Double Dare (17 page)

“The guys will need a date.”

Now she was just trying to get on Quinn's good side. A date.

Quinn shook her head. “They have each other.”

Paige pursed her lips and hesitated a second before saying cautiously, “They do, but…now you're here.”

Quinn narrowed her eyes. Just what did Paige think was going on? Besides what was obvious, of course.

“I think you are mistaken in—”

“Listen,” Paige interrupted. “I'm sorry for barging in on you guys. I had no idea. In fact, I never would have expected to find a woman in Logan's bed again.”

“Why? I thought they—”

“Did this with other women?” Paige frowned. “I don't know. I don't think so.” Her delicate eyebrows pinned together. “At least, I've never caught other women here. I mean, I'm not here all the time, but I do stop in quite often. I help with the books for the business.”

Paige shifted and pulled herself on the bed farther. Closer to Quinn. Quinn wasn't sure if she liked that. The other woman was getting a bit too comfortable on the bed for her liking. But Paige curled her legs underneath her. It didn't look like she planned on leaving the bedroom anytime soon. And Quinn wasn't either, since she was naked under the sheet. She slid farther beneath said sheet.

Well, she might as well take advantage of this bonding—or whatever it was—and get some good info out of Logan's sister.

“Why do you think that is? Why me? Why now?”

Paige put up a hand to stop Quinn's questions and just shook her head. “I don't know the answers. You would have to talk to them. Logan, maybe. Don't know.” She tilted her head and studied Quinn for a moment. “Look, I love my brother, and Ty coming into his life was the best thing that ever happened to him. I don't want anything ruining that. I'm not saying you would, but Logan's happy now. He has a good relationship, a successful business, and”—she waved a hand around the room—“look at this place.”

She was acting like this was something permanent. It wasn't. Quinn wanted to clarify that, but when she opened her mouth, Paige stopped her again.

“Listen. His wife screwed him up for a while. She made him feel dirty and abnormal. He's not. He just wants to love someone who loves him back.”

That last sounded very familiar to Quinn. She had said something similar to Logan when he had asked her about kids.

“Logan's wife…” Quinn prodded after Paige hadn't said anything after a few moments.

Paige just about spit on the floor. “That self-righteous bitch.”

Quinn winced. “Ouch.”

“Oh. She deserves the title, believe me. Logan…Logan had a relationship with an older man when he was a teenager.”

“Okay.” That news did not surprise Quinn. Paige wanted to explain but acted a bit reluctant. She was curious as to why. “And?”

“When my mother found out—Did Logan tell you she raised us by herself? He did? Okay, well… When Mom found out, she sent Logan to our uncle's place in Kentucky for the summer. She thought he was just experimenting, that he was hanging around with the wrong crowd. She believed he just needed a male figure in his life. Believe me, Logan was always all male, so it was all just bunk. But Mom thought he would grow out of it.” Paige took a deep breath.

“He says he's not gay. He's bi.”

Paige waved a hand. “Semantics. Samantha and Logan met in college. I think he married her to get back into my mom's good graces. Not sure. But when my mom spilled the beans about the summer he turned seventeen—whoa. Logan was suddenly a pariah. No matter that Logan was completely faithful to her. Samantha didn't care. All her little Catholic ass cared about was that he had sullied himself with another man. Totally unacceptable. She left so quick, the front door was still swinging when the annulment papers were signed.”

“He was devastated.”

“Yes. To put it mildly. He was condemned by her and her religious views. That's why the reaction to the church thing.”

“Does he want you to be telling me all of this? Is he going to mind?”

Paige shrugged. “I don't know. I'm sure he knows we're talking about something in here, and it's not crocheting.” Paige laughed at her own funny. She sobered quickly. “You seem to be accepting of the situation, with Logan and Ty.”

“Well, honestly, it caught me off guard at first. But I'm an adult. I could have left.”

“But you didn't want to.”

No. She didn't want to. She didn't want to admit it out loud to Paige. Paige who was friends with Lana.

Shit.

If Paige says anything to Lana… If Lana finds out where I spent the last couple of weekends, what I've been doing…who I've been doing it with…

Quinn released her bottom lip when she tasted blood. Damn. She hadn't even realized she'd been gnawing at it.

If Lana finds out, everyone will know
. As much as she loved her friend, Quinn knew Lana had loose lips. It was one of her endearing but exasperating faults.

Quinn sat up quickly, the sheet slipping down, dangerously close to showing some nipple. “Paige, please, you can't tell anybody,” she begged as she pulled the edge of the cover up higher, trying to keep at least
some
semblance of modesty.

Though she wondered why she bothered.

Paige was giving her a surprised but disappointed look. “Why? Are you embarrassed to be with my brother?”

“No. No! It's not like that.”

“No? Then what is it like?”

“It's the complexity of the issue, I guess.”

“Complexity? Hmm. You mean screwing two men at once?”

Quinn felt the heat of her blush. Her cheeks were burning. She couldn't meet Paige's eyes, even though the other woman was only stating facts; what she had said was true.

But that didn't mean it wasn't uncomfortable to admit.

“Quinn, you're lucky.”

Quinn looked up in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“You're lucky to have two guys like these, wanting you. I'm jealous.”

“Why would you be jealous? You have Connor.”

“You're right. I do, and I love him. A lot.” Paige's lips twitched. “But sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have the attention of two men…”

“Does Connor have any big, beefy friends?”

“Oh yeah. He certainly does!”

They both laughed, feeling absolutely wicked.

But Quinn sobered quickly. “So…can you keep this to yourself?”

Paige looked down at the floor for a moment before meeting Quinn's eyes. The perky little brunette was gone, replaced with someone fiercely serious.

“I don't have a problem with keeping a secret. I understand this isn't the norm and might not be received well in certain—oh hell—most circles. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, nor to jeopardize my brother's happiness. If he's happy with this arrangement, then so am I.”

Quinn reached out tentatively and touched Paige's arm. “Thank you.”

Maybe there might be a friendship in the future between her and Logan's sister. Just maybe.

As Quinn sat in the stuffy dining room at the Mandolin Bay Country Club Sunday night, she already regretted having to leave the farm early. She wished she was sitting at the large butcher-block table instead of here. She hated her parents' favorite hangout—the place to see and be seen by the wealthy. It was gaudy and ostentatious. Too much so for Quinn's taste.

Even the waiters were snobs, she thought, as their waiter, Robert—no, that wasn't Robert like the normal American way of saying it.
Ro-bear
, as it was pronounced, insisted on draping her stiff, ultrawhite cloth napkin in her lap like it was too heavy for Quinn to do it herself.

As soon as he sauntered away, Quinn threw the napkin back on the table.

“Quinn, stop being so difficult,” her mother tsk-tsked.

“You know I don't like being fussed over.” Well, at least not by snobby waiters dressed like penguins. She had reluctantly left two men an hour ago who she didn't mind fussing over her. In fact, she enjoyed it. Couldn't get enough of it.

Quinn sighed.

Her father sat silently across from her, nursing his Tanqueray and tonic, while her mother started on a diatribe of useless gossip and information that Quinn couldn't care less about. Her father was obviously blocking out her mother's rambling, clearly noticeable by his glassy-eyed, blank stare and the fact that his glass never touched the table. His elbow was getting quite a workout.

As her mother had nothing important to talk about, and her father had absolutely nothing at all to discuss—not that he was allowed a chance—Quinn wondered why they had even wanted to get together for dinner.

She got her answer when the one person she didn't want to see just
happened
to run into them during their main course. Quinn almost choked on her squab—she had ordered the most expensive entrée on the menu to make it worth her while—when Peter did a drive-by of their table. Only he didn't just strike and run. Unfortunately.

Quinn hadn't seen her father move so fast in a long time. He was up and out of his chair, pumping Peter's hand enthusiastically, while her mother fussed with her primped hair and cooed as Peter kissed her knuckles with exaggeration. In exchange, he received air kisses on both cheeks.

Quinn fought back her vomit. She looked down at her squab and suddenly saw it with new eyes. She saw it for the pigeon it really was. She covered her plate with her napkin and sucked down a mouthful of cabernet.

Peter pulled out the empty chair next to her and plopped down, giving her a big grin. If he tried to kiss her hello, he was going to get a dead pigeon shoved up his nose. She didn't care what kind of scene that would make.

“Imagine my surprise, running into you here.”

Yes, she could just imagine. Her parents had settled back into their chairs, and her father was waving Ro-bear over, his glassy-eyed stare long gone.

Quinn watched in disgust as Ro-bear brought over another place setting and poured Peter a glass of wine. Her cabernet. She curled her fingers against the urge to selfishly yank the bottle out of the waiter's pale fingers and scream:
mine, mine, mine!
If she had to sit with Peter for the rest of the ruined meal, she would need the remainder of the bottle. At least.

“So…”

So, you are an asshole.

“…you look great.” He leaned over toward her a fraction. “Positively glowing.”

Maybe because she had just gotten laid just a few hours ago by two men? Maybe that was it. It was a postcoital glow. She was so tempted to let that fact fly. But she gritted her teeth, pinned on a fake smile, and glanced over at her father.

She didn't want him to drop dead on her account. Now Peter, on the other hand…

Peter squirmed in his seat a bit when Quinn's only answer was the evil eye. He quickly cleared his throat and turned his charm on her mother.

“So, I'm looking forward to the House to Home Charity Monte Carlo Night next weekend.”

House to Home Charity? Monte Carlo Night? Was that another reason her parents wanted to have dinner with her? Her mother knew it would be harder for Quinn to turn her down in person than if she had just called. Excuses were so much easier to give over the phone.

Trapped again.

Quinn looked over at her mother expectantly. At least she had the grace to look a little uncomfortable. Her mother's fingers fussed with the string of pearls around her neck.

“Yes, our Society Ladies' Charity Club has worked very hard on this. We want it to be a great success.”

Okay, this was such a setup. She couldn't believe she had stepped right into it.

“Mother, why haven't I heard anything about this before now?”

“Oh. I thought I told you.”

Uh-huh.

“No. You didn't.”

“Well, I talked to Frank, and the company is making a large donation,” her mother said.

Frank. Quinn mentally groaned. Now other was dragging her boss into this. Frank was one of the senior partners in the insurance company she worked for.

“He can't make it, so he suggested you present the check next weekend.”

Oh no. Now she couldn't refuse to come. Couldn't make excuses. She would look like a big schmuck if she refused to go. Not to mention that refusing to represent the company at her mother's charity event might be detrimental to her career.

Especially a worthwhile charity, one that rebuilt homes for victims of natural disasters.

Even so, Quinn didn't like being backed into a corner.

“And you're going to bring in a great price at the date auction.” Peter gave her a knowing look.

The corner was getting much, much smaller.

“That was my idea, dear.” Her father finally spoke. Since when had her father had his own ideas? Her mother might as well surgically implant her thoughts right into his brain.

Her gaze flashed to her father before returning to study Peter's sickening grin. Quinn pressed a finger to her ear and wiggled it. Maybe she had imagined what he had just said. “I'm sorry? I thought you said
date auction
.”

Her mother leaned over the table and patted her hand automatically. There wasn't a drop of sympathy coming from her; she just didn't want Quinn to make a scene. As if Quinn would do that.

Ha.

“You heard Peter right. We have had quite a selection of volunteers. A few local newscasters and local athletes, like Ben Johnson. Do you know who Ben Johnson is?”

Of course she did. He was a popular player for the local NHL farm team. She, apparently, just didn't know anything about the NFL. The NHL she had covered. Right.

“But, Mother, I didn't agree to this.”

Her mother swooshed a well-manicured, heavily bejeweled hand in the air. “Quinn, you can't turn us down. The evening's program has been already printed up. And anyway, it would be selfish if you turned it down. We need all the money we can get.”

Quinn took a deep breath and counted to ten. When she finished, she glanced at Peter's smug expression and decided to count to twenty.

They were all in cahoots. All of them.

“Are you in this auction too?” she asked Peter, though she already knew the answer.

“No, I'll be one of the bidders. Should be an exciting night.”

It certainly would be. There was no way she was going to have Peter win a date with her. He'd had his chance with her. And blew it. It was too late for him.

She would have to figure something out. Some way to escape the evening with her sanity. But without Peter.

“If you need me to go shopping with you, honey, I can. It's going to be black-tie.”

“No, Mother, I'll do my own shopping. What else is going on at this Monte Carlo Night, besides you pimping me out?”

“Oh, dear, don't be so crass,” her father said before finishing off the last of his gin and tonic. He caught Ro-bear's attention and pointed to his glass. Ro-bear scurried away to retrieve a fresh drink like the good little waiter he was.

Her father had the right idea. Alcohol. Quinn drained the last of her glass and then snagged Peter's. He hadn't touched his with his cheating lips. It would be a shame to let it go to waste.

“There's the dinner and cocktail hour, the gaming tables, like blackjack and poker. After that, we'll have the live bachelor and bachelorette auction. We might have a couple of celebrities stopping by to sign autographs and take pictures.”

“And the cost?”

“Oh, honey, we covered your plate.”

Her plate.

“It's going to be a cash bar, with all the proceeds going to the fund, and of course, all of the auction monies will be too.”

“Cost per plate?”

Her mother hesitated for a split second. “Oh, it's reasonable.”

“Mother—”

Her father, looking around desperately for Ro-bear, interrupted. “It's a thousand dollars a plate, sweetie. Very reasonable.”

Quinn put her, or actually Peter's, wineglass down before she spit all over her father. “You paid for a plate for me?”

“I told you it's covered.”

“But, Dad—”

He pinned her with a very fatherlike stare. “Enough. It's covered.”

She suddenly felt thirteen again.

Things hadn't changed. Her father was her mother's puppet. Even if he disagreed with something she said or did or wanted, he felt it was easier to appease her. Easier for him. Not for Quinn. Never for Quinn. He had never stood up for her.

Peter curled a hand around Quinn's shoulder. “Your parents are generous, and they want you to be there.”

Quinn glared at his hand and bit back a growl. She must have sneered, though, because Peter quickly removed his endangered digits as if he had touched a flame.

Not only were her parents throwing her in Peter's path tonight, but they were forcing her to attend a function she did not want to attend
just
so that they could throw her in his path again—even when they
knew
what he had done to her. They should have just thrown her under a bus. It would have been quicker and more effective.

She looked down at her cold squab, the juice gelling on the plate. She pushed it away in disgust.

What she had eaten already felt like a lead balloon in her stomach. She couldn't believe just a few hours ago she had been happy and actually feeling carefree. In the arms of her two lovers. And now?

Quinn pushed her chair back and popped to her feet.

Her father and Peter jumped up, like the true gentlemen they were supposed to be.

“I've got to go.”

“Are you okay, honey?”

Her mother had the nerve to ask her that? When she had just effectively trapped Quinn into something she didn't want to do?

“Just peachy.”

Quinn strode quickly away from the table, knocking into Ro-bear on her way out. He fought to not spill her father's fresh Tanqueray and tonic. As Quinn gave him an evil grin, she thought she couldn't escape this nightmare soon enough.

* * *

“They're pimping me out.” A tear plopped heavily into her glass of wine.

Logan
shhed
her over the phone, trying his best to soothe her. It wasn't working.

“What are you talking about?”

“They are whoring me out.”

What part of pimping and whoring wasn't clear?

Logan's chuckle grated on her nerves. “C'mon, Quinn. Really. What's going on?”

He wasn't taking her seriously. If he needed her to spell it out…“They are selling me to the highest bidder.”

“What do you mean? Like an arranged marriage?”

“No.” Her lips quivered, and she sniffled loudly. She never cried. So why now? “They are auctioning me off, and Peter is going to win me.”

“Who the hell is Peter?”

Ah. Now he was taking her a little more seriously. Mention one man to make another more interested. “My ex.”