Once Touched (28 page)

“And you're okay about your parents giving me a job? You were kind of quiet.”

Of course he'd noticed. The habits of years devoted to looking through a camera lens and bringing his subject into sharp focus stayed with a body.

For a second she stalled, unwilling to answer him when 95 percent of her wanted nothing more than a future with him here at Silver Creek. But it was the 5 percent that she needed to heed.

“I guess I was wondering whether you really want to work as a ranch hand. Will it be enough? Will it satisfy you?” she asked, turning the tables on him.

“Why not?” He shrugged. “There are worse ways to spend one's days. Besides, Silver Creek is where you are.” He cupped his hand about the nape of her neck and kissed her. “You're good for me, Quinn.”

She wasn't the only one being squirrelly and avoiding a direct answer. And he wasn't playing fair, damn it. He must know how she longed to hear him say that.

“What if I'm not enough?”

The lines in his face tightened. “Don't sell yourself short, Quinn.”

That wasn't the issue—and he knew it. He was turning his back on something that needed finishing—his photo documentary. Quinn was a Knowles through and through. She'd been taught to never leave a job unfinished. She was about to press him again when her father returned.

“You ready to ride, Ethan?”

He gave a short nod. “Yes, sir.” To Quinn, he said, “We'll talk later.”

“Yes, and you won't listen,” Quinn whispered sadly to the empty room.

Her mother had on her yellow rubber gloves and a sink full of sudsy water to scrub the pans. “You can put the dishes in the dishwasher,” she said when Quinn carried in a tray laden with plates, glasses, and cutlery.

“Will do.”

She was placing the glasses in the upper rack when her mother said, “It's so nice to see things are going well with you and Ethan, darling. Dad and I couldn't be happier for you.”

“Yeah?” She straightened. “I had the distinct impression that you were eager to have me get up close and friendly with Josh.”

“Friendly with Josh? Of course. ‘Up close,' as you put it? Heavens, no. He's adorable, for sure, but I don't think you two would work in the long run. Unless he gets Campbell or Patricia Watt to cast him in a role, I doubt he'll remain in California too long. Unlike you, Maebeth'll fit right in down in Texas. I also have the distinct feeling that if you and Josh were a couple, he'd very quickly be trying to talk you into eating a porterhouse.”

“Oh my God, you're right. He probably would.” She and her mother exchanged a grin.

“And did you know he was born on August third? Mia and I were discussing how it would be nice if Maebeth could find someone—she really hasn't had much luck with the local men—and Mia mentioned that an astrologer predicted that Maebeth's soul mate would be a Leo. Well, I knew Josh's birthday from his job application. I decided it might be helpful if I dropped that tidbit of information one day when I was picking up the mail and Maebeth was on break.”

“How'd you manage to simply slip that into a conversation?”

“Honestly? I can't remember. But I think I could have gone into the luncheonette with a T-shirt announcing his birthday and she wouldn't have questioned my motives. Her face simply lit up. It's nice that things are working out between them. Maebeth deserves a big ol' Texan to love, don't you agree?”

“I do. I really do. Excellent work, Mom. I stand in awe. And here I thought I was doing good work when I told Maebeth about the recipe for mac and cheese.” Quinn shook her head. “Clearly I'm a rank amateur compared to you.”

“Give it time, but thank you for the compliment, darling.”

So her mom hadn't been trying to set her up with Josh, Quinn thought as she began to load the plates and cutlery in the dishwasher. All that fretting on her part had been unnecessary. But what about Ethan? Had her mom been doing some behind-the-scenes maneuvering with him and Quinn? “Hey, Mom, remember that meeting when Dad announced that Ethan was coming to stay? Why were you so reluctant about having him here?”

Immersed in the sudsy water, her mother's hands slowed. “Was I?” she said with an annoying vagueness.

“Yeah, you were. I remember thinking it was weird since Cheryl and Tony Saunders are such good friends.”

“Oh, well, I might have been worried.”

Quinn didn't buy her bright smile. “About what? His injuries?”

“Obviously.”

“Mom.”

She sighed. “Very well. I was concerned about you.”

“Me?”

“Quinn, you're a rescuer by nature. You always have been, ever since the day you found that baby bunny and brought it home. From Tony and Cheryl's descriptions of Ethan's injuries—not just his physical ones but also his emotional state—I worried that he might be too broken to heal. But he seems to be doing better, much better. That's thanks to you. You've helped him.”

“Maybe I have, but it's not enough. He's not really healed, Mom,” she said quietly so that her voice wouldn't break.

“Oh, Quinn.” Her mother wrapped her yellow-gloved arms about her and hugged her close.

E
THAN WASN'T SURPRISED
to learn that Quinn was the sort of person who preferred to celebrate New Year's Day by watching the sun rise on January 1 rather than staying up late drinking champagne on New Year's Eve and waking up to a sore head. In light of all that needed to be organized before they left for New York, with every one of them putting in extra hours to ensure the guest ranch would run smoothly in the Knowleses' absence, he was surprised Quinn made it to ten o'clock. The early bedtime had been fine with him. Lying with Quinn in his arms was a hell of a nice way to greet the New Year.

And watching the sun illuminate her face easily beat the wildest, craziest of parties.

He only wished she would relax. The faint lines of tension didn't detract from her beauty; the photographer in him recognized the allure of mystery. They worried him, however.

The only time he didn't sense her brain whirring as if it were fueled by a gallon of her strongest espresso was when they made love. Then he was able to see her eyes go wide with passion rather than narrow in preoccupation.

Even Lorelei remarked upon Quinn's unusual state when she dropped by on New Year's Day for extra-strong coffee, brewed by Quinn, and a tomato, spinach, and mozzarella frittata, which was Lorelei's contribution.

No sooner had they sat down at the kitchen table that did double duty as Quinn's dining room than Quinn launched into a recital of the special treats Lorelei could give Alfie and Pirate should they act stressed. The list was substantial.

“And there are Kongs filled with peanut butter in the freezer for Sooner and Bowie. Bully sticks are in the cabinet to the left of the dog food,” she added.

“Listen, Quinn, Francesco and I are going to take good care of these guys. And remember, you'll only be gone for five days. The world won't end.”

Quinn gave her a funny look. “No, I guess it won't.” She dredged up something that resembled a smile. “I suppose I'm freaking out.”

“Yeah, kind of.”

Ethan wisely remained silent.

“New York is so far from California,” Quinn said.

“Nothing's going to happen.” When Quinn looked far from convinced, Lorelei patiently persisted. “All your animals are healthy. Tucker's back in the pasture and giving free tetherball lessons to anyone who wanders over. If, God forbid, something should go wrong with any creature, furred or feathered, I have both Cat Lundquist and Gary Cooney on speed dial. Mel does, too. Okay?”

Quinn had asked Mel to care for Tucker and the nanny goats in her absence.

“Okay. Thanks, Lorelei. It just seems like so much could go wrong, you know?”

“Nope. I don't. This ranch has amazing people working here, wranglers who care about the stock as much as your family does. As for the wedding, I'm sure it's going to be beautiful and fun.”

“Why can't people just elope?”

“And here I thought I could count on you as a bridesmaid.”

“Oh Lorelei, of course! I'd be honored. Did Francesco propose?”

“Last night. At the stroke of midnight.” Beaming, Lorelei held up her hand. The diamond on her ring finger caught the light and winked at them. “I've been waving this around waiting for you to notice.”

“Sorry. Super, super distracted. It's beautiful.”

For a few minutes the two friends bent their heads over Lorelei's ring while Ethan took another slice of frittata and wondered what kind of engagement ring would put a dazzling smile of happiness on Quinn's face. A sapphire to match her eyes? A ruby to symbolize her heart? A diamond as magnificent and bright as her spirit? It wasn't too early to plan, though now wasn't the time to propose. Better to wait until she was less crazed by everything going on.

He'd give her time and show her that he was fine working as a ranch hand, dispelling the doubt he'd read in her expression and silencing the nagging voice in his head.

Quinn and Lorelei straightened.

He took the opportunity to compliment Lorelei on the egg dish.

“Thanks. I'm concentrating on eating well today, since I have a feeling Quinn will leave us with way too many brownies. So how about you, Ethan? Are you looking forward to visiting New York?”

He swallowed his mouthful of frittata. “Yeah, I haven't been there in a while.” His last trip there had been just a few days before his departure for Afghanistan. It included meeting Dara for a drink, the decision to end things between them perfectly amicable; taking the time to see the stunning and sobering exhibit of Mathew Brady's Civil War photographs at the Metropolitan; and sharing a lunch with Erin Miller, during which she'd told him again how excited she was about the project. Her words had made him feel as if his photographs had the potential to play as important a role as Brady's had in portraying men in battle. Buoyed by his meeting with Erin, he'd flown to Washington to say goodbye to his parents and then had left for the army base where the military liaison had arranged for him to hitch a ride on a military plane to Kandahar.

“Maybe you guys can sneak away and do something fun on your own,” Lorelei said.

He shook off the memories of those first surreal days at Camp Nathan Smith, the motor of his camera whirring, his eyes burning from the strain of trying to take everything in. “Yeah, that would be good. How about it, Quinn? Want to plan on ditching the wedding festivities for an hour or two with me?”

She straightened in her chair, his question seeming to pierce her previous abstraction. “Yeah, all right.” She nodded, at last enthusiastic about something related to the trip. “But I get to choose the destination.”

Lorelei took a sip of her coffee. With a wince she set the cup back down and poured cream into it until it was a pale caramel color. “What do you want to bet Quinn takes you to visit the NYPD's new stables? Though I've heard they're really nice.”

“I'll have to pass on the bet, Lorelei. Luckily, I have no problem with Quinn taking me anyplace she wants to go. Whatever makes you happy,” he said to Quinn with a smile. It was true. He wanted to see her as happy as she'd been before the combined rush of the holidays and the frenzy of the travel preparations dimmed the light in her eyes.

Quinn fought the guilt, knowing it would suffocate her otherwise. As her mom had said on Christmas morning after hearing her confess her worry about Ethan, “If you love him, and I can see you do, darling, you have to do what's best for him. And then it's up to him, isn't it?”

True. But holding up the mirror of truth was a lousy and sure-to-be-thankless job.

And now Lorelei had provided the perfect cover for her plan, the final moment when Ethan would have to take a good hard look at what kind of man he really was and decide whether he had the courage to stop hiding away at Silver Creek. Quinn had been obsessing about how to fabricate a plausible reason for him to go off with her and not arouse his suspicion. Thanks to his offer to go wherever she wished, she could present the destination as a surprise. He'd be game, she knew.

Her stomach tightened at the depth of the trust he had in her.

“Do you need help choosing what dresses to bring?”

She started, then glanced over her shoulder at Ethan. He was lying on the bed, legs stretched out, bare feet crossed, hands folded behind his head, a smile playing across his lips.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ethan gave an amused shake of his head. “Only you've been staring into your closet for the past five minutes and haven't moved a muscle. Don't you already have the dress for the wedding?”

Thank God he thought she was worried about her wardrobe. Deciding to run with it, she gave a wave of her hand. “Pfft,” she said. “The wedding's nothing. First of all, we'll be in New York City. There'll be dinners, lunches, cocktails, and who knows what in between. And the forecast is for cold, cold, and more cold. Of course I'm stumped about what to pack.” She sighed loudly.

“Quinn, anything you choose to wear, you're going to look beautiful in. Right now, dressed in your jeans and tee, you're the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen.”

Lord, he turned her insides to mush so easily. With their departure a mere eighteen hours away, his kindness was making her feel like the slimiest of traitors. How did other people manage deceit with a loved one? Did they possess some ability to compartmentalize, block out their guilt, or rationalize away the wrong they were inflicting?

A part of her almost wished for the callousness that would involve, because it hurt so much to be with him, kiss him, succumb to the enchantment of his hands and body while knowing that in a matter of days she might lose him.

“I'm pretty sure Mom will kill me if I show up in my jeans to any of those events.”

“Well, then, I vote for the skirt you wore on Thanksgiving. A particular favorite of mine.”

She fought for a grin. “How about you? Are you packed yet?”

“Yup. Took about five minutes.”

“Rub it in, why don't you?”

His smile spread. “Granted, I'll have to make a speedy shopping expedition and pick up a couple of suits and some other items when I get to the city. My time at the army base didn't exactly call for wedding attire.” And with that his smile was gone.

She made a show of selecting the knit burgundy skirt, a fitted cream silk top, and a pair of cigarette-leg black trousers and carried them to the foot of the bed, depositing them next to her open suitcase. “What about your cameras and equipment?” she asked casually with a glance over her shoulder.

“What about them?”

“Are you leaving them here?”

He hesitated a moment too long. “Sure. Why would I bring them with me?”

Even if Quinn hadn't noticed his hesitation, she certainly would have heard the forced note in his reply.

As if nothing were amiss, she returned to her closet, where she fingered a black cocktail dress she'd worn maybe twice and pulled it out. Already she'd chosen more black than she wore in a year. You'd think she was going to a funeral rather than a wedding to celebrate the love of two fantastic people. On the other hand, the color suited her mood perfectly. A mood that grew bleaker when she forced herself to say, “Why don't you stow the cases here, where they'll be extra safe?”

“I'll bring 'em over today.” The alacrity of his response revealed much.

“You can put them in the study closet. Alfie will watch them like a parrot.”

When he laughed, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkling appealingly, she realized it had been way too long since she'd attempted a joke. It made this one, lame as a horse with navicular, seem a freakin' laugh riot.

But not even Ethan's mirth could hide the fact that the prospect of being separated from his photography equipment for even five days left him as unhappy as she was at the prospect of leaving her animals. His photography tools and her animals were a vital part of their identities. While Ethan was denying his identity with everything he had, it didn't make leaving his cameras behind less painful.

At the thought, Quinn's guilt eased a fraction…only to resettle heavily over her heart as she began figuring out how to get the equipment cases to New York quickly and safely, with Ethan none the wiser.

Her transgressions were mounting, and they hadn't even reached New York.