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struggled for clarity. This was a job, and he was her employer. He had no interest in her beyond the goal he’d set for their trip. If she hoped to get through the next three weeks without throwing herself at him, she was going to have to remember that, because, phony or not, that kiss was potent. Even now, she found herself longing for a repeat performance.
    “Ready?” he asked, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.
    She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, took a steadying breath and nodded. “Okay, let’s do this thing.”
    …
    What the hell had he been thinking? Nothing at all. That was the problem. One touch of her silky skin, one dead-sexy gasp from that full mouth, and all thought had fled. If Stephanopoulos hadn’t pulled up and brought him back down to earth, he would have happily consummated his “marriage” on the front seat of the rental car in full view of passersby—if Lindy would have let him. He’d lost his focus in a big way. Not good. Focus was his edge, the quality that separated him from the pack. It allowed him to build a billion dollar empire back in Belfast that he was ready to expand globally. But before he could do that, he had one more thing to take care of.
    Stephanopoulos.
    He stalled for a few more moments, pretending to look for something in his jacket pocket to give his raging erection time to abate, then reached for the door handle. By the time he exited the car and sucked in a breath of icy mountain air, his head felt much clearer. He flicked a glance to the Porsche 911 that Nico had stepped out of, but he must have already entered the building. Good. Better that their first meeting was delayed until he was fully in control of himself. Between the shock of need from his kiss with Lindy and the fury that had coursed through him when Nico had pulled up in the pricey ride his sister’s money had undoubtedly financed, he was liable to kill him.
    From the entrance of the lodge, a porter bustled toward them with a welcoming smile. “Hello, Mr. O’Neil!” he called, popping off a snappy salute before going around to Lindy’s door and swinging it open.
    “Mrs. O’Neil.” He tipped his cap. “Welcome to The Healing Place. We’re so pleased to have you. Can I take that for you?”
    He held out a hand for the briefcase, but Owen shook his head, grabbing it himself. “No thanks, but you can get the rest from the trunk.” He opened the trunk before slipping the guy a twenty and the keys.
    “Thank you, sir. These will be in your room shortly. You can check in, straight through the front door, desk on the right.”
    Lindy folded herself back into her long, wool coat and made her way around to meet him. She slipped her arm through his with the casual grace of a longtime lover. “Shall we, darling?” Any sign of sleepiness or her mini-hangover had fallen by the wayside. She looked polished, posh and lovely.
    He swallowed a sigh of relief. She might be quirky and a bit neurotic, but when push came to shove, she had the will and ability to commit herself to the role and make this thing a success. For the first time since they’d made their unconventional bargain, he felt like they might actually pull it off. He was so close, he could almost taste the rich, heady flavor of vengeance. Even more of a reason not to complicate things with sex. Nothing would bring it all crashing down faster than a woman with delusions of love and happy-ever-after on her mind.
    With renewed resolve, he cupped the slender hand around his biceps and propelled them forward. “Certainly, dear.”
    A doorman stepped out to greet them and ushered them toward the front desk where a stunning blonde waited. “Mr. and Mrs. O’Neil, good morning! I’m Miranda. I’ll be your concierge for the next few weeks.” She held out a business card and Owen took it. “Anything you need, dial that number. I’ll make sure you get it.”
    Her penetrating green eyes stayed locked on his an instant longer than necessary,