Crazy for the Competition (Hope Springs)

by Cindi Madsen

  They stood there, gazes tangling for a moment, and then the flurry of the party broke through as a couple who practically dripped money approached. Clearly they weren’t very good at sensing tense situations, because Heath was sure this one could be spotted from miles away. Mr. Sakata’s entire face changed in a flash, much like Quinn’s did when she had to power through something she didn’t want to, and he greeted them warmly and thanked them for coming.

  As soon as the other man pulled Mr. Sakata into a conversation, Quinn steered Heath away. She greeted people, introduced him, and made small talk, more subdued than she’d been at the beginning of the party, but still easily winning them over. Every time she bit back a laugh or cut one off before it fully caught hold, though, it ate at him.

  Mr. Churchill came over to talk to them again and asked Heath for his card so he could have Heath build him a motorcycle. While most of Heath’s clients came from word of mouth or the website he needed to do a better job of maintaining, he’d made up a few cards. After being in his wallet so long, they looked a bit crumpled, but they had the necessary info. Mr. Churchill promised to pass on Heath’s name to the guys he rode across the country with as well, and then his wife came over and tugged him away.

  The crowd thinned, and Quinn glanced at her phone. “I think it’s time to make a break for it before we have another awkward interaction with my father.” She cast him a worried sideways glance. “Sorry about that, by the way, but you have no idea how much your being here helped me.”

  “Even though you’re going to regret it later, when you have to actually deal with it?” he asked.

  She winced and then quickly tried to recover. “Yes. Now, what do I have to do to get you to take me home?”

  “Little girl, be careful what you ask for, because you just might get it.” He guided her toward the exit, out the door, and over to his truck. “We’ll get your car tomorrow.”

  “No need. I took a taxi here so we could ride back to my place together.”

  He gripped her hips and boosted her into the truck, his heart pumping double time as he climbed in after her and fired up the engine. It’d been a long week, and he was glad to finally be alone with Quinn again. With her by his side, the restlessness that’d plagued him all week disappeared.

  She gave him directions to her place, which was only a few miles away.

  Once in a while her lifestyle versus his hit him hard, showing him just how different they were. Like right now, as he took in the recently built townhouse she called home. But then she leaned in and dragged her nose across his cheek before placing a soft kiss on his jaw, and differences didn’t matter anymore. “Do you have a suitcase?” she asked.

  “Duffel bag.” He reached behind the seat to get it. “Gonna carry it for me?”

  “If you need me to,” she replied with a grin. He slid out, shouldered the bag, and took her hand. This was new territory for him—staying the night without having sex. He felt like he was walking a fine line, unsure what would be considered stepping outside of it. Wanting to push the boundaries but not enough to push her away.

  She flipped on the lights and then pointed out the guest room. “I figured we could change into less binding clothes and hang out.”

  Hang out. Sure. Not think about the way that purple dress emphasized the nice curve of her butt or how her sexy legs would feel wrapped around him. Definitely not think about getting her out of the dress. He tugged at his tie, in desperate need of more air, although he didn’t think it actually had anything to do with the fabric noose around his neck. “I could use a wardrobe change.”

  “See you in a few minutes, then.” She lingered in the doorway to her bedroom, one hip against the frame, and sank her teeth into her lower lip. He watched, mesmerized, his fingers twitching to grab her and make quick work of that dress.

  Then she swung the door shut, and he closed his eyes, trying to cool the molten need searing burning trails through his body.

  …

  Quinn leaned against her door, taking deep breaths in an attempt to cool the desire that’d turned to need somewhere along the way. She’d been tempted to forget her rules before, but right now, she was playing with fire. Sexy, tattooed, ripped-abs fire.

  She reached back and tugged at the zipper on her dress, hoping focusing on the task would help, even though she knew it was highly unlikely anything would help at this point. A few inches down, the zipper caught. She craned her neck, trying to get a look, but she couldn’t see it, even after making herself cross-eyed. She pinched the tab between her fingers and pulled down again, and then up when it refused to cooperate, but the zipper wouldn’t budge either way. She attempted to wiggle out of the dress with the little gap she’d made, but the dress was far too snug and also refused to move up or down more than a couple inches—apparently it and the zipper were in cahoots.

  Real funny, guys, she thought, and then wondered at her mental state. At least she hadn’t said it aloud, though, right? That kept her right above the completely bonkers mark.

  She tugged her dress back into place the best she could, walked out of her bedroom, and then knocked on the door to the guest room. “Not trying to torture you or anything, but I’m stuck in my dress. Could you help me with my zipper?”

  Rustling noises came from behind the door and then it swung open, revealing a shirtless Heath.

  “Holy shitballs,” she said, her eyes glued to the muscles covered in ink. As if it had a mind of its own, her hand lifted to the tattoo running across his left pec. She traced the colored lines of the fiery bird and flames, realizing it was a phoenix. His skin twitched under her touch, sending a surge of power through her. After feeling so helpless earlier at the party, it was especially addictive.

  The feathered wing merged into swirls on his sleeve, a mix of stars, a cross, and other images that flowed flawlessly to the next, outlining the ridges of his muscles. She followed the trails of ink, entranced by the feel of the slightly raised skin under her fingertips.

  “Quinn.” His voice was low, husky, and the dark eyes that met hers made heat pool low in her stomach, leaving her aching for something more. Which meant she should step away.

  But her feet remained firmly in place. “Just checking out your tattoos.”

  “That’s fine as long as I get to do the same to you,” he said.

  “I don’t have any tattoos.”

  His eyes locked onto hers, and what little color she could see around his dilated pupils was most definitely blue tonight. With a hint of green. “I’m afraid I’ll have to see for myself.”

  Her heart slammed against her chest, so hard she wouldn’t be surprised if it burst right out of her.

  He placed his hands on her shoulders and then curled his fingers around them. “Don’t worry, I’m aware of your boundaries. If I get too close to crossing the line, all you have to do is say so, okay?”

  She meant to say, “Okay,” but her tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of her mouth, so she simply nodded.

  “Now, didn’t you have a stuck zipper?”

  She turned her back to him, sweeping her hair to one side so he could take a look without it in the way. He wiggled the tab of the zipper, but it didn’t budge, so he began gently pulling at the fabric. Just when she thought she was going to have to cut herself out of the dress—a shame, since it was one of her favorites—the zipper slid down. Cool air hit her exposed skin, and with the amount of heat currently radiating through her body, it was especially welcome.

  Heath slipped his hand inside the dress, his callused fingertips dragging across her skin, and her internal temperature shot up again, the cool air no longer enough to faze it. He moved his hand around to her stomach and then pulled her back flush against his chest. His obvious arousal heightened hers, and rapid breaths sawed in and out of her mouth. He brushed his fingers across the bottom of her bra and her heartbeats fractured and raced to the spot where his hand warmed her skin.

  His lips hit her neck, and a moan escaped her. He mo
ved his hand lower and lower, at a tortuously slow pace, but stopped with his fingertips against the top of her panties.

  “I…” As much as she didn’t want him to stop, she knew she’d never be able to if they went any farther. Her entire body pulsed with want already, and her thoughts were beyond fuzzy. “We’ve reached the line.”

  He withdrew his hand, but instead of getting mad or cutting their make-out session short, he turned her around, pushed her against the opposite wall, and covered her mouth with his. The kiss was like their arguments—he’d make a move and she’d reply, both of them fighting for control.

  Weeks of frustration. Lust. Passion.

  Something more she was scared to even think…

  He boosted her up on the wall, and her legs went around his waist. Then the kiss morphed into more of a team effort. Given and taken breaths and swirling tongues that danced in tandem and made it clear just how well they worked together.

  Her dress slipped off a shoulder, and Heath kissed down her neck, across her exposed collarbone, to the swell of her breast. He palmed the other one, his thumb brushing across the thin lace and sending corresponding jolts through her core.

  She dug her fingers into his shoulders and rolled her hips, eliciting a groan from him. The threads of her control snapped one by one, until only a tiny frayed string remained. “Heath,” she said, the word coming out on a labored breath. “Line.”

  He rested his forehead on her shoulder for a moment, and then he slowly let her down, shaking his head in a dazed way, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as hers. “Sorry. Got a little carried away.”

  “Me, too.” She bit her lip. “No yelling?”

  He cupped her cheek. “Definitely not. Never yelling about this.” He gave her a hard kiss on the mouth, shoved his hands in his pockets, and backed away. “But maybe a cold shower. Yeah, I’ll be back in a few.”

  Quinn changed into her least sexy pajamas—flannel pants and a tank top—and scanned her movies. Not sexy. Not horrible.

  That narrowed it down quite a bit. Finally she settled on The Heat. Good, funny, and better yet, no sex scenes to completely derail her attempts to not think about it.

  When Heath came out, his hair was damp and his shirt clung to his skin. She bit back a groan.

  “Hey, no making sexy noises,” he said, sitting down next to her. Apparently she hadn’t done such a good job of biting it back. She wasn’t doing a good job of not thinking about sex, either.

  She ran a shaky hand through her hair. “This whole relationship is totally impossible,” she said. “I’m still not sure why you haven’t run.”

  “Because I’m not stupid.” He draped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her next to him. They cuddled and watched the movie, exchanging glances now and then as if they were checking on each other.

  As the movie wound down, she studied his sexy profile and thought about how incredible the night had been, from the party to the hottest kissing session ever to snuggling on her couch. For the first time since she’d put in her offer on Mountain Ridge, she wondered what was at stake if she actually got it and if it was worth the risk.

  Her heart was on the line, she knew that much. In fact, the tingly euphoric haze currently flooding her senses made it clear that despite telling herself to be careful, she’d accidentally fallen in love faster and deeper than she ever had before.

  Chapter Twenty

  The doorbell jerked Quinn out of a dead sleep, the amazing dream featuring Heath fading away even as she tried to hold it in her mind. She squinted against the morning light glowing around her blinds, threw back the sheet and covers, and pulled on a robe. She padded out of her room, casting a quick glance at the closed door of the guest room.

  As amazing as her dream had been, the fact that Heath had come to her work party and then spent the night without pressuring her for more was a real-life dream coming true. She let the grin on her face stretch into completely enamored territory and then headed toward the door as the bell rang again.

  The peephole showed Chichi and Haha on the other side, their austere expressions already in place. Quinn’s blood pressure spiked as she cast another glance down the hall. If they found out Heath was here, separate bedroom or not, they’d completely freak. Any chance of them eventually liking him would be gone for good. Even though the odds of that ever happening were slim, she wasn’t quite ready to extinguish the glimmer of hope that they’d somehow survive their staggering amount of complications and pull off a full-fledged relationship.

  “We’re not leaving until you talk to us,” Chichi said.

  With a futile attempt to telepathically tell Heath to stay put, Quinn cracked open the door. “It’s not a good time,” she said. “I made commitments in Hope Springs, and I’ve got to get going. We’ll have to talk Monday morning at the office.”

  “What were you thinking bringing that tattooed mechanic to a work function?” Clearly Chichi didn’t take direction very well. “Were you trying to hurt me? Because if you were, you certainly achieved it.”

  Guilt came, fast and hot, shame heating her face. She’d needed Heath last night, but asserting her independence at the party had been a disrespectful move, one she knew embarrassed her father. She only meant to show him he couldn’t choose her dates, not hurt him.

  “Does he even have a degree?”

  She gritted her teeth. Saying no seemed like a betrayal, even though it was the truth.

  “You honestly think you’ll be happy with a guy like that?”

  Quinn glanced from him to Haha, although she wasn’t sure why. She certainly wouldn’t get any help. They always presented a united front.

  Panic choked her as a noise came from the back of the house. Please, please don’t come out of the room.

  “I’ve provided for you, and this is how you repay me?” Chichi continued, never one to keep a rant short. “You have your nice office and your new townhome and your car. Commercial real estate is difficult to get into, I’ll have you know, but I paved the way for you.”

  “I appreciate it, Chichi. But I still need to be free to live my own life. To not be treated like a child.” She hadn’t planned on saying any of those things, but they slipped out, and as scared as she was to have them out there, she liked that after two years of constantly biting them back, they weren’t clogging her throat anymore.

  “You’re acting like a child. Throwing it all away for a guy. You think it’ll last? That he’ll take care of you?”

  Of course her father didn’t think she could take care of herself. She opened her mouth to respond, but a lump lodged in her throat.

  Chichi threw up an arm in exasperation. “You’re letting your impulses control you instead of thinking about the future. I thought you’d learned, but now I see that I’ve given you too much freedom. Played into your whims too much.”

  Too much freedom? Whims? When it came to work, she did her due diligence just like everyone else. And the decisions she’d made this past month were because she was thinking about her future. A future that didn’t include working for her father until every ounce of happiness had been squeezed out of her one crappy year at a time.

  “Until we get this worked out, I’m going to need the keys to the car,” he said, extending his hand. “It’s for work and clients, not for joyrides to Hope Springs.”

  Clenching her jaw, she grabbed her key ring, removed the key and fob to the Mercedes, and placed them in his open palm. Instead of twenty-four, she felt sixteen again. He’d never treat her any differently, no matter how many deals she closed or clients she brought in. In his eyes, she’d always be the rebellious daughter who needed to be kept in line “for her own good.”

  “I’ll see you Monday,” she said. “I might be late, since I’ll have to take the bus.” Without waiting for a reply, she swung the door closed. Never before had she ended the conversation before Chichi dismissed her. A mix of guilt and pride that she’d stood up for herself hit her, leaving her somewhere between feeling lik
e she could take on the world and bursting into tears.

  Her family would always be important to her, and she hated the thought of what this might do to her relationship with her parents, but it’d been a long time coming. She might not have a car anymore, and she wouldn’t be surprised if her father demanded she move out of her townhouse. But if it meant being in control of her life, she’d find a way to stand on her own two feet, no matter what it took.

  …

  The silence that hung in the air after the door slammed made Heath wonder if Quinn was having a breakdown. He’d thought her dad was harsh last night, but to come to her house and scold her like that?

  Clearly I still don’t understand their family dynamic. Heath knew some of it went back to their culture and how strongly they felt about respecting their elders, but Quinn was a grown woman.

  Who hadn’t defended him. Not that he needed her to, but he’d held his breath as he’d waited for her answer after Mr. Sakata had asked if she honestly thought she’d be happy with a guy like him. The silence had filled his gut with lead. Then there’d been the question about him providing for her.

  He wasn’t a provider type guy. He’d barely started to think maybe he could be a relationship type guy. He’d known from the start he wasn’t good enough for Quinn—that they had significant differences that’d make a relationship difficult. Perhaps impossible.

  He tugged on his jeans and a T-shirt and then exited the room. Quinn was staring at her coffeemaker, watching the stream of brown pour into the glass pot.

  She spun around and pulled out her fake smile. “Morning. Small complication with my car—I might not be able to go to Hope Springs, which I guess means the Dixie Rush concert is out, too, which really sucks, because I’ve been dying to hear you guys play your songs in a live venue. There’s always next time, though, right?”

  “Quinn.”

  Her smile cracked, and her gaze dropped to the floor. “So you heard.”