“Why am I not surprised?”
“I don’t eat red meat.” Rosie stood guard in the wide doorway. “And I don’t like salad.”
Quinn frowned. “You love salad. And since when don’t you eat red meat?”
“Since I learned about the harmful effects of cattle on the environment. Not to mention how fattening beef can be,” the kid added with an innocent glance at Tess. “I’ve heard it can give you cellulite. Some people need to worry about that more than others.”
Tess gave her a wide smile. “Good thing I’m not one of them. I have an amazing metabolism. Not to mention an endless supply of patience.”
“You’re going to need it,” Quinn muttered as his daughter sauntered back to the front room. “Sorry about that.”
“No need to apologize. I expected a reaction of that sort.” Which was why she shouldn’t let the kid get to her, Tess reminded herself as she pulled her salad ingredients from the bag. Not her daughter, not her problem. Thank God. “I’m a potentially threatening female trespassing on her territory.”
“Could the fight for female dominance be fatal to the men in the immediate vicinity?”
“Only if they don’t do the dishes.” She opened a cabinet, searching for a large bowl and a shallow baking dish. “If I were you, I’d be more worried about the crap they’re teaching kids in school these days.”
She paused in her hunt and glanced over her shoulder at Quinn. He was studying her with his usual stony intensity, but she thought she detected a trace of something different-something softer-in his features tonight. Something twining around her heart and trapping too much inside.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him, because she didn’t want to have to answer that question herself.
“I thought it would be strange to see you here. In my place.” He pulled the remote from his pocket and set it on the counter before taking one hesitant step closer. “To be with you here, like this.”
“You did?” Heart pounding, she busied herself by turning the oven on. “Is it strange?”
He shook his head.
She carefully arranged the meat in the baking dish she’d found, excruciatingly aware of his every move, inexplicably nervous with the warmth of his gaze and the turn the conversation had taken. “If you thought this would be so strange, why did you invite me?”
“I don’t know.”
Beyond the front room, a door slammed.
“Wrong answer,” Tess said.
Wrong situation. Wrong idea, coming here. Wrong man, for her. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
But still, she wanted him. With every shaky breath she dragged in past ribs that squeezed so tightly she was sure her lungs would bruise.
Her social smile stiffened at the corners, taking on a determined edge. “You’re going to have to come up with a better reason before dessert.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AN HOUR LATER, Quinn stared at the delicious but half-eaten food on his plate. He felt as though he were a bone being tugged and gnawed at both ends by a couple of nasty-tempered terriers. Rosie had been surprisingly talkative throughout the meal, politely asking Tess all sorts of embarrassing questions. And Tess hadn’t batted an eye as she provided equally embarrassing answers.
“That’s enough,” he said after Rosie’s latest poke at their guest. “Tess and I have work to do, and you have homework to finish up.”
“Already done.” Rosie set her napkin by her plate and stood. “I’ll do the dishes.”
“Thank you,” said Tess. She lifted her plate, but Rosie ignored it, passing her by to take Quinn’s things from the table before heading to the kitchen.
“Don’t say it,” Tess said before he could apologize again.
He stewed in another awkward silence as Rosie returned to collect the serving pieces and made another trip to the kitchen, leaving Tess’s place setting behind.
Tess nonchalantly stacked her things and shoved them to one end of the table. “Is it okay if we work right here?”
“This is the best spot.” He brushed a few bread crumbs aside while she reached for her briefcase.
Rosie strolled through the room and sprawled on the sofa. A moment later, the television screen exploded with color and noise. Damn. He’d forgotten about the remote.
He glared at his daughter. “I thought you were doing the dishes.”
“I’m letting them soak.”
“Turn down the volume. Please,” he added in a tone one inch shy of a snarl.
Tess rose from her seat and carried her water glass to the kitchen.
“Maybe I should go to my room.” Rosie switched off the TV and stood, sparing him a wounded look as she straightened the cushions. “I wouldn’t want to disturb you.”
“Maybe Rosie could sit and read while we work.” Tess flashed one of her dangerously sweet smiles in Rosie’s direction as she carried the bakery box and a short stack of dessert plates out to the table. “Reading is so important to a child’s development.”
She opened the box and reached for a knife. “And I’m sure Rosie doesn’t get to spend much time with you, Quinn, considering the long hours you work. Besides, I’d hate to think I’d had a part in driving her from her own front room.” She paused and gave his daughter a terrifyingly brilliant smile. “And I’d really enjoy her company.”
Rosie stared at the cake. And then she leveled a slitty-eyed look at Tess.
Quinn’s gut twisted up so tight he feared his dinner might get stuck in some knot and sit there, festering, for the few remaining days of his life. He knew how to wedge himself, without getting clobbered, between two men facing off for a fistfight. He had no clue how to break up this female war of wills raging through his apartment without destroying them all in the process.
“Reading sounds like a good idea,” he lied. He offered his daughter a weak smile. “Grab one of your books and join us. I’ll build a fire.”
It was summer, for crying out loud, and he had no idea if he had any kindling or if a blocked flue might fill the room with smoke. On the other hand, asphyxiation might be preferable to the dessert course.
“Sounds cozy,” Tess said.
“I’ll be right back.” Rosie shot him her death stare, marched from the room and slammed her door.
He winced. “Do you think she’ll come out and have some cake?”
“Not a chance. I wouldn’t.” Tess gathered the rest of her dinner things and took them to the kitchen.
She didn’t come back.
A few seconds later, the kitchen plumbing wheezed and sputtered, and the sounds of dishwashing filled the kitchen. He stole a moment to shut his eyes and wallow in self-pity, wincing again when a cupboard door banged shut.
What a disaster. He should have figured Rosie would resent him bringing a woman-any woman-into their lives. Hadn’t her mother dumped her on his doorstep because she had a new man in her life? If Quinn were to get involved with another woman, where would Rosie end up? Who would want her?
God. His daughter probably felt like the booby prize in the life of every adult who was supposed to care for her.
He leaned forward, his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. He had no idea how to give Rosie the reassurance she needed. He’d had plenty growing up-his parents had loved and supported him in a simple, settled life. Even now, though they’d retired to Arizona and he seldom saw them, they’d stayed in touch. He knew he could count on them.
But his daughter had learned the hard way that she couldn’t count on him.
Weighed down with guilt and regret, he hauled himself out of his chair and trudged to the kitchen doorway. Tess was wiping down the counters, her lips set in a thin, grim line. She’d stuck her short, jagged hair behind her ears, but her bangs were slipping loose, one soft strand at a time, to sway with each jerky movement. A pretty smudge of pink highlighted her curved cheekbone.
Even in a temper, she was gorgeous. Tantalizing. After all that had happened this evening, with all the obstacles that lay between them, he itched to take her into his arms and-
No. Not tonight. Not in Rosie’s home.
He leaned a shoulder against the jam. “Were you like this when you were this age?”
“Worse.”
“How did your parents survive?”
She dropped the sponge in the sink and twisted the tap. “They chose not to deal with me. Or with my brother. They passed us off to the servants.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I was better off with the servants.” She squirted soap into her hands and scrubbed furiously. “My father had his work. My mother drank.”
“Then I’m twice as sorry.” He stepped into the room to hand her a towel.
She dried her hands, carefully folded the towel and draped it across the edge of the sink, avoiding his gaze. “I don’t like pity,” she said at last. “I don’t want it, especially from you.”
“Tess.” He simply surrendered to the longing, drawing her close and then rationalizing the move after he’d made it, telling himself he could offer her some bit of comfort in his embrace. And if he happened to find his own comfort-and a world of pleasure-in the contact, it was a bonus that had sprung from pure and honorable intentions. “I didn’t think you’d take my pity or my apology if I offered it,” he said. “So I won’t make that mistake.”
“Again.”
He grinned and lifted a hand to cup her chin. “Lady, you are one tough customer.”
Her answering smile looked a little wobbly around the edges. “And don’t you forget it,” she whispered.
She pulled away and moved into the front room, where she placed her things back in her briefcase and zipped it shut. “I think it’s time for me to go.”
“We have work to do.”
“It can wait.” She clenched her fingers on the top of her case and then smoothed them over its edge. “The truth is, I’m ashamed of my behavior tonight. I’ve got twenty years on your daughter, and I used every one of them against her. I didn’t fight fair.”
“She started it.”
“A handy excuse. But a mighty sorry one.” Her eyes, when she lifted them to meet his, were shadowed. “I’m not usually this awful, Quinn. But I can be, at times.”
“I’m nothing to brag about, either.”
“I know. Your reputation precedes you.”
He shook his head. “What a sorry pair we make.”
“We have no business making a pair at all.”
He panicked and scrambled for an answer, but then a depressing calm settled over him as he realized she was right. Hadn’t he just been thinking the same thing? He had no business getting
