“Dad.” Rosie swiveled in his chair, spinning in a clumsy circle. “You’re not setting a very good example for the kid.”
He grinned at her use of Tess’s term, relieved the two women in his life had begun to reach some sort of understanding. The basis for that understanding made him a little nervous-and he was too cowardly to examine it too closely-but at least it was an improvement on that disastrous first dinner scene.
Enough of an improvement, perhaps, to try his luck with the next step. He may have been having more success recently managing his urges to take a drink, but his craving for a certain woman’s company seemed beyond his control. “I’m thinking about taking Tess out for dinner.”
Rosie halted her swiveling and frowned.
“Or not,” Quinn said.
She tilted her head, and her frown tugged to one side. “I guess it’s your turn.”
“What do you mean?”
“She brought the food last time.”
He leaned his elbows on the counter. “I’m thinking this dinner with Tess would be like…like a date.”
“Like a date?”
“Okay. A date.” His face was heating. “Which means you’re not invited.”
She shrugged. “That’s cool.”
“It is?”
“Yeah.” She resumed her swiveling. “If you leave me with a pizza. And a new video. Maybe that one about the spaceship and the pirates.”
“And Neva.”
Rosie’s skinny chest lifted and collapsed with a grown-up-size sigh. “Two videos, then.”
“That’s extortion.”
“Is that like blackmail?”
Quinn muttered an oath under his breath as he gathered the invoices and tapped their edges into a neater stack. “Tess was right to wonder about the crap they’re teaching you in school these days.”
TESS STOOD outside Quinn’s apartment door, waiting for the flutters in her stomach to quiet. She knew what was coming-a few scorching glances, some deliciously teasing verbal foreplay and then a frenzied, mindless, glorious bout of lovemaking. It would all leave her exhilarated and exhausted and struggling to resurrect clear boundaries between lust and longing.
Boundaries she was considering ahead of schedule.
This had to stop. She was a woman who knew how to handle an affair, a woman who knew how to keep things casual and make a smooth exit.
The trouble was she’d lost sight of the exit sign.
Her hand, when she raised it to knock on his door, was trembling. And her heart, when he opened his door and pulled her inside, seemed to stumble and stop.
It wasn’t the soft jazz whispering from Rosie’s purple player in the corner, or the tangled iris stalks stuffed inexpertly into a juice pitcher on the small table, or the candles burning beside them or the kiss he brushed over her knuckles that made her nerves bubble and her breath catch in a jerky sigh. It was the look in his eyes, the intense gaze that told her he had no doubts about this evening. No reasons to hide anything from her-his desire, his affection, his delight in what they would share.
And oh, she wanted that, too-that certainty that everything would work out in the end, that they could make love and remain friends. Surely that was the reason her face was so warm and her mouth was so dry.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked.
“A drink? Yes. I-Yes. Water. Please.”
She dropped her purse on the sofa and walked to the window, rubbing her hands over her arms. She thought she recognized the tune floating through the air, and bits of phrases flitted through her mind as she tried to piece together the lyrics. She focused on the words, trying to sort out the rest of the song. It was easier than trying to sort the sensations tangling and knotting inside her.
“Tess.” Quinn’s voice was a caress as he handed her the glass. He waited patiently as she sipped, and then he gently tugged the drink from her hand, placed it on the windowsill and slowly pulled her into a dancer’s embrace.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Dancing with you.” His fingers spread in a warm fan across the small of her back, urging her closer.
“Why?”
“Why not?” He rested his cheek against hers, so softly. So sweetly. “I’ve been wanting to hold you all week.”
“You can do that later. In bed.” Could he hear the panic in her voice?
“I’ve been wanting that, too. Waiting for that.” He took her hand and curled her fingers in his, against his chest. “Imagining how it will be.”
“Last time was pretty good.” She reminded herself to wrap her arms around his neck, to press her body against his, to take the lead and get things moving. But they were already moving, and she couldn’t seem to find her balance, couldn’t take control.
“Have you been waiting?” he asked, ignoring her remark.
“Of course I have.” She let out a sigh that sounded more shaky than disgusted. “Quinn, I-”
He pressed a soft, moist kiss to her temple. “Hmm?”
“I…um…” Whatever point she’d been about to make, the thought disappeared as his lips skimmed along her cheek. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing you.”
“No, you’re not.”
He smiled as he guided her through an easy turn and then rested his forehead against hers. “I’m not?”
“No.” She sighed as he touched his mouth to hers, once, twice, as light as a wish. “You’re up to something.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” She pulled away and stared at him, searching his face for some sign of the serious, cynical man she’d come to know so well. But he wasn’t here tonight.
He took her hand, the one cupped in his, and flattened it against his chest. Beneath her palm, beneath his soft sweater, his heart beat steadily. So strong, so sure.
“I want tonight to be different,” he said.
“Does this mean we’re going to eat first?”
“If you’d like.”
His beautiful mouth turned up at the edges, and his smile warmed her clear through and scared her to death. “I want to seduce you, Tess.”
She swallowed. “That would explain the flowers and candles.”
“Mere props.” His hand brushed up her back, and his fingers stroked her nape, sending ice chips and sparks skittering up and down her spine. “I’ve got more than music and mood to offer tonight.”
“I don’t need those things. I’m here. I’m ready and willing. What more do you want?”
“More.” He pulled her closer. “This. Everything we can do together. Be together.”
“I already told you,” she said in a voice gone breathless, “I’m willing to do whatever you want.”
“Be mine.” He stilled and lifted her fingers to his mouth to graze her knuckles with his lips. “For tonight. Let me make you feel as though it’s forever.”
Oh, no.
“Tess.” He released her and cradled her face in his hands. “Kiss me, Tess.”
And then she was kissing him and sliding into his steady, strong embrace, and letting go, just a little. Enjoying the moment, as much as she could. Part of her was still terrified of what he could do to her, of what he could make her feel, if she let him.
He spun the kiss out, tender and sweet, testing and savoring. Another tune began, something hinting of heartbreak with the sly purr of a throaty clarinet. On the street below, a passing car tooted its horn, and someone shouted a rough response. She curled her fingers into his sweater, holding on, holding tight. Trying to hold back, to keep a part of herself safe and secure.
The effort made her dizzy. That’s what it was-it couldn’t be a mere kiss that had left her so lightheaded.
“I think I need more water,” she said when he inched back to stare at her. “I’m feeling a little…um…”
“Ready for more?”
“There’s more?” she whispered.
He swept her into his arms and carried her down the hall. “Don’t expect this kind of a ride every time,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I know you like variety.”
“Variety?”
He gently lowered her to his bed and showed her exactly what he meant, loving her as she’d never been loved before, with his heart in his touch and his soul in his gaze. And she gave herself up to him, loving him in return.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
QUINN CLIMBED into his truck well after midnight on Wednesday, bone-tired and brain-dead. Why was it that paperwork could wear a man down like nothing else?
He’d hoped to get back home sooner than this. Tess and Rosie were both there, having themselves a “girls’ night,” whatever the hell that was. He suspected the two of them were scheming, and he was unsure about what he’d find when he arrived.
He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, digging his fingers into his nape and wondering if he could convince Tess to give him a quick massage before she left. If she did, he’d probably pass out, snoring, before she walked out the door-not the kind of impression he’d want to leave her with.
He yawned and shook his head, and then he pulled through the gate and left the motor running while he jogged back to close and lock the fencing. Strips of night fog swirled around the streetlamps, gliding on traces of the day’s lingering warmth, and a couple of cats faced off in a yowling duet somewhere near the marina. No cars passed the waterfront, no lights glowed in the black windows up and down the street or on the boats moored at the docks. Except for Quinn and the cats, everyone in this part of town had turned in hours ago.
He returned to his seat and pulled his car phone from the glove box. He’d call Tess to tell her he was on his way back and try to keep her chatting. His personal talk radio. “Hey, Tess,” he said
