A Risk Worth Taking

by Victoria James

  She tucked a strand of messy hair behind her ear. “It’s, um, good to be back.”

  He gave a short nod. “If you need anything, you know you can call me anytime, right?”

  Holly nodded slowly. “Of course, thanks.”

  He cleared his throat, and for a second a look of discomfort crossed his face. “I also never got to finish explaining about Christine that night,” he said.

  “You don’t owe me an explanation,” she whispered, even though she wanted one. But she didn’t want to go down that road. A logical explanation that would make them connect and take them from old friends to…

  …

  Quinn fought the urge to reach out and touch her. Standing in front of him, with her hair all messy and dusty, her cheeks flushed, she was the most appealing woman he’d ever known. Mix that with a mouth that was so damn kissable and a body that had his mind wandering to all the things he’d love to spend an afternoon doing with her, he was finding it difficult to concentrate.

  So many things had been left unresolved between them, and he didn’t like it. Until Holly came back, his life was black and white. Simple. He didn’t do complicated—and Holly was the epitome of complicated.

  Since he’d left that night after holding Ella, he’d been tempted to drive over here and explain everything. Holly deserved the truth. As much as he hated talking about it, she deserved the truth from him. He owed her. But now he was up here flirting with her.

  The memory of Holly as a teenager was achingly sweet. Her grandparents had been wonderful people. As they aged, he and his brothers would come by to help out with odd tasks here and there. Quinn had really gotten along with her grandfather. And Holly had been the apple of her grandfather’s eye.

  During her teen years, Holly would always find excuses to hang around him, and he’d indulged her. But when she turned seventeen, something began to change in their relationship. Their conversations had turned deeper, and he found himself enjoying her company more than he should have—he was attracted to her. An undercurrent had started. At first barely noticeable, but then, month by month, it grew in force, until Quinn had to distance himself. He was too old for her and it didn’t feel right. They were seven years apart, and he was a man, and she a young girl. Now, the age difference didn’t matter much. But when she was eighteen to his twenty-five, it seemed like worlds apart.

  Quinn stared at Holly, unable to get the image of her on the doorstep the night before she left for school out of his mind. He remembered everything: the soft curve of her lip, the smell of her hair, of her skin. And he’d never forget the briefest taste he’d had of her. Before he’d come to his senses.

  “Hey, Quinn!” A loud voice boomed from below. Jake. Quinn grit his teeth. Holly broke eye contact with him, and he backed up a few steps. Quinn sighed, his eyes leaving hers, and he walked over to the doorway slowly.

  “What?” Quinn called down impatiently. Holly joined him at the top of the stairs as Jake opened the door.

  “You, uh, might want to come to the en suite and see this,” Jake said, his eyes darting from his to Holly’s. Crap. He knew exactly what this was going to be about.

  Quinn turned to give Holly a quick and what he hoped was a casual smile, before turning to his brother. “Sure, be down in a second,” he said. Jake gave him a nod and walked away.

  “I’m coming, too,” Holly said in that huffy tone she used when she thought she was being excluded from a decision in the renovation. It was a tone he heard at least once a day.

  His back stiffened as he paused on the last step. “No need, I’ve got it.”

  “No, I insist, especially since I’m the only designer here and the owner of the house.”

  He swallowed the curse at the tip of his tongue. Amazing that he could go from turned on to irritated in about two minutes.

  He sighed, his hand on the doorknob as he turned around to face her. “Somehow, I don’t think this is going to be a design issue.” If this was what he thought it was, having Holly around was going to be a disaster.

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said, following him down the stairs.

  “Fine. You may want to change your shirt first, though,” Quinn said with a grin at her infuriated expression. Perfect, that should buy him a few minutes. He walked down the stairs and almost tripped as he realized the laugh was on him, considering how good that shirt looked on her. And that just a mere few seconds ago he’d been thinking about how he’d like to peel that shirt off of her.

  Quinn whipped open the door, then strode down the hallway and through the master bedroom to get to the en suite. It had been Holly’s idea to add an adjoining washroom to the principal bedroom, and he had to admit it would be a major selling point for today’s buyer.

  “The guys took down the ceiling in here and, uh, came across this,” Jake said as Quinn stood in the doorway of the gutted room. Quinn looked up and cursed loudly. Holly was going to freak if she walked in here. Maybe he could shut the door and deal with it himself.

  “So what’s up?” Holly called out, sounding close by. Quinn almost jumped. How the hell had she made it down here so fast? He didn’t turn around, hoping that he was blocking enough of the doorway that she wouldn’t be able to get in.

  She poked him on the shoulder. He turned his head slowly, trying to come up with something that would make her actually listen to him.

  “Nothing’s up. Everything’s fine and under control,” he said, lying blatantly through his teeth.

  Holly’s eyes narrowed.

  He tried to maintain eye contact and wished he were a better liar or she were less astute.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” she said in a stern voice.

  “You’re toast,” his brother mumbled under his breath. Quinn ignored him.

  “Holly.” He sighed. She tried to sidestep him, but he blocked her path. He felt like he was in the second grade again as he crossed his arms and stood firm.

  She frowned at him again. “Why are you acting like a bully?”

  Quinn ignored the muffled laughs he heard coming from the guys inside the bathroom. His brother’s was the loudest. He needed to get Jake to a new job site. Quinn shook his head. “I’m not. There’s nothing to see. Let’s go—”

  “I’m not going anywhere except in there,” Holly said, ducking under his arm.

  “Don’t look up,” Quinn called out harshly.

  Chapter Five

  Of course, up was the first place she looked.

  And almost lost her lunch. Everything stopped. Breath, thought, motion. And then self-preservation kicked in and she backed right out. Into the hard wall that happened to be Quinn. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her.

  Don’t lose it, Holly. Just keep cool. Breathe. Do what a normal person would do if they walked into a room, looked up, and saw that there were at least a dozen or so dead mice trapped between the pink insulation and the clear plastic vapor barrier. She tried taking a deep breath. There just wasn’t any air to breathe. And even if there was any available oxygen, it was surely contaminated by the dead-mouse air.

  Holly looked up again, then squeezed her eyes shut. Then she felt Quinn’s hands on her shoulders. Large, confident, strong. The exact opposite of how she felt at the moment.

  “So, I see there’s a little bit of a problem here?” Holly managed to croak, opening her eyes. She thought she sounded pretty convincing. Except that everyone’s eyes went over hers to look at Quinn. She wasn’t going to turn around and let him see her face, which she was sure was extra “blotchy.”

  “It’s a minor issue,” Quinn said, his voice rough, the squeeze he gave her shoulders extremely gentle. “We’ve got two choices. We can leave things as is, put the ceiling back up, or we can get into the attic, rip out all of the insulation, then re-insulate.”

  “Yup. That. Rip everything out,” Holly said, nodding frantically and waving her arms. Like really, was there a choice?

  “Holly, these mice have been dead for years. If you’re going to se
ll the place anyway, why don’t we just put the ceiling back up and not deal with it? Dead mice aren’t going to hurt anyone,” Jake said.

  “Get rid of it, Jake,” Quinn said, his breath rustling against her hair.

  “That means at least another few days of work���”

  “Just do it.” Quinn sighed.

  Jake frowned and then peered up at the ceiling. “And I don’t even know how much it will cost—”

  “Doesn’t matter. Oh, what’s that noise? I think I hear my cell phone,” Holly said in a high-pitched voice that hurt her own ears and ducked under Quinn’s arm. She did her fastest walk short of a run from of the room and flew down the stairs.

  Holly banged open the screen door with the palm of her hand and burst onto the empty front porch. Her house was filled with mice. Dirty little mice that just appeared out of nowhere. Without warning. And she had been about to lose it until she felt Quinn’s hands on her. The imprint of Quinn was still on her back. It was as though she’d backed into a wall. Except the wall had been alive and breathing and hot. Comforting, electrifying, and tempting all in one. For the briefest of seconds, before pride had brought her back to reality, she had wanted to accept the comfort she felt, that she knew was being offered, as his strong hands had squeezed her shoulders.

  The vibration of her phone in her pocket reminded her that she’d left Claire hanging earlier. When she pulled out her phone and glanced at the Caller ID, she noticed it wasn’t Claire—it was The Martin Group. More specifically, Daniel. This was the longest she’d ever gone without thinking about her job. She hadn’t thought about it in days. She hadn’t thought about her clients, the projects she’d put on hold, the color in the Thorntons’ front foyer. It was one o’clock in the afternoon, when she’d typically be in her office, drinking a giant latte and going over designs at her desk.

  The vibration of the phone in her hand was relentless. Holly took a deep breath. “Hey stranger,” she answered, trying to sound engaged.

  “Hey there, Holly. How’s it going?” Daniel’s deep voice made her smile. Of all her colleagues, she and Daniel had clicked from the beginning. That had eventually led to them dating briefly. She leaned against the railing and looked out onto the front yard.

  “Good. Great. I just found out the house is filled with rodents, but other than that, everything’s moving ahead of schedule,” she said, almost smiling as Daniel laughed on the other end of the phone.

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it. Listen, Holl, I’m calling because the Thorntons wanted to bump up the start date on their vacation property, and since you’re not going to be back in time”—he coughed—“Martin asked me to take it over.”

  Holly’s stomach churned. Wow. That was fast. She had spent countless hours with the Thorntons, getting to know them, wining and dining them, all in an effort to secure them as clients. And now…she was gone from work for barely three weeks and they were being handed to Daniel? On a rational level she knew, of course, that if they wanted to get started on a new project, Martin had to keep them happy. And yes, she hadn’t thought about them in weeks, but that didn’t mean that when she was back at work they wouldn’t receive top priority. But still… Panic started slowly swirling. Taking a leave of absence from work had felt like the only option. Martin had been gracious in allowing her to do this, and he knew that Holly had never taken a sick day until Jennifer and Rick. But her career was still everything. And she needed that job. The sale of this house would secure Ella’s future. But her salary was what they were going to live off of. And she wasn’t going to throw away her career. Holly looked down at her chipped fingernails, her running shoes, jeans… Talk about a different life…

  “Holly, you still there?” She could hear the worry that laced his voice. What was she supposed to say?

  Holly cleared her throat. “Of course, I am. I’m totally okay with that, Daniel, good luck. They’re a little on the demanding side.”

  “Thanks, sweets. I met with them this morning and they seemed reasonable and anxious to get started.”

  He had already met with them? “Great. Well, good luck.”

  He sighed. “Holly, you’re not mad are you?”

  “Mad? Why would I be mad?” she asked, trying to sound casual. No, she wasn’t mad.

  “Okay, good. Hey, we’re all looking forward to your big party. Martin mentioned it this morning, so be sure to text the details, okay?”

  The open house that she was planning would be a celebration and a strategic move, a great way to showcase her work on the renovation. She knew her friends would make the two-hour drive for her, and Martin would remember why he loved her designs. She’d quickly be back in their good graces.

  “Sure. Good luck, Dan,” Holly said, ending the call without waiting for his reply. Her eyes rested on Quinn’s truck parked at the top of her driveway. And inevitably she thought of the differences between Quinn and Daniel. She knew it wasn’t fair to compare, and it wasn’t as if she was with either man. She had ended things with Daniel before they barely even began. And if she were honest with herself, she knew the real reason was because of the man inside her grandparents’ house—the one that made her feel like if there was anyone she’d ever let in, it would be him.

  …

  Quinn raced down the stairs. Holly was going to be the death of him. Of course she had to look up. And even though he knew it was stupid, and it really was her own fault for not listening to him, he felt bad for her. He’d never admit it to her, but Holly being afraid of something was a bit of a shock. After stopping to ask someone if they’d seen her, he made his way out to the front porch. Sure enough, there she was, her back to him, staring straight ahead at the damp yard littered with fallen leaves.

  “Hey,” he whispered, standing beside her, anxious to see the expression on her face.

  “Hi,” she said, looking up at him and then away. He noticed she was holding her phone in her hands.

  “Everything okay?” he asked cautiously.

  She nodded. “It was just work,” she said, her voice sounding heavy. He didn’t really know much about her work other than that she was an interior designer. He couldn’t forget that, since she kept reminding him every time he offered his opinion on the renovation.

  “They surviving without you?” he asked, imagining what Holly would be like in an office. She probably ran the damn place. And she was undoubtedly a workaholic. He liked thinking of Holly as successful and in control, fulfilling the dreams she’d left for. But the more he hung around her, the more he was beginning to see she was also an expert at denial. Seeing her hurt or scared stirred him. It made him wish he could step up and take care of her.

  She crossed her arms. “The team at Martin Laurence has no problem going on without me.”

  “The Martin Laurence?”

  “Yup,” she said with a half smile.

  He felt proud of her. Hell, if she worked for the country’s top firm, she was obviously doing great. “I had no idea you worked for him.”

  “Yeah. I started as an intern and then worked my way up. Really it just boiled down to a lot of long days and nights working my butt off trying to impress him until he made me a senior designer.” He wasn’t surprised she was senior designer at her age, but it also made him wonder if the idea he’d been contemplating would be remotely interesting to her at all. Martin Laurence was an entirely different type of environment than what he was planning on offering her.

  “I’m sure it’s more than that. You’re really young to have a position like that,” he said, watching her closely. The smile that emerged on her face as she looked up at him was so damn cute and mischievous that he felt himself smiling back, without even knowing what she was going to say.

  “Well, I know to you I must seem very young, but really, twenty-eight isn’t all that young,” she said, rolling back on her heels.

  Quinn threw his head back and laughed, wondering how the hell she could do that to him. He loved that she laughed along.
And he loved how she laughed. It was natural and feminine and just about as intoxicating as the woman herself. And when he looked at her again, when the laughter subsided, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her. And hold her. And take care of everything.

  “So, how long till that situation is dealt with?”

  Quinn pictured her in that tight T-shirt again. And then remembered the way she had fit so nicely against him upstairs, her back and the curve of her bottom fitting so sweetly against him. Really, was there an end to their situation? The only ending he saw to this was the both of them taking care of the unfulfilled desire between them. The problem with that plan was that sleeping with Holly would only bring on a thousand more complications. And then she’d leave—for good.

  “Quinn?”

  He looked over at her. Her eyebrows were raised and she was waiting expectantly. Right. “The mice?” he asked, hoping that’s what she had asked about.

  She nodded rapidly.

  “I didn’t know you were so afraid of mice.”

  Holly was shaking her head. “Me? No, no, I’m not afraid of mice—” she said, her hands flying to her chest, and he refused to think how his hands would be much better there. He groaned inwardly. None of this was going as planned. He had come here today, coffees in hand, to try to explain the whole Christine thing. But instead he’d gotten caught up with Holly and her crush on him and had behaved like a schoolboy flirting with her. All it had taken was her wearing a tight T-shirt and he’d lost all direction. And then there was the mouse drama. Now he was out here on the porch, still nowhere near to discussing what he originally had intended. And those coffees were sitting cold in the attic—that was infested with mice. How the hell she had missed the black-box mouse traps up there, he had no idea. Quinn yanked on his tie as he looked at her standing there all huffy. He should really leave—for the rest of the day.

  “Holly, why can’t you admit you’re afraid of something?” he asked, trying to filter the exasperation from his voice.