Hot to the Touch (20 page)

Oh, Quinn.

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t.”

“Thank God.” His arms turned her in a willing circle, and he kissed her, not platonically, not sweetly, not like he’d ever kissed her before. Not like
anyone
had ever kissed her before. Passion. Intensity. Fierce desire.

For her.

He backed her into the room; she nearly tripped on the threshold; they laughed like old friends, which they were, and about to become new lovers. The mattress hit the back of her thighs and she fell onto the bed. He wasn’t far behind her, covered her imperfect female body, with his magnificently male one, and she was lost in a haze of lust so strong she could barely take in what was happening.

Her hands were all over him; his were all over her. Her shirt was off. His shirt was off; she caught her breath at the sight of his chest and abdomen, still youthful and muscular.

“Marie, you are so beautiful.” He unhooked her bra, lowered his mouth to her breast, groaning with pleasure.

He thought she was beautiful.

His pants were off. Her skirt was off. His briefs. Her underpants.

He was hard, smooth and beautiful, hard for
her.

She stretched out long on the bed, wanting to minimize her stomach, thinking she should start a serious gym regimen if she was going to be competing with—

“I have wanted this for so long.” He kissed down her stomach. “So long, Marie. For months I’ve been wanting this, wanting you. You’ve been leading me in this completely sadistic dance and I’ve been doing everything I could think of to get you into my life, into my bed.”

She was dreaming. She had to be dreaming. “Sadistic? Me?”

He was silent. Silent because he was kissing her in the most intimate way possible and she was so wildly aroused she could only lie back and let out helpless moans of pleasure. His tongue was so warm and she hadn’t been touched there in so long. She was out of her mind. She wasn’t going to last. He had to stop or she’d—

She clutched the bedspread and let out a sharp cry as an orgasm took her by surprise, coming on so swiftly and strong that she didn’t have time to take control, to save it to share with him.

“Quinn…” She struggled to lift her head, feeling as if her body had weights on every inch. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

He laughed, all previous tension gone. “That felt like a mistake?”

“No.” She laughed with him, stretching her arms luxuriously. “No, not at—”

A sudden knocking shocked her to sitting up in half a second. Quinn’s curse shocked her into more giggles.

“Stay there.” He lunged off the side of the bed, grabbed his pants and had them on in an instant, though he had some trouble getting the zipper up over his divinely wonderful erection. An erection she was going to be able to get to know intimately.

Was this really happening?

“Room service.” The call came muffled through the door.

Room service? They hadn’t ordered any.

“Right here.” Quinn strode over, out of sight of the bed.

Marie heard the door open, heard a murmured conversation. The door closed.

“We ordered room service?”

He reappeared, pushing a cart with champagne in an ice bucket and a plate with a domed top. In his other hand, a neat little case, which she assumed held their toiletries for the night.

“Champagne and some smoked salmon?”

“Quinn.” She shook her head, letting him see in her eyes how pleased and happy she was. “You seriously spoil me.”

“I’ve been wanting to for a long time, but you’re very hard to spoil.”

Marie frowned. “I don’t think I’ve ever objected. And what makes you think I’m sadistic?”

He dropped his pants, crawled toward her on the bed. “Every time I’ve tried to hint at my feelings for you, you’ve balked. I summoned all my nerve and finally kissed you after Dream Dance and you acted as if—”

“Quinn.” She took his face in her hands, his beautiful, unbelievable George Clooney face, and kissed his mouth. “You told me I reminded you of your sister.”

“You do. She’s beautiful, strong, intelligent, funny as hell and sexy.”

“And so…” She looked at him in mock horror. “You’re hot for her?”

“No.”
He scrunched up his face in disgust. “Of course not.”

“See?”

“Yeah, and I remind you of your brother, remember?” He toppled her back on the mattress, covered her body again with his. “This brother you’ve never told me anything about. What’s he like, immature and annoying?”

She giggled. “He’s a complete blank.”

“Oh, thanks.” He pretended deep hurt. “That’s just great.”

Marie drew her finger down his beautiful cheek, thinking of how often she’d wanted permission to touch him like this, hardly daring to believe she had it now. “I don’t have a brother, Quinn.”

“Then why did you—” He rolled his eyes. “Sadism. I told you.”

“Self-protection, not sadism. What about this man you were going to match me up with?”

“Oh, that.” He gave a smug smile. “That was me.”

“You!” She gave a shout of laughter. “You’re kidding. Talk about sadism.”

He kissed her mouth, traveled down into the curve of her neck. “And the problem I’d invested a lot of emotion and hope in and wasn’t sure it would work out?”

“Me also?”

“You also.” He returned to her lips, kissed them over and over. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, still not daring to believe this was happening.

“We’ve wasted a long time protecting ourselves from each other,” he murmured.

“When neither of us was sadistic after all.”

“Neither of us.” He nudged her legs apart, settled between them, erection pressing firmly against her sex, lighting her fire all over again. “Marie, I tested clean after my wife cheated, and have used condoms with every woman since. I don’t want to use one with you, but I will if you’d feel more comfortable.”

“I tested clean after my husband cheated, too.” She lowered her eyes. “There’s been no one else.”

“I put nothing out there but my body, Marie.” He moved up and down, rubbing her still sensitive clitoris with the hard heat of his penis. “Until I met you I didn’t think anyone could touch my heart again.”

“Yes.” Hers swelled with happiness. She knew exactly what he meant. “I felt the same way after my marriage fell apart. It takes time to get over that kind of pain.”

“We won’t waste any more,” he whispered.

“No.” She kissed him, welcomed him into her body, into her life, into her heart and remembered what she’d promised herself she’d do tonight. “Quinn…I love you.”

He stiffened. Stopped moving. She held her breath until his body continued its delicious slide inside her. “From the second or third time we met at Roots I knew I was on my way to falling in love with you, too, Marie. Since then it’s only gotten stronger, week after week. I’ve wanted to hear you say that for so long.”

“I was afraid.” She looked into his eyes, moving against his thrusts, feeling happier than she ever had, and more sure than she’d ever been about anything that this man was the best thing that had ever happened to her. And maybe now, after this glorious night, she could start to believe she was the best thing for him, too.

“Don’t be afraid, sweetheart. Not anymore.” He put his cheek down next to hers, slid his arms underneath her. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not later. And if what I’m feeling tonight is any indication…not ever.”

13

“HOW ABOUT THAT BREWERS’ GAME last night?” Troy aimed for the basket on the guys’ usual court at Kerns Park, where he met his friends regularly on Sundays for basketball games. Troy missed his shot spectacularly, though he managed to snag the rebound.

“Unbelievable contest.” Kent, Kim’s brother, intercepted Troy’s pass to Chad, who, to everyone’s relief, had replaced Kent’s misogynist friend Steve in their foursome. “Fourteen innings on a zero-zero tie.”

“Brewers pulled out a great win.” Troy wiped sweat from his forehead. It felt good to be warm outside since the temperature had remained stubbornly below average. “I thought they were done when the Reds loaded up the bases in the twelfth.”

“I was at that game.” Nathan casually stole the ball from Chad and made a perfect layup. “Amazing pitcher’s duel.”

“Incredible.” Troy caught the ball, made a halfhearted feint. He was feeling restless and crabby, not sleeping well, even his workouts weren’t helping. “The crowd must have gone wild when the Brewers won.”

“We missed the end.”

“You didn’t stay?” Troy was so appalled he stopped dribbling; Kent took advantage, grabbing the ball away to make a shot.

“We left after nine innings,” Nathan said. “Kim wasn’t up for it. She was tired.”

“Tired?”
Troy rushed to cover Kent. That’s what caffeine was for. Granted it was still early in the season, but a game like that, a shutout on both sides… Troy would have given Kim the car keys and said, “Go, I’ll take a taxi and catch ya later.”

He caught a pass from Chad, feinted left, went right, leaving Kent in his dust, and took a shot that swished satisfyingly through the basket.

Yeah, right. More likely he would have done exactly what Nathan had: tenderly escorted his woman out of the park, even though his insides were screaming,
Nooooo!

After his fight with Darcy a week ago, and during their mutual silence since then, the fear had taken over. He still wanted her. Still loved her. For the right or wrong reasons? He wanted to talk out the situation further, but until he had something new and constructive to add to the argument, he didn’t see the point. Either they’d rehash the same conflict or talk around it, neither of which would do a damn thing for either of them or for their relationship—or whatever was left of it.

And right there was the problem. He’d just been feeling strong, back on his feet, no longer pining for Debby, understanding his patterns, and now…he was back right in it, caring so deeply for someone that all his thoughts and feelings were caught up in her 24/7. No, he hadn’t gone with her when she dove off the emotional deep end, so yeah, he’d kicked that habit, but that was small comfort when he was miserable without her.

Kent caught his rebound, went over Chad’s head and scored again. They played a fairly listless game for the next half hour, then Chad picked up the ball, glanced at his watch and shot a pass to Troy. “I gotta go, guys. Bev wants to get the garden planted this weekend. We’re going to Stein’s nursery this afternoon.”

“Ooh, hot date for Chad.” Troy nodded to Nathan and Kent. “You real men up for a pint at Wolski’s?”

Kent looked suddenly pained, pushed back his blond hair, squinting his blue eyes, which were so like his sister Kim’s. “I, uh, have a date.”

“Stein’s or a real hot date?” Troy chucked the basketball at Kent, who caught it and shot it back just as hard.

“I’m seeing Lucy.” He cleared his throat, grabbed the hem of his shirt and wiped his forehead. “We’ve been out a few times. We’re meeting at four.”

Troy checked his watch. Two. “So you can’t go out now because…”

Kent looked mortified. “I got things to do.”

Troy laughed, faked whipping the ball at him again. “What, you have to wax your legs?”

Kent rolled his eyes and headed off the court. Chad followed. Troy stood with the ball, aware he was acting nearly as badly as misogynist Steve and not caring. He gave Nathan a challenging glance. “What’s your excuse?”

Nathan walked over and thumped Troy on the back. “Wedding planning. We’re meeting with the florist. Like that one?”

“Jeez, what is up here?” He laughed harshly. “You guys can’t pass gas without permission now?”

“Dude, we have stuff to do.” Nathan left the court with the others, leaving Troy alone, feeling like the dorky kid ganged up on in the playground.

Chad gave him a withering look. “This from the guy who when Debby ordered, ‘Jump,’ said, ‘Into what pile of crap and how deep, dear?’”

“I’m not that guy anymore.” Troy dribbled the ball a couple of times, ashamed of his outburst. Something deep and angry was being triggered by this conversation, and he needed to get it under control before he damaged friendships.

“Oh, wait a sec, wait, I recognize these symptoms. I get it now.” Nathan held up his hand for attention, grinning wickedly. “Two questions. What’s her name and what did she do to you?”

“Whose name?” Troy knew exactly whose, but he’d gotten locked into the sulky tough-guy act and didn’t know how to break out.

“The woman who’s got you so scared.”

Troy dribbled the ball again. He had two choices: deny the obvious truth and dig himself deeper into being a bitter jerk, or come clean.

“Darcy Clark.” There. He still felt like a jerk, but a more noble one.

“Darcy.” Nathan let out a silent whistle. “No wonder. You’re juggling torches, chainsaws and open gas cans.”

“This still the same woman?” Chad looked disgusted. “Another manipulator bitch?”

Troy stayed silent. He didn’t want to go into the problem, didn’t want to hear told-you-so from Chad, or you-should-date-Bev’s-boring-friend.

Nathan put his hand on his hip. “I don’t know Darcy well, but she doesn’t strike me as the type you want long-term, if you know what I mean.”

Troy laughed bitterly, which was probably as good as saying “yes.” He wanted to shout, “She’s not like that,” but he wasn’t even sure of that much.

Chad shook his dark head in despair. “Here we go again.”

Kent walked back toward Troy, held out his hands for his basketball. “I have time for a beer.”

Troy tossed him the ball, feeling even more like a jerk in the face of his friend’s graciousness. “You don’t have to if you’re busy.”

“I have time. Lucy will just have to deal with my hairy legs.” He rolled his eyes, smacking Troy’s shoulder. “Come on.”

Troy followed him off the court toward Nathan and Chad and gave them a quick nod. “Sorry for the crap.”

“No problem, man.”

“Forget it.”

Fist-bumps and back slaps cemented the apology, then Nathan and Chad went off to their cars, while Troy and Kent drove in Troy’s Camry to Wolski’s, where they ordered beers and settled into a booth. After a few uncomfortable comments about Milwaukee’s sports teams and the unusually cool weather, they sat in awkward silence. Not drinking.

Finally, Kent pushed aside his beer. “Look, I suck at talking about this feelings stuff. I hung out with people like Steve for so long I bought into their macho bull about women. Then I met Lucy, and it was like…I dunno, a goddamn thunderbolt.”

Troy didn’t know whether to laugh or groan. “Let me guess. She lit you up the second you laid eyes on her? It was as if your nerve endings were coming alive for the first time ever? Like a life heat?”

Kent looked astonished. “Yeah. How did you— Oh, Darcy?”

Troy nodded grimly. “Yup.”

“Man, it’s like some chick flick. I hate chick flicks. But she changed my life. This feeling changed my life. I can’t deny that. Everything I thought I knew about women and about me…” He shook his head in awe. “Steve didn’t have a clue. Making Lucy happy isn’t about weakening me, because what makes her happy makes me happy.”

Troy could not believe he was sitting here listening to Kent wax poetic about love. “Okay.”

“And she feels the same way.” He gulped beer, looking uncomfortable. “I sound like Dr. Phil, huh?”

“I promise I will tell no one.”

“Thanks.” He grinned wryly. “But you know what Steve was most wrong about? I don’t feel less of a man enjoying her and the things she enjoys. I feel more. Like my dick is bigger.”

“Oh, oh.” Troy cringed, waving Kent away like a bad smell. “I could
really
do without that image.”

“Figuratively, anyway, but it is.” Kent dragged his beer closer. “Point is, if it’s good, you don’t feel like you
have
to do that stuff, the flowers and the gardening. You want to.”

“Even leaving an extra innings game after the ninth?”

“Ooh.” Kent screwed up his face in pain. “There are limits. But Debby was serious poison—don’t judge anything by her. We’ve all dated Debbys, women who trample men. A good woman will lift you up to something higher and better.”

Troy cracked up. “Thank you, Preacher Kent. How are things at the Church of Feelings?”

Kent joined in the laughter. “I’m born again, brother Troy! Halle-freaking-lujah.”

“Amen to that.” Troy lifted his beer. They toasted and drank.

“I take it you and this Darcy woman fought.”

“She got upset about something and I didn’t see the point. Reminded me of Debby and I freaked.”

“Hmm.” Kent stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Is she like Debby when things are good?”

Troy didn’t even have to think about that one. “Not at all. Night and day.”

“Remember Steve’s theory that falling for a woman meant handing her your balls?”

“Yup.” Troy moved uncomfortably. “Exactly the phenomenon I’m trying to avoid repeating.”

Kent shook his head. “I have a new theory. This one is a hell of a lot better.”

“Okay.” Troy lifted an eyebrow. This would be good. “I’m ready, let’s hear it.”

“My theory is that when you fall for a woman, you don’t hand her your balls, you offer them.”

Troy made a face. “And this is different how?”

“Because if she’s a real woman, a good woman, a woman worth keeping—” Kent leaned back smugly in the booth “—she isn’t going to want them.”

TROY KNOCKED ON THE BACK DOOR to Gladiolas. Darcy wouldn’t be there, which he was counting on, but he remembered her talking about a special event they were holding that night, which the restaurant, usually closed on Mondays, would be open for. He wanted to talk to Ace. Marie had called him the night before and dropped the bomb about Sean’s betrayal and the proof that Raoul stole her recipes. Troy had been trying to figure out how to help Darcy before Marie even finished the story. Though whether or not Raoul had turned out to be criminal as well as an asshole was beside the point. The point was that Darcy had strong feelings, and he’d rejected them out of selfish fear and baggage courtesy of a completely different woman. That much at least he could fix. The rest…he’d try.

“Yeah?” Ace met him with a challenging stare out of eyes that appeared clear and in touch with reality. Good for him. And good for Troy, who didn’t want to deal with a clouded mind. “Darcy’s not here.”

“I know. I want to talk to you.”

Ace’s reddish brows lowered; he hesitated, obviously struggling between loyalty and curiosity. “About what?”

“Can I come in?”

Another once-over. Good that he was so protective of Darcy, but Troy needed him on his side today. “Do you need to?”

“I owe you an apology. If I have to humble myself, I’d like to do it somewhere other than a cold alley that smells like kitchen castoffs.”

The corners of Ace’s mouth twitched. “I don’t know, dude. I’m thinking you can’t get much more humble than that.”

“True.” He waited, staring Ace down.

“Okay.” Ace stepped aside, gestured him in. “C’mon. Not too busy at the moment, but it won’t stay that way.”

Troy stepped into the kitchen, feeling an intense pang of missing Darcy from being on her beloved turf, and of guilt that last time he’d been here he’d failed to appreciate it or her.

“So?” Ace took up a chef’s knife, started rapid-fire chopping onions. “What’s up?”