Quin explained about the boxes of papers, and the checking information he had found, and the entry with Katie’s name. “I showed her the ledger,” he said. “She didn’t deny it. Didn’t even pretend to be surprised. She said she had kept it a secret, because she knew it would hurt me.”
“I’m lost,” Zach said.
Farrell patted his hand. “Quin and Katie had a hot and heavy affair two years ago. Kept it under wraps. She broke it off. Try to keep up.”
Zach shot him a rude gesture. “I still don’t get it, Quin. If you and Katie were an item, why wouldn’t she borrow the money from you?”
“That’s just it,” Quin said. “The thing we argued about the most was money. She always wanted to prop up various people in her family who—as far as I could tell—were all leeches. But she should have known I would help her if she had only asked.”
Farrell ordered another round of beers. When the waitress nodded and disappeared, he drummed his fingers on the table. “So Katie never actually asked you for the money two years ago?”
“No,” Quin said. “She told me she was going to clean out a chunk of her savings. I told her that would be stupid and naive.”
“You always did have a way with the ladies,” Zach said ruefully.
Farrell was like a dog with a bone. “None of this makes sense. If she was going to use her own money, why would she have gone to Dad, a man she barely knew?”
The pain in Quin’s chest began to radiate throughout his body. Maybe he was having a heart attack. “The irony is I was crazy about her. I would have given her the moon if she had asked. Instead, she didn’t trust me enough to help her. She told me I was selfish. Then she broke up with me and went behind my back to our father.”
This time Zach was the one shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous, Quin. Dad was a rat bastard half the time. I can’t imagine anyone getting money from him, especially not a woman like Katie. He would have chewed her to pieces.”
“Then how do you explain him writing a hundred-thousand-dollar check to my ex-girlfriend? A check she knew about. She said so to my face.”
The silence grew. Three men trying to find the answer to an unsolvable equation.
Suddenly, Farrell cursed. “Sasha...”
Quin and Zach stared at him blankly.
Zach leaned forward. “Gonna need more than that buddy.”
Quin was too torn up to comment.
Farrell banged his fist on the table. “Think how Dad treated Sasha all those years. Belittling her. Chipping away at her confidence. Trying to keep us apart. What if Dad found out about Quin and Katie’s affair somehow and offered her a hundred grand to break up with him? And what if she took the money, not for herself, but because the loser boyfriend needed rehab?”
Quin drained half his beer. “Does that make it any more palatable? She lied to me,” he muttered. His head ached as if a railroad spike was drilling deep.
Zachary, the financial wunderkind who kept SRO in the black, waved a hand, an arrested look on his face. “What if you’re half right, Farrell? What if Dad did exactly what you said? But what if Katie never accepted the money?” He speared Quin with an exasperated glance. “Do you have any proof the check was cashed?”
Quin felt queasy. “No.”
Zach pulled out his phone. “Dad hated online banking, so I kept up with it for him. With probate dragging on, I haven’t closed that account. What month did you say it was?”
“April.” Quin’s lips were numb now.
The three of them fell silent as Zach dug into the past. At last, he shot Quin and Farrell a triumphant grin. “I found it. The check never cleared. The money is still there.”
Quin sucked in a painful breath. “So, Katie...”
Farrell’s sympathetic gaze was almost more than Quin could bear. “Katie was protecting you,” Farrell said.
Zachary nodded. “She didn’t want you to know what a terrible thing your father, our father, had done.”
“But she broke up with me anyway. Why?”
Farrell shrugged. “I suppose you’ll have to ask her that yourself.”
Zach nodded. “If she ever speaks to you again.”
* * *
Katie had been scared during the tropical storm. But Quin had been with her.
Now she was physically safe, but her heart was breaking.
How could he believe she would take money from his father and not tell him?
All she had ever wanted was for Quin to understand what motivated her, but even now, he couldn’t see the truth. She needed him to love her. To trust her. To let her into his heart. Instead, he had immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusion. Katie had thought they were beginning to build something more than a sexual relationship. Quin had gradually let her in to his head and his heart—or so she had thought.
Maybe he was right about her all along. She was too naive and too trusting. Glass half-full. Rosy-colored spectacles. Pollyanna. Pick your cliché.
Quin had been so tender with her, so caring. She had begun to believe, however stupidly, that the two of them might have a chance after all.
For a long time now, she’d thought that money would ultimately keep them apart. Her lack of it and his embarrassingly large surfeit.
In the end, money had turned out to be a peripheral, a tiny bump in the road. The real problem was that Quin didn’t know her at all. And apparently, his tendency to keep his thoughts and feelings under wraps had made her blind to his arrogance and pride.
She could have pulled the covers over her head and wallowed in her misery. But there were people in Portland who had actual life-and-death problems. No place to live. No food. No water.
Katie threw herself into the recovery effort, shoving her own pain and loss into a dark place in her soul. She helped serve hot meals. She read to children at an evacuation shelter. She made sure her family and friends were okay. And when Farrell called two days after their return from northern Maine, Katie met her boss at the office to help him and a team of tech geeks get the phone lines and internet up and running again.
She had braced for an encounter with Quin, but he was nowhere in sight. Probably on a plane over the Atlantic looking for a high, snowcapped mountain in Europe where he could risk life and limb. Again.
During the daylight hours she kept herself so busy she could barely think about Quin. But at night, in bed, her heart ached so badly she wanted to run far away from Portland. From any reminder of what she had found and lost. Love. At least on her side.
Sleeping alone after being with Quin night after night was so lonely and so terrifyingly empty, she cried until there were no more tears. Curled up with her pillow and her heartbreak, she pondered her future bleakly.
How could she stay at Stone River Outdoors?
* * *
Quin had faced many tight races in his life, but none as critical as the one to win Katie’s forgiveness. He’d done some painful soul-searching. What he realized was that there was precious little chance she would forgive him. Even so, he had to make his apology. And he had to make her understand that none of this was her fault.
He’d been the ass. The betrayer. The recklessly bad judge of character and motive. Even now, when he thought about that terrible morning just before his brothers showed up, his stomach tightened with nausea. Remembering Katie’s face... God, she had looked as if he had struck her.
Now here he stood, ten days later, on Katie’s front porch. Farrell had assured him she was home.
Quin had brought neither candy nor flowers nor even jewelry. Katie Duncan would not be swayed by empty gestures.
If he had come here too soon, there would have been no opportunity for him to cope with what he was feeling. To understand what he wanted. To make a plan for the future. So he had bided his time, examined his black heart and finally understood.
The impor
tant thing here was to make sure Katie heard his apology and recognized that it was true and sincere.
She deserved that much at least.
When he rang the doorbell, his hand was shaking.
He honestly hadn’t expected her to answer. The door had a peephole. She had to know it was him.
But the door swung inward, and there she was.
Her gaze swept him from head to toe. “You look terrible,” she said. No inflection at all in her voice.
“You don’t, Kat. You look gorgeous.”
It was true. Her casual shorts and Caribbean-print halter top framed her beauty in a whimsical summer theme. She was barefoot, blond hair loose and tousled.
When the nickname slipped out, she flinched. “Why are you here, Quin? Farrell said you arranged to have my car returned. I asked him to thank you.”
“He did.” Still she made no move to let him in to her home. “Katie...” His throat tightened. “I know there’s no excuse for what I did, but you have to know how sorry I am.”
She was stone-faced. “What exactly did you do Quin? Other than accuse the woman you were sleeping with of being a cheat and a liar and a user?”
When her voice broke on the last word, it was like a knife to his heart. “I won’t rationalize my behavior. It was indefensible. But when you stood there so calmly and said you knew about the check, I went a little crazy.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I brought you this,” he said desperately, holding out his hand.
She stared at the manila envelope. “Is it an arrest warrant?”
Her sarcasm was no more than he deserved. “Open the envelope. It’s for you.”
She looked at her neighbor’s house where interested eyes were watching. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Come in. But don’t get comfortable.”
Quin eased past her and staked out a spot near the doorway to the kitchen. He shoved his hands in his pockets.
Katie sank into a chair and opened the envelope, extracting the contents slowly. After a few moments, she looked up at him with a frown. “What is this?”
He inhaled sharply, feeling like a fool. “I bought you a piano. It’s being delivered tomorrow. The phone numbers are for two women here in Portland who give lessons to adults.”
* * *
Katie shook her head slowly. Having Quin here in her house was painful and unsettling. Day after day she had worked to forget him. It was a stupid game she played. The aggravating man was imprinted on every cell in her body.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
His blue-eyed gaze seemed haunted, almost as badly bereft as the broken man she had met in northern Maine, the man who had lost everything that mattered to him.
Quin shrugged. “It’s part of my apology. I don’t know why you left me two years ago, and I know I’ve screwed things up royally this time. I love you, Katie. That’s all.”
The blood rushed to her head. “You love me?”
“I should have told you sooner, but I was waiting until after the storm. I wanted to take you to the Riviera or the Caribbean and propose with some big romantic gesture.”
“Propose?” Her voice squeaked.
“Then I realized you don’t like all the fuss. But before I could come up with plan B, everything went to hell, and it was too late.”
She shuddered. “You were so angry, Quin. At me. You can’t imagine how that made me feel.”
He bowed his head, his posture dejected. “I know. I saw your face.” He squared his shoulders. “I think I was afraid,” he said simply, his gaze begging her to understand.
She frowned. “Afraid? Quinten Stone is not afraid of anything.”
“Not true.” He shrugged. “You left me two years ago with no real explanation. When I saw that check my father wrote, I was afraid you didn’t trust me to take care of you. That you thought I was so selfish and shallow I wouldn’t do everything in my power to help you.”
“I don’t understand why you’re here now,” she said softly. Faint sparkles of hope tried to ignite in her heart, but he had hurt her so badly. “What about your other mistress? What about skiing?”
His head came up. Now his eyes were clear. “I’ve made my peace with it, Kat. No more competing. That’s in my past. I’ve talked to some people about opening a ski school next winter. Nurturing new talent. But whatever happens, skiing is never again going to come between me and the people I love.”
“I see,” she said softly, her brain spinning, trying to wrap her head around what he was saying.
Finally, Quin moved closer. Determination carved his features in sharp angles. “I’ll say it again, because you probably don’t believe me. I love you, Katie Duncan.” He didn’t wait for her to respond. “So I tried to think of a way to make you understand how sorry I am for what happened. I remembered that day at the museum. And the Renoir, Two Young Girls at the Piano. And I remembered how you let me in to your bed that night.” He paused and swallowed, the muscles working in his throat. “I would never ski another minute in my life if I could have you back.”
She laid the envelope aside. “Do you know why I broke up with you two years ago?”
He winced. “I’m guessing my father made you feel like shit. Chased you away. Told you believable lies.”
“No.” She stood and went to him, face-to-face, toe-to-toe. “Your father had nothing to do with it. I had already decided to go before he spoke to me.”
Quin paled. “So it was my fault all along. Something I did. Not my father.”
Katie put her hand on his cheek, shaking her head. “You didn’t do anything. That was the problem. I wanted you to be someone you weren’t. I wanted a man who was open and self-aware. The problem was, I didn’t know how to ask for what I wanted, and the future seemed hopeless.”
“So you gave up on us.” The words could have been heated, but his voice was low and steady.
She shrugged helplessly. “We had nothing in common, Quin. Recently, I decided we were in a better place now, but the fact that you believed I would take a large sum of money from your father and not tell you makes me wonder. How could it possibly work?”
He captured her hand with his, pressing her fingertips to his stubbly jaw. His skin was warm. “That’s where you’re wrong, Kat. We have everything in common. Every beat of your heart is mine. When you breathe, I breathe. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.” He stopped. Released her. Stepped back, as if he couldn’t bear to touch her. “Do you love me, Kat?”
She was breaking apart inside, tumbled about by every lie she had told herself. “Yes.” Tears she couldn’t hold at bay spilled over. She hated feeling so emotional.
But Quin’s gaze was suspiciously wet, as well. “Then I’ll take that for now. Until you’re sure. You’ll see, my love. You’re everything I need. And if you’ll forgive me for my monumental stupidity and cruelty, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that we fit together well. As perfectly as two fragments of leaded glass in a Tiffany masterpiece. No one else will do for me, Kat. It’s that simple. If you won’t have me, I’ll be a lonely bachelor.”
Joy burst through the long hours and days of grief. “Don’t overplay your hand.” She threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck, absorbing his strength and heat. “I do adore you,” she whispered. “Say it again.”
He found her lips with his, kissed her slow and deep, reduced her to mush. “I love you, my dearest Kat,” he said, his words unsteady. “And just so you know, I’m going to buy you the biggest, gaudiest diamond I can find and make you wear it every day so the whole world will know you’re my woman.”
She rested her cheek against his firm, broad chest, inhaling the scent of him, soaking in the happiness that was almost too much to bear. “I think I can live with that, Quentin Stone. Now, if you aren’t in too much of a hurry, I’d like to show you my new bed
. The headboard is rated for restless sleepers.”
He chuckled, his eyes bright. “Sounds like a challenge to me...”
* * *
Widower Farrell Stone is content with his life—even if he’ll never let himself love a woman again.
But then in walks his new housekeeper, Ivy Danby. Will he keep his feelings locked away?
Find out in the next book in the
Men of Stone River trilogy,
Upstairs Downstairs Temptation
Available June 2020!
Keep reading for an excerpt from Secrets of a Fake Fiancée by Yahrah St. John.
WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS BOOK FROM
Luxury, scandal, desire—welcome to the lives of the American elite.
Be transported to the worlds of oil barons, family dynasties, moguls and celebrities. Get ready for juicy plot twists, delicious sensuality and intriguing scandal.
6 NEW BOOKS AVAILABLE EVERY MONTH!
Secrets of a Fake Fiancée
by Yahrah St. John
One
Morgan Young couldn’t imagine a more perfect place for a wedding than this La Jolla beach on a spring evening. She was touched by the heartfelt vows her boss, Dane Stewart, had just shared with his new wife, Iris. The couple had pledged their undying devotion with their son, Jayden, standing by his father’s side. The wedding was an especially happy occasion, considering Jayden was battling a rare form of acute lymphocytic leukemia, and finding the father he’d never met had provided him with the life-saving treatment he needed. Jayden had needed a bone marrow transplant and Dane’s stem cells had been just what the doctor ordered. Morgan had played an instrumental part in bringing the boys’ parents together.
Dane, however, had no idea of Morgan’s true identity.
She was his baby sister.
After Hours Seduction (The Men 0f Stone River Book 1) Page 16
