She listened in while Rosie gave her dad a surly dose of grief and guilt and then cut in when she figured Quinn had suffered enough. “Remind him he said he’d pay me back,” she said. “And tell him it’s going to be expensive.”

The kid’s face brightened as she relayed the message, and Tess’s initial plan began to sprout multileveled additions and extravagant decor.

“He wants to know how much,” Rosie said.

“Enough to feel the pinch, but not enough to dip into your college savings.” Tess changed direction and headed toward the mall-it was the simplest solution to spending money on a tight schedule. “I’m not that irresponsible.”

Rosie extended the phone toward her. “Your turn.”

“Now what?” Tess asked Quinn. “Oh. Yeah. That’s right.” She glanced at the kid-the primary stumbling block to an affair, the complication who was about to be disposed of for an entire evening. Tess’s attitude toward her upcoming errands improved dramatically. “No, I-Look,” she told Quinn, her face heating, “we’ll discuss the details later. Got to go.”

Tess fumbled as she slipped the phone back into her tote, her pulse stuttering as she considered Quinn’s suggestion.

“What’s the matter?” Rosie asked.

“Nothing.”

“Your face is all red.” The kid’s eyes narrowed in a suspicious squint. “Looks like that ‘nothing’ means something.”

“Here we are.” Tess pulled into the compact parking area beside her favorite salon, effectively changing the subject. “Hop out.”

“This isn’t a place to buy a present.”

“No, but it’s a place to get ready for a Friday night.” A Friday night with a single father who had realized he was going to be free for the evening. A single man who had asked her out to dinner.

A gorgeous man whose low, husky-voiced invitation had included a few suggestions for what would probably follow the meal.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

TESS USHERED Rosie through the pink-trimmed doors of Shear Delight and led her to one of the styling stations. “Hey, Jana,” she said, resting a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “I brought you a new customer. This is Rosie Quinn. Any chance you can squeeze her in?”

Jana swept the floor and smiled as she gave Rosie a discreet once-over. “Are we doing a trim or a style?”

“I’m thinking a few layers.” Tess circled Rosie, imagining the sweep and fall of that thick black hair once it had been freed from its plain elastic band. “Maybe some bangs to frame her face, bring out her eyes.”

“They’re beautiful eyes.” Jana’s smile widened as she gestured toward the chair. “What do you think, pretty Rosie? Should we make you even prettier?”

Two bright pink spots flared on the kid’s cheeks. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to get my hair cut.”

“If you’re worried about your dad, don’t be,” said Tess. “I’ll call him and take care of it.”

Jana opened a magazine on her work counter and flipped to a page filled with girlish styles. “What do you think?”

“I like this one.” Rosie pointed to a photo of a young girl whose hair was caught up with loose braids.

“That would be great for the party,” Tess agreed.

“A party?” Jana fastened the drape around Rosie’s neck and gently removed the elastic. “Then we’ll have to do something extra special.”

Rosie stared at her reflection, digging into her lower lip as if it were an entree. “Would it look just like the picture?”

Tess pulled out her phone. “Quinn? We need you to make a fashion decision. Bangs and layers or just-Yeah, okay. Right.”

She dropped her phone back into her tote. “Anything you want, kid.”

Rosie’s shy smile spread until it brightened the room. “I want to look like the picture in the magazine.”

“You heard the lady,” Tess said with a wide smile of her own. “Give her the works.”

BY THE TIME Quinn limped through his apartment door at exactly eight minutes after seven o’clock, his system was buzzing on caffeine, painkillers, temper and nerves. An idiot inspector had him considering a new career, he’d twisted his knee tripping over a pipe, Tess had him wondering whether he’d be able to pay this month’s rent, Rosie was probably planning on a weeklong silent treatment and his cravings for a cold beer and hot tobacco threatened to send him to his aching, creaking knees. “Rosie?”

“In here,” Tess called.

He headed down the short hall and turned toward Rosie’s room. Tess hadn’t sounded upset the last time they’d spoken-good. Or bad, if the source of that cheery greeting had been a shopping spree he’d still be paying off when Christmas hit. “Rosie, I’m-”

He froze in the doorway, and all his aches and resentments and frustrations and despair drained through the soles of his mud-caked boots. Tess knelt on Rosie’s floor, her back to him, laying expertly folded pajamas into an open suitcase. The pajamas were neon-pink, dotted with bright palm trees and goofy flamingos, and new. Beside her lay a pair of fat, pink, pig-shaped slippers, also new.

And then his daughter stepped forward. With her hair pinned up in some sort of fancy twist and soft black wisps framing her big dark eyes, and her face alight with hope and blushing with shyness, the worst of Quinn’s day completely evaporated.

“Rosie,” he said. The word came out like a croak, and he had to pause, struggling to swallow to get the next words out. “You’re a picture.”

“Isn’t she, though?” Tess stretched toward Rosie’s bed and lifted another folded outfit off the spread. “My stylist says her bone structure is classic. She’s going to be a beauty, Quinn. You’re going to have to keep a club handy to beat back the boys when she’s ready to date. And doesn’t that outfit show off her coloring?”

“Yes,” he said, though he hadn’t been able to pry his gaze from his daughter’s face.

Tess continued to babble about the opinions of a bunch of women at some beauty parlor, but Quinn could only stare at Rosie, afraid to move, afraid to speak. He was in for it now, he thought as her eyes brimmed with tears. First, he’d been late and now he was obviously not offering the right kind of praise. And he’d wanted to, damn it. He’d wanted to say exactly what Rosie needed to hear. There she stood, looking like something out of a dream, and he desperately wanted to be whatever she needed him to be.

She rushed toward him and threw her arms around his waist and pressed one side of her face against his shirt. His arms came up, and his big, clumsy hands flexed and trembled and then settled on her thin shoulders. He glanced at Tess, awkward with panic, and then his vision blurred, and he curled around his daughter and hid his face against her soft hair. She smelled of shampoo and flowers and the stuff women smell of when they’d been hanging around each other. “Rosie,” he whispered.

“Looks like I’m finished here,” Tess said, and then she slipped from the room and quietly shut the door behind her.

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Tess paced before the tall window in Quinn’s front room, chewing on her thumb. Nasty habit, but she figured she could cut herself some slack after the afternoon she’d had. Her leisurely weekend-prep program-maintenance trim, soothing pedicure, lingerie sale browsing-had turned into a frenzied preteen makeover. Fun but exhausting. And a bit nerve-racking, considering the preteen involved wasn’t her own.

She’d already decided that if Quinn complained about the afternoon’s expenses, she’d offer to lump that discussion in with their next battle over specs. It was about time to toss him a negotiation point. Or two.

“Time to go,” she said as Quinn and his daughter entered the room. “It’s okay to be fashionably late, but if you don’t get started soon you’ll edge into the rude zone. Got the present?”

“Wait’ll you see it, Dad.” Rosie dashed down the hall.

“Don’t forget to sign the card,” Tess called after her. “And write a little note, off to the side, not just your name.”

Quinn slid his hands into his pockets and stood where he was, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Well.” Tess cleared her throat and gestured toward the table. “There’s the invitation. You’ll need it for the address.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. The shopping part-not the kid.”

“I hope she behaved.”

“She behaved the way she’s supposed to. Like a ten-year-old girl with a lot of problems.” Tess shrugged. “They’re not my problems. I’m not the one who has to live with her.”

“Tess.” Rosie raced back into the room holding a big card and a small package. “I don’t know how to attach the card to the box.”

“With tape. Stick it to the bottom of the box.”

“Just a second.” The kid took off toward her room again.

“Where would you like to go to dinner?” Quinn asked.

Tess swept back her bangs, hiding her nerves. “I may have exaggerated my responsibility with your budget. The college savings are still intact, but you can’t afford dinner.”

“Can I afford a pizza?”

“How about I whip up something quick and easy at my place?”

“Okay,” he said, his gaze smoldering. “I’m easy. Whipping sounds good.”

TESS CURSED the tremor in her hand as she lit the single taper in the middle of her intimate table setting. She never got nervous fixing dinner for a man-and she definitely didn’t get nervous merely thinking about it.

Maybe it wasn’t the dinner, she thought as she waved the match to extinguish the flame. Maybe it was what she knew would come after the main course.

She pressed a hand to her stomach to soothe the flutters of anticipation-and nerves, damn it. What was it about Quinn that cut through her composure and set her knees knocking?

After she’d had her way with him, she’d put him in his place and keep him there. She’d been too understanding lately. Too cooperative. Too sympathetic over his problems with his daughter and his worries about his crew. Too eager to compromise and avoid any unpleasantness between them that might add to his troubles. Just look at the fabulous dinner she’d tossed together so he could relax and unwind at her home instead of having to take her out on the town.

And what a dinner it would be. She returned to her kitchen to stir her soup and sniffed the rich aroma of caramelized onions and herbs. Perfect. And peeked at the marinated pork tenderloin roasting in the oven before lowering the temperature to warm. Excellent. And admired the spiral pattern of the potato gratin cooling on the rack. Gorgeous. Simple food, basics she’d found in her refrigerator, done up in style.

Too bad she was too nervous to consider eating a bite.

Her stirring spoon clattered to the floor when she heard the knock on the door. He was earlier than she’d expected. Eager for the evening to start, no doubt. She paused by the little mirror in her

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