With his wide shoulders, thick arms, and strong hands, he looked like he could sling her over his shoulder and run for a mile or two. He exuded complete confidence in himself and his abilities, but confidence didn’t stop a determined killer. “Do you want me to worry about you?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
He watched the flickering candle for several moments. Then he looked up, and his voice dropped to that smooth, seductive level that gave her tingles. “On what worrying about me involves.”
Lucy had been around enough men in her thirty-four years to know exactly where this conversation was headed. A part of her wanted to go there, too. The part that was attracted to Quinn beyond rationality and reason. The part that felt his testosterone-laced voice slide across her flesh and felt his gaze touch her everywhere at once, even as he stared into her eyes. But she hadn’t allowed that part of her to act irrationally since she’d learned the hard way that sex was much better with a man she actually knew. Sure, she’d gone to bed with her share of liars and losers, but at least she’d known the liars and losers for a while first. It seemed like a small distinction, but it was an important one. “Tell me about your plumbing business,” she said, introducing a nice, safe-boring- subject.
He chuckled and told her that he mostly ran the business end of it these days, as opposed to installing toilets and running pipe. Within minutes, the subject somehow changed from plumbing to field trials. She learned he had an Irish setter that he was training to hunt, and while she didn’t give a damn about bird dogs, she was a little surprised that the conversation didn’t bore her. Perhaps it was because of Quinn’s obvious pleasure in the subject, or maybe because he looked so good talking about it. Probably both.
The waitress approached the table just as Lucy polished off her mojito. Again the waitress gave Quinn a flirtatious smile, but he hardly spared her a glance. He asked Lucy if she’d like another drink or perhaps dinner. She declined and reached for her Dolce & Gabbana snakeskin clutch. She had to write at least ten pages tonight if she was going to meet her book deadline. She pulled out a ten-dollar bill, but Quinn insisted on settling the tab. He helped her with her coat, but this time his fingers did not brush the back of her neck as they had earlier.
She tied the belt at her waist and held out her hand. “Thank you.”
Instead of taking her hand, he grasped her beneath her arm and said, “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to.” They moved to the entrance, and he dropped his hand from her and opened the door. “Where did you park?”
“About half a block down Bannock.” Cool night air touched Lucy’s face and slid down the front of her coat. She pulled the lapels close. Light from the restaurants and bars lining both sides of Eighth Street lit up patches of sidewalk as they made their way to Lucy’s car. Occasional laughter from the bars leaked out into the night and drowned out the sound of Lucy’s heels hitting the concrete. Quinn’s arm brushed hers once, but other than that brief encounter, he didn’t touch her again.
“Have dinner with me Monday,” he said as they rounded the corner.
Monday. That was two days away. In the back of her brain, she knew she had plans, but at the moment she couldn’t remember what they were. But even if she didn’t, he was coming on so strong that Lucy didn’t know whether to feel flattered or stalked. “Oh, I don’t know.” Perhaps because he’d been out of the dating pool for so long, he’d forgotten the rules of dating. Clearly rule number one was to pretend indifference until you could ascertain the other person’s feelings. “I’m not really dating right now.”
“What do you call tonight?”
“Making an exception.” She was attracted to him. There was no denying it. Just as there was no denying the guy oozed a kind of brain-numbing sexual appeal. The kind that could have a girl naked before she remembered that she was supposed to “Just say no.” They walked from beneath the bright light on the corner, and Lucy stopped by her car.
“Make another exception.”
Feeble light from a closed printer’s shop spilled across the sidewalk and onto the bottom of Quinn’s pants and the toes of Lucy’s shoes. She shook her head and opened her purse. “I don’t know you well enough to make another exception for you.”
“I can solve that problem right now.” He took her purse, snapped it closed, and tossed it on the top of her car.
She looked up into the darkened shadows of his face. “What are you doing?”
He slid his hands up her arms and across her shoulders. His fingers plowed up through her hair, and he held the back of her head. “Something I’ve wanted to do all night,” he said just above a whisper as his mouth descended toward hers. She put her hands on his chest, meaning to stop him. Then he said, “The second you walked into the bar, I wanted to kiss you,” and she forgot about stopping. He gently pulled her head backward, and her lips parted. “Starting right here. With your mouth.”
Lucy’s hands opened and closed on his sweater, over the hard muscles of his chest. His lips pressed into hers, a warm, irresistible possession. Her palms slid to his shoulders and she held on as his slick tongue entered her mouth, teasing and coaxing a response. He tasted a little like the beer he’d drunk, but mostly like a man with sex on his mind. She should have been alarmed, and she was. But mostly because she liked the taste in her mouth. Like something hot and delicious, it poured through her and warmed the pit of her stomach. Her toes curled inside her Donald J. Pliner pumps, and her fingers dug into the weave of his sweater. His hands never left the back of her head. His mouth never left hers, yet she felt the kiss everywhere. His wet mouth ate at hers, devouring all rational thought and turning on every cell in her body. She hardly knew him, but she didn’t care much as he fed her kisses that left her feeling consumed, burned alive right there on the sidewalk of downtown Boise. She moaned and leaned into him.
He lifted his face and spoke just above her moist mouth. “See me again.”
It wasn’t a question, and she nodded. “Okay.”
“Monday.”
“Okay.”
He dropped his arms and took a step back. Dazed, she stared into the variegated shadows of his face and raised a hand to the tender skin below her bottom lip where his chin had abraded her. She wondered if he’d left a mark.
“Did I hurt you?”
The little patch felt raw to the touch. “I’m okay.”
He placed his fingers beneath her chin and tilted her face toward the streetlight. His thumb brushed her jaw, and he leaned forward to lightly kiss just below her bottom lip. “I’m sorry.” She felt his whispered breath on her skin. The warmth of it brushed her chin and slid down the side of her throat. “I got a little carried away.”
She closed her eyes and waited for the return of his mouth to hers.
“Lucy.”
“Yes.”
“Either you leave now, by yourself. Or you leave with me.” He stepped back and cold air separated his chest from the front of her coat but did little to cool her heated cheeks. “What’s it going to be?”
Lucy opened her eyes and cleared her throat. “I’m leaving.” She did not believe in love at first sight. “By myself.” She left that up to romantics and romance writers like Clare. But lust…lust was different. Lust at first sight was something that Lucy did believe in. She was staring it right in the face. It heated her blood, pooled in the pit of her stomach, and made her want to follow wherever Quinn might want to take her. Instead she turned and reached for her purse.
One kiss had sucked out her rationality and reason. She was going to see Quinn again. She hadn’t meant to say yes when there were so many good reasons to say no. She didn’t really know him and didn’t know if she believed half of what he said. There was something about him that was just a little too intense. Something that told her he was moving too fast. There was something wrong. Something she just couldn’t see, but for some inexplicable reason, none of that seemed to matter.
“Good night, Quinn,” she said and moved around to the other side of her car. She glanced across the roof of her BMW at his outline against the soft glow of the printer’s shop behind him. He was tall and dark and absolutely gorgeous. With one kiss, he’d turned the “curiosity thing” into a real date.
“I’ll get in touch with you about Monday.”
