At First Touch (10 page)

He cleared his throat and averted his gaze to his own plate. A strange silence hung between them as they both focused a little too much on their food. Quinn hadn't realized how easy things were between them until suddenly they weren't. Conversation was never truly easy between her and a man. Either he was trying to get in her pants, or she wanted something from him. There was always an edge. There was no edge with Wyatt, and she realized that the lack of edge was actually nice.

“I never watched
Diamond Valley
,” he said, breaking the silence. “What's it about?”

She lifted her head to stare at him, surprised. “You really want to know?”

“It's obviously important to you. Of course I want to know.”

Quinn met his gaze as pure liquid heat pooled in her center. He wanted to know about her. And she wanted to glue herself to his mouth.

“It's your typical soap opera. Two rich and powerful families and their children, the Barstows and the Childresses. My character, Sephora, is the youngest sibling in the Barstow family. She had been stolen by a nanny as a child and didn't know she was a Barstow until she turned eighteen…Well, frankly, until the writers wanted to add some spice to the show one summer…Anyway, I auditioned and suddenly I was Sephora, the long-lost Barstow. It was my first real acting job. My first real job, period. I had a great time until…until I didn't.”

“What happened?” Wyatt asked hesitantly. When she only stared at him, he laughed nervously and said, “Forget I asked. It's none of my business—”

“No, it's okay. I forget that not everyone read the
Enquirer
or Internet celebrity gossip blogs.” She took a swig from the beer for courage then said, “Do you want to know the official version or the unofficial version?”

Confusion crossed his face as he studied her for a moment. “I want to know the truth.”

“I told my sisters that an ex-boyfriend got me kicked off the show. Y'know, the usual story. Handsome, suave, debonair man sweeps gorgeous, talented actress off her feet. He claims to be a financial guru and tells her to invest her money with him. She does, and at his gentle persuasion, talks most of the cast and crew on her highly-rated soap opera into doing the same with guarantees of fabulous returns…And then the gorgeous actress wakes up one morning to find her money gone, the man gone and all of her friends' money gone too.”

“I'm sorry, Quinn—”

She held up her hand at the genuine concern shining in his eyes. “That's not the whole truth, or even the half-truth, but the truth is pretty boring. Predictable, even.”

Wyatt looked confused again. Quinn realized it was because he probably never lied and the concept confused him. “You lied to your sisters?”

“It wasn't a complete lie,” she said, defensively. “I did give my money to a self-proclaimed financial guru, and he did steal a lot from me, but I got it all back. The NYPD is much better than I thought.”

“Why the lie?”

“Because the truth is so much more embarrassing,” she muttered with a sigh. “When I first landed the role of Sephora, I was so grateful to get a job, any job, but then…then Sephora became a phenomenon, one of the most popular characters in daytime television. The network did a poll and announced that more people knew who Sephora Barstow was than knew who the vice-president of the United States was. Some people claim that after my popularity took off, I became different.”

“Did you?”

For the first time since Quinn had been fired from the show, she could admit the truth. “I was a bitch. Nothing was good enough—not the wardrobe, the hair, the makeup, the script. I alienated all of my cast mates and the directors. I threw things at people, near people, around people. I was a terror to work with.” At his horrified expression, she laughed and said, “Relax, Wyatt. The evil bitch got her comeuppance in the end.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I deserved it. After I screamed at an extra to stop looking at me and tipped over his wheelchair because he was in my way—I didn't know he was really disabled, I thought the wheelchair was a prop—the cast and crew collectively went to the show's producers and said they would all quit if I wasn't fired. The producers had tolerated me for years because I was Sephora and the fans loved me, but they couldn't risk losing the entire show. So the next week, Sephora was diagnosed with a rare flesh-eating illness and died. It was an open-casket funeral.”

“Oh, Quinn. The show meant a lot to you.”

She wiped at an errant tear, surprised that she still was able to cry over it. “But I'll show them,” she said, firmly. “When I'm standing on the stage of the Kodak Theatre with my Oscar, I'll thank them for getting rid of me because it forced me to elevate my career to the next level.” When Wyatt continued to stare at her with that sympathetic expression, she murmured softly, “But I do miss it. I miss it a lot.”

“You were on that show for most of your adult life. Of course you miss it. No one would expect anything less.”

She laughed through her suddenly blurred vision. “I haven't admitted that to anyone, even myself. I can't believe I told you.”

Wyatt smiled and held up his beer glass. “To Sephora.”

Quinn laughed and clinked her glass against his. “To Sephora.”

The two drank their beers, their gazes holding, until Wyatt abruptly looked away. Quinn slowly set the glass down, feeling something monumental shift into place. She didn't know what it was, but something was different between them.

She asked softly, “Why are you so nice to me, Wyatt?”

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and he dropped his gaze to his plate. He finally mumbled, “I'm nice to everyone.”

“But I don't deserve it.”

“No, you probably don't,” he agreed, then sent her one of his earth-shattering smiles.

“And I haven't been very nice to you, have I?”

His smile faded. “No, you haven't.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I'm not. It kept me in reality. I would have made a fool of myself over you by now with as much as I wanted you. But, because you always kept me at arm's length—hell, the length of the state of Wyoming—we can be friends now. And I can truly say that I like having you as a friend.” He abruptly laughed and added, “Of course, that doesn't mean you're getting the house. You still have to work for it, but I do promise I'll talk to Mom because that's what friends are for.”

“Friends,” she murmured with a forced smile.

For some reason, being friends with Wyatt made her lose her appetite. She pushed the plate away and focused on her beer, while her new “friend” devoured his food and hers.

 

Wyatt parked his SUV in front of the Sibley house and turned to Quinn, who sat trying to look innocent. Innocent, his ass. She had tortured him throughout lunch with soft moans and flirtatious laughs, and then had spent the entire car ride twirling her hair and playing with the buttons on her cardigan. Wyatt doubted that Quinn was doing any of it on purpose, but being in such a small space with her for such a long time had made him more conscious of her. Her sweet smell. The honey-blond glints in her hair. Her long legs. Even the sound of her breathing set his blood on fire.

“Thanks for lunch,” Quinn murmured.

Wyatt clenched the steering wheel to force himself not to move toward her. As the scent of apples and sugar washed over him, his gaze dropped to her lips. They were so perfect. So beautiful. So close to his…Wyatt snapped himself out of his daze. He could not think about kissing Quinn. He was in love—well, close to being in serious like—with Dorrie.

“Wyatt, look at me,” Quinn whispered. Against his will, he turned to her. She leaned toward him and his gaze instantly dropped to her mouth. The sound of his gulp filled the quiet interior of the car. “I know you've wanted to kiss me for a long time, and I'm going to give you your chance. Your last chance before you become chained to Dorrie.”

He laughed in disbelief and amazement at her arrogance, but then again, she had every reason to be arrogant. “Quinn—”

She didn't wait for him to finish; she pressed her lips against his. He gripped the steering wheel as a shock of emotions slammed into his body, instantly making him hard. Her lips were so soft, so sweet. So damn perfect. It was one of the most innocent kisses he had experienced since junior high school—and the most erotic.

She leaned back with that secret smile of hers, and he cursed and grabbed her arms. Her cry of surprise was cut off as his mouth slammed against hers. She tensed as he dragged her across the seat to practically sit in his lap. He used her shock to slip his tongue into her mouth and search for all the hidden cavities. He found them. Honey and peaches. Her mouth reminded him of honey and peaches on a hot summer day.

Then her tongue touched his. Tentatively. He moaned and silently encouraged her, his hands caressing her arms, itching to travel over every inch of the body that he had worshipped from afar for so long. She became more bold and her tongue became more bold, dipping into his mouth, dueling with his tongue. All of her wet sweetness poured into his mouth.

He groaned and dragged one hand into her hair, the silk strands falling over his hand, adding another layer of sweetness. One of her hands moved to the back of his neck, trying to pull him closer. She wanted him. Quinn Sibley wanted him, and it scared the hell out of him. He tried to pull away, but she clung to his bottom lip, nipped his top one. Hung on to the back of his neck, her other hand wrapped around his right biceps.

They devoured each other's mouths with sweeping, drugging kisses that lasted for days and hours. Kissing away all of the sexual tension that had been between them since they shook hands in the kitchen. Her tongue was like a spark that lit pinpricks of arousal everywhere it swept. Her hands on him were demanding, wanting.

Wyatt was getting too hot, too aroused. His hand on her arm began to travel to her breast. Then through the last vestige of common decency, he remembered where they were and pulled from her lips.

Their heavy breathing filled the cabin of the car. Wyatt dragged a hand down his face, then chanced looking at her. Bad move. Her lips were swollen, and her hair was tangled from his hands. It was her eyes that did him in, though. She wanted him. He could doubt himself with the kiss, but not with that smoldering look in her eyes.

She bit her swollen bottom lip, sending him a look that should have been bronzed in a statue, then quickly moved out the car.

Wyatt told himself to drive away. He needed to drive away and rethink, regroup. But instead he opened the door and started after her.

“Quinn—” She turned to him with an expectant look in her eyes and Wyatt's next sentence stuck in his throat.

The two stared at each other, and Wyatt wondered how long it would take to throw her in the backseat and drive to the closest place that would not include her sister or Graham being within screaming distance.

“Quinn!” Kendra shouted, storming down the porch steps.

Quinn turned from Wyatt to her sister, and Wyatt suddenly was able to breathe again. To think again. He didn't want to sleep with Quinn. Well, of course, he did. Especially after that kiss. But he wouldn't because he wanted a future with…What was her name again? Dorrie. He shook his head. Had Quinn really just kissed him? His body was still trembling, so she must have, but his mind hadn't quite caught up with the speed of events.

“Where the hell have you been?” Kendra demanded as she dragged Quinn into a tight embrace. Wearing a black pin-striped minisuit and stiletto heels, she looked like the power broker she was.

Wyatt didn't like to admit it, but Kendra scared him slightly. But then again, Kendra probably scared hardened criminals. Kendra was as frighteningly beautiful as her two sisters—the same delicate-shaped almond eyes, unblemished skin and tall frame. But there was also a hardness about Kendra, probably due to the fact that she could bench-press Wyatt with one arm. She didn't have overly defined muscles, but everything about her was muscled and athletic. Nothing was impossible as far as Kendra was concerned.

Kendra pushed Quinn away, as if the hug had lasted too long, then blew her silky, dark chin-length hair from her face and pointed toward the roof. “There is a Santa Claus on the roof, Quinn. I am actually staying in a house that has a Santa Claus on the roof.”

Wyatt hid his laugh at the six-foot, helium-filled dark brown-skinned Santa Clause slightly waving in the wind on the roof of the house. The round figure held one hand up in a wave and another hand held reins to—what else—the reindeer. It was giant and tacky, and Wyatt could just imagine Graham biting his tongue as he did Charlie's bidding.

“Charlie,” Quinn guessed, staring at the Santa Claus.

“Who else?” Kendra turned her back on the house to study Quinn from head to foot. “I can see you've already gotten started on the holiday eating.”

“Bite me, Kendra,” Quinn snapped.

Wyatt shook his head, amused. The two sisters definitely did not relate in the traditional sister way. They related more like two prizefighters who had engaged in multiple bouts and now had a wary, healthy respect for each other.