Start Me Up
Start Me Up
Victoria Dahl
Lori had always planned to get out of tiny Tumble Creek, Colorado, but when her late dad left her his beloved auto body shop, she'd stayed. Now, according to her crazy best friend, Molly, what Lori needs is some excitement, in the form of hot, no-strings-attached sex…and lots of it.
Quinn Jennings has buildings on the brainnot love and romance. A serious architect, he's delighted to discover that Lori is willing to skip dating protocols and head straight for the sheets. And aided by the steamy books on Lori's bedside table, he's busy indulging both of their wildest fantasies. But when life in Tumble Creek takes a dangerous turn for Lori, Quinn's protective instincts kick in.
Suddenly he cares. More than either of them ever expected…
Praise for works by VICTORIA DAHL (#ulink_a76ab51a-15af-5ba5-b22a-4fbbcb0d0fc2)
“Dahl delivers a fun, feisty and relentlessly sexy adventure in her first contemporary…. Dahl smartly wraps up a winning tale full of endearing oddballs, light mystery and plenty of innuendo and passion.”
— Publishers Weekly on Talk Me Down
“Sassy and smokingly sexy, Talk Me Down is one delicious joyride of a book.”
—Connie Brockway, New York Times bestselling author
“Dahl brings a highly sensual, emotional and moving story to the pages with aplomb. Her clever plotting and engaging characters drive the story forward at a fast clip, and the depth of emotions will keep you enthralled.”
— Romantic Times BOOKreviews on A Rake’s Guide to Pleasure
“All I can say is that by the end you’ll really love Emma. And Somerhart, too. And you’ll be rooting for them to make it, to bring together their complicated, somewhat demented love affair and turn it into marriage.”
— New York Times bestselling author Eloisa James on A Rake’s Guide to Pleasure
“Dahl debuts with a sizzling love story peopled with characters you come to adore…she creates a natural conflict between her three-dimensional lovers and keeps the pages flying with a strong pace and powerful sensuality.”
—Kathe Robin, Romantic Times BOOKreviews, on To Tempt a Scotsman
Start Me Up
Victoria Dahl
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is for Bill. I’m determined to make you laugh
out loud with this one, but I’ll love you even if you don’t.
Acknowledgments (#ulink_0610d035-cc6a-5de7-ae32-bfdf4f3306be)
I have to thank my family first. Thank you so much for putting up with a writer who’s been on multiple deadlines for over a year. I’m sorry about the messy house. It will get better next year. I’m almost sure of it. You make me proud.
Thank you to my wonderful editor, Tara Parsons. You have an appreciation for both Audis and backhoes, and that’s priceless. Thanks for getting me. And thanks to my agent, Amy. I couldn’t have done it without you.
And to all my wonderfully supportive writer friends—Jeri Smith-Ready, Farrah Rochon and Kristi Astor, to name a few—your support is invaluable. Jennifer Echols, you know how awesome you are, but I’ll tell you again. You rock.
Last, I want to thank my readers. Thank you for making all my work worthwhile. I’m honored.
CONTENTS
Cover (#u82038948-753e-5e94-a241-f6e536e54281)
Praise for works by VICTORIA DAHL (#ulink_aa3893b0-0ab0-5682-83f2-c20ecb13ca4a)
Title Page (#u6ab3d23e-91eb-5010-89e0-8c625f54977e)
Dedication (#uba71c584-b3f3-574d-815c-2cd6163c3ffa)
Acknowledgments (#ulink_7431f4da-f932-5af7-b480-58b6218de832)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_654f85ef-972a-527e-ace6-00992ef0efb3)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_9c69b4be-9705-534e-8d83-fb8908a3158e)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_ae7671f1-2bde-5109-9563-9ce80c571ea0)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_b4629d81-85f6-5a06-b5a3-6350d32d8efe)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_e1d2ea62-6d6e-5c23-bacb-a2bef7f6b14d)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_0f92065a-73a2-5e74-aee6-4a545d552faf)
“B ABY , THAT IS one fine ass.”
Lori Love ignored the purring voice and gave the mounting bolt on the transmission of the old Ford one last turn, laying all her weight against the wrench.
“Oh, yeah. Work it, darlin’.”
When the bolt felt tight enough, Lori wiggled the body part in question and tossed a grin over her shoulder toward the blonde behind her.
Her best friend, Molly, leered, eyebrows raised in suggestive appreciation. “Do fries go with that shake, girl?”
Lori stood and set the wrench on her tool chest. “I had no idea this look got you so hot.” She smiled up at Ben Lawson, standing behind Molly and very pointedly looking at the ceiling. “You should get some coveralls, Ben. Molly likes them.”
He rolled his eyes. “Are we done talking about Lori’s ass yet?”
“Oo, I don’t know,” Molly cooed. “It’s so cute and perky. Doesn’t it just make you think about—”
“You,” Ben interrupted, “are the strangest girlfriend I’ve ever had.”
Lori nodded in agreement. “She’s a strange girl, all right, but then you’ve been sheltered in this small town. Now, Moll, did you come here just to ogle my bottom, or is there something else I can do for you today? Lube job, maybe?”
They both descended into snorting laughter while Ben resumed staring at the ceiling in disgust. He was slightly more mature than the two of them put together. Good thing, considering he was the chief of police.
“I actually stopped by for a different reason,” Molly answered. “Quinn’s finally acknowledged that he can’t fix his backhoe. He needs help. I’m hoping you’ll stop by his place.”
Thinking of Molly’s older brother, Lori frowned. “Quinn’s an architect. Why in the world does he own a backhoe? And why would he think he can fix it himself?”
Molly waved a hand. “You know those geniuses. Think they can do anything. I told you he’s building a house up on the pass, right? His backhoe won’t start and he needs to finish the groundwork before winter. He’ll start the real building next spring.”
“Wait a minute. You mean he’s building it himself? I assumed you meant he was having a house built.”
“Nope. He says it helps him relax. Who the hell relaxes by building a whole house? Could he be more of an overachiever?” When Molly looked as though she was going to get riled up, Ben tugged a lock of her blond hair between his fingers.
“Some of us don’t have your artistic abilities, Moll.” He flashed her a private smile that relaxed her immediately.
Molly wrote erotic fiction for a living, which used to cause stress between the couple, but apparently Ben had come to terms with her job. Very pleasant terms. Lori managed to hide her envy by turning away to straighten up her tool chest. Not that she was interested in Ben. She just wanted some hot sex of her own. Looking down at her striped gray coveralls, she didn’t feel very hopeful about her prospects.
“I’ll run up to Quinn’s this week,” she offered. “Where is he, exactly?”
“His driveway’s right at the snow gate on the Aspen side. Turn left and the site’s about a quarter mile in.”
“Nice,” Lori breathed. Quinn must have been doing really well with his architectural firm. Only thirty-four and building his own mountain home with the gobs of money he’d made designing mansions for billionaires.
After arranging to meet Molly at The Bar on Friday, Lori got back to work on the Ford. She enjoyed fixing cars, she really did. Her father had put her to work on an engine when she was just six years old, and she’d been doing it ever since. But she’d never planned on working in her dad’s garage— her garage now—her whole life. No, that hadn’t even been a possibility when she’d left for college at eighteen.
But now it was all hers: the garage, the tow truck, the snowplows, the old dump out back. A bounty of unwanted mechanical glory.
Lori sighed and slammed down the hood of the car. Life wasn’t fair, but she was a big girl…. Well, actually she was way too short for her taste. Five-two and petite, which posed a problem when bossing around drivers and mechanics. But she was her father’s daughter, stubborn and realistic and not inclined to whine. So after his accident, she’d left college, painted all the trucks lavender, and taken control of the business.
When Lori turned the key in the ignition, the Ford roared to life, bringing a sad smile to her face. This was her job now, and she was good at it, and that was that.
She backed the car out and parked it in the gravel lot, then noticed that Ben was walking toward her. Alone.
“Hey,” she called as she jumped out. “Did you lose your girlfriend?”
“No, she’s over at the market. I actually need to speak with you about something, but I can come back tomorrow if you like.”
“No, this is fine. No problem. What’s up?” Once she’d locked up the car and met his eyes, he tilted his head toward her house.
“Why don’t we go inside and sit down?”
“Are you kidding?” she asked with a sharp laugh. Her dad was gone, her mom and grandparents long dead. A cousin lived somewhere in Wyoming, but if Lori was his emergency contact his life was even sadder than hers. She raised her hands in confusion. “Did you find out about that bank I knocked over? Because that was years ago. Childhood high jinks.”
Ben pressed his lips together and stared, so Lori just shrugged and walked toward the house. Maybe one of her mechanics had been caught stealing cars or something. When she let him through the front door, Ben gestured toward the couch.
“Oh, come on,” Lori scoffed.
“I think you should sit down.”
“Ben, this is ridiculous. Just spill it.”
He finally gave in. “All right. I’ve been looking into your dad’s case…”
Lori’s heart flipped over and made an awkward landing. “What case?”
He glanced determinedly toward the ratty couch again, then seemed to shrug into practical mode and plowed straight ahead. “The police station wasn’t run with particular efficiency ten years ago when your dad was assaulted. Though the incident report was closed out, no one sent it to records. I’ve been slowly going through all the old files, trying to get everything where it should be. I ran across your dad’s file last week.”
Wishing she were at least standing next to the couch so she could lean against it, Lori forced her mouth to work. “And?”
“And I’m not entirely sure about what happened that night.”
“It was a bar fight,” she said firmly. “Just a bar fight like the other dozen he’d started in his life. And bad luck he hit his head on that rock.”
Ben put his fists on his hips and looked down at the scuffed linoleum for a moment before he met her gaze again. “Lori, there’s a possibility it may have been deliberate. I’m going to reopen the case. Quietly.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. Why would you do that?”
“I’m suspicious. That parking lot wasn’t exactly littered with big chunks of granite. And if someone picked up a rock and hit your dad in the head, that’s assault with a deadly weapon. And now that he’s gone, maybe manslaughter or…”
Murder. He didn’t say it, but Lori heard it anyway. Shaking her head in slow denial, she moved into the kitchen and put her hands carefully on the counter. The cupcakes she’d made yesterday glowed bright pink in the afternoon light, mocking the slow, bad turn her day had taken.
Ben continued, and the hesitation cleared from his voice as he took on his chief of police mien. “If he had died at the time of the injury, there would’ve been an examination, an autopsy. Careful evidence collection. But the focus was on saving your dad’s life. Still, the scene photos don’t show any other rocks around. The only object that could’ve caused the skull fracture is that one piece of granite and we already know it had his blood on it. It seems a bit too pat to me to think he just happened to have fallen square onto that rock.
“There were no defensive wounds on his hands, no evidence of a fistfight. And he wasn’t found near his truck or even near the door of the bar. The back of the parking lot is an odd place to have a fistfight. Usually people just stumble out the front door and go at it.”
“I suppose,” she muttered, but she shook her head all the same.
“His autopsy reports are a bit of a mess with the healed fractures and surgical scar tissue, but I’m going to send the report off to Denver to get a second opinion. Just to see if there’s any confirmation of my thoughts.”
Lori tried to clear the sudden tears from her throat. “What is it you think happened?”
“I’m not sure.” Ben sighed. “But there’s a good possibility that someone attacked your dad from behind. Maybe when he was turning away from an argument, or maybe he didn’t even know someone was there. But that’s not much to go on. No one at the bar admitted to seeing anything after your dad left. He didn’t argue with anyone while he was there, at least not according to the notes. I’m going to have to conduct new interviews, but I’d like to keep it quiet as long as possible.”
“I…Okay. What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing,” Ben answered quickly. “You don’t need to do anything right now. Like I said, I want to keep this quiet. I’ll just be making some inquiries, trying to fit the pieces together. But I didn’t want you in the dark about my suspicions.”
“He’s dead now,” Lori murmured. “It doesn’t matter.”
But of course it did.
L ORI COULDN’T SLEEP that night. She tossed and turned for hours. By four-thirty she felt as if she might implode, as if all the thoughts swirling through her head would finally pull her in on herself and—poof!—she’d be gone. Her father, her life, the things she’d wanted for herself…
She couldn’t take it anymore, so she got up, showered and headed for the garage to change out the fuel pump on Mr. Larsen’s Chevy.
The air outside was perfect and crisp, but Lori only cracked open the garage door a few inches. She didn’t want to take any chances with curious bears. Especially if they were looking for breakfast.
As she worked at wrestling the old pump out, her thoughts became clearer and slightly more painful.
What if Ben Lawson was right? What if her father had been deliberately hurt? His skull fractured, his brain damaged, his life taken away long before he’d died…What if someone had done that on purpose?
She grabbed a rag and wiped sweat—or tears—off her face, then bent back to her task.
She hadn’t complained about the turn her life had taken. Accidents happened. She’d given up on college and travel and dating, but she’d done it for her father, willingly. He would have done as much or more for her. So, no, she hadn’t complained about what she’d given up.
But giving up something was very different than having it taken away.
Her teen years had been filled with books and hopes and a steely-eyed determination to get into the college of her dreams. And she’d done it. She’d gone off to Boston College, and her father had been so proud. Then he’d been hurt, and she’d left that behind, but she was beginning to realize she’d left behind a lot more than her education.
Her twenties had revolved around caring for her dad and keeping his business going to pay for it. Her life had been spent in coveralls and boots, T-shirts and jeans. Any love affairs had been brief and unexciting.
But lately, even before Ben’s news, she’d been restless. She couldn’t just leave Tumble Creek. Couldn’t hop on a plane and start college again. There were simply too many bills that had piled up over the years. Caring for a semivegetative relative wasn’t cheap.
So she couldn’t simply walk away and start over. But she could change her life in smaller ways, and something inside her was calling on her to take action. Perhaps this was just a natural consequence of nearing thirty. But that restless feeling had rapidly grown more intense since Ben had dropped by.
Noticing that the sunlight was now bright yellow instead of pale pink, Lori glanced up at the clock. Seven-thirty. When she raised the garage door the rest of the way, the spectacular clatter echoed through the high-ceilinged garage. She strolled out into the sun and bright birdsong, but the gravel of the lot crunched and popped beneath her boots, distracting her from the beauty of the morning. She thought mournfully of the red polish she’d painted onto her toenails the night before and sighed.
Maybe she should try another fling.
Or maybe she should just order another box of books from Molly’s publisher.
Either way, after she stopped by Quinn’s lot tonight, she’d come home to take a bath and read a dirty story. Then maybe she’d think about going shopping for a pair of open-toed heels that would click against the ground instead of thud. She jogged back in to call Molly.
As she grabbed the phone, her thoughts were interrupted by a startling chirp from the receiver in her hand. She nearly dropped it, which would have pissed her off immensely. As it was, she’d had to replace two phones already this year. One had fallen victim to the big, clumsy hands of her least-favorite plow driver. The other had somehow gotten itself mixed up with a big tub of lube, which wasn’t nearly as fun as it sounded. Not for a phone anyway.
“Love’s Garage,” she snapped into the phone.
“Ms. Love?”
“Yes.”
“Hello! This is Christopher Tipton!” Chris always announced his name as if she’d won a prize.
Lori slumped onto a stool. “Hey, Chris.” She’d known him since grade school, but she had a feeling he wasn’t calling to reminisce. “What’s going on?”
“I was just wondering if you’ve had time to think over selling that parcel of land we discussed in February.”
That parcel of land, he said, as if it hadn’t been everything her dad had ever dreamed of. “Look, Chris, I’m sorry. It’s only been a few mon—” Actually, that wasn’t true anymore. It had been a whole year since her dad had died. Jesus. When had that happened?
“I know it’s difficult to consider. And I know it hasn’t been that long for you, but I think you’ll find that Tipton & Tremaine has put together a very generous offer—”
“I just…I need more time.”
He sighed. “I understand. Just promise you won’t consider any other offers without contacting me first. I can assure you that we want to preserve the natural beauty of the place. We’re not talking a big two-hundred-house development here. Just a small group of sportsmen’s cottages along the river.”
“Yeah, I get it,” she muttered, thinking about the kind of “cottages” his firm usually built. Something more along the lines of a grand hunting lodge that could easily house seven families. Or one enormously rich one. It had always struck her as funny that rich families needed so much space for their one-point-eight children.
“I won’t consider anything without calling you. Promise.”
“Okay, I’ll—”
“Bye.” Lori hung up and kicked the steel beam in front of her, glad she wasn’t wearing heels now.
J EEZ L OUISE , Lori thought as she turned onto Quinn Jennings’s so-called driveway; it looked more like a dirt trail. He really was roughing it up here. She’d never have even slowed if not for the Jennings’s Lot sign tacked to a fence post. The correct placement of the apostrophe made her smile.
Her truck scraped beneath the low branches of lodgepole pines and stirred up the scent of the green aspen. Even in August the air was crisp and cool in the shade. Boy, it would be cold up here in winter. Did he plan to stay year-round?
When she finally emerged from the trees, Lori felt a little shock. She hadn’t known what to expect, but it hadn’t been this. A tiny log cabin stood at the edge of a meadow blooming with wildflowers. The music of running water floated on the air, audible even over the heavy sound of her motor. It seemed more likely she’d find a herd of elk here than a construction site.
But when she drew closer, the backhoe appeared behind the cabin, frozen like a strange giraffe lowering its head in defeat. Lori drove toward it, not even noticing Quinn until she’d parked and gotten out.
He stood at a drafting table set up on the tiny back porch of the cabin, facing the sun-drenched trees to the east. It was no surprise that he didn’t look up when Lori slammed the door of her truck. Quinn had a singular skill of tuning out the whole world when he was working on something important to him. This was clearly important.
“Hey, Quinn,” she called anyway.
“Hey,” he answered, without even a glance.
She smiled at his bent head, noticing the glint of sun against his light brown hair. “I’m just going to check out the backhoe for you.”
“Sure.” He frowned ferociously at something on the big drafting sheet and began to draw. Hunched over like that, he looked shorter than his nearly six feet, but his shoulders seemed wider than she remembered. His hands…Well, his hands moved with that elegant precision she’d noticed even when she was a nerdy teenager.
Lori grinned at the sight of those hands moving over the paper. The nice thing about Quinn was that she could probably stand there for an hour watching him, and he’d never notice. Lovely man. No idle conversation to disturb her daydreaming. Still, she was going to lose her light if she didn’t hurry.
After tucking a brown curl behind her ear, she climbed up into the machine. It was an old model—a strange lemon color, freckled with rust spots and complete with a small dozing shovel on the front. Quinn must have picked it up from one of his contractors for a steal. And what man wouldn’t want to own a big ol’ construction machine? Lori didn’t even need one, but she was tempted to ask if she could borrow it when Quinn was done. Surely she could find some stuff to move around the junkyard behind her house.
The key was already in the ignition, so Lori turned it. There was a faint electric hum, but nothing else. She let out a breath at the sound. Good, this was probably something she could fix. If it had been a problem with the hydraulics, Quinn would’ve had to call in someone more expensive.
She tried again, listening more closely. It was almost certainly the starter, and hopefully this model had an electric starter and not one of those air-start systems. If it was an air-start, she’d have to refer him to a diesel specialist after all. Lori jumped down to take a look.
Half an hour later, she wiped her hands on a rag and spent a few minutes writing down part numbers and brands. She could fix this, no problem.
“Quinn, I’m going to have to order two parts, but I should have them in a couple of days. I’ll be back then.”
“Great,” was his only response, though he followed it up with a hurried, “Thanks.” The sun was still slanting across the clearing, throwing Quinn even deeper in shadow.
Lori shook her head. Not one of her other customers would say “great” without even asking the price. Then again, she didn’t usually work on the Aspen side of the pass.
She allowed herself one last glance at him, watched him rub his thumb thoughtfully across his bottom lip for a few moments and then Lori headed home.
Q UINN J ENNINGS blinked from his thoughts about angles and sunlight and shadows. He glanced around in confusion, then looked down to the cell phone barely hanging on to the edge of the drafting table. Nope, no call coming in. He looked around one more time, wondering what had changed. Then he realized what had distracted him: the silence.
The backhoe stood alone, still frozen. Lori Love had been here, climbing over the machine and making a racket. She must’ve left at some point, and Quinn was pretty sure he hadn’t even said goodbye. Wincing in guilt, he backtracked his memory. She’d said something about ordering parts, so she’d be back in a few days and he’d be sure to offer her a coffee or something civilized like that.
Just then the setting sun broke through the pines, streaking past the quaking aspen leaves and casting mottled, moving shadows against the big boulder that marked the eastern edge of the clearing. That was exactly what he’d been looking for, just that tone and timing of light.
Quinn threw off any thoughts of visitors and began sketching furiously, capturing his new vision for the entry of the house. Losing track of the world around him was a high price to pay, but it always got Quinn just what he wanted. At work, anyway. And if he concentrated hard enough, he never had to think about the rest of his life, or lack thereof.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_a0702b9d-7780-522c-b783-9d3f53e79ca9)
The man—she didn’t know his name and didn’t want to—roughly tugged her pants to her knees and pushed her facedown over the table.
“Don’t say a word.”
She nodded and bit her lip in desperate anticipation. When his calloused, unfamiliar hands touched her hip, she jumped and gasped. The tension was already winding tight within her, a serpent looking for release.
Holding her steady with one hand, the man pushed the head of himself against her opening.
No stroking, no preparation. He just guided himself close and shoved hard and deep. It didn’t matter. She was already wet.
Marguerite screamed.
L ORI SET THE BOOK DOWN with a guilty glance around her. Joe hadn’t returned from his towing run yet, but she still felt bad because she was sitting in Love’s Garage, surrounded by her father’s tools, and totally aroused from reading a dirty book. Sure, it was a Saturday, but this wasn’t even borderline professional behavior. She should’ve at least retreated to her house. Maybe to the bedroom. She eyed the clock. Three hours more to go. Although she was the boss….
The phone rang, cutting off any chance she could slip off to her bedroom for some personal time. “Hello?” She tossed the compilation of erotic stories onto the worktable.
“Lori, it’s Ben.”
“Hey, Ben.” He was calling to tell her he’d been wrong. He must be.
“I know I must have shocked you the other day. Are you doing all right?”
“Sure, I’m fine.” Just tense and irritable and restless.
“Good. I’m still waiting on more information. Old cases take a backseat in the state system, of course. But in the meantime, I wondered if you could answer a few questions.”
Lori blinked. “Um, sure. But I wasn’t here when the acci—when he was hurt.”
“I just mean some general thoughts. Did your dad have any enemies? I don’t mean Capulet-Montague kind of stuff. Just some guy he never got along with. Maybe a garage owner in Grand Valley he was stealing business from. A customer accusing him of fraud or theft.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
“A woman? Was he dating someone, or maybe a few someones?”
She blinked again, struck by how strange the idea was. “Not that I know of.”
“Okay. That’s fine. It’s nothing urgent. I just want you to keep these questions simmering in the back of your mind. Write down anything you think of. Any reason at all someone could’ve been after your father. Money and passion are the two most common denominators in these situations.”
“Yeah, but…” Lori closed her eyes and rubbed her free hand over her face. “Ben, I’m sure it was just some stupid barroom brawl. Nobody wanted anything from him. He didn’t have anything.”
“You’re probably right, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t consider every angle. I don’t mean to upset you—”
“No, I’m sorry. I can’t say I’m happy about this, but it means a lot that you’re looking into it. I’ll help any way I can.”
“Thanks, Lori. Call me if you think of anything, or if you just need to talk, all right?”
Just after she hung up, Joe roared into the lot with a suddenness that made Lori jump. Dust floated up in his wake while she rubbed her eyes.
“Nothing serious?” she called hoarsely when he descended from the cab.
“Flat tire. Nobody can change a flat tire anymore, you ever notice that?”
Yes, of course she’d noticed, and had said as much the first thousand times they’d had this conversation. Still, the auto clubs paid them thirty dollars a pop to fix a flat, so the decline of manly civilization was just fine with Lori. Joe inclined his head toward the phone.
“Another run?”
“No, just a personal call.” She eyed him as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped sweat from the nape of his neck. He looked old, suddenly. He’d been older than her father by a few years, but they’d been as close as brothers. And Joe had been like a second father to her.
He’d worked in the garage since before Lori was born. But he’d been more than an employee.
Joe had picked her up from school countless times, applauded her achievements, lectured her about boys and drinking. She wouldn’t have been able to care for her father if Joe hadn’t been there to pick up the slack in the garage. She hadn’t been able to pay him enough for essentially running the garage for those first few years, but Joe had never complained. Not once.
And he’d known her dad better than anyone.
“Joe, can I ask you something?”
He shrugged and dropped into a chair. “You know you can ask me anything. Shoot.”
“I’ve been thinking about my dad lately. I wasn’t here those last few months before his accident. What was his life like after I left?”
Joe shrugged. “Same as always, really. Work. Fish. Grab a beer.”
“Was he dating anyone?”
She must have surprised him. Joe tucked his chin in. “Dating? Nothing serious that he ever mentioned. There was a waitress over in Grand Valley he stepped out with sometimes, even when you were still here. A woman over in Eagle he saw once or twice. But he was a loner. After your mom left…” He squinted up at her. “He wasn’t much on relationships after that.”
Lori cringed. Her mother had run off when Lori was five. She’d left both of them behind and never looked back. She’d died about eight years ago from liver failure. Hepatitis C. So Lori was officially an orphan.
“She wrote me once,” Joe said, shocking Lori so much that she gasped.
“What?”
“Your mom. She wrote to me. You were probably fifteen by then. She wanted to know how you were doing.”
“But…why did she write to you? ”
Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his knees and stared at the floor. “She was too ashamed to write to your dad, maybe. I wrote back to tell her how amazing you were. Smart and hardworking. I never heard nothing after that.”
Lori cleared her throat. “You don’t think she ever got in touch with my dad?”
His eyes rose quickly to meet hers. He held her gaze for a long moment. “He never said anything about it.”
“Yeah.” Nodding, she kicked the cement with her boot. “I guess she never did. Thanks for telling me, Joe.”
“You bet, darlin’. Anything else you want to know?”
“No. I’m gonna head up to Quinn Jennings’s place. If there aren’t any calls in the next thirty minutes, you can go. Just forward the phone to my cell.” She grabbed her book to head for the door, but Joe cleared his throat and stopped her.
“Say, before you go…Have you thought anymore about selling your dad’s lot?”
Lori managed not to groan. What was it with that piece of land? Sure, it bordered a good stretch of the river, but it didn’t hide access to an old silver mine. Or maybe it did. “Joe, I’m sorry. I’m just not ready. I know it’s been a year now, but my dad was so happy when he bought it. You know what I mean.”
Joe held up his hands and offered a sad smile, the sympathy in his eyes a familiar comfort. He’d made an offer on the land soon after the accident when he’d realized she was having financial problems, and if she was going to sell to anyone, it would be to Joe. He loved that place and fished there all the time, even though his fishing buddy was gone.
She joined him sometimes, and it was as if her father was there with them, too. Just like the old days. Her two favorite people in the world.
Joe’s scarred fingers closed over her elbow. “No pressure, Lori. You just say the word when you’re ready to discuss it. Say, whatcha reading there?” He stood, starting to reach for the book, but Lori danced out of his way.
“I’ll see you Monday!” she called, grabbing her keys to head for Quinn’s cabin.
After rolling down the window and speeding out of the lot, Lori shoved a CD into the player and turned it up way too loud. The wind wreaked havoc on her hair, but for once, Lori didn’t care. The loud music and the beautiful day chased away her ghosts, mostly because she wanted them to.
Whatever had happened in her life, whoever she was, she needed to be free of it, just for a moment. Her hair, the one thing she loved about her looks, bounced and writhed in the wind. The music thrummed a sexy beat through her body. And the cool air made her cheeks glow pink.
She was twenty-nine years old. An orphan, sure. A single woman with no prospects. But she was hardly dried up and done. What she needed was a distraction.
Ben had stirred up dusty memories, and if she didn’t distract herself, she’d find herself living with ghosts. It wouldn’t be a long trip for her. She was living in her dad’s house, driving her dad’s trucks, doing her dad’s work. If she wasn’t careful, she’d turn into a fifty-nine-year-old man with a salt-and-pepper beard and hairy arms.
She needed a distraction. She needed to be a girl. No, not a girl. A woman. A fling would offer that much at least, and give her something pleasant to think about while Ben screwed with her life.
Or would it? She’d had casual sex before, and fireworks hadn’t exactly exploded behind her eyes. Firecrackers, maybe, down a little lower. Pop! And that was it. Night of adventure over. What the hell kind of distraction would that be? She needed… more.
In all honesty, Lori had never been as aroused in a man’s arms as she was reading the erotica that Molly had her hooked on. And despite the rumors around town, she wasn’t the least bit interested in women. So what did that mean? Did she need more…kink? Did she want a stranger to treat her with rough force like that last story she’d read?
“God, I don’t think so,” she muttered to her steering wheel.
Did she want to be tied up, spanked, or passed around a werewolf pack? Because she’d liked all those stories, too. Laughter bubbled up and made her snort. That werewolf fantasy would be a hard one to pull off. She’d have to troll through the forest in high heels, just praying one of the scruffy campers was actually a raving beast.
Her truck roared as it strained up the steep climb to the summit, but Lori barely noticed the impressive view. She was too busy analyzing her sexual needs.
No werewolves then, but what about all the other stuff?
She hadn’t been at college long enough to go out with more than one boy, no time for experimentation, and since then she was just…dating. Barely. Her frustrated groan broke in two when she hit a rut in the road. Dating. She’d only met a few men she’d even wanted to sleep with and couldn’t imagine asking any one of those guys to spank her.
Though Jean-Paul probably knew how to spank a girl. He’d probably done it dozens of times. Maybe she should call him. Maybe—
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Lori growled. She didn’t even want to be spanked. She just wanted to have a spectacular orgasm or two. She wanted spark and sizzle and a whole damn conflagration.
Her life was about to speed past thirty, but a real relationship was out of the question. She might not have a plan to escape her life, but she wasn’t ready to surrender to it completely. Someday she would leave Tumble Creek, find a way to move on. But for right now she wanted…more. Any excuse not to think about her problems.
Instead of worrying, she wanted to be glowing, moaning, panting. Wet. Just like the women in those books.
New shoes definitely wouldn’t do that for her, but it would be a start. A signal that she was ready and willing. And maybe, just maybe, the perfect stranger would come along and coax her to slip those shoes off. Or, better yet…order her to keep them on.
Lori gunned the engine and climbed toward the sky.
“H I , Q UINN ,” a voice said from right beside him. Much as he wanted to keep taking notes for his latest idea, Quinn resolutely put the pencil down and turned toward his visitor. When he saw her familiar curly brown hair and green eyes, he smiled.
“Lori!” He pulled her into a hug.
“Oh…Hi!” she squeaked, and Quinn quickly let her go.
“How’ve you been?”
“Good. You know…the same.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her gray coveralls as a gust of wind blew up from behind her. Her curls bounced, tugged by the breeze, and her cheeks turned pinker as he watched.
“Well, you look great. Want a cup of coffee?”
“Um, no, I don’t think so. I’d better just get to work. I got those parts in last night.”
“Come on. Have coffee with me. I feel bad about last time.”
“What about last time?” she asked, though she walked into the cabin when he waved her on. With her hands in the pockets, Quinn noticed the way the baggy coveralls pulled tight across her ass. He was pretty sure he hadn’t seen her in anything but coveralls in the last five years. Maybe ten.
He edged past her to start up the small coffee machine he’d plugged into the generator line. When he spun back toward Lori, she was turning in a slow circle.
“Are you actually living here?”
He glanced toward the bed. “Sometimes.”
Her boots clomped against the scarred wood floor. Quinn looked from the steel-toed leather up to the delicate shape of her face and shook his head.
Lori frowned. “Why are you shaking your head at me?”
“Nothing. Yeah, I’ve been staying up here most of the summer.”
She cast another doubtful look around the tiny one-room cabin. “Where do you keep your suits?”
“Back at my place in Aspen. I head there every morning to shower and dress. The solar water heater isn’t particularly effective after a cold night up here.”
“I guess not! I can’t believe it’s so cold up here in the middle of August. It was nice in Tumble Creek.” She shuddered, eyeing the coffeemaker.
Quinn laughed and grabbed a mug to pour her the first cup.
She glanced out the window. “You must get a lot of bears up here.”
“Bears? I don’t know…”
She waved a hand. “They’re all around here, Quinn. So…what did you mean about being sorry for last time?”
“When you came by to look at the backhoe I was a bit absorbed in my work.”
“A bit,” she said with a grin.
“I didn’t even realize you were here until you were gone, then I felt like a complete idiot.”
Lori waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve known you long enough not to be offended. You’ve always been that way. What did your dad used to call you? Doctor Distraction?”
“Yeah.” Quinn grinned.
“But I am glad you emerged from your daze long enough to offer me coffee this time.” She raised her cup in thanks and then gulped half of it. “Nice. I’m almost warm enough to go back out in that wind.”
“Hold on.” Quinn knelt down to rummage through the wooden box he kept next to the counter and dug out a knit cap. He tugged it over her hair. “This will help,” he murmured, as he concentrated on tucking a dozen stray curls under the cap.
“Stop!” She tried to duck away. “I don’t like hats.”
“It’s cold.”
“The coffee is enough.” She finally evaded his hands and yanked the stocking cap off, then stood, straightening out her hair and glaring at him.
“And I’ve always thought you such a simple woman. Who knew you were quirky and irritable?”
Lori rolled her eyes and tossed back the last of the coffee. “I should be done in about forty-five minutes.”
“Wait. Don’t storm out.” He pasted on a mock serious look. “This is turning out even worse than last time. I’m sorry I tried to put a hat on you. I apologize. That was inappropriate and horrible. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Amusement immediately replaced the annoyance on her face, and Lori laughed. “I just don’t like hats, okay? Drop it.”
She’d always had a great smile. In the rare moments on the school bus when both of them hadn’t had their heads stuck in books, Quinn would sometimes hear her laugh and turn to see her brilliant, wide smile. Not often, but that only made the smiles seem more important. And now? Now she was just a mystery. Unknowable and completely self-contained.
But she still had that smile.
He realized just how glad he was to see her. “Thanks for coming up to fix my machine, Lori.”
“You’re welcome, Quinn,” she called sweetly as she stomped toward the door in her big boots. “Give me an hour. Then we can discuss my bonus.”
L ORI PULLED a few more curls back into sproinginess as she stared at the backhoe’s engine. She made very sure that she appeared irritated instead of slightly excited. Those hands she’d wondered about had stroked over her forehead, her cheeks. Elegant as they looked, Quinn’s fingers were slightly rough, raspy from the work he’d done here on the mountain.
But it had been a fraternal sort of touch. As it should have been. Quinn was her best friend’s brother. He thought of her as a little sister or possibly not at all.
“More likely the latter,” she muttered, and forced herself to get to work.
“You say something?”
She jumped and banged an elbow on the angled hood. But Quinn didn’t notice. He was already back to staring down at his drafting table. “What are you working on?” Lori couldn’t help but ask.
He looked up, blinking as he always did when he surfaced for air.
She repeated the question.
“Oh, plans for the house.”
“But you’ve already started building.” She glanced toward the gray lines of concrete she could just make out at the edge of the meadow. “The foundation looks set.”
“Yeah, I’ve completed all the floor plans. Actually, I had everything done, but now I’m stumbling over the design details. I keep changing them.” He smiled in a self-deprecating way. “I do this every day for other people, but it’s much harder working on a house I plan to live in for decades. A brilliant new idea will come to me, then the next morning it’s clearly crap. I think I have a new sympathy for clients and their ever-evolving ideas.”
“That’s probably a good thing.” Lori looked around at the meadow and the trees and the blank expanse of sky suspended above the cliff. “You come here for inspiration then?”
His eyes lit up. “Exactly! The light, the color…shades and hues that change from minute to minute. I need to get the windows just right, the height and shape of them. The texture of the walls against the light. I need to know what the views will be in morning and afternoon and evening.” His hands gestured, and Lori greedily watched every arc, every twitch.
“That evening you were here,” he continued, “right after you left, the sun burst through the aspen, and I finally realized just the type of window I should place above the front door. The exact grade of stone to use on the fireplace where it rises up to the second floor…Shit, I’m sorry.”
Lori shook off the spell he’d cast with his bright eyes and deep voice. “What?”
“Sorry. I know I tend to go way past the boredom mark for most people. Not just computer engineers are nerds, I’m afraid.”
“No, I think it’s amazing! You look like you’re in love.”
“Oh.” He actually blushed. This tall, successful man standing in front of a log cabin in a flannel shirt. He blushed.
“It’s sweet!” Lori assured him.
“Yeah, great. Sweet. The ultimate nerd compliment.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. When he scowled, she laughed harder. “Give it up, Quinn. I’m not going to feel sorry for you. Even if you could convince me you’re a nerd, you’re still hot and rich and successful. Poor baby.”
Shaking her head, she set to work on removing the old starter. Maybe he was nerdy in the strictest sense of the word, but she knew plenty of girls in her junior high class who’d thought him tantalizingly mysterious before he’d gone off to college. Bookish and distracted took on a whole different meaning when the boy in question was also gorgeous and kind.
“Hot?” she heard him ask, and looked up to see him leaning against the porch rail watching her.
“Huh?”
“Hot. You said I was hot.” He kept his mouth serious, but his hazel eyes danced with laughter.
This time Lori’s face heated. She waved her wrench in his general direction. “I was just stroking your ego.”
“Well, nice work. It felt good, your stroking.”
She growled in frustration. “Go away. I can’t work with you staring at me.”
“You mentioned a bonus earlier. What did you mean?”
Something playful and husky had entered his voice, confusing her. And the word stroking was still echoing through her limbs. “Nothing,” she blurted out. “I just hoped you’d let me borrow the backhoe sometime. When you’re done with it.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes. Now could you please leave me alone?”
“But you’re in my office.” The aspens shook in the face of a gust, as if confirming his words.
“Fine. Look at your trees then. Not me.”
“I don’t want to be inhospitable.” She thought his gaze flicked down her body in a quick caress, which was silly since she was in her standard gray coveralls.
Suddenly, she really hated what she was wearing. It was Saturday. Maybe she should have arrived in a tank top and cutoff shorts with a plan to find many reasons to bend over while working. Of course, that would be before the frostbite set in.
Lori turned her back. “Fine then. Work and talk.”
“About what?”
Shrugging, she made sure to sound casual. “Where was the first place you went in Europe? You studied there, didn’t you? Tell me about it.”
After a long moment of silence, he did. His voice softened after a time, as if he were talking to himself, but Lori absorbed every word and stored it away for later.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_2456963f-f0f4-5ca0-93e9-d74bdb2935a8)
T HE BRIGHT RUBY PUSHPINS were reserved for special occasions. Shaped like faceted jewels, they made Lori smile each time she used one. She rolled the pin back and forth between her thumb and finger, then pushed it carefully into the word Córdoba.
Quinn’s story deserved a ruby pin. He’d described the buildings of Córdoba with passion, eyes sparkling, hands shaping the arches and doorways of the ancient city. He’d spoken of domes and spires and mosaics like an artist speaking of love or sex. And Lori had gotten turned on listening to him, embarrassingly enough. Maybe her fetish was architecture.
Once the pin was perfectly even with all the others, Lori stepped back to take it in. Pins covered most of Europe and spread out from there. Blue and black and yellow and green. Each pin representing a story someone had told her or she’d read in a book. Each color a measure of her desire to visit that place. The ruby pins…Those cities would be her first stops.
Someday.
She’d planned her escape from the first day of sixth grade, when the new teacher had shown pictures of her summer trip: sixty days of backpacking through Europe. Lori had felt her heart swell with lust. That passion had grown, building upon itself with every book she checked out from the library, every documentary she watched on PBS. It had filled her up all the way through high school, leaving no room for interest in boys. All her concentration had gone into saving and studying to get into Boston College.
And she’d done it. She’d gotten into the international business program, and even scored a coveted scholarship to spend a semester at a university in the Netherlands for her sophomore year.
Lori’s heart spasmed, throwing sparks of pain against the walls of her chest.
Her dad had been so proud, refusing to even admit to a hint of loneliness during the four months she’d been at college. And then—
“Jesus,” Lori cursed. Skulking down memory lane was one of her least favorite activities. She spun away from the map and hit the light switch, plunging her old bedroom into darkness. Before she’d made her way down to the first floor, the doorbell rang, and Lori sprinted the last few steps.
When she opened the door, Molly rushed in and pulled her into a hug. “You really want to go shopping? ”
Lori pulled away and her gaze fell on the Aspen Living magazine she’d left on the couch. A pair of shoes she’d been lusting after for three days graced the back cover, not that she could afford them.
“Yeah, I think I do.”
Molly looked from the magazine to Lori’s face and nodded solemnly. “All right then. Let’s go buy some shoes.”
“Okay. And…and a dress.”
Already turning toward the door, Molly froze to stare openmouthed at her. “My God. Are you serious? I thought you were all about jeans.”
“I was. But I’m turning over a new leaf. I think.”
“A new, sexy leaf! Considering how good you look in jeans, I think you’re about to rock this town. And I just saw the perfect dress for you last week. We are going to have So. Much. Fun. ”
Lori couldn’t help but grin back at her. “Okay.”
“I made reservations at Peak for nine, so we’ve got a full four hours. Let’s do this.”
She nodded. “Let’s do this.”
Once they were in Molly’s cherry-red SUV and on the road to Aspen, Molly gave her a searching look. “Soo…”
“What?”
Her friend shot her another meaningful glance, but Lori just shrugged blankly.
“So…” Molly said, “is this an ‘I’m every woman,’ Oprah kind of makeover? Or is it a ‘that guy is hot and I want to do him’ kind of makeover?”
Lori glanced down at her too-short nails, noticing that she hadn’t quite gotten the grease cleaned from one of them. She clenched them into fists. “Both maybe. I don’t know why, but I just feel like buying some heels. Looking like a girl. And I want to do someone.”
“Who?” Molly’s eyebrows had flown nearly up to her hairline. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ooo, did you see him at The Bar? The café? Is he one of the mountain bikers in town for the race? Maybe—”
“Whoa, there, paperback writer. I mean I don’t know who I want to do. Just someone. Someone tall and strong and cute.” With nice hands, something in her head added without her even considering it.
“Oh, my God!” her friend cried. Lori had a sudden, strangling fear that Molly was about to yell something about Quinn, but she didn’t. “Lori’s gonna get her groove on!” she squealed instead, just before she started singing “Super Freak” in a loud, off-key alto.
“All right. Okay. I want to ask you something serious. Ready?”
Molly pulled her mouth into a severe line and narrowed her eyes, though her nostrils still flared with amusement. “I’m ready.”
Tiny raindrops pattered against the windshield as they neared the summit, and Lori chose to watch those instead of her friend’s face. “Um…Those stories you write? Are they always…? Um…”
“Excellent? Why, yes, they are.”
“Shut up.” Lori drew a breath. Molly liked to crack jokes, but she was a good person and a great friend, and the only one Lori could even dream of talking to about these things. She set her shoulders and plowed ahead. “I’m asking if they’re always stories about things you like?”
Molly turned her narrowed eyes toward Lori. “Are you asking if I like S and M?”
“No! I mean…No, I don’t care about whether or not Ben ties you up and makes you call him Daddy.”
“Nice,” Molly snorted.
“I’m just wondering if you can write about things you’re not into. If you find some things exciting, even if you’d never actually do them.”
“Absolutely,” Molly answered quickly, making Lori wonder if she and her writer friends had these types of conversations all the time. Some of the tension left her shoulders.
“I’ve got a friend,” Molly went on, “Delilah Hughes. She writes stories about pretty heavy submission and bondage. Stuff I’m totally not into. But her books are beautifully done, charged with emotion and conflict. Very sexy. I love them. And Ben always appreciates it when I read them, if you know what I mean.”
Lori rolled her eyes. “I think I might.”
“But sometimes it’s not really a matter of what you’re into. It depends on who you’re with. There are—” Molly wiggled her eyebrows meaningfully “— things I’d do with Ben that I’d never do with anyone else.”
“Deer,” Lori called out, thankful for the opportunity to change the subject. She had the answer she wanted.
The car slowed to a crawl as Molly drove by the doe staring from the shoulder of the road. They both watched until it finally burst into flight and disappeared into the trees. Silence reigned while Molly concentrated on the road, but if the doe was part of a herd, the rest had stayed well hidden. Two minutes later, the mist cleared, and sunlight exploded around them.
“Hey, we’re out of the clouds!” Molly cheered, and she was right. They’d been thrust into a beautiful, sunny evening, and the air inside the truck warmed by fifteen degrees in the bright rays.
When Lori rolled down her window, the green scent of wet grass poured over her. She breathed deep.
“So what is it?” Molly asked, lowering her voice to a stage whisper. “Spanking?”
A gnat flew down Lori’s throat. Or else she was choking on mortification and horror. Coughing, she glared and shook her head.
“Oh, come on. Everyone likes to read about spanking. Or a three-way. Is it two men? Is that what you’re thinking about? I’ve never done that. You should do it.”
“No! No, no, no! I don’t think I want to try any of those things, I’m just…missing something.”
“Okay.” Molly relented, and reached out to pat her hand. “I get it. You’re restless and horny. Maybe you should go stay in Aspen for a whole weekend. Get a love nest at The Lodge. Pick up a cute guy. I’d come for moral support, but I think the Chief might object.”
“Definitely.”
“But you’ll think about it?”
Lori felt a little shiver of nervousness. “I don’t know. Let’s get through tonight, see how it feels.”
“Deal.” Her friend glanced away from the road to grin at her like a proud mama. “My little girl is all grown-up.”
“You’re embarrassing me, Mother.”
Molly let out one of her loud, boundless laughs, the kind that pulled everyone in whether they felt like laughing or not. Lori was no exception.
So she laughed into the wind, a weight rolling from her shoulders to bounce away into the forest. But without the weight, she felt a little hollow once she’d stopped laughing. Lori cleared her throat. “So Ben thinks someone might have killed my dad.”
The car jerked, hitting the soft shoulder for a brief moment that raised up clanging pebbles. “What?” Molly gasped.
“He stopped by the other day while you were at the store to tell me he was reopening the case.”
“What do you mean? He thinks someone came into your house and killed your dad?”
“No, he thinks someone purposefully bashed his skull in ten years ago. He didn’t tell you?”
“Oh, Jesus,” Molly breathed. The truck slowed considerably. “No, he didn’t tell me. You know what a stickler he is about confidentiality. But…why would he think your dad was killed?”
“There’s some evidence, but nothing concrete. I honestly don’t want to talk about it tonight, but I wanted to tell you. Just in case I have three martinis and start blubbering.”
“Oh, but, Lori, you’re—”
“No, seriously. No talking about it. I need a night out in the worst way. So let’s have fun. Show me a good time.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Molly watched her for a long moment, then turned determined eyes back to the road. “All right then. I have my mission.”
T HE MAÎTRE D ’ SMILED over his shoulder for the second time since he’d started leading them toward a table. Lori felt Molly’s elbow dig into her side and nudged her back, but she couldn’t help a little thrill of excitement. The man was flirting with her. Lori Love. And she was flirting back.
She smoothed a hand nervously over the flared skirt of the midnight-blue sundress. Without Molly’s encouragement, she’d never have even tried on the strapless silk dress, much less paired it with a pair of deep red shoes. But now she felt daring and feminine and sexy. And giddy as hell.
“Ladies,” the host said with a charming purr, sweeping his hand toward a table that overlooked the street outside.
“Thank you,” Lori said, trying not to giggle like a teenager when he winked at her.
“Paul will be your server tonight, but I’m Marcus. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”
“We will, thanks.”
By the time she’d settled into the chair he held out, arranging her skirts carefully so they wouldn’t get wrinkled, Lori could feel that Molly was about to burst. She looked up to find her grinning over her clasped hands.
“You look so pretty. And you’re glowing, Lori!”
“Maybe I put on too much blush.”
“Maybe you’re in heat!” Her eyes dropped lower. “My God I’m a genius. That dress is perfect for your body.”
“Thank you for helping me. I even look like I have boobs.”
“How crazy is that?”
Lori kicked her with one brand-new shoe.
“All right, I’ll be serious. You look gorgeous, so keep an eye out. There isn’t a man here who’d be able to resist you.”
“ That’s being serious? I’m ridiculously short, I’ve got a face like a grumpy pixie, and there’s black grease under my nails.”
“You look like a hot pixie tonight, darling. And everybody knows that pixies are little whores.”
“Hey, I think I read that book!” They were both snorting quite unsexily when the waiter came to take their drink order.
When he hurried away, Molly went suddenly wide-eyed. “Oh, my God. Look!”
Lori swung around, and immediately spotted the person who’d caused Molly’s shock. He was handsome, tall, and he had exquisite hands, though she couldn’t see them from this far away. Quinn was standing next to a table on the other side of the restaurant, a napkin clutched in his fist, and his eyes locked on…Lori.
Her heart flipped as she spun back to stare down at her silverware. When she’d first looked at herself in the mirror at the store, she’d had a brief, mad wish that she’d run into Quinn tonight. And here he was. Maybe she was a pixie.
When she noticed Molly smiling up as if her brother were getting closer, her heart fluttered.
Where the hell were those drinks? Flirting with a stranger was one thing, but now she had the acute sense that she looked foolish. A fraud. A sow’s ear trying very hard to become a silk purse, or whatever that damn expression was. She pulled nervously at a curl and wondered if she’d already licked all her lipstick off.
“Hey, Quinn!” Molly said, and Lori nearly knocked her bottle of mineral water over.
When he didn’t reply, she couldn’t stand the suspense and had to look up…straight into his hazel eyes. “Lori?” he breathed. Heat climbed up her chest, burning all the way up to her hairline.
“Hey,” she managed to croak. It didn’t help that he looked unbelievably elegant. His dark gray suit was set off perfectly by a white shirt and silver-green tie. He’d seemed like plain old Quinn this morning, but she was abruptly reminded that his life was a world away from hers.
“Hellooo?” Molly interrupted. “I’m Molly, your loving sister.”
“Hey, Moll.” His eyes didn’t leave Lori’s. “What did you do to Lori?”
“Got her horny with my award-winning writing.”
“Gah,” Lori choked, and broke free of Quinn’s eyes to shoot an outraged glare at Molly. Her friend grinned in response, but her mouth got more serious when she looked up to Quinn, then down to Lori and back up again.
“Why?” she drawled. “What did you do to Lori?”
He opened his mouth but didn’t say a word, then seemed to shake off whatever shock he’d been laboring under. “You look beautiful, Lori. Really amazing. I’m afraid my new client thinks I’ve got epilepsy now. I choked on a piece of jicama when you walked in.”
“Oh! Thank you.”
“That color is amazing. Like blue steel.”
“I…just…”
Molly tapped his arm. “Quinn, that blonde is waving at you. I think she’s pissed.”
“Shit,” he muttered. “I’d better go. It’s probably not professional to get caught drooling on my mechanic. I’ll see you soon, all right?”
“Oh. Yeah. Okay.”
Despite his words, he stood staring at her for so long that she got dizzy from holding her breath. Then he grinned and walked back to the fancy world where he belonged.
Lori couldn’t help but watch him the whole way, and goose bumps rose on her skin when he turned halfway to his table and winked at her.
“Lori,” Molly said in a very steady voice. Suspiciously steady.
Bracing herself, she turned back to face the scrutiny. “Hmm?”
“Lori, are you interested in being spanked by my brother? ”
Hot and cold rushed over her at the same time; she leaned forward, almost landing her chin in the pomegranate martini she hadn’t even seen arrive. “You are the worst friend in the world!” she whispered. “I can’t believe you’d ask me that!”
Molly seemed unfazed. She lifted her glass and took a sip, eyes unwavering in their focus. “You were just asking me about dirty things, Lori Love. Remember? And then Quinn walks over here and stares at you like you’re a raspberry truffle dipped in honey cream.”
“He…A what?”
“I’m sorry. That was too much, huh? Too erotica-y? Too much creamy goodness?”
Lori wrapped her fingers around the stem of her martini glass. “God, you are strange.”
“Don’t change the subject. Do you want to do dirty things with my brother or not?”
“No!” Her brain seemed to vibrate at the word, like an internal lie-detector test. “Of course not. I just fixed his backhoe. That’s it.”
“Got his engine running?”
“Stop it.”
“Hey!” Molly protested. “I could’ve said something about being a hoe, but I didn’t.”
Frustration built up inside her, but when it boiled over, it just disappeared, steam spreading out into the air. The curses she wanted to yell morphed into laughter, and she collapsed against the linen tablecloth. “Can’t you ever be serious?” she gasped.
“I’m working on it, I swear. But I have to save it all up for Ben so he won’t lose his mind. You only have to tolerate me for short periods. Suck it up. Anyway, I’m supposed to be showing you a good time, remember?”
What could she do but nod? Molly was her best friend, and her life had been one long gray haze before Molly had returned to Tumble Creek last year. It had been so much less gray since. “Okay, I suppose I can tolerate you. By the way…Did Quinn say he was drooling?”
A smile started small on Molly’s lips, but it gradually spread into a wide grin. Her eyes sparkled like happy jewels. “That,” she answered, “is exactly what he said.”
Lori polished off her drink and then stared down into the empty glass. She tried even breathing, but it didn’t seem to work. “I-think-I-want-to-do-dirty-things-with-Quinn,” she forced out, and then raised her heavy gaze to Molly’s. “But I can’t.”
The sparkle left her friend’s eyes and she finally got serious. “Why? I admit, we won’t be able to gossip about the details, but I don’t have any objection otherwise.”
“He’s your brother.”
Molly placed both her hands flat on the table and leaned slowly forward. “I only have circumstantial evidence,” she whispered, “but I’m almost certain he’s not a virgin.”
“That’s not the point. The point is I’m not looking for a relationship, I just want to use someone for sex.”
A throat cleared from somewhere just over her shoulder. When she turned to see the waiter standing there, she wasn’t even embarrassed, just incredibly relieved it wasn’t Quinn.
“Shall I give you another moment?” He was turning away before Lori finished explaining that they hadn’t looked at the menus yet.
“He’s very tense,” Molly said.
“Well, then he shouldn’t walk up on people so quietly.”
“No, I meant Quinn. Quinn’s very tense. I think he could handle being used. Might be good for him. He has trouble sleeping.”
“I’m not going to use your brother! And I don’t think he’s volunteering.”
“Oh, he’s volunteering,” Molly scoffed. “I think he’s ready to have his tires rotated, if you know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t know what you mean. Is that supposed to be sexy?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay, I can see we’re moving away from serious here.” Lori sighed. “So let me put this simply. I’m looking for a little fun. No attachment. And definitely not someone I’ll see all the time afterward. Quinn is not an option.”
Molly rolled her eyes. “How many times have you seen Quinn in the past decade? Five or six times?”
“Are you determined to pimp your brother out?”
She slumped and waved a dismissive hand. “Fine. Never mind. Whatever you do, don’t sleep with Quinn. Anyway, you’ve got another option. Our waiter is talking to the maître d’—I think he’s passing on your secret message.”
Lori twisted around to find both men smiling in her direction. Great. She suddenly felt less like a powerful sexual creature and more like prey. She’d exposed her soft underbelly, now one of them would move in for the kill.
Finally picking up her menu, Lori just shook her head. “I think heels and a dress are enough for this weekend. I’ll cross the sex bridge next week.”
“Oo, the sex bridge,” Molly murmured, looking over her own menu. “All right, we’ll see how that works out. By the way, Ben said to tell you he might stop by the shop on Monday.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought it was something to do with his truck, but now that I know about your dad, I’m not sure. Just make sure you’re not standing on the sex bridge when he gets there. He might accidentally get on it, and wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”
Picturing Ben catching her in a compromising position, Lori burst into laughter. He’d had enough embarrassment via Molly over the past year, and she didn’t want to put him through any more, but the thought still struck her as hilarious.
Enough with worrying about men. Tonight she was going to have fun. Let the boys watch from afar. And maybe…maybe even drool a little.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_c8f5aadf-95ac-5b98-bb51-2a119c9c6d9c)
T HE SUN BEAT DOWN , hotter than it had been all summer, burning Quinn’s back. If he were working at his site, he would’ve already ditched the shirt, but he wasn’t working. Instead, he was in Tumble Creek, watching Lori.
He hadn’t expected to find her in the garage on a Sunday, but there she was, balanced on the bumper of a half-ton pickup, her small body swallowed by the depths of the engine well. A long, muttered curse bounced off the hood of the truck, something so blatantly obscene that it turned him on. Who’d have thought such a pretty little thing could have such a dirty mouth? Even more shocking, who would’ve thought those coveralls could so thoroughly hide those curves? Not that she was buxom, but last night his eye had recognized the beauty of each perfect proportion. Though not until after he’d recovered from the shock of glancing up and spying some sort of ultrafeminine doppelgänger of Lori Love.
Speaking of spying…Maybe it was creepy of him to stand outside unannounced.
So he said, “Hey, Lori,” and then watched her head rise into a quick and nasty crash with the truck’s hood. “Damn,” he rasped, rushing forward to help. The cursing started again, which would have made him smile if he weren’t worried about her skull.
“Are you okay?”
As she clutched the top of her head, Quinn eased his hands around her waist and lowered her to the ground. “Are you bleeding?”
She slapped his hands away and cursed some more. “You scared the hell out of me!”
“Sorry. You want some ice? Let’s get some ice.”
“I don’t…” Her shoulders slumped. “Okay, fine.” She led the way through the garage and into the house, fingers gingerly exploring her scalp the whole way. “I think it’s all right actually.”
But Quinn didn’t pay any attention; he was busy inhaling the scent of home-cooked food. “My God, that smells good. I was going to ask if you wanted to go grab dinner, but you’ve already got plans, I guess.”
He glanced over to find her staring at him, hand still pressed to her head. “Dinner?”
“Yeah. You’ve already got something in the oven?”
“Yes.”
When she didn’t offer anything more, Quinn felt his stomach sink. “So you’re busy?”
She looked from him to the oven, her green eyes wide with…anxiety? Strange. “No, I’m not busy.”
Well, she wasn’t exactly enthusiastic, but he didn’t plan on giving up that easily. He’d been thinking about Lori Love since yesterday afternoon in his cabin. He’d been thinking seriously about her since last night.
“It smells delicious, did I mention that?”
She finally lost her shocked expression and smiled, rolling her eyes at his obviousness. He’d never claimed to be slick with women.
“Fine, Quinn Jennings. Since I’ve already cooked dinner, would you like to stay and help me eat it?”
“That’s a fantastic idea! I’d love to. Now let’s get some ice.”
“My head feels fine. I’ve got a thick skull. And lots of hair.” She glanced at the clock as she balanced a boot on a kitchen chair to loosen the laces. “It’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes. Just give me a second to change. There’s beer in the fridge.”
His shoulders had already begun to turn toward the ancient beige fridge when his eye caught the motion of her hand rising toward her zipper. He changed direction, turning back toward Lori as she moved the zipper down. The coveralls gaped, and Quinn watched, entranced, as a white tank top was exposed.
At that point, he half expected her to step out of her uniform wearing nothing but a thin white tank and a pair of panties. But Lori tugged the coveralls down with no ceremony, revealing a faded pair of jeans. And the tank top wasn’t that thin, either. Damn.
Seemingly unaware of his train of thought, Lori toed off her boots, pulled off the coveralls, and tossed them over the chair before heading for the bedroom.
Her walk seemed captured on a slow-motion camera; Quinn imagined her hips swaying in nothing but a pair of skimpy blue panties and reached blindly for the handle of the fridge door. He needed a drink. He might not be better with women with a beer or two under his belt, but he forgot how bad he was, at any rate.
After popping a bottle open for Lori, he downed half of his in a few quick swallows. What the hell was he doing here, anyway? Looking to ruin a perfectly good friendship? His track record with relationships so far was zero and…Hell, he didn’t even know the number, which proved the point. But every time he put down his work lately, he started thinking about her and that smile.
Lori Love was an enigma. Though she and Molly had been friends in school, they hadn’t been best friends. Molly had been popular and slightly flighty, while Lori had embodied the stereotype of the scholarly girl. Nose always in a book, extracurricular activities planned with an eye toward college applications, or so Molly had claimed. Lori had studied hard and spent her free time working in Love’s Garage. Quinn had no idea what had happened to her after that, except that she’d gone to Boston College on a full scholarship, then come home when her dad was injured.
And now she seemed like a typical female mechanic, if there was such a thing.
Wandering into the living room, Quinn let his architect’s eye take in the lines of the fifties construction. Nothing had been changed since the original build as far as he could tell. He wasn’t even sure the walls had been painted since then. Certainly the decor hadn’t been updated. Nothing here, absolutely nothing, gave him any clue as to who Lori had become.
Ancient bowling trophies crowded the mantel above the moss rock fireplace. A lamp made from a bowling pin sat on an unremarkable oak table. The couch was frat-house chic.
This was her father’s house, plain and simple. But her father had died over a year ago. Was it grief that kept her from making the place her own? Quinn raised the dusty blinds on one of the small windows and found a view of the garage yard. The sad sight burned through his stomach. He could see why she kept the windows closed.
A creaking floorboard alerted him to her presence, and when he turned, Quinn forgot about old decor and broken-down cars. Her jeans and tank were gone, replaced with white capris and a flirty little red shirt that showed off her shoulders. She chewed on her lip and tugged a few brown curls into compliance. He let his eyes slide all the way down to her bare feet…and bright red toenails.
“Nice toes,” he said stupidly, and watched them curl against the carpet. Clearly he needed to finish the beer. Who the hell told a girl she had nice toes?
When she’d had enough of him staring at her feet, Lori spun for the kitchen and opened the oven. “Another few minutes,” she muttered. “I’ll make the salad.” By “make,” she apparently meant “get out the bag” because she cut open a plastic bag and dumped the salad into two bowls while Quinn smiled at her back.
Her shoulders were straight and beautifully pale, brushed by shiny, bouncy curls as she moved. He caught her profile as she went back to the fridge for salad dressing and couldn’t help but lose himself in the careful line of her throat and chest. Her breasts were small, but they rose in a graceful curve that drew the eye. No wonder she wore that baggy outfit at work. The men in her employ would get nothing done if she showed up like this.
“Do you want to go to The Bar after dinner?” he blurted out.
Her head popped up and she frowned. “Why?”
“Because I didn’t bring any wine.”
“And you think they’d have good wine at The Bar?”
Well, she had a point. The place was so old and crusty it didn’t even have a real name. “To Aspen then,” he corrected. “There’s a great wine bar on Hopkins Avenue.”
“Did you talk to Molly today?” Lori suddenly demanded.
“I—”
She cut him off by slamming the dressing bottle onto the counter. “Damn it, I told her I didn’t want to date you!”
Quinn wondered if the air conditioner had just kicked on with a vengeance. All the pleasant warmth of the evening vanished in an instant and left him in the freezing cold. “Really?”
“Yes!” Lori ran her hands over her face, then shook her head before she met his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Quinn. I’d love to date you, honestly, but that’s not what I’m looking for right now.”
Now he was confused. That sounded a lot like, “It’s not you, it’s me,” except that they’d never even gone to lunch. “I see,” was all he could say.
“I can’t believe this,” she muttered.
“Look, I just wanted to take you out for a drink, and maybe we could—”
“Whatever she told you, I am not going to use you for sex.”
The imaginary air conditioner switched off. So did his brain.
“Not that I wouldn’t love to!” she went on. “But it’s really about random, meaningless fun, not dating. I’m not in a good place for dating right now. I’m sorry you were dragged into this. She just won’t drop it.”
“Who?” he rasped.
“Molly! What did she tell you to get you over here?”
Quinn clutched the beer bottle tighter, feeling the smooth glass press his skin, grounding himself so that he could make his brain work. “Molly hasn’t called me in weeks.”
Though she’d been reaching for her own beer, Lori’s hand froze just an inch from the bottle. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about.”
Her hand fell away to hover near her side. “That doesn’t…No. Why would you be here if Molly hadn’t called?”
Maybe she wasn’t as smart as he’d always thought. “Lori, I came over to ask you out. Period. It’s not that complicated.”
“Oh.” The pink started right at the skin just above her shirt and floated inexorably higher, past her collarbones, then up her neck to her jaw. Her cheeks flamed redder than the rest of her skin. “Oh, God. Are you sure?”
“Very sure. But what were you saying about using me for sex?”
Her body tilted slightly to the left, then the right. Alarmed, Quinn was moving toward her, meaning to grab her elbow and help her to a seat, but the oven timer went off and the sound snapped her straight.
She moved stiffly to the oven, grabbed a hot pad, and in a moment she was standing at the counter, staring down at a perfectly roasted chicken and a loaf of hot bread. “Okay,” she said to the poultry. “Okay.”
“Lori—”
“No, just…Let’s have dinner. I’m sorry there’s not more. I was just going to have a salad and…Oh, Jesus.”
Quinn let silence fall, utterly unsure of how he should proceed. His thoughts were ping-ponging back and forth, running into each other like drunk kids in a mosh pit. When Lori moved, grabbing plates to set the table, he jumped on the opportunity to give them both time and took her beer and the bottle of dressing.
Sex. Lori Love wanted sex.
He grabbed the salads and carried them over while Lori brought the chicken.
No dating. Just sex. Nothing else.
He watched her hips as she hurried back to the fridge and let himself imagine. Sex. With Lori. The images came easy and quick.
Once the food was served and all the busywork ran out, they both lowered themselves slowly into chairs and looked anywhere but at each other as they dug into the salad.
Though he’d never been into meaningless sex, Quinn wasn’t above liking the idea of it. And, actually, it would solve one of the more serious problems in his life: he was a terrible boyfriend. Seriously bad. Out of all the women he’d dated, not one had been happy for more than a month.
He forgot things, important things like dates and birthdays. On the phone, he had the attention span of a gnat. Worked late more often than not and liked to read books about engineering when he got home. It was a sad measure of a relationship when a woman grew jealous of New Physics in Architecture.
Quinn started on the chicken.
Considering his track record, asking Lori out in the first place had probably been idiotic. But if they kept it meaningless and casual…None of his shortcomings would matter, would they? They’d simply go their separate ways, some very nice memories between them.
A few minutes later, Quinn set down his fork and raised his eyes. Lori kept chewing for a few moments, until she noticed his attention and swallowed hard.
“What?” she asked.
“Did you mean what you said?”
Relief softened the anxiety on her face, but her smile popped into place with too much brightness. “No! No, of course not. I was obviously joking. Duh.”
“Mmm-hmm.” He stared at her until she squirmed, then stared some more.
Her smile vanished. “What?”
“Because if you weren’t joking—and I don’t think you were—then I’d like to volunteer.”
“Volunteer?” she breathed. “For what?”
Quinn took a deep breath and placed his hands flat on the table for balance. “I’d like to have meaningless sex with you, Lori Love.”
T HE ROOM WAS spinning and hot. A convection oven of mortification spiced with a hint of lust.
Quinn Jennings had just propositioned her in the most inappropriate way. The last thing she’d ever expected.
“We can’t do that,” she blurted out.
“Why not?”
Because I like you, was her first thought, but that was ridiculous. Did she want to have sex with someone she didn’t like? If so, how could it possibly be any good? She reached for the next thing. “We know each other.”
“Um…Were you planning on hanging out at a rest stop or something?”
She gasped in horror. “No!”
“Bathroom at a club?”
“Quinn!”
“Well, you know my name and where I work. That’s about it, and I’d hope you’d want to know at least that, even if you picked somebody at random.”
“I just…” God, it sounded so sordid when he described it. Then again, she’d been wanting sordid, hadn’t she? And yet that guy at the restaurant had been cute and polite and interested, and the idea of taking him home had left her cold. “I know a lot more than that about you, Quinn. I know your sister and your best friend. It would be too awkward.”
He frowned at that, his straight brows descending into an angry V. “Not as awkward as being hurt—or worse—by some stranger you decided to experiment with. It would be really, really stupid for you to hook up with a complete stranger. Is that really what you’re planning?”
“Hey!” she protested, but couldn’t think of anything more than that. Just those few words made her flush with embarrassment, because he was right. Risk was fun until it actually got risky. But still…“You sound like your dad when you say things like that.”
Anger simmered in his gaze, but he quickly tamped it down, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, his face flushed with regret. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I just don’t want to think of you putting yourself in harm’s way. Especially when you have a willing victim right here.”
“Victim, huh? That’s flattering. Thanks, but no thanks.” He grabbed her wrist when she pushed back to leave the table. Lori froze, hovering an inch above her chair.
“I didn’t mean it that way. Honestly, Lori, I’m the perfect candidate.”
“Do this a lot, do you?”
“Of course not. Never, in fact.”
She hadn’t realized that jealousy had crept inside her skin until it slunk away. Jealousy over what? Quinn? When her thighs began to tremble from exhaustion, Lori slowly let her body collapse back into the chair.
He watched her with very serious eyes. “I’m no good at relationships, Lori. I work too much and I forget about all the boyfriend stuff and end up carelessly hurting any woman in my life. I’m inattentive and distracted…” He shrugged, gaze leaching from serious to weary. “I suck at being a boyfriend, but you don’t want a boyfriend.
“I like you. I respect you. You know me, but not so well that I won’t fit into your sordid plan. Just well enough to be sure I’m not going to drug you and post dirty pictures on the Web.”
Another point in his favor, though her career as a mechanic didn’t hinge on a spotless reputation. Maybe it would be exciting to be caught up in an Internet sex scandal. Maybe she’d get more customers. Or maybe she’d die of embarrassment.
Quinn’s fingers shifted, and she realized he was still holding her wrist. Her heartbeat jumped as his skin slid against her pulse, heat smoothing against that delicate, beating place usually covered by thick leather work gloves. The nerves in that one square inch gasped to life, then quickly spread the word to their neighbors. Warm prickles tingled up her arm.
She jerked her hand away and shoved to her feet. “Do you want some ice cream?” Not bothering to wait for an answer, Lori rushed to the fridge and yanked open the freezer.
“Plus, I find you very attractive,” Quinn added as if that were the least of her concerns. But those few words froze her lungs as she banged the tub of ice cream down.
Shit. He found her attractive? Very attractive? It could be true, or it could be an attempt to get some free sex from a woman who was offering. Just as she tried samples of things at the fancy grocery store in Aspen. She didn’t particularly want cranberry-flavored waffles, but she’d eat one if it was pushed in front of her.
Just as Quinn would eat her if she lay down naked in front of him.
Her cheeks burned as she scooped vanilla ice cream and thought of Quinn lapping her up. The strength of her yearning shocked her into panic.
“I can’t!” she groaned. “I—” A loud knock stuttered through the house.
Gasping with relief, she darted for the door. Her relief didn’t die even when she opened the door to find Ben standing there, looking for all the world like bad news in a uniform. But whatever he was there for, he was only saving her from having to reject Quinn. Or not reject Quinn. Either prospect seemed terrifying.
“Lori,” he said, hand tipping his Stetson down a fraction of an inch. Lori frowned. An awfully formal gesture from a man she’d known forever.
When she waved him in, Ben’s gaze slipped past her, eyebrows rising for just a moment before he looked serious and official again. “Quinn,” he said with not a hint of inflection at finding his best friend in Lori’s living room. “How’s it going?”
“Great,” Quinn answered. “I think.”
Lori blushed and felt Ben’s eyes noting each shade of pink as it rose up her cheeks. Damn cop eyes. “I apologize if I’m interrupting your evening,” he said.
She shook her head. “No! No, we had something to eat. But we’re done now. Quinn was just leaving!”
“Huh,” he said from behind her. Lori didn’t turn around.
Ben’s eyebrows rose again. “You sure?”
“Yes!”
Quinn cleared his throat. “Well, all right then. Lori, why don’t I give you a call about that bill tomorrow.”
“I don’t—”
“We’ll discuss the details then.”
Oh, jeez. He wasn’t going to drop it. But at least she’d have time to think before then. And, knowing Quinn, he’d forget to call anyway.
“Thanks for dinner, Lori. It was a very pleasant surprise.” He brushed past as she nodded, holding her breath at the touch of his arm against her shoulder. His skin felt so hot…
Well, of course it was hot—98.6 degrees, as a matter of fact. Nice and toasty and no different from anyone else. Unless, of course, he was a werewolf!
“Lori?”
“What?” she barked, trying to pretend she wasn’t staring at the door that had closed behind Quinn a few seconds ago.
“Look, I was going to come by tomorrow, but I was walking past and thought I’d stop by tonight. I’m sorry if I interrupted something.” A tiny question hovered in those words, but she pretended not to hear it.
He cleared his throat. “I have notes on your dad’s treatment in the emergency room, but do you think you could get me copies of any X-rays or scans that were done?”
“Sure. Why?”
“I want to have the medical examiner take a look at those, too.”
She crossed her arms tightly and nodded.
Ben flipped out his notebook and jotted something down. “What about the motive question? Did you think of any possibilities?”
“No. Nothing.”
“Nothing? No rivalries? No bad blood?”
“Not that I know of.”
“And what about girlfriends?”
The idea of her father dating felt as bizarre now as it had two days ago. But maybe the stranger part of it was just how odd it seemed to her. “I honestly don’t know. I asked Joe about it, and he said my dad dated occasionally but there was never anyone serious. I had no idea he even dated. He kept it from me.” She laughed a little. “I’m beginning to think it’s weird that I can’t answer these questions, Ben.”
“No,” he said immediately. “This is normal when a child—even an adult child—is answering questions about a parent. Believe me, it’s usually a bad sign if a kid knows too much. Your dad was your dad, and he kept his private life private. That’s just what he was supposed to do.”
“Okay.” She felt tears welling, and nodded quickly.
“The officers investigating at the time came up with the same information. As far as they could tell, there wasn’t a woman in his life. So you weren’t left out at all.”
“Okay.” The tears finally spilled over. She tried to wave him off, but Ben was having none of it.
He cursed and reached out to rest his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dropped in and ruined your Sunday like this. I’m heading to Molly’s in thirty minutes. Why don’t you come with me?”
Lori felt tempted for about five seconds. Then she remembered the lingerie Molly had picked up in Aspen the night before. “Um, no. I think I’ll just stay here and let you two have your evening. I’ve got invoices and…stuff.”
He objected a few times, but Lori finally got him out the door and shut it tight behind him.
She needed some ice cream. Or a drink.
Probably both.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_4ad4b5ae-21fa-5ad4-a88a-e48880e310c3)
“I’ll take care of you,” Rafael whispered. Then she felt the scrape of his impossibly sharp teeth against the tender skin of her neck.
“You can’t protect me from everything,” Jodi protested, breath catching somewhere between a gasp and a sob. His hands held her still, her naked back pressed against his chest, ass snug against his erection.
“I can.” His surety vibrated over her skin, raising goose bumps. Finally, he loosed his grip and slid one hand down her arm to caress her hip. He teased her, stroking circles over her skin until his fingers found her sex and she cried his name like a prayer. And then his long, sharp teeth sank deep into her neck….
L ORI SIGHED and tossed the book toward the end of her bed. She’d been flipping through the pages since she’d awoken at 5:00 a.m. Too early, but she couldn’t get back to sleep and even the best of the stories couldn’t hold her interest. She’d lived all of Monday as if she were moving through water, every movement taking more energy than it should. It looked as though Tuesday would be more of the same.
Lori found herself wishing she could sink deeper into depression, deep enough that she could lie down and sleep for a good twelve hours. As it was, she seemed to be hovering between anxiety and the blues. Restless and lethargic at the same time. And seriously confused.
Ben must be wrong about her father’s injury. She wanted him to be wrong. And all the reports weren’t in yet, so Lori could still hope.
Her dad had been a good man, but he’d been rough-and-tumble. Sometimes, especially after her mother had left, he’d hit the town to get good and drunk. And he’d seen nothing wrong with throwing a few punches around if one of his drinking buddies pissed him off. Hell, his injury had happened at the now-defunct biker bar at the edge of town. Fistfights were part of the recreation. So he’d gotten punched and fallen against a stray rock, and whoever he’d been fighting with had taken off to save his own ass. The reconstructed scenario made total sense, and she’d never once doubted it.
Until now.
Damn Ben Lawson and his determination to run an organized police department. His persistent inquiries were working, at least on her. She’d spent hours lying in bed last night, trying to puzzle out this mystery. What had changed in his life? What had shifted?
She’d gone to college, yes. But how could that have inspired a crime? A mysterious drifter hadn’t moved into her room. What else? There hadn’t been any personnel changes, according to the records. Sometimes her dad had paid the occasional worker off the books, though. She’d have to ask Joe about that.
But there was one other thing that had changed while she was gone. A big change for her father.
He’d bought that land.
He’d purchased it just a month before his attack. Seemingly out of the blue. He hadn’t mentioned it to her until after the purchase, and Lori had been too wrapped up in college life to ask any questions.
Aside from this house on a lot chock-full of ecological hazards, that riverfront land was the only thing of value her father had owned.
Yet another developer had called about it on Monday. So at least two developers were interested in that twenty-acre plot. Why?
Lori covered her face in frustration.
If her father really had been assaulted, and if it had been premeditated, the land was the only motive she could think of. And that was the extent of her revelation. No who or how or why. She was going to have to spend the day going through his records, and those would probably tell her nothing at all.
“Crap,” she muttered, as she pushed herself off the bed. The red numbers of her clock glared 5:30 a.m. at her, as if she’d done something wrong. Dawn would be breaking by now, and if she couldn’t sleep, she needed to walk, wandering bears be damned.
She pulled on the sweatpants and T-shirt she’d left next to the bed and padded to the bathroom to brush her teeth and fix her hair. Her curls were the only thing pretty and feminine about her, as far as she was concerned. Her nose was a bit too snub, her eyes and mouth nothing special. But since she’d learned to tame her hair into big loose curls with some very expensive product, she made sure never to leave the house without fixing it. If she let it get frizzy and dry, she’d look as washed-up as she felt.
Once she felt bouncy and minty-fresh, Lori tugged on her running shoes and headed for the door. The purple light of the rising sun only hinted at warmth, but she didn’t mind. It fit her strange and icy mood.
Birdsong swelled in the silence of the morning. But once again when her shoes hit the gravel of the parking lot, she couldn’t hear anything but that hated sound, so Lori pivoted and hurried directly for Main Street. Her destination was the river, and she could actually reach it through the junkyard, but there was no path along that stretch. Plus she really didn’t care to pick her way through ancient tires and rusted struts.
Several large pickup trucks passed her as she walked, kicking up diesel fumes as drivers raised a solemn hand in greeting. The old-timers didn’t really wave around here. Too much emotion. The cowboys in the movie Brokeback Mountain had reminded her of most of the men of Tumble Creek, minus the secret gay sex, she supposed. Though if it were secret, what the hell would she know about it? Regardless, the men of Tumble Creek and the surrounding ranches were stoic and hardworking and not inclined to superfluous laughter. Or words.
They certainly weren’t artistic and funny, not like Quinn.
The thought of Quinn made her mouth pull up into a smile as she passed The Bar. Quinn hadn’t called on Monday, despite his threat. If he were any other man, she’d assume he’d gone home, thought over the offer to be her lover and decided a quick disappearing act was in order. But it was Quinn, and she had no doubt he’d been locked in his office, furiously sketching out architectural plans for twelve hours straight and giving not one thought to his scandalous offer.
He would call at some point, when he returned to the real world, and he’d apologize profusely for his forgetfulness, but Lori was thankful for the brief reprieve. She had no idea what to say if he pressed the issue. “No,” probably. If she had any sense at all. Quinn was not the man to act out her fantasies with. It would just be too… intimate.
Wrinkling her nose in embarrassment, Lori turned onto the steep, potholed road that led down to the river. She was so focused on her feet and the loose pebbles that threatened to roll her down the hill, she didn’t even notice that she wasn’t alone.
“Hey!” a deep voice called, startling her into a stumble that nearly took her down.
“Fuck me,” she yelped, arms flailing.
“Anytime, babe,” Aaron Thompson shouted like the idiot he was.
“Thanks for rushing up to help,” Lori snapped back. “Good way to make use of those muscles.”
Completely missing the point, Aaron smiled and flexed his bare biceps. It didn’t really matter that it was only fifty-five degrees out and much colder in the water, Aaron was already dressed for maximum exposure in a sleeveless, skintight neoprene wet suit and a lean red life vest. Lori was pretty sure he never wore underwear. He certainly didn’t have any panty lines, though she could see the clear bulge of his manly junk. As usual.
“You finally coming for that private white-water lesson I offered?”
“Not in a million years.”
“What if I bring along a friend? I did this girl in Aspen last weekend who said she was bi. I told her about you. She seemed, you know—” he wiggled his blond eyebrows “—into it.”
“Aaron,” she bit out, then made herself count to twenty. Lots of people in Tumble Creek assumed she was a lesbian because she didn’t date much and she fixed cars for a living. She’d actively encouraged this belief in Aaron’s case, because she’d grown tired of him stopping by after his last river run of the day to show off his tight neoprene package. Especially after the time she’d caught him rearranging his goods to offer his best side just before he’d stepped into the garage.
Lori shuddered at the thought and watched Aaron’s pretty blue eyes drop lower to check out her chest. She crossed her arms.
“Aaron, listen. Please. I will never sleep with you. And I will never sleep with anyone else in front of you. Nor,” she interrupted when he opened his mouth to speak, “will I sleep with someone you know and then tell you about it. Is that clear enough? Just drop it, all right?”
“But…” He looked confused, not believing even a gay woman wouldn’t want to sleep with Aaron, god of the hot river guides. A deep crease of thought appeared between his eyebrows. “But I thought we were friends.”
“Oh, for God’s sake. I don’t even know what to say to that.”
He shrugged, all traces of thinking gone from his face. “Whatever. Just call me if you ever decide to switch teams.”
“I…” There was no reasoning with a man who was such a bizarre combination of nature boy and gigolo. “I’ll see you later.”
He winked and turned back to the work of unknotting a thick poly rope. Lori’s eyes wandered to his ass, and he must have expected just that, because he turned his head and caught her looking.
“Reconsidering?” he offered in a smooth purr.
“No! I just…” With a growl, she spun and stomped off toward the narrow path that had been worn through the grass, Aaron’s laughter fading behind her. She didn’t want anything to do with that man’s ass, but no one could help but stare at the two perfect globes of muscles perched on top of his bulging thighs. How much time did he spend working out anyway? And how long did it take him to pour himself into that suit every morning? Jesus, she’d seen the hollows on the sides of his ass cheeks.
He’d be perfect for a fling. “If only he weren’t Aaron,” she muttered to herself, then the words hit her brain and she stopped dead in her tracks. A pebble pressed against the ball of her foot so hard that she felt it through the sole of her shoe. But she didn’t move.
Aaron was perfect for a fling because he was Aaron. He was young, hot and eager. He’d do anything she asked him to. And there was absolutely no danger of it developing into something deeper. Perfect.
And not the least bit tempting.
Not like Quinn.
She pressed her weight harder to her right foot until the pebble felt like a thorn. Her thoughts of Quinn held firm, unaffected by the pain. She wanted him. And she needed the distraction, really needed it. This thing with her dad, it could go on for months. And she had nothing—nothing—to distract her. Except Quinn and his offer.
Lori lifted her foot and kept walking, keeping a close eye out for any sign of bears ahead. If it were springtime, she wouldn’t be out at all. In the spring, the bears were not only hungry, they had baby bears to protect. “Eek,” she muttered.
The river rushed and roared beside her, always louder than she expected despite that she’d grown up two hundred feet from it. Once it hit Grand Valley it was a wide, smooth ribbon, but here it jumped and dropped and boiled, finding its way through sharp rocks and steep ledges. It was a little like her life, actually. Boring and calm one minute, chaotic as hell the next.
But if her life was going to be chaotic for a while, maybe she should enjoy the ride.
So Quinn wouldn’t be a perfect fling. He was too familiar. Too nice. Too smart. But he was right about one thing, he’d be better at a fling than he’d ever be at a relationship. Lori could vividly remember walking into the girls’ bathroom at a varsity basketball game to find a beautiful blond cheerleader weeping loudly into her hands.
“He never calls. Ever! And last night my parents were gone for the night, and he didn’t even show up. We were going to do it and he didn’t even remember!”
“Quinn’s just like that,” her friend had assured her.
“He hates me!”
“No, no! He’s so smart, RaeAnne. He’s got so much stuff to think about. College. Basketball.”
The cheerleader’s sobbing had grown louder, and Lori had hustled out, wide-eyed.
Smiling at the trail, she hauled herself over a fallen pine tree and jumped to the packed earth below. She’d been stunned by that conversation at the time, just the idea that Quinn—sweet, quiet, big-brother Quinn—could make a cheerleader cry. Could make a cheerleader cry about wanting to do it with him. What a strange and disturbing idea that had been.
And now here she was wanting to do it with him. Not crying over him, at least, but certainly confused. It felt strangely natural, as if that moment in that high school bathroom had been the first point on a meandering trail that led to an inevitable affair between Quinn Jennings and Lori Love.
But maybe it was a terrible idea, inevitable or not. Maybe it would end with her crying in a bathroom somewhere. Maybe she’d even be wearing a cheerleader’s uniform at that point. Just a lonely, kinky mess, wearing a short skirt and no underwear as mascara ran down her cheeks.
Her laughter bounced off the rock wall on the far side of the river, as if to confirm her decision. Sex with Quinn was a good idea, even if it turned out to be a bad one, because her nights would be spent pacing around her house, leaving angry messages for a forgetful lover, instead of tossing and turning and worrying about an investigation she couldn’t control.
She didn’t want to think about what might have been done to her father, didn’t want to imagine that someone had stolen his life and all her plans. So until Ben called to tell her his suspicions were unfounded, Lori would think about Quinn instead.
Q UINN GLANCED at his watch, then back to the road that led in a straight line from his condo to his office. It would be a busy day, but he felt as relaxed as if he’d just checked out early on a Friday afternoon. An hour swimming laps would do that for you, but it was more than just the loose exhaustion in his muscles. He finally had the vision he’d been chasing for Brett Wilson’s new home. The two-acre lot halfway up Aspen Mountain was flat and perfect for building…aside from the fact that Brett wanted a view of his favorite ski run from his living room. A ski run that sat on the wrong side of a jagged wall of granite.
“Buy another lot,” had been Quinn’s first suggestion upon walking the land. The builder had insisted that Brett Wilson would pay a premium if Quinn could make it work.
Quinn would be collecting on that premium now, though it had been the challenge of the project that had driven him to take it on rather than the money. He’d spent days turning possibilities over in his head, but the swimming had finally unlocked the puzzle for him, as it often did. Something about the rhythm and the echoing solitude worked like meditation for him.
He was picturing the cantilevered jut of the suspended living room when his cell rang. The sound tossed a sudden thought into his brain, where it exploded like a white-hot cherry bomb.
It might be Lori.
“Holy crap. ” Quinn scrambled to grab the phone, but the front wheel hit a slight buckle in the shoulder of the road, and when he jerked the car back onto the blacktop, the phone skittered away.
“Shit.” He’d forgotten to call her. “Shit, shit, shit.”
He pulled into a lot, threw his car into Park and dived across the seat to grab the phone.
“Hello?” he nearly shouted.
“Good morning, Mr. Jennings.” The cool voice of his office manager flowed across the ether. Jane. Just Jane.
Collapsing back into his seat, Quinn let his head hit the headrest. “Morning, Jane.”
“I hope I’m not disturbing you. I wanted to remind you of your schedule in case you were heading straight to a site this morning.”
“No. No, I’m coming in. But remind away.” He raised one eyelid to glance at the clock—8:30 a.m. Yes, he’d most definitely missed Monday by a mile.
“Here we go,” Jane said, just as she always did before running through his appointments. “You’ve got a preliminary consult with Jean-Paul D’Ozeville at ten this morning. Lunch with Peter Anton of Anton/Bliss Developers at twelve, a conference call at three about the lecture in Vancouver, and then the benefit dinner with Tessa Smith at seven.”
“The what?”
“The fund-raiser for the Aspen Music Foundation. You bought tickets weeks ago. I believe Ms. Smith wanted to meet Sting.”
Quinn thought he could detect a sardonic hint in her words, which would have surprised him if he hadn’t been busy reeling over the shock she’d just delivered.
“Tessa and I broke it off last week.”
“Well, she called yesterday to be sure you hadn’t forgotten.”
“Uh…right.” He vaguely remembered Tessa’s shouted assertion that she was not going to let him back out of such an important event.
“And,” Jane continued, “she went to dinner with you on Friday?”
“Yeah. Apparently I forgot to cancel that, too.”
His office manager cleared her throat. “I don’t see any more dates on your schedule. As long as you don’t accidentally agree to any other shared meals, this should be your last evening with Ms. Smith.”
“Good. I’m not—Jane, are you laughing at me?”
“Certainly not, Mr. Jennings. If there’s nothing else I can do for you, I’ll see you in a few minutes.” The line clicked dead, confirming his suspicion that she was, indeed, laughing at him. As he deserved. What kind of man found himself on not one, but two accidental dates?
Of course, Tessa was defined by her persistence. Quinn wasn’t normally apt to notice when women flirted with him, but women like Tessa didn’t wait for a man to notice, they simply assumed their place. So it was that one evening Quinn had looked up and found he was dating a big-breasted blonde who wore frighteningly tall heels. His developer friends had been impressed. Quinn had simply been too apathetic to break it off until Tessa had gotten clingy. Then it had been an easy decision.
Speaking of easy decisions…
Quinn dialed information, got connected to Love’s Garage, and then wiped the sweat off his brow while he waited.
“Love’s Garage,” a very feminine, very grumpy voice answered. Not good.
“Lori, it’s Quinn. Don’t hang up. I am so sorry I didn’t call yesterday. I—”
“Forgot?” she asked sharply.
Lying would be wrong. Really wrong. “I wouldn’t say forgot, exactly…”
“It’s no problem, Quinn. It gave me time to think.”
Not good at all. He wanted sex with Lori Love. It was slipping from his grasp, making him realize just how much he wanted sex with her. Time for brutal honesty. “You’re right. I did forget. I’ve been working on this difficult site, and…Okay, you don’t want to hear that. I’m so sorry. I know it’s insulting and degrading and…” He tried to think of a few more choice adjectives that had been applied to his forgetfulness in the past.
“It’s fine, Quinn. I’m not mad.”
He would not let this slip away from him on a wave of polite distance. “Of course you’re mad,” he pressed.
“Nope.”
“Then why do you sound so strange?”
“Because I’m on my back under a car?”
“Oh. Seriously?”
“Yes.” Her voice dropped. “But it’s nice and private under here.”
Quinn turned that odd comment over in his head for a moment. Was it possible she really wasn’t angry? Or was false relief making him stupid? Still…“And you need privacy because…?”
Her long pause stretched through the distance between them, tightening their connection like a wire about to snap. She’d had time to think, and surely that was a bad thing. Planning and forethought couldn’t be the quickest route to a red-hot affair. But maybe…
“Does your offer still stand?” she blurted out in a near whisper.
Quinn’s heart turned over so quickly he felt dizzy. “Yes,” he answered with a casualness he didn’t feel.
“Because I think maybe it’s a good idea. If you still do.”
Strangely, he thought of her stretched out under that car, her feet and ankles vulnerable, available to him. He could stroke his hand down the instep of her small foot, kiss her painted toes, curl his fingers around her delicate ankle, smooth his palm up the inside of her rising calf. In his fantasy world, she only wore boots and thick denim when he wanted her to. Today, she was barefoot, wearing a little flowered skirt as she labored beneath chrome and steel. Her—
“Quinn?” she breathed into the phone.
“Yes, I still think it’s a good idea.”
Her relieved sigh made him smile.
“So,” he ventured, “should I just stop by tonight to service you?”
A wheeze burst over the phone line, followed quickly by the clang of something heavy and metallic. Quinn grinned at the Mexican Food sign on the building in front of him.
“Oh,” Lori squeaked just before she coughed. “Oh, I guess. That would, um…Tonight?”
“I’m teasing you, Lori.”
“Oh, thank God. Jesus, Quinn. That was cruel.”
“Sorry.” Not that he was sorry at all. “I was actually thinking maybe we should go to dinner. Unless you’d prefer I just come over and drop my pants. I’ve got an hour free before lunch.”
“Quinn.” Lori’s voice had dropped to a tone he suspected she used with her employees.
“All right. Dinner first. Unfortunately, I’ve got a previous obligation tonight. What do you think? Tomorrow?”
“That soon?”
“Yes.” He left it at that. No point letting her mull over her decision any longer. And, frankly, he couldn’t wait.
“Okay.” The little squeak was back in her voice, making him smile. It thrilled him that she was nervous, that he wasn’t just some old friend who’d climb into her bed and make her feel comfortable and safe. He wanted her tense and excited. “What time?” she asked.
Quinn didn’t bother trying to think of his schedule. It had never once cemented itself into his head and never would. “Six-thirty.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you at your office.”
“No, why don’t I—”
“Listen, Quinn. I’m not interested in sitting here in my living room in a dress and heels for hours, waiting for you to remember our plans. I will meet you at your office.”
“Oh. I see. All right.”
She hung up with no added pleasantries, leaving Quinn staring at the restaurant sign for a few stunned seconds. “No chance am I forgetting this date,” he said to no one at all. “I’ll be there with bells on.”
He was still wondering what the heck that phrase meant when he pulled up to his office two minutes later. One more date with Tessa, and then he’d be Lori Love’s meaningless fling, hopefully for a good long while.
L ORI ROLLED OUT from under the car, wiping her hands on a rag. “Joe,” she called as she stood and stretched. “Will you be okay on your own for a few minutes? I’ve got a quick errand to run.”
After Joe gave her a thumb’s-up, she walked out and headed for the office of her Realtor. As she strolled along the cracked sidewalk, she realized how good this felt, confronting something. She’d been passive for so long, swept along by her life. Now she was taking control of a few small things. Finally. Maybe this would snowball into a real life.
“Fat chance,” Lori muttered, but she was smiling when she opened the door of the tiny Main Street office. “Hi, Helen!” she called to the tall blonde at the back of the room.
Helen Stowe looked up from pouring coffee, her big hair bouncing with the movement. “Hey, Lori! What can I do for you this morning?”
“Oh, I just had a couple of questions. How are you doing? I thought you were going to meet me and Molly at The Bar last week.”
Helen shrugged as she took a seat at her desk and waved Lori over to the chair that faced it. “You know. I just got busy.”
“We’re dropping by on Friday. Why don’t you come along?”
“Oh.” Helen’s heavily mascara’d lashes fluttered. “I don’t…I would, but…If…”
“Helen.” Lori sighed. “Did you break it off with Juan?” Juan was the manager and bartender of The Bar. He was also ten years younger than the newly divorced Helen.
“No,” she whispered, the quiet word trembling in the air. “He…” One fat tear escaped her lashes and tracked an ashy line down her cheek.
“Oh, Helen.”
“He said he was tired of hiding our relationship!” Helen gasped. “He said I was ashamed of him, but I’m not! It’s just…” That one tear was just the first of many, and Lori’s stomach sank.
“I’m so sorry, Helen.”
“It’s my own fault,” she said, as she yanked open a desk drawer and pulled out a box of Kleenex. “I never should have started dating him. He just doesn’t understand what it’s like to be a fortysomething woman dating a younger man.” She leaned forward, eyes a bit wild. “Do you know they have a word for it now? They call women like me ‘cougars’!”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that.”
“It’s mortifying!”
“Well, it’s kind of trendy, actually.”
“Trendy?” Helen screeched. “Do you know what Juan’s mama would say if she found out? She’s been after him to start making babies for years! If he brought home some dried-up old floozy like me, she’d probably call the priest over to perform an exorcism!”
“Helen,” Lori said softly.
Helen blew her nose and hiccupped.
“Do you like Juan?”
Her face crumpled again, and Lori had her answer.
“If you really like him, don’t you think you should give it a chance? Give him a chance?”
Though her tears continued to flow, Helen shook her head. “My husband left me, Lori. He left me after twenty years of marriage. I can’t go through that again, and you can damn well bet your ass that Juan would leave in a few years. Hell, I’m about to enter menopause. He probably doesn’t even know what that word means. ”
Lori sighed. “He’s a nice guy.”
Helen straightened her spine and took a deep breath, setting her impressive cleavage quivering. “Yes, he is. That’s why I’m not going to tie him down to an old biddy like me.”
Though she didn’t usually think of old biddies as buxom women who wore stiletto heels and shirts cut down to there, Lori gave in and nodded. Juan’s mother probably wouldn’t approve of the heels and cleavage, either. Having grown up in Mexico, she likely had some pretty conservative ideas about women, at least with regards to her youngest son.
“Now, I’m going to go freshen up,” Helen announced, “and when I come back, we will discuss your real estate needs.”
Wow, that sounded official. Lori looked obligingly over the photos of available properties until Helen returned, pink nose powdered and eyelashes freshly coated in mascara. “Now, what can I do for you, Lori Love?”
“I’m afraid I’m not looking to buy anything, but I did have a question about my dad’s property.”
“Yeah?”
“Chris Tipton’s been in touch a few times about buying the land and some guy I’d never heard of called on Monday. Has anyone else contacted you?”
“Oh, sure. I’m sorry, you said you weren’t interested in talking about it, so I didn’t call you.”
“It’s okay, honestly. I’m not interested, but I am wondering what all the fuss is about. Who else has asked about it?”
“Hold on.” Helen spun her chair to a tall filing cabinet and riffled through until she found a thin file and pulled it out. “Here we go. Someone from a company called Anton/Bliss Developers called last month, and there was a call from The Valiant Group in the spring. Other than that…I see I noted somebody called to ask about the land last week, but didn’t leave any information. The other two left numbers and asked me to contact them if you ever showed any interest in selling. Should I call them?”
“No,” Lori said quickly. “But will you give me their names and numbers?”
“You’re not going to try to do this on your own, are you? Because, honestly, these are some big companies, and whether you use my agency or not, I’d recommend consulting an attorney and—”
“I’m honestly not looking to sell right now. But I’m beginning to wonder if I’m sitting on oil or something. Have you heard anything?”
Helen shrugged. “Not a thing. I’ll keep my ears open, but it’s a beautiful spot and there’s a lot of rich folks around here.”
“Yeah.” Still…her dad had bought the land for less than seventy thousand dollars. It had been just as beautiful then, and there had been just as many Aspen people around.
Helen offered her a paper with the information.
“Thanks. If I ever do decide to sell, I need to know just how much it’s worth to these people.”
“Why don’t you sell it, Lori? Your dad’s gone now and, correct me if I’m wrong, but you were never interested in running the garage, were you?”
“I just…” Not wanting to think about her dreams and her fears and her money problems, Lori shook her head. “It’s complicated.”
“All right.” Helen patted her hand, her smile conveying sympathy and maybe a little pity, too. Great. “I’ll call you if anything else comes up. Let me know what you find out.”
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Victoria Dahl
Lori had always planned to get out of tiny Tumble Creek, Colorado, but when her late dad left her his beloved auto body shop, she'd stayed. Now, according to her crazy best friend, Molly, what Lori needs is some excitement, in the form of hot, no-strings-attached sex…and lots of it.
Quinn Jennings has buildings on the brainnot love and romance. A serious architect, he's delighted to discover that Lori is willing to skip dating protocols and head straight for the sheets. And aided by the steamy books on Lori's bedside table, he's busy indulging both of their wildest fantasies. But when life in Tumble Creek takes a dangerous turn for Lori, Quinn's protective instincts kick in.
Suddenly he cares. More than either of them ever expected…
Praise for works by VICTORIA DAHL (#ulink_a76ab51a-15af-5ba5-b22a-4fbbcb0d0fc2)
“Dahl delivers a fun, feisty and relentlessly sexy adventure in her first contemporary…. Dahl smartly wraps up a winning tale full of endearing oddballs, light mystery and plenty of innuendo and passion.”
— Publishers Weekly on Talk Me Down
“Sassy and smokingly sexy, Talk Me Down is one delicious joyride of a book.”
—Connie Brockway, New York Times bestselling author
“Dahl brings a highly sensual, emotional and moving story to the pages with aplomb. Her clever plotting and engaging characters drive the story forward at a fast clip, and the depth of emotions will keep you enthralled.”
— Romantic Times BOOKreviews on A Rake’s Guide to Pleasure
“All I can say is that by the end you’ll really love Emma. And Somerhart, too. And you’ll be rooting for them to make it, to bring together their complicated, somewhat demented love affair and turn it into marriage.”
— New York Times bestselling author Eloisa James on A Rake’s Guide to Pleasure
“Dahl debuts with a sizzling love story peopled with characters you come to adore…she creates a natural conflict between her three-dimensional lovers and keeps the pages flying with a strong pace and powerful sensuality.”
—Kathe Robin, Romantic Times BOOKreviews, on To Tempt a Scotsman
Start Me Up
Victoria Dahl
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is for Bill. I’m determined to make you laugh
out loud with this one, but I’ll love you even if you don’t.
Acknowledgments (#ulink_0610d035-cc6a-5de7-ae32-bfdf4f3306be)
I have to thank my family first. Thank you so much for putting up with a writer who’s been on multiple deadlines for over a year. I’m sorry about the messy house. It will get better next year. I’m almost sure of it. You make me proud.
Thank you to my wonderful editor, Tara Parsons. You have an appreciation for both Audis and backhoes, and that’s priceless. Thanks for getting me. And thanks to my agent, Amy. I couldn’t have done it without you.
And to all my wonderfully supportive writer friends—Jeri Smith-Ready, Farrah Rochon and Kristi Astor, to name a few—your support is invaluable. Jennifer Echols, you know how awesome you are, but I’ll tell you again. You rock.
Last, I want to thank my readers. Thank you for making all my work worthwhile. I’m honored.
CONTENTS
Cover (#u82038948-753e-5e94-a241-f6e536e54281)
Praise for works by VICTORIA DAHL (#ulink_aa3893b0-0ab0-5682-83f2-c20ecb13ca4a)
Title Page (#u6ab3d23e-91eb-5010-89e0-8c625f54977e)
Dedication (#uba71c584-b3f3-574d-815c-2cd6163c3ffa)
Acknowledgments (#ulink_7431f4da-f932-5af7-b480-58b6218de832)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_654f85ef-972a-527e-ace6-00992ef0efb3)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_9c69b4be-9705-534e-8d83-fb8908a3158e)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_ae7671f1-2bde-5109-9563-9ce80c571ea0)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_b4629d81-85f6-5a06-b5a3-6350d32d8efe)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_e1d2ea62-6d6e-5c23-bacb-a2bef7f6b14d)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_0f92065a-73a2-5e74-aee6-4a545d552faf)
“B ABY , THAT IS one fine ass.”
Lori Love ignored the purring voice and gave the mounting bolt on the transmission of the old Ford one last turn, laying all her weight against the wrench.
“Oh, yeah. Work it, darlin’.”
When the bolt felt tight enough, Lori wiggled the body part in question and tossed a grin over her shoulder toward the blonde behind her.
Her best friend, Molly, leered, eyebrows raised in suggestive appreciation. “Do fries go with that shake, girl?”
Lori stood and set the wrench on her tool chest. “I had no idea this look got you so hot.” She smiled up at Ben Lawson, standing behind Molly and very pointedly looking at the ceiling. “You should get some coveralls, Ben. Molly likes them.”
He rolled his eyes. “Are we done talking about Lori’s ass yet?”
“Oo, I don’t know,” Molly cooed. “It’s so cute and perky. Doesn’t it just make you think about—”
“You,” Ben interrupted, “are the strangest girlfriend I’ve ever had.”
Lori nodded in agreement. “She’s a strange girl, all right, but then you’ve been sheltered in this small town. Now, Moll, did you come here just to ogle my bottom, or is there something else I can do for you today? Lube job, maybe?”
They both descended into snorting laughter while Ben resumed staring at the ceiling in disgust. He was slightly more mature than the two of them put together. Good thing, considering he was the chief of police.
“I actually stopped by for a different reason,” Molly answered. “Quinn’s finally acknowledged that he can’t fix his backhoe. He needs help. I’m hoping you’ll stop by his place.”
Thinking of Molly’s older brother, Lori frowned. “Quinn’s an architect. Why in the world does he own a backhoe? And why would he think he can fix it himself?”
Molly waved a hand. “You know those geniuses. Think they can do anything. I told you he’s building a house up on the pass, right? His backhoe won’t start and he needs to finish the groundwork before winter. He’ll start the real building next spring.”
“Wait a minute. You mean he’s building it himself? I assumed you meant he was having a house built.”
“Nope. He says it helps him relax. Who the hell relaxes by building a whole house? Could he be more of an overachiever?” When Molly looked as though she was going to get riled up, Ben tugged a lock of her blond hair between his fingers.
“Some of us don’t have your artistic abilities, Moll.” He flashed her a private smile that relaxed her immediately.
Molly wrote erotic fiction for a living, which used to cause stress between the couple, but apparently Ben had come to terms with her job. Very pleasant terms. Lori managed to hide her envy by turning away to straighten up her tool chest. Not that she was interested in Ben. She just wanted some hot sex of her own. Looking down at her striped gray coveralls, she didn’t feel very hopeful about her prospects.
“I’ll run up to Quinn’s this week,” she offered. “Where is he, exactly?”
“His driveway’s right at the snow gate on the Aspen side. Turn left and the site’s about a quarter mile in.”
“Nice,” Lori breathed. Quinn must have been doing really well with his architectural firm. Only thirty-four and building his own mountain home with the gobs of money he’d made designing mansions for billionaires.
After arranging to meet Molly at The Bar on Friday, Lori got back to work on the Ford. She enjoyed fixing cars, she really did. Her father had put her to work on an engine when she was just six years old, and she’d been doing it ever since. But she’d never planned on working in her dad’s garage— her garage now—her whole life. No, that hadn’t even been a possibility when she’d left for college at eighteen.
But now it was all hers: the garage, the tow truck, the snowplows, the old dump out back. A bounty of unwanted mechanical glory.
Lori sighed and slammed down the hood of the car. Life wasn’t fair, but she was a big girl…. Well, actually she was way too short for her taste. Five-two and petite, which posed a problem when bossing around drivers and mechanics. But she was her father’s daughter, stubborn and realistic and not inclined to whine. So after his accident, she’d left college, painted all the trucks lavender, and taken control of the business.
When Lori turned the key in the ignition, the Ford roared to life, bringing a sad smile to her face. This was her job now, and she was good at it, and that was that.
She backed the car out and parked it in the gravel lot, then noticed that Ben was walking toward her. Alone.
“Hey,” she called as she jumped out. “Did you lose your girlfriend?”
“No, she’s over at the market. I actually need to speak with you about something, but I can come back tomorrow if you like.”
“No, this is fine. No problem. What’s up?” Once she’d locked up the car and met his eyes, he tilted his head toward her house.
“Why don’t we go inside and sit down?”
“Are you kidding?” she asked with a sharp laugh. Her dad was gone, her mom and grandparents long dead. A cousin lived somewhere in Wyoming, but if Lori was his emergency contact his life was even sadder than hers. She raised her hands in confusion. “Did you find out about that bank I knocked over? Because that was years ago. Childhood high jinks.”
Ben pressed his lips together and stared, so Lori just shrugged and walked toward the house. Maybe one of her mechanics had been caught stealing cars or something. When she let him through the front door, Ben gestured toward the couch.
“Oh, come on,” Lori scoffed.
“I think you should sit down.”
“Ben, this is ridiculous. Just spill it.”
He finally gave in. “All right. I’ve been looking into your dad’s case…”
Lori’s heart flipped over and made an awkward landing. “What case?”
He glanced determinedly toward the ratty couch again, then seemed to shrug into practical mode and plowed straight ahead. “The police station wasn’t run with particular efficiency ten years ago when your dad was assaulted. Though the incident report was closed out, no one sent it to records. I’ve been slowly going through all the old files, trying to get everything where it should be. I ran across your dad’s file last week.”
Wishing she were at least standing next to the couch so she could lean against it, Lori forced her mouth to work. “And?”
“And I’m not entirely sure about what happened that night.”
“It was a bar fight,” she said firmly. “Just a bar fight like the other dozen he’d started in his life. And bad luck he hit his head on that rock.”
Ben put his fists on his hips and looked down at the scuffed linoleum for a moment before he met her gaze again. “Lori, there’s a possibility it may have been deliberate. I’m going to reopen the case. Quietly.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. Why would you do that?”
“I’m suspicious. That parking lot wasn’t exactly littered with big chunks of granite. And if someone picked up a rock and hit your dad in the head, that’s assault with a deadly weapon. And now that he’s gone, maybe manslaughter or…”
Murder. He didn’t say it, but Lori heard it anyway. Shaking her head in slow denial, she moved into the kitchen and put her hands carefully on the counter. The cupcakes she’d made yesterday glowed bright pink in the afternoon light, mocking the slow, bad turn her day had taken.
Ben continued, and the hesitation cleared from his voice as he took on his chief of police mien. “If he had died at the time of the injury, there would’ve been an examination, an autopsy. Careful evidence collection. But the focus was on saving your dad’s life. Still, the scene photos don’t show any other rocks around. The only object that could’ve caused the skull fracture is that one piece of granite and we already know it had his blood on it. It seems a bit too pat to me to think he just happened to have fallen square onto that rock.
“There were no defensive wounds on his hands, no evidence of a fistfight. And he wasn’t found near his truck or even near the door of the bar. The back of the parking lot is an odd place to have a fistfight. Usually people just stumble out the front door and go at it.”
“I suppose,” she muttered, but she shook her head all the same.
“His autopsy reports are a bit of a mess with the healed fractures and surgical scar tissue, but I’m going to send the report off to Denver to get a second opinion. Just to see if there’s any confirmation of my thoughts.”
Lori tried to clear the sudden tears from her throat. “What is it you think happened?”
“I’m not sure.” Ben sighed. “But there’s a good possibility that someone attacked your dad from behind. Maybe when he was turning away from an argument, or maybe he didn’t even know someone was there. But that’s not much to go on. No one at the bar admitted to seeing anything after your dad left. He didn’t argue with anyone while he was there, at least not according to the notes. I’m going to have to conduct new interviews, but I’d like to keep it quiet as long as possible.”
“I…Okay. What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing,” Ben answered quickly. “You don’t need to do anything right now. Like I said, I want to keep this quiet. I’ll just be making some inquiries, trying to fit the pieces together. But I didn’t want you in the dark about my suspicions.”
“He’s dead now,” Lori murmured. “It doesn’t matter.”
But of course it did.
L ORI COULDN’T SLEEP that night. She tossed and turned for hours. By four-thirty she felt as if she might implode, as if all the thoughts swirling through her head would finally pull her in on herself and—poof!—she’d be gone. Her father, her life, the things she’d wanted for herself…
She couldn’t take it anymore, so she got up, showered and headed for the garage to change out the fuel pump on Mr. Larsen’s Chevy.
The air outside was perfect and crisp, but Lori only cracked open the garage door a few inches. She didn’t want to take any chances with curious bears. Especially if they were looking for breakfast.
As she worked at wrestling the old pump out, her thoughts became clearer and slightly more painful.
What if Ben Lawson was right? What if her father had been deliberately hurt? His skull fractured, his brain damaged, his life taken away long before he’d died…What if someone had done that on purpose?
She grabbed a rag and wiped sweat—or tears—off her face, then bent back to her task.
She hadn’t complained about the turn her life had taken. Accidents happened. She’d given up on college and travel and dating, but she’d done it for her father, willingly. He would have done as much or more for her. So, no, she hadn’t complained about what she’d given up.
But giving up something was very different than having it taken away.
Her teen years had been filled with books and hopes and a steely-eyed determination to get into the college of her dreams. And she’d done it. She’d gone off to Boston College, and her father had been so proud. Then he’d been hurt, and she’d left that behind, but she was beginning to realize she’d left behind a lot more than her education.
Her twenties had revolved around caring for her dad and keeping his business going to pay for it. Her life had been spent in coveralls and boots, T-shirts and jeans. Any love affairs had been brief and unexciting.
But lately, even before Ben’s news, she’d been restless. She couldn’t just leave Tumble Creek. Couldn’t hop on a plane and start college again. There were simply too many bills that had piled up over the years. Caring for a semivegetative relative wasn’t cheap.
So she couldn’t simply walk away and start over. But she could change her life in smaller ways, and something inside her was calling on her to take action. Perhaps this was just a natural consequence of nearing thirty. But that restless feeling had rapidly grown more intense since Ben had dropped by.
Noticing that the sunlight was now bright yellow instead of pale pink, Lori glanced up at the clock. Seven-thirty. When she raised the garage door the rest of the way, the spectacular clatter echoed through the high-ceilinged garage. She strolled out into the sun and bright birdsong, but the gravel of the lot crunched and popped beneath her boots, distracting her from the beauty of the morning. She thought mournfully of the red polish she’d painted onto her toenails the night before and sighed.
Maybe she should try another fling.
Or maybe she should just order another box of books from Molly’s publisher.
Either way, after she stopped by Quinn’s lot tonight, she’d come home to take a bath and read a dirty story. Then maybe she’d think about going shopping for a pair of open-toed heels that would click against the ground instead of thud. She jogged back in to call Molly.
As she grabbed the phone, her thoughts were interrupted by a startling chirp from the receiver in her hand. She nearly dropped it, which would have pissed her off immensely. As it was, she’d had to replace two phones already this year. One had fallen victim to the big, clumsy hands of her least-favorite plow driver. The other had somehow gotten itself mixed up with a big tub of lube, which wasn’t nearly as fun as it sounded. Not for a phone anyway.
“Love’s Garage,” she snapped into the phone.
“Ms. Love?”
“Yes.”
“Hello! This is Christopher Tipton!” Chris always announced his name as if she’d won a prize.
Lori slumped onto a stool. “Hey, Chris.” She’d known him since grade school, but she had a feeling he wasn’t calling to reminisce. “What’s going on?”
“I was just wondering if you’ve had time to think over selling that parcel of land we discussed in February.”
That parcel of land, he said, as if it hadn’t been everything her dad had ever dreamed of. “Look, Chris, I’m sorry. It’s only been a few mon—” Actually, that wasn’t true anymore. It had been a whole year since her dad had died. Jesus. When had that happened?
“I know it’s difficult to consider. And I know it hasn’t been that long for you, but I think you’ll find that Tipton & Tremaine has put together a very generous offer—”
“I just…I need more time.”
He sighed. “I understand. Just promise you won’t consider any other offers without contacting me first. I can assure you that we want to preserve the natural beauty of the place. We’re not talking a big two-hundred-house development here. Just a small group of sportsmen’s cottages along the river.”
“Yeah, I get it,” she muttered, thinking about the kind of “cottages” his firm usually built. Something more along the lines of a grand hunting lodge that could easily house seven families. Or one enormously rich one. It had always struck her as funny that rich families needed so much space for their one-point-eight children.
“I won’t consider anything without calling you. Promise.”
“Okay, I’ll—”
“Bye.” Lori hung up and kicked the steel beam in front of her, glad she wasn’t wearing heels now.
J EEZ L OUISE , Lori thought as she turned onto Quinn Jennings’s so-called driveway; it looked more like a dirt trail. He really was roughing it up here. She’d never have even slowed if not for the Jennings’s Lot sign tacked to a fence post. The correct placement of the apostrophe made her smile.
Her truck scraped beneath the low branches of lodgepole pines and stirred up the scent of the green aspen. Even in August the air was crisp and cool in the shade. Boy, it would be cold up here in winter. Did he plan to stay year-round?
When she finally emerged from the trees, Lori felt a little shock. She hadn’t known what to expect, but it hadn’t been this. A tiny log cabin stood at the edge of a meadow blooming with wildflowers. The music of running water floated on the air, audible even over the heavy sound of her motor. It seemed more likely she’d find a herd of elk here than a construction site.
But when she drew closer, the backhoe appeared behind the cabin, frozen like a strange giraffe lowering its head in defeat. Lori drove toward it, not even noticing Quinn until she’d parked and gotten out.
He stood at a drafting table set up on the tiny back porch of the cabin, facing the sun-drenched trees to the east. It was no surprise that he didn’t look up when Lori slammed the door of her truck. Quinn had a singular skill of tuning out the whole world when he was working on something important to him. This was clearly important.
“Hey, Quinn,” she called anyway.
“Hey,” he answered, without even a glance.
She smiled at his bent head, noticing the glint of sun against his light brown hair. “I’m just going to check out the backhoe for you.”
“Sure.” He frowned ferociously at something on the big drafting sheet and began to draw. Hunched over like that, he looked shorter than his nearly six feet, but his shoulders seemed wider than she remembered. His hands…Well, his hands moved with that elegant precision she’d noticed even when she was a nerdy teenager.
Lori grinned at the sight of those hands moving over the paper. The nice thing about Quinn was that she could probably stand there for an hour watching him, and he’d never notice. Lovely man. No idle conversation to disturb her daydreaming. Still, she was going to lose her light if she didn’t hurry.
After tucking a brown curl behind her ear, she climbed up into the machine. It was an old model—a strange lemon color, freckled with rust spots and complete with a small dozing shovel on the front. Quinn must have picked it up from one of his contractors for a steal. And what man wouldn’t want to own a big ol’ construction machine? Lori didn’t even need one, but she was tempted to ask if she could borrow it when Quinn was done. Surely she could find some stuff to move around the junkyard behind her house.
The key was already in the ignition, so Lori turned it. There was a faint electric hum, but nothing else. She let out a breath at the sound. Good, this was probably something she could fix. If it had been a problem with the hydraulics, Quinn would’ve had to call in someone more expensive.
She tried again, listening more closely. It was almost certainly the starter, and hopefully this model had an electric starter and not one of those air-start systems. If it was an air-start, she’d have to refer him to a diesel specialist after all. Lori jumped down to take a look.
Half an hour later, she wiped her hands on a rag and spent a few minutes writing down part numbers and brands. She could fix this, no problem.
“Quinn, I’m going to have to order two parts, but I should have them in a couple of days. I’ll be back then.”
“Great,” was his only response, though he followed it up with a hurried, “Thanks.” The sun was still slanting across the clearing, throwing Quinn even deeper in shadow.
Lori shook her head. Not one of her other customers would say “great” without even asking the price. Then again, she didn’t usually work on the Aspen side of the pass.
She allowed herself one last glance at him, watched him rub his thumb thoughtfully across his bottom lip for a few moments and then Lori headed home.
Q UINN J ENNINGS blinked from his thoughts about angles and sunlight and shadows. He glanced around in confusion, then looked down to the cell phone barely hanging on to the edge of the drafting table. Nope, no call coming in. He looked around one more time, wondering what had changed. Then he realized what had distracted him: the silence.
The backhoe stood alone, still frozen. Lori Love had been here, climbing over the machine and making a racket. She must’ve left at some point, and Quinn was pretty sure he hadn’t even said goodbye. Wincing in guilt, he backtracked his memory. She’d said something about ordering parts, so she’d be back in a few days and he’d be sure to offer her a coffee or something civilized like that.
Just then the setting sun broke through the pines, streaking past the quaking aspen leaves and casting mottled, moving shadows against the big boulder that marked the eastern edge of the clearing. That was exactly what he’d been looking for, just that tone and timing of light.
Quinn threw off any thoughts of visitors and began sketching furiously, capturing his new vision for the entry of the house. Losing track of the world around him was a high price to pay, but it always got Quinn just what he wanted. At work, anyway. And if he concentrated hard enough, he never had to think about the rest of his life, or lack thereof.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_a0702b9d-7780-522c-b783-9d3f53e79ca9)
The man—she didn’t know his name and didn’t want to—roughly tugged her pants to her knees and pushed her facedown over the table.
“Don’t say a word.”
She nodded and bit her lip in desperate anticipation. When his calloused, unfamiliar hands touched her hip, she jumped and gasped. The tension was already winding tight within her, a serpent looking for release.
Holding her steady with one hand, the man pushed the head of himself against her opening.
No stroking, no preparation. He just guided himself close and shoved hard and deep. It didn’t matter. She was already wet.
Marguerite screamed.
L ORI SET THE BOOK DOWN with a guilty glance around her. Joe hadn’t returned from his towing run yet, but she still felt bad because she was sitting in Love’s Garage, surrounded by her father’s tools, and totally aroused from reading a dirty book. Sure, it was a Saturday, but this wasn’t even borderline professional behavior. She should’ve at least retreated to her house. Maybe to the bedroom. She eyed the clock. Three hours more to go. Although she was the boss….
The phone rang, cutting off any chance she could slip off to her bedroom for some personal time. “Hello?” She tossed the compilation of erotic stories onto the worktable.
“Lori, it’s Ben.”
“Hey, Ben.” He was calling to tell her he’d been wrong. He must be.
“I know I must have shocked you the other day. Are you doing all right?”
“Sure, I’m fine.” Just tense and irritable and restless.
“Good. I’m still waiting on more information. Old cases take a backseat in the state system, of course. But in the meantime, I wondered if you could answer a few questions.”
Lori blinked. “Um, sure. But I wasn’t here when the acci—when he was hurt.”
“I just mean some general thoughts. Did your dad have any enemies? I don’t mean Capulet-Montague kind of stuff. Just some guy he never got along with. Maybe a garage owner in Grand Valley he was stealing business from. A customer accusing him of fraud or theft.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
“A woman? Was he dating someone, or maybe a few someones?”
She blinked again, struck by how strange the idea was. “Not that I know of.”
“Okay. That’s fine. It’s nothing urgent. I just want you to keep these questions simmering in the back of your mind. Write down anything you think of. Any reason at all someone could’ve been after your father. Money and passion are the two most common denominators in these situations.”
“Yeah, but…” Lori closed her eyes and rubbed her free hand over her face. “Ben, I’m sure it was just some stupid barroom brawl. Nobody wanted anything from him. He didn’t have anything.”
“You’re probably right, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t consider every angle. I don’t mean to upset you—”
“No, I’m sorry. I can’t say I’m happy about this, but it means a lot that you’re looking into it. I’ll help any way I can.”
“Thanks, Lori. Call me if you think of anything, or if you just need to talk, all right?”
Just after she hung up, Joe roared into the lot with a suddenness that made Lori jump. Dust floated up in his wake while she rubbed her eyes.
“Nothing serious?” she called hoarsely when he descended from the cab.
“Flat tire. Nobody can change a flat tire anymore, you ever notice that?”
Yes, of course she’d noticed, and had said as much the first thousand times they’d had this conversation. Still, the auto clubs paid them thirty dollars a pop to fix a flat, so the decline of manly civilization was just fine with Lori. Joe inclined his head toward the phone.
“Another run?”
“No, just a personal call.” She eyed him as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped sweat from the nape of his neck. He looked old, suddenly. He’d been older than her father by a few years, but they’d been as close as brothers. And Joe had been like a second father to her.
He’d worked in the garage since before Lori was born. But he’d been more than an employee.
Joe had picked her up from school countless times, applauded her achievements, lectured her about boys and drinking. She wouldn’t have been able to care for her father if Joe hadn’t been there to pick up the slack in the garage. She hadn’t been able to pay him enough for essentially running the garage for those first few years, but Joe had never complained. Not once.
And he’d known her dad better than anyone.
“Joe, can I ask you something?”
He shrugged and dropped into a chair. “You know you can ask me anything. Shoot.”
“I’ve been thinking about my dad lately. I wasn’t here those last few months before his accident. What was his life like after I left?”
Joe shrugged. “Same as always, really. Work. Fish. Grab a beer.”
“Was he dating anyone?”
She must have surprised him. Joe tucked his chin in. “Dating? Nothing serious that he ever mentioned. There was a waitress over in Grand Valley he stepped out with sometimes, even when you were still here. A woman over in Eagle he saw once or twice. But he was a loner. After your mom left…” He squinted up at her. “He wasn’t much on relationships after that.”
Lori cringed. Her mother had run off when Lori was five. She’d left both of them behind and never looked back. She’d died about eight years ago from liver failure. Hepatitis C. So Lori was officially an orphan.
“She wrote me once,” Joe said, shocking Lori so much that she gasped.
“What?”
“Your mom. She wrote to me. You were probably fifteen by then. She wanted to know how you were doing.”
“But…why did she write to you? ”
Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his knees and stared at the floor. “She was too ashamed to write to your dad, maybe. I wrote back to tell her how amazing you were. Smart and hardworking. I never heard nothing after that.”
Lori cleared her throat. “You don’t think she ever got in touch with my dad?”
His eyes rose quickly to meet hers. He held her gaze for a long moment. “He never said anything about it.”
“Yeah.” Nodding, she kicked the cement with her boot. “I guess she never did. Thanks for telling me, Joe.”
“You bet, darlin’. Anything else you want to know?”
“No. I’m gonna head up to Quinn Jennings’s place. If there aren’t any calls in the next thirty minutes, you can go. Just forward the phone to my cell.” She grabbed her book to head for the door, but Joe cleared his throat and stopped her.
“Say, before you go…Have you thought anymore about selling your dad’s lot?”
Lori managed not to groan. What was it with that piece of land? Sure, it bordered a good stretch of the river, but it didn’t hide access to an old silver mine. Or maybe it did. “Joe, I’m sorry. I’m just not ready. I know it’s been a year now, but my dad was so happy when he bought it. You know what I mean.”
Joe held up his hands and offered a sad smile, the sympathy in his eyes a familiar comfort. He’d made an offer on the land soon after the accident when he’d realized she was having financial problems, and if she was going to sell to anyone, it would be to Joe. He loved that place and fished there all the time, even though his fishing buddy was gone.
She joined him sometimes, and it was as if her father was there with them, too. Just like the old days. Her two favorite people in the world.
Joe’s scarred fingers closed over her elbow. “No pressure, Lori. You just say the word when you’re ready to discuss it. Say, whatcha reading there?” He stood, starting to reach for the book, but Lori danced out of his way.
“I’ll see you Monday!” she called, grabbing her keys to head for Quinn’s cabin.
After rolling down the window and speeding out of the lot, Lori shoved a CD into the player and turned it up way too loud. The wind wreaked havoc on her hair, but for once, Lori didn’t care. The loud music and the beautiful day chased away her ghosts, mostly because she wanted them to.
Whatever had happened in her life, whoever she was, she needed to be free of it, just for a moment. Her hair, the one thing she loved about her looks, bounced and writhed in the wind. The music thrummed a sexy beat through her body. And the cool air made her cheeks glow pink.
She was twenty-nine years old. An orphan, sure. A single woman with no prospects. But she was hardly dried up and done. What she needed was a distraction.
Ben had stirred up dusty memories, and if she didn’t distract herself, she’d find herself living with ghosts. It wouldn’t be a long trip for her. She was living in her dad’s house, driving her dad’s trucks, doing her dad’s work. If she wasn’t careful, she’d turn into a fifty-nine-year-old man with a salt-and-pepper beard and hairy arms.
She needed a distraction. She needed to be a girl. No, not a girl. A woman. A fling would offer that much at least, and give her something pleasant to think about while Ben screwed with her life.
Or would it? She’d had casual sex before, and fireworks hadn’t exactly exploded behind her eyes. Firecrackers, maybe, down a little lower. Pop! And that was it. Night of adventure over. What the hell kind of distraction would that be? She needed… more.
In all honesty, Lori had never been as aroused in a man’s arms as she was reading the erotica that Molly had her hooked on. And despite the rumors around town, she wasn’t the least bit interested in women. So what did that mean? Did she need more…kink? Did she want a stranger to treat her with rough force like that last story she’d read?
“God, I don’t think so,” she muttered to her steering wheel.
Did she want to be tied up, spanked, or passed around a werewolf pack? Because she’d liked all those stories, too. Laughter bubbled up and made her snort. That werewolf fantasy would be a hard one to pull off. She’d have to troll through the forest in high heels, just praying one of the scruffy campers was actually a raving beast.
Her truck roared as it strained up the steep climb to the summit, but Lori barely noticed the impressive view. She was too busy analyzing her sexual needs.
No werewolves then, but what about all the other stuff?
She hadn’t been at college long enough to go out with more than one boy, no time for experimentation, and since then she was just…dating. Barely. Her frustrated groan broke in two when she hit a rut in the road. Dating. She’d only met a few men she’d even wanted to sleep with and couldn’t imagine asking any one of those guys to spank her.
Though Jean-Paul probably knew how to spank a girl. He’d probably done it dozens of times. Maybe she should call him. Maybe—
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Lori growled. She didn’t even want to be spanked. She just wanted to have a spectacular orgasm or two. She wanted spark and sizzle and a whole damn conflagration.
Her life was about to speed past thirty, but a real relationship was out of the question. She might not have a plan to escape her life, but she wasn’t ready to surrender to it completely. Someday she would leave Tumble Creek, find a way to move on. But for right now she wanted…more. Any excuse not to think about her problems.
Instead of worrying, she wanted to be glowing, moaning, panting. Wet. Just like the women in those books.
New shoes definitely wouldn’t do that for her, but it would be a start. A signal that she was ready and willing. And maybe, just maybe, the perfect stranger would come along and coax her to slip those shoes off. Or, better yet…order her to keep them on.
Lori gunned the engine and climbed toward the sky.
“H I , Q UINN ,” a voice said from right beside him. Much as he wanted to keep taking notes for his latest idea, Quinn resolutely put the pencil down and turned toward his visitor. When he saw her familiar curly brown hair and green eyes, he smiled.
“Lori!” He pulled her into a hug.
“Oh…Hi!” she squeaked, and Quinn quickly let her go.
“How’ve you been?”
“Good. You know…the same.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her gray coveralls as a gust of wind blew up from behind her. Her curls bounced, tugged by the breeze, and her cheeks turned pinker as he watched.
“Well, you look great. Want a cup of coffee?”
“Um, no, I don’t think so. I’d better just get to work. I got those parts in last night.”
“Come on. Have coffee with me. I feel bad about last time.”
“What about last time?” she asked, though she walked into the cabin when he waved her on. With her hands in the pockets, Quinn noticed the way the baggy coveralls pulled tight across her ass. He was pretty sure he hadn’t seen her in anything but coveralls in the last five years. Maybe ten.
He edged past her to start up the small coffee machine he’d plugged into the generator line. When he spun back toward Lori, she was turning in a slow circle.
“Are you actually living here?”
He glanced toward the bed. “Sometimes.”
Her boots clomped against the scarred wood floor. Quinn looked from the steel-toed leather up to the delicate shape of her face and shook his head.
Lori frowned. “Why are you shaking your head at me?”
“Nothing. Yeah, I’ve been staying up here most of the summer.”
She cast another doubtful look around the tiny one-room cabin. “Where do you keep your suits?”
“Back at my place in Aspen. I head there every morning to shower and dress. The solar water heater isn’t particularly effective after a cold night up here.”
“I guess not! I can’t believe it’s so cold up here in the middle of August. It was nice in Tumble Creek.” She shuddered, eyeing the coffeemaker.
Quinn laughed and grabbed a mug to pour her the first cup.
She glanced out the window. “You must get a lot of bears up here.”
“Bears? I don’t know…”
She waved a hand. “They’re all around here, Quinn. So…what did you mean about being sorry for last time?”
“When you came by to look at the backhoe I was a bit absorbed in my work.”
“A bit,” she said with a grin.
“I didn’t even realize you were here until you were gone, then I felt like a complete idiot.”
Lori waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve known you long enough not to be offended. You’ve always been that way. What did your dad used to call you? Doctor Distraction?”
“Yeah.” Quinn grinned.
“But I am glad you emerged from your daze long enough to offer me coffee this time.” She raised her cup in thanks and then gulped half of it. “Nice. I’m almost warm enough to go back out in that wind.”
“Hold on.” Quinn knelt down to rummage through the wooden box he kept next to the counter and dug out a knit cap. He tugged it over her hair. “This will help,” he murmured, as he concentrated on tucking a dozen stray curls under the cap.
“Stop!” She tried to duck away. “I don’t like hats.”
“It’s cold.”
“The coffee is enough.” She finally evaded his hands and yanked the stocking cap off, then stood, straightening out her hair and glaring at him.
“And I’ve always thought you such a simple woman. Who knew you were quirky and irritable?”
Lori rolled her eyes and tossed back the last of the coffee. “I should be done in about forty-five minutes.”
“Wait. Don’t storm out.” He pasted on a mock serious look. “This is turning out even worse than last time. I’m sorry I tried to put a hat on you. I apologize. That was inappropriate and horrible. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Amusement immediately replaced the annoyance on her face, and Lori laughed. “I just don’t like hats, okay? Drop it.”
She’d always had a great smile. In the rare moments on the school bus when both of them hadn’t had their heads stuck in books, Quinn would sometimes hear her laugh and turn to see her brilliant, wide smile. Not often, but that only made the smiles seem more important. And now? Now she was just a mystery. Unknowable and completely self-contained.
But she still had that smile.
He realized just how glad he was to see her. “Thanks for coming up to fix my machine, Lori.”
“You’re welcome, Quinn,” she called sweetly as she stomped toward the door in her big boots. “Give me an hour. Then we can discuss my bonus.”
L ORI PULLED a few more curls back into sproinginess as she stared at the backhoe’s engine. She made very sure that she appeared irritated instead of slightly excited. Those hands she’d wondered about had stroked over her forehead, her cheeks. Elegant as they looked, Quinn’s fingers were slightly rough, raspy from the work he’d done here on the mountain.
But it had been a fraternal sort of touch. As it should have been. Quinn was her best friend’s brother. He thought of her as a little sister or possibly not at all.
“More likely the latter,” she muttered, and forced herself to get to work.
“You say something?”
She jumped and banged an elbow on the angled hood. But Quinn didn’t notice. He was already back to staring down at his drafting table. “What are you working on?” Lori couldn’t help but ask.
He looked up, blinking as he always did when he surfaced for air.
She repeated the question.
“Oh, plans for the house.”
“But you’ve already started building.” She glanced toward the gray lines of concrete she could just make out at the edge of the meadow. “The foundation looks set.”
“Yeah, I’ve completed all the floor plans. Actually, I had everything done, but now I’m stumbling over the design details. I keep changing them.” He smiled in a self-deprecating way. “I do this every day for other people, but it’s much harder working on a house I plan to live in for decades. A brilliant new idea will come to me, then the next morning it’s clearly crap. I think I have a new sympathy for clients and their ever-evolving ideas.”
“That’s probably a good thing.” Lori looked around at the meadow and the trees and the blank expanse of sky suspended above the cliff. “You come here for inspiration then?”
His eyes lit up. “Exactly! The light, the color…shades and hues that change from minute to minute. I need to get the windows just right, the height and shape of them. The texture of the walls against the light. I need to know what the views will be in morning and afternoon and evening.” His hands gestured, and Lori greedily watched every arc, every twitch.
“That evening you were here,” he continued, “right after you left, the sun burst through the aspen, and I finally realized just the type of window I should place above the front door. The exact grade of stone to use on the fireplace where it rises up to the second floor…Shit, I’m sorry.”
Lori shook off the spell he’d cast with his bright eyes and deep voice. “What?”
“Sorry. I know I tend to go way past the boredom mark for most people. Not just computer engineers are nerds, I’m afraid.”
“No, I think it’s amazing! You look like you’re in love.”
“Oh.” He actually blushed. This tall, successful man standing in front of a log cabin in a flannel shirt. He blushed.
“It’s sweet!” Lori assured him.
“Yeah, great. Sweet. The ultimate nerd compliment.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. When he scowled, she laughed harder. “Give it up, Quinn. I’m not going to feel sorry for you. Even if you could convince me you’re a nerd, you’re still hot and rich and successful. Poor baby.”
Shaking her head, she set to work on removing the old starter. Maybe he was nerdy in the strictest sense of the word, but she knew plenty of girls in her junior high class who’d thought him tantalizingly mysterious before he’d gone off to college. Bookish and distracted took on a whole different meaning when the boy in question was also gorgeous and kind.
“Hot?” she heard him ask, and looked up to see him leaning against the porch rail watching her.
“Huh?”
“Hot. You said I was hot.” He kept his mouth serious, but his hazel eyes danced with laughter.
This time Lori’s face heated. She waved her wrench in his general direction. “I was just stroking your ego.”
“Well, nice work. It felt good, your stroking.”
She growled in frustration. “Go away. I can’t work with you staring at me.”
“You mentioned a bonus earlier. What did you mean?”
Something playful and husky had entered his voice, confusing her. And the word stroking was still echoing through her limbs. “Nothing,” she blurted out. “I just hoped you’d let me borrow the backhoe sometime. When you’re done with it.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes. Now could you please leave me alone?”
“But you’re in my office.” The aspens shook in the face of a gust, as if confirming his words.
“Fine. Look at your trees then. Not me.”
“I don’t want to be inhospitable.” She thought his gaze flicked down her body in a quick caress, which was silly since she was in her standard gray coveralls.
Suddenly, she really hated what she was wearing. It was Saturday. Maybe she should have arrived in a tank top and cutoff shorts with a plan to find many reasons to bend over while working. Of course, that would be before the frostbite set in.
Lori turned her back. “Fine then. Work and talk.”
“About what?”
Shrugging, she made sure to sound casual. “Where was the first place you went in Europe? You studied there, didn’t you? Tell me about it.”
After a long moment of silence, he did. His voice softened after a time, as if he were talking to himself, but Lori absorbed every word and stored it away for later.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_2456963f-f0f4-5ca0-93e9-d74bdb2935a8)
T HE BRIGHT RUBY PUSHPINS were reserved for special occasions. Shaped like faceted jewels, they made Lori smile each time she used one. She rolled the pin back and forth between her thumb and finger, then pushed it carefully into the word Córdoba.
Quinn’s story deserved a ruby pin. He’d described the buildings of Córdoba with passion, eyes sparkling, hands shaping the arches and doorways of the ancient city. He’d spoken of domes and spires and mosaics like an artist speaking of love or sex. And Lori had gotten turned on listening to him, embarrassingly enough. Maybe her fetish was architecture.
Once the pin was perfectly even with all the others, Lori stepped back to take it in. Pins covered most of Europe and spread out from there. Blue and black and yellow and green. Each pin representing a story someone had told her or she’d read in a book. Each color a measure of her desire to visit that place. The ruby pins…Those cities would be her first stops.
Someday.
She’d planned her escape from the first day of sixth grade, when the new teacher had shown pictures of her summer trip: sixty days of backpacking through Europe. Lori had felt her heart swell with lust. That passion had grown, building upon itself with every book she checked out from the library, every documentary she watched on PBS. It had filled her up all the way through high school, leaving no room for interest in boys. All her concentration had gone into saving and studying to get into Boston College.
And she’d done it. She’d gotten into the international business program, and even scored a coveted scholarship to spend a semester at a university in the Netherlands for her sophomore year.
Lori’s heart spasmed, throwing sparks of pain against the walls of her chest.
Her dad had been so proud, refusing to even admit to a hint of loneliness during the four months she’d been at college. And then—
“Jesus,” Lori cursed. Skulking down memory lane was one of her least favorite activities. She spun away from the map and hit the light switch, plunging her old bedroom into darkness. Before she’d made her way down to the first floor, the doorbell rang, and Lori sprinted the last few steps.
When she opened the door, Molly rushed in and pulled her into a hug. “You really want to go shopping? ”
Lori pulled away and her gaze fell on the Aspen Living magazine she’d left on the couch. A pair of shoes she’d been lusting after for three days graced the back cover, not that she could afford them.
“Yeah, I think I do.”
Molly looked from the magazine to Lori’s face and nodded solemnly. “All right then. Let’s go buy some shoes.”
“Okay. And…and a dress.”
Already turning toward the door, Molly froze to stare openmouthed at her. “My God. Are you serious? I thought you were all about jeans.”
“I was. But I’m turning over a new leaf. I think.”
“A new, sexy leaf! Considering how good you look in jeans, I think you’re about to rock this town. And I just saw the perfect dress for you last week. We are going to have So. Much. Fun. ”
Lori couldn’t help but grin back at her. “Okay.”
“I made reservations at Peak for nine, so we’ve got a full four hours. Let’s do this.”
She nodded. “Let’s do this.”
Once they were in Molly’s cherry-red SUV and on the road to Aspen, Molly gave her a searching look. “Soo…”
“What?”
Her friend shot her another meaningful glance, but Lori just shrugged blankly.
“So…” Molly said, “is this an ‘I’m every woman,’ Oprah kind of makeover? Or is it a ‘that guy is hot and I want to do him’ kind of makeover?”
Lori glanced down at her too-short nails, noticing that she hadn’t quite gotten the grease cleaned from one of them. She clenched them into fists. “Both maybe. I don’t know why, but I just feel like buying some heels. Looking like a girl. And I want to do someone.”
“Who?” Molly’s eyebrows had flown nearly up to her hairline. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ooo, did you see him at The Bar? The café? Is he one of the mountain bikers in town for the race? Maybe—”
“Whoa, there, paperback writer. I mean I don’t know who I want to do. Just someone. Someone tall and strong and cute.” With nice hands, something in her head added without her even considering it.
“Oh, my God!” her friend cried. Lori had a sudden, strangling fear that Molly was about to yell something about Quinn, but she didn’t. “Lori’s gonna get her groove on!” she squealed instead, just before she started singing “Super Freak” in a loud, off-key alto.
“All right. Okay. I want to ask you something serious. Ready?”
Molly pulled her mouth into a severe line and narrowed her eyes, though her nostrils still flared with amusement. “I’m ready.”
Tiny raindrops pattered against the windshield as they neared the summit, and Lori chose to watch those instead of her friend’s face. “Um…Those stories you write? Are they always…? Um…”
“Excellent? Why, yes, they are.”
“Shut up.” Lori drew a breath. Molly liked to crack jokes, but she was a good person and a great friend, and the only one Lori could even dream of talking to about these things. She set her shoulders and plowed ahead. “I’m asking if they’re always stories about things you like?”
Molly turned her narrowed eyes toward Lori. “Are you asking if I like S and M?”
“No! I mean…No, I don’t care about whether or not Ben ties you up and makes you call him Daddy.”
“Nice,” Molly snorted.
“I’m just wondering if you can write about things you’re not into. If you find some things exciting, even if you’d never actually do them.”
“Absolutely,” Molly answered quickly, making Lori wonder if she and her writer friends had these types of conversations all the time. Some of the tension left her shoulders.
“I’ve got a friend,” Molly went on, “Delilah Hughes. She writes stories about pretty heavy submission and bondage. Stuff I’m totally not into. But her books are beautifully done, charged with emotion and conflict. Very sexy. I love them. And Ben always appreciates it when I read them, if you know what I mean.”
Lori rolled her eyes. “I think I might.”
“But sometimes it’s not really a matter of what you’re into. It depends on who you’re with. There are—” Molly wiggled her eyebrows meaningfully “— things I’d do with Ben that I’d never do with anyone else.”
“Deer,” Lori called out, thankful for the opportunity to change the subject. She had the answer she wanted.
The car slowed to a crawl as Molly drove by the doe staring from the shoulder of the road. They both watched until it finally burst into flight and disappeared into the trees. Silence reigned while Molly concentrated on the road, but if the doe was part of a herd, the rest had stayed well hidden. Two minutes later, the mist cleared, and sunlight exploded around them.
“Hey, we’re out of the clouds!” Molly cheered, and she was right. They’d been thrust into a beautiful, sunny evening, and the air inside the truck warmed by fifteen degrees in the bright rays.
When Lori rolled down her window, the green scent of wet grass poured over her. She breathed deep.
“So what is it?” Molly asked, lowering her voice to a stage whisper. “Spanking?”
A gnat flew down Lori’s throat. Or else she was choking on mortification and horror. Coughing, she glared and shook her head.
“Oh, come on. Everyone likes to read about spanking. Or a three-way. Is it two men? Is that what you’re thinking about? I’ve never done that. You should do it.”
“No! No, no, no! I don’t think I want to try any of those things, I’m just…missing something.”
“Okay.” Molly relented, and reached out to pat her hand. “I get it. You’re restless and horny. Maybe you should go stay in Aspen for a whole weekend. Get a love nest at The Lodge. Pick up a cute guy. I’d come for moral support, but I think the Chief might object.”
“Definitely.”
“But you’ll think about it?”
Lori felt a little shiver of nervousness. “I don’t know. Let’s get through tonight, see how it feels.”
“Deal.” Her friend glanced away from the road to grin at her like a proud mama. “My little girl is all grown-up.”
“You’re embarrassing me, Mother.”
Molly let out one of her loud, boundless laughs, the kind that pulled everyone in whether they felt like laughing or not. Lori was no exception.
So she laughed into the wind, a weight rolling from her shoulders to bounce away into the forest. But without the weight, she felt a little hollow once she’d stopped laughing. Lori cleared her throat. “So Ben thinks someone might have killed my dad.”
The car jerked, hitting the soft shoulder for a brief moment that raised up clanging pebbles. “What?” Molly gasped.
“He stopped by the other day while you were at the store to tell me he was reopening the case.”
“What do you mean? He thinks someone came into your house and killed your dad?”
“No, he thinks someone purposefully bashed his skull in ten years ago. He didn’t tell you?”
“Oh, Jesus,” Molly breathed. The truck slowed considerably. “No, he didn’t tell me. You know what a stickler he is about confidentiality. But…why would he think your dad was killed?”
“There’s some evidence, but nothing concrete. I honestly don’t want to talk about it tonight, but I wanted to tell you. Just in case I have three martinis and start blubbering.”
“Oh, but, Lori, you’re—”
“No, seriously. No talking about it. I need a night out in the worst way. So let’s have fun. Show me a good time.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Molly watched her for a long moment, then turned determined eyes back to the road. “All right then. I have my mission.”
T HE MAÎTRE D ’ SMILED over his shoulder for the second time since he’d started leading them toward a table. Lori felt Molly’s elbow dig into her side and nudged her back, but she couldn’t help a little thrill of excitement. The man was flirting with her. Lori Love. And she was flirting back.
She smoothed a hand nervously over the flared skirt of the midnight-blue sundress. Without Molly’s encouragement, she’d never have even tried on the strapless silk dress, much less paired it with a pair of deep red shoes. But now she felt daring and feminine and sexy. And giddy as hell.
“Ladies,” the host said with a charming purr, sweeping his hand toward a table that overlooked the street outside.
“Thank you,” Lori said, trying not to giggle like a teenager when he winked at her.
“Paul will be your server tonight, but I’m Marcus. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”
“We will, thanks.”
By the time she’d settled into the chair he held out, arranging her skirts carefully so they wouldn’t get wrinkled, Lori could feel that Molly was about to burst. She looked up to find her grinning over her clasped hands.
“You look so pretty. And you’re glowing, Lori!”
“Maybe I put on too much blush.”
“Maybe you’re in heat!” Her eyes dropped lower. “My God I’m a genius. That dress is perfect for your body.”
“Thank you for helping me. I even look like I have boobs.”
“How crazy is that?”
Lori kicked her with one brand-new shoe.
“All right, I’ll be serious. You look gorgeous, so keep an eye out. There isn’t a man here who’d be able to resist you.”
“ That’s being serious? I’m ridiculously short, I’ve got a face like a grumpy pixie, and there’s black grease under my nails.”
“You look like a hot pixie tonight, darling. And everybody knows that pixies are little whores.”
“Hey, I think I read that book!” They were both snorting quite unsexily when the waiter came to take their drink order.
When he hurried away, Molly went suddenly wide-eyed. “Oh, my God. Look!”
Lori swung around, and immediately spotted the person who’d caused Molly’s shock. He was handsome, tall, and he had exquisite hands, though she couldn’t see them from this far away. Quinn was standing next to a table on the other side of the restaurant, a napkin clutched in his fist, and his eyes locked on…Lori.
Her heart flipped as she spun back to stare down at her silverware. When she’d first looked at herself in the mirror at the store, she’d had a brief, mad wish that she’d run into Quinn tonight. And here he was. Maybe she was a pixie.
When she noticed Molly smiling up as if her brother were getting closer, her heart fluttered.
Where the hell were those drinks? Flirting with a stranger was one thing, but now she had the acute sense that she looked foolish. A fraud. A sow’s ear trying very hard to become a silk purse, or whatever that damn expression was. She pulled nervously at a curl and wondered if she’d already licked all her lipstick off.
“Hey, Quinn!” Molly said, and Lori nearly knocked her bottle of mineral water over.
When he didn’t reply, she couldn’t stand the suspense and had to look up…straight into his hazel eyes. “Lori?” he breathed. Heat climbed up her chest, burning all the way up to her hairline.
“Hey,” she managed to croak. It didn’t help that he looked unbelievably elegant. His dark gray suit was set off perfectly by a white shirt and silver-green tie. He’d seemed like plain old Quinn this morning, but she was abruptly reminded that his life was a world away from hers.
“Hellooo?” Molly interrupted. “I’m Molly, your loving sister.”
“Hey, Moll.” His eyes didn’t leave Lori’s. “What did you do to Lori?”
“Got her horny with my award-winning writing.”
“Gah,” Lori choked, and broke free of Quinn’s eyes to shoot an outraged glare at Molly. Her friend grinned in response, but her mouth got more serious when she looked up to Quinn, then down to Lori and back up again.
“Why?” she drawled. “What did you do to Lori?”
He opened his mouth but didn’t say a word, then seemed to shake off whatever shock he’d been laboring under. “You look beautiful, Lori. Really amazing. I’m afraid my new client thinks I’ve got epilepsy now. I choked on a piece of jicama when you walked in.”
“Oh! Thank you.”
“That color is amazing. Like blue steel.”
“I…just…”
Molly tapped his arm. “Quinn, that blonde is waving at you. I think she’s pissed.”
“Shit,” he muttered. “I’d better go. It’s probably not professional to get caught drooling on my mechanic. I’ll see you soon, all right?”
“Oh. Yeah. Okay.”
Despite his words, he stood staring at her for so long that she got dizzy from holding her breath. Then he grinned and walked back to the fancy world where he belonged.
Lori couldn’t help but watch him the whole way, and goose bumps rose on her skin when he turned halfway to his table and winked at her.
“Lori,” Molly said in a very steady voice. Suspiciously steady.
Bracing herself, she turned back to face the scrutiny. “Hmm?”
“Lori, are you interested in being spanked by my brother? ”
Hot and cold rushed over her at the same time; she leaned forward, almost landing her chin in the pomegranate martini she hadn’t even seen arrive. “You are the worst friend in the world!” she whispered. “I can’t believe you’d ask me that!”
Molly seemed unfazed. She lifted her glass and took a sip, eyes unwavering in their focus. “You were just asking me about dirty things, Lori Love. Remember? And then Quinn walks over here and stares at you like you’re a raspberry truffle dipped in honey cream.”
“He…A what?”
“I’m sorry. That was too much, huh? Too erotica-y? Too much creamy goodness?”
Lori wrapped her fingers around the stem of her martini glass. “God, you are strange.”
“Don’t change the subject. Do you want to do dirty things with my brother or not?”
“No!” Her brain seemed to vibrate at the word, like an internal lie-detector test. “Of course not. I just fixed his backhoe. That’s it.”
“Got his engine running?”
“Stop it.”
“Hey!” Molly protested. “I could’ve said something about being a hoe, but I didn’t.”
Frustration built up inside her, but when it boiled over, it just disappeared, steam spreading out into the air. The curses she wanted to yell morphed into laughter, and she collapsed against the linen tablecloth. “Can’t you ever be serious?” she gasped.
“I’m working on it, I swear. But I have to save it all up for Ben so he won’t lose his mind. You only have to tolerate me for short periods. Suck it up. Anyway, I’m supposed to be showing you a good time, remember?”
What could she do but nod? Molly was her best friend, and her life had been one long gray haze before Molly had returned to Tumble Creek last year. It had been so much less gray since. “Okay, I suppose I can tolerate you. By the way…Did Quinn say he was drooling?”
A smile started small on Molly’s lips, but it gradually spread into a wide grin. Her eyes sparkled like happy jewels. “That,” she answered, “is exactly what he said.”
Lori polished off her drink and then stared down into the empty glass. She tried even breathing, but it didn’t seem to work. “I-think-I-want-to-do-dirty-things-with-Quinn,” she forced out, and then raised her heavy gaze to Molly’s. “But I can’t.”
The sparkle left her friend’s eyes and she finally got serious. “Why? I admit, we won’t be able to gossip about the details, but I don’t have any objection otherwise.”
“He’s your brother.”
Molly placed both her hands flat on the table and leaned slowly forward. “I only have circumstantial evidence,” she whispered, “but I’m almost certain he’s not a virgin.”
“That’s not the point. The point is I’m not looking for a relationship, I just want to use someone for sex.”
A throat cleared from somewhere just over her shoulder. When she turned to see the waiter standing there, she wasn’t even embarrassed, just incredibly relieved it wasn’t Quinn.
“Shall I give you another moment?” He was turning away before Lori finished explaining that they hadn’t looked at the menus yet.
“He’s very tense,” Molly said.
“Well, then he shouldn’t walk up on people so quietly.”
“No, I meant Quinn. Quinn’s very tense. I think he could handle being used. Might be good for him. He has trouble sleeping.”
“I’m not going to use your brother! And I don’t think he’s volunteering.”
“Oh, he’s volunteering,” Molly scoffed. “I think he’s ready to have his tires rotated, if you know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t know what you mean. Is that supposed to be sexy?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay, I can see we’re moving away from serious here.” Lori sighed. “So let me put this simply. I’m looking for a little fun. No attachment. And definitely not someone I’ll see all the time afterward. Quinn is not an option.”
Molly rolled her eyes. “How many times have you seen Quinn in the past decade? Five or six times?”
“Are you determined to pimp your brother out?”
She slumped and waved a dismissive hand. “Fine. Never mind. Whatever you do, don’t sleep with Quinn. Anyway, you’ve got another option. Our waiter is talking to the maître d’—I think he’s passing on your secret message.”
Lori twisted around to find both men smiling in her direction. Great. She suddenly felt less like a powerful sexual creature and more like prey. She’d exposed her soft underbelly, now one of them would move in for the kill.
Finally picking up her menu, Lori just shook her head. “I think heels and a dress are enough for this weekend. I’ll cross the sex bridge next week.”
“Oo, the sex bridge,” Molly murmured, looking over her own menu. “All right, we’ll see how that works out. By the way, Ben said to tell you he might stop by the shop on Monday.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought it was something to do with his truck, but now that I know about your dad, I’m not sure. Just make sure you’re not standing on the sex bridge when he gets there. He might accidentally get on it, and wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”
Picturing Ben catching her in a compromising position, Lori burst into laughter. He’d had enough embarrassment via Molly over the past year, and she didn’t want to put him through any more, but the thought still struck her as hilarious.
Enough with worrying about men. Tonight she was going to have fun. Let the boys watch from afar. And maybe…maybe even drool a little.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_c8f5aadf-95ac-5b98-bb51-2a119c9c6d9c)
T HE SUN BEAT DOWN , hotter than it had been all summer, burning Quinn’s back. If he were working at his site, he would’ve already ditched the shirt, but he wasn’t working. Instead, he was in Tumble Creek, watching Lori.
He hadn’t expected to find her in the garage on a Sunday, but there she was, balanced on the bumper of a half-ton pickup, her small body swallowed by the depths of the engine well. A long, muttered curse bounced off the hood of the truck, something so blatantly obscene that it turned him on. Who’d have thought such a pretty little thing could have such a dirty mouth? Even more shocking, who would’ve thought those coveralls could so thoroughly hide those curves? Not that she was buxom, but last night his eye had recognized the beauty of each perfect proportion. Though not until after he’d recovered from the shock of glancing up and spying some sort of ultrafeminine doppelgänger of Lori Love.
Speaking of spying…Maybe it was creepy of him to stand outside unannounced.
So he said, “Hey, Lori,” and then watched her head rise into a quick and nasty crash with the truck’s hood. “Damn,” he rasped, rushing forward to help. The cursing started again, which would have made him smile if he weren’t worried about her skull.
“Are you okay?”
As she clutched the top of her head, Quinn eased his hands around her waist and lowered her to the ground. “Are you bleeding?”
She slapped his hands away and cursed some more. “You scared the hell out of me!”
“Sorry. You want some ice? Let’s get some ice.”
“I don’t…” Her shoulders slumped. “Okay, fine.” She led the way through the garage and into the house, fingers gingerly exploring her scalp the whole way. “I think it’s all right actually.”
But Quinn didn’t pay any attention; he was busy inhaling the scent of home-cooked food. “My God, that smells good. I was going to ask if you wanted to go grab dinner, but you’ve already got plans, I guess.”
He glanced over to find her staring at him, hand still pressed to her head. “Dinner?”
“Yeah. You’ve already got something in the oven?”
“Yes.”
When she didn’t offer anything more, Quinn felt his stomach sink. “So you’re busy?”
She looked from him to the oven, her green eyes wide with…anxiety? Strange. “No, I’m not busy.”
Well, she wasn’t exactly enthusiastic, but he didn’t plan on giving up that easily. He’d been thinking about Lori Love since yesterday afternoon in his cabin. He’d been thinking seriously about her since last night.
“It smells delicious, did I mention that?”
She finally lost her shocked expression and smiled, rolling her eyes at his obviousness. He’d never claimed to be slick with women.
“Fine, Quinn Jennings. Since I’ve already cooked dinner, would you like to stay and help me eat it?”
“That’s a fantastic idea! I’d love to. Now let’s get some ice.”
“My head feels fine. I’ve got a thick skull. And lots of hair.” She glanced at the clock as she balanced a boot on a kitchen chair to loosen the laces. “It’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes. Just give me a second to change. There’s beer in the fridge.”
His shoulders had already begun to turn toward the ancient beige fridge when his eye caught the motion of her hand rising toward her zipper. He changed direction, turning back toward Lori as she moved the zipper down. The coveralls gaped, and Quinn watched, entranced, as a white tank top was exposed.
At that point, he half expected her to step out of her uniform wearing nothing but a thin white tank and a pair of panties. But Lori tugged the coveralls down with no ceremony, revealing a faded pair of jeans. And the tank top wasn’t that thin, either. Damn.
Seemingly unaware of his train of thought, Lori toed off her boots, pulled off the coveralls, and tossed them over the chair before heading for the bedroom.
Her walk seemed captured on a slow-motion camera; Quinn imagined her hips swaying in nothing but a pair of skimpy blue panties and reached blindly for the handle of the fridge door. He needed a drink. He might not be better with women with a beer or two under his belt, but he forgot how bad he was, at any rate.
After popping a bottle open for Lori, he downed half of his in a few quick swallows. What the hell was he doing here, anyway? Looking to ruin a perfectly good friendship? His track record with relationships so far was zero and…Hell, he didn’t even know the number, which proved the point. But every time he put down his work lately, he started thinking about her and that smile.
Lori Love was an enigma. Though she and Molly had been friends in school, they hadn’t been best friends. Molly had been popular and slightly flighty, while Lori had embodied the stereotype of the scholarly girl. Nose always in a book, extracurricular activities planned with an eye toward college applications, or so Molly had claimed. Lori had studied hard and spent her free time working in Love’s Garage. Quinn had no idea what had happened to her after that, except that she’d gone to Boston College on a full scholarship, then come home when her dad was injured.
And now she seemed like a typical female mechanic, if there was such a thing.
Wandering into the living room, Quinn let his architect’s eye take in the lines of the fifties construction. Nothing had been changed since the original build as far as he could tell. He wasn’t even sure the walls had been painted since then. Certainly the decor hadn’t been updated. Nothing here, absolutely nothing, gave him any clue as to who Lori had become.
Ancient bowling trophies crowded the mantel above the moss rock fireplace. A lamp made from a bowling pin sat on an unremarkable oak table. The couch was frat-house chic.
This was her father’s house, plain and simple. But her father had died over a year ago. Was it grief that kept her from making the place her own? Quinn raised the dusty blinds on one of the small windows and found a view of the garage yard. The sad sight burned through his stomach. He could see why she kept the windows closed.
A creaking floorboard alerted him to her presence, and when he turned, Quinn forgot about old decor and broken-down cars. Her jeans and tank were gone, replaced with white capris and a flirty little red shirt that showed off her shoulders. She chewed on her lip and tugged a few brown curls into compliance. He let his eyes slide all the way down to her bare feet…and bright red toenails.
“Nice toes,” he said stupidly, and watched them curl against the carpet. Clearly he needed to finish the beer. Who the hell told a girl she had nice toes?
When she’d had enough of him staring at her feet, Lori spun for the kitchen and opened the oven. “Another few minutes,” she muttered. “I’ll make the salad.” By “make,” she apparently meant “get out the bag” because she cut open a plastic bag and dumped the salad into two bowls while Quinn smiled at her back.
Her shoulders were straight and beautifully pale, brushed by shiny, bouncy curls as she moved. He caught her profile as she went back to the fridge for salad dressing and couldn’t help but lose himself in the careful line of her throat and chest. Her breasts were small, but they rose in a graceful curve that drew the eye. No wonder she wore that baggy outfit at work. The men in her employ would get nothing done if she showed up like this.
“Do you want to go to The Bar after dinner?” he blurted out.
Her head popped up and she frowned. “Why?”
“Because I didn’t bring any wine.”
“And you think they’d have good wine at The Bar?”
Well, she had a point. The place was so old and crusty it didn’t even have a real name. “To Aspen then,” he corrected. “There’s a great wine bar on Hopkins Avenue.”
“Did you talk to Molly today?” Lori suddenly demanded.
“I—”
She cut him off by slamming the dressing bottle onto the counter. “Damn it, I told her I didn’t want to date you!”
Quinn wondered if the air conditioner had just kicked on with a vengeance. All the pleasant warmth of the evening vanished in an instant and left him in the freezing cold. “Really?”
“Yes!” Lori ran her hands over her face, then shook her head before she met his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Quinn. I’d love to date you, honestly, but that’s not what I’m looking for right now.”
Now he was confused. That sounded a lot like, “It’s not you, it’s me,” except that they’d never even gone to lunch. “I see,” was all he could say.
“I can’t believe this,” she muttered.
“Look, I just wanted to take you out for a drink, and maybe we could—”
“Whatever she told you, I am not going to use you for sex.”
The imaginary air conditioner switched off. So did his brain.
“Not that I wouldn’t love to!” she went on. “But it’s really about random, meaningless fun, not dating. I’m not in a good place for dating right now. I’m sorry you were dragged into this. She just won’t drop it.”
“Who?” he rasped.
“Molly! What did she tell you to get you over here?”
Quinn clutched the beer bottle tighter, feeling the smooth glass press his skin, grounding himself so that he could make his brain work. “Molly hasn’t called me in weeks.”
Though she’d been reaching for her own beer, Lori’s hand froze just an inch from the bottle. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about.”
Her hand fell away to hover near her side. “That doesn’t…No. Why would you be here if Molly hadn’t called?”
Maybe she wasn’t as smart as he’d always thought. “Lori, I came over to ask you out. Period. It’s not that complicated.”
“Oh.” The pink started right at the skin just above her shirt and floated inexorably higher, past her collarbones, then up her neck to her jaw. Her cheeks flamed redder than the rest of her skin. “Oh, God. Are you sure?”
“Very sure. But what were you saying about using me for sex?”
Her body tilted slightly to the left, then the right. Alarmed, Quinn was moving toward her, meaning to grab her elbow and help her to a seat, but the oven timer went off and the sound snapped her straight.
She moved stiffly to the oven, grabbed a hot pad, and in a moment she was standing at the counter, staring down at a perfectly roasted chicken and a loaf of hot bread. “Okay,” she said to the poultry. “Okay.”
“Lori—”
“No, just…Let’s have dinner. I’m sorry there’s not more. I was just going to have a salad and…Oh, Jesus.”
Quinn let silence fall, utterly unsure of how he should proceed. His thoughts were ping-ponging back and forth, running into each other like drunk kids in a mosh pit. When Lori moved, grabbing plates to set the table, he jumped on the opportunity to give them both time and took her beer and the bottle of dressing.
Sex. Lori Love wanted sex.
He grabbed the salads and carried them over while Lori brought the chicken.
No dating. Just sex. Nothing else.
He watched her hips as she hurried back to the fridge and let himself imagine. Sex. With Lori. The images came easy and quick.
Once the food was served and all the busywork ran out, they both lowered themselves slowly into chairs and looked anywhere but at each other as they dug into the salad.
Though he’d never been into meaningless sex, Quinn wasn’t above liking the idea of it. And, actually, it would solve one of the more serious problems in his life: he was a terrible boyfriend. Seriously bad. Out of all the women he’d dated, not one had been happy for more than a month.
He forgot things, important things like dates and birthdays. On the phone, he had the attention span of a gnat. Worked late more often than not and liked to read books about engineering when he got home. It was a sad measure of a relationship when a woman grew jealous of New Physics in Architecture.
Quinn started on the chicken.
Considering his track record, asking Lori out in the first place had probably been idiotic. But if they kept it meaningless and casual…None of his shortcomings would matter, would they? They’d simply go their separate ways, some very nice memories between them.
A few minutes later, Quinn set down his fork and raised his eyes. Lori kept chewing for a few moments, until she noticed his attention and swallowed hard.
“What?” she asked.
“Did you mean what you said?”
Relief softened the anxiety on her face, but her smile popped into place with too much brightness. “No! No, of course not. I was obviously joking. Duh.”
“Mmm-hmm.” He stared at her until she squirmed, then stared some more.
Her smile vanished. “What?”
“Because if you weren’t joking—and I don’t think you were—then I’d like to volunteer.”
“Volunteer?” she breathed. “For what?”
Quinn took a deep breath and placed his hands flat on the table for balance. “I’d like to have meaningless sex with you, Lori Love.”
T HE ROOM WAS spinning and hot. A convection oven of mortification spiced with a hint of lust.
Quinn Jennings had just propositioned her in the most inappropriate way. The last thing she’d ever expected.
“We can’t do that,” she blurted out.
“Why not?”
Because I like you, was her first thought, but that was ridiculous. Did she want to have sex with someone she didn’t like? If so, how could it possibly be any good? She reached for the next thing. “We know each other.”
“Um…Were you planning on hanging out at a rest stop or something?”
She gasped in horror. “No!”
“Bathroom at a club?”
“Quinn!”
“Well, you know my name and where I work. That’s about it, and I’d hope you’d want to know at least that, even if you picked somebody at random.”
“I just…” God, it sounded so sordid when he described it. Then again, she’d been wanting sordid, hadn’t she? And yet that guy at the restaurant had been cute and polite and interested, and the idea of taking him home had left her cold. “I know a lot more than that about you, Quinn. I know your sister and your best friend. It would be too awkward.”
He frowned at that, his straight brows descending into an angry V. “Not as awkward as being hurt—or worse—by some stranger you decided to experiment with. It would be really, really stupid for you to hook up with a complete stranger. Is that really what you’re planning?”
“Hey!” she protested, but couldn’t think of anything more than that. Just those few words made her flush with embarrassment, because he was right. Risk was fun until it actually got risky. But still…“You sound like your dad when you say things like that.”
Anger simmered in his gaze, but he quickly tamped it down, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, his face flushed with regret. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I just don’t want to think of you putting yourself in harm’s way. Especially when you have a willing victim right here.”
“Victim, huh? That’s flattering. Thanks, but no thanks.” He grabbed her wrist when she pushed back to leave the table. Lori froze, hovering an inch above her chair.
“I didn’t mean it that way. Honestly, Lori, I’m the perfect candidate.”
“Do this a lot, do you?”
“Of course not. Never, in fact.”
She hadn’t realized that jealousy had crept inside her skin until it slunk away. Jealousy over what? Quinn? When her thighs began to tremble from exhaustion, Lori slowly let her body collapse back into the chair.
He watched her with very serious eyes. “I’m no good at relationships, Lori. I work too much and I forget about all the boyfriend stuff and end up carelessly hurting any woman in my life. I’m inattentive and distracted…” He shrugged, gaze leaching from serious to weary. “I suck at being a boyfriend, but you don’t want a boyfriend.
“I like you. I respect you. You know me, but not so well that I won’t fit into your sordid plan. Just well enough to be sure I’m not going to drug you and post dirty pictures on the Web.”
Another point in his favor, though her career as a mechanic didn’t hinge on a spotless reputation. Maybe it would be exciting to be caught up in an Internet sex scandal. Maybe she’d get more customers. Or maybe she’d die of embarrassment.
Quinn’s fingers shifted, and she realized he was still holding her wrist. Her heartbeat jumped as his skin slid against her pulse, heat smoothing against that delicate, beating place usually covered by thick leather work gloves. The nerves in that one square inch gasped to life, then quickly spread the word to their neighbors. Warm prickles tingled up her arm.
She jerked her hand away and shoved to her feet. “Do you want some ice cream?” Not bothering to wait for an answer, Lori rushed to the fridge and yanked open the freezer.
“Plus, I find you very attractive,” Quinn added as if that were the least of her concerns. But those few words froze her lungs as she banged the tub of ice cream down.
Shit. He found her attractive? Very attractive? It could be true, or it could be an attempt to get some free sex from a woman who was offering. Just as she tried samples of things at the fancy grocery store in Aspen. She didn’t particularly want cranberry-flavored waffles, but she’d eat one if it was pushed in front of her.
Just as Quinn would eat her if she lay down naked in front of him.
Her cheeks burned as she scooped vanilla ice cream and thought of Quinn lapping her up. The strength of her yearning shocked her into panic.
“I can’t!” she groaned. “I—” A loud knock stuttered through the house.
Gasping with relief, she darted for the door. Her relief didn’t die even when she opened the door to find Ben standing there, looking for all the world like bad news in a uniform. But whatever he was there for, he was only saving her from having to reject Quinn. Or not reject Quinn. Either prospect seemed terrifying.
“Lori,” he said, hand tipping his Stetson down a fraction of an inch. Lori frowned. An awfully formal gesture from a man she’d known forever.
When she waved him in, Ben’s gaze slipped past her, eyebrows rising for just a moment before he looked serious and official again. “Quinn,” he said with not a hint of inflection at finding his best friend in Lori’s living room. “How’s it going?”
“Great,” Quinn answered. “I think.”
Lori blushed and felt Ben’s eyes noting each shade of pink as it rose up her cheeks. Damn cop eyes. “I apologize if I’m interrupting your evening,” he said.
She shook her head. “No! No, we had something to eat. But we’re done now. Quinn was just leaving!”
“Huh,” he said from behind her. Lori didn’t turn around.
Ben’s eyebrows rose again. “You sure?”
“Yes!”
Quinn cleared his throat. “Well, all right then. Lori, why don’t I give you a call about that bill tomorrow.”
“I don’t—”
“We’ll discuss the details then.”
Oh, jeez. He wasn’t going to drop it. But at least she’d have time to think before then. And, knowing Quinn, he’d forget to call anyway.
“Thanks for dinner, Lori. It was a very pleasant surprise.” He brushed past as she nodded, holding her breath at the touch of his arm against her shoulder. His skin felt so hot…
Well, of course it was hot—98.6 degrees, as a matter of fact. Nice and toasty and no different from anyone else. Unless, of course, he was a werewolf!
“Lori?”
“What?” she barked, trying to pretend she wasn’t staring at the door that had closed behind Quinn a few seconds ago.
“Look, I was going to come by tomorrow, but I was walking past and thought I’d stop by tonight. I’m sorry if I interrupted something.” A tiny question hovered in those words, but she pretended not to hear it.
He cleared his throat. “I have notes on your dad’s treatment in the emergency room, but do you think you could get me copies of any X-rays or scans that were done?”
“Sure. Why?”
“I want to have the medical examiner take a look at those, too.”
She crossed her arms tightly and nodded.
Ben flipped out his notebook and jotted something down. “What about the motive question? Did you think of any possibilities?”
“No. Nothing.”
“Nothing? No rivalries? No bad blood?”
“Not that I know of.”
“And what about girlfriends?”
The idea of her father dating felt as bizarre now as it had two days ago. But maybe the stranger part of it was just how odd it seemed to her. “I honestly don’t know. I asked Joe about it, and he said my dad dated occasionally but there was never anyone serious. I had no idea he even dated. He kept it from me.” She laughed a little. “I’m beginning to think it’s weird that I can’t answer these questions, Ben.”
“No,” he said immediately. “This is normal when a child—even an adult child—is answering questions about a parent. Believe me, it’s usually a bad sign if a kid knows too much. Your dad was your dad, and he kept his private life private. That’s just what he was supposed to do.”
“Okay.” She felt tears welling, and nodded quickly.
“The officers investigating at the time came up with the same information. As far as they could tell, there wasn’t a woman in his life. So you weren’t left out at all.”
“Okay.” The tears finally spilled over. She tried to wave him off, but Ben was having none of it.
He cursed and reached out to rest his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dropped in and ruined your Sunday like this. I’m heading to Molly’s in thirty minutes. Why don’t you come with me?”
Lori felt tempted for about five seconds. Then she remembered the lingerie Molly had picked up in Aspen the night before. “Um, no. I think I’ll just stay here and let you two have your evening. I’ve got invoices and…stuff.”
He objected a few times, but Lori finally got him out the door and shut it tight behind him.
She needed some ice cream. Or a drink.
Probably both.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_4ad4b5ae-21fa-5ad4-a88a-e48880e310c3)
“I’ll take care of you,” Rafael whispered. Then she felt the scrape of his impossibly sharp teeth against the tender skin of her neck.
“You can’t protect me from everything,” Jodi protested, breath catching somewhere between a gasp and a sob. His hands held her still, her naked back pressed against his chest, ass snug against his erection.
“I can.” His surety vibrated over her skin, raising goose bumps. Finally, he loosed his grip and slid one hand down her arm to caress her hip. He teased her, stroking circles over her skin until his fingers found her sex and she cried his name like a prayer. And then his long, sharp teeth sank deep into her neck….
L ORI SIGHED and tossed the book toward the end of her bed. She’d been flipping through the pages since she’d awoken at 5:00 a.m. Too early, but she couldn’t get back to sleep and even the best of the stories couldn’t hold her interest. She’d lived all of Monday as if she were moving through water, every movement taking more energy than it should. It looked as though Tuesday would be more of the same.
Lori found herself wishing she could sink deeper into depression, deep enough that she could lie down and sleep for a good twelve hours. As it was, she seemed to be hovering between anxiety and the blues. Restless and lethargic at the same time. And seriously confused.
Ben must be wrong about her father’s injury. She wanted him to be wrong. And all the reports weren’t in yet, so Lori could still hope.
Her dad had been a good man, but he’d been rough-and-tumble. Sometimes, especially after her mother had left, he’d hit the town to get good and drunk. And he’d seen nothing wrong with throwing a few punches around if one of his drinking buddies pissed him off. Hell, his injury had happened at the now-defunct biker bar at the edge of town. Fistfights were part of the recreation. So he’d gotten punched and fallen against a stray rock, and whoever he’d been fighting with had taken off to save his own ass. The reconstructed scenario made total sense, and she’d never once doubted it.
Until now.
Damn Ben Lawson and his determination to run an organized police department. His persistent inquiries were working, at least on her. She’d spent hours lying in bed last night, trying to puzzle out this mystery. What had changed in his life? What had shifted?
She’d gone to college, yes. But how could that have inspired a crime? A mysterious drifter hadn’t moved into her room. What else? There hadn’t been any personnel changes, according to the records. Sometimes her dad had paid the occasional worker off the books, though. She’d have to ask Joe about that.
But there was one other thing that had changed while she was gone. A big change for her father.
He’d bought that land.
He’d purchased it just a month before his attack. Seemingly out of the blue. He hadn’t mentioned it to her until after the purchase, and Lori had been too wrapped up in college life to ask any questions.
Aside from this house on a lot chock-full of ecological hazards, that riverfront land was the only thing of value her father had owned.
Yet another developer had called about it on Monday. So at least two developers were interested in that twenty-acre plot. Why?
Lori covered her face in frustration.
If her father really had been assaulted, and if it had been premeditated, the land was the only motive she could think of. And that was the extent of her revelation. No who or how or why. She was going to have to spend the day going through his records, and those would probably tell her nothing at all.
“Crap,” she muttered, as she pushed herself off the bed. The red numbers of her clock glared 5:30 a.m. at her, as if she’d done something wrong. Dawn would be breaking by now, and if she couldn’t sleep, she needed to walk, wandering bears be damned.
She pulled on the sweatpants and T-shirt she’d left next to the bed and padded to the bathroom to brush her teeth and fix her hair. Her curls were the only thing pretty and feminine about her, as far as she was concerned. Her nose was a bit too snub, her eyes and mouth nothing special. But since she’d learned to tame her hair into big loose curls with some very expensive product, she made sure never to leave the house without fixing it. If she let it get frizzy and dry, she’d look as washed-up as she felt.
Once she felt bouncy and minty-fresh, Lori tugged on her running shoes and headed for the door. The purple light of the rising sun only hinted at warmth, but she didn’t mind. It fit her strange and icy mood.
Birdsong swelled in the silence of the morning. But once again when her shoes hit the gravel of the parking lot, she couldn’t hear anything but that hated sound, so Lori pivoted and hurried directly for Main Street. Her destination was the river, and she could actually reach it through the junkyard, but there was no path along that stretch. Plus she really didn’t care to pick her way through ancient tires and rusted struts.
Several large pickup trucks passed her as she walked, kicking up diesel fumes as drivers raised a solemn hand in greeting. The old-timers didn’t really wave around here. Too much emotion. The cowboys in the movie Brokeback Mountain had reminded her of most of the men of Tumble Creek, minus the secret gay sex, she supposed. Though if it were secret, what the hell would she know about it? Regardless, the men of Tumble Creek and the surrounding ranches were stoic and hardworking and not inclined to superfluous laughter. Or words.
They certainly weren’t artistic and funny, not like Quinn.
The thought of Quinn made her mouth pull up into a smile as she passed The Bar. Quinn hadn’t called on Monday, despite his threat. If he were any other man, she’d assume he’d gone home, thought over the offer to be her lover and decided a quick disappearing act was in order. But it was Quinn, and she had no doubt he’d been locked in his office, furiously sketching out architectural plans for twelve hours straight and giving not one thought to his scandalous offer.
He would call at some point, when he returned to the real world, and he’d apologize profusely for his forgetfulness, but Lori was thankful for the brief reprieve. She had no idea what to say if he pressed the issue. “No,” probably. If she had any sense at all. Quinn was not the man to act out her fantasies with. It would just be too… intimate.
Wrinkling her nose in embarrassment, Lori turned onto the steep, potholed road that led down to the river. She was so focused on her feet and the loose pebbles that threatened to roll her down the hill, she didn’t even notice that she wasn’t alone.
“Hey!” a deep voice called, startling her into a stumble that nearly took her down.
“Fuck me,” she yelped, arms flailing.
“Anytime, babe,” Aaron Thompson shouted like the idiot he was.
“Thanks for rushing up to help,” Lori snapped back. “Good way to make use of those muscles.”
Completely missing the point, Aaron smiled and flexed his bare biceps. It didn’t really matter that it was only fifty-five degrees out and much colder in the water, Aaron was already dressed for maximum exposure in a sleeveless, skintight neoprene wet suit and a lean red life vest. Lori was pretty sure he never wore underwear. He certainly didn’t have any panty lines, though she could see the clear bulge of his manly junk. As usual.
“You finally coming for that private white-water lesson I offered?”
“Not in a million years.”
“What if I bring along a friend? I did this girl in Aspen last weekend who said she was bi. I told her about you. She seemed, you know—” he wiggled his blond eyebrows “—into it.”
“Aaron,” she bit out, then made herself count to twenty. Lots of people in Tumble Creek assumed she was a lesbian because she didn’t date much and she fixed cars for a living. She’d actively encouraged this belief in Aaron’s case, because she’d grown tired of him stopping by after his last river run of the day to show off his tight neoprene package. Especially after the time she’d caught him rearranging his goods to offer his best side just before he’d stepped into the garage.
Lori shuddered at the thought and watched Aaron’s pretty blue eyes drop lower to check out her chest. She crossed her arms.
“Aaron, listen. Please. I will never sleep with you. And I will never sleep with anyone else in front of you. Nor,” she interrupted when he opened his mouth to speak, “will I sleep with someone you know and then tell you about it. Is that clear enough? Just drop it, all right?”
“But…” He looked confused, not believing even a gay woman wouldn’t want to sleep with Aaron, god of the hot river guides. A deep crease of thought appeared between his eyebrows. “But I thought we were friends.”
“Oh, for God’s sake. I don’t even know what to say to that.”
He shrugged, all traces of thinking gone from his face. “Whatever. Just call me if you ever decide to switch teams.”
“I…” There was no reasoning with a man who was such a bizarre combination of nature boy and gigolo. “I’ll see you later.”
He winked and turned back to the work of unknotting a thick poly rope. Lori’s eyes wandered to his ass, and he must have expected just that, because he turned his head and caught her looking.
“Reconsidering?” he offered in a smooth purr.
“No! I just…” With a growl, she spun and stomped off toward the narrow path that had been worn through the grass, Aaron’s laughter fading behind her. She didn’t want anything to do with that man’s ass, but no one could help but stare at the two perfect globes of muscles perched on top of his bulging thighs. How much time did he spend working out anyway? And how long did it take him to pour himself into that suit every morning? Jesus, she’d seen the hollows on the sides of his ass cheeks.
He’d be perfect for a fling. “If only he weren’t Aaron,” she muttered to herself, then the words hit her brain and she stopped dead in her tracks. A pebble pressed against the ball of her foot so hard that she felt it through the sole of her shoe. But she didn’t move.
Aaron was perfect for a fling because he was Aaron. He was young, hot and eager. He’d do anything she asked him to. And there was absolutely no danger of it developing into something deeper. Perfect.
And not the least bit tempting.
Not like Quinn.
She pressed her weight harder to her right foot until the pebble felt like a thorn. Her thoughts of Quinn held firm, unaffected by the pain. She wanted him. And she needed the distraction, really needed it. This thing with her dad, it could go on for months. And she had nothing—nothing—to distract her. Except Quinn and his offer.
Lori lifted her foot and kept walking, keeping a close eye out for any sign of bears ahead. If it were springtime, she wouldn’t be out at all. In the spring, the bears were not only hungry, they had baby bears to protect. “Eek,” she muttered.
The river rushed and roared beside her, always louder than she expected despite that she’d grown up two hundred feet from it. Once it hit Grand Valley it was a wide, smooth ribbon, but here it jumped and dropped and boiled, finding its way through sharp rocks and steep ledges. It was a little like her life, actually. Boring and calm one minute, chaotic as hell the next.
But if her life was going to be chaotic for a while, maybe she should enjoy the ride.
So Quinn wouldn’t be a perfect fling. He was too familiar. Too nice. Too smart. But he was right about one thing, he’d be better at a fling than he’d ever be at a relationship. Lori could vividly remember walking into the girls’ bathroom at a varsity basketball game to find a beautiful blond cheerleader weeping loudly into her hands.
“He never calls. Ever! And last night my parents were gone for the night, and he didn’t even show up. We were going to do it and he didn’t even remember!”
“Quinn’s just like that,” her friend had assured her.
“He hates me!”
“No, no! He’s so smart, RaeAnne. He’s got so much stuff to think about. College. Basketball.”
The cheerleader’s sobbing had grown louder, and Lori had hustled out, wide-eyed.
Smiling at the trail, she hauled herself over a fallen pine tree and jumped to the packed earth below. She’d been stunned by that conversation at the time, just the idea that Quinn—sweet, quiet, big-brother Quinn—could make a cheerleader cry. Could make a cheerleader cry about wanting to do it with him. What a strange and disturbing idea that had been.
And now here she was wanting to do it with him. Not crying over him, at least, but certainly confused. It felt strangely natural, as if that moment in that high school bathroom had been the first point on a meandering trail that led to an inevitable affair between Quinn Jennings and Lori Love.
But maybe it was a terrible idea, inevitable or not. Maybe it would end with her crying in a bathroom somewhere. Maybe she’d even be wearing a cheerleader’s uniform at that point. Just a lonely, kinky mess, wearing a short skirt and no underwear as mascara ran down her cheeks.
Her laughter bounced off the rock wall on the far side of the river, as if to confirm her decision. Sex with Quinn was a good idea, even if it turned out to be a bad one, because her nights would be spent pacing around her house, leaving angry messages for a forgetful lover, instead of tossing and turning and worrying about an investigation she couldn’t control.
She didn’t want to think about what might have been done to her father, didn’t want to imagine that someone had stolen his life and all her plans. So until Ben called to tell her his suspicions were unfounded, Lori would think about Quinn instead.
Q UINN GLANCED at his watch, then back to the road that led in a straight line from his condo to his office. It would be a busy day, but he felt as relaxed as if he’d just checked out early on a Friday afternoon. An hour swimming laps would do that for you, but it was more than just the loose exhaustion in his muscles. He finally had the vision he’d been chasing for Brett Wilson’s new home. The two-acre lot halfway up Aspen Mountain was flat and perfect for building…aside from the fact that Brett wanted a view of his favorite ski run from his living room. A ski run that sat on the wrong side of a jagged wall of granite.
“Buy another lot,” had been Quinn’s first suggestion upon walking the land. The builder had insisted that Brett Wilson would pay a premium if Quinn could make it work.
Quinn would be collecting on that premium now, though it had been the challenge of the project that had driven him to take it on rather than the money. He’d spent days turning possibilities over in his head, but the swimming had finally unlocked the puzzle for him, as it often did. Something about the rhythm and the echoing solitude worked like meditation for him.
He was picturing the cantilevered jut of the suspended living room when his cell rang. The sound tossed a sudden thought into his brain, where it exploded like a white-hot cherry bomb.
It might be Lori.
“Holy crap. ” Quinn scrambled to grab the phone, but the front wheel hit a slight buckle in the shoulder of the road, and when he jerked the car back onto the blacktop, the phone skittered away.
“Shit.” He’d forgotten to call her. “Shit, shit, shit.”
He pulled into a lot, threw his car into Park and dived across the seat to grab the phone.
“Hello?” he nearly shouted.
“Good morning, Mr. Jennings.” The cool voice of his office manager flowed across the ether. Jane. Just Jane.
Collapsing back into his seat, Quinn let his head hit the headrest. “Morning, Jane.”
“I hope I’m not disturbing you. I wanted to remind you of your schedule in case you were heading straight to a site this morning.”
“No. No, I’m coming in. But remind away.” He raised one eyelid to glance at the clock—8:30 a.m. Yes, he’d most definitely missed Monday by a mile.
“Here we go,” Jane said, just as she always did before running through his appointments. “You’ve got a preliminary consult with Jean-Paul D’Ozeville at ten this morning. Lunch with Peter Anton of Anton/Bliss Developers at twelve, a conference call at three about the lecture in Vancouver, and then the benefit dinner with Tessa Smith at seven.”
“The what?”
“The fund-raiser for the Aspen Music Foundation. You bought tickets weeks ago. I believe Ms. Smith wanted to meet Sting.”
Quinn thought he could detect a sardonic hint in her words, which would have surprised him if he hadn’t been busy reeling over the shock she’d just delivered.
“Tessa and I broke it off last week.”
“Well, she called yesterday to be sure you hadn’t forgotten.”
“Uh…right.” He vaguely remembered Tessa’s shouted assertion that she was not going to let him back out of such an important event.
“And,” Jane continued, “she went to dinner with you on Friday?”
“Yeah. Apparently I forgot to cancel that, too.”
His office manager cleared her throat. “I don’t see any more dates on your schedule. As long as you don’t accidentally agree to any other shared meals, this should be your last evening with Ms. Smith.”
“Good. I’m not—Jane, are you laughing at me?”
“Certainly not, Mr. Jennings. If there’s nothing else I can do for you, I’ll see you in a few minutes.” The line clicked dead, confirming his suspicion that she was, indeed, laughing at him. As he deserved. What kind of man found himself on not one, but two accidental dates?
Of course, Tessa was defined by her persistence. Quinn wasn’t normally apt to notice when women flirted with him, but women like Tessa didn’t wait for a man to notice, they simply assumed their place. So it was that one evening Quinn had looked up and found he was dating a big-breasted blonde who wore frighteningly tall heels. His developer friends had been impressed. Quinn had simply been too apathetic to break it off until Tessa had gotten clingy. Then it had been an easy decision.
Speaking of easy decisions…
Quinn dialed information, got connected to Love’s Garage, and then wiped the sweat off his brow while he waited.
“Love’s Garage,” a very feminine, very grumpy voice answered. Not good.
“Lori, it’s Quinn. Don’t hang up. I am so sorry I didn’t call yesterday. I—”
“Forgot?” she asked sharply.
Lying would be wrong. Really wrong. “I wouldn’t say forgot, exactly…”
“It’s no problem, Quinn. It gave me time to think.”
Not good at all. He wanted sex with Lori Love. It was slipping from his grasp, making him realize just how much he wanted sex with her. Time for brutal honesty. “You’re right. I did forget. I’ve been working on this difficult site, and…Okay, you don’t want to hear that. I’m so sorry. I know it’s insulting and degrading and…” He tried to think of a few more choice adjectives that had been applied to his forgetfulness in the past.
“It’s fine, Quinn. I’m not mad.”
He would not let this slip away from him on a wave of polite distance. “Of course you’re mad,” he pressed.
“Nope.”
“Then why do you sound so strange?”
“Because I’m on my back under a car?”
“Oh. Seriously?”
“Yes.” Her voice dropped. “But it’s nice and private under here.”
Quinn turned that odd comment over in his head for a moment. Was it possible she really wasn’t angry? Or was false relief making him stupid? Still…“And you need privacy because…?”
Her long pause stretched through the distance between them, tightening their connection like a wire about to snap. She’d had time to think, and surely that was a bad thing. Planning and forethought couldn’t be the quickest route to a red-hot affair. But maybe…
“Does your offer still stand?” she blurted out in a near whisper.
Quinn’s heart turned over so quickly he felt dizzy. “Yes,” he answered with a casualness he didn’t feel.
“Because I think maybe it’s a good idea. If you still do.”
Strangely, he thought of her stretched out under that car, her feet and ankles vulnerable, available to him. He could stroke his hand down the instep of her small foot, kiss her painted toes, curl his fingers around her delicate ankle, smooth his palm up the inside of her rising calf. In his fantasy world, she only wore boots and thick denim when he wanted her to. Today, she was barefoot, wearing a little flowered skirt as she labored beneath chrome and steel. Her—
“Quinn?” she breathed into the phone.
“Yes, I still think it’s a good idea.”
Her relieved sigh made him smile.
“So,” he ventured, “should I just stop by tonight to service you?”
A wheeze burst over the phone line, followed quickly by the clang of something heavy and metallic. Quinn grinned at the Mexican Food sign on the building in front of him.
“Oh,” Lori squeaked just before she coughed. “Oh, I guess. That would, um…Tonight?”
“I’m teasing you, Lori.”
“Oh, thank God. Jesus, Quinn. That was cruel.”
“Sorry.” Not that he was sorry at all. “I was actually thinking maybe we should go to dinner. Unless you’d prefer I just come over and drop my pants. I’ve got an hour free before lunch.”
“Quinn.” Lori’s voice had dropped to a tone he suspected she used with her employees.
“All right. Dinner first. Unfortunately, I’ve got a previous obligation tonight. What do you think? Tomorrow?”
“That soon?”
“Yes.” He left it at that. No point letting her mull over her decision any longer. And, frankly, he couldn’t wait.
“Okay.” The little squeak was back in her voice, making him smile. It thrilled him that she was nervous, that he wasn’t just some old friend who’d climb into her bed and make her feel comfortable and safe. He wanted her tense and excited. “What time?” she asked.
Quinn didn’t bother trying to think of his schedule. It had never once cemented itself into his head and never would. “Six-thirty.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you at your office.”
“No, why don’t I—”
“Listen, Quinn. I’m not interested in sitting here in my living room in a dress and heels for hours, waiting for you to remember our plans. I will meet you at your office.”
“Oh. I see. All right.”
She hung up with no added pleasantries, leaving Quinn staring at the restaurant sign for a few stunned seconds. “No chance am I forgetting this date,” he said to no one at all. “I’ll be there with bells on.”
He was still wondering what the heck that phrase meant when he pulled up to his office two minutes later. One more date with Tessa, and then he’d be Lori Love’s meaningless fling, hopefully for a good long while.
L ORI ROLLED OUT from under the car, wiping her hands on a rag. “Joe,” she called as she stood and stretched. “Will you be okay on your own for a few minutes? I’ve got a quick errand to run.”
After Joe gave her a thumb’s-up, she walked out and headed for the office of her Realtor. As she strolled along the cracked sidewalk, she realized how good this felt, confronting something. She’d been passive for so long, swept along by her life. Now she was taking control of a few small things. Finally. Maybe this would snowball into a real life.
“Fat chance,” Lori muttered, but she was smiling when she opened the door of the tiny Main Street office. “Hi, Helen!” she called to the tall blonde at the back of the room.
Helen Stowe looked up from pouring coffee, her big hair bouncing with the movement. “Hey, Lori! What can I do for you this morning?”
“Oh, I just had a couple of questions. How are you doing? I thought you were going to meet me and Molly at The Bar last week.”
Helen shrugged as she took a seat at her desk and waved Lori over to the chair that faced it. “You know. I just got busy.”
“We’re dropping by on Friday. Why don’t you come along?”
“Oh.” Helen’s heavily mascara’d lashes fluttered. “I don’t…I would, but…If…”
“Helen.” Lori sighed. “Did you break it off with Juan?” Juan was the manager and bartender of The Bar. He was also ten years younger than the newly divorced Helen.
“No,” she whispered, the quiet word trembling in the air. “He…” One fat tear escaped her lashes and tracked an ashy line down her cheek.
“Oh, Helen.”
“He said he was tired of hiding our relationship!” Helen gasped. “He said I was ashamed of him, but I’m not! It’s just…” That one tear was just the first of many, and Lori’s stomach sank.
“I’m so sorry, Helen.”
“It’s my own fault,” she said, as she yanked open a desk drawer and pulled out a box of Kleenex. “I never should have started dating him. He just doesn’t understand what it’s like to be a fortysomething woman dating a younger man.” She leaned forward, eyes a bit wild. “Do you know they have a word for it now? They call women like me ‘cougars’!”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that.”
“It’s mortifying!”
“Well, it’s kind of trendy, actually.”
“Trendy?” Helen screeched. “Do you know what Juan’s mama would say if she found out? She’s been after him to start making babies for years! If he brought home some dried-up old floozy like me, she’d probably call the priest over to perform an exorcism!”
“Helen,” Lori said softly.
Helen blew her nose and hiccupped.
“Do you like Juan?”
Her face crumpled again, and Lori had her answer.
“If you really like him, don’t you think you should give it a chance? Give him a chance?”
Though her tears continued to flow, Helen shook her head. “My husband left me, Lori. He left me after twenty years of marriage. I can’t go through that again, and you can damn well bet your ass that Juan would leave in a few years. Hell, I’m about to enter menopause. He probably doesn’t even know what that word means. ”
Lori sighed. “He’s a nice guy.”
Helen straightened her spine and took a deep breath, setting her impressive cleavage quivering. “Yes, he is. That’s why I’m not going to tie him down to an old biddy like me.”
Though she didn’t usually think of old biddies as buxom women who wore stiletto heels and shirts cut down to there, Lori gave in and nodded. Juan’s mother probably wouldn’t approve of the heels and cleavage, either. Having grown up in Mexico, she likely had some pretty conservative ideas about women, at least with regards to her youngest son.
“Now, I’m going to go freshen up,” Helen announced, “and when I come back, we will discuss your real estate needs.”
Wow, that sounded official. Lori looked obligingly over the photos of available properties until Helen returned, pink nose powdered and eyelashes freshly coated in mascara. “Now, what can I do for you, Lori Love?”
“I’m afraid I’m not looking to buy anything, but I did have a question about my dad’s property.”
“Yeah?”
“Chris Tipton’s been in touch a few times about buying the land and some guy I’d never heard of called on Monday. Has anyone else contacted you?”
“Oh, sure. I’m sorry, you said you weren’t interested in talking about it, so I didn’t call you.”
“It’s okay, honestly. I’m not interested, but I am wondering what all the fuss is about. Who else has asked about it?”
“Hold on.” Helen spun her chair to a tall filing cabinet and riffled through until she found a thin file and pulled it out. “Here we go. Someone from a company called Anton/Bliss Developers called last month, and there was a call from The Valiant Group in the spring. Other than that…I see I noted somebody called to ask about the land last week, but didn’t leave any information. The other two left numbers and asked me to contact them if you ever showed any interest in selling. Should I call them?”
“No,” Lori said quickly. “But will you give me their names and numbers?”
“You’re not going to try to do this on your own, are you? Because, honestly, these are some big companies, and whether you use my agency or not, I’d recommend consulting an attorney and—”
“I’m honestly not looking to sell right now. But I’m beginning to wonder if I’m sitting on oil or something. Have you heard anything?”
Helen shrugged. “Not a thing. I’ll keep my ears open, but it’s a beautiful spot and there’s a lot of rich folks around here.”
“Yeah.” Still…her dad had bought the land for less than seventy thousand dollars. It had been just as beautiful then, and there had been just as many Aspen people around.
Helen offered her a paper with the information.
“Thanks. If I ever do decide to sell, I need to know just how much it’s worth to these people.”
“Why don’t you sell it, Lori? Your dad’s gone now and, correct me if I’m wrong, but you were never interested in running the garage, were you?”
“I just…” Not wanting to think about her dreams and her fears and her money problems, Lori shook her head. “It’s complicated.”
“All right.” Helen patted her hand, her smile conveying sympathy and maybe a little pity, too. Great. “I’ll call you if anything else comes up. Let me know what you find out.”
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Victoria Dahl
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Lori had always planned to get out of tiny Tumble Creek, Colorado, but when her late dad left her his beloved auto body shop, she′d stayed. Now, according to her crazy best friend, Molly, what Lori needs is some excitement, in the form of hot, no-strings-attached sex…and lots of it.