Start Me Up (17 page)

Something that felt a lot like deep affection welled up in Lori’s chest and bubbled into her throat, forcing her to whisper. “I understand.”

“Do you?”

“Jane, are you kidding? Do you know what I do?”

Shrugging, she shook her head, though her chignon didn’t shift even a millimeter.

“I’m a
mechanic.
I spent my whole childhood in my dad’s shop. And now I’ve spent my whole adult life in the shop, too, damn it all to hell. So, yes, I know exactly what you mean. I curse like a sailor and never give an inch. I get greasier than I need to, just so they won’t call me prissy. Hell, I let the whole town think I’m a lesbian! So, yes, I get it. We’re two halves of the same coin, Jane. Lucky for you, you’re the shiny side.”

The woman drew back in surprise, eyes skittering down Lori’s dress. “But you’re so pretty and feminine—”

“This isn’t me.”

“Of course it is.”

“No, Jane, this isn’t me. I’m playing dress up, and it’s fun, but it’s not real.”

Jane’s mouth opened as if she were about to deliver a lecture, and Lori braced herself. Despite the woman’s youth, she looked fully capable of delivering some seriously stern shit. But then Jane’s brown eyes shifted and her frown popped into a smile.

“Mr. Jennings is looking for you. Finally.”

Lori relaxed. “The man does love to talk engineering, doesn’t he? But if he’s done, I’d better go.”

The careful touch on her arm stopped her. “Listen. If I remember what I heard, I’ll let you know. As long as it’s nothing proprietary to Jennings Architecture, you understand.”

Lori didn’t bother resisting the urge to give Jane a quick hug. “Thank you. Call me if you ever need a new set of spark plugs. Or a pretend lesbian date. I’m good for either.”

But unlike some of the other women in the room, she looked real. Not posed. Or even poised, frankly. Dressed up as she was, she wasn’t wearing any jewelry, not even earrings. But she looked fresh and warm and approachable.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed. Peter Anton stood a few yards away and his eyes were locked on Lori’s body.

Seeming completely unaware, Lori turned away from Jane and aimed a smile in Quinn’s direction. His heart shuddered.

“Hey, Quinn,” she said.

“Hey, Lori Love.” Her smile inched wider as it usually did when he said her full name. “Did you introduce yourself to Peter?”

The grin slipped. “Why?” She glanced in the man’s direction.

“Because he’s having trouble keeping his eyes off your ass. I thought you two had become friends.”

Her spine relaxed a little and the grin returned. “Nope. It must be the gravitational pull of my mojo.”

Quinn leaned closer until the scent of her shampoo filled his world. “I think maybe he’s got a good eye for the naughty ones.” Her lashes fluttered to her cheek. When she took a deep breath, he couldn’t help but notice the strain it put on her dress. “I’ve got a couple more people to talk to, and then we can go.”

She nodded, still looking down. A flush rose up her chest, reminding him of the delicate pink of her nipples. His heart shuddered again in reaction, so full of anticipation that it hurt. How strange this was. So new and so comfortable and so nerve-racking all at the same time. The feelings tangled around each other, coiling and stretching through him, expanding the feel of his body, if not the actual dimensions.

The pleasantries he needed to exchange became suddenly less important. He glanced around…

“You go on,” Lori urged him. “I’m fine.”

He searched the faces around him, evaluating each person’s status in the world of Aspen development. He should probably say hello to old Mr. Whitson. Then again, the ancient dandy caught Quinn’s eye, raised his brows in Lori’s direction and winked. He clearly had his priorities straight. Pretty women first, business later. A lesson Quinn would do well to learn.

“Or—” he turned his eyes back to Lori “—we could go now.”

Her dark curls bounced when she shook her head. “Oh, no. Really. This is business. We’ll leave when you’re done.”

Opening his mouth to disagree, he paused when he saw the way her eyes darted over the crowd. Maybe she needed a little more time to ease into the next few hours. She certainly looked nervous. “All right.”

“You go. I’m terrified of small talk, so I’ll join you after another drink. Is that okay?”

“That’s okay. But steer clear of Peter Anton. He’s looking particularly handsy and I’d hate to have to punch him out.”

“Deal.”

Quinn was halfway across the room and still smiling when he heard someone call Lori’s name. A very male, very loud someone. Abandoning his path toward Mr. Whitson, Quinn spun on his heel. Just out of curiosity.

“Lori Love!” the deeply accented baritone repeated.

He watched Lori’s face go comically blank before she looked toward the bar. Quinn looked, too.

A slim man with wavy black hair sauntered across the room, dark eyes locked on Lori. He was clearly pleased to see her, if the wide and self-satisfied smile was any indication. But how the hell could a French playboy like Jean-Paul D’Ozeville even have met a girl from Tumble Creek?

Locked in the riddle, he watched Jean-Paul wink at Lori—
wink?
—and then open his arms wide. What the
hell?

Quinn’s feet were moving even before the man’s arms closed around Lori.

“Jean-Paul!” Lori said, surprised but not shocked. She was starting to smile when her eyes caught Quinn approaching. Then the shock appeared. “Oh,” she breathed, but Jean-Paul’s smooth voice overrode hers.

“You never call me anymore,
petite.
”

Quinn’s feet froze.

“Ah…” Her gaze stayed locked with Quinn’s. “Well…”

“You should have come to Greece,” Jean-Paul chided. “The sea was magnificent, but not nearly as beautiful as you are tonight.”

“Thank you,” she stammered. “But…”

The man finally realized Lori wasn’t looking at him and eased her away to glance over his shoulder. “Oh, Quinn! How are you, my friend?” One of his hands stayed around Lori, and he actually turned her toward Quinn as if they were a couple.

What the…? The ambient conversation buzzed around Quinn’s ears like a swarm of flies. He wanted to swat it away.

Lucky for his nerves, Lori sidled over until Jean-Paul’s hand slid away. “Um, you two know each other?” she asked.

“Of course,” Jean-Paul answered cheerily. “Quinn is building a house for me! He is the best architect in town, and you know I will have only the best.”

“Yeah.” She stepped farther away from Jean-Paul, closer to Quinn, and his possessiveness eased a little. But not his tension. He took her hand and looked at his client.

“Ah, you are here together?” Jean-Paul chuckled. “Well, Quinn, I did not mean to make your face so cloudy.” He winked at Lori again, the bastard. “There is no reason to build me an ugly house. Ms. Love and I were friends for only a few short weeks before she flitted on to her next conquest. You are a lucky man.”

“Oh, come on,” Lori muttered under her breath.

Quinn looked from her to Jean-Paul in growing confusion. Confusion, because this made no sense. No sense at all. Lori didn’t date guys like this. She’d made that clear. Hadn’t she?

His tongue dried out before he realized his mouth was hanging open.

Jean-Paul looked inordinately cheerful and as indulgent as a favorite uncle. “I will leave you to your evening then. No use wasting that dress on an old friend, eh, Lori? Quinn, I will see you next week when you return from your trip. Good evening,
mes amis.
”

After he bowed over Lori’s hand like a damned French count, Jean-Paul returned the way he’d come and left Quinn gaping at his retreating back. “What was
that?
”

“Um, anyway…” she mumbled.

Not quite satisfied with that response, Quinn dropped her hand and looked down to see her crossing her arms. “I must be confused. Because that strange episode gave me the impression that you used to date Jean-Paul D’Ozeville.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Pardon me?”

Lori cleared her throat and looked around as if she wanted to see who was watching before she answered. “Yeah.”

“Let me get this right. You, Lori Love, used to date Jean-Paul D’Ozeville, French playboy extraordinaire?”

Lori’s chin inched up. “He’s not French. He’s from Monaco.”

He couldn’t keep his jaw from dropping again. Had she really just put a fine point on the guy’s nationality?
“What?”

“He’s from Monaco. Though, of course, he lived in France for a while when he was on the Formula One circuit, so…” She cleared her throat. “Anyway.”

He stared at her until she tapped her ruby-slippered foot.

“What?” she demanded.

“Jesus Christ, Lori, that man is old enough to be your father!”

The grumpy set of her jaw inched into anger. “He’s fifty.”

“Yes! He’s fifty! Do the math.”

“Hey, don’t be rude.”

They stood in the middle of the party glaring at each other for at least thirty seconds before Quinn jerked his head toward the front. “Are you ready to go?”

She took off for the door before he’d even finished the question, and Quinn followed, trying his best not to meet anyone’s eyes so he wouldn’t have to smile pleasantly. Pleasant wasn’t even close to what he felt.

“What are you so pissed about?” she demanded as soon as he closed his door.

“What the hell do you think?” he shot back. He started the car with a roar and pulled out without looking at her.

“Well, you’re behaving a lot like I did the last time we ran into someone
you’d
slept with. So I guess I’d have to go with jealousy.”

“I’m not jealous,” he muttered. The car sped up.

“No? Wait, I’ve got it. You’re morally outraged that I had sex outside of marriage! No, no, that can’t be it…”

Quinn braked hard and turned the corner onto a residential street. It was probably a bad sign that he’d thrown the car into manual. Each time he shifted gears he clenched his jaw. “I’m morally outraged that you slept with
that
guy.”

“Does he kick puppies or something?”

He finally glanced her way, eyes glittering with anger. “I can’t believe the shit you gave me about dating ‘sophisticated’ women, when you were dating a European playboy who’s nearly twice your age.” Despite his anger, Lori noticed that Quinn slowed the car to a crawl when they passed a driveway full of skateboarding kids.

“I was shocked, all right?” he said into the silence. “I didn’t think you normally went out with Aspen guys.”

Lori’s mouth fell open. “Oh, my God. Are you upset because you thought you were the first successful guy I’d ever dated?”

“No,” Quinn scoffed.

“Then what?”

“It’s just…” His eyebrows fell even lower. “He’s just…Jesus, he’s such a typical rich guy.”

Her snort of laughter probably didn’t do much for his ego, but she couldn’t help it. “By rich, you mean he has an expensive car and he’s building a gorgeous house and he travels the world? Boy, that sounds familiar.”

“Yeah, you left out the personal jet and the three homes and the younger women and the whole stable of sports cars!”

“Okay, so he’s a little richer than you. Is
that
the problem?”

Quinn swung the car into the steep driveway of a pretty group of condos designed to look like individual cottages. He very calmly set the brake and killed the ignition before turning toward her. Then he just glared for a long moment, mouth a flat, tight line of simmering anger.

After drawing in a long, steady breath, he sighed and relaxed a fraction of an inch. “Okay,” he muttered. “It’s possible I was a little jealous. It was strange to stand next to some other guy, knowing you’d had sex with him. I was…shocked.”

Relief bubbled up in her blood. She knew that look already. He’d lost his temper but he was past it now. He wasn’t going to be an ass…and this date wasn’t over.

Lori raised one eyebrow. “I
might
be able to understand your reaction. I had a similar response to your absurdly tall ex-girlfriend, if I remember correctly.”

“Right. So we’re both crazy. Perfect.”

“Perfect,” Lori agreed, grinning just a little. “But you might be a little crazier. I can’t believe you were jealous of a man old enough to be my father.”

His eyes narrowed. “Very funny. But you did sleep with him, didn’t you?”

“Mmm.” She cleared her throat, loudly.

“Exactly,” Quinn muttered. When he reached for her hand, shocks sizzled through her palm. “I’m sorry. Will you accept my apology even though I’m still a little pissed?”

“I guess I’d better. I assume this is your place?”

He finally smiled. “Dare I invite you in?”

“I’m not sure. Did you buy any of that Málaga wine?”

His smile turned wicked. “I did.”

“Then let’s go, Mr. Jennings.”

Quinn was out and coming around to open her door before she could blink. She took his hand and followed him into his home. It was beautiful, of course. Woodsy and bright and amazing. Lori looked over the hand-hewn railings of the stairway and the stained-wood doors and windows, all of it polished to a sheen. The walls were painted a pale sage that set off the warm brown leather furniture perfectly.

“Wow,” she breathed. “What a great place.”

“Thanks. I credit my housekeeper. She keeps the rustic look fashionable. I’ve noticed that when rustic gets dusty it heads straight into ‘old barnyard.’”

“What happens when you add flocked wallpaper to dusty old barnyard?”

“Ahhh…very retro shabby chic?”

“Shabby. Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Quinn disappeared into the kitchen, so Lori wandered over to a black-and-white photo she recognized as one of Ben’s. He was good enough to work professionally, in Lori’s opinion, and this picture was no exception. Black towers of pine trees silhouetted against perfect white clouds. She could almost see the limbs swaying.

“I’ve tried to convince him to sell them,” Quinn said from behind her. He sneaked an arm around her to offer a glass of wine. “Hell, if he’d just stick an exorbitant price on a few of them, half my clients would decorate their houses with Ben’s pictures and he’d be set.”

“Molly says he likes to keep that part of his life private.”

“Well, considering that his sex life is tangled up with my sister’s career, I suppose he’s got to keep something out of the public eye.” He touched her elbow. “Come outside and see the view.”

The deck was small, just enough room for a café table and two chairs, but the view made her sigh. The mountains rose up through a veil of pale green aspen leaves. The highest of the peaks still glowed pink with snow in the setting sun on a few of the northern faces. “It’s so peaceful.”

Lori took her first sip of wine and closed her eyes to savor the cool sweetness as she inhaled the greenness of the trees. She felt the heat of Quinn’s body draw closer, and suddenly his lips brushed her shoulder. Eyes still closed, Lori just breathed.

“I hope I didn’t ruin the evening,” he said, the words shivering over her skin.

She shook her head and took a longer sip of wine. When he dragged his chin over her shoulder, the barest hint of stubble scratched her chin.
Roughness,
she thought, and that one word recalled the plans Quinn had revealed for the night.

Her lungs ached when she took too deep a breath.

Rough. He wanted to be rough with her.

“You’re so beautiful,” Quinn murmured, mouth still on her skin. His hands settled on her upper arms…as if he was holding her, trapping her against the wooden railing. “So pretty.”

She didn’t want to break the spell, the sudden danger that shimmered on the air, so Lori didn’t even bother to voice her protestation that she wasn’t pretty. Let him have his fantasy, too. She wanted to be delicate and helpless, and he wanted her to be feminine and beautiful. Perfect.

And then he pressed his body into her, already hard with lust. The railing pushed into her belly, his hands tightened around her arms, and the fantasy blossomed, swallowing up real life. She was powerless in the face of his strength, and his mouth on her skin made her beautiful.

Lori rested her glass on the rail and arched her head to one side. His lips and teeth and tongue strayed from her shoulder to her neck, sucking and biting along the way. She didn’t press into his erection, she just stayed still and let him do as he wanted. Finally, he pressed his hips more firmly to her backside, sucked harder at her neck, and she had to part her lips to breathe.

She barely noticed when his hold slid lower, but she definitely noticed when he pulled her arms behind her back and wrapped one hand around both of her wrists. Oh, God. The hot jolt that shot through her stirred up so much tamped-down need that Lori’s brain went dim for a moment. She had a vague thought that she might have moaned but couldn’t be sure. Her mind was too busy rejoicing that someone had finally done the thing that she’d been too embarrassed to ever ask for.

His other hand brushed between her shoulder blades a moment before the distinctive sound of a lowering zipper pierced the silence. Her bodice loosened just a bit, and then he stopped.

The reflection of the sun had deepened to umber. The trees shaded the balcony from view and deepened the patio to an even-darker shadow than the rest of the world. Would he strip her here? Fuck her against the rail? Lori’s eyes rolled, trying to determine whether anyone could see them. Quinn didn’t seem to care. He spread his fingers wide over her chest and slid his hand beneath her dress.

“You were very rude tonight,” he whispered as he cupped his hand gently over her breast.

Lori bit her lip and shook her head.

“Yes, you were. Flaunting your old lover in front of me.”

He was really going to play this game, invest in the fantasy and not just go through the motions. Lori squeezed her thighs tight together at the sheer pleasure of it. “I’m sorry,” she breathed.

“I don’t think you are.” He rolled one nipple lightly between his thumb and forefinger.

“I am.”

He teased her for a long moment, still soft and slow. “I don’t find your apology…
sincere
.” He whispered the word and squeezed her nipple hard at the same time.

Gasping, Lori arched suddenly away from him, and the hand on her wrists tightened. He hadn’t really hurt her, it had just been the shock of the sudden, inescapable pressure that made her shy away. But Quinn couldn’t know that. He stroked her nipple gently with the pad of his thumb.

“You need a safe word,” he said.

“A what?”

“A safe word. Because then—” he bit her earlobe, increasing the pressure until she gasped “—then you can tell me no as often as you want, and I won’t stop.”

Oh, good God, she couldn’t take this. Her clit was too tight already, primed to seize up at any moment. The thought of moaning
No, Quinn, please don’t. Please…

The intensity of her reaction to the idea scared her.

I can’t,
she started to say, but strangely enough, the words that came out were, “
Sunset.
My safe word is
sunset.
”

His fingers twitched against her breast, but his voice was smooth as satin. “Excellent. Now back to your apology.”

This was embarrassing. She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t. Her blush already burned so hot that it hurt.

Quinn pinched her nipple again, hard, and Lori gave up.

“I’m sorry!” she cried.

He nodded, his cheek rubbing her hair. “Maybe. But I’m not sure I believe you. Do you think you can convince me?”

“Yes.” Oh, yes, she was sure she could.

Slipping his hand out of her dress, Quinn stepped back, though he kept control of her wrists. The silk tightened around her straining ribs as he pulled the zipper up and nudged her toward a door set at a right angle to the one they’d come through. When he reached past her and opened the door, a wide bed filled her vision.
His
bed.

Her hesitation was genuine, though it was only caused by surprise. Quinn pushed her forward. He slammed the door shut with his foot and plunged them into night.

Good. She could do this in the dark, pretend his wasn’t a face she’d see for years to come. She could get on her knees for him, beg him not to hurt her, do anything he asked…

One little click and light flooded the room. Lori cringed from it, heart jumping in shock, but the light faded to a warm, soft glow before Quinn dropped his hand from the switch. Not dark, but nearly dreamlike.

But that bright light had shocked her from her desire, pushed her head above the water for a brief, unhappy moment. “Quinn, I don’t…Shit. Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want you to do this if—”

“Hush.” It wasn’t an order. Not at all. It was a caress, a friendly touch of a word. A reassurance. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day, Lori, so hush.”

She swallowed her mortification. “All right.”

While she’d been worrying, Quinn had apparently grabbed a tie, because he turned her around, pulled her wrists together in front of her and began wrapping them tight. The silk was too fine to hurt her skin, but there was no mistaking that he meant her not to escape. He wound the ends around several times to provide a cushion, then tied one knot before repeating the process. She couldn’t move. She tried to wrench her arms apart and achieved nothing but horniness in the process. Quinn watched her struggle and smiled.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

Lori turned—a stuttering, nervous movement. She caught her heel on the carpet and nearly fell before his hands curved over her shoulders to steady her. She started to say, “Thank you,” but the second syllable stuck on her tongue when Quinn swept another tie over her head and covered her eyes.

Her world went black, but she was alone in this darkness. Quinn could see everything. Blood rushed to her skin, opening her nerves up to the sensation of air pushing around her each time he moved.

“Is this okay?” he whispered.

Was it? She felt so damn vulnerable. But she’d chosen this game, hadn’t she? In the bare space of a second, as the rasp of the silk pulling into a knot slithered against her hair, Lori made her decision. If she was going to do this, she’d do it right, damn it.