The Inconvenient Bride - By Anne McAllister Page 0,38

shortest honeymoon on record,” Bruce said when she called him about working the next morning.

“We decided it would be better to wait,” Sierra said, which was about the kindest thing you could say about what had happened between her and Dominic the night before.

Bruce grunted. “I’ll let Finn and Gib know you’re working again. I’m sure Finn will want you tomorrow. He was grumbling last night when I told him you were going to be gone. So count on him. I’ll be in touch, and I’ll put you back on the books for everyone else.”

Which left her today to get through. Yesterday had been easy. She’d been dancing on air yesterday, delighted with life and with the prospect of her marriage.

Today it was harder to be sanguine. Today it was damned difficult even to muster a Sierra Kelly trademark smile.

Of course she wasn’t Sierra Kelly anymore. Technically.

But in every other way, apparently, she was. Dominic certainly didn’t want to make a real marriage out of what they had. He only wanted a live-in bed partner.

The very thought made Sierra want to spit.

Well, really, she chided herself. What did she expect?

Love.

It was as stupid and simple as that.

She was such a foolish optimist, such a ridiculous Pollyanna, that she’d expected he’d fall in love with her the way she was falling in love with him.

At the very least, she expected he would try.

Sierra gave points for trying.

Dominic wasn’t getting any points at all. In fact he was so far in the hole that she thought he would probably never reach zero again if it took him the rest of his life.

Not that he was trying.

He’d stalked off to his study after their little blowup—and he’d still been there when she’d gone up to her room. He’d stayed there a good long time, too, immersed in his files and his mergers and his papers.

It was well past midnight when she heard his footsteps outside her door.

She’d heard him stop, then try the handle.

As if!

Like she would have left the lock undone so he could just come in and grab a quickie before he barricaded himself in his own little business world once more!

And then he’d had the audacity to tell her she was being childish. She was tempted to throw a pot at the door. If he wanted to see childish, she would be only too happy to show him!

But she hadn’t. She’d glared in stony silence at the locked door, and finally he’d gone away.

She’d heard him banging around in his room, making plenty of noise, letting her know how displeased he was.

Well, he could take his displeasure and shove it, Sierra thought. She’d be glad to help!

Finally the noise had abated. The room had quieted. And Dominic, no doubt, had gone right to sleep.

Sierra had spent the rest of the night fuming. If she slept at all, it was close to dawn and she only dozed fitfully, dreaming alternately about making love with him and throttling him. The latter dreams gave her far more satisfaction. And then, close to five-thirty, she heard the shower go on in his bathroom.

“Getting an early start?” she muttered sourly.

Undoubtedly. He wouldn’t want to let more than a couple of hours go by when he wasn’t totally consumed with his work. Still furious, she rolled over, pulled the pillow and the blanket over her head and shut out the sound of Dominic.

Not until she was sure he was gone to work did she get up and unlock the door.

Then she took a leisurely shower, dressed in her own clothes this time. There was nothing romantic or sexy or remotely enticing about wearing one of Dominic’s shirts. In fact she was tempted to burn the one she had worn. Fortunately she had just enough maturity not to do anything quite that stupid.

Pity she had been stupid enough to marry the man.

Pity she’d been stupid enough to bare her heart to Mariah, too. Now her sister would be worrying and, worse, very likely meddling.

Sierra decided she would have to put a stop to that before Mariah even got started. So she took a bus to the West Side and, fetching Reuben sandwiches from Mariah’s favorite deli, she turned up on her sister’s doorstep for lunch.

“You’re not going to be morning sick, are you?” she asked when her sister opened the door. Last year Mariah had opened the door, taken one whiff of the corned beef and sauerkraut sandwiches and dashed for the bathroom.

“Blessedly no,” Mariah said. “Not