Beneath the Surface (13 page)

No, she didn’t, but that wasn’t the point. Was Asher so dense he couldn’t see that? “And yet he’s your friend?”

“I’m not a good guy either.”

His admission surprised her. He met her stare unwaveringly. Did he really believe that? The lack of hesitation in his response told her he did. There might have been a time not too long ago that she would have agreed with him. She’d been a proud card-carrying member of the
I Hate Asher Tate
fan club, and she wasn’t exactly sure when that membership had expired, but at some point over the last week something between them had changed. Maybe it started when he’d agreed to take her in and protect her when she knew he didn’t want to. It might have begun with the kindness he’d shown her when she’d told him of the tragedy she’d witnessed in Haiti. Or, it could have been the fearless way he’d protected her when he’d thought she was in danger in that parking lot, only to return with a bag full of her underwear. Perhaps it was those few stolen moments at The Rabbit Hole—right before everything had gone so horribly wrong between them—when he’d started to open up to her just enough to glimpse the man behind the mask.

And then there was Violet’s raving endorsement that carried more weight with her than she wanted to admit. “That’s not what my sister said. She claims you’re a hero.”

His brows drew tight in a frown. Not the response she’d been expecting. Instead of being flattered by the compliment, he seemed . . . annoyed. “I’m not a hero, Quinn. I’m a killer. I told you that the day you got here. Nothing’s changed.”

Yes, he had. And she had no doubt it was true. But he was wrong about one thing—everything had changed.

“The barbecue isn’t optional. I don’t feel comfortable leaving you here alone.”

She wanted to ask him why not. Was he worried she’d been found? Surely he wasn’t forcing her to come along for her sunny disposition.

“We’re leaving in an hour. Pops told everyone you were my girlfriend so they’re all excited and expecting to meet you.”

All . . . ?
How many people were they talking about here?

“He’s trying to protect you, and it’s easier than explaining the truth. So try not to act like you hate me for the next couple of hours, huh?”

Was that what he thought? “Asher, I don’t hate you . . .”

He glanced back and continued to talk without acknowledging her confession. He either didn’t believe her or he didn’t care. Quinn wasn’t sure which thought hurt more. His walls were so high the builders of Jericho could have taken architecture lessons from this guy.

“My brother Jaxson is a human lie detector. So try not to say anything that isn’t true if you can help it.”

Great. Well, this oughta be fun . . .

CHAPTER

15

T
he calm, always confident, and in-control Quinn Summers looked . . . nervous. Tension radiated from her in the seat beside him. He recognized the silent, restless agitation. Had seen it in a lot of soldiers he’d served with over the years. Those were the ones you had to be worried about. On the surface everything appeared just fine—until they cracked.

“Relax. It’s a barbecue, Quinn, not the Spanish Inquisition.” Asher reached across the center console and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. He immediately realized his mistake when heat raced up his arm like an electrical current. His cock stirred with awareness of the woman he’d been fighting like hell to resist for the last week. Obviously, it was a battle he was losing. Hell, if he was honest with himself, he’d been losing it since the day he walked her down the aisle.

Maybe she felt it too, or maybe she just didn’t want him touching her. Either way, she tensed. Shit . . . no one was going to believe they were dating. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his family with the truth, and under normal circumstances he would never have lied to them, but Quinn’s secret wasn’t his to share. His father must have been of the same opinion or he wouldn’t have fronted the story in the first place. Or perhaps the old man had an ulterior motive in throwing them together like this . . .

He removed his hand from hers and she cast him an anxious glance. “How many people are going to be there?”

“My parents, Sandra and you know Robert. My three brothers, Rory, Jaxson, and Fisher. Rory’s wife, Kim, and their twin girls, Megan and Maddie.”

“That’s a lot of people.”

He pulled into the driveway and parked behind Rory’s burnt-orange Ram. Cutting the engine, he turned to face her. He wasn’t used to seeing her without that tough, prickly exterior. Her appearance of vulnerability and the apprehension in her eyes hit him in the chest, stirring something deep inside him—a need to comfort her, to protect her. It wasn’t the first time she’d courted the emotions in him, but it was the first time he’d felt the pull this strongly.

“Hey. You’ll be fine. Just stick to the facts without getting into the details. You’re a journalist, we met at your sister’s wedding, and you became instantly infatuated with me.”

She let out a light feminine bark of laughter that heated the blood in his veins. “I thought you said this should be believable.”

She was teasing him. It was a good sign. She was rallying some of her moxie. He should have known Quinn wouldn’t leave her guard down for long. A lopsided grin tugged his top lip. She really was a beautiful woman, and as much as she ignited his temper, she also ignited another fire inside him he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to deny much longer. He’d discovered that realization after talking with Jayce this afternoon. Asher had never been one for jealousy. There were more than enough fish in the sea for everyone . . . but not like Quinn. She was different. And she was off-limits. He’d made sure Jayce had no misunderstanding about that.

“That’s the way it happened in my head.”

“Well, I think you should have your head examined. You’re obviously delusional.”

He chuckled at her teasing tone. Was it possible the Ice Queen was thawing? After climbing out, he rounded the truck and opened the door for her. He held out his hand to help her down, because that’s what any doting boyfriend would do, right? And he just wanted the chance to touch her again.

She hesitated a moment, shooting him a nervous, uncertain look before taking it. Her hand was so incredibly soft, nothing like his rough, calloused ones—and delicate. The fine bones were so fragile and tiny, such a stark contrast to her personality. Sometimes he forgot how small and breakable she really was.

“I think we should tell them that
you
fell for
me
.”

“We probably should,” he conceded, closing the door behind her. “It’s more believable . . .”

She took a step then stopped, glancing up at him with surprise. “It is . . . ?”

Was that a note of vulnerability he heard in her voice? It was so atypical of her to have any crack in her armor, and damn him if he didn’t want to exploit it, if it didn’t lay siege to his guard, lowering his own defenses. He studied her a moment, searching those stunning violet eyes. What he found in there made his pulse quicken and his chest ache with an unwelcomed fullness.

The thought briefly crossed his mind—what would it be like to have this woman’s love, her devotion? He imagined it would be akin to possessing a rare piece of art—something irreplaceable and priceless.

His fingers tightened around hers, not wanting to let her go. “Of course it is. You’re a beautiful woman, Quinn. What man wouldn’t want you?”

She let out a sarcastic snort of mocking laughter. “You’d be surprised . . .”

Wait a minute . . . She didn’t actually believe his ruse, did she? Did Quinn honestly think he didn’t want her? He was fighting like hell to do the honorable thing here—to keep his distance and maintain his focus on the task at hand, which was Quinn’s safety. Or was this about someone else? Fuck,
was
there someone else? He hadn’t considered the possibility until this moment. The idea of her pining away over another man filled his veins with jealousy’s bitter poison. He wanted to find out more, but before he could ask her, the front door opened and his mother stepped onto the porch.

“Asher, thank God you’re here. Your brother’s grilling.”

“Oh, come on, Mom. It’s not rocket science,” Jax hollered from the kitchen. “I’m not going to burn the burgers.”

“Then why is there smoke billowing out of the grill?” she called over her shoulder.

“Oh, shit . . .”

A streak of his brother flashed across the doorway as Jax ran out the back. His mother shook her head and laughed. “Your father said you were bringing a guest. Come over here and introduce me to her.”

“You ready for this?” he asked Quinn under his breath, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Her grip on him tightened and she cast him a nervous smile. “As I’ll ever be . . .”

The press of Asher’s hand at the small of her back was a terrible distraction as he took her around and introduced her to his family. The heat coming off his palm radiated through her soft rayon top, warming her in places that had long been denied a man’s touch. She tried to concentrate on what he was saying, to smile and shake hands and remember everyone’s name, but she was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen. Her attention span was limited to Asher and the occasional gentle brush of his thumb up and down her spine.

Everyone was kind and welcoming—especially Asher’s mother. Sandra had pulled her in for a hug the moment she’d gotten within arm’s reach of the woman, telling Quinn how wonderful it was to meet her. It was a completely different experience than meeting Spencer’s parents for the first time, and perhaps that unpleasant memory had added to her anxiety today.

Quinn came from just enough money that she and Spencer had rubbed shoulders at a few parties, but not so much that she would ever be accepted by Manhattan’s elite. If she’d only known that back then, she could have saved herself a lot of heartache later on. She’d caught Spencer’s eye at a fundraiser event, and it had been a whirlwind, fairytale romance—without the happily ever after. It had seemed too good to be true . . . and it was. As far as his parents were concerned, he was slumming it with Quinn, and they made no attempt to hide their feelings about her.

Ultimately, he’d chosen his parents over her. Well, his parents’ money, more specifically. Once they’d threatened to cut him off after discovering he’d proposed to her, it had been a short engagement—forty-eight hours to be exact. That was precisely how long it took for Spencer’s balls to shrivel up and drop off, and for him to go crawling back to his mommy and daddy, begging their forgiveness. And to think she’d wasted her virginity on him . . .

What a crock. She wanted a refund, dammit—a do-over. Instead, she’d hocked his ring worth enough green to help support her while she’d traveled the world for the next two years doing freelance journalism.

Not a bad deal if it hadn’t been for the broken heart. She’d loved Spencer like crazy and stupidly believed he’d loved her more than his wealth. She hadn’t cared about or wanted his money. He knew that, but in the end it hadn’t mattered. Just as time healed all wounds, it also had left one hell of a scar behind. In the two years since Spencer left her, she hadn’t dated or been with another man. Quinn didn’t do casual sex, and she had no interest in opening her heart up to getting broken again.

But this experience of meeting Asher’s family was nothing like she’d expected. Sandra was so sweet and excited to see her with Asher, she wondered if his mother had been told the truth and was just playing along, or if she really did think they were together. It made Quinn uncomfortable, lying to these people, even if it was for a good reason. But what surprised her the most was how convincing Asher was. If she didn’t know better,
she’d
swear they were a couple. Was he just that good of a liar, or did the ruse settle better with him than it did her?

To watch him with his family, he seemed so at ease, so . . . normal—which was not a word she would have used to describe Asher Tate. The man was many things, but “normal” implied ordinary, average . . . mediocre. These adjectives were the antithesis of the man standing beside her right now. Not even the way he made her feel was “normal.”

As they visited with his brother Rory in the living room, the casual caress of Asher’s thumb made her skin tingle with raw energy that hummed beneath her flesh, sending shivers of desire racing through her veins. She had no idea if he even realized he was doing it, but she’d be damned if she let him figure out how deeply his touch was affecting her. Let him think her a porcupine, because honestly, that illusion was the only thing saving her from making a serious mistake in judgment where he was concerned. She’d talked a big game, but when it came right down to it, she was just as weak as the next girl when it came to resisting Asher’s charm.

She’d given it the old college try, though. But spending a week with this man under the same roof was enough to erode the resolve of a nun. And now that he wasn’t giving her the cold shoulder, allowing her a glimpse of what it would be like to have Asher Tate’s affection, it was a heady experience she hadn’t been prepared for.

“Jax and Fish out back?” he asked, glancing around, looking for his missing siblings.

“Yeah,” Rory said. “I was just going to grab the girls and a beer before heading out. I think Kim could use a break.”

She shot her husband a grateful smile and mouthed
Thank you . . .

“You can thank me tonight,” he told her under his breath, but not quietly enough because it brought a scandalous gasp from her and a chorus of whooping laughter from everyone else in the room.

Quinn smiled as she watched Rory scoop a child into each arm. They squealed with delight at going airborne as he twirled them around. The girls were adorable three-year-old identical twins with deep red hair and bright blue eyes. In that moment, Quinn’s womb ached. She could practically hear the countdown of her biological clock mocking her. Sure, twenty-eight wasn’t that old, but with no prospects in sight, the odds certainly weren’t in her favor.

“I’ll get the beers and meet you out there,” Asher offered.

He left her long enough to grab a few bottles from the fridge. After twisting off the cap, he handed one to her, which she gladly accepted, following him out after excusing herself. She exited the patio door and came to an abrupt stop when her eyes locked on the man at the grill. Her gaze darted to Asher standing beside her, and then back to his brother. The first words that came to her mind tumbled out in typical filterless fashion.

“Holy shit . . .” There were two of them.

His brother chuckled, seeming to enjoy her shock as he tipped back the beer Asher had given him. “I take it my little brother didn’t warn you he was a twin.”

Little brother?

“By like two minutes,” Asher grumbled, giving her the feeling this was an ongoing rub between these two. But from the looks of it, Asher wasn’t his little anything. He had maybe half an inch on the guy, and about twenty more pounds. However, the differences ended there—same dark brown hair, strong angular jaw, proud aquiline nose, and sinfully sexy mouth that made a woman dream of what it would feel like crushed up against hers. Undeniably, the man at the grill was an impressive piece of fine male flesh—an exact replica of Asher, right down to those gorgeous multicolored eyes.

His brother stepped around the grill and walked up to her, offering his hand. God help her, even that confident, arrogant swagger was the same. She took his hand, expecting the same fluttering response in the pit of her stomach that she felt whenever Asher touched her, and was surprised to discover it wasn’t there.

What the hell? Oh, this didn’t bode well—not at all.

She’d told herself her attraction to Asher was purely physical, so then why in the hell weren’t these butterflies fluttering? She gripped his hand tighter, holding on a little longer than she probably should have, waiting for those things to wake up. Nothing . . .