He stopped just short of lip-to-lip contact, and whispered, “That was me, proving you wrong.”
Ginnie’s eyes flew open. “What?”
Quinn shot her a smug smile. “I have absolutely no need to force myself on you, and I’m sure as hell not ready to concede a loss. Enjoy your flight, hun. See you in Vegas.”
Sonofabitch.
With her face as red as the setting sun, Ginnie spun on one of her sensible heels and stalked back to Leila and her fake smile and the goddamned First Class seat.
Four
Quinn waited until Ginnie and her sweet, tempting ass were completely out of sight before he sagged against the wall. Not that very many parts of him were saggy at that moment.
Christ.
He had no clue what had come over him.
One second, the ticket agent with the shiny veneers and over-plucked eyebrows had her figurative claws dug into the visibly-wobbly Ginnie, the next Quinn was swooping in to rescue her. Like some asshole superhero, saving her from her own damned smart-mouth.
Yeah, and not two minutes after that, you were sucking that same smart-mouth right off her face.
Quinn suppressed an unexpected grin. Her mouth was hella smart. Quick and clever. He hadn’t been expecting that at all. Demure and well-mannered. That’s what her brother had called her. Quinn remembered it well, because he’d never heard the word demure used to describe an actual, living, breathing person. Ginnie was alive, no goddamned doubt about it.
And breathing…
Yeah, she’d been breathing all right. Panting, hot and heavy as she melted underneath his mouth.
Thank god he’d decided not to take the job.
Apparently, pleated skirts and button-down blouses were his asshole-superhero kryptonite.
Quinn shifted his mind to his usual type – his usual flavor, trying to remind himself again that he liked tight-ass jeans, cleavage all over the place, makeup just shy of screaming clown. Girls who weren’t embarrassed to admit they were after him for his reputation, body, or just a quick fuck. Even when he wasn’t willing to give it.
Two years.
That’s how long had gone by since he cut the last girl loose along with his assumed life, and truth be told, he hadn’t felt an urge to seek another. Not that he was a eunuch, but hell. Even his gratuitous viewing of some televised bikini contest last week hadn’t piqued his interest. Nothing had. Until this girl and her hot-and-cold routine.
If she hadn’t been a job, Quinn would’ve dragged her off – caveman style – to some dirty corner and shown her a hell of lot more of what she was missing by sending him packing.
His tongue flicked out irritably to tap the ring on his lip, and that didn’t help at all. Ginnie had practically devoured it, sucking on it to the point of exquisite pain.
Why hadn’t he stuck to his plan?
Just drop the phone at the goddamned counter and – oh, shit. The fucking phone.
He pulled it out of his pocket. It had gone completely out of his head. As he stared down at the ridiculously pink and sparkly case, the stupid thing started to ring, a jazzed up version of some eighties love song that made Quinn groan. How could he possibly be attracted to a girl who listened to that?
A woman standing nearby – and she was pushing ninety, Quinn could swear it – began to hum along with the tune. She waggled an eyebrow at him, and if he’d been the kind of man who got embarrassed, he sure as hell would’ve died of it just then. Luckily he was the shameless type instead, so he just slammed down on the answer button and waited.
Jase’s voice floated over the air. “G? You there? Hey, am I on speaker?”
“Not on purpose,” Quinn growled as he searched for the key that would switch the call back to handset mode.
He didn’t get to it quick enough.
“Quinn!” Jase hollered. “Why the fuck do you have Ginnie’s phone?! Jesus, can she hear me? G-dog?”
Finally, Quinn found the right button, gave it a smack and replied, “She can’t hear you, but the rest of the goddamned airport can.”
On the cue, the grey-haired granny nodded and winked.
Quinn smiled a toothy smile, and spoke to her instead of Jase. “Sorry. My boyfriend is a little uppity.”
“Boyfriend?” Jase yelled. “I’m not your – ”
Quinn held the phone away from his ear, and widened his grin, then added loudly, “Maybe more than a little.”
Granny gave him two thumbs up, and Quinn let out a real chuckle before bringing the phone back to his face.
“You’re an asshole,” Jase was saying.
“Is that a nice way to speak to your man?” Quinn countered.
“I have far better taste than that. Where’s my sister?”
“She dropped her damned phone in her drink. I picked it up to give it back. Thought it might be a nice icebreaker.”
“You weren’t supposed to talk to her at all.”
Too late, Quinn thought, but what he said was, “Doesn’t matter. She’s on the plane, I’m in the terminal, and I’m not finishing the job. She can buy a new phone in Vegas.”
There was a pause. “What?”
“I can’t do it, man. Sorry.” Quinn kept his voice even.
“Why not?”
Because you’re sister’s too fucking hot and just thinking about her makes me want to hang up the phone so I can – Quinn forced his mind up and out of the gutter. “Doesn’t suit me. Turns out I’m a terrible undercover bodyguard.”
“I’ll double your pay.”
It was Quinn’s turn to pause. Jase wasn’t paying him much, but Quinn didn’t really need the cash, either. His dual pension – hush money, he liked to call it – more than took care of his living expenses.
“What the hell is going on, Jase?” he demanded.
He heard the other man take a breath before he answered in a rush. “Her ex didn’t cancel the room reservations.”
Quinn narrowed his eyes. “And you know this because…?”
“Because I’m monitoring the asshat’s computer,” Jase snapped. “And yes, I’m well aware it violates my probation. But the dick deserves it.”
Quinn exhaled. He had no real obligation to report his friend’s illegal activities. It just pissed him off that a man who’d been out of jail less than twelve months was so willing to risk his freedom all over again.
“Are you there, Quinn?” Jase asked impatiently.
“Yeah. I don’t want your money.”
“At least get her the phone.” The other man was practically begging.
“No. I’m not going to chase after your sister just because her ex forgot to cancel a room. Hell, maybe she’ll get there and be able to use the room herself. Call it alimony.”
Jase sighed. “Listen, Quinn. Lawrence didn’t just forget to cancel. He upgraded and ordered a very expensive bottle of wine. Along with a few other…goodies. The man is going to be there, and he’s not going to be alone. If Ginnie walks in on that…it’ll destroy her. If she can’t reach out to me…”
Quinn felt an unusual squeeze in his heart. Apparently, the dick did deserve to be spied on. He also deserved a serious ass-kicking.
“Quinn?”
“You are one needy boyfriend, you know that right?”
“So you’ll do it?”
“Just the phone part.”
“Thank you.”
Quinn pressed the end call button, pocketed the phone again, then strode back toward the ticket counter. The last of the upper echelons of the plane clientele had just finished boarding.
Leila smiled at Quinn, those fake teeth glinting in the fluorescent light, and spoke to him like she’d never seen him before in her life. “General boarding begins in ten minutes, sir.”
What the actual hell?
“Yeah, I know.”
He waited for her to say something else, but she just stared back. Quinn gave in and spoke again.
“My girlfriend forgot her phone.” His heart beat weirdly as he said the G-w
ord. “Can you call her off so I can give it to her?”
Leila blinked, smile never wavering “I’m sorry, sir. Once a passenger’s ticket has been scanned and he or she’s on the plane, we’re not permitted to allow them to leave.”
Quinn rolled his eyes. “Fine. Can I get on the plane and give it to her myself?”
“Definitely not!”
Quinn forced himself to grin that sideways grin that always impressed girls but made him feel like a shitty Elvis impersonator.
“Definitely, definitely? Or just definitely?”
Leila’s smile faltered, just enough that her teeth disappeared for a minute. Then they reappeared.
“Sir, the only way for you to get on the plane is to buy a ticket.”
“I have a ticket,” he reminded her.
“For the next flight.”
Quinn didn’t bother pointing out that she’d just proved she remembered him. He just proffered the sparkly phone.
“If you won’t let me on…Could you give it her?”
Leila recoiled from the phone like it was a bomb.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Mcdavid. That’s strictly forbidden.”
“Lucky for both of us, forbidden is my second-favorite f-word,” he stated.
She wasn’t buying into his falsified charm any more than he’d bought into hers.
Quinn sighed. “Help me out here.”
“The only way to get your girlfriend her phone is to take it to her yourself,” Leila told him. “And the only way for you to get on this plane is to pay the fare difference between your ticket and the First Class one that’s available.”
“Jesus Christ,” Quinn muttered. “How much?”
She clacked away on her stupid keyboard for a minute, then smiled at him. This time it was a genuine one, and Quinn knew he was totally screwed.
“One thousand, two-hundred, forty-two dollars. And ninety-three cents,” Leila said, then added brightly, “I can waive the fifty dollar change fee.”
Well, shit. No wonder the seats up front had the extra goddamned legroom.
“You still have the original credit card on file?” Quinn managed to ask.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Another bright smile. “I do. But it’s for a Mr. Jason Silver. He would have to sign for it.”
Quinn’s teeth closed around his lip ring furiously. With a barely disguised snarl, he reached into his pocket and yanked out his coup-de-grace. A slightly flawed coup-de-grace, but a certain victory nonetheless. He slapped the leather case down on the counter, and Leila jumped back.
The badge on the counter glinted brighter than even her teeth would dare to do.
Why the hell he’d even brought the damned thing out of storage for this little trip was a mystery. Some weird compulsion to feel legitimate, maybe. Now, though, he was glad he had it.
Leila eyed it, then him, then it, and Quinn grabbed it up again before she could note that the wallet was that of a retiree. Then he shot her his own very real smile.
“You can charge Jason Silver for the ticket, or you can not charge him. I don’t care. Just let me on the damned plane so I can give my damned girlfriend her phone, or I’m going to throw your damned yoga-zumba-step-class-doing ass in airport jail. Please.”
Quinn had no idea if there was an airport jail or not, and he didn’t care. He was tired of playing nice.
“And Leila…I’m going to need my damned bag off the other plane, too.”
The ticket agent’s eyes had gone wide and her mouth was pinched. She banged hard on the keyboard once more.
“You’re clear,” she told him in a strangled voice, her face almost purple.
Quinn didn’t bother with a thank you; he strode past her onto the plane, walking so hard he nearly crashed directly into Ginnie in the flesh. She’d stopped at the curtain between First Class and Coach, and was staring at a couple who were sucking face in the front row of coach.
Quinn knew immediately why she was watching them.
The man – the asshat, the dick, the dirty sonofabitch – with his lips locked to the barely-legal girl with a shirt so low it showed nipple…was her husband. The man standing beside her in the photo Jase had given Quinn. There was no doubt about it. Somehow, the sleazebag had managed to bypass the priority boarding.
And Quinn only had one, run-together sentence of a thought as he worked his way toward Ginnie.
LetmeatthatmotherfuckersoIcanbreakhisface.
Five
Ginnie’s feet wouldn’t move.
Silently, she willed them to keep going. But they were disturbingly disobedient, apparently as transfixed by the scene if front of her as her eyes were.
Dr. Lawrence Michaels.
Stupid, sexy name.
Stupid perma-tan and perfect hair.
Stupid girl in his lap.
Twelve weeks had passed since she’d seen him last. And even then…It had been from across a boardroom. At the end of the longest table in the world. He’d had his four lawyers on his side. She’d had Jase – a furious look on his face – on hers. Both had acted as wall between them.
Now, she was close enough to touch him. To break through the bullshit restraining order he’d put into place when she tried to ask him why he really wanted to call off their life together. The only thing between them was the large-breasted, poofy-haired girl. She didn’t look anywhere near as formidable as his lawyers. In fact, she didn’t even look old enough to drink airplane champagne. Which was very likely the reason he hadn’t seated the two of them in First Class. That. And the fact that Ginnie was booked into the second-to-last available seat, of course.
Shit. Speaking of First Class…
She was going to have to go directly past Lawrence and Miss Barely-Eighteen just to get to her own seat. And her feet still wouldn’t cooperate.
Then two simultaneous, horrifying things happened.
Lawrence looked up and saw her.
And a bag fell from the overhead bin and knocked Ginnie in the head.
Ginnie honestly didn’t know which was worse. Which was more embarrassing. She only knew that she wanted nothing more than to sink into the hideous airplane carpet. Or maybe to vomit up all those gin and tonics from the airport bar.
Then another bag fell from above, making her stumble, and one of her heels got caught on the in-floor lighting track. And down she went. Her rear end hit the ground with a thud that was hard enough to bring tears to her eyes.
Ginnie shot her gaze heavenward and realized that four more bags, each as precariously balanced as the next, were poised and ready to rain down on her.
What were all those bags doing there, anyway? No had even boarded the plane yet.
But worse than that, when her eyes flicked back toward Lawrence, Ginnie saw that he’d extracted himself from the beauty queen’s arms, and was moving in her direction.
Please! Ginnie prayed. If there was ever a time to be smote…It’s now! God?!
Then, abruptly – thankfully – a warm hand found her elbow and pulled her both to her feet and out of the line of fire. And an already-too-familiar waft of subtle cologne hit her nose.
Quinn bloody Mcdavid, king of the lip ring.
“You okay, baby?” he asked.
Baby? Baby?!
It was worse than hun. Almost.
Ginnie opened her mouth to sputter out something about the fact that she was full-grown woman who did not appreciate the diminutive, but had to slam it shut again when she saw that Lawrence was just a step or two away. She refused to embarrass herself any further. She wriggled a little in an attempt to free herself from Quinn’s grasp so she could make her way through to First Class with as much dignity as possible. But the tattooed gorilla didn’t let her go. Just the opposite, in fact. His wide palm slid down her elbow to her forearm, and his other hand landed on her hip. He pulled her into him, then leaned down and spoke directly into her ear.
“Work with me here,” he said.
Work with h –
Ginnie’s
thought cut off as he spun her around and kissed the exact spot - on her head, not her rear end – where she’d bumped just a minute ago. He did it with perfect, believable tenderness. Then he tipped up her face and gave her lips the same attention.
This kiss was different than the one he’d claimed from her just a few minutes ago. Oh, it sent waves of heat through her in the same way. And it made light explode behind her eyes in the same way too. But it was far less urgent. Far less demanding. And unbelievably good.
The world slipped away from Ginnie as she sank into Quinn’s embrace. No. Sank wasn’t the right word. She melted. Swooned. And sweet tendrils of desire seeped from his lips to hers, then down through her chest and lower, pooling between her legs.
When he finally pulled away, Ginnie was trembling.
And her former husband was gawking at her.
“Thanks for coming to help her, man,” Quinn said, and clapped Lawrence hard on the shoulder. “But as you can see…I take good care of my baby all on my own.”
“Ginnie…” Lawrence trailed off, like he had no idea what to say.
Not that Ginnie could blame him; she was utterly speechless herself. Quinn though…He was full of it. And himself.
“You know this guy, baby?” he asked, an eyebrow raised like he couldn’t quite believe it. “Friend of your dad’s, or what?”
Lawrence’s mouth worked silently for a second before he blurted, “She’s my wife!”
Quinn’s eyes darted from Ginnie to Lawrence, and then his lips peeled back into an amused grin. “No shit. You married, baby? Sorry, man. Name’s Quinn. Guess she forgot to tell me about you last night when we were – ”
Ginnie finally recovered enough to reply. “No!” she protested, then took a breath and added coolly, “Not even close to married.”
And she slid her hand into Quinn’s and dragged him forward. When she reached the First Class section, she snapped the divider shut and rounded on him, unsure if she was about to shower him with thankful kisses, or if she was preparing to unleash a tirade on him. Either way, he beat her to the punch.
“You’re welcome,” he said smugly.
“My welcome?”
“I’m assuming that douchebag out there is your husband, even though you claimed otherwise. And I’m assuming that brunette isn’t his sister. So I’m pretty sure I just did you a big favor. So. Yeah. You’re welcome.”
Mile High Weekend (Opposites Attract Book 1) Page 3
