When Empires Fall (44 page)

“What is your business here, Wyatt?” she asked him, ignoring his statement. Clearly he had read the tabloid. Big surprise, everyone had.

“I wanted to show my support for your family, sweetheart. And for you,” he said the words slowly, his eyes betraying nothing as he watched her, drinking in every movement she made, unable to help himself.

“That’s just lovely, darling, but we don’t need your support.” She smiled, the edges of it sharp with poison. Despite it, he still knew he would have to have a taste of it before the evening was done.

“You always were so strong on your own two feet.” He fought to keep the nostalgia from his voice, the longing he knew he could not deny that existed in the darkest corners of his very being. For her. Always for her. “But who’s going to reach for you when you fall?”

The amber in her eyes hardened violently, her expression stiffening with insult and derision. She tilted her chin up ever so slightly, portraying the disdain that years of suffering without him had given her.

“I won’t fall,” she said coolly, turning away from him then as a waiter arrived to deliver the first course.

She missed the grin that came over his face and its contrast with the subtle flash in his eyes of a reopened wound alive with agony.

“So you’re a
boat builder?” Quinn asked, her eyes lit up with interest as she rested her chin in her hand and leaned forward over the table, intent on Wyatt. They had just finished with the dinner courses and dessert was on its way, giving her time to grill him for information. Not that he wasn’t genuinely interesting, a fact that amused her, seeing as how both Grant and Madison were doing their best to avoid speaking to him. Just what it was that they didn’t like about Wyatt she didn’t know, but Linc and Lynette were having a good time, so he couldn’t be all bad. And hey, she was never one to shy away from meeting new people and having a good conversation.

“Yachts, mostly,” Wyatt told her, chuckling as he sipped his beer. “My old man built fishing boats back in the ‘70s and ‘80s. Guess I just thought I’d continue the family tradition.”

“That’s fascinating.” Quinn smiled brightly, enjoying herself. “What’s it like in Maine? I’ve always wanted to vacation there but Ma always insisted on getting as far away from Utica as possible, which usually meant the Grand Canyon or something boring. But Maine…Oh! Do you eat lobster all the time? I bet the seafood is to
die
for.”

He laughed again, admiring her. “It’s the best damn seafood in the country. You’ll have to come up some time to visit. I’ll take you sailing.”

“I have
always
wanted to go sailing!” She sat up and clapped her hands together excitedly, glancing over at Grant with a smile. He only looked at her with raised eyebrows, his mouth subtly curving at the delight on her face.

“You? Sailing?” Grant mused, the image of her tripping over a rope or something on a boat flashing in his mind. But when she arched one dark eyebrow at him and smirked playfully, he could almost see the ocean wind whipping her dark hair back from her face and hear her laughter mixing with the roar of the sea. His smile faded slowly as he held her eyes, then disappeared completely as he turned away.

“I’m sure she’d make a fine sailor, Grant.” Wyatt grinned, leaning casually back in his chair, one arm snaking its way around the back of Madison’s, his hand lightly caressing her opposite shoulder. To her credit, she didn’t flinch, but he did sense her rage, deeply hidden within the confines of her excellent self control. Getting under her skin had always been one of his favorite pastimes.

Ever the actor, he kicked up the sociable side of his nature and turned to Lynette, who he had carefully watched throughout dinner. She was quieter than Grant’s gypsy eyed secretary, subtler in a way that suggested good breeding and likely conservative manners. And, loving all women as he did, he wasn’t about to let her squeeze by without giving him some insight into what made her tick.

“So tell me where you found the lovely redhead, Linc, so I can get myself one.”

Laughing, Linc wrapped an arm over Lynette’s shoulders and pulled her close, kissing her forehead with relish. “Hands off, Bailey, she’s mine.”

“For now.” Wyatt grinned, winking once at Lynette. She merely eyed him with a cool, refined stare before addressing his question.

“My parents are regular guests at the Vasser Hotel. One day I went to visit them and Linc swooped in like a bird of prey and I haven’t been able to shake him since.” Lynette told him with a dry smile, earning a hoot of laughter from Wyatt and an appreciative one from Quinn.

“Who would want to shake off handsome here?” Quinn asked.

Linc immediately turned to her. “You did.”

“Oh.” Quinn blushed, having forgotten the first time she had met Linc. Embarrassed, but determined to roll with it, she let out a light laugh. “I must have skipped my coffee that morning or something.”

She felt Grant stiffen beside her and knew he was revisiting his old worries of her liking Linc better than him. Not wanting him to dwell on it, she poked him in the arm just as the band changed over from classical to a romantic song originally by the Righteous Brothers.

“C’mon, let’s go dance.” She smiled, amused by the dark look he sent her.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. You owe me for coming here anyway.” She rose to her feet and pulled at his arm.

With a well-rehearsed grimace, he stood up and stared down at her, fighting to keep the humor from his expression. “If you think I’m any good at this, you’re in for a big surprise.”

“Good. Because I suck at it too.” She winked and dragged him towards the dance floor, which was already populated with a few couples swaying back and forth. Immediately she positioned herself in typical waltz pose, one hand on his shoulder and the other in his hand. Because she was as clueless about fancy footwork as he, they stayed relatively stationary and instead swayed in a tight circle. His gaze shifted around constantly, taking in the crowd of people who were now watching with vague interest.

Great, if he stumbled over his own two feet now it would be all over the papers. Even now he noticed a few reporters taking snap shots of him with Quinn, undoubtedly preparing to comment on his choice of date and rumors over her importance in his life.

Unlike his brother, he was hardly ever in the papers except if it involved the hotel as a business. But his personal life was largely a secret to the public and he preferred to keep it that way. But with the scandal that was about to become public fact and record, there was little he could do to keep himself, or Quinn, free from wagging tongues and vile rumors.

“Why don’t you like Wyatt?” she asked suddenly, interrupting his thoughts. He turned his gaze to her, brows furrowed.

“Does it matter?” he asked, a bit irked that she would even bring it up. Though he supposed she was just naturally curious.

“I can tell you don’t trust him.”

“No, I don’t trust him.”

She nodded, considering the unusual spitting heat that tinged his words. “He’s a man of many secrets, many faces, many lines. I get the impression that he had at one point held the family’s confidence and then abused it. What did he do?”

Grant was silent for a moment, wondering just how much he could tell her. He wanted to tell himself that it was none of her business and that she had no right to know the truth. But then again, if he didn’t explain to her just what kind of man Wyatt Bailey was then she may fall victim to his traps just as the rest of his family had.

Resigned to finding some kind of happy medium, he told her as much as he felt comfortable with.

“About eight years ago, Madison spent a year working with our cousin Duke at the Vasser Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. Wyatt was a dealer there and they began seeing each other. About a year later, he broke it off and left the city. Up until a few weeks ago, she hadn’t seen him since that time. I hadn’t either.”

“He was the one who sent flowers to her office, the ones that she threw on the floor?” Quinn asked, connecting the dots now.

Grant nodded, staring off over her shoulder as the memory of his sister’s display of violence played over in his mind. Wyatt had been the only man to ever purchase that particular type of flower for her.

“And then he had the gall to walk into her office unannounced, and then to show up here…” Quinn murmured, shaking her head. “I can’t believe she’s taking this so well, so calmly. I would have thrown him out on his ear by now.”

“She’s hurting, but she won’t show it. She won’t give him the satisfaction.” Grant let out a slow, uneasy breath, truly sorry for her. Meeting Quinn’s eyes again, he tried to smile, to comfort her. “She can take care of herself. You don’t need to worry about her.”

“So how come Linc likes him so much?” she asked, brows knit together, her hazel eyes troubled.

“As far as I know, Wyatt and Linc have stayed in touch over the years. I think he chose to believe whatever story Wyatt came up with about why he had ended the relationship as opposed to taking Madison’s side. My father is also good friends with Wyatt, so apparently there’s something about him that’s of merit. Though I can’t say I have ever seen it.” He added with a scowl, annoyed even at the thought.

“Thank you for telling me. I know it’s none of my business.”

“You’re welcome.” He held her eyes, his own softening as he instinctively pulled her closer. “Are you enjoying yourself tonight? I’d hate to think I made you suffer.”

With a languid smile, she tilted her face up to his. “Suffering for you has become my new hobby.”

“As it appears dancing for you has become mine,” he murmured, his eyes trailing down to her lips. She noticed him staring and felt her blood heat instinctively.

“If you were to kiss me now, here, in front of all those reporters, what would the headlines say?” Quinn asked, biting her bottom lip to stem back a giddy laugh. His hand that held hers gripped tighter, more possessively, and she felt her breath catch in her throat at the look in his eyes.

“Again, does it matter?”

She shook her head, unsure how to react to the heat in his eyes. The passion. Again he had gone from cold and illusive to powerful and direct, and her heart thudded inside her chest from both nerves and need.

“Can we slip away?” she asked breathlessly, gripping the lapel of his suit jacket tightly in her hand, her hazel eyes bright but still uncertain.

He shut his eyes, resting his forehead against hers for a brief moment, indulging himself.

“I wish we could, Quinn.” Pulling away, the intensity in his expression slowly faded, replaced by his dignity and sense of duty. She lamented the loss, but understood even as he fought for some way to explain it to her. “If things weren’t so complicated…”

“I understand,” she assured him, attempting a smile even as she fought to cool her own crushing emotions. “Duty and family first is a motto we both share.”

He nodded, fighting to regain his composure as they continued to sway together. Having her there in his arms distracted him from the worst of what was to come. As she changed the subject and rambled on about dinner and the decorations and remembering to bring Barry some cheesecake, he breathed a sigh of relief and lost himself in her.

“You never told
me you flirted with Quinn,” Lynette mused as Linc led her expertly through the waltz on the dance floor, her eyebrows lifted curiously.