We’re already like an old married couple, she thought as she poured some coffee and wandered out to the pool. She loved Reif’s house. Perhaps being a prisoner here for a month or two, as Tony had intended, wouldn’t have been such a hardship.
The pool was enclosed by fencing and a concrete wall at the back, but it was filled with flowering vines twining up the lattice and big pots holding trees. There were two tables with chairs out here and the barbecue grill, a few pool accessories and floats. Even surrounded by his neighbors, there was an air of privacy in the enclosure.
She sipped her coffee, enjoying the coolness of the morning, savoring the lack of humidity in the air, the climate so different from that of south Florida. It had been one hell of a weekend, she had to admit. Had it only been forty-eight hours since she’d woke up in bed making love to Reif? It seemed a lifetime since then, but she’d enjoyed every minute of it.
She could easily see why Tony thought so highly of Reif. He was honorable, for one thing, if a bit old-fashioned. She didn’t think she’d ever forget the regret he’d shown regarding what had happened between them. He’d taken all the blame, even though most, if not all of it, belonged with her.
Fantasy Man, she thought once again, smiling. Heat swept through her body at the memory of touching Reif, loving him. Fucking him. Might as well call it what it was. He hadn’t known who she was. He’d been more out of it than she, more or less sleepwalking, doing what came naturally.
She’d meant it when she’d told him she couldn’t wait to experience him when he was completely focused, wide awake and not under the influence. She could only imagine all that energy and intensity directed at her. A tiny sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan worked its way to her vocal chords. She clenched her thighs together and took another sip of coffee.
She needed a distraction, that was for sure. Reif had kept her busy over the weekend. The sailing trip had been a blast. She wished he’d stop being so concerned for her safety. She’d been locked up in a safe house with two cops before and she hadn’t been safe.
They were good cops, too. Something had alerted them just before the door had burst open. Quinn found herself flattened on the floor with one of them literally on top of her. There’d been an exchange of gunfire before she was hustled into the bathroom and forced into the tub.
The cop assigned to protect her, Colin Howe, locked the door, shoved another clip into his gun and made sure back-up was on the way.
“Is Wes all right?” she asked. Wesley Manning was the other cop assigned to her. His arm had been covered in blood when Colin had hustled her past him and the two dead guys.
“Flesh wound,” Colin said. “He’ll be fine.”
Within minutes the place was swarming with cops. Her father arrived, relief washing over him when he saw her peeking over the side of the tub.
“Bambina.” He helped her up and held her close, rocking her as if she were a child.
“I’m fine, Daddy,” she said into his shirt, the words muffled because he was holding her so tight.
“We must find another place for you. A safer place.”
Quinn knew better than to argue, but she wasn’t sure there was a safe place. It was hard to imagine the mob exerting so much effort just to find her. She thought that only happened in TV shows. Organized crime had infiltrated Coral Bay so quickly the local cops hadn’t been prepared. And once the FBI got involved, there’d been the inevitable pissing contests over jurisdiction. But when it came to her safety, no one argued with her father.
He and Tony had a powwow that night and the next thing she knew she was on a plane to LA. Alone. Once she’d arrived at Reif’s empty house she’d sent a text with the all clear code to Tony on the burner phone he had given her. The phone she was supposed to give to Reif.
Because of Tony’s bizarre situation with Carbonis, contact had to be minimal, preferably non-existent, unless it was absolutely necessary, such as if her safety had been compromised again or her presence was required in Coral Bay to testify.
She’d been around law enforcement types all her life. She’d always felt safe before, if a bit suffocated. Now she was a target and she didn’t like it one bit.
LA, however, was a big anonymous place. It seemed as good as any in which to disappear. She’d keep a low profile, but for the first time in her life she was also free of her father and brother and their brand of protection. She planned to enjoy every moment of it.
During Reif’s guided tour of the neighborhood she’d noticed a women’s health clinic fairly close by. First on her agenda today was to call for an appointment and get a prescription for birth control pills. Nothing wrong with planning ahead.
Reif might think their first time together would be their last, but she had other plans. Papa and Tony and the life she’d lived for twenty-three years were far, far away. Reif was a single, attractive, heterosexual male and she was living in his house. If any of them thought for one minute that she wasn’t going to take advantage of all of those factors, they were nuts.
If the Carbonis were still looking for her, and she had to assume they were, this might be her one, her only chance to be with a man. Sure, she’d managed to circumvent her family’s watchful eyes on a few occasions. Managed, somehow, to lose her virginity on prom night fumbling in the back seat of Ryan Kendrick’s Infiniti. She’d been disappointed that time and the very few others that had followed. There had to be more than the quick couplings she’d experienced with teens and college boys that were over almost before they started and left her frustrated.
Her encounter with Reif had proven that there was.
She planned to take this opportunity to experience everything she could, to have a lot of hot, steamy sex with Reif—provided, of course, she could persuade him that his friendship with Tony would survive. That would most likely be the biggest hurdle. Well, that and his Leave it to Beaver era views on marriage.
She smiled again as she held the coffee mug to her lips. Somehow, she felt sure she could take Reif’s mind off Tony.
* * * * *
Late the following Friday afternoon Quinn huddled in bed, curled into herself, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around her knees. For most of the morning she’d tried to ignore the nagging fuzzy headache behind her eyes and concentrate on the paper she was writing. She knew the warning signs, of course, but she subscribed to the philosophy that if you ignored the symptoms you wouldn’t actually develop the condition.
No such luck. The fuzzy headache had turned into a full-blown migraine signaling the start of her period. By four o’clock, she had cramps so bad she was doubled over, pain shooting down her right leg. She’d crawled into bed and tried to relax, but it wasn’t working. She could feel herself clench every time a cramp slid through her and her head seemed to pound that much harder.
Oh, the joy of being a woman, she thought. A magical time to be alive. Bullshit. Hormonal surges like this were the absolute pits. The migraine didn’t happen every month, but when it did, it was a doozy. Like today. If she had a gun, she’d think long and hard about using it, she often joked with herself, just to put herself out of her misery. Why me? She chanted in her head. Why now?
If she’d been at home, Bubba would have curled up next to her and purred in silent non-judgmental commiseration. Just his presence would have been comforting. It was ridiculous how much she missed that damn cat.
She tried to concentrate, taking slow deep breaths to make herself calmer, to help her body relax. As a form of meditation she listened to the sound of her breathing.
Innnnn. Ooooouuuuuuttt. Innnnnnn. Ooooouuuutttttttt.
It didn’t help much, but it distracted her from the pain. A little. She should get up. Go take some ibuprofen. That might help. Except she didn’t want to move.
“Are you sick?”
Obviously, the meditation had distracted her more than a little. She hadn’t heard Reif�
�s arrival, nor his feet on the stairs, the tap on the bedroom door or the door opening. She couldn’t remember if she’d even closed it.
She opened her eyes a sliver. Sunlight slanted through the windows, warming the room, and practically blinding her. She didn’t move or turn around. She slammed her eyes shut again. “I’m fine. Go away.”
“You don’t look like you’re fine. What’s the matter?” His voice, filled with curiosity and concern seemed closer, which meant he hadn’t done as she’d asked but had moved further into the room.
“Nothing. Just leave me alone.”
“It isn’t nothing. Do you have the flu?”
“No. I’ll be all right.” She fought the urge to press a palm against her temple where her head was throbbing.
“Should I call a doctor? Maybe there’s something going around.” He came around the bed so he was right next to her.
“Argh!” She opened her eyes for one painful moment to see him hovering above her, a worried expression on his face. “Just go away!” She rolled over, pressing one hand against her eyelids to block the light and pushing the other against her abdomen.
“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” He put his palm to her forehead.
“I don’t have a fever,” she mumbled.
“But you’re in pain,” Captain Obvious informed her. “Do you still have your appendix? Maybe it ruptured.”
Now she wanted to laugh. “It’s not my appendix. Go away.”
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”
“You can get me a big glass of Go Away Already.” He started to retreat, before she remembered. She squinted at him. He was almost to the door. “Wait! Do you have ibuprofen?”
“Sure. Want me to bring you a couple?”
“Four and some water, please.”
“Four? I don’t think you’re supposed to—”
“Please. Just do it.”
He disappeared without saying anything else and returned with the tablets and a glass of water. He set the glass on the nightstand after she swallowed them. “Is there anything else—”
She shook her head before he even finished the question. He started for the door again, but she thought of something else. “Wait! How about a cold cloth with some ice wrapped up in it?”
“You got it.”
He left and came back, handing her the ice pack.
“Anything else?” he asked.
“No.” She pressed the cold compress to her eyes.
“You’re sure this time.”
“Yes.”
“Won’t stop me halfway out the door again?”
Quinn shot him a look.
“If you just have a headache, why didn’t you just say so?”
“I didn’t feel like explaining.”
“You know I should have some kind of medical history on you in case of an emergency. Tony wouldn’t like it if—”
“Go away.”
“—something serious happened to you and you had to be rushed to the hospital—”
“You’re still here.”
“—and I couldn’t give them any information about you like date of birth, childhood illnesses—”
“Oh, for chrissakes!”
“—do you still have your tonsils, when was your last tetanus shot—”
She yanked the compress away from her eyes. “It’s not just a headache, okay. You want to know what’s wrong, I’ll tell you. I’m having my period. Migraines are part of my deal. I feel like shit right now, but hey, at least you can stop worrying about hiring a priest behind my back because now you know without a shadow of a doubt that I’m not pregnant. Okay? You got it? Now go. Away.”
She put the compress over her eyes again, but not fast enough to miss the mild disappointment she was sure she saw in Reif’s expression. She wondered if it was because of the news or her being in full-on bitch mode. She turned over again, away from him, praying he’d leave.
Instead she felt his weight on the bed behind her. He smoothed the hair back from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. “Hey, I’ve got a heating pad. Would that help? For the cramps, I mean.”
Christ. Even full-on bitch mode couldn’t stop him from being a gentleman. Tears started to leak out of her eyes into the cold cloth. A reply clogged up in her throat, so she just nodded as vigorously as she could.
His weight left the bed. Before she had time to remember that he’d grown up with three sisters so of course her situation would be nothing new to him, he was back. She pulled the compress away from her eyes for a second and saw him close the blinds. She heard him nearby, plugging in the heating pad. He put the pad beneath her hand, pressed a kiss to her temple and then he was gone, closing the door gently behind him.
Quinn tucked the heating pad against her abdomen, pressed the cold cloth against her eyes and eventually fell asleep.
* * * * *
Reif sat at his desk in a corner of the living room, a glass of iced tea nearby and a stack of press clippings in front of him. He tried to concentrate, but the words blurred as he read the same page twice without absorbing any of the information. Disgusted, he got up and went out to the pool deck.
Quinn wasn’t pregnant. He should be relieved like any other normal male caught in the same potentially disastrous situation. Instead he couldn’t shake the sense of disappointment.
Quinn made it clear she wouldn’t marry him to save his friendship with Tony. In truth, that would have been a lousy reason for any woman to marry. He’d been a fool to suggest it. Still, he couldn’t assuage his guilt about sleeping with her. He felt an obligation to somehow make it right. Maybe just the offer was enough.
Tomorrow would be exactly one week since Quinn arrived. It hadn’t been a bad week. As roommates, they got along well. Quinn liked to putter about in the kitchen. Twice he’d come home to dinners prepared by her. The other nights, they’d shared duties, usually him in charge of the grill and her the salad. They worked as a team. He’d begun to look forward to having her there, having someone to talk to while he ate, or another presence in front of the television.
But it was more than that. He liked her. Liked looking at her, liked talking to her. She read the LA Times which he barely glanced at before he left for the office. She was interested in pop culture and music and the arts. She was so easy to be with, so undemanding, so darned appealing.
As soon as she’d told him she had her period he knew exactly what she needed. A heating pad and peace and quiet. The ibuprofen would help the cramps and, he hoped, her headache as well. He’d grown up in a house with four women. He liked to think he understood them better than most men. But maybe he was fooling himself.
He went back inside and peered at the contents of the refrigerator. He heated up leftover pasta in the microwave and ate it in front of the TV. Then he went and checked on Quinn. She seemed to be asleep, so he tiptoed out and left her alone.
He sacked out in front of the TV to watch a police drama, feeling strangely alone. She’d been here for one whole week and he couldn’t even watch TV by himself. Pathetic.
A noise in the kitchen caught his attention during a commercial. He went to investigate. Quinn stood at the water cooler, filling a tea kettle.
“Feeling better?”
She shrugged and set the kettle on the burner and turned on the gas without looking at him. “I’m just going to make some tea and go back to bed.”
“I’ll make it for you.” He moved behind her, opened the cabinet door and reached for the canister of tea bags.
“You don’t have to do that.”
He set the container on the counter. “I know, but I want to—”
“You don’t have to take care of me.”
Reif froze at her tone, as if she’d slapped him across the face.
Quinn didn’t know why she was lashing out at Reif
, except she felt lousy and he was a convenient target. She was on edge, all mixed up inside. She bowed her head and fought the urge to cry.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she whispered. What was wrong with her anyway?
Before she knew it, she was wrapped in Reif’s arms. She clenched handfuls of his shirt in her fists and the tears started. Not great wrenching sobs, just a brief crying jag that seemed hardly worth the effort, but which served to soothe her just the same.
Why didn’t more men understand this? That just when a woman was at her lowest, nastiest moment, what she needed was a hug and some tenderness? Tony and her father retreated whenever she got like this, avoiding her until she was back to her normal self. According to her girlfriends, most men followed that pattern. Reif, however, showed no fear in the face of her raging hormones.
She had a brief image of Fantasy Man opening his shirt and turning into Superman. Able to ward off evil cramps armed with a heating pad and ibuprofen, battling back against unwarranted bitchiness. Able to soothe with a simple hug.
She let go of his shirt and slid her arms around his waist. If he thought she was going to let an opportunity like this slip away, he was nuts. He’d been avoiding physical contact with her for a week, which only increased her craving for his touch. She laid her head just below his shoulder and pressed against him, not caring that her hair was a mess, or that she was a physical wreck.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what?” She could hear the smile in his voice.
“Being so bitchy.”
“You’re entitled.”
“You didn’t deserve it though.”
“It’s okay. I’m bulletproof.” He broke the embrace leaving her no choice but to let him step away. He ruffled her hair before removing the kettle from the burner, where it had begun to whistle.
She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her robe while he poured hot water into a mug and added a tea bag.
“I miss my cat,” she said, as if that explained her mini-breakdown.
“Bubba?”
She sniffed and nodded. “He’s this big ball of white fur. At home he follows me everywhere.”
Fantasy Man Page 5
