Two Wrongs Make a Right (17 page)

“What do you mean?”

He stopped wiping and slung the rag over his shoulder. “Said she was waiting for someone and would give me a sign when you got here. Paid for the drink up front.”

None of it made sense. Why pick him, spend the weekend, then disappear like a ghost? If Dave hadn’t confirmed her existence, Dak would think he’d dreamed the whole thing.

Quinn stretched, and opened her eyes, stopping the most delicious Dak dream. She whispered a laugh at the alliteration. He
was
a delicious dream. Yeah…too bad…that’s all he’d ever be. Glancing at the time, she sat up straight. Three p.m.? Good Lord. She’d slept the day away and still didn’t feel rested. Flopping back down on the mattress, she stared at the ceiling. By now, he knew she’d left.

No reason to waste any more time on shoulda, woulda, coulda. Forcing herself out of bed, she stumbled into the bathroom.

An hour later, trapped in a web of deceit, she pulled her car to the curb in front of Dixie’s Diner. It was nearby, and had a homey atmosphere, plus, the coffee wasn’t five bucks. Yellow and white striped awnings framed the windows and struck a sharp contrast to the box planters overflowing with red geraniums and ivy.

From a corner booth, Raynie and Megan waved as Quinn entered. She stopped at the counter to order, then slid in next to her blonde friend, who bounced on the bench seat. “We can’t wait to hear all about it. Why wouldn’t you let us text you? How good is he in the sack?”

Megan nudged Raynie. “Hush, and let her start at the beginning.”

The waitress appeared and set a mug on the table. Apparently, she understood they were in the middle of something because she didn’t say anything. Quinn nodded her thanks, and the server walked away.

“Well, things didn’t go exactly as planned.”

Raynie exchanged a mutual expression of confusion with Megan, then focused on Quinn. “What do you mean?”

“Justin showed up right on time, and I’ve got to say he’s even hotter in person than in that company photo.”

“Cut to the chase,” Raynie said. “How does he look naked?”

“I never got a chance to find out.”

“What? But, you spent the weekend with him. Are you saying you didn’t—you know, do it?”

“Oh, I did it plenty.” Quinn smiled, getting a warm sensation from the memory. “But not with Justin.”

Both women leaned forward, and Megan said, “Then who?”

“Oh my God. The suspense is killing me.” Raynie leaned in a bit more. “Did you choose some random guy? That is so not you.”

Quinn splayed her hands, palms up for emphasis, and moved them up and down as she explained. “I didn’t choose. I had everything arranged. All the bartender had to do was tell Justin his drink was paid for, but barkeep Dave, misunderstood my signal, and gave the free drink to the wrong man.”

Raynie bounced again and clapped her hands. “Holy shit! That was fate stepping in. You stayed three days with him, so he must have been good—and by good, I mean
bad
—and by bad, I mean
goo-ood
.”

Megan drew her face tight. “Who got the drink?”

Closing her eyes, Quinn leaned her head back and sighed. “The most romantic, sweetest, kindest, sexiest, man I’ve ever met.” She placed a hand to her chest. “I felt things with him I’ve
never
experienced before. We went fishing. Made love outside during a storm. Danced in the moonlight.” She snapped out of it and looked at Raynie. “Tall, green eyes, and gorgeous naked.”

Megan covered her face and spoke into her hands. “Oh God, please tell me you did not spend the weekend with Dak Savage.”

Quinn cocked her head. “Yes, I did, and why didn’t you include him for consideration?”

“Crap, crap, crap,” Megan said, and laid her head on the table.

Raynie leaned down. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing—and everything.”

“What does that mean?”

“Hush. I’m praying Quinn had sense enough to use good condoms and there’s no chance of being pregnant.” She rolled her head to look at Quinn. “Please tell me I’m right.”

“You are.”

Megan smiled, her eyes now full of sparkle and relief. “Thank the Lord.”

“Seventy-five percent.”

The twinkle in her eyes faded. “Seventy-five percent what?”

“Chance that I’m not pregnant.”

“Holy moly guacamole!” Raynie jerked her head back and forth, focusing on one friend and then the other.

Megan went quiet, and Quinn knew a detailed account was warranted, so she called on Molly for help. “Okay, Dak got the drink, and I tried to get out of there, but he followed me into the parking lot, and then he kissed me, and the next thing I know, I’m back inside and we’re dancing.” She took a quick breath. “I liked him. Really liked him. And when we got to my hotel room, I decided not to go through with the plan.”

“Then where does the seventy-five percent come in?”

Quinn’s shoulders slumped. “Just my luck I’d pick the one man in the universe who doesn’t carry a condom because of some stupid rule about picking women up in bars.”

“Oh no,” Megan groaned.

“I still thought I was okay, because my three bad condoms were first in the box, so all I had to do was take one from the bottom, but then he said he’d get it, and he poured them all out, and chose one, and it turned out to be one with holes. After that, I got rid of the other two, so we only had unprotected sex once.”

Megan ran her hands through her hair pulling it tight against her head. “I’m still not getting the percentage thing.”

“I researched, and a woman my age can’t get pregnant that easily. Only a twenty-five percent chance on the first try. Then there are other factors. He was drinking. That lowers sperm count. He carried his cell phone in his jeans pocket. Again, decreases the number. He takes hot showers, so that affects his swimmers. Add to that the stress he’s feeling concerning that possible takeover of your company, and that should really make it difficult.”

Megan released her hair, picked up her water and gulped. She set the glass next to her cup and scooted the saucer around. “Let me get this straight. There is a twenty-five percent chance you’ve got Dak’s baby in your oven right now.”

“When you say it like that it sounds bad. It’s better if you concentrate on the larger number. The worst part is because I lied, I can never see him again. I’ve never met anyone like him. He has a beautiful house in the country, which he built with his own two hands.”

“I could do a reading. That might tell us if you’re pregnant.”

“I don’t think I am. With all those things I mentioned working against me, it seems damn near impossible. I’ll wait for Mother Nature.”

Megan nodded. “Quinn’s right. No need to borrow trouble. I can’t believe you appealed to him because you are not his type. I’ve never seen him with a woman over the age of twenty-five, so I couldn’t imagine you’d have a chance in hell that he’d be interested.”

Raynie scrunched her face. “That’s rude.”

Megan dismissed her with a hand wave. “Nothing against Quinn. It’s him. He likes them young and blonde.” She faced Quinn again. “So we’ve got what? A couple of weeks before we know if you’re pregnant or not? Between now and then, I’ll be praying my ass off. Dak has such strong moral values, if you are, and he ever finds out, we’ll be in a shit load of trouble.”

Quinn’s heart sank. Megan was probably right, Molly wasn’t his type, and he’d only spent the weekend with her because she’d been easy. It made sense. Easy lay and then after the back-to-back sex, he probably figured why not tap that all the way to Memorial Day. She was such a fool. She’d thought he’d be upset to find her gone without a note, when in fact, he was probably relieved. When would she ever learn and stop making a fairytale out of every relationship?

~~*~~

As Quinn waited for Mother Nature, every day was endless. She tried to concentrate on work, but hardly an hour passed that she didn’t think of Dak and her possible dilemma. Her body indicated the start of her period. Her breasts were sore, and she was bloated, not to mention how weepy she was. When she baked, she cried about her dad’s condition. Even though he was doing fine, the threat of cancer returning always loomed. Just the thought of visiting her mother brought tears, and that damn animal cruelty commercial with Sarah McLachlan’s haunting song created a flood big enough to float the ark.

Putting away the last of the pots and pans, Quinn flashed back to the top of the line appliances in Dak’s kitchen. Her chest rose and fell with a blissful sigh. Cooking in an environment like that was paradise. When she’d seen it, she’d wanted to climb on the gleaming granite countertops and roll like a dog in grass. Let the surface rub against her skin. Embrace the French door refrigerator with ice maker and filtration system. Bask in the light illuminating custom design shelves and super glide vegetable drawers. Even now, the smooth surface range called like a siren’s song, enticing her to use its double ovens.

Unbelievable. I’m even in love with the guy’s kitchen!

Shaking herself from the trance, she removed her apron, and poured herself a glass of water. She was dry as a bone. Ever since Memorial Day, she suffered from an uncontrollable thirst. She decided it was a side effect of all the lies she’d told. After draining the tumbler in a few gulps, she refilled it and drank again. She ambled down the hall to the bathroom, and when she sat on the toilet, the answer to the biggest question of her life, stared her in the face. Four days early, she’d gotten her period. She burst into tears and wasn’t sure if they were from joy or sadness.

She grabbed a wad of paper and held it to both eyes. On one hand, she was relieved. Lying wasn’t in her nature and she must have been crazy to think she could do it without guilt and shame. That combination, she’d discovered, was lethal. It tied her stomach into a knot, turned her heart to stone, and blackened her soul.

Now all she had to do was figure out a way to see Dak again, and tell him the truth.

~~*~~

Dak walked past Helen’s desk and she looked up at him. “Yeah, I know. If Molly Harper calls, put her through no matter what you’re doing.” The secretary rose and followed him into his office. “Do you ever plan to tell me who she is?”

He set his brief case on the floor. Helen plopped into one of the two leather client chairs, crossed her legs, and folded her arms as if she’d taken up permanent residence.

He sat, rocked back, and stretched out his legs. “No idea.”

Helen shifted, leaned forward, resting her forearms on her thighs. “That makes no sense, so you need to tell me the whole story.”

He never whined about women, but Molly was different. He’d opened his heart and home to her. Something he’d never done before and for her to leave without as much as a note, hurt. So what if she’d gone back to her former boyfriend? She could have at least told him. They’d made no promises to each other, but he’d been clear about wanting to see her again, and he expected some common courtesy. He was sure Helen agreed.

He spent the next fifteen minutes relating the saga, and when he finished his assistant said nothing, just sat back and studied him.

“Well? I’m right, aren’t I? Don’t you think she should have at least called? And what’s going on with her telling the bartender she was waiting for me? That part is driving me nuts.”

She took a deep breath, and he didn’t like her expression. “Well?”

“I’m thinking. You said you thought she was getting even with her boyfriend. So maybe she was waiting for a guy with a certain look. Big. Handsome. Green eyes. You filled the bill.”

“Hadn’t considered that. You may be right. But why sneak away?”

Helen fiddled with the diamond cross resting against her windpipe, and it took him back to the bar and Quinn messing with his shirt button. Heat settled in his groin, so he shook the memory away.

“Let’s put the shoe on the other foot,” she said. “And be honest. Back in the day when you
were
hooking up, how many one-night-stands did you leave without saying goodbye?”

“Plenty. But that’s because I’m a guy. We’re jerks.” He held up his hand. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. It shouldn’t be that way, but it is. The thing that bothers me most is I can’t find her. It’s like she doesn’t even exist. I called every medical supply company in El Paso and nobody named Molly or Harper ever worked at any of them. And, she has no social media. How do you explain that?”

“With all the cyber stalking going on, I’d say it’s easy. Face it. Women have to be more careful than ever these days. She meets you in a bar. Doesn’t know you from Adam, so to be safe, she gives you fake information. That way, if things don’t work out, you can’t hunt her down—like you’re doing.”

He rocked forward. “Is that what I’m doing? Stalking her? That’s not my intention. I just want answers. I liked her. She liked me. Hell, I took her to the woods at midnight. I could have been a serial killer. She trusted me enough to go, so I don’t get it.”

“Speaking of trust. Did you share the story about the scar on your chest? How you almost died because a woman lied? That it took years for you to get over it, and because of what happened you don’t trust women?”

“Well, maybe not that much detail, but yeah. Why?”

“Well. If I’d met a man, slept with him, been untruthful, and found out he’d almost died because of a woman’s lie, I might not come clean either”

Quinn sat in her car unable to move.
Pregnant. Due February 19. Maybe it’ll come on Valentine’s.
There’d been such excitement in the doctor’s voice, Quinn couldn’t help but feel it too.

Turned out, women often bled when the egg attached to the uterus wall and mistook it for their period. Then there was the undying thirst she’d had for weeks. It all made sense once the doctor explained that sometimes thirst was the first symptom. Crazy. She finished her water and ran her hand across her belly.
A baby. My baby. Dak’s baby.
Tears came in torrents and this time there was no doubt why. Joy bubbled in her chest and she couldn’t remember when she’d ever felt so—happy.