The Engagement Deal

by Kim Lawrence

  ‘I’m not wasting any time is what I’m doing,’ he told her, striding purposefully out of the room. ‘The guided tour of your new home. I think we’ll start with the bedroom.’

  ‘Excellent idea,’ she approved.

  He never did get around to showing her the rest of the house.

  CHAPTER TEN

  HOLLY was awoken from a deep sleep by the insistent sound of the door being hammered. She switched on the bedside light and brushed aside the clinging shreds of sleep.

  She glanced at the clock. Had Rowena missed her flight? Wistfully, she looked towards the empty pillow beside her. It shouldn’t have been empty, but Niall had left when they were halfway through their meal in response to an SOS from Tara.

  Niall hadn’t seem overly concerned by the news Tom was being violently sick—or, for that matter, particularly surprised. He explained that Tara was a soft touch where their son was concerned and, being a small boy, Tom took advantage and pigged out big time on junk food if he got the opportunity.

  Holly hadn’t worried much about his departure until Rowena had remarked how much she would hate to have a man who dropped everything at the behest of his ex-wife. She had managed to imply that she wouldn’t be content with playing second fiddle. Holly had tried not to brood over Rowena’s comments. Rowena was pretty poisonous where Tara was concerned—a prime example of her self-confessed territorial instincts at work? She found herself wondering how her own relationship with Niall would stand up to the pressure if Rowena started getting territorial.

  Perhaps, Holly speculated, hurriedly drawing on a light summer wrap, Tom had staged a miraculous recovery. Her heart began to race in eager anticipation.

  She opened the door and her visitor almost fell over the door step.

  ‘Where is she?’ The visitor demanded belligerently. He staggered backwards and leant heavily against the wall to steady himself while he worked on the awkward problem of moving forwards once more.

  ‘Quinn…?’ Holly trotted after him as he stalked unsteadily into the open plan living area.

  ‘I know she’s back…She’s been seen. Don’t bother trying to deny it.’

  The Quinn Tyler she knew was a tall, strikingly confident individual with a penchant for exquisitely cut expensive suits, girls with long legs and, if the rumours were true, fast motorbikes. She was sure he would look stunning in his biker leathers—tonight, he didn’t look stunning, he looked ravaged.

  The stubble on his square jaw was too abundant to be termed designer anything and his green eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. His suit was crumpled past redemption and he reeked of booze. If she hadn’t known him, she might have crossed to the opposite side of the street if she’d seen him coming; there was a palpable air of barely repressed violence about him.

  The startling transformation from sleekly urbane professional to drunken wreck was remarkable enough to make Holly stare and continue to stare as he started looking behind chairs, even inside cupboards, in his search for Rowena. It was interesting to note that even inebriated he was meticulously methodical, if not altogether practical in his approach.

  ‘I know you’re here,’ he slurred at regular intervals.

  ‘Quinn, I think you should sit down…’ She stopped. Maybe not; if he sat down, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get him up again. ‘You can’t go—’ she began in alarm as he lurched towards the bedroom. Quinn, it seemed, wasn’t in a listening mood.

  She winced as the door hit the bedroom wall with a massive thud that reverberated through the entire flat. What Rowena would say about a great hole in her plaster— Quinn was a big man—God alone knew, she fretted, following him.

  ‘Oh, God, where is she?’ The big bad man had turned abruptly into the little boy.

  Holly was too horrified to be beguiled by the transformation. He was lying full-length on the bed she’d just vacated.

  ‘I know she’s here somewhere. I can smell her,’ he insisted, lifting a pillow to his face and inhaling deeply. ‘It’s still warm. The bed’s still warm…Holly.’

  ‘She’s flown back to New York, Quinn,’ Holly told him gently. Her soft heart oozed compassion as she knelt on the edge of the bed and looked down at the pitiful figure he made.

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t lie to you, Quinn.’

  ‘No, you’re a nice girl, Holly,’ he slurred sentimentally. ‘Why didn’t I fall for a nice girl like you? A reasonable girl. I’m not unreasonable, am I?’ He grabbed her hand and appealed to her.

  ‘You’re drunk, Quinn.’

  ‘Plastered,’ he agreed gravely. ‘Off my head, drunk as skink…skunk. What should I do, Holly? P-pretty name, Holly. I like it.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She wondered whether he’d remember any of this tomorrow, and hoped for both of their sakes he didn’t. ‘Go home and sleep it off.’ She patted his shoulder consolingly.

  He blinked owlishly up at the ceiling. ‘Excellent idea. The thing is, I don’t actually think I can move,’ he grimaced apologetically and looked down at his uncooperative limbs.

  Holly sighed heavily. Short of acquiring heavy lifting gear, what alternative did she have? ‘You’d better stay here.’

  ‘Make some man a great wife,’ Quinn murmured, closing his eyes. ‘Extremely grateful,’ he added with exquisite politeness. About twenty seconds elapsed before he started snoring.

  Out for the count! Holly stared at his unconscious figure with amused irritation. Men! Tutting quietly to herself, she unlaced and pulled off his shoes, removed his tie and loosened his shirt. With a sigh, she removed a pillow from the other side of the bed for herself and used the others to prop the big man up on his side in the recovery position. If he did throw up, he could forget about getting together with Rowena; her sister was extremely squeamish, not to mention intolerant, about such things. She unfolded the foldaway bed she’d used while Rowena was here and made up a bed.

  Holly was folding the put-you-up away the next morning when Quinn finally surfaced. Amazingly—she’d deliberately let out all the stops when rendering her off-key version of a popular tune—he’d managed to sleep solidly through her noisy occupation of the shower room. He sat up, looked at her with a comically startled expression, and then, clutching his head, fell back down, groaning.

  ‘Oh, God!’ he groaned. ‘I’m dying.’

  ‘I shouldn’t think so.’

  ‘Holly?’ Sitting up, cautiously this time, Quinn looked at her through eyes slitted against the light in the room. She saw in his eyes the moment when he remembered. ‘Holly!’ he groaned.

  ‘You remember last night?’

  ‘Most of it,’ he agreed warily. ‘I didn’t do anything—make a nuisance of myself—did I?’ He rubbed his head gingerly, making his brown hair stand spikily on end.

  ‘Discretion is my middle name,’ she assured him soothingly. ‘Though it might be an idea if you got someone to do something about the chunk of plaster you knocked out of the wall. Rowena’s rather particular about that sort of thing.’

  At the mention of her sister, Quinn’s expression got all mean and broody. What, Holly couldn’t help but wonder, would have happened if Rowena had been here last night?

  ‘I’ll do that. I’m sorry I stole your bed last night.’ He was looking with some concern at her light robe.

  Holly’s lips quivered. ‘Yes, you did,’ she reassured him. ‘You’re not my type, Quinn.’

  The big man looked sheepish but, encouraged by the twinkle in her eyes, eventually grinned. ‘Yes, well…’ He grimaced. ‘God, but my mouth tastes disgusting.’

  ‘Shower and toothpaste are at your disposal.’

  ‘You’re an angel,’ he breathed gratefully. ‘You wouldn’t have such a thing as an aspirin, would you…?’

  ‘Better make it paracetemol, considering the condition of your poor abused stomach-lining. I’ll put on the coffee.’

  ‘Thanks, Holly,’ he said quietly as she turned to leave.

  ‘For the coffee?
’

  ‘That and not asking questions.’

  The coffee was brewing nicely when she heard the post clunk on the carpet, followed by a polite tap on the door.

  ‘Niall!’ She gaped at the tall figure who handed her a small parcel. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Niall planted his hands firmly about her waist, his lips firmly on her mouth and walked into the flat, kicking the door shut behind him. He smelt sexily wholesome, all squeaky freshly washed hair and warm male. Holly sighed with pleasure and kissed him back with enthusiasm.

  ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘Fine,’ she agreed, not understanding the air of tension he was exuding. ‘Is Tom better?’ she murmured, planting a couple of small kisses against his lean cheek. She trailed a finger down his jawline as he placed her back on her feet.

  ‘Right as rain.’ He turned his head and kissed the tip of her finger. His hot summer sky eyes moved greedily over her face and flickered with interest towards the loose neck of her wrap. Holly felt her stomach muscles spasm.

  ‘What did you want to talk about?’

  His eyes shifted from hers evasively. ‘I wanted to wish you luck.’ Spineless coward, he told himself scornfully.

  ‘Is that all?’

  ‘First day in your new job. Have you forgotten, or are you just super-cool and confident?’

  ‘I wish.’ Why did she get the impression he was avoiding saying something?

  ‘Mmm, that smells good.’ His elegant nose twitched appreciatively. ‘Are you nervous?’ His expression became concerned.

  Nervous…You could say that. Why hadn’t it occurred to her until this second how this perfectly innocent situation might be misinterpreted? She couldn’t help her glance flickering nervously towards the bedroom door.

  ‘A bit,’ she agreed, watching Niall’s narrowed gaze automatically following the direction of her eyes. ‘The thing is, I didn’t get much sleep last night.’ Best to get the explanations out of the way now.

  ‘Lead me to the coffee.’ Quinn, bare-chested and rubbing his wet hair on a towel, walked into the room. ‘Just what the doctor ordered…’ He saw Niall and stopped, looking self-conscious. ‘Niall, this is a surprise.’ From his tone, it was pretty obvious it wasn’t a pleasant one.

  ‘For you and me both, mate, friend, buddy, old pal…’ Niall’s icy contemptuous drawl made Holly wince and Quinn frown in genuine bewilderment. ‘Holly’s just been telling me she didn’t get much sleep last night.’

  ‘I’m afraid,’ Quinn said apologetically, ‘that’s my fault.’

  Holly groaned. How, she wondered, had Quinn failed to see the very obvious danger signs? Niall was simply oozing suspicion and antagonism.

  ‘Niall, this isn’t—’ She made a desperate, last-ditch attempt to nip this farcical situation in the bud.

  ‘What it looks like?’ Niall gave an ugly laugh, took one step forwards and launched a vicious jab that landed on the jaw of the other man who, taken off guard and still feeling distinctly fragile, staggered backwards until he hit the wall and then gracefully slid down it.

  Holly flew forward to catch an odd, squiggly shaped piece of pottery that Rowena had proudly explained was by one of the most collectable young potters in the country; she was too late. She moaned as she watched the investment shatter on the floor.

  She stamped her small foot and glared at Niall. ‘Now look what you’ve done!’ she wailed furiously.

  ‘Pity you didn’t show the same respect for the rest of Rowena’s property.’ With a contemptuous curl of his lips Niall jerked his head sharply in Quinn’s direction. ‘You really have come out of her shadow with a vengeance, haven’t you?’ he jeered.

  Holly felt her temper flare as she registered the sordid insinuation that she’d sleep with her sister’s man as part of some sick game of one-upmanship. Was that what he thought of her? she wondered sickly.

  Just when she thought he’d insulted her as much as he could, he came up with an even more unsavoury interpretation.

  ‘Or had this been a long-term arrangement? If I’d known you wanted a relationship that doesn’t extend beyond the bedroom, it would have made life a lot easier.’

  ‘I’ve no desire to make your life easy!’ she yelled back.

  ‘Tell me something I didn’t know already. You’ve done nothing but turn my life upside down since the moment you insinuated yourself—’

  ‘Insinuated!’ She gaped at him with raw incredulity—was he serious? ‘I didn’t do any insinuating. It was against my better judgement that I helped you…and,’ she spat venomously, ‘I wish I hadn’t.’

  ‘Always was a grotesque piece of tat,’ Quinn mumbled, looking in a dazed fashion at the broken shard of pottery. He reached up to gingerly feel his rapidly swelling lip.

  The unexpected sound of Quinn’s voice acted like a cattle-prod on Niall, who had in the heat of battle forgotten his adversary; he bristled, the aura of violence about him deepening perceptively.

  ‘Who the hell cares?’ he flared, his eyes blazing contempt. ‘Get up, Tyler!’ His searing glare switched back to Holly. ‘And don’t expect me to buy any stories about last night being the first time.’

  ‘It wasn’t.’ She threw him a haughty pitying glance. Not the first, second or last, you stupid man, she thought furiously.

  Niall’s fists tightened until each clenched knuckle individually cracked. His eyes had all the warmth of stones as he watched Holly worriedly bend over Quinn—his friend Quinn. Not only had she not bothered defending herself, she was actually flaunting the truth under his nose. The buzzing in his brain made it hard to think straight. All that stuff about Quinn and Rowena must have been a blind and, like a prize sucker, he’d fallen for it!

  ‘Don’t get up, Quinn,’ Holly advised urgently. ‘He’ll only knock you down again.’

  ‘Don’t bet on it,’ Quinn responded pugnaciously. ‘He took me off guard.’

  ‘There’s one way to find out,’ Niall goaded belligerently. ‘Do you call her or does she call you?’ he ground out from between clenched teeth. ‘What do you call it? Being her mentor?’

  ‘If I can’t last the night without a man, you mean?’ Holly hooted derisively. Men and their macho posturing, she thought, giving a delicate shudder of loathing. A life of celibacy looked all of a sudden very attractive!

  ‘Please don’t bleed on Rowena’s carpet,’ she beseeched as Quinn made an abortive attempt to rise. ‘And for heavens’s sake, Niall, stop glowering like that!’ she rounded on him. ‘You’re making a complete fool of yourself,’ she warned him bitterly.

  ‘There’s a lot of that in the air,’ Quinn muttered, with a sudden surge of fellow-feeling for the man who’d knocked him down.

  Niall didn’t display any similar feelings of camaraderie as he rounded angrily on his contemporary. ‘When I want your opinion, Tyler, I’ll ask for it—only don’t hold your breath. On second thoughts,’ he snarled childishly, ‘do!’

  ‘What do you sound like?’ Hands on her hips, Holly divided her withering glance equally between the two men. ‘For God’s sake, grow up, the pair of you!’

  Quinn reluctantly smiled as he struggled to his feet. ‘Yes, ma’am.’ He clutched his head in obvious discomfort.

  ‘Well, you’ve only yourself to blame!’ Holly told him callously, her sympathy sorely tried.

  ‘That makes it worse.’ Quinn confided.

  ‘If you can’t stand the pace, perhaps you should stay out of her bed.’

  At this fresh slur, Holly caught her breath angrily. ‘This has gone far enough, Niall. You’re behaving like a jealous—’

  Niall’s eyes darkened; his body was rigid with barely contained fury. He’d make her want him so badly she’d beg and he’d just walk away—yes, that was what he would do, he brooded, gaining no comfort from his dark thoughts of revenge.

  ‘Of course I’m jealous, woman!’ he snarled contemptuously. ‘What man wouldn’t be, finding the woman he’s stupid enough to love has just spent the night with
a bed hopping Casanova!’

  A silent implosion went off inside her skull. ‘What did you say?’

  Niall’s head snapped back, as if an invisible fist had just landed a blow dead centre. The dull slashes of high colour made his cheekbones seem more prominent.

  ‘I said,’ he ground out, in an obvious effort to distract and confuse the issue, ‘I was going to spoil his pretty face.’

  In Holly’s admittedly biased opinion, Niall had a much prettier face. ‘No, you didn’t.’

  ‘That’s as maybe, but I am anyway,’ he growled.

  Quinn was looking from one to the other with a wry expression on his bruised face.

  ‘Well, you know where to find me, Niall, if you feel the urge to do anything about it.’ He ignored Niall’s savage hiss as he bent to kiss Holly’s cheek. ‘Thanks, Holly…’ She was impressed he didn’t recoil under the white-hot fury when he turned his head slowly to look directly at Niall. ‘For giving up your bed for me.’

  ‘Your shirt…jacket…’ Holly mumbled, dashing back into the bedroom and returning with both. Hurry up… Hurry up, she silently urged him, bundling the garments into his arms.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going, Tyler?’ Niall asked suspiciously.

  ‘Home, mate,’ Quinn informed him wearily. ‘I’d invite you, but I suspect you’ve got better things to do.’ He looked pretty pointedly at Holly.

  He looked like hell, and Holly felt a spasm of guilt because she selfishly couldn’t wait to see the back of him. She made a determined effort to compensate for her callous behaviour, although all she was actually conscious of was the anticipation growing inside her—he had said it, he really had—Niall loves me! She gloatingly luxuriated in the warm glow of this revelation as she touched Quinn’s arm.

  ‘You won’t drive, will you, Quinn?’ she fussed as he eased on his jacket.

  ‘To tell you the truth, Holly, I’ve not the faintest idea where I left my car.’ He reached into his jacket pocket. ‘Or my wallet. I don’t suppose you…?’