Buying His Bride (The Donovan Brothers Trilogy Book 1) Page 2

  “You look very young for the opportunity I’m looking to fill.”

  She lowered the cloth to her lap, hands fisting. The last time Sierra checked, age wasn’t up for discussion in job interviews. Her heart sank at the inauspicious beginning, even as her temper rose.

  “Mr. Murdoch, may I be equally direct?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why don’t you tell me why I’m here today, and then perhaps I can decide for myself if my age is even relevant.”

  Murdoch smiled and leaned back in his chair. “Brian said you were a no-nonsense kind of person. That’s good. You see, the opportunity I want to discuss is an unusual one. I feel bound to consider not only my client’s interests but any prospective employee’s as well. That’s the only reason I commented on your age.”

  “We already know she’s twenty-five, John.” A deep, masculine voice broke into their conversation.

  Startled, she turned her head. The owner of the voice entered the office from an inner room. Her eyes widened. He wasn’t wearing a raincoat or holding an umbrella now, but she recognized him in an instant.

  “We meet again, Ms. Callahan. You look a trifle drier than the last time we saw each other, I’m happy to say.”

  Sierra realized her mouth was hanging open and shut it with a snap. “I didn’t expect to see you again!”

  “Nor I you. I’m surprised to learn you’re one of our applicants, I assure you.” He gave her an assessing look. “No ill effects from our first meeting, I hope?”

  At a distinct disadvantage for the second time she found herself in this man’s company, Sierra shook her head. “You seem to know my name, but I still don’t know yours.”

  “Ms. Callahan, this is Michael Donovan.” Murdoch made the introduction and, Sierra extended her hand. “Michael, may I present—”

  “Sierra Callahan,” said Michael, taking her hand. As soon as she could, she removed her hand from his. “As you can see, John, we’ve met. Once. Under wetter circumstances.”

  Donovan. Michael Donovan. Something about the name teased the edge of her brain as he seated himself in the twin of her chair.

  Like the older man, Michael was dressed in a suit, but nothing could disguise the sheer animal presence of his form or an innate grace of movement. Broad-shouldered, lean-hipped, with legs that were long and powerful, he had an equally compelling face. She remembered it well.

  He was of no personal interest, though. Her alcoholic father, now dead, hadn’t given her reason to trust men, and her ex-college boyfriend William had confirmed her lack of faith in them. William had caused her a great deal of misery back in the day. She shuddered and suppressed the flutter of dread that still surfaced on the rare occasions she thought about him.

  She’d made it a habit to tune out men long ago. Especially the good-looking ones.

  Michael addressed his next comment to her. “We’ve run a report. We know everything we need to know. Except whether you’d be willing to take the position I’m offering.”

  Was he kidding? They’d run a background report on her? Without her knowledge or permission?

  With difficulty, she corralled her temper.

  “I don’t want to be rude, but who exactly do you think you are?” If it was possible to be angry and intrigued at the same time, then she was both. “Brian Smith sent me here for what I thought would be a business interview, and suddenly it’s all cloak-and-dagger and I’ve had my privacy invaded by two people I don’t know!”

  “Nothing so mysterious as cloaks and daggers,” said Michael. “I apologize for the intrusion of the report. It was necessary under the circumstances, as I think you’ll understand in a moment. I may have a unique proposition for you.”

  Shivering from the combined effects of office air-conditioning and nerves, Sierra was in no mood for prevarication. “What is it?”

  “We have it on good authority from your associate Mr. Smith that you might be exactly the kind of person I need.” Michael paused, as if choosing his next words carefully. “But in this assignment, discretion will certainly be the greater part of valor, as will a certain amount of courage and maturity. Hence Murdoch’s unusual remark about how young you look.”

  The two men exchanged a glance.

  “Believe it or not, I haven’t come straight from the schoolroom.” Sierra retrieved her coffee and took a sip to steady her nerves and her temper. The warmth of the cup was an added bonus. “Brian isn’t only my supervisor but a good friend. You both trusted him enough to invite me here. He seemed to feel that I might be suitable for this mysterious opportunity.”

  Michael nodded, studying her. “You might be, at that.”

  “But he didn’t have any real information about the position. Except that it wasn’t a typical consulting assignment, and that it would fall outside the purview of McKinley’s usual expertise.”

  He smiled. “I gave Murdoch strict instructions to save the details for our interview today. Your friend isn’t aware of them himself.” He continued to watch her with a speculative look and Sierra’s tension grew.

  “Well, here I am, Mr. Donovan. Perhaps now might be a good time for those details.” She set down her cup once again, prepared to listen. “What is it that you feel I might be able to do for you?”

  Sierra’s words hung in the air for a moment, taking on a suggestive connotation she hadn’t intended. She swore she saw a glint in Michael’s eyes.

  “An intriguing question,” he murmured.

  Without thinking, she rolled her eyes. Seriously? To his credit, he laughed.

  Okay, point one for him. The man could laugh at himself.

  “Tell me what you do for McKinley,” he suggested.

  On firm ground for the first time, Sierra relaxed a little. “I’m a junior marketing consultant. As I’m sure you know, it’s a boutique firm south of Market. We specialize in rebranding existing products and services, as well as in launching new ones. Our clients range from Fortune 500 companies to mid-sized and emerging firms. I’ve been lucky to work with Brian since I came on board two years ago.”

  “Do you have your own client list?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet. One of the things Brian was hoping might come out of this interview is I would be able to do some freelance strategy work. I need the money, and I’m ambitious.”

  “Your family owns a pub, I understand?”

  The question seemed to come from left field.

  Sierra stiffened. “One of the findings of your background report? Yes.”

  “How does that figure into your ambitions?”

  “Is this relevant to the position we’re discussing now?” Claddagh and its financial difficulties were none of his business, but of course a background report would have revealed them.

  “Oh yes, I think it is.”

  “Fine.” Sierra held on to her temper. “I did a business degree in college, had some internship experience in marketing”—she didn’t want to think about that—“and eventually I got hired at McKinley. I don’t plan to stay there forever. I’d like to grow my own client list to allow me to strike out on my own in time. Eventually I’d like to use my skills to expand Claddagh.”

  If it didn’t go belly-up first, which looked more likely every day.

  “More coffee, Ms. Callahan?” Murdoch’s offer broke into the interview and Sierra was aware of Michael’s eyes upon her as she accepted another cup. He was sizing her up, as any potential employer would. She sipped coffee and engaged in a survey of her own.

  He certainly was something to look at. Good genes had done their part, but men didn’t have bodies as well defined as his unless they were very active or worked out. Or both. No wonder an expensive suit looked like a tailor’s dream on him. Thickly lashed blue eyes simply accentuated his masculinity, as did the arched brows above them. Sierra had never encountered a nose she’d have termed “aquiline” outside the pages of a novel, but if there were such a thing in real life, Michael had it. Very imperious, very Roman Emperor. Hi
s hair was a deep brown, almost black, his skin bronzed. He must spend time outside. And his mouth…sensual…a slight cleft in his chin…

  “Ms. Callahan?”

  Sierra snapped to attention. She’d missed his question. All because she’d been contemplating his damn mouth. “Sorry, what did you say?”

  As if he’d been able to read her mind, he smiled. Sierra felt a blush creep over her neck, then her face. Dammit. Blushing was the bane of redheads and had plagued her since childhood. She thought she’d gotten it under control in recent years. Apparently not.

  “I asked you if your schedule at McKinley allows for some flexibility. The job I have in mind will be very time-intensive, and I’m wondering if you would be able to juggle it and your other work commitments.”

  “I can’t say for sure, can I, until I know what the job would entail.” Sierra bit back her irritation. “Brian has assured me McKinley will be supportive as long as I’d be working a case that falls outside its own expertise and poses no competition to the firm.”

  “That sounds fair.”

  “And for a client that’s reputable, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  She shot Michael a glance at his bland tone, but his expression revealed nothing. Again she had the niggling sense that he was familiar, but she was certain she’d never met him before his car had drenched her in water.

  He wasn’t the kind of man people forgot. Particularly women.

  “So, the details, Mr. Donovan?” she asked. “I’m afraid I can’t be more specific until you tell me why you and Mr. Murdoch have brought me here.”

  He studied her a moment longer, and then, as if having come to a conclusion, he glanced at Murdoch, nodded once, and stood. “Mr. Murdoch will handle the details, as you call them, which is why he’s here today. But the basic proposition is this.” He smiled, his tone turning ironic. “Or perhaps I should rephrase…this is the basic proposal.”

  He caught and held her gaze, and she had the oddest feeling that he was suddenly ill at ease, though she would have bet a month’s paycheck from McKinley, which she could ill afford, that very little made this man uncomfortable in the course of an ordinary day.

  “Yes, Mr. Donovan?”

  “Ms. Callahan, I need your services for approximately one year, starting now. For five hundred thousand dollars now and a million more upon completion of that year, will you consent to be my wife?”

  Chapter Two

  He had to be kidding.

  She’d so hoped this interview might result in a legitimate business arrangement, a possible path toward finding a way out of the financial difficulties for her and her mother.

  She’d been a fool.

  Anger boiling, Sierra stood and faced Michael and John Murdoch. “Gentlemen, this is either a stupid practical joke, in which case I admit I’m failing to appreciate it, or it’s a proposition that should be offered to some other kind of woman.” She gathered her purse and jacket from the chair. “And if it’s the latter? Let me give you some financial advice. The sort of person you’re looking for, and her services, go for a whole hell of a lot less than a million and a half!”

  Sierra made for the office door, wrenching it open.

  “Ms. Callahan!” Michael Donovan’s voice rang out behind her. “Wait a moment, please.”

  She swung around to face him, chin tilted. His words were more of a command than a request.

  “Will you excuse us for a few minutes, John?” he asked, keeping his eyes on Sierra. Murmuring an assent, Murdoch passed them and left the room.

  “I don’t think there’s anything further to discuss, Mr. Donovan. I’m not interested in your so-called proposal. I came here in good faith looking for a legitimate business opportunity, and I find I’ve wasted my time. Which just happens to be as valuable to me as your time is to you.”

  “Call me Michael, please.” Again the request was put more as a command “You surprise me, Sierra. Most women wouldn’t find an offer of a million and a half dollars insulting, particularly women in your financial position.”

  Sierra was fed up. “Call me Ms. Callahan.” She ignored a gleam in his eyes. “Just who do you think you are, ordering background searches on me and referring to my ‘financial position’? The details of my life and my finances have nothing to do with you.”

  With a smoothness Sierra found infuriating, Michael took her arm, and, despite her resistance, walked her back to the chair, then closed the office door.

  “Forgive me, but if you’re determined to have a conversation with me at the top of your lungs, I prefer we keep it private, out of the hearing of the rest of Murdoch’s firm. Let’s see if we can discuss this matter calmly and come to some kind of satisfying understanding.”

  Seething, Sierra sat on the edge of the chair before the desk as Michael took the chair behind it. “I doubt that’s possible.”

  “A moment ago, you asked me who I thought I was. My question to you is this: who do you think I am?”

  Sierras shifted in her seat and sat back a little. Michael Donovan. Once again the name teased her brain. She still couldn’t place it. She retorted with the only reply she could think of. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

  “If my name doesn’t ring a bell, then perhaps my father’s name will. Connor Donovan. Or the name of his company, DEI. Donovan Enterprises International.” Her expression changed and he quirked an eyebrow. “Ah, I see that does mean something to you.”

  Good lord. No wonder his name seemed familiar. She was sitting with the scion of one of the wealthiest families in San Francisco. His father and grandfather had been millionaires. Michael had expanded the family fortune into billions with his own oversight of Donovan Luxury Hotels and Resorts. He’d accomplished all of this by his late thirties.

  And she’d just bungled an interview with him.

  For a ridiculous position which might or might not be legit. Never mind that it involved marriage, which was something Sierra avoided like the plague, under any circumstances. However ludicrous, the deal might be the only way out of her current financial straits. And she was desperate to find a way out.

  Could this day get any worse?

  “Perhaps, having now recognized my family name and its associated ventures, Ms. Callahan, you may appreciate that I have brought you here for a genuine business discussion rather than for some nefarious plot or practical joke.”

  Sierra drew a deep breath to calm herself and clear her head. “If that’s true, then I apologize for my hasty conclusions. But I fail to understand how I could fit into any plan you’ve conceived, Mr. Donovan.”

  She winced. She sounded like a schoolmarm.

  “Call me Michael.”

  Sierra swallowed once. “Michael.” She wondered why her voice had gone husky. Did his eyes darken just a little at her tone?

  “Murdoch tells me Brian Smith admires your work.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  “What my family and I need right now is someone with your branding expertise. Specifically, I need to rebrand myself with an image and identity that my father will feel comfortable with going forward.”

  Blinking, Sierra inquired, “From what to what?”

  “From man-about-town to loving, faithful husband. To a woman with impeccable personal and professional credentials. Which you have. I made sure of that.”

  Impeccable personal credentials. Sierra thought of William and his father Grant. What would they think of that description of her? She quashed her doubts. Both men were part of her past, long gone.

  Michael caught and held her gaze. In an intimate tone, he added, “How about it, Sierra? Is this something you think you can manage?”

  Suddenly it seemed as if there were a shortage of air in the room. There was no doubt about it. She might have bad instincts when it came to men, but this one was flirting. She had no experience flirting with high-powered business magnates. She said the first thing that came into her mind. “I can’t imagine you need my help, or the
help of any consulting firm, for that. I’m sure you can manage just fine on your own.”

  He laughed.

  Damn, the man was attractive.

  “Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. My rehabilitation must be accomplished in short order, and it requires the services of a professional. My father has been very ill and wants to see his sons settle down. I, as the eldest, am the current focus of most of his concerns on that front, and so it falls to me to relieve him of those worries in any way I can.”

  Sierra shook her head, finding the conversation a tad surreal. “Well, Mr. Donov—Michael,” she amended as he shot her a warning look. “Surely that’s a personal issue in which I can play no possible part.”

  That schoolmarm thing was still happening.

  Michael leaned forward in the chair behind Murdoch’s desk and placed his hands on the desk, palms down. “Wrong again. The proposal was presented in earnest.”

  She stared.

  “I think you should consider it. Although it bothers you, and I understand why, I’m aware you and your mother have some financial burdens I believe my offer would alleviate.”

  Just how deeply had the background report gone into her personal affairs? There were some things, such as certain financial and death records, that were matters of public record. But the idea that Michael Donovan had the gall and wherewithal to have such a background report performed before he’d spoken to her or given her a heads-up irked her no end.

  “My mother and I will find some other way to address our financial situation, I assure you. As I said, our circumstances are none of your business!”

  “They’ll become my business if you agree to marry me. Don’t allow pique to stand in the way of a good business opportunity. Surely you can see the advantages of my proposal.”

  “You mean to tell me you are seriously willing to pay a woman you don’t even know a million and a half dollars to marry you? Surely, if you feel you should marry to alleviate your father’s concerns, you have someone in your own social circle—a friend, a girlfriend—someone who could better serve your purpose!”

  Michael’s expression grew grim. “There is no one I care to involve in this particular business matter.”