She reached under his shirt and pinched the skin above his waist. ‘If you call this a love handle, there’s something seriously wrong with you – but you have been eating everything edible you pick up.’
‘That’s probably why the cat has gone all Apocalypse Now. He licks his own dick. He probably knows how delicious he’ll taste with gravy.’
‘You’ll make yourself sick if you keep it up.’
He squeezed his arms around her and pressed his forehead to hers, closing her in against the sofa. The urge to let loose another giggle came and went, but the tickle remained as he kissed her.
It had been a good Christmas, her best in years. He’d arrived with three cloth shopping bags and unloaded in her kitchen. Christmas Eve had consisted of a hunt for the five-foot tree in the basement. They decorated it and watched a movie, then retreated to the bedroom for a bout of bed-shaking sex that put them both to sleep for the whole night. Late that morning Molly drank eggnog while Quinn followed along with a YouTube video in preparing his first-ever cheesecake, then drank some more while he switched to another video for chicken. She’d dozed off while the chicken roasted, and when she returned to the kitchen with sleep in her eyes he had created an impressive spread for a first attempt.
Full and still a bit buzzed, Molly would have been perfectly happy to be squashed with him on the sofa with soft kissing escalating quickly to a feverish make-out session, if only the doorbell hadn’t chimed.
Quinn lifted his head, and Molly returned his frown.
‘You didn’t hire a squad of carollers to sing on the doorstep, did you?’
‘I’ve got nothing to do with it.’
They scrambled to untangle, and the bell chimed again as Molly pulled her ponytail free to smooth out her hair. She glanced at Quinn as she stepped into the foyer and chuckled to herself as he reached once again into the can of Christmas candy on the coffee table.
Hand on the door handle, she peered through the bevelled glass and found herself staring back at green eyes like hers.
‘Oh, shit.’ She did a second rapid-fire check for signs of groping on her body, then pulled open the door. ‘What are you doing here?’
Her father stood on the rubber mat, a large wrapped package tucked under one arm. ‘Merry Christmas to you too.’
‘Of course. Merry Christmas. Come on in.’ She stepped aside and made way for his stocky frame to fit into the foyer.
He dropped the box on the floor and groaned as he righted himself, then held out his arms. The hug was long and suffocating, but she couldn’t enjoy it like she normally did when her father stopped by. Her nerves were as taut as a guitar string with the presence in the house of both her conservative father and her unusual lover.
‘I know you like to do this tomorrow, but I’m going to be on a beach by then,’ he told her as he adjusted his square glasses, but his explanation faltered in his mouth as he looked past her. ‘Hello there.’
Her whole body buzzed as she watched her father extend his hand towards the man standing in the archway behind her.
‘Ah, Dad, this is Quinn.’
Quinn grasped her father’s hand and offered his own greeting, adding, ‘Good to meet you.’
Molly felt fifteen again as she watched her father measure the strength of those three pumps Quinn gave him. One quick look down Quinn’s body and Leon Archer withdrew with a tentative but satisfied look. Quinn had obviously passed whatever first-glance criterion her father had set for the men in her life.
She gave Quinn a desperate look. ‘Can you see if you can get the gifts out from the back of the tree without getting your arm shredded? Dad, did you eat yet?’
In the kitchen, Molly fluttered around to fill a plate while her father told her what had prompted him to break the tradition of their Boxing Day brunch: his brother and sister-in-law had booked a vacation to Cuba for the new year and made him a gift of his own booking, and, like he’d said, he’d be on a beach the following day.
She popped the food in the microwave and peeked through the dining room to where Quinn was trying to coax the cat from the tree with one of the toys.
One look back at her father and her cheeks caught fire.
‘You’ve been keeping secrets,’ he teased her.
‘I haven’t had this secret long enough to keep it.’
‘Where’d he come from?’
‘Work.’ She would have let her explanation rest at that, but the enquiring tilt of her father’s brows prompted her to say more, and a half-truth poured out. ‘He’s a freelance consultant with a speciality in how to provide a satisfying experience. We had a chance to work together a little while ago and things just progressed from there.’
‘And now you’ve got him here for Christmas.’
‘Dad.’
‘Did you tell your mother?’
‘God, no, are you crazy? I wouldn’t even have told you if you hadn’t shown up on my doorstep.’
She gave her father a warning look as Quinn approached. He’d been scratched by the cat, and went straight to the roll of paper towel next to the sink.
‘That damn barn cat?’ her father asked, and Quinn gave Molly a curious look as he dabbed his bloody scratches.
‘I picked him up on the side of the road on the way back from Québec a few years ago.’
‘You’d think he’d be more grateful and less murderous,’ Quinn remarked.
Her father scarfed down his meal, quipping about Molly’s sudden culinary skill and then, when he found out Quinn had created the meal, teased her some more. He gently probed Quinn about himself as he took a dram of the spiced rum, picking up on the slight lilt of a Newfoundland accent and asking about his travels as a ‘consultant’ before turning his attention to Molly. He gave her the speaker dock she’d been hinting about, and in return she gave him the same premier membership to the auto club that she’d been giving him since she started working.
Once he’d gone with a promise to not wear a thong on the beach, Molly threw herself face-first onto the sofa and groaned.
‘I swear, I didn’t know he was coming by.’
‘I know. The look of panic on your face gave that away. He liked my food and didn’t hate me, so there’s that.’ Quinn sat on the floor next to her and pushed the curtain of hair out of her face. ‘By the way, “freelance consultant”?’
‘Well, you kind of are.’ She pushed up onto her elbows and looked at the small pile of presents under the tree. ‘You brought you all of them. Thank you.’
‘Yes, I did.’ He followed her gaze to the small box in the red wrapping paper and a silver bow that sat at the top. ‘I feel like a total shit for not getting you something.’
‘You spent all day in the kitchen making dinner, and that cheesecake is one of the best I’ve ever had, and you’re nice to my cat.’ She reached out and tickled the fluff of hair at the base of his neck. ‘Are you going to open it?’
With a disgruntled sound, Quinn rolled onto his knees and stretched to pick up the package. Molly made space for him on the sofa, then cuddled close as he gave the box a rattling shake.
‘Is it a month’s supply of batteries?’
‘That would be useful, but no.’
What was in the box was a replica of an Easter Island stone head made for an aquarium. It made Quinn laugh, and that made Molly laugh.
‘I don’t feel so bad now. I bought your cat a feather on a stick, and you bought my fish some aquarium bling.’
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her close, giving her a perfect whiff of the body wash that still clung to his skin. She burrowed in and breathed him in, and was happy in the quiet contentment of the moment. She felt it radiating from him in waves and closed her eyes.
The last time she’d felt this seemed like a century ago. To the best of her memory, it had been during a winter storm. She and Aaron had camped out on the sofa under a blanket. Even Scot had found his way into the warm huddle and was purring madly beneath the comforter. She’d only know
n about her pregnancy for a few weeks, but the sense of being complete had already set in.
She’d never thought she’d know that feeling again, but here with Quinn there was no denying it. There was belonging – comforting and scary all at once.
He gave her a quick squeeze. ‘I’ve got to ask you something, and my stomach will be in knots until I do.’
‘Hmm?’
‘I want to ask you about New Year’s Eve.’ Molly lifted her head and met his hesitant gaze. ‘Will you work with me?’
‘Are you serious?’
Molly sat up straight and chewed her lip, but couldn’t think of anything to say as he went on, with more than a little nervousness in his voice.
‘I’ve been building up to this for so long that I don’t want to pull the plug. It’s my last night and I want you there with me. I want to take you out for the night of your life before the job. You were a superstar with Simon, and you turned me into one that night. I want to watch you turn into that sharp-tongued little succubus again. I want to see that rush of adrenalin hit you over and over again while you just own the room and everyone in it.’
‘Wow,’ she said. ‘I have to admit, I was not expecting that at all.’
He set the mess of wrapping paper and tissue on the floor and took her hand. ‘I just want to light the whole world up that night, and I can’t do it without you. I don’t want to do it without you.’
Molly started to shake her head, but abandoned the gesture as chaos seethed beneath her skin. She hadn’t planned on a repeat of her night with Simon Reeve. As exciting as it had been, she was willing to put her brief career as a lady of the night on the same history page as her other naughty episodes, and looked forward to turning the page with Quinn. Her plans for his last night on the job were to take a sleeping pill and just go under until morning, when she’d wake up with him alongside her.
But he’d asked her, and she would do it. She’d been jumping blindly with him from the start, and she’d just keep doing it. She loved every moment, and as a smile took over her face she realised with a tingling rush that, even after just a few weeks, she loved him too.
‘I’ll do it,’ she said, laughing through her words as surprise flashed on his face. ‘Let’s do it.’
His look of surprise was replaced by deep lines of concern. ‘You’re really sure? That was a pretty quick answer.’
‘You asked, and now you want to talk me out of it?’
‘I want you to be sure. This won’t be like Simon. This will be an all-night thing, and it’ll be intense.’
‘Quinn, I want to do this.’ Molly rose on her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pressed herself against him and her lips to his unshaven cheek. ‘Let’s do it. Let’s give someone out there a night to remember.’
* * *
In all these weeks, she’d never been a part of this ritual. She’d seen the finished product emerge from the bathroom, the man in the Armani with the gelled hair and the scarred knuckles. She’d never watched the magic happen.
Spinning around Quinn’s orbit as she got herself ready for the evening, Molly had watched the scruffy beast she’d spent the day with become that perfect specimen. Whiskers vanished beneath a film of white lather; the clean smell of the generic white soap she used was masked by Givenchy; and then there was the armour – French cuffs and pressed shirt under a suit torn from the dry-cleaner’s wrap.
The tie was new. Or at least newish. He revealed as he pulled it out of the box that he had bought it on a weekend shopping excursion to New York City five years ago and kept it tucked away in a closet. He couldn’t say what it was that had drawn him to the tie, but when he’d held it in his hands he had felt something click inside him. This was the yoke he would loosen and discard on his last night on the job.
That she got to witness that moment touched her deeply, but there was one thing missing, something she had been keeping in her closet for the past few weeks. The right moment just hadn’t arrived yet.
‘You know, I haven’t done this in a very, very long time.’
She slid her gaze to the figure in the mirror behind her. Straightening that ruby-red tie, Quinn stood at least a head taller than she and was completely captivating.
He clearly hadn’t heard her as he finished straightening his tie. There was a distance in his eyes as he smoothed the fabric. His chest rose and his nostrils flared as he pressed his lips together and drew a deep breath. Then the spell broke, and he blinked at her reflection. ‘Sorry?’
‘I was just thinking how I haven’t done this in a long time – and before you say something smart, I mean getting dressed up to ring in the new year.’
‘What do you usually do on New Year’s Eve?’
‘I worked the last three. I figured I could stay home and stuff my face in front of the television, or I could be someone’s saviour and take the most hated shift of the year. It did wonders for my popularity with the staff, even if it was kind of pathetic.’
He slipped his hands onto her shoulders and looked over the top of her head. ‘And this year?’
‘I’m where I want to be,’ she said, and uncapped her lipstick. ‘What do you think? Too vampy?’
‘No, it’s the perfect shade. We’ll match.’
He was right. The colour she painted her lips with matched his tie. She pressed them together, then blew his doppelgänger a kiss.
‘So tell me about our client.’
‘Clients,’ he corrected, then ran his hands down her bare arms and linked his fingers with hers before pulling her into an embrace. ‘It’s a couple, actually.’
Molly started and was about to turn, but he held her in place. ‘Another woman? Quinn, this isn’t a good idea.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’ve never been with a woman, and I don’t want to be with a woman.’
He rested his cheek against her glossy, ironed hair. ‘You’ve never fantasised about it?’
‘Of course I have, but fantasy is one thing; actually having sex with another woman is another.’ She squirmed and succeeded in turning in his embrace. ‘I’m serious. I don’t want to sleep with a woman.’
‘You’ll be too busy entertaining her partner.’
‘I don’t want to watch you sleeping with another woman. I’m completely serious.’ She pressed her hands to his chest and drew a deep breath to chase away the panic. ‘Look, I know you think I’ve been strong these past few weeks but I have to be honest with you: I’m hanging by a thread. Knowing that you’re leaving me all the time to get into bed with another woman has been killing me. I get through it because I don’t think about it, but if you make me watch –’
‘Do you trust me?’
Her mouth hung open, and unspoken words refused to leap. She shut her mouth and fought for the breath his question had stolen from her. ‘Of course I trust you. That’s got nothing to do with it.’
‘It has everything to do with it,’ he said softly, and folded her into his embrace.
Oh, his warmth made it hard to argue with him. She rested her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes.
‘When you and I first met, really met, you gave me your trust without question,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m asking you to do that now. You won’t do anything you don’t want to, Molly, but I need you to trust me.’
I can’t, she thought, but she didn’t mean it.
She trusted him completely. He was her Quinn, and she knew he wouldn’t make her do anything she didn’t want to.
‘If I let you down, you can punch me in the nuts.’
Molly wrapped her arms around his waist and clung to him as dizzying laughter poured out. ‘I won’t punch you in the nuts. I like your nuts. I’ll punch you in the throat.’
‘Deal.’ He pulled her away and looked down upon her, the admiration in his eyes making her ticklish all over. ‘You really do look beautiful tonight.’
‘So do you,’ she whispered, and tilted her head back as he leaned down.
He
paused and cocked his head. ‘That lipstick doesn’t stain, does it?’
‘It better not, for what I paid for it.’
As she slipped her arms around his neck, Molly closed her eyes. His kiss was soft and loving, and she knew, as this remarkable thing between them wrapped them together like silk bindings, that the time had come.
She trusted him. She’d trust him with her life if he asked it, and whatever happened tonight she would trust him.
She nudged him away and smiled. ‘I have something for you.’
Her nerves quaked as her freshly pedicured feet padded across her bedroom’s bare laminate floor. Part of her worried that he’d be offended, but she didn’t think so, especially now that he had involved her in his life’s milestone. She’d wrapped the package in the least festive Christmas paper she could find in her cache, dark-green with a pattern of white trees and woodland creatures, and topped it with a white bow.
She held it out to him and smiled at his expression. It was like his face didn’t know whether to be annoyed or touched.
‘Just take it,’ she urged him, and when he did she tucked her hands behind her back.
‘I wish you hadn’t,’ he muttered, and tore into the wrapping. He hesitated, hand hovering over the top of the small box. He looked at her.
‘It’s just a little something.’
His lips twitched, leaping from a scowl to a boyish twist in an instant. He opened the box, and his brows went up.
‘That is spectacular.’
Molly bounced on her toes. ‘Do you like it?’
He reached into the box and pinched the gold chain in his fingers, then drew the pocket watch from its satin bed. His smile was at full force now.
‘I love it.’ He rested the watch in his hands and opened the lid of its case. ‘Very cool.’
‘It’s not gold, just brass.’
‘I don’t care. Wait, is that – you had it inscribed.’ He peered at the writing etched on the inside of the lid. ‘Roads go ever ever on.’
‘Recognise it?’
‘It’s vaguely familiar.’
‘It’s from The Hobbit. I noticed you had three copies in your reading nook, so I thought if I was going to go with the inscription, I should earn myself some cred and indulge your inner book nerd.’
Holding My Breath Page 19
