by Radclyffe
Honor leaned her hip against the counter. “I want to thank you for how good you were with her earlier.”
“You’re welcome, but thanks are not necessary. I’m glad it wasn’t too bad for her.”
“It’s her first big sports injury.” Honor grinned ruefully. “Since she’s quite the up-and-coming jock, I’m sure there will be more.”
“Well, hopefully you won’t require my services too often.”
“No,” Honor replied softly, thinking how gentle Quinn had been. “Hopefully not.”
Quinn was surprised when Honor reached out and lightly touched her shoulder, but before she could respond, Honor turned and walked away. Quinn was left staring after her, her skin tingling beneath the cotton of her scrub shirt. Forcefully, she reminded herself that the gesture had been innocent and that the events of the day had made it very clear that Honor was not available for casual flirtations. Not only married, but married with children. Get a grip.
And casual flirtations were the only thing that interested Quinn currently. Her life was much too unsettled to contemplate anything else, even had she desired it. Which she didn’t.
She put her mind to the task of completing the paperwork on her remaining patients, and forty-five minutes later, she stepped out through the emergency room doors into a vicious summer storm. The sky was gray-black with rolling thunderclouds, lightning slashed sporadically, striking fiery fingers into the very treetops nearby, and a fierce wind whipped icy bullets of rain into her face. Quinn dug her denim jacket out of her backpack, shrugged it on, and pulled the collar high around her neck in an unsuccessful attempt to keep the rain from running down her back while she unlocked her bicycle.
“You can’t ride in this storm!” Honor called from nearby.
Turning her head, Quinn blinked at the rivulets of water streaming into her eyes. She had to shout to be heard above the wind and rain. “It’s not far! I’ll be fine.”
“That’s insane!” Honor grabbed Quinn’s arm and tugged. “Come on—we’ll put your bike in my car, and I’ll drive you home.”
Quinn saw no point in arguing while they both got drenched to the skin. She merely grabbed her bike and followed as Honor ran to the parking lot opposite the emergency room entrance. Before they had even reached the Subaru station wagon, Honor had keyed the remote to unlock the doors. After Quinn hefted the bike into the back, they both piled into the front seats in a breathless rush.
“God, that’s brutal,” Honor gasped. Soaked to the skin and freezing, she started the car and prayed that the heater would warm up quickly. She glanced at Quinn, who was running her hands through her sopping hair. “Has it occurred to you that riding a bicycle in this is inviting lightning to strike?”
“One in a million chance.” Quinn grinned.
“Well, I’d prefer not to have to defibrillate you, all the same.” To Honor’s surprise, Quinn actually paled. It was the first time Honor had ever seen Quinn appear even slightly off balance, and—even more than that—there was a fleeting shadow of pain in her expression. Without thinking, she rested her hand on Quinn’s thigh, feeling the muscles beneath her fingers tighten in response. “You okay?”
Quinn glanced down, unable to understand what Honor’s hand was doing on her leg. The graceful fingers curling gently over the arch of her midthigh looked completely natural there. She had to resist the urge to put her own fingers over Honor’s. The touch was electric, and her stomach clenched with the swift rush of arousal. She sat very still as she struggled to answer.
“Yes.” Quinn’s voice was low and husky. “Fine.”
Beneath her fingertips, Honor was aware of Quinn trembling faintly. She was also aware of the fact that she liked the way the lean, tight thigh felt. As casually as she could, she withdrew her hand.
“We’re both soaked. We’d better get going.”
“Yes.”
Even with traffic crawling because of the poor visibility and occasional tree branch blowing into the road, it took less than fifteen minutes to reach their neighborhood.
“My house is just up the block,” Honor remarked, the first words either of them had spoken since leaving the hospital. “Where are you?”
“Just around the corner there on Morris. I can walk—”
“Of course not,” Honor said emphatically. “I’ll just circle the block and drop you off. It’s no problem.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Two minutes later, Honor pulled to the curb in front of the house that Quinn indicated. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Will do.” Quinn pushed the door open, stepped out into the downpour, and looked back into the car. “Thanks again, Honor.”
Honor just nodded, waited while Quinn pulled her bike from the back, and continued to watch as Quinn made a run for the front porch. For just an instant, she had contemplated inviting Quinn home with her for dinner. She had no idea why, because it was completely out of character for her to be spontaneous in any kind of social situation. All she knew was that she hadn’t wanted to say good night to Quinn. And that thought was enough to spur her into action. With a quick glance into her mirrors, she pulled away from the curb and headed toward the comfortable security of home.
Chapter Five
Honor parked in the narrow drive beside her half of a three-story Victorian twin and entered through the back door into the kitchen. Her mother-in-law, Phyllis Murphy, was doing dishes in the sink that faced a window overlooking their shared backyard. Phyllis lived in the other half of the twin, the mirror image of Honor’s.
At the sound of Honor’s arrival, Phyllis turned to survey her with a mild frown on her smooth, heart-shaped face. Although close to sixty, Phyllis could easily be taken for fifteen years younger, with her still-shapely form and her wavy chestnut hair that showed not a trace of gray. Her blue eyes were piercing and bright, and at the moment, sparkling with fond exasperation. “Well, you’re a fine spectacle. You’re soaking wet. Get out of your shoes right there, and then go directly upstairs and take a warm shower.”
Wordlessly, Honor kicked off her shoes. She’d known the woman since she’d been a teenager, and Phyllis was as close to a mother as Honor’s own. Now that her parents had retired to the Southwest to escape the cold winters, she saw them only at major holidays. Phyllis, on the other hand, was a central part of her and Arly’s daily life. Phyllis not only provided essential child care, she was one of Honor’s best friends.
“Where’s the munchkin?”
“In the living room. Did you eat?”
“Not yet.” Honor pulled a hand towel from a rack above the counter by the sink and gave her head a brisk rubdown, soaking up most of the water from her hair. “I’ll fix something—”
“I put a plate for you in the oven. As soon as you’ve changed, and showered, come down and have your dinner.”
Honor knew better than to argue. As she passed the older woman, she gave her a fond hug. “Is she okay?”
“Seems to be. Most of the time she forgets about it, and then when she remembers, I think she’s rather proud of herself.”
“Proud of herself?” Honor raised an eyebrow.
“I think she’s looking forward to showing her stitches to all of her friends tomorrow.”
Honor laughed. “Sounds like she’s going to survive, then. I’ll be back in a minute, then you can go home if you want.”
“I’m in no hurry,” Phyllis replied as she began loading the dishwasher.
On the way down the hall to the main staircase at the opposite end, Honor peeked into the living room with its brick fireplace, walnut hardwood floors, and bay windows. Her daughter sat curled up on the sofa, the television tuned to a nature program, and a dark, curly haired form sprawled in her lap. At Honor’s approach, the shapeless black mass metamorphosed into a tail-wagging standard poodle.
“Hi, sweetheart.” Honor leaned down to kiss the top of Arly’s head and simultaneously scratched behind the dog’s ears. “Hiya, Pooch.”
“Hi, Mom.” Arly gave her mother a smile and then turned her attention back to a caravan of wildebeest trekking across the African savanna.
Honor settled a hip on the arm of the sofa and rested her fingers against the back of her daughter’s neck, stroking her softly. “How’s your head feel?”
“It hurts a little, but most of the time it’s okay.”
“Good.” Honor tipped Arly’s chin up and studied her face. “Hmm. You have a shiner.”
“What’s that?”
“A black-and-blue mark like when you bang your knee—”
“Or get bumped in the game.”
“Yep. Except this time it’s around your eye.”
“Why’s it called a shiner?”
Honor considered that. “Beats me.”
“It’s cool though, huh?”
“Very. I’m going to change my clothes, and then it’s time for you to go to bed.” Honor leaned down and kissed her again. “Come upstairs when I call you, okay?”
“Uh-huh. Can you read me the part about Muggle medicine again?”
“You don’t want to do the reading out loud tonight?”
Arly shook her head. “Will you?”
“You bet.”
Five minutes later, Honor stepped into the steaming shower, leaned against the slick tiles with a weary sigh, and closed her eyes. The warm water felt wonderful after the chill of the cold rain and her damp clothes. She was emotionally exhausted from the stress and brief panic surrounding Arly’s injury. As tired as she was, however, she was aware of an unexpected undercurrent of exhilaration, a sense of anticipation, although she had absolutely no idea of what. Or why. Odd, she mused. There’s nothing new going on in my life that I can think of.
Out of nowhere, the image of Quinn, her blue eyes intense and her expression kind, bending over Arly in the ER that afternoon flashed through Honor’s mind. In the next instant, she felt the taut muscles of that long, lean thigh under her fingers and saw again Quinn shake the rainwater from her hair. She looked so wild, so...sexy, just then. A shiver passed down Honor’s spine and a stirring in her stomach, so long forgotten that she barely recognized it, caused her to catch her breath in surprise.
Oh no, I must really be tired. It’s just that she was so wonderful with Arly. That’s all it is. Gratitude.
Ignoring the faint pulse of excitement that accompanied the unbidden memory, Honor quickly finished her shower, pulled on sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt emblazoned with the PMC logo, and called for Arly to come to bed. Her daughter was apparently more tired out by the afternoon’s events than Honor had realized, because she had barely begun reading when Arly dropped off. Carefully, Honor closed the book, turned off the bedside light, and crept quietly from the room.
Downstairs, she found Phyllis at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and Pooch beneath her feet, watching her with a hopeful expression.
“You’re not feeding him from the table, are you?” Honor helped herself to a cup of coffee and sat down opposite her mother-in-law at the rectangular oak peasant table.
“He only gets sushi, because he likes to eat off the chopsticks.”
Honor nodded as if that made perfect sense. “Thanks for leaving school early so I could go back to the hospital.”
Phyllis was an administrator at Green Street Friends School, where Robin and Linda’s two children, Dennis and Kim, and Arly were students. Usually, Robin picked all three children up when their after-school activities were over and kept them at her house until Phyllis came by for Arly at the end of her workday. Since Robin was one of the soccer coaches and all three children played, it made that simple. During the summer, all the kids were at day camp, so the same arrangement worked well.
In the evening, Phyllis usually made dinner at Honor’s. When an emergency came up that kept Honor in the ER longer than usual, or when she was on night duty, Phyllis stayed with Arly or took her granddaughter to the other half of the house, where Arly had her own room as well.
“No need for thanks,” Phyllis said quietly. “I’m just grateful she’s got a hard head.”
Honor imagined that Phyllis had been as shaken as she herself had been initially, even though when she had called the older woman at work to tell her about Arly’s injury, her first words had been that it was only a minor accident and that Arly was fine. Nevertheless, she knew that neither of them would ever be able to hear the word accident without an involuntary surge of dread. Honor slid her fingers over Phyllis’s hand and squeezed.
“She’s going to be just fine.”
“I know.” Phyllis smiled. “Actually, she couldn’t stop talking about it. Seems like she made a friend at the hospital.”
Honor looked inquisitively at her mother-in-law.
“Someone named Quinn?”
“Ah,” Honor sighed, “that would be the new ER attending, Quinn Maguire. She’s the one who put in the sutures.”
“Sounds like she’s a cross between a savior and a soccer star.”
“Hardly. But she was great with Arly.”
Phyllis heard the note of reservation in Honor’s voice. “You don’t like her?”
“No,” Honor said quickly, blushing. “No, it’s not that. It’s...complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
“I don’t know what it is, really.” Honor ran a hand distractedly through her hair, frowning at her own jumbled thoughts. It was hard to recall just what exactly about Quinn bothered her, especially when she remembered sitting with her in the car while the rain beat down around them, enclosing them in a thundering gray cocoon, and seeing that sliver of pain flash across Quinn’s expressive face. “She was hired without my input, so that annoyed me at first. Her qualifications don’t really fit the job description, so that makes me suspicious of a problem in her background.”
“Don’t fit how?”
“She’s not trained in emergency medicine; she’s trained in surgery. There’s no reason she should want this position.”
“Is she doing a good job?” Phyllis continued her gentle probing because she and Honor often talked over Honor’s frustrations and triumphs at work. More than that, she sensed that her daughter-in-law was troubled.
“Yes. Fine. Considering her training wasn’t in emergency medicine, better than I had hoped at this point.” Honor sipped her coffee, finally feeling warm. “She works hard, never complains, and is reasonably good natured about what has to be a difficult adjustment for her.”
“Sounds like she’s a great new addition to your staff, then.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Honor aimlessly turned her coffee mug on the tabletop, staring at the swirling liquid. “I just can’t help feeling that there’s something she’s hiding.”
“We all have things we’d rather not talk about, Honor,” Phyllis reminded her gently. “Those things aren’t necessarily bad, only painful sometimes.”
Honor raised her eyes to Phyllis, and, as was so often the case, they shared a moment of mutual sadness and understanding.
Quinn blinked the sweat from her eyes, and despite the ominous shaking in her arms, pushed the barbell straight up in the air one more time and slowly lowered it until it almost touched her chest. She held it to the count of two, then laboriously raised it and levered it back onto the cleats. With a gasp of relief, she closed her eyes and let her arms hang down by her sides as she waited for her breathing to return to normal. She hadn’t had a full workout in months, and despite the fact that she had been advised to start slowly, she’d been pushing herself hard for the last hour. Now her entire body was so tired, she wasn’t certain she could sit up. Absently, she reached up with her right hand and rubbed the annoying itch above her left breast.
“I wasn’t certain you were going to make that last one,” a soft voice with a sensuous drawl said from beside her.
Quinn turned her head, opened her eyes, and looked into the emerald green eyes inches from her own. Those striking eyes, shadowed by long honey-colored lashes, were
set in a Meryl Streep face that was framed by thick blond hair. Quinn blinked. “Hello?”
The wide, full mouth stretched into a lazy smile. “Hello yourself. I’m Mandy.”
“Quinn.”
Mandy, who crouched beside Quinn, wore a black jog bra and spandex workout shorts that left her toned midriff bare and showed off the rest of her body to perfection. She rested her fingertips lightly on Quinn’s left upper arm. “I know this sounds like a line, but are you new in town?”
“I’ve been here a few weeks.” Quinn laughed and pushed herself upright on the workout bench, then swung around until she faced the kneeling woman. “First time here, though.”
“I’m one of the personal trainers. I was going to ask you if you needed any help, but I can see that you don’t.” As she spoke, Mandy’s eyes drifted slowly down Quinn’s body.
Quinn wore gray Champion shorts and a T-shirt that had been cut off above the waist and at the shoulders. Her skin shone lightly with perspiration. She was warm, and it wasn’t entirely from the workout. Mandy’s gaze was openly appreciative, and it didn’t escape Quinn’s notice either that Mandy’s hand now rested ever so gently against Quinn’s knee. Unexpectedly, Quinn felt her heart race.
Mandy gave a startled laugh and pulled her hand back. “God, I believe I felt sparks!”
Quinn blushed, quickly suppressing a gasp. “I think that’s what you call static electricity.”
“Really,” Mandy said disbelievingly, tilting her head and giving Quinn another lazy smile. “Whatever you call it, it was nice.”
Abruptly, Quinn stood, anticipating the dizziness and waiting for it to pass. “I’ve got to run. It was nice meeting you, Mandy.”
Mandy rose to her feet, momentarily barring Quinn’s path. “It was nice meeting you, too, Quinn. I hope I’ll be seeing you again soon.”
