Climax being a small town, the drive to Delaney’s was short. She kept glancing over at Quinn, who was mumbling under his breath, trying to come up with something romantic. She laughed, watching him, as they pulled into the driveway.
“Dammit.”
“That’s what I thought. Not a romantic bone in your body, is there?” Delaney chuckled until she saw that Quinn was staring at the house, his jaw clenched tight. Turning toward the house lit up by the truck headlights, she saw the broken front picture window. Spray-painted in bright red, in three-foot-tall letters on either side of the broken window, were the words leave now.
21
“Well, heck. I guess I did piss someone off.”
“Stay here while I check it out.” Quinn leaned across her, grabbing a flashlight out of the glove compartment.
Delaney watched him cut across the headlight beams to check out around the front porch. Huh, just when she thought Quinn was being paranoid, this. She rolled down her window to get a clearer look. Seeing the jagged edges of the window, Delaney started shaking just imagining the sound of the breaking glass. The same sound that echoed in her nightmares.
“You might want to call Greer.”
She started since she hadn’t noticed Quinn standing next to her window. “What are you, a ninja? Look, I’ve already stacked the ‘reasons to worry about Delaney’ list high enough already. Letting her have another twelve hours until I have to add more to the pile won’t hurt.”
“Are you trying to protect Greer again?” He rested his hand on the window opening. “Want to guess where Jack works?”
“No. Oh, tell me he’s not a—” Delaney’s voice was cut off by her ringing phone. Sure enough, it was Greer calling. “Cop.” She answered Greer’s call just as the police siren started wailing onto the driveway.
Quinn walked away to talk to the cops on duty.
Delaney spent ten minutes on the phone trying to appease her worried sister while Quinn and his fellow cops split up, some gathering evidence on the front porch, others heading inside the house. Greer finally calmed down and ended the call after Delaney reminded her she would be safe at Quinn’s place.
She leaned back against the truck seat and watched the organized chaos of a crime scene. Crime scene? It could just be teenagers, right?
No. Once might be teenagers, but four times? She passed the time by going through all the conversations she’d had since she’d been back. Okay, she could see there might be a few people upset with her, but enough to break a window and spray graffiti on the house? And if it wasn’t anger, what else could it be? Fear? She didn’t have any deep dark secrets to reveal. Love? It would be a sick, twisted love then, wouldn’t it, and she hadn’t seen any lovesick fool around, other than Quinn. Jealousy?
Barbara! The bitch. But no. Barbara was upfront about her feelings for Delaney. As much as she’d like to pin this on her, that theory didn’t make sense.
Maybe she’d been looking at it the wrong way. She wasn’t necessarily the problem. What if this was about Quinn? He certainly hadn’t been shy about his interest in her. Lord knew, Yvette was a victim of his charm. No telling how many other women were wandering around town unable to get his attention and pissed off she had.
Quinn finally climbed back behind the wheel of the truck, leaving the cops on duty to finish up. He tossed a bag onto the seat next to her. “I grabbed you a few things. Toothbrush, toothpaste, some face-looking stuff, something that looked like wound cream. Clean sweats and underthings. I didn’t see any birth control pills. Should I go back to look again?”
“You are so nosy. The answer to your question, Officer Cates, is the lady isn’t on birth control. You just had to paw through my underwear drawer again, didn’t you?”
“I’m an optimistic guy, and I was hoping to find a thong or two in it this time. Hey, a guy can dream, can’t he?” He headed the truck toward his house, glancing often at Delaney.
“What did you find inside?”
“Someone entered through the front door and ransacked the front room. A little more graffiti on the walls in there, you know, telling you to leave.”
Delaney turned her head to look closely at Quinn. “They used my name? Not Greer’s?”
“Yeah, they did. Was there any doubt?” Quinn looked dubiously at Delaney.
“Hey, I have plenty of doubt. I doubt this is even about me and who I pissed off. I’ve been thinking and I think this is about you and some jealous ex-girlfriend.” Delaney saw him start to deny it and cut him off. “Oh, please. Just tonight, Yvette would have happily smothered me in my meat loaf for a word from you.”
“It’s a theory, except she was working tonight, remember?”
“Oh, I remember. But I also remember she clocked out before we left. How long does it take to throw something through a window and spray some graffiti? And that’s just one of your girlfriends. I cannot begin to count the number of women who display their cleavage for you at the gym on a regular basis.”
“She was never my girlfriend. And what cleavage?” Quinn frowned at her. “I’ve missed cleavage displays? Maybe I do need Viagra.”
“You honestly haven’t noticed?” Delaney asked.
Quinn pulled the truck in front of his house and shut off the engine. He sat for a minute in silence, then turned his head toward Delaney and looked at her. “I see you, Delaney. Only you. I’m Adam to your Eve.”
“Wha . . . what?” Delaney stared at him without blinking. She shook her head and reminded herself not to fall for his charm, stomping down those tingly feelings. “I don’t get it. We’re talking gorgeous, willing women. Who probably wear thongs. Why me?”
“I’m the Mickey to your Minnie. The Fred to your Wilma. Sadly, I’m Lucy to your Schroeder.”
“Oh.” She glanced away and fiddled with the latch to the glove compartment. “I always thought Barney and Betty had a better relationship.”
“You think so? I always thought Barney let Betty walk all over him. Fred and Wilma were equals.” He grabbed Delaney’s bag of clothes. “Let’s go, little girl. It’s been a long day. Dr. Quinn prescribes sleep. Lots of sleep. We’ve got that lunch thing tomorrow, and if I know Greer, she’ll be up early, anxious to grill us for all the dirty details.”
Quinn unlocked the front door of his ranch-style house, stepped in, and flipped on the foyer light. A light patter of paws headed toward them quickly from the back of the house. “Are you okay with dogs?”
“Sure. If they’re okay with me, I’m okay with them.” Delaney took a step back when something resembling a dog skidded into the foyer. “Oh, whoa.”
The dog, about knee high, was dancing excitedly in a circle around Quinn, like a four-legged off-Broadway act tap-tap-tapping on the slate tile. Slightly snaggle-toothed so it looked like he was leering, with ears sticking straight out. He was ugly with a capital U.
“You really do have a dog and not a snoring problem.” Delaney bent down to the dog. “Come here, you. Aren’t you . . . something.”
“You’re as honest as Greer said you were,” Quinn said. “You can’t even lie to my dog.”
Delaney watched as the dog, still tapping out his little happy dance, finally stopped, plopped down on his butt, and snorted. He gazed up at Quinn with big, devoted puppy eyes. “He can’t help it if he’s u-g-l-y, and I don’t want to be the one to break it to him. Besides, look at his face. That’s pure love right there and that’s beautiful.”
“Delaney, meet my dog Snot. Snot, this is Delaney.” Quinn responded to Delaney’s raised eyebrow, “Hey, I didn’t name him. I made the mistake of letting my five-year-old godchild Henry Lee name him.”
“Henry Lee?” Delaney looked up surprised. “I met him. Cute kid.”
“Cute kid with a problem. He keeps coming home from school bruised.” Quinn shook his head. “His dad and I can’t get the bully’s name out of him.”
“Boogerbutt Brian Ralph. Fourth grade.”
“What are you, the child whisperer? We’ve b
een trying to get that information out of him for weeks.”
Delaney shrugged and returned her attention to the dog. “Your godchild is as charming as your dog.”
“Well, I haven’t trained Henry Lee to fetch my golf balls back yet, but watch this. Snot, be a gentleman,” Quinn commanded.
Snot lowered his front end, tucking one front paw under his body and ducked his head until his nose touched the floor. Then he quickly sat back on his haunches and lifted his right front paw to shake.
“Snot, you might be u-g-l-y, but you’re smart.” Delaney bent down to greet Snot, letting him sniff her hand before scratching him behind his ears. “You’re like the Bill Gates of the dog world.”
“Uh, I wouldn’t go that far.” He led Delaney back into the kitchen. “Snot, let’s go, buddy. Outside.” Snot got so excited his feet started moving, but he slipped and slid, running in place until he finally got traction. Quinn steered him out the back door in the kitchen.
“Hey.” Quinn watched to make sure Snot did his business in the backyard. “I’m not discounting your theory of some crazy woman being jealous. I’m going to call the cop shop and have them start looking into that angle, too.”
“Fair enough.” Delaney nodded, her attention snared by the dog running to the kitchen door with such excitement he was unable to stop. He skidded into the glass storm door face first with a thunk. Seemingly unaffected, he looked up at Quinn.
“You win some. You lose some, huh, Snot?” Quinn opened the door letting him in. The dog ran in place, then took off, running right through the kitchen and back into the foyer. He finally stopped when he hit the front door. “Not quite Bill Gates.”
He returned with a skid into the kitchen. “’Atta boy, Snot.”
Quinn grabbed two bottles of water out of the refrigerator, handing one to Delaney. Delaney’s heart started racing when he said, “Let’s go to bed.” He turned and led the way down the hall to the bedrooms.
“In case you don’t remember, here’s your room. The bathroom is attached. I’m at the end of the hall if you need me.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. Handing over her overnight bag of clothes and toiletries, he gave her a gentle push into the room. “Good night, Laney.”
Delaney turned to say good night, but found herself looking at the closed bedroom door. Huh. So much for Mickey and Minnie, although she couldn’t picture Mickey and Minnie in bed together burning up the sheets anyway. Gah! Quinn was driving her crazy, but, what the heck, it was a short drive, wasn’t it? She’d been going slowly crazy for the last nine months. Shut it down, Delaney. Shut this day away like all the other days since the explosion. Shove it deep. Shower and sleep.
She dumped the bag Quinn had packed out onto the bed, snorting when she saw her Feel Safe at Night. Sleep with an Army Nurse tank top on top. Quinn was so predictable. Except when he wasn’t and he was closing doors in her face just when she was thinking about—No. Not going there. Grabbing what she needed, she limped into the bathroom to wash the day away.
* * *
It was the blood-curdling scream that woke Quinn a few hours later. It took him a second to realize Delaney must be having her nightmare. He was already jumping over a shaking Snot and opening her door when a second scream clogged in her throat. He hoped he got to her in time.
22
“So much blood . . . so much . . .” Delaney struggled amid her tangled sheets in the darkened room. “Help! Oh God, can’t move. . . . My fault. All my fault . . .”
“Delaney, wake up. Laney. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” Her terror-filled scream wrenched deep in Quinn’s chest. With shaking hands, he quickly unwound the sheets from her struggling body.
“I can’t breathe.”
“You can. Delaney, look at me.” He touched her face, trying to get her to wake up. When she kept struggling and crying, he pinched her on her arm. Hard.
“Ow!” Delaney sat up blinking with confusion at him. Rubbing her arm, she narrowed her eyes in accusation. “What the hell was that for?”
“You were having a nightmare and I couldn’t get you awake.” He tried to rub her arm, but she batted his hand away. Then she reached out and pinched his forearm. Hard.
“Ow! What was that? Payback?” Quinn leaned over and switched on the bedside lamp. He sat on the side of Delaney’s bed in a pair of boxer briefs. In the soft white glow of light, he noted the wild look still in her eyes. Reaching out, he stroked her neck. Her pulse beat too rapidly under his fingertips.
“I wanted to make sure I was awake. I’ve had some weird dreams lately and I needed to be sure.” She shivered as Quinn rubbed her shoulders.
“You didn’t have to pinch me.” It was so wrong of him to notice the tank top and bikini panties he’d grabbed for her were as hot as he’d imagined. Bad cop. He refocused and soothed his hands down her bare arms, trying to ease the last look of fear from her face. Good cop. “You could have kissed me. Nah, that wouldn’t have worked. Then I would’ve thought I was dreaming. And I would have had to pinch you again.”
“You dream about kissing me?” Delaney leaned back on her pillow again, putting space between them.
“Kissing. Touching. Licking. Delaney, I’ve already made love to you hundreds of times. It started in high school. I mean, I couldn’t ever get you out of my head, so I just decided to put that time to good use.”
“You are unbelievable.”
“I can’t even count the number of times you’ve wrapped those gorgeous runner’s legs around my waist. And the things I’ve done to your breasts . . . but it wasn’t just physical. In high school, the dream always started with the kiss you planted on me in front of the gym.”
“I told you why I did that.” Delaney poked his arm, and he grabbed her finger, pulling her hand into his.
“I don’t care why, I’m just glad you did. In the dream, you kissed me, and it felt like when I scored the winning touchdown in the homecoming game. We stared into each other’s eyes. Hey now, don’t laugh. This was my high school dream, remember. I looked into your beautiful eyes—”
She rolled those “beautiful” eyes. “Give me a break. They’re brown. Like mud.”
Quinn shook his head. “Not even close. They’re golden honey with streaks of yellow circling your pupil like an exotic flower. I’m pretty sure you hypnotized me in high school.”
“Gaze deeply into my eyes.”
“Mock all you want.” He leaned over her, supporting himself with one hand next to her pillow. He was way inside her bubble, but she was too busy trying to catch her breath to complain. He stared into her eyes and used his free hand to trace his finger over one eyebrow, down the delicate bridge of her nose, and ever so softly along the outline of her lips. By the time he stopped moving his finger over the softness of her bottom lip, they were both breathing roughly.
Quinn lowered himself until he could feel her softness pressed up against his hardness. Her breasts brushed against his bare chest and he clenched his muscles tight, trying to maintain control. He rolled back, taking her with him until they lay side by side, heartbeat to heartbeat. He ran his hand down her throat and along her collarbone. His gaze followed the movement as he stroked his hand along her body. Brushing softly over her breast and hardening nipple, he ran his palm down her rib cage to her narrow waist as he looked back into her face. He watched her lips part to release a sigh as he caressed her hipbone, then moved his hand over her ass and down the back of her thigh. He lifted her thigh so her leg wrapped around his hips, bringing them tight together.
In that moment, Delaney’s body froze in his arms. Her harsh breath wheezed past his ear as she rolled back, creating a Grand Canyon–sized gap with just a few inches of air between them.
“Not to shatter your dreams or anything, but I’ve changed since high school,” Delaney said in a too-calm voice. “Maybe you’ve noticed.”
Quinn shook his head. “Didn’t have a clue. Until four days ago. But I have news for you. It doesn’t shatter my dreams. I’m pisse
d that it happened to you and I hate the pain you’re in. I’m amazed at your strength, but I always have been.” He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “I still dream of you, Laney.”
For a second, Delaney couldn’t catch her breath. “You can’t. I mean, look at me. No, don’t really, you idiot. I’m a mess. And as ugly as my leg is, I have other scars. You can’t dream of me.”
“I do. I only found out about your amputation a few days ago. There hasn’t been much time. I mean, it was a lot to wrap my head around . . . but I admit I’ve thought about it over the last few days. I’ve made love to you two or three times. Mentally, mind you. The first time, you kept your prosthesis on, but you felt awkward with it on, so the other times we left it off.
“It was awkward for both of us the first time. You were self-conscious. You felt ‘less than,’ you know? Like a woman who loses her breast to cancer. I get that. There’s a lot of pressure on women to meet the holy triumvirate.”
“The holy triumvirate?”
“Uh, mmm.” Quinn trailed his hand down along her thigh. Her skin was soft. Her muscles firm yet sleek. He could feel the small ridges of scar tissue. Like Braille, they told a story—of strength and resilience. “You know, breasts, legs, ass? The universal magic ratio between hips and waist that makes men want to procreate.”
“You want to procreate?” Delaney’s voice squeaked.
Quinn heard the panic in her voice and decided to pull back. Judicious retreat was often a smart part of a victorious battle plan. “Well, I’m really interested in practicing about a couple thousand times. It was awkward for me too. I was afraid of doing the wrong thing. If I looked at or touched your amputation, would that make you more self-conscious or take your mind out of the game? If I didn’t look at it, would you think I was only in it for the sex and not sensitive to how you feel without your foot?” He stroked his hand up the front of her thigh.
Still Crushing on His Best Friend’s Older Sister: Cates Brothers # 2 Page 13
