“You’ve got my keys,” she said.
“Oh, right.” He dug them out of his pocket where he’d put them without thinking and handed them over. Their fingers brushed against each other in the exchange and every muscle in his body felt the effect. Their gazes met and the air between them buzzed with awareness. Keeping his hands to himself where Bailey was concerned felt like torture.
He swallowed, and just as he was about to force himself to break the moment, she leaned forward, stretched up and did the last thing he expected.
She kissed him.
Hallelujah! screamed his libido. It would be so easy to succumb to Bailey’s lips, lift his hands to her breasts and get lost in the moment, but she wasn’t in the right frame of mind. Again, he remembered her look of horror when their doctor had mentioned intimacy.
Summoning every inch of willpower he possessed, he tore his mouth from hers and took a step back, holding his hands out and putting distance between them. “You don’t want to do that,” he said.
Her eyes wide, she nodded, then reached out, grabbed a chunk of his shirt and tried to pull him back toward her. “Yes, I do,” she said. “I just want to feel something other than anxiety for the twins for a few moments. Please, Quinn. Come inside and distract me. You heard what Dr. Mackie said—this won’t hurt them. And I need it.”
But what about me? While his body was one hundred percent behind this plan to distract their heads from the pain and worry, he wasn’t going to get physical with her unless she was offering more than just sex. He wanted more from life, more from Bailey, more for himself.
He would do almost anything for this woman, but he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t allow Bailey to use him for his body, for oblivion, and then toss him to the curb again. He wasn’t going to be something she regretted ever again.
“No.” Quinn shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets, refusing to succumb to her tempting offer. He knew that if she’d been thinking straight, she would not have propositioned him and that knowledge gave him the strength to resist.
“No?” Bailey blinked and shook her head slightly, her shock at his refusing sex obvious. “What? Am I not attractive enough for you now? Come on, Quinn, we both know you’re not that choosy. I need this.”
Her words wounded like no physical assault ever had—she might be emotional and not in the right frame of mind, but still her low opinion of him hurt like hell.
“I think you’re the sexiest woman alive—you could be covered in mud and wearing trash bags, and I’d still want to be with you, but unless you can tell me you won’t regret this tomorrow, I can’t do it. I love you, Bailey Sawyer. I had never told any woman I love her until I told you. I did not say it lightly or because I thought it was what you wanted to hear, and it kills me that you don’t believe me. But I won’t make love to you unless you believe in us as much as I do.” He paused, then asked, “Do you believe, Bailey?”
She glanced down at the ground, and when she looked back up after a few long moments, he could see her answer. “I want to...”
The but hung unspoken in the air like a knife twisting in his heart.
“I’ve made plenty of mistakes where you’re concerned,” he told her, already retreating, “and this isn’t going to be another one.”
Walking away from Bailey—even though Quinn knew it to be the right thing—wasn’t getting any easier to do. He walked fast, fearful that if he slowed down he might lose his resolve and go back. His libido definitely wanted him to.
As he rounded the parking lot he remembered he’d left his transport in Bend.
He kicked the cement beneath his feet and ran a hand through his hair. The last thing he felt like doing right now was calling Mac to come pick him up and having to answer his inevitable questions, so he started to jog in the direction of home. He could worry about his SUV tomorrow and hopefully the physical exertion would help him de-stress a little.
He was halfway there when a vehicle slowed alongside him; he didn’t look up but just kept on pounding the sidewalk.
“When did you take up jogging?” Annabel called, and Quinn cursed his bad luck. Of all the people who could have been driving past, it had to be a member of his family.
“About two minutes ago,” he called back, without slowing.
“Can I suggest you buy a better pair of shoes and maybe some shorts? In my experience, jogging in jeans is always tricky.”
The words can I suggest you leave me the hell alone were on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them. She was right—he wasn’t dressed for exercise and he did need to collect his car. He slowed to a stop and walked over to her.
“Where are you off to?” he asked, resting his hands on the open window.
“Just coming home from work. What about you?”
He opened the passenger-side door and climbed in. “It’s a long, boring story, which ends with me needing to collect my car from Bend. Want to give me a lift, little sis?”
She sighed. “Sadly, that is the best offer I’ve had all day.” Then she turned the car back onto the road. “Hey, wasn’t Bailey’s ultrasound today? How was it?”
Quinn swallowed and shifted in his seat. “Not that great, actually. The scan showed that one of the babies isn’t growing as well as the other. They think they’re suffering from something called twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome.”
“That doesn’t sound good. What does it mean?”
He explained as much as he knew, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice.
“So one baby is taking nutrients from the other?” Annabel said. “Sibling rivalry already.”
He knew she was trying to make him feel better, but he wasn’t in the mood for lighthearted quips.
“What can they do about this transfusion thing?” she asked after a few moments of silence.
“We’re going to see a doctor who specializes in TTTS, so we’ll know more about it soon. Bailey’s ob-gyn thinks she’s only in stage one of the syndrome, but we’re going to see a specialist to manage it.”
“Is it dangerous?
“It can be,” Quinn said, his chest squeezing again at the thought of anything happening to Bailey or the babies.
“How’s she handling it?”
He thought of the way she’d thrown herself at him less than half an hour ago. “Not that great.”
Annabel glanced his way and frowned. “Then why aren’t you with her? Taking care of her?”
His fingers curled, making his hands into fists. “You don’t think that’s where I want to be? This is tearing me apart as well, but Bailey won’t let me close.” Well, not in the way he wanted her to. “She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“And how do you feel about her?” Annabel spoke calmly as if she were asking about the weather, not about his whole world.
“I love her, dammit.”
Annabel grinned as if she was very much enjoying this conversation. “And I assume you’ve told her this.”
“Of course I have, but she doesn’t believe me. She thinks I’m only with her because of the babies.”
“So what are you going to do about that?” she asked.
“What can I do about it? If you have any smart ideas, I’m all ears.”
“You have to prove it to her. Do something she’d never expect you to do to show your love.”
“Like what?”
She shrugged. “I’m a firefighter, not a love doctor. That, my dear brother, is up to you to work out.”
Chapter Fourteen
Bailey’s whole body burned, from her toenails to the tips of her ears, as Quinn stormed off. He couldn’t get away from her fast enough. Her chest heaved and her lips buzzed from their brush with his only moments before. She must look even worse than she thought for him to turn down the opportunity of a qui
ckie!
Fumbling to get the key in her door, she pushed it open, not wanting to risk one of her neighbors coming along and seeing her in this mortifying state. She stepped inside, slammed the door behind her and then leaned back against it, her heart still hammering. Had he really just brushed her off? He, who’d been more than happy to oblige the last time she’d needed to forget about her problems. And that was all she wanted now—a few moments to focus on something else.
Was he punishing her? Was not taking her to bed payback for all the things she’d done to him? For dithering over telling him about her pregnancy, for ruining his favorite jacket, for finding out about the babies’ sexes behind his back? She hurled her keys across the hallway, which knocked a vase off the side table. As it crashed to the floor and broke into a zillion pieces, she cursed Quinn’s name.
Because of him, she would be alone tonight, with nothing to do but worry about twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome. As a sob escaped her mouth, she bent down to pick up the big pieces of glass. After struggling to get up, she went into the kitchen, dumped them there and glanced around for her dustpan and brush to clean the rest of the mess. Her gaze caught on the glass Quinn had used that night he’d made her a milk shake and propositioned her about his Mom’s party. The first of his many, many lies.
Her thumb throbbing, she glanced down and noticed she’d cut herself on the vase. Dammit, she shoved her bleeding thumb into her mouth and went into the bathroom to get a Band-Aid. As she retrieved her little first aid kid, she was struck with déjà vu. The last time she’d been tending to a cut it had been Quinn’s finger that was bleeding. Her stomach tightened at the recollection.
Everything was a memory of him. And no matter how hard she’d tried to forget these last couple of weeks, she couldn’t erase his declaration of love from her head.
He was a charmer alright, she thought as she wrapped a plaster around her thumb just a little too tightly.
The way he bandied around the L-O-V-E word, trying to manipulate her into doing parenthood his way, made her sick. She knew that not sleeping with her was simply another form of controlling her. But as mortifying as what had just happened was, it was a good thing he’d turned her down. Imagine if she’d let him into her bed, into her body and into her heart again. She was a fool to think she could sleep with him and keep her emotions separate.
With that thought, Bailey went into her bedroom and crawled into bed, trying not to think about how large and empty it felt without him in it. She knew she needed to eat for the babies’ sake, but right now she just wanted to rest. The stress of the afternoon had compounded her tiredness—maybe if she just had a little nap, she’d wake up with a clearer head, be able to feed herself and then maybe even send Quinn a quick message apologizing for overstepping the boundaries she’d instigated.
* * *
Bailey awoke to the buzzing of her mobile on her bedside table. As she rolled over and stretched to pick it up, she frowned at the bright sun blaring in through her curtains. When she’d climbed into bed, it had been heading towards dusk and...
Good grief, how long have I slept?
Seeing her mom’s name on caller ID, she sighed and put the phone back down. It stopped ringing, only to strike up again a few seconds later. She groaned, not in the mood to talk to her mother, but knowing that if she didn’t pick up, Marcia would keep on calling, or worse, come over and let herself into the apartment with the spare key Bailey had stupidly given her.
Reluctantly she answered the call and lifted the phone to her ear. “Hi, Mom.”
“Did you know about Quinn?” Marcia demanded.
Bailey blinked, still half-asleep. “What about him?” And then she realized she must have heard wrong and that Quinn must have told his mom about the TTTS and Nora had told Marcia. As upset as she’d been last night, she hadn’t even thought to call and tell her herself.
“That he’s Aunt Bossy—you know, the newspaper advice columnist? She’s Quinn McKinnel.”
“What?” Bailey sat up in bed, suddenly wide-awake. “How do you know that?” He’d sworn she was the only person aside from him and his old friend who knew.
“The announcement is on the newspaper’s Facebook page. Elle just saw it and she showed me.”
“What announcement?” she asked, her heart picking up speed.
“Go online and read it for yourself. I must admit, I’m shocked—I’ve been reading Aunt Bossy for years and I’d never in my wildest fantasies have suspected she was Quinn. It makes me look at him in quite a different light—he’s offered some good advice over the years, and now...”
Bailey didn’t hear any more of what her mom had to say. She’d probably get a lecture later for hanging up on her mother, but right now she didn’t care.
Less than ten seconds later, her hand was shaking as she held her phone and read Quinn’s letter to the world:
A CONFESSION FROM AUNT BOSSY
It has been a privilege and honor to receive your letters over the past years and to offer you what I hoped were words of wisdom. I’m not sure who you thought was answering your letters or if you even cared—I hope that I’ve helped you solve some of life’s dilemmas, but I’m here to tell you that if I have, it was a total fluke.
I am an advice columnist fraud.
For a start, the picture of Aunt Bossy is of an elderly female, whereas I am a twenty-seven-year-old male living in Jewell Rock. I’ve never been married, divorced or widowed; I’ve not been in a dispute with my neighbors or sexually harassed by my boss; I haven’t even owned a pet; and I’m not a father, although that soon will change. Until recently, I had never even been in love.
Since we’re being totally honest, I’ll admit that I didn’t even believe in love. I thought it was a fairy tale, a nice myth that made movies box-office hits but wasn’t at all grounded in reality.
I became Aunt Bossy on a friend’s dare, but the truth is I can’t even solve my own life issues, so it was a huge audacity to think I could ever hope to fix anyone else’s.
My name is Quinn McKinnel and this time I need your help. If you can forgive me for misleading you, and if I have ever offered you any useful advice, I ask that you please consider helping me with my dilemma.
You see, there’s this girl who means the world to me—her name’s Bailey Sawyer. I’ve always had the hots for her, even when circumstances meant I really shouldn’t. She’s without a doubt the best-looking woman on the planet, but she does so much more than turn me on physically. Bailey is warm and kind and funny, she’s clever and organized, and it’s pure joy to converse with her. She’s having my babies, but even if she wasn’t, I’d want to be with her. When we’re together, I feel more like myself than I ever have before, the world feels as it should be. When we’re apart, I think about her constantly and can’t wait until I see her again.
But here’s what I’ve learned about love. It can hurt like nothing else and it can make you feel more helpless than anything else ever can. Right now my heart is breaking more than I ever knew it could, because the woman I love, the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, doesn’t believe me.
It’s my fault—I’ve done some stupid, stupid things to her in the past, but I would do anything to be able to take them back, to have a do-over and to be able to prove to Bailey Sawyer that I love her and want to spend the rest of my life making her happy.
By the time she’d finished reading, tears were streaming down Bailey’s face. Her phone started ringing again.
“Mom,” she answered. “I can’t talk right now. Please, give me some time.” And then she disconnected and read the letter one more time.
Quinn was going to get a hell of a lot of flak over this letter—she could just imagine the teasing and the jokes that would keep his friends and family in hysterics for some time. Blair and Mac especially would dine out on this for the rest of their day
s. But even more than that, now that this confession was out in the public sphere, he’d probably have to give up his role as Aunt Bossy—a role that he was strangely good at, and one that she now knew he enjoyed.
What on earth had possessed him to do such a thing?
Somewhere in the back of her head a little voice piped up. Love, Bailey. He did it because he loves you.
Confused, she flopped back against the pillows and thought back to last night when he’d told her he wouldn’t have sex with her unless she believed in them like he did.
Her heart jolted as realization struck.
He hadn’t said have sex, he’d said make love!
He’d said make love instead of sleep together or have sex or that other coarse word he could have used to describe what she’d been offering. Bailey closed her eyes as she remembered the reverent tone he’d used and the hurt she’d seen in his eyes. She’d been too shocked, too angry and humiliated, to take notice of his pain, but she could suddenly see it for what it was.
Absolutely raw, painfully real.
He’d been standing before her in that same gorgeous body he’d always had, but there’d been something different about him. He was no longer trying to charm the pants off her. Instead, he was opening up and telling her how he felt.
And she’d thrown it all back in his face.
She clutched her phone with Quinn’s confession against her chest. Could she dare to believe that he truly did love her? Could she dare to believe he would love her even if she wasn’t pregnant with his babies? She’d burned his jacket, she’d purposely forgotten to tell him about an ultrasound and then found out the babies’ sexes without him being there, she’d avoided him like he was an infectious disease, yet he’d still tried to connect with her, still sent her daily messages to check on her and still said he wanted her.
He wanted her so much that he wouldn’t take advantage of her emotions and sleep with her. And he wouldn’t let her take advantage of him. She knew then that if he didn’t love her, he would have slept with her. He’d have been more than happy to oblige.
Pregnant by Mr. Wrong Page 17
