The Ramseys Boxed Set

by Altonya Washington

  ~~~

  Quest experienced momentary optimism following his talk with Quay. Sadly, it slowly evaporated when he’d called Mick’s home only to be told she wasn’t there and hadn't returned after leaving Seattle. Michaela Sellars had been slowly driving him insane and it terrified him. Of all the women he’d known, she had somehow slipped past the walls guarding the part of his heart he’d deemed inaccessible. He hadn’t even realized she was so deeply implanted into his heart- into his being- until he was without her.

  ***

  Chicago, Illinois

  Quest parked the rented Expedition and tightened his hands over the steering wheel. After a week’s worth of calls to Michaela’s home, he’d decided on a more personal visit. Besides, he’d been curious about the man answering her phone. He’d introduced himself as Driggers Morgan when they spoke and had promptly identified himself as Ms. Sellars houseman. House-man was the part that had Quest curious and on edge.

  ~~~

  Quest took a moment to size up Driggers Morgan when he finally found the nerve to knock on the front door. The man was probably in his late fifties, but didn’t look a day over forty. Quest realized that he was more content with his version of what Driggers would look like.

  “Is Michaela Sellars here?” Quest asked, acknowledging that he was there for more important matters.

  Driggers fixed Quest with a cursory glance before offering a response. “I’m so very sorry, sir, but the lady isn’t here just now.”

  Quest studied the man just as closely and then shook his head and turned away. “You’re telling me the truth,” he murmured.

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  “I’m sorry,” Quest apologized with a wave. “I thought if I asked in person, I’d know whether I was being lied to. I see that’s not the case,” he cleared his throat and tugged on the sleeve of his light-weight Seahawks sweatshirt. “Can you tell me when she’s expected back?”

  Driggers offered a sympathetic smile. “But for the occasional call to tell me she’s fine, she hasn’t said when she’ll return.”

  Quest smothered a groan of disappointment by smoothing a hand across his face.

  Driggers stepped closer. “Are you the Mr. Ramsey I’ve been speaking with this past week?”

  “Guilty,” Quest admitted with a sheepish grin.

  Driggers laughed and then reached out to shake hands. “Come inside for a drink, son,” he urged.

  Quest hung back. “I probably shouldn’t.”

  “Micky told me about meeting with a Seattle family named Ramsey. I assume you’re one of them.”

  “Yeah,” Quest confirmed, not appearing too proud of the fact.

  Driggers stroked his jaw. “The one?”

  Quest tilted his head. “Sir?”

  Driggers waved off the sly probe and stepped away from the tall oak doors. “Come inside, son,” he smiled when Quest complied.

  Quest surveyed his surroundings, having already approved of the beautiful three-story Spanish styled home. Inside, it was just as lovely and shrieked comfort and warmth in spite of its open make-up.

  “What’s your business, Mr. Ramsey?” Driggers asked on his way to the built-in bar located in the sunken living room.

  “Real estate,” Quest called, reading the bookshelves lining the opposite wall.

  Driggers selected two glasses and a bottle of Hennessey. “Pay well?” he asked.

  Quest grinned. “We do alright.”

  “I’d say better than alright if my Micky wants to write a book about you.”

  “Yeah,” Quest sounded less jovial then.

  “She told me how that turned out.”

  Quest accepted the glass Driggers handed him. “In big families it’s hard to get everyone to agree on what’s best.”

  Driggers nodded. “I can understand that.”

  Quest studied his drink and couldn’t resist a soft laugh.

  “What’s that?” Driggers’ politely inquired.

  “She can’t hold her drink, but she’s got Hennessey in the house,” Quest laughed again softly.

  “That’s my Micky, intent on making a home. Wants everyone to be comfortable when they visit.” Driggers explained, laughing softly then too.

  “How long have you been with her?” Quest took a sip of the dark drink.

  “Years,” Driggers sighed, looking off as though he was trying to calculate the exact time in his mind. “That girl,” he chuckled, “she didn’t care what anyone had to say. She wanted a houseman and that was that.”

  Quest grinned while shaking his head. “Sounds like her,” he stared into the glass then as though he could see Mick’s face amidst the sparkling ice and rich liquid.

  “I suspect your visit is about something other than business?” Driggers pried again, taking a sip from his glass and motioning for Quest to have a seat.

  “It is,” he admitted without hesitation and settled back against the cream suede sofa. “I was stubborn, keeping quiet about how I felt about her. I should’ve told her how much I wanted her to stay. I won’t miss the opportunity again,” he swore, sealing the statement with another swig of the liquor.

  Driggers was intrigued by the young man with the deep voice- a strong voice. He was sure that was just what his Micky needed-what she’d need after he left… She deserved the best and yes, he thought this man seated to his right was just that.

  “I’ll keep you posted,” Driggers promised, knocking his glass against the arm of the sofa. “You’ll know the minute she returns.”

  Quest’s appreciation was reflected in his gray eyes.

  ~~~

  Mick returned home just a few days later. She raced out of the cab like a little girl, flinging herself against Driggers’ hard chest and smiling when she heard his playful grunt.

  “I missed you so,” she whispered, burying her face against the side of Drigger’s neck and inhaling the spicy scent of the tobacco he used in his pipe.

  “I thought I’d enjoy all that quiet. I hated it,” Driggers admitted, his arms tightening around her small frame. He pulled away and brushed his hand across her brow, easily detecting the weariness on her lovely milk chocolate face.

  “I’m so tired, Driggs,” she said, knowing there was no need to put on airs of strength.

  “How was Georgia?” Driggers asked, smoothing a curl from her cheek.

  Mick smiled, sadness mingling with the weariness in her eyes. “This is a painful situation. Johnelle Black needs answers. I don’t know how she’s survived this long without them. I have to help her,” she said, her lashes fluttering against unshed tears.

  “I know,” was all Driggers said.

  The simple acknowledgement made Mick all the more happy to be home. Driggers promised a freshly made bed, hot tea, and her favorite pastry waiting inside. Mick eagerly allowed herself to be led to relaxation.

  By the next day, she was back to her old self and in need of a workout. She contacted the girls, who practically screamed the phone to pieces at the news of her return. They had two months before the season began and they had a lot of rehearsing to do if their most ambitious routine yet was to be all it could be. Mick discovered that the girls had not grown lazy during her absence. They’d been practicing hard and it showed. Mick decided to keep her instructor’s cap off that day and enjoy the dance.

  ***

  As promised, Driggers kept Quest informed and was leading him into the house the following afternoon. Mick and the girls had gotten a late start that warm July day, but were in the throes of the routine by the time Quest had arrived. Driggers was full of mischief and had the unexpected guest wait in the den. The room just happened to offer the perfect view of the immaculate back lawn where the rehearsals were held. Driggers knew Mick would kill him for letting anyone-especially another man- gawk at the group. But, Driggers thought, well...he was an old man and he could get away with it.

  “Have a seat, son and try to stay calm,” Driggers advised, smirking when the younger man fixed him with a confuse
d smile.

  It wasn’t long before Quest’s ears caught the sound of hard bass under voices rapping out a popular old school single. He was thankful Driggers had suggested he sit, or his legs would surely have given out beneath him at the sight that greeted his eyes. The vision of the twenty-one beauties on the lawn, all moving in erotic sync to the music, was enough to make any man stare in awe. While they were all luscious, Quest’s eyes were riveted on the most luscious of all. He’d known she had curves-he’d felt them….seeing them so deliciously encased in hip-hugging camouflage boy shorts with a matching tank top and her thick black curls haphazardly twisted in a camouflage bandana, drove the fact home. The sight of her enflamed his hormones so quickly, his shaft lengthened, swelled and hardened to an almost uncomfortable state. He whispered a curse just as Driggers returned to the room with a chilled mug of beer.

  “Thought you might needed this,” Driggers set the mug on the glass table flanking the armchair.

  “What is this?” Quest barely breathed, nodding toward the backyard.

  “Mick took the girls under her wing a few years ago. Dancers for the band at her college alma mater. I think she needs them now just as much as they need her,” he slapped Quest’s shoulder. “Enjoy the show.”

  ~~~

  And Quest did just that. Erotic was a nice beginning to describe the routine that promised to have every man who saw it in the same state that he was. A smile crossed his handsome face as he thought of his brother. Quay would surely kick himself for knowing he’d missed such a treat.

  Quest’s intense gray-black stare was riveted on Michaela as he followed her every move. At times, he went as far as to tilt his head to enjoy every twist of her limber, curvaceous figure. When the routine ended, he had managed to quell his raging hormones so that he’d be presentable when the rush of women filled the room.

  “Good work, ladies! Good work!” Mick congratulated the troupe as they headed toward the house. “I’m happy to see you haven’t let all my hard work go to waste!”

  The girls filed into the den, but slowed just after stepping past the sliding glass doors. It took Mick a moment to realize the group had stopped moving altogether.

  “Hello!” she called, her steps hindered by the motionless bodies. “Hello?” she called again, squeezing between the girls. “What are y’all doin’?” she noticed all heads turned toward the far right corner of the big room.

  The girls’ eyes were focused on the beautiful molasses-dipped male who stood there. When Mick saw the cause of all the stunned gazes, she too was mesmerized.

  “Ladies,” Quest greeted softly. His eyes moved to rest on Michaela. Slowly, they raked her body as though he were stripping away each garment as he went.

  The girls glanced at Mick, envying her power over the tall god who watched her so intently.

  Mick slowly regained her senses and nodded toward the doorway leading out of the den. “Showers,” she instructed softly. “Showers. Now.” she managed only minimal firmness in her voice then.

  When the last girl left the room, Quest closed the distance between himself and Mick. His mouth came crashing down on hers, his arms enveloping her in an unbreakable hold. Mick moaned against the powerful thrusts of his tongue, but matched it with a fire of her own. She arched and angled her neck, frantically kissing him as she reached for a remote on the oak shelves. One click activated the panel, which slid in place across the doorway, bathing the room in privacy.

  Quest lifted her effortlessly against his tall, muscular frame and carried her to the futon in the farthest corner of the room. He stood there for a moment, savoring the deep hot lunges of her tongue as she kissed him as if she were starved for his taste. He angled a foot beneath the edge of the futon and pulled it into a flat position. Gently, he placed Mick on the olive-green cushioned liner.

  Soft moans and ragged groans filled the room as Quest made quick work of Mick’s clothing. He had her nude in minutes. She was in heaven, her sighs and moans of encouragement giving him permission to do with her as he pleased. His handsome face was shielded by the lush mounds of her breasts as his tongue trailed the chocolate orbs before his teeth grazed the nipples and then soothed them with his lips.

  Mick felt powerless to do anything other than curve more of her body closer to his mouth. Her arms lay weakly above her head, when his tongue outlined one nipple before sucking it madly. Not to ignore the other, he squeezed it between thumb and forefinger molesting it into a throbbing bud.

  Mick thought she’d lose her mind in a whirlwind of sensation. Quest’s mouth was everywhere: tonguing her belly-button, lavishing her thighs with moist kisses while his mouth nudged the light smattering of black curls at the joining of her legs.

  Then, unbelievably the kisses just stopped. Quest rested his head on her hip and inhaled deeply. Mick thought that it reminded her of that night- the night when things went haywire…

  At last, he raised his head and covered her nude form with his fully clothed one. “I can’t take you this way,” he said.

  “Yes you can,” she blurted, small fists curled against the front of his white T-shirt. Her body was set aflame by his touch- a flame only he could extinguish.

  “I can’t,” Quest squeezed his eyes shut to take his mind off how good she felt beneath him. “Not with a house full of people, on a futon in your den.” He pushed the curls from her forehead and kissed the tip of her nose. “It’s tempting and an encounter I intend to fulfill one day. But not the first day, not the first time.”

  Torn between her desire for him and her appreciation for his concern, she rolled her eyes and steeled herself from begging him to reconsider.

  “I want you to get dressed,” he whispered, brushing his thumb across the curve of her cheek. “I’m taking you somewhere else.”

  “Why?” she blurted again. She had to know. “Why are you doing this? Why does it matter to you where or how?”

  Quest grinned his captivating left-dimpled smile. He appraised her expressive, incredible eyes and that mouth...the curls that framed her face so sweetly… he adored everything about her. Bringing his lips within a hairsbreadth of hers he whispered, “It matters because I love you.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Mick had ordered her legs to pick up the pace earlier when she headed upstairs to pack for the impromptu getaway. But her legs felt like syrup- all warm and oozy. She was in a dream, a lover’s dream and never wanted to awaken.

  He’s not your lover yet, girl, a voice had said. Still, he loved her. He’d said it clearly and she had remained speechless. But he didn’t seem to mind. Now her brows tugged close and she bit down on her lip debating the concern that had suddenly surfaced. Slowly, she turned to face him across the gear console of the Expedition.

  “Tell me,” Quest said, knowing she was watching him with a question in her eyes.

  Mick’s gaze faltered upon hesitation. She cleared her throat and pushed unease from her voice. “Are you doing this because of the investigation? do you want me to reconsider?”

  “Investigation, book, radio broadcast, Internet or TV movie. I don’t care,” he replied flatly, his gray stare never veering from the road. “This doesn’t have a thing to do with that. You can ask me whatever you like,” he said when she started to turn away. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  Mick pressed her lips together and nodded.

  Quest reclined a bit more in the driver’s seat. “But I’ll tell you later,” he said, “much, much later.”

  ~~~

  When they arrived at a cabin located right on the river, Mick was again stunned. Close your mouth, girl, she told herself. She didn’t wait for Quest to open her door, but eased out of the SUV as though her feet were about to touch sacred ground.

  The cabin was a rustic masterpiece surrounded by towering pines and spruce trees. The river it sat next to mingled with the sound of trickling water with birdsong and the gentle sway of leaves and tree limbs against a cool breeze.

  “Quest,”
she breathed, her amber gaze sparkling as she surveyed the scene. “When did you plan this?”

  Quest grinned, reaching into the rear of the vehicle to collect their bags. “I wanted you to think I just snapped my fingers and all of this fell into place.”

  Mick pushed one hand into the back pocket of her jeans. “I guess it wasn’t like that, huh?” she teased.

  “The cabin’s mine. I usually stay here when I have business in Chicago for an extended period of time. I’ve got my own houseman who stops by to check on things,” he shared, shutting the rear door on the storage compartment. “The place is always ready for a sudden visit.”

  “Mmm, convenient,” Mick tugged on the lemon, white and blue-striped crew sweater she wore. “It must come in handy with all the women you woo,” she noted softly and walked on ahead having no idea how her tease had affected Quest. She stood on the massive porch toying with the cropped hem of her top while waiting for him to unlock the door.

  Surprising her, Quest took her by the arm and turned her back against the door. “I’ve never brought anyone here. Anyone Michaela. No family and no other woman.”

  Mick could only nod, thoroughly off kilter by the serious tone of his voice and the intensity in the gray of his eyes. She waited, her back still against the door as he unlocked it and pushed it open. She backed into the magnificent dwelling. Her nostrils instantly flared in response to the crisp, masculine scent of spice and wood. She watched Quest relieve himself of their luggage, which he’d carried in all at once. Slowly, her gaze shifted to assess her environment.

  The masculine presence of the two-story cabin was real and heady. Everything was oversized and comfortably. The dwelling was crafted for relaxation and Mick couldn’t help but feel a bit like a maiden in the lair of a seductive pirate. She almost burst into laughter and turned to Quest again.