Start Me Up

by Victoria Dahl

  “Since this is our first date, I’ll let that slide. But don’t think I’m not paying attention. We’ll talk about your issues later.”

  Lori shook her head. “There are no issues during a meaningless affair. I’m an empty shell.”

  “Mmm.” His smile returned, as did the spark of sexual interest in his eyes. “You look particularly soft and warm for an empty shell.”

  She resisted the urge to tug her neckline up again.

  “Now back to your nonissues,” he pressed. “I’ve been thinking about you, Lori Love. What’s with the heels and dresses?”

  “I’m a girl.” The wine pushed warmth deep into her muscles, forcing out some of the tension. She was a girl. And she was soft and warm.

  “Does this have something to do with those books Molly writes?”

  The wine receded a little, traitorous and unreliable as far as courage went. Lori swallowed more to keep herself from choking on panic. “You told her about us? What else did she say? She shouldn’t have told you anything.”

  “No, I didn’t tell her. She just happened to mention that you were a fan.”

  “Good.”

  “Why?”

  Lori took her turn to study him, look him over. He was handsome and so sexy in his bookish way. His hands so elegant that she wanted to pick one up and stroke it. Suck a finger deep into her mouth, just to get them both hot and wondering. But she couldn’t do that kind of thing if she was always thinking of Quinn as Molly’s big brother. He was her sex object now, pure and simple. And he was waiting for an answer.

  “It’s hotter this way,” she forced out, and watched his eyebrows head for his hairline. “A secret affair. Discreet. And naughty.”

  “Naughty,” he repeated, though his mouth hardly moved.

  “Yes.”

  God bless the wine that had loosened her tongue, because the spark of interest in Quinn’s eyes exploded into fireworks of lust. “I have absolutely no interest in telling my sister a damn thing.”

  “What sister?” Lori countered.

  Quinn threw back his head and laughed, while Lori thought about licking her way up that strong, tanned neck.

  A passing man interrupted her daydream. “Quinn,” he said in surprise, reaching out his hand. “How you doing?” His deep Texas drawl rumbled from a barrel chest.

  “Great! Lori, this is Bill Adkinson. He owns one of the big title companies in town.”

  Lori shook his hand and tried hard to listen politely to the men’s conversation, but her mind had gotten stuck on a sudden thought.

  Maybe she could use Quinn for more than sex. Maybe she could use him to figure out why her land was so interesting to so many people.

  “Sorry about that,” Quinn said, clueing Lori in to the fact that his friend was walking away.

  “Oh, no problem. I thought it was interesting.”

  He smiled. “Really? Because you looked a little glazed over there.”

  As she laughed, she decided on her approach. “Hey, do you know Chris Tipton? He was in my class in high school and I hear he’s a big developer now.”

  “Sure, Tipton & Tremaine.”

  “Do you work with them?”

  Quinn shook his head as the salad plates arrived. “Most of my clients are individual home owners. Big developers want too much of a say in the design. I prefer to work from scratch. It’s more fun.”

  Shit. “So you don’t work with developers at all?”

  “I worked with a few when I was first starting out. It’s a good way to get your name out there. But now I only pick up projects with Anton/Bliss. They do some really great work on small, upscale developments.”

  Anton/Bliss? That was one of the names Helen had given her. Jackpot! “So are you working on anything for them right now?” She took a bite of spinach salad and tried to look casual.

  “No, not really,” he answered, and the bubble of hope growing in her chest deflated. “I’ve got my hands full with about a dozen builds going on right now. Summer is busy as hell, of course. And then there’s my personal project, which is taking more time than I…” His gaze slid down to her chest. “Um, Lori?”

  “Hmm?” Well, what had she expected, some grand revelation that, yes indeed, he was working on a top secret project for Anton/Bliss involving the very land that Lori had inherited from her dad?

  Quinn cleared his throat. “You’ve got salad dressing on your, ah, chest.”

  Worried she’d ruined her new dress, Lori glanced down, only to find that her linen dress was safe. But a tiny drop of honey dressing clung to the rounded top of her cleavage, slowly sliding its way toward the very low, very wide V of her neckline. Lori caught it with her finger and raised it to her lips, licking away the dressing before it occurred to her that she was in a nice restaurant and not The Bar.

  “Oops,” she said around her finger. Cringing, she looked up at Quinn, thinking she’d better apologize, but his expression stopped her.

  Lids heavy, hazel eyes blazing with heat, he watched her mouth, watched her slide her finger out. His gaze narrowed even more. She licked her lips and his own pressed tight together. When she wiped her hand on her napkin, his eyes fell back to her cleavage.

  Lori forgot all about Anton/Bliss and decided her attention would be better spent concentrating on eating. Fast.

  GOOD LORD, LORI LOVE was a sex object. Who could’ve known?

  Her dress was cut down to a very interesting place, the wide V showing off the barely rounded tops of her breasts, and leading Quinn’s brain on an intense analysis of whether or not she was wearing a bra. If she was, it was constructed of a little scrap of nothing, and he very much wanted to know what that nothing looked like.

  He’d managed to carry on a conversation all through dinner, answering all her questions about the cities he’d visited in Europe. But then she’d excused herself to use the restroom, and Quinn had been treated to the sight of her walking away, bloodred heels pointing the way to pale, delicate calves. Her thighs would be even paler. And her ass…

  “Okay,” he breathed. Time to get it together or he’d be nursing a hard-on through dessert.

  But, damn, she was cute.

  If he were reasonable, he’d just accept this for what it was: a sex gift dropped, almost literally, in his lap. But he wanted to know the why of it. Why him and why now? She hadn’t answered the question about Molly’s books.

  Quinn crossed his ankle over his knee and leaned to the side to peer into the compact red purse she’d left on the floor. Here was a clue that she might temporarily look like a character from Sex and the City, but she didn’t act like one. She’d left her makeup behind. Good. He liked the natural pink of her mouth. Such a relief after the gobs of shiny gloss Tessa had worn. Not even bubble-gum flavored or anything. Just sticky.

  Earlier, he’d spotted the spine of a book that didn’t quite fit into her purse, and now that Lori was away, he couldn’t resist plucking it out to spy.

  It really was one of those books. Erotica, Molly called it. Quinn winced at the giant, naked pecs of the oiled-up muscleman on the cover and flipped the book over to scan the author names. No Holly Summers, Molly’s pen name, thank God.

  Eyes widening, Quinn quickly read the description of the first story. “Wow.”

  A plain librarian hires a coldhearted private investigator to investigate her own past. But the ex-cop refuses her money…and demands more intimate payment for all the long, hard hours he’s put in.

  Blinking, Quinn scanned the other four story descriptions, managing to be shocked by each one in turn. He’d been happy to hear about Molly’s success as a writer, but he’d studiously avoided any and all details about her work. Clearly, that had been a wise idea. But as long as she hadn’t written any of these…

  He thumbed open the book, and began to read. Halfway through page three, a lightning-fast hand darted in and snatched the book from his fingers.

  “What are you doing?” Lori hissed.

  “Research.”

>   “Research?”

  “You never answered my question about the books.”

  Glaring a laser beam of anger into his head, Lori shoved the book back into her purse and dropped into her chair. “That was a hint that you were supposed to drop the subject.”

  “But I didn’t. I want to know what all this is about.”

  “All what?”

  “Lori.”

  She looked down at the table. The tips of her ears turned red. Her hands clutched each other against the tablecloth, knuckles growing whiter by the second. Shit, now Quinn felt like an asshole. “I’m sorry.”

  Lori just shook her head. Oh, God, what if she was crying? What had he said that would make her cry?

  He reached across the table to wrap his hand around hers. “Lori?”

  When she looked up, her expression was stubborn, her face pink, but there were no tears in her eyes. “I’ve never, um…”

  Quinn’s stomach fell, leaving a vacuum that sucked at his lungs and heart. Holy crap. “Lori? Are you saying…?” He leaned closer. “Are you a virgin?”

  “No! Oh, God, no. I turn thirty in two months!”

  His stomach snapped back into place, weak from all the travel. “But you said…Okay. Good. I mean, not that I wouldn’t be honored…”

  “It’s not that. It’s just that I’ve never really…There are things I want to experience and I—Shoot, I don’t know how to say this. I really don’t.” She glanced nervously around the restaurant.

  Quinn poured her the last glass of wine, then watched while she drank it too fast. The crème brûlée arrived in a ramekin shaped like a fish, and whatever the hell that was supposed to mean escaped him entirely, but then he was busy trying to analyze Lori and her stammered words.

  Her lips closed around one of the raspberries that had been scattered over the dessert. A tiny drop of deep red juice stained her mouth for a moment before she licked it away. Boy, did she have great tongue.

  “Is it that you’ve never had an orgasm?” he finally ventured.

  Her steady gaze seemed to give him an answer, but then she tilted her head a little, puzzled. “I don’t think that’s it.” She looked around again before dropping her voice to a near whisper. “I mean, I’ve had orgasms. But on its own, coming is just coming.”

  It was Quinn’s turn to look puzzled, and he felt he was doing a pretty good job of it. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Well, hell’s bells, Quinn, I don’t, either.” She smiled again, finally—he’d been missing that—and shook her head, making her curls brush her neck. “If you help me figure it out, I promise to make it worth your while.”

  “Deal,” he said, before she could take that back. “So tell me about the books.”

  “No.”

  “Come on, Lori. We’re going to have sex. Isn’t that a little more intimate than talking about it?”

  “No, it’s not!” She pulled her hand from his and crossed her arms. “You’re asking me what my fantasies are, and we’ve never even kissed.”

  “We’ve never even kissed, and we know we’ll be lovers, but that doesn’t bother you?”

  Lori reached for the wineglass, but when she saw it was empty, pushed her fingers into her hair instead. Then she blinked, pulled her hand carefully away from her curls, and patted them back into submission.

  “You’d better tell me, Lori. Or I might read the wrong story and show up at your house with a turkey baster and a giant pink bunny suit.”

  “A what?” she asked way too loudly, causing heads to swivel in their direction.

  Quinn raised his eyebrows and wiggled them until Lori deigned to laugh. It wasn’t long before she had to lay her forehead on the table to try to compose herself.

  Quinn offered a friendly wave to the people still watching Lori as she snorted into the tablecloth.

  “A turkey baster?” she squeaked.

  “What, the bunny suit’s okay with you?”

  “Stop it,” Lori gasped. “My mascara is going to run.”

  Taking advantage of her incapacitation, Quinn leaned down to retrieve the book. “Just give me a hint. A title. A number.”

  Her deep breath whispered past her lips in a long, long sigh. She inhaled just as slowly, making him wait before she finally gave in. “Number one,” she said. “And…number four.”

  He glanced down. “But number four is about an alien.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m human.”

  Lori finally raised her head to glare at him past her smudged makeup. “Oh, for God’s sake, Quinn. He’s just blue. Otherwise everything else is the same. They never have any tentacles or extra…actually, sometimes…But the guy in this story is normal.”

  “Okay, one and four.” And thank the sweet Lord she hadn’t mentioned number two, because that was about a woman and man and his best friend. Quinn wasn’t going there, not even for Lori.

  The bill arrived, and as soon as he’d paid it, Lori straightened up and nodded. “All right. Your place or mine?”

  Quinn jerked back in his chair. “Pardon?”

  “Where are we going to do this?”

  “Do this? You’ve got a nice way of making a boy feel special, you know that?”

  Lori closed her eyes, brow wrinkling in stress. “I’m sorry.” She waved her hands as if there were cobwebs brushing her face. “I don’t know how to do what we’re doing. I’m feeling a little freaked out, and I don’t mean to be rude, but I just want to get it over with.”

  Her eyes opened while Quinn was still bouncing off the triangular walls of offense, shock and amusement.

  “Quinn, I’m sorry. I know I’m being rude, but I just need to get through this first time, you know? Oh, God.” Her green eyes filled with sudden tears. “I’m turning into a monster.”

  “I do feel sort of like a harem girl being called up for the sultan’s latest pleasure.”

  “Story number five,” Lori whispered.

  “Exactly. Shall I prepare myself for you, mistress?”

  “God!” She surged to her feet, swaying a little on heels she wasn’t used to wearing, then spun and headed for the door.

  Quinn grabbed her purse—and the book—and followed.

  “Lori?” It took him only a moment to spot her. She stood at the corner of the next side street, facing his car, just at the edge of a pale circle of light falling from one of the old-fashioned lampposts. As he watched, she reached down and slid one red heel off, then the other.

  Glancing back at the sound of his steps, she raised her shoes in a gesture of defeat. “I’m no good at this.”

  “It’d be a little strange if you were.”

  She just shook her head.

  Despite his grand plans, Quinn was nearly overwhelmed with the urge to pick her up, kiss her senseless and drag her home to his lair. Lori was usually nothing if not strong and sure, but right now she looked as fragile as cracking glass. And why was that a turn-on? Some ancient, embarrassing male fantasy of saving a beautiful damsel in distress? What century was he living in?

  A slight wind rippled the material of her skirt and tugged at the brown spirals of her curly hair.

  “Lori, the whole point of this is for you to have a good time. It’s supposed to be hot and mindless, right? But tonight you’re worrying and thinking way too much.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I don’t want you to be someone else. Just yourself.”

  She threw her arms out in a jerky motion, the shoes almost hitting him in the chest. “I don’t want to be myself anymore! Don’t you get it? That’s what this is about!”

  “I get it.” The air of fragility burned off in her frustration, but Quinn’s need to touch her remained. He tucked the book into his coat pocket and reached for her arm to pull her closer. “But I want to do this with you, because of you. If you’re looking to find a new side of yourself, I’m fine with that. But I don’t want you to play at being someone else.”

  Her chin jutted out
. “What if that someone else is wearing a cheerleading uniform?”

  “Well…All right then, we could talk about that.”

  She laughed, a choked sound of relief that faded away when he pulled her gently forward, not stopping until he could feel the heat of her body a hairbreadth from his.

  He brushed his hand over one of her curls, letting it insinuate itself between his fingers. “I’ve never touched your hair before.”

  Her eyelids fluttered. “Sure you have. That time you attacked me with a hat.”

  “Not like this. Not real touching. It’s very soft. And I think it likes me.”

  “It likes everything, including twigs and bushes. I wouldn’t feel too flattered if I were you.”

  When he trailed his thumb down her temple, the sardonic smile fell away and she actually shivered. Her eyes closed. Quinn felt flattered despite her warning.

  “Lori.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers for a brief, gentle kiss.

  “Mmm?”

  Her face tilted up, inviting him to kiss her again, so he did. How could he not? And though he kept it just as soft as the first, his nerves stirred when her sigh swept over his mouth. His heart beat harder. He’d been about to say something. Something important…

  Right. “Lori, we’re not going to have sex tonight.”

  “Hmm?” When she leaned a little closer, her breasts brushed the cotton of his shirt.

  That seemed like a sad place to stop, so Quinn closed the last half inch between them and felt her small, strong body press against his for the first time. Electricity swirled through him like floating threads of pure heat. Imminent sex or not, there was no reason not to touch her.

  So he kissed her again, a real kiss this time, a kiss that asked her to open her mouth and let him in. She did.

  He’d never thought about what Lori Love might taste like, so he didn’t know why he felt surprised. But he was shocked at the rightness of her, sweet and sexual on his tongue, the most feminine thing he’d ever tasted.

  Quinn didn’t bother resisting the urge to have more of her. Moving slowly forward, he backed her out of the light and up against the side of the car. When he pressed his hips against her and deepened the kiss, Lori gasped. Her hands clutched at his waist, and she tugged him closer, harder. Her tongue slid over his, more urgent and needy as each second passed, until the logical thing to do became obvious.