The Mighty Quinns: Rourke (7 page)

“Did it wake you up?” she asked.

“When I’m with you, the last thing I’m thinking about is sleep.”

“Then take me to bed,” Annie said. She slipped out of his embrace and moved toward the warmth and comfort that awaited them beneath the faded old quilts.

She’d grown to love the feel of his naked body against hers, their limbs tangled together so that she couldn’t tell where he left off and she began. He pulled the quilts up over them both, then rolled her beneath him, bracing his weight on his outstretched arms.

“This is getting to be a habit,” he murmured, his dark gaze fixed on hers. “A habit I don’t want to break.”

They’d been living in the moment, with Annie knowing that it could end at any time. But she’d reached a point where she didn’t want to think about the end, about standing on her porch and waving goodbye as he drove off into the distance. She wanted to believe that they’d have many more nights just like this one.

He rolled to his side and retrieved the box of condoms from the bedside table, allowing Annie to slip the latex sheath over his hard shaft. She held her breath as he slowly entered her, the anticipation all she had imagined.

From the very first moment of their joining, she knew that this would be different. With every thrust, she felt herself dancing with the fringes of her control. He began slowly, but then his strokes grew deeper and faster.

Annie felt her body betray her, felt her fingertips and toes begin to tingle. When the spasms shook her body, they took her by surprise and she couldn’t stop herself. But as if he was waiting for a sign, Rourke pulled her hips against his and thrust once more before following her over the edge.

It seemed to go on forever and when Annie could finally think rationally again, she found herself oddly frightened. How would she ever do without this? How could she sleep in this bed alone and not want him here with her, driving her to the edges of desire, possessing her body and her soul?

She had dealt with so much loss in her life, yet all of it had been out of her control. But this was one thing she could control. If she wanted him to stay, she could ask him to stay. Every night could be like this night.

4

T
HE
STORM
WAS
winding down outside. The wind was merely a breeze now and the rain had stopped hours ago. After another round of incredible sex, they fixed dinner together.

Rourke had opened the shutters, but once the sun went down, the inside of the cottage was cast in the soft light from the oil lamps. Annie was curled up in her chair next to the fire, reading a book of Whitman’s poetry out loud as he finished the dinner dishes.

It was nearly midnight, but neither one of them was thinking about sleep. In truth, Rourke didn’t want to sleep. If this was the last night they spent together, he wanted to enjoy every minute of it.

He glanced over his shoulder at Annie, snuggled up beneath a crocheted throw, her hands kept warm by fingerless gloves. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, yet he was afraid he’d scare her off. If he’d learned anything over the past two days, he knew when to speak and when to hold his tongue.

He’d have to wait until she asked him to stay another night. She’d asked him not to leave but that had been heat of the moment. He worried that if he made the offer to stay now, she’d balk. Her brow would furrow and she’d give him a suspicious look, then explain once again that he would be leaving the island once he finally left her bed.

“The weather’s looking better,” he said, folding the dish towel and setting it next to the sink.

“These storms usually blow themselves out after a couple days.”

“I noticed that some of the shingles had come off your roof. I’m thinking I’ll run into town tomorrow and get some materials so I can patch your roof. You wouldn’t want it to leak.”

She slowly closed her book. “I thought you’d be leaving in the morning.”

“And I’m thinking I might stick around a little longer,” Rourke said. He held his breath, waiting for her response. But to his surprise, she merely shrugged.

“Suit yourself.”

“I kind of wanted to see if your seal comes back tomorrow.”

“She will,” Annie said, opening the book again.

Rourke rubbed his hands together, then walked over to the door, peering out the window into the darkness. They’d been cooped up in the cabin for forty-eight hours. He was beginning to get a little restless.

“So what do you do to entertain yourself?” he asked. “I mean, if I wasn’t here to entertain you, what would you be doing right now?”

“I read.” She held up her book. “Sometimes I write poetry or songs. I sketch. And paint. I sew. I have a loom in the parlor and during the summer, I weave. I garden and take walks in the summer. There’s plenty to do.”

He shook his head. “And you don’t ever get bored?” Rourke crossed the room and sat down across from her in the wooden rocker. Bending forward, he braced his elbows on his knees. “The one thing I’d miss is my music.”

“Don’t you have one of those iPod things?” she asked.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t compare to the sound system I had in my apartment.”

With a sigh, she dropped her book on the hearth and stood up. “Grab that lantern. If you want music, I’ll get you music.”

She opened the door and they stepped into the front half of the first floor. Rourke saw canvases propped up against the walls and he walked over to examine a painting of the lighthouse. He didn’t know much about art, but he knew the painting was good.

“You did this?”

Annie nodded. “It’s no big deal. Sometimes I trade one of my paintings for firewood. Sam Decker’s mother sells them in her shop in town. I heard there’s one hanging in the café now. No one knows I painted it, though, so don’t say anything around town, okay?”

“Why wouldn’t you want people to know?”

“I’m not a painter. I don’t want everyone thinking that I am and asking me to paint something for them.”

“It’s a good way to make money,” he said.

“I don’t need more money,” Annie replied.

Rourke bit back a curse. Why was she so afraid to want things in her life? Though she acted as if she was perfectly happy, he could imagine how difficult it was to eke out a living without any visible means of income. Why not sell a few more paintings and get some electricity in her place, or running water?

“I’d buy one of your paintings,” he said.

She drew a sheet off a tall, square-shaped cabinet. “Here it is. Help me move it.”

The cabinet was on wheels and they rolled it to the door and into the warmth of the kitchen. Annie opened the top to reveal an old Victrola. Then she pulled the cabinet door open and grabbed a record. “Remember these?” she asked.

“Records? Or 78s?”

“Records,” she said. She put the record on the turntable then took a crank handle out of the cabinet and stuck it into a hole in the side of the Victrola. “You wanted music. You have to wind it up.”

Rourke turned the crank and then flipped the lever and the record began to spin. He carefully dropped the needle on the edge of the vinyl and a few seconds later, the sound of an aria filled the tiny room.

“And we have music,” she said, plopping down into her chair near the fire.

Rourke had never heard anything quite so beautiful as that pure, perfect voice coming out of the old speaker. He pulled more of the recordings from the cabinet and sorted through them. When he found a few big-band recordings he turned off the opera singer and replaced her with Artie Shaw.

“I love this one,” Annie said, smiling. “‘Begin The Beguine.’ I always wondered just what a beguine was.”

“Don’t look at me. I don’t have a clue.” Rourke swayed over to her and pulled her to her feet. “It does kind of make you want to dance, doesn’t it?”

They made a few passes around the room before he pulled her down into the chair, settling her on his lap. “I want to take you out,” he said.

“Outside?”

“No. Out. On a date. Tomorrow night. We’ll find a nice restaurant and have a meal that neither one of us has to cook. There’s a really good pizzeria in Port Hawkesbury. Not fancy, but great pizza.”

Annie shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“No one knows you there. We’ll just be two regular people having a pizza and a few beers. It will be fun.”

He could see her searching for an excuse not to go. But in the end, she shrugged. “All right. I like pizza. It won’t be as good as mine, but I’ll try to keep an open mind.”

Rourke chuckled. “Good idea.” He pulled her close and kissed her. Annie wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled closer. For a long time, they did nothing but kiss. And though it was tempting to pick her up and take her to bed, he decided that he’d managed to take a very big step forward in getting her to agree to dinner out. He’d let her make the next move.

“Do you think we could go out for ice cream, too?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“I don’t get ice cream a lot. If I carry it home on my bike, it usually melts. In the summer, I ride into town and buy a pint at the supermarket and sit in the park and eat it all before I ride home.”

Rourke chuckled. “You really are the oddest girl I’ve ever met.”

“But odd in a good way, right?” She laced her fingers through his and drew his hand closer, letting it come to rest against her heart.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked, his lips brushing against hers. “I could put another log on the fire.”

“I’m quite snug,” she said, wriggling into his body.

He’d bought himself another night and without any discussion of when he planned to leave the island. She seemed almost resigned to the fact that he’d decided to stay.

Rourke smoothed his hand down the length of her leg and grabbed her foot, encased in a heavy wool sock. He gently massaged it, rubbing his thumbs into the arch. Annie sighed and smiled. “That’s nice.

She studied him silently as he focused on her feet and he knew something was on her mind. Finally she spoke. “I wanted to ask... Why did you come here before the storm?”

“I told you, I was worried about the weather. I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“Was that all?”

Rourke wondered what she was getting at. “I didn’t expect this,” he said. “I just figured I’d help you board up a few windows and move some things indoors.” He paused. “And maybe I was curious.”

“About what?”

“You. I remembered you from years ago. And when I saw you again, I wanted to make sure you were...happy.”

“And am I?”

“Yes,” Rourke said. “I’m happy to see that you are happy. You’re fine.”

She leaned close and kissed him, a kiss that began softly and sweetly. But Rourke wanted more. He slipped his fingers through the hair at her nape and began a gentle assault on her mouth, tempting her to surrender. Once he possessed her lips, then he’d move on to her body—her breasts, her belly, the long, sweet length of her legs.

For a woman who’d been through so much in her life, she seemed remarkably resilient. It was that inner strength that he found so attractive. She knew exactly who she was and what she wanted from life. And though she didn’t possess many of the creature comforts, she was content.

What did that feel like? Rourke wondered. Since his father’s death, he hadn’t felt satisfied with his own life. No one knew whether they would be alive tomorrow, and he hadn’t started living yet. He’d spent most of his adult life searching for something that would make him happy. Maybe he’d found it here, in this windswept cottage on this isolated spit of land...with this beautiful woman.

* * *

A
NNIE
OPENED
HER
eyes to a pounding that just didn’t want to go away. She rubbed her temple, wondering if it was just a leftover from some strange dream. But as she sat up in bed, she realized that the sound was coming from overhead.

Grabbing the quilt from the bed, she wrapped it around herself and crawled out of bed. Kit was gone and so was Rourke. She glanced at the clock hanging over the sink and saw that she’d slept away most of the morning.

He’d left the pot of coffee warming on the stove and she poured herself a mug before stepping outside onto the porch. A ladder was propped up against the edge of the porch roof and a few seconds later, she saw his legs, then the rest of his body as he descended the ladder.

“Hey,” he said, his face breaking into a wide smile. “You’re up. I was wondering if you were going to sleep all day.”

Annie ran her hand through her tangled hair. Even completely dressed, his hair windblown and his face shadowed by the stubble of a two-day beard, he was drop-dead sexy. “What are you doing?”

“I’m doing the prep work to fix your roof,” he said.

“You don’t have to do that,” she murmured.

He sauntered over and slipped his hands around her waist. His lips brushed against hers, then lingered for a deeper kiss. “I thought maybe we could work out a trade,” he murmured.

“What do you want to trade?” Annie asked, giggling as his mouth trailed down to her throat. A shiver skittered down her spine and she felt that familiar thrill that his touch elicited.

“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. Maybe another night like last night?”

“You don’t have to trade for that. I like to do that free,” she said.

He drew back and looked down at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Of course, that does have to do with your considerable skill in the sack.”

“I am good, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are very good.”

Rourke kissed her again. “You bring out the best in me.” He nuzzled her neck, then stepped away. “I need to finish the shingling,” he explained. “And then I’m going to buy some insulation and install it in the attic. The house would be much warmer if it were insulated better.”

“No, that’s too much,” she said. “I can’t afford that.”

“Don’t worry about it. You can give me a painting.” He strolled down the front steps, grinning to himself.

Annie frowned. She’d always paid her own way and taken great pride in the fact that she owed no one. This didn’t feel right. He’d said otherwise, but did he really expect that she’d repay him in the bedroom? Was that what this was about?

“No!” she called as he started to climb the ladder.

Rourke paused. “What?”

“No,” Annie repeated. “To the insulation. No insulation. I can’t afford it.”

“You can’t not afford it. It will save money on the firewood you use. And while I’m at it, I should put all new windows in the cottage. They’re so leaky that there’s no way to keep that room warm.”

“It’s fine the way it is,” Annie insisted. “Please, just fix the roof and that’s all.” She turned and walked back into the cottage, closing the door behind her.

But Rourke wasn’t about to let the subject rest. A few seconds later he walked inside, his expression tense, his gaze dark. “Why don’t we just have this out right now, okay?”

“I told you what I wanted. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Is it that you don’t think you deserve for people to do nice things for you? Or are you just so controlling that you can’t accept any help at all? Because, personally, I’d like to know so I don’t keep running into these brick walls when I’m with you.”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me, or fix my roof, or buy insulation for my attic. I’m fine all on my own.”

Rourke cursed beneath his breath. “Yes, I’m aware of that. You’ve proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt. But that doesn’t mean you can’t graciously accept help when it’s offered.”

“I don’t need charity.”

“This isn’t charity,” he retorted.

Annie felt her emotions surge and she fought against the tears that threatened. Didn’t he understand how difficult this was for her? She’d been alone for so long, suspicious of everyone around her. It wasn’t easy to trust anyone, not even the man she’d invited into her bed.

“I don’t have to explain myself,” she muttered.

“No, you don’t. But maybe you might like to. Annie, we can’t move forward if you don’t tell me what you’re really feeling. This doesn’t have anything to do with the damn insulation. Tell me why this bothers you.”

She crossed the room to her favorite chair and sat down, pulling the blanket more tightly around her body, as if it might offer a shield against his affection. Why not tell him? He’d be gone soon enough and it wouldn’t make a difference once he was.