Hot to the Touch (14 page)

“What’s she like?”

Troy grinned. Where to begin? “Passionate. Strong. Independent. Sexy as hell. Brunette, looks like Catherine Zeta-Jones.”

“Yeah?” Chad did not sound at all impressed. But Troy wasn’t out to impress him. “She old enough to drink?”

Troy shot him a look. “Since when have I ever robbed the cradle? She’s thirty-two.”

“Really.” Chad sounded impressed that time, but Troy wasn’t sure it was for good reasons. “Older woman, huh? Has she been married before?”

“Nope.”

“String of failed romances?”

“Don’t we all?”

Chad’s gray eyes shot wide. “Uh…”

Of course not.
“You’re not normal, dude.”

“Actually, I think I am.” He pushed a button on his machine to increase the incline. Troy, ever the competitor, matched him, adjusting his stride when the running surface tilted up.

“She had a tough childhood.”

“Abuse?”

“Don’t think so. Alcoholic father. Sounds like her sister went down that road, too, though she’s recovering. Parents had a nasty divorce.”

“You want some advice?”

Troy sighed. “From you? Of course not.”

“Ha-ha.” Chad mopped his face again. “My advice is to stop going after these hot, flashy, unstable women. Find a nice, normal sane girl who will stay with you. Passion is great, but it doesn’t last, and when it fades, you need a best friend beside you for the rest of your life.”

He didn’t have to ask who Chad was talking about. “Darcy isn’t Debby.”

“Maybe not, but she’s the same type. Hot, which means men have been after her all her life. Passionate, which means emotional roller coasters all over the place. Thirty-two and never committed to anyone, baggage several feet deep from family dysfunction—it all adds up to the same story, Troy. You fall hard, then she gets bored or restless and you get hurt.”

Troy drank from his water bottle, not sure how to respond to that. He had nothing to go on, no evidence handy that would convince Chad he was wrong. He hadn’t known Darcy long enough to understand how she operated on every level. He was mostly going on the fact that looking into her eyes turned him upside down and inside out and beat him to a submissive pulp of tenderness and desire, which had never happened to him before to quite that degree, which he’d maybe naively assumed meant they were on their way to deeper feelings.

“How did you meet her?”

“That night you sent Justin and me to Esmee. She was at the bar, drinking arak.”

“Pretty tough drink for a woman.”

Troy rolled his eyes and increased the speed on his machine. “Twenty-first century, Chad.”

“Right. Sorry.” He punched up his speed, too, breathing slightly harder. His compact body made keeping up with Troy a battle—one he hated to lose. “Wait, I thought you were just at Esmee last week?”

“Yup. Wednesday.”

“And what, she’s moved in already?”

“Not exactly. We’ve been out twice.”
The first was a chance meeting, the second she was tricked into.
That would go over great. It even sounded ridiculous to him.

“So let me get this straight. You pick this woman up at a bar, spend a couple of nights with her and now you’re hooked?” Chad shook his dark head. “She’s got to be something in bed. There’s no other explanation for why you’ve turned stupid on me again after all that work getting past Drama Debby.”

“That’s not all it is.” Troy wanted to explain further, but there was no way he was going to quote Justin’s line about nerve endings coming to life.

“What can you know about a person in a week, even if you spend every second together? Bev might not be a mystery to me anymore, but it sure as hell took longer than a week to get past the initial impression.” He grabbed his water bottle, took a long pull. “I was waiting until you settled after ditching Debby, but I’m thinking it’s time for intervention now. Bev has a colleague at Atwood Elementary she’s been wanting to match you up with, a kindergarten teacher named Jan.”

Troy groaned. Chad ignored him. “She’s twenty-four, smart, sweet as hell, nice family, she’s great with kids, no dysfunctional garbage in her past. We’ll have you over to dinner. You’ll like her. Everybody likes her.”

Troy wanted to laugh. He knew what was coming.
She just hasn’t met the right guy yet.

“She’s dated around, but you know, she just hasn’t met the right guy yet.”

“Yeah?” He upped his incline, heart starting to pump; Chad swore softly and did the same. “How about that.”

Maybe Troy was following his old patterns of finding women who’d treat him like crap—he and Justin used to joke about how they managed to find the psychos in every crowd. But Justin found someone sweet, sexy and devoted to him in Candy. It wasn’t impossible that Troy had changed, too.

“Can I tell Bev you’re interested?”

“Chad…”

“All you have to do is meet her, not propose.”

“I know.” He gritted his teeth. There was no way he could fit another woman in his brain right now. But if he said no, Chad would keep pestering, if for no other reason than Bev would keep pestering him. “I need to see where this goes first.”

“I already know where it’s going.”

Troy responded by increasing his speed to a sprint. Chad followed, and they did the last quarter mile in a mess of sloppy form and heaving chests before they stopped, out of breath and laughing.

Before Chad could start in again, Troy changed the subject to Packers football and their playoff odds for the next season, counting on the topic to take over Chad’s football-addicted brain completely, relieved when it worked all the way through their cool-down walk and into the weight room, where Chad did a perfunctory set and went home to Bev.

Troy stayed, working hard, then harder, working out muscles in his body and working out issues in his brain. Darcy during bicep curls. Jan during chest presses. Darcy during pec flies. His old girlfriend Debby during triceps kickbacks. Darcy during sit-ups on the slant board. Where was he messing up? Where were the women messing up?

He pictured Bev, Chad’s wife, her peaceful smile, her welcoming home, the constancy of her attention and devotion to her husband.

Troy would be bored to death.

He sat up the last time, grinning. To death. He’d come home to Jan who had a hot dinner waiting, smiling welcome, and he’d just dissolve into a puddle of boredom and cease to be.

Whereas Darcy… Coming home to her… Now that would be a
hot
dinner.

He got off the slant board and down to the showers before his shorts took on a peculiar shape.

Troy had learned his lesson dating Debby. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. But that didn’t mean he had to go in the opposite direction and set a life course with Donna Reed.

He wanted Darcy, to the exclusion of any other type of woman he could imagine. There was no point trying to drive himself crazy going against his instinct.

The only trick going forward was to make sure Darcy kept wanting him.

9

MARIE WAS NEARLY READY. OH, MY Lord, nearly ready and shaking from nerves, and furious with herself for being at all anxious. How many times had she been out alone with Quinn? Practically every week since they’d officially introduced themselves in January, five months ago at the Roots Restaurant and Cellar bar. When had he ever been anything more than an easy, comfortable companion? Just because they were going to be meeting at a different restaurant didn’t mean anything else would change.

Except he’d never asked Marie to a place this fancy before. And he’d never asked Marie out dancing. And Marie had never been this close to admitting to him how deeply she felt.

She stalked over to her full-length mirror. Yeah, admit that she was in love with him and watch him recoil in horror. She reminded him of his sister, right? Angela. Which was ridiculous, because Marie had met Angela. She was slender, dark and lovely. Marie was short, plump and…

Hmm. She couldn’t help grinning at her reflection. Funny that she’d be thinking of Angela because the first time Marie saw Quinn’s sister, Marie had been wearing this dress in a doomed attempt to get Quinn to notice her sexually. She’d shown up at Roots, decked out in this blow-him-away finery, and had seen Quinn with his arm around a beautiful woman. Assuming he was in the midst of a seduction, Marie had turned tail and run, unnecessarily devastated.

Silver lining—Quinn still hadn’t seen her in this dress, which would be perfect for tonight. And yes, she still looked wonderful in it. The white cotton knit bodice criss-crossed over her generous breasts, giving him more of an eyeful than she was used to showing, but inflicting maximum cleavage on people seemed to be the style now, so why not?

Under her breasts, a band of solid blue, then a cascade of blue lining and a blue-green floral overskirt to just below her knees. The dress worked. It slimmed her, complemented the auburn shade she’d chosen for her hair, and made her skin look fresh and alive, bringing out good colors in her hazel eyes. Add the miraculously easy-to-walk-in blue heels and matching purse, and she was dressed to kill in a way Quinn had never seen. He’d better react.

Another look, turning this-way and that-way, enjoying the swirling folds of fabric. Would she be the sexiest woman there? Not by a long shot. Would she be the most beautiful? Ha! Not even close. But did she look about as good as she could? Absolutely. Which was all she wanted tonight.

Um, okay, that was a bald lie. She wanted a hell of a lot more than that tonight. When she opened the door to Quinn, she wanted his eyes to widen in astonishment, then narrow with lust. She wanted him to take her arm possessively, use any excuse to touch her, growl at other men who might glance her way, hold her too close while they were dancing, and leave early to get her into his bed where he’d declare undying passion before making love to her with every part of his body and his heart and his—

Wake up, Marie!
Back to reality. Tonight she’d be thrilled with attentiveness, admiration and the pleasure of his company. She did not want to set herself up for feeling the evening was anything but a huge success.

One step forward and she examined her makeup more closely in the mirror. Maybe a touch more of the blue-green liner around the corner of her eyes, though excitement had made them large and shining. So maybe she’d—

Her phone rang; she crushed down the dread that it was Quinn calling to cancel. No negative thoughts tonight. None. Everything low-key and calm. That was the only way she’d get through this intact.

“Hey, it’s Kim.”

“Kim, hi, how’s it going?” She grinned at her reflection. The date would go on.

“Everything is going great! Nathan got a job with a local firm specializing in green architecture. We were on our way to meet with the caterer and he just got called.”

“How fabulous!” Marie’s shriek startled her gray tabby, Jezebel, who’d been sleeping on the bed. She gave Marie a withering look and settled back down. “I’m so happy for both of you.”

“Yes, it’s wonderful. He starts next week. It’s done a lot for him.”

“I can imagine.” Marie gave a secret smile. Nathan had done some impressive growing up in the last few months. “And what about your job? How is the Carter website coming along? They liking your designs?”

“Loving them. The bureaucracy is making me want to tear my hair out, but artistically it’s really satisfying.”

“I am thrilled for you, Kim. Sounds like life is shaping up.”

“It’s pretty great. I’m calling also because Candy’s crazy busy this week, but she wants to set up a meeting with Darcy to go over the Milwaukeedates party plans she emailed you, look at menus, and so on. We wondered if Monday at 10:00 a.m. would work for you?”

“Hang on.” She went over to her bag, dug out her iPhone. “The seventh? Looks fine.”

“Good, I’ll let Candy and Darcy know. Thanks. Are you relaxing tonight?”

“No. I’m going out.” She couldn’t stop the smile.

“Really? With whom?”

“A friend.”

“Quinn!”

Marie started. “How did you know?”

“You sound so happy. Is this a date? Where are you going?”

“Dream Dance. And I’m not sure.”

“Dream Dance?”
She sounded as if she was going to have an apoplectic fit. “And you’re not
sure?
Marie, men don’t take women there as friends. Trust me on this.”

“I’m not—”

“Nathan is nodding like crazy. He says coffee dates for friends. Dream Dance for girlfriends.”

“You are not helping.”

“What do you mean?”

“The only way I’m going to get through this night is not to think that—”

Doorbell. Invasion of serious nerves.

“Oh, my God. He’s here. I have to go.”

“Have fun! Call and tell us all about it.”

Marie groaned. Kim would tell Candy, Candy would tell Darcy, they’d be wondering all night what was happening. Like she needed this pressure?

No. No, Marie Hewitt was stronger than this. Marie Hewitt had survived infidelity and divorce, and had started her own successful business out of nothing. Marie Hewitt could get through a date.

She stood tall, eyes closed, body centered, and took two deep, calming breaths.

There. Marie Hewitt was ready.

She picked up the blue purse and matching light jacket, hoping it would be enough to keep her warm in this cool weather, and forced herself to walk with calm dignity down the stairs, for her own peace of mind and so she wouldn’t trip and end their date in the emergency room before it even began.

The bell rang again. Oh, impatient man. If only he were that impatient for her, and not just results.

She put on a smile and opened the door, making sure her expression was friendly and casual, because it would be pretty pathetic to greet him with all the anxiety and hope she was feeling.

The smile, however, dropped. Quinn stood there, the epitome of magnetic masculine success in a charcoal suit that fit flawlessly over his broad shoulders, and over a white shirt and classic burgundy-and-blue tie. He was freshly shaved and smelled incredibly sexy. For a too-long moment she was overwhelmed, then forced herself to put her tongue back into her mouth, figuratively speaking, and collect herself.

“Hi, Quinn.” She managed to focus properly and noticed with a tiny kick of excitement that he seemed a little dazed himself.

“Marie.” He gestured to her dress. “You look…stunning. Beautiful.”

“Oh, hey, thanks. You do, too.” She threw out the words, nonchalance personified, turned to lock the door behind her and let a full grin have its way as soon as her face was safely hidden. She’d worship this dress for the rest of her life, build a shrine and leave money for its preservation in her will. “I’m looking forward to the evening.”

“Same here.” His low, deep voice made her shiver and her resolve to be cool faltered again. She had a feeling the entire evening was going to a series of similar battles.

Bring it on.

They drove to Dream Dance, located in the Potawatomi Casino, southwest of downtown Milwaukee in the Menomonee River Valley, a fortress of a building with four towers topped with round dishes containing leaping orange flames, a dramatic statement in the dark even with the copious lighting around the stark stone walls.

Quinn turned his silver Lexus sedan over to valet parking and gallantly escorted Marie through what seemed a random door, but which turned out to be conveniently opposite the restaurant entrance. Did he ever miss a beat? Stumble? Look like a dork? It would actually make her feel better. Maybe she should steal his wallet so he’d be caught thinking he had no money to pay for the meal.

They pushed through the doors and over a short tiled hallway into the restaurant’s foyer, where they were greeted and welcomed into the dining room, whose white-clothed tables sat widely spaced for privacy. Marie and Quinn were shown to a table embraced by a semicircular high-backed banquette on which she and Quinn sat next to each other and faced the room. The noise was low, waiters moved around leisurely attending the well-dressed patrons. Marie felt like royalty.

“Do you come here often, Quinn?”

“Not very.” He turned slightly so he could face her. “Have you been here before?”

“Oh, sure, once a week at least.” She sent him an acerbic glance that made him chuckle.

“I’ve been here a few times. Always had excellent meals. But my theory is that if you do special-occasion things too frequently, they lose some of their magic.”

“I agree.” She hated that she was already wondering what woman he’d been here with and how special she was to him.

“I’ve only been here with clients. This is my first social visit.”

Had he read her mind? The violent blush threatening to climb up her face would have been humiliating if the waiter hadn’t chosen that moment to introduce himself, welcome them, hand them menus, Quinn a wine list, and suggest drinks.

Quinn quirked an eyebrow in her direction. “Champagne?”

Marie smiled sweetly, as if she was offered the stuff every day, wondering how much a bottle went for in a place like this, then deciding she didn’t want to know. “Can anyone say no to champagne?”

“Not anyone I’d like to know.” He turned back to the waiter and pointed to the wine list. “How about a bottle of the Perrier Jouët?”

“Certainly.” The waiter nodded politely and strode off.

“Are we celebrating something?” Marie asked.

“Of course.”

“What?”

“Hmm.” He looked pensive. “I give up. Do we need a reason?”

Marie laughed.
How about the deep love that you’re about to confess you feel for me?
“Not at all.”

Another server came by with a crystal tulip glass for each of them and a footed metal bucket to keep the champagne cold, draped with a white linen towel. Marie couldn’t stop smiling. Everything about the place felt luxurious, relaxing and totally indulgent, from the soft cushioned back of their banquette to the small light hanging over their table dripping sparkling crystals, to the bevy of waiters working to make them comfortable and satisfied. But she’d probably feel pampered and indulged in a cafeteria with Quinn, too. Every second in his presence felt like a special event.

“So how goes your matchmaking with Darcy?”

She regarded him suspiciously. “Do you really want to know or are you going to lecture me again?”

“Lecture?” He put his hand to his chest, the picture of wounded innocence. “Is that what I did?”

“Um, yeah?”

He dropped the act, gave a genuine smile. “Marie, I have tremendous respect for you, even if I don’t love all your methods. If I lectured, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She put her hand on his forearm, and wanted to leave it there. She got the chance when he covered her hand with his and squeezed, making it very difficult for her to keep her mind on what she wanted to say. “As for matchmaking, I assume it went well, because Darcy hasn’t called to scream at me again and it’s been three days.”

Quinn lifted his brows. “From what you said, she’s the type who’d have no problem screaming if she thought she was entitled.”