Quinn's Woman (20 page)

“Let’s check out some of the boutiques,” she said, leading the way out of the anchor store.

“What does Rebecca like?” he asked. “What about shoes? Aren’t all women into shoes?”

D.J. raised her eyebrows. “Have you ever bought shoes for a woman.”

“No.”

“I suggest you never try.”

“Fair enough.”

He glanced down at her feet. She wore sandals. He liked looking at her bare feet. But with D.J. he pretty much liked looking at bare anything. Even in jeans and a tank top, which she had on tonight, she was sexy as hell. He wanted her naked, in his bed and screaming out her pleasure. As this was his fantasy and unlikely to happen anytime soon, he added the thrill of her grabbing him by the hips and begging him to take her.

“You’re grinning,” she said. “What are you thinking?”

“You really want to know?”

She sighed. “Probably not.”

They passed a lingerie store. “What about something from here?” he asked. “I could get into that.”

“How typical.”

“Men are more visual than women. It’s not our fault.”

“Uh-huh.” She paused outside a music box store. “They had a couple of things in here I saw last month, but I don’t know.”

Quinn moved behind her. The window display had been filled with music boxes. Everything from china dogs to dolls to carved wooden boxes.

“It seems like a Rebecca kind of place,” he said.

D.J. shrugged. “The stuff in here is too impractical.”

She started to walk away but he grabbed her arm. “Wait. Don’t you want to look inside?”

“Maybe.”

Her brown eyes darkened with something he didn’t recognize at first. Then he recognized vulnerability.

He rubbed his thumb against her upper arm. “If it’s from you, she’s going to love it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Actually, I do. Rebecca loves you.”

D.J. squirmed free. “We’re friends.”

“That’s what I said.”

She muttered something he couldn’t hear and stalked into the store. Quinn wondered why the L word bothered her so much. As a guy he could understand not wanting to hear it in a romantic sense. There was the whole being-trapped feeling. Although he’d never minded the thought of one woman for the rest of his life. But weren’t women supposed to be the warm nurturing ones? Didn’t love come easy for them, especially between friends?

Then he reminded himself this was D.J., and while she might be sexy and the most challenging woman he’d ever met, she wasn’t even close to easy.

He followed her into the store. She’d stopped in front of a display of tropical music boxes. One had a colorful cloisonne butterfly on top. She touched the edge of the wing.

“It’s beautiful,” he told her.

“It reminds me of Rebecca.”

“I can see that.” Oddly enough, it also reminded him of D.J., who was beautiful, but also tough. Like the butterflies who migrated thousands of miles each year.

She sighed. “I guess I’ll get it. I mean, I don’t see anything else I like as well.”

She was acting like this was no big deal, but he’d already figured out the truth. D.J. had wanted to buy the music box for Rebecca from the moment she’d seen it. But for some reason she’d been worried it wasn’t perfect. So she’d waited to get someone else’s opinion. He was touched that she’d allowed him to be the one to help her decide.

“She’ll love it,” he said.

“I hope so.”

Without thinking, he reached out and lightly stroked her cheek. She looked at him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

“Touching you.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to.”

Her eyes widened slightly. Tension crackled between them. Sure there was sexual awareness, but there was also something more. A connection. A possibility.

He waited for her to pull back, to protest, to slap his hand away. Instead she smiled.

“Okay.”

D.J. set down her tray on the table and slid into a plastic chair. She’d chosen to have Chinese for dinner, while Quinn had picked Italian. He offered her a slice of garlic bread.

“Not with my orange chicken,” she said, “but thanks for asking.”

“Anytime.”

When he’d invited her to dinner, she hadn’t been sure she’d wanted to accept. Nor had she wanted to say no, which made no sense but was right in line with how her life was going these days. However, if she’d tried to figure out what would happen during the dinner, she would never have imagined them dining in the middle of the food court.

“Save room for ice cream,” he told her. “I’m springing for two scoops.”

“Be still my heart.”

He grinned. “It’s the flowers, isn’t it? I brought you flowers and now you’re getting all gooey on me. Not that I mind.”

She blinked at him. “Gooey?”

“You know. Romantic. It’s nice.”

She grabbed her plastic fork. “I’m not getting romantic.”

“Sure you are. We can hold hands while we eat, if you’d like.”

She dropped her free hand to her lap. “I don’t think so.”

He winked. “I like that you’re shy.”

Shy? If she’d been drinking she would have spit. She might be a lot of things, but shy –

She glared at him. “You’re teasing me.”

“Uh-huh.”

She tried not to smile, but felt the corners of her mouth curve up anyway. Damn him. How did Quinn do that? All her life she’d been out of the mainstream. Never just a regular teenager or young woman. She told herself she didn’t mind being different, that she had a purpose. She needed to stay safe and keep others safe. But sometimes – rarely – she wanted to be like other women her age. Carefree. Unbound by the knowledge of how deadly the world could be.

When Quinn treated her like a regular woman, she could almost bring herself to forget.

He chewed a mouthful of ziti, then swallowed. “So I was thinking about the lingerie store,” he said conversationally. “After dinner, we should go back and you can model some stuff for me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.”

Her warm fuzzy thoughts faded. “I’m not going to prance around in sexy lingerie for you.”

“Technically, I never mentioned the word prance. See here’s the thing.” He leaned forward and dropped his voice. “I’ve been out in the jungle for a long time, serving my country. If you were to do this, you would be, in your own personal way, aiding the defense of our nation.”

She chewed her orange chicken. “Does anyone really buy into your lines?”

He winced. “That was cruel. I’m being completely honest here. You would look great in sleazy underwear. And I’m in a position to know, what with having seen you naked.”

D.J. didn’t know what was going on. For the past week, Quinn hadn’t mentioned that night she’d gone to his hotel room. She even wondered if he’d forgotten about it. Now, suddenly, it was a topic of conversation.

“Define sleazy,” she told him.

He grinned. “Cut down to your belly button, up to your hipbones. Or topless. Topless works. Silk, lacy, see-through. I’m not real picky.”

“I can tell.”

She thought about the lingerie store they’d passed early. They carried more high-end inventory. She would describe their stock as feminine and erotic, but not sleazy, There’s no way men would be allowed into the dressing room. Not that she was willing to give Quinn a fashion show for

one. Still...

She remembered the bustier they’d had in the window, with some high-cut panties and a garter belt. She was too muscular to be thin, but her body had plenty of curves and definition. Some men liked that. Did Quinn?

Unhappy with the question, and with the image of herself wearing the bustier while Quinn moved ever closer, she attacked her dinner.

“I’m into cotton,” she told him.

“Cotton could work. You would be hot in just about anything.”

She glanced at him. Damn if the man didn’t look sincere. And double damn if that sincerity didn’t make her feel all warm inside. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. So you want to go back to that store?”

“Nope.”

“What if I beg?”

She shook her head. “Explain the male fascination with the female body to me. I get why teenagers are interested, but once a guy hits his twenties, how can there be any mystery?”

He leaned toward her. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No. I’m serious. I don’t get it.” She set down her fork. “During the war games, before I met up with you, there were three army officers. They were in their thirties, experienced soldiers. I sent Ronnie to circle around back while I used a frontal approach.”

Quinn frowned. “You walked right up to them.”

“Sort of. First I took off my shirt. I had a tank top on underneath, no bra. I twisted it and tucked it under my breasts so it was tight. Then I rolled down my pants to bikini level, loosened my hair and acted stupid. It worked perfectly.” She took a sip of her drink. “I’ll admit that it was cold and my shirt was damp, so the breast thing should have been mildly interesting, but they were so caught up in the ‘girl thing’ they got caught. What’s up with that?”

“I have no idea.”

“It’s not as if each of them hadn’t seen dozens of women’s breasts before. They’re just breasts. Why are men such saps? Can you imagine what would have happened if I’d been wearing a wet T-shirt and a thong? They would have probably told me state secrets. Frankly, anyone wearing a thong deserves that. I mean why would any rational woman want to have something tugging up her –”

D.J. noticed that Quinn’s expression had glazed over. His eyes were slightly unfocused and he looked as if he was in pain.

“What?”

He made a noise low in his throat. “Change the subject.”

“We can’t talk about thongs at dinner? Why? You’re the one who wanted me wearing practically nothing.”

He reached over and grabbed her chair and pulled it several inches closer. Then he took her free hand and brought it to his crotch.

D.J. dropped her fork. He wasn’t just hard, he was throbbing. She felt the length and breadth of his erection but didn’t understand what had caused it.

“You’re turned on by thongs?” she asked.

He groaned. “No. By you in one. Or nothing. We have to change the subject.”

She slowly withdrew her hand. Several thoughts flooded her mind at once. They were, in no particular order, the realization that she was aroused, too. Somehow all the talk of being naked or almost naked, of him watching, of sex, had left her breathless and tingling. She also suddenly understood why he’d been angry after they’d been intimate. He was the kind of man who liked to share rather than just take. He’d trusted her and she’d violated that trust.

But the overwhelming feeling she had was one of awe. He wanted her, and he’d let her know. Even after what had happened between them, even after she’d refused to fully participate. Knowing she was difficult and that admitting to desire made him vulnerable, he’d done it anyway. What she didn’t know is if he’d been afraid, or if it hadn’t occurred to him to worry.

She could slaughter him with some verbal assault, but she didn’t want to. Instead she found herself wishing he would pull her to her feet and drag her out to his car where he’d drive her back to his hotel and make wild passionate love to her.

“Don’t look so shocked,” he said lightly. “I’ll survive.”

She knew that. They would all survive. They would get by. But somehow that didn’t seem like enough anymore.

“Quinn?”

“Don’t sweat it, Daisy Jane.”

Then he did the most amazing thing. He picked up her hand and brought it to his mouth where he pressed a soft, damp kiss against her open palm. Desire poured through her, flooding her until she wanted to plunge into the rising tide and never resurface.

The sexy, tender, erotic kiss made her want to curl up against him. She wanted to be held, and hold him. She wanted to touch, to be naked. She wanted to feel her body pressed against him and maybe, just maybe, let herself go. Just this once.

He stared into her eyes. She felt the connection down to her soul. If he didn’t want to risk asking her back to his hotel, she could invite him to her place. Except she never brought anyone home. The only person who even knew where she lived was Rebecca.

So many walls, she thought sadly. She’d been so concerned about keeping herself locked up and safe, she’d never considered who she might be keeping out.

“Ice cream?” he asked, breaking the mood and making her smile.

“Sure.”

“Two scoops?”

“I always go for the gusto.”

Quinn returned alone to his hotel room. He’d thought about inviting D.J. back with him, but the evening had gone so well, he hadn’t wanted to risk ending it on anything but a positive note. Plus, he had a hunch she’d felt a tingle or two while they were together. Better to have her wanting. He was determined that the next time they were together, he would break through her barriers and seduce her into surrendering. In the meantime, he could tell there would be several cold showers in his future.