His Ex's Well-Kept Secret(34)

All around him, the airport seethed with activity as flights landed and  drivers rushed in to handle baggage for people who never paused in their  cell phone conversations.

Cameron led them toward the customs area where international flights checked in at one of two counters.

"I know her name is Sofia and that she's Ukrainian. Her file said she  was marriage-minded, just like me." Cam pulled out his phone and flashed  the screen under Quinn's nose. "That's her."

A picture of a beautiful woman filled the screen, her features  reflecting the Eastern European ideal with high cheekbones and arched  eyebrows that gave her a vaguely haughty look. With her bare shoulders  and a wealth of beaded necklaces, however, the photo of the gray-eyed  blonde bombshell had a distinctly professional quality.

Quinn felt as if he'd seen her somewhere before. A professional model, maybe?

"This is probably just a photo taken from a foreign magazine and passed  off as her. Photography like that isn't cheap. And did you pay for a  private flight for this woman to come over here?" Not that it was his  business how his brother spent his money. But damn.

Even for Cameron, that seemed excessive.

"Hell, no. She arranged her own flight. Or maybe the matchmaker did." He  shrugged as though it didn't matter, but he'd obviously given this  whole idea zero thought. Or thought about it only when he was angry with  their grandfather. "Plus she's Ukrainian." He stressed the word for  emphasis. "I figured she might be a help once you secure the Eastern  European properties. Always nice to have someone close who speaks the  language, and maybe Gramps will put me in charge of revamping the hotels  once I've passed the marriage test." He said this with a perfectly  straight face.

He had to be joking. Any second now Cameron would say "to hell with  this" and walk out. Or laugh and walk out. But he wasn't going to greet  some foreigner fresh off an international flight and propose.

Not even Cameron would go that far. Quinn put a hand on his brother's chest, halting him for a second.

"Do not try to pass off this harebrained idea as practical in any way."  They shared a level gaze for a moment until Cameron pushed past, his  focus on something outside on the tarmac.

Quinn's gaze went toward a handful of travelers disembarking near the  customs counter. One of the women seemed to have caught her scarf around  the handrail of the air stairs.

"That might be her now." Cameron's eyes were on the woman, as well. "I  wish I'd brought some flowers." Pivoting, he jogged over to a counter  decorated with a vase full of exotic blooms near the pilots' club.

Vaguely, Quinn noticed Cameron charming the attendant into selling him a  few of the purple orchids. But Quinn's attention lingered on the woman  who had just freed her pink printed scarf from the handrail. Although  huge sunglasses covered half her face, with her blond hair and full,  pouty lips, she resembled the woman in the photo. About twenty other  people got off that same plane, a disproportionately high number of them  young women.                       
       
           



       

Concern for his brother made him wary. The woman's closest travel  companion appeared to be a slick-looking guy old enough to be her  father. The man held out a hand to help her descend the steps. She was  waif-thin and something about the way she carried herself seemed very  deliberate. Like she was a woman used to being the center of attention.  Quinn was missing something here.

"She's tiny." Cameron had returned to Quinn's side. "I didn't think to ask how tall she was."

Quinn's brain worked fast as he tried to refit the pieces that didn't  add up. And to do it before the future Mrs. McNeill made it past the  customs agent.

The other women in front of her sped through the declarations process.

"So who is supposed to introduce the two of you?" Quinn's bad feeling  increased by the second. "Your matchmaker set up a formal introduction, I  hope?" He should be going over his notes for his own meeting overseas  tonight, not worrying about who would introduce his foolish brother to a  con artist waiting to play him.

But how many times had Cameron stirred up trouble with one impulsive  decision or another then simply walked away when things got out of hand,  leaving someone else to take care of damage control?

"No one." Cameron shrugged. "She just texted me what time to meet the  plane." He wiped nonexistent lint off his collar and rearranged the  flowers, a glint of grim determination in his eyes.

"Cam, don't do this." Quinn didn't understand rash people. How could he  logically argue against this proposal when no logic had gone into his  brother's decision in the first place? "At least figure out who she  really is before you drag her to the nearest justice of the peace." They  both watched as the woman tugged off her sunglasses to speak with the  customs agent, her older travel companion still hovering protectively  behind her.

"Sofia's photo was real enough, though. She's a knockout." Cameron's  assessment sounded as dispassionate and detached as if he'd been  admiring a painting for one of the new hotels.

Quinn, on the other hand, found it difficult to remain impassive about  the woman. There was something striking about her. She had a quiet,  delicate beauty and a self-assured air in her perfect posture and  graceful walk. And to compound his frustrations with his brother, Quinn  realized what he was feeling for Cameron's future bride was blatant and  undeniable physical attraction.

Cameron clapped a hand on his shoulder and moved toward the gate. "Admit it, Sofia is exactly as advertised."

Before Quinn could argue, a pair of women approached the doors leading  outside. They were clearly waiting for someone. Both wore badges that  dangled from ribbons around their necks, and one hoisted a  professional-looking camera.

Reporters?

Cameron held the door for them and followed them out.

And like a train wreck that Quinn couldn't look away from, he watched as  Cameron greeted the slender Ukrainian woman with a bouquet of flowers  and-curse his eyes-a velvet box. He'd brought a ring? With his customary  charm, Cameron bowed and passed Sofia the bouquet. Just in time for the  woman with the camera to fix her lens on the tableaux.

Quinn rushed toward the scene-wanting to stop it and knowing it was too  late. Had Cameron called a friend from the media? Had he wanted this  thing filmed to be sure their grandfather heard about it? Whatever mess  Cam was creating for himself, Quinn had the sinking feeling he'd be the  one to dig him out of it.

Cold, dry, winter wind swept in through the door and blasted him in the face at the same time Cameron's words hit his ears.

"Sofia, I've been waiting all day to meet my bride."