by Radclyffe
But why would she be? She’s already made it perfectly clear what her feelings are. Or aren’t.
Quinn shrugged, then bit back a wince at the sudden tension on her shoulder joint. “I’ll just help run the drills and whatever else you need me to do.”
If Robin heard the strained edge in Quinn’s voice, she made no comment. Instead, she introduced Quinn to Dave Clark, the other coach, and within a few minutes, Quinn was caught up in the bubbling enthusiasm of the young soccer players. The hour and a half sped by, and before she knew it, she was supervising the kids as they packed up the team’s gear.
“Quinn!” Arly called, breaking away from a group of teammates and racing over. “Are you going to have supper with us at Linda and Robin’s?”
“I don’t think so, kiddo. Not tonight.”
Robin grabbed the gear bag and hefted it to her shoulder. “That’s a great idea, Quinn. I’m cooking tonight, so you can just hang out while I get things ready. What do you say?”
Quinn was torn. She had nothing waiting for her at home. She enjoyed Robin and Linda’s company, and the kids’, too. But staying for dinner almost certainly meant running into Honor, if not actually sharing the meal with her. After the clear boundaries Honor had set the evening before, Quinn wasn’t certain it was a good idea to see her socially, at least not so soon. It was time to get their relationship back on a purely professional basis.
“I appreciate the offer, Robin, but I’m a little bit tired. I’ll take a rain check, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure. No problem. Next time, then.”
Arly made a disappointed face and grumbled. “Why can’t you come, Quinn? You wouldn’t have to help make dinner or anything. I could do that.”
Quinn bent down until she was eye level with the little girl. “That’s really nice of you. You remember I hurt my arm, right?”
Arly nodded.
“Well, it’s almost better, but I think I need to take a nap so it can get better faster. Okay?”
“Okay,” Arly agreed seriously. “But maybe next time, right?”
“Yes,” Quinn said softly. “Maybe next time.”
Honor didn’t make it in time for supper, arriving to collect Arly at a little before eight.
“I packed up some leftovers for you,” Linda said when Honor came into the kitchen.
“Thanks.” Honor dropped into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and sighed. Linda stood at the counter packing Tupperware containers into a plastic shopping bag, and the sight reminded Honor of just how precious Linda's friendship was to her. “I’m sorry about being such an ass at work today.”
Linda turned and gave her a long look. “You want to tell me now what’s going on?”
“I can’t.” Honor pushed the salt shaker back and forth on the table restlessly. “It would be a breach in confidentiality.”
“Okay,” Linda said thoughtfully as she sat down next to Honor. “Since I already know it has to do with Quinn, just tell me this. Is there something serious going on with her heart?”
“I can’t play twenty questions, Linda. It’s not right.”
“I haven’t seen you this out of sorts in a long time.” Linda rested her hand on Honor’s, squeezing gently. “I just want to help.”
“I know you do. And if I could tell you, believe me, I would.” Honor blew out an exasperated breath. “Did you see Quinn tonight?”
“She stopped in for a second to say hi after practice. She’s so cute.”
Completely involuntarily, Honor’s heart tripped. “Did she seem...okay?”
“Quiet. Her shoulder seems better.” Linda narrowed her eyes, watching Honor’s gaze grow distant. “Why?”
“No reason. Did she...mention me at all?”
Linda hesitated. “No. She didn’t.”
“Well,” Honor said, rising quickly. “I need to get home. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I’ll pick you up at the usual time.” Linda stood as well. “Get some rest, okay? You look worn out.”
“I’m fine.” Honor forced a smile. “Just fine.”
Chapter Seventeen
Attorneys, Honor thought. Why is it impossible for them to say anything using simple words and sentences of less than two paragraphs? God.
Her head ached and her stomach roiled queasily. The meeting with Administration had been more difficult than she’d anticipated. Discussing Quinn in her absence, dissecting her medical condition and quantifying her liability risk as if she were no more than a hypothetical problem to be analyzed, had left Honor feeling disloyal and self-serving. Quinn was so much more than just a “new hire” who presented a thorny dilemma for risk-management. She was a talented surgeon with the noblest of intentions who was doing her best under difficult circumstances, and she didn’t deserve to have her career threatened because everyone in medicine was running scared of the word lawsuit.
And I’m one of them. What’s happened to me? When did I become so afraid of doing the right thing?
Disgusted with herself, Honor walked back to the emergency room, fighting the overwhelming urge to see Quinn. She’d thought of little else for two days. In between dealing with the responsibilities of work and family, her mind had been consumed with Quinn. It had become practically impossible for her to distinguish between what she ought to do as an administrator and what she wanted to do as a friend.
Friends. That’s what I told her we were. I certainly haven’t acted like much of one. And she never once complained or tried to use our...relationship to her advantage.
Honor glanced at her watch.
5:45. They’re probably still at the soccer field.
She hunted down Brian Vaughn, one of the ER attendings. “I need to take off early, Brian. Is everything under control here?”
The sandy-haired, freckle-faced man gave an unconcerned shrug. “Is it ever?”
“Sorry.” Honor grinned. “Wrong choice of words. Can you handle things?”
“Sure. It’s dinnertime.” He pointed to the To Be Seen rack, which held only three new charts. “You know we won’t see the heavy nighttime action until after eight. By then the swing shift will be in, and we’ll have plenty of people. Go ahead. We’re good here.”
“Thanks.” Honor’s spirits lifted immediately. As she turned and headed for the exit, she promised, “I’ll owe you a couple of hours for this.”
“Don’t worry,” he called after her. “I’ll collect the next time my wife wants me to show up for some after-school kids’ thing.”
Since it was Linda’s day off, Honor had driven her own car to work, and she was on the road in five minutes and pulling into a parking space adjacent to the playing fields in ten. Robin’s sturdy form, running along the sideline, gesticulating to the young players, was easily discernible. Quinn, recognizable even from a distance in gym shorts and a T-shirt, worked with a small group of children who were lined up in two facing rows doing drills. Honor sat behind the wheel, observing Quinn demonstrate a passing technique, running agilely as she manipulated the ball with her feet. Watching her, Honor got the same impression of confidence, skill, and natural ability that she’d seen Quinn display during surgery.
The children, one of whom was Arly, mimicked Quinn’s every move like a line of baby ducks. Honor smiled, unable to look anywhere but at the charismatic woman who seemed to have no idea of her own allure.
Quinn Maguire. Do you do everything so naturally, as if you were born knowing how? The Pied Piper, indeed.
Five minutes passed while Honor debated the wisdom of her decision to come. Now that she really thought about it, it hardly seemed suitable to track Quinn down personally during non–work hours to discuss business. It would probably be more appropriate—not to mention more professional—to telephone Quinn either that evening or the next morning to set up an appointment. Honor gripped the key that was still in the ignition but stopped before starting the engine.
On the other hand, Quinn is coaching my daughter’s soccer team, and it is pe
rfectly natural for me, as a parent, to stop by to observe.
Before she could admit the transparency of her rationalizations, Honor got out of the car and started across the field.
“Mom!” Arly shouted excitedly as she broke away from the group of children and ran in Honor’s direction.
Quinn trapped the ball beneath her foot and turned to look across the green, her mouth going suddenly dry when she saw the woman approaching. To glance up and unexpectedly see Honor brought a swift rush of pleasure that was momentarily paralyzing. All she could do was stare, marveling at the way Honor’s hair glinted gold in the sunlight, mesmerized by the way she moved, all long limbed and graceful and sure. Honor’s mere presence had a way of making everything else in Quinn’s world—every worry, every care, every fear—disappear, and that was an exhilarating, terrifying experience. Even though she knew that it was folly, the sensation was too good to wish away.
“Hi,” Honor said as she stopped a few feet from Quinn, one arm going out automatically to hug Arly close to her side. She leaned down and kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “Hi, sweetheart.”
“Quinn taught us a new passing drill today, Mom. I was really good at it.”
“I bet you were great.” Honor unconsciously stroked Arly’s shoulder as she kept her eyes on Quinn, trying to determine her welcome. She had anticipated that Quinn would at the very least be angry with her, if not outright adversarial. With sweet relief, she realized that anger wasn’t what she saw in the depths of those blue eyes slowly searching her face. There were questions, to be sure, but much more crucial than that, there was welcome. For the first time in two days, Honor felt some of the tension slowly ebb from her body.
“Hello.” Quinn smiled, juggled the ball several times with her foot, causing it to bounce higher and higher, until she hooked her instep beneath it and then popped it up into her waiting arm.
“Slick move,” Honor deadpanned.
A grin quirked the corner of Quinn’s mouth. “It impresses the girls.”
“Can you teach me to do that?” Arly asked intently.
Coloring instantly, Quinn’s eyes dropped to Arly and then back to Honor in apology. “I...uh...”
“I’ll bet she can. But not right now.” Honor ruffled her daughter’s hair. “Aren’t you supposed to be practicing those drills?”
“Are you coming to dinner tonight, Quinn?” Arly made no move to leave.
“Well...”
“Quinn and I need to talk,” Honor interjected seriously. “And you need to get back to your practice. Go on, go finish.”
Arly hesitated for another second, then ran off.
“I’m sorry about that remark,” Quinn said abjectly. “It just slipped out.”
“It’s fine.” Honor laughed and clasped Quinn’s hand briefly. “It wasn’t anything serious enough to worry about. It’s not like she doesn’t know that some girls like girls and some girls like boys, but I don’t even think she noticed.”
Quinn glanced over to where the children were practicing. Parents stood around in small groups, conversing and occasionally calling out encouragement and praise to their children. There were a fair number of same-sex couples present. “Does she know about...I don’t know, you know...the difference between being straight and not?”
“Not exactly in those terms. She knows that some kids have a mom and dad, and some kids have just a mom or just a dad, and that some kids have two moms or two dads.”
Shaking her head, Quinn chuckled. “I’m not sure I could keep all that straight.”
“The reason that she goes to the school she does is that there are a lot of other kids from alternative families, too, so she’s not different.” Honor smiled. “And having Robin and Linda and Kim and Dennis as part of the family really helps.”
Quinn wanted to ask if Arly knew about Terry, but it didn’t seem to be the time or place. She wasn’t even sure why she wanted to know, except that everything about Honor and Arly interested her. She cleared her throat.
“So, did you just come to watch practice?”
Honor shook her head. “No, I came to find you.”
“Oh?”
“How much longer until practice is over?”
Quinn glanced at the Timex watch, the one that her father had given her when she’d left for college. “Another fifteen minutes or so. But I have to make sure all the kids get home all right, so I might have to wait a few minutes until their rides show up.”
“How about I wait, and then we grab a bite to eat somewhere. I’d like to talk to you.”
“I’d need to change first,” Quinn said, indicating her sweat-stained T-shirt and shorts.
“Robin can take Arly back with her kids, and I can take you to your place. Will that work?”
“It’s a bit of a mess.” Quinn considered that a blatant understatement, but at least the sofa was accessible, and she had orange juice in the refrigerator that she could offer as refreshment.
“I think I can handle that.”
Before Quinn could reply, she heard her name being called. An instant later, warm fingers wrapped around her wrist and then slipped down to her hand.
“Quinn! How’s your shoulder?” Mandy smiled a brilliant smile as she entwined her fingers with Quinn’s and swung her right arm lightly. “We just finished an officials’ meeting to finalize the game schedule, and I saw you over here. That was a nasty fall you took on Saturday.” She pouted prettily. “You were gone before I could even see how you were doing.”
“It’s fine. Much better.” Quinn tried to extract her hand as she glanced quickly at Honor, whose brown eyes had darkened to a dangerous simmer.
Following Quinn’s gaze, Mandy spared a brief look in Honor’s direction. “Oh, hi.”
“Hello, Mandy,” Honor said steadily as she contemplated dismembering her.
Mandy turned back to Quinn. “You know, my other day job is working as a massage therapist. I’m a very good Swedish masseuse.” Her voice dropped low as she placed her other palm lightly in the center of Quinn’s chest and rubbed gently. “I schedule sessions at the gym. It would be great for your shoulder.”
“Actually,” Honor interjected conversationally, “it wouldn’t. Right now, too much direct muscle stimulation is only going to produce more swelling. So I think you should probably desist from the laying on of hands.”
“Oh Honor, still as serious as ever, I see. You never did have a very good sense of humor.” Eyes locked on Quinn, Mandy moved her hand from Quinn’s chest and brushed it slowly down the injured arm in question. “We could start off with something nice and easy. Maybe in the hot tub. Call me.”
“Thanks,” Quinn said, finally managing to extricate her hand and stepping back out of reach.
“Any time.” Mandy smiled a little too sweetly at Honor and sauntered away.
“I’m going to kill her someday.”
“Why?”
Honor turned bright red, not realizing she had spoken out loud. “Could you pretend you didn’t hear that?”
“Absolutely not,” Quinn said with a laugh. “What’s her crime?”
“Let’s just say that she has an annoying habit of putting her hands, and other body parts, where they aren’t necessarily welcome.”
Quinn’s eyes narrowed, no longer laughing. “Has she been after you?”
“No,” Honor murmured thoughtfully, watching Mandy smile and wave to almost every lesbian on the field. “Terry.”
“Ah. Well, I can’t imagine that Terry would have bothered to look at her when she had you.”
Honor met Quinn’s gaze, and she wasn’t thinking about Terry. She was thinking about the soft rumble of Quinn’s voice and the way it made her heart race. She smiled and when she spoke, her voice was throaty. “Very smooth, Maguire.”
“I meant it.”
What about you? Do you feel that way, too? Flushing with pleasure now, Honor said softly, “I think practice is breaking up.”
“I should go help.”
<
br /> “I’ll wait.”
“Thanks. I won’t be long.”
After walking Arly to Robin’s car, Honor contented herself with observing Quinn. She moved easily among the children, answering their questions patiently and seriously while urging them to stow their gear, and then chaperoning them individually or in small groups to waiting vehicles. Finally, Honor and Quinn were alone on the field.
There was still an hour until sunset, and as Honor stood in the golden glow of the waning light slanting across the lush green, she experienced the pure and simple pleasure of a particular woman’s smile. Quinn came toward her, her easy gait and confident carriage striking in itself, but it was the look in her eyes and the lift of her lips that caused Honor’s legs to weaken.
“All set?” Honor asked softly.
Quinn nodded, thinking that in that moment there wasn’t a single thing she could imagine wanting other than Honor’s company. “Yep.”
“My car is right over here.” Honor started walking, resisting the urge to take Quinn’s hand. She had to remind herself that she had come with a specific purpose in mind, and that issue wasn’t personal. It was business, and business that might very well turn this pleasant interlude into a difficult evening. But despite her resolve, being around Quinn made it easy to forget everything except her.
Once settled in the car, Honor started the engine and headed toward their neighborhood. “How’s your shoulder really?”
“Not bad. It’s stiff, and I probably could use a massage.”
Honor cut her a look, and Quinn laughed.
“A shoulder massage.”
“Well,” Honor commented acerbically, “unless you want to spend the time fighting off not-so-subtle advances or getting a whole lot more than your shoulder tended to, I’d suggest you make an appointment with someone other than Mandy.”
Quinn angled her head and studied Honor’s profile. Her teeth appeared clenched and a muscle bunched at the angle of her elegant jaw. “You really don’t like her, do you?”
