook her hand with enough vigor to cause injury to most people. “What’s your name?”

“Isobel.”

“Isobel what?”

Isobel froze, then her gaze darted to his face.

She swallowed thickly. “Nolan. Isobel Nolan.”

“Nolan?” Vanessa stuck her glasses on top of her head again. “Do you know Leo?”

“It depends,” Shea interjected. “What’s he done?”

Vanessa turned intelligent eyes on him. “He’s marrying my niece.”

Isobel gasped. “Prue is your niece?”

Over the odd sound of Isobel’s sputtering shock, Shea said, “Well in that case, I’m Leo’s eldest and most charming brother.”

“The oldest brother?” Vanessa eyed him thoughtfully. “Luke?”

“Close,” he lied. “I’m Shea.”

“Shea and Isobel.” Her gaze traveled between them. “That makes you Colin and Mary’s parents?”

“You’ve met Connor and Maisie?” Isobel asked.

“Prue and I were at the beach scouting sites for the ceremony when we ran into… Noah? With the kids.” A calculating gleam came into Vanessa’s eyes. “You have a beautiful family.”

Isobel suddenly appeared slightly ill.

“And we’re delighted to be adding your lovely niece to the clan,” Shea said easily.

Vanessa assessed him openly, and he offered her a smile, the one he knew made most women blush or giggle, sometimes both.

Vanessa didn’t blush, but she did burst out with a boisterous laugh. “You’re adorable.”

His smile turned genuine. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me adorable.”

“That I can believe,” she said. “I love your accent. Where are you from?”

“Ireland, originally. Our family moved to the States when Leo was a wee one, which is why he suffers the misfortune of talking like a Yank.”

“But you’ve stayed? Did you ever think about going back to Ireland?”

“I met my wife here when I was sixteen years old.” A fierce edge crept into his voice and rode just below his words. “Nothing could drag me away after that.”

Feeling her gaze on him, Shea sought and found stormy gray eyes.

“How long have you two been married?”

“Eighteen years,” they said together.

Vanessa missed the look that passed between them as she studied Isobel’s dresses, her head tipped to one side.

“Isobel Nolan.” With a shrug, she held up her hands. “I’m sorry but I’ve never heard of you.”

Isobel’s soft chuckle arrowed straight through his heart. “No one’s heard of me. I’m… new.”

“How new?”

“I’ve been sewing dresses for years, but I’ve only recently started to sell them here at the store.”

She’d been making wedding dresses for years? He had so many questions. How many dresses had she made? How many had she sold? Why didn’t he know that she liked to look at old pictures of her mom? There was so much he wanted to know. So much she’d never told him.

So damn much he’d never asked her.

Vanessa pivoted abruptly. “I have a proposition for you. What do you think about being the subject of a feature in Stylish Bride?”

Isobel’s mouth fell slack.

“We do a monthly feature on an industry up-and-comer.”

“I’ve read it,” Isobel said dazedly.

“I want to feature you. A fresh new designer, living an idyllic life on an idyllic little island with her photogenic husband and two adorable children. Your story is exactly what our readers love.”

Isobel’s pretty mouth snapped shut, and Shea could practically hear the gears of her mind working. Vanessa thought they had an idyllic life. An idyllic marriage. She didn’t know about the divorce summons floating in the belly of his boat or the cranky teenager at home. She didn’t know that their idyllic little island would transform into a dark, frozen tundra in only a few short months.

Crushing disappointment settled heavily on her shoulders.

With a jolt, he realized that she wanted this. Badly. By her devastated expression, she needed it. Her happiness depended on it.

In the silence, Vanessa pushed to close the deal. “Look, we’ve had a story fall apart at the last minute, and I need to fill the spot fast. We’ll do an interview, take some pictures, get you some national exposure, and then leave you to it. What do you say?”

Isobel tried to hide her sorrow behind a smile. “Unfortunately—”

“We’d love to.” He slipped an arm around his wife’s waist and hauled her to his side.

When she gasped, he covered her mouth with his, swallowing the sound of her tell with his kiss.

“Fantastic.” Vanessa plucked a cell phone from her purse. “Whew, you scared me for a second there. I thought you were going to turn me down.”

Slowly, reluctantly, he lifted his head. Isobel blinked up at him with soft eyes, glassy with shock.

“Why in the world would we do that?” Shea said. “It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.”

“That it is. Let me get your number.” Vanessa punched the digits Shea relayed into her cell phone. “So, from your vantage point, the whole thing will only take a day or two. We’ll do an interview—don’t panic. We’re just going to ask you some questions about yourself, your background, your creative process, etcetera, etcetera. Then our photographer will snap some pictures of you here at your store, at home, and anywhere else you’d like. Maybe grab a few shots of you two on the beach or something, I don’t know. And you should select some of your more popular dresses for the photoshoot.”

“My what?”

“No panicking, you promised,” Vanessa said, though Isobel had done no such thing. “Maybe choose ten dresses? Enough to showcase your style but not too many.”

“Ten dresses?” Isobel swallowed with an audible gulp.

“Give or take.” Vanessa pressed her cell phone to her ear. “I’m sorry we don’t have room to display them all, but I suspect you’ll have plenty of opportunities to show off your creations after the feature runs.” She stuck up her index finger. “Jen, hi, it’s me. I found someone for the feature. You’re going to love her. I know. It must be fate or something. So what’s your schedule like? Okay. Okay. Call me back.”

Vanessa disconnected the call and her face split with her wide grin. “Everything’s falling into place. I’m so excited. Are you excited? ’Cause you look a little queasy.”

“She’s overwhelmed.” Shea pressed a kiss to Isobel’s temple. “It’s a dream come true.”

“It is.” Vanessa winked at him and then started toward the door. “I’ll be in touch with a day and time for the interview and photoshoot. I’d love to get Jen and Marcus out here tomorrow, but realistically it’ll probably take a week or two to set everything up.”

“Two weeks?” Isobel squeaked.

“Hopefully sooner. We need to wrap it up by the end of the month to make deadline.” Her hand on the handle, she glanced back at them over her shoulder. “It was so nice meeting you both. I don’t fly out until next Sunday, so hopefully we bump into each other again, but if not, I’ll see you at Leo’s wedding, won’t I?”

Relishing the feel of his wife’s body against his, Shea tightened his hold on Isobel’s waist. “Definitely.”

“Fantastic.” Her grin wide, Vanessa shoved her eyeglasses onto her face. “Bye for now.”

The bell jingled when she exited the store and they watched her pass by the front window. The moment she disappeared from sight, Isobel shot from his arms.

She whirled on him. “Why did you do that?”

He shrugged. “Because you were going to say no.”

With a soft smack, she flattened her hand against her forehead. “She thinks we’re married.”

“We are married.”

Her hand dropped heavily to her side. “She thinks we’re happily married.”

“You can’t pretend to be happily married to me for a couple of weeks? Through one little interview and a couple of pictures?”

“No.”

He shook his head. “I was wrong.”

“Wrong about what?

“I thought you wanted this.”

A dazed—no, dreamy—light flickered in her eyes, but then she fixed him with a dark look of mistrust. “So what if I do?”

Her distrust left a gash on his heart. “If you’re as talented as Vanessa seems to think you are, then you have to take a shot. You deserve it.”

The dreamy light flared, and for a moment he could only stare, rapt.

“But what if they find out it’s all a lie?”

“Did you make these dresses?”

Color rushed into her cheeks, and she nodded.

“Then there’s nothing that should stop you from seizing this opportunity.”

She pulled her puffy bottom lip between her teeth and tortured it.

A punch of lust struck him in the gut. “If you want this, then I say, let’s go get it for you.”

Her smile tried to form before she ruthlessly bit it back. “Why do I get the feeling there’s a catch?”

He clucked his tongue. “Have you always been this suspicious?”

One of her dark eyebrows inched upward in challenge. “You’d pretend to be happily married to me?”

“Of course I would.” A smile curled through him. “On one condition.”

“I knew it,” she said, but no anger infected her tone. “What condition?”

“I’ll pretend to be happily married to you, as long as I get to kiss you whenever I want.”