I mean, she knew I was with Larry

I mean, she knew I was with Larry, and she didn't

just disappear. After Mexico, she had a chance to study

with this healer in Peru, and then there was a gathering of

spiritual types in India, and she just sort of ... didn't come

back." She shrugged, careful not to look at him. She

understood Naomi, but she knew most people didn't. "So I

guess Devon is sort of my unofficial stepsister, but it's not

legal or anything."

"I'm sure you'll understand that, at the moment, I'm

inclined to think not being related to Devon is probably a

good thing," Luke said. "You sure you don't want something

to drink?" It didn't sound like he was in a hurry to get rid of

her.

She allowed herself a tentative smile. "Water would be

nice."

"With or without carbonation?"

"Without." She wrinkled her nose. "The stuff with

bubbles tastes like medicine."

"One water, no bubbles, coming up." He disappeared out

the door, presumably on his way to the kitchen.

Cat drew a deep breath and rubbed her palms along the

sides of her jeans. Well, she'd given him the bad news, and

she was still here. He seemed more irritated than angry,

and not at all heartbroken. Apparently Devon had told the

truth about her engagement. Which opened up all sort of

interesting questions and even more interesting

possibilities.

Luke came back in, carrying a glass of water and a tray

of hors d'oeuvres.

"Are you hungry? My housekeeper left these for tonight,

and it seems a shame to let them go to waste. The shrimp

things are terrific."

Definitely not heartbroken, Cat thought, taking the glass

from him. He set the tray on the marble-topped coffee table

and sank into one of the overstuffed chairs that flanked it,

gesturing her toward a seat with one hand and reaching for

the brandy with the other. She settled uneasily on the edge

of the sofa and took a nervous sip of her water.

"Devon told me about the thing with your grandfather."

She hadn't planned on saying anything about it, but Luke

didn't seem offended.

"Did she?" He swirled the brandy in his snifter, watching

the play of firelight on the amber liquid.

"She said you had to get married before your thirty sixth

birthday, but she didn't say why."

She waited for him to tell her it was none of her

business. Or to skip that and go straight for "get out." But

he shrugged and leaned his head back against the chair, his

eyes fixed on the fire now, his expression unreadable.

"My grandfather wants me to settle down and breed two

or three little Quintains to carry on the dynasty. I made the

mistake of telling him I wasn't interested in carrying on the

dynasty, so he came up with this scheme to force my hand."

"Why thirty-six?" Cat asked. "I mean, why not thirty-five

or forty? Thirty-six just seems kind of ... arbitrary."

Luke rolled his head to look at her, his mouth twisting in

that lopsided smile again. "It doesn't seem arbitrary that

he'd blackmail me into marriage, but setting my thirty-sixth

birthday as a deadline does?"

Cat shrugged and grinned a little sheepishly. "Well, it

does all sound a little ... odd."

"Odd. Yeah, you could call it that." Luke took a sip of the

brandy and then sat forward abruptly. Setting the snifter on

the table, he picked up a shrimp. "As far as I know, the only

reason for setting thirty-six as the deadline is that it

happens to be my next birthday."

Cat nodded as if that made sense. She took another sip of

water and told herself that the idea rolling around in her

head was insane. It was one thing to think ... but she

couldn't actually say anything. Could she?

"So you ... still have this deadline hanging over your

head? He won't give you extra time because Devon

canceled the wedding?"

"Maybe." Luke scowled at a slice of prosciutto wrapped

melon. "Hard to say. He wasn't overly impressed with your

not-quite stepsister so he may cut me some slack. Or he

may not."

"When is your birthday?" Yes, that was good. She

sounded interested, casual. Not at all like someone on the

verge of losing her mind.

"Two and a half months." Luke set the melon slice down

and reached for the brandy. "Seventy-six days, to be exact."

"That's not very much time." She leaned forward and set

her glass on a coaster before clasping her hands together

and pressing them between her knees to hide their nervous

shaking.

"Not much time," Luke agreed.

"You could ... I mean... it's maybe a little odd but not

really any odder than the whole idea of ... Not that there's

anything wrong with ..."She realized she was babbling and

shut her mouth with an audible snap. Luke was looking at

her, one brow raised in question, his expression mildly

curious.

"What could I do that isn't any odder than marrying your

not-quite stepsister?" he asked.

Cat stared at him, thinking that she knew exactly how a

deer felt when it was caught in the headlights. Paralyzed,

helpless, watching doom rush toward it. Only she was her

own doom, and she was going to do it, going to say it.

"You could marry me instead."