The Inconvenient Bride by Anne McAllister

in there.
    Next to a dozen dark conservative suits and jackets and trousers were her denim miniskirts and Day-Glo tube tops. Next to his long-sleeved button-down shirts were her halter tops and camisoles. And there, at the end of a row on the floor, alongside his wing tips and deck shoes were her strapy sandals and clunky boots.
    She laughed—and felt oddly, immeasurably lighter.
    At least they weren’t only sharing sex, they were sharing a closet, too.
    She picked out a top, then changed her mind and plucked one of Dominic’s shirts off the hanger instead. She slipped it on and flapped the sleeves, then rolled them up to her elbows. It was far too broad in the shoulders and the shirt-tails hit her just inches above her knees. But buttoned, it covered more of her than Sierra normally covered—even if she left the top two buttons open. Besides, wearing it made her feel closer to Dominic. If she rubbed her cheek against the collar she could smell that same clean laundry starch smell she smelled whenever she pressed her face against his chest.
    She was going to share his shirt as well. It made her feel good.
    She shimmied into a pair of purple leggings, then stuffed her feet into her boots, and cinched her waist with a hot pink belt. Stepping back, she studied her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of the door.
    The new improved Sierra Kelly Wolfe stared back at her.
    Her lips twitched into a smile, then a full-fledged grin. She felt wonderful. Giving herself a thumbs up and one more saucy grin, Sierra headed off to work.
    Â 
    â€œWhat do you mean, you got someone else?” She stared at Strong, Finn’s office manager, her jaw sagging. It was ten minutes to nine. She’d taken the downtown subway and had run the last three blocks. She wasn’t late. But Strong had looked astonished to see her and had said Lisa was coming in. “Why would you get someone else?”
    â€œBecause Bruce called and said you were booked out.”
    â€œ What? Why would he say a thing like that?” Sierra thumped her tackle box down. “Give me the phone.”
    Furiously she punched in her agent’s number. “Bruce! It’s Sierra. What are you doing? Why did you tell Finn I wasn’t going to be here?”
    â€œBecause you booked out, sweetheart.”
    â€œI did no such thing!”
    â€œWell, not you personally,” Bruce said. “But your husband—”
    â€œWhat? Dominic called you?”
    â€œYou betcha, sweetheart. Said you were going on your honeymoon.”
    Sierra stood speechless. Finally she managed, “Honeymoon?”
    The word stopped her dead. Dominic had called Bruce? Dominic had booked her out? Dominic had said they were going on a honeymoon?
    Then why hadn’t Dominic told her?
    â€œWhat exactly did my, um, husband say?”
    â€œJust that. He called yesterday morning, looking for you. He seemed to think you had already booked out. But I told him you were working, and he asked how far ahead you were scheduled and then he said to unbook you. You didn’t want me to?”
    A part of Sierra wanted to tear Bruce’s head off. A part of her wanted to tear off Dominic’s.
    How dare he just call up and cancel her jobs?
    But another part of her—the closet romantic part—couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. Because he was taking her on a honeymoon.
    They would have more than sex and a closet and a shirt shared between them. They would have a real start to their marriage. Time for each other.
    For sex, of course.
    But for more than that. For getting to know each other. For learning to love each other.
    â€œOh,” she said and sucked in a deep breath, then let it out a little shakily. “No. That’s all right. You did…fine. Thanks.”
    â€œSo you’re out, right?” Bruce said, apparently wanting it from the horse’s mouth this time.
    â€œI’m out.”
    â€œâ€™Till