Sean’s broad shoulders rocked with laughter at Isla’s question, more amused than anything by the utter seriousness of her tone. “You mean it, don’t you?” he marveled. “You truly are wishing I’m someone else, aren’t you?”

“I just don’t think we’re going to be a good fit.” Isla’s tone was slightly defensive. She knew she was being rude, but it was that or kiss him, and well…she could live with being rude.

“That’s too bad,” Sean murmured, “since I’m thinking the opposite.”

Oh dear. Oh no. Isla gnashed her teeth against the seductive impact of his voice on her senses. It just wasn’t enough that God had made this man sinfully handsome, was it? He just had to be blessed with a slow, sexy Texan drawl, too, the kind that made his every word sound deliciously wicked and forbidden.

“Try to remember the letters we exchanged,” he coaxed. “I enjoyed them so much, they were the highlight of my day, darlin’.”

Isla fidgeted in her seat. “I enjoyed them, too, but it’s different now.” His letters had made her picture a sweet, ordinary cowboy who cared so much for his dear Papa he was willing to marry a girl he didn’t know for his father’s peace of mind.

In reality, however –

Isla almost snorted. The part that involved his father was still true. According to Sean, his father’s surgery was slated in two weeks’ time, and Sean was hoping that the promise of a potential grandchild would be enough to have his father work hard for his recovery.

As for the rest…

There was nothing sweet about this dangerously handsome man in front of her, and there was certainly nothing ordinary –

Isla was startled to find herself the sudden recipient of Sean’s knowing look. “What?”

“You’re comparing me to Swanson again, aren’t you, darlin’?”

Isla flushed. She had forgotten how intuitive he was, something that had been evident even back when they were only exchanging letters. He had been so good at reading between the lines that every letter he wrote to her contained answers to questions she hadn’t been able to make herself ask.

Mrs. Carmichaels told me she had to send you my profile report, Isla had once written. I hope nothing in it scared you off?

Yes, she did, he had written back. And you’re a sight for sore eyes, sugar.

The words were exactly what Isla wanted to hear. Having grown up hearing her family disparage her looks for years, she had worried greatly about whether he’d find her sufficiently presentable for him.

She had believed him then, but now…

“It’s impossible not to compare the two of you,” Isla told him honestly. “I mean, look at yourself, seriously. Jonathan was good-looking, but he’d be invisible next to you---”

“Thank you, sugar. I think you’re beautiful, too.”

Isla wondered irritably if Sean had a God-given talent for making her blush. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment---”

“You never have to,” he drawled. “You’re always beautiful in my eyes---”

“Will you please stop that?” Isla was torn between exasperation and embarrassment. “You weren’t such a reprehensible flirt in our letters---”

“No, I wasn’t.”

A straight answer for once, Isla thought, astonished.

Then she saw his eyes gleam –

“But you were.”

And she realized that she should have known better, and that leopards could never change its spots.

“You were such a wonderful flirt in your letters, Isla.” Sean’s tone was wicked. “Do you remember?”

Now that he mentioned it ---

Evergreen, Texas won’t be anything like your city life, sugar, Sean had once written to her. You sure you won’t find yourself bored?

As long as you promise to stay with me, she had quickly written back, I won’t have any complaints.

Isla’s cheeks were a deeper shade of red by the time she met Sean’s gaze. “I admit to being excessively friendly,” she began stiffly.

Sean chuckled. “Is that how you call flirting in San Diego?”

“Okay, fine. I was a bit of a flirt---” She lifted her chin. “But it was only because I wanted to be sure you wouldn’t change your mind about marrying me. I was desperate to have a reason to leave home---”

“And have you changed your mind about that? Do you wish you never left home instead?”

“No, of course not---”

“Then why have you changed your mind about me?” Sean asked reasonably.

Isla didn’t answer him this time, but the frustration in her eyes spoke volumes, and he said gently, “I’m still the same man you exchanged letters with, and I’m nothing like Swanson.”

Isla bit her lip hard. Jonathan had sworn to love her, but in the end he had betrayed her. How could she allow herself to believe it would be different between them, especially when Sean was so much more a man than Jonathan was?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Sean murmured, “but you’re looking at things the wrong way, darlin’. Our marriage may not be founded on love, but you’ve seen how deceptive love can be. Don’t you think we’ve better chances of staying together when our marriage is based on the truth?”

There was a long moment of silence, and then Isla said finally, “You’re wasted as a cowboy, Sean. You could earn millions if you were a salesman instead.”

Sean’s lips twitched. “Stubborn little witch.” It was becoming clear to him that she would rather eat nails than agree with him on anything. “Did you even listen to a single word I said?”

“I didn’t have to.” Isla let her eyes go wide like a besotted debutante. “You had me at ‘sugar.’”

This time Sean could no longer help it, and he threw his head back with a laugh.

“I’m serious, though,” Isla said oh so earnestly. “Roping cows or doing whatever it is cowboys do won’t get you far. Your million-dollar-future lies in sales---”

“A million-dollar future, hm?”

“Or billions even.” A slight smile touched her lips. Their back-and-forth exchange reminded Isla of the delightful banter they enjoyed in their letters, and lost as she was in the memories, she failed to notice the way Sean’s smile no longer reached his eyes. “As long as we’re dreaming,” Isla quipped, “dream big, right?”

“Depends if you want that kind of dream,” Sean murmured.

Isla rolled her eyes. “Everyone wants to be a billionaire.”

“Are you saying you won’t be Mrs. Northwood if I can’t promise to be a billionaire?”

Isla tried not to let her pleasure show as she imagined how it would feel to have people call her ‘Mrs. Northwood’. Clearing her throat, she said, “You got it all wrong.”

“Is that so?” Isla’s expressive face told him very clearly that learning his full name – which he had instructed Charlotte to withhold – meant nothing at all to her, and Sean wasn’t certain how to feel about it.

“It’s fine,” she told him forgivingly. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to be sexist.”

His eyebrows shot up. “I was being sexist?”

“Weren’t you?” Isla’s tone was now impish. “It never occurred to you that I would want to be a billionaire on my own terms, did it?” Before he could answer, she said magnanimously, “But like I said, it’s fine. And if – no, wait, when – I become a billionaire, I promise I won’t hold grudges and ask you to change your name to Mr. Bouchard.”

The look on Sean’s face when she finished speaking was precious, and Isla couldn’t help laughing.

The sound was enchanting, but then – everything about her was. He had been sexist without knowing he was so, but instead of rubbing his nose in it, she had simply made her point and moved on.

This woman was truly a gift from the gods, Sean reflected, and she made him feel so damn fortunate he felt like he could draw a pat hand from a stacked deck. She was funny and articulate, smart and kind – she was indeed nothing like the so-called 3Bs that Charlotte had so scathingly spoke of, and thank fuck for that.

Isla started when Sean suddenly leaned forward, and all five senses of hers went reeling as he bent his head closer and closer. “W-What are you doing?”

“What do you think?” And still the distance between them kept shrinking.

“Sean?” This time, her voice came out an embarrassing squeak. It was almost like he was going to kiss her, she thought wildly. And if it was what he planned to do, should she let him?

Isla jumped in her seat as Sean’s breath fanned the side of her neck, her hands flying to her mouth to keep herself from gasping.

Oh God.

Would his first kiss land on her ear, her neck, her –

“I think I’ll enjoy being married to you for the holidays, Isla Bouchard.” His words were a low, wicked croon that had her squeezing her eyes shut. Anytime now…anytime now…anytime now –

But nothing happened.