by Lacey Baker
Shaking her head and cursing quietly, Nikki pulled on her shirt and grabbed her bag. Her feet slipped all over her flip-flops until she finally just picked them up and tossed them in her bag.
So much for making a good impression on her new boss.
* * *
In the kitchen once again Quinn switched on a light. He planted his palms firmly on the counter and lowered his head, concentrating … on breathing. From the moment he’d seen the bag, the shorts, the shirt lying on the rocks his body had been rock-hard, no pun intended. Everything about him had stiffened and hungered and he knew who would be in that water before her head had even surfaced. It also appeared that she would be naked, or at least if there was any help for men in this divine universe, she would be naked.
Well, she hadn’t been … naked that is. But she had been the sexiest female he’d seen in a very, very long time, dripping wet and filling out a very, very small bikini. He’d salivated, something Quinn didn’t think he’d ever done before. And he’d wanted to touch her, something he told himself he wouldn’t do. Yet he did, and he liked it. Liked it way too much.
He grit his teeth because there was a much more serious matter at hand that he should be dealing with, not trying to rid himself of a mega erection that had no doubt shown itself to the young and probably impressionable new manager of this B&B.
When he thought he finally had himself together, when thoughts of baseball had nicely replaced thoughts of breasts and buttocks, and he was just about to head toward the cabinets in an attempt to figure out where tea bags were kept, the back door opened.
“Mornin’,” she said brightly and as if they hadn’t just met under … different circumstances.
She closed the door behind her and continued to speak to him like this was their first meeting of the day. “You’re up mighty early.”
Lust punched at him like a washed-out boxer hitting and missing. Only the hits landed in all the wrong spots and Quinn wanted to curse. He was more together than this, more mature than to be losing his mind over some shapely young woman. With his new train of thought the hair that she’d pulled back into a tight, still-wet ponytail was fresh and pretty and shouldn’t have agitated Quinn, but it did.
“Yeah, not by choice. Do you know where the tea bags are?”
“Oh, you couldn’t sleep, huh? My dad says warm milk is better for falling asleep. But I don’t like milk so I usually go for hot chocolate in those little packets.”
She talked as she moved around the kitchen, pulling down a mug then grabbing the silver-toned teakettle from the stove and sitting it inside the sink. When she switched on the water to fill it, Quinn got a look at her backside one more time. It was as if his gaze was automatically drawn there whenever she was around. The real kicker was, Quinn did not consider himself what Parker would call a “booty” man. Normally he tended to lean more toward breasts. Nikki had nice breasts, too. And he’d been lucky enough to see a lot more of both body parts mere minutes ago.
Inwardly, he groaned and wanted to kick himself. He couldn’t think about her in this way and told himself he wouldn’t any longer because it felt too much like a betrayal—like he was cheating on the one he knew damned well was no longer here. It was crazy, yes, but Quinn had thought that lately he’d been going a little crazy anyway. He had a past in Sweetland, one he wanted to leave in the past. And yet he’d been drawn back here for a present situation that he wasn’t quite sure he knew how to deal with. None of which made for a positive outlook on the future.
“I wasn’t having trouble sleeping,” he replied tightly, his throat more than a little dry.
“Really? So why are you up before dawn wandering around outside—” She stopped, pressed her lips tightly together, then began again. “Why are you standing in the kitchen looking for tea bags? Bad dream?” This was asked with what she tried to pass off as a smile but looked a little strained as color stained her cheeks.
Why that, too, was sexy and damned irresistible, Quinn had no idea. The quick conclusion would be he was in dire need of some female attention. Work had been keeping him extremely busy. He probably should have listened to his PA—physician’s assistant—Elena Matthews when she suggested he go to happy hour with them one Friday. All work and no play was obviously making Quinn a horny nutcase.
After clearing his throat and hopefully his sordid thoughts, Quinn replied, “I’m fixing a cup of tea for the man I found wandering around outside. He says he got up to pee and now he’s lost his bedroom.”
“Oh,” she said, closing her mouth with a snap. Then she flipped the nozzle down on the teakettle and moved it to a front burner on the stove. “Who is he? Does he live around here?”
“I don’t know his name, but I would presume he lives around here. Unless he’s been walking for days instead of just a few minutes.”
“Where’d you leave him? I hope not outside.” She sounded alarmed.
Quinn shook his head, a smile touching his lips at the absurdity of her question. He’d taken an oath to care for patients—people—so why would he leave one who was apparently not well outside?
“He’s in the living room being entertained by Dixi.”
“Oh, Sweet Dixi, she’s such a caring little thing.”
“Is she really?” Quinn asked before reaching across a counter to retrieve the sugar canister. He’d seen that while he’d been looking around trying to decide where the tea bags would be.
She pushed the mug toward him as she replied, “She’s a very loving dog. I was there when they were born and when Sweet Dixi finally came out, it was with her eyes open, like she was ready to take on the world.”
Quinn shook his head while he scooped sugar into the man’s cup, hoping he liked sweet tea. “She’s certainly more than ready to take me on.”
“And you’re not used to that, are you, Quinn? You’re used to everyone doing what you say, when you say. If they question you, or dare to go against you, they face your wrath.”
“Whoa,” he said, looking up to her. “Where did all that come from?”
Nikki shrugged. Her skin had a smooth appearance, like a very heavily creamed cup of coffee. It was in direct contrast with the black riot of curls on her head, yet this morning he could see that the subtle and the extreme worked together perfectly.
“Sorry,” she said, turning her back to him and going to stand near the stove. “Just an observation. I tend to make them and before I know it they come spilling out of my mouth. My dad says I have a hole in my lip.”
That’s not exactly what Quinn would say about her lips, but he was supremely thankful—and at the same time a little regretful—that she’d turned away from him. He’d begun staring as she talked, watching as her pert nose wrinkled when she was perplexed or her small lips moved quickly as she prepared to smile. For lack of something better to do with them, Quinn put his arms behind his back and clasped his hands. He hadn’t been this in tune to a female in a very long time.
“Well, that wasn’t an accurate observation of me, but we’ll have to discuss that another time,” he told her a few seconds after a loud crash came from the living room.
Thankful she’d dodged said discussion with him, Nikki breathed a sigh of relief. He’d already left the kitchen without the tea when she said, more to herself than to the empty kitchen, “No way, no how am I making a fool of myself for you again, Mr. Cantrell.”
* * *
“Why, Mr. Riley, what are you doing all the way on this side of town?” Nikki asked the moment she entered the living room with the cup of tea Quinn had left behind in his hurry to see what was going on.
The man she’d called Mr. Riley was dressed in pajama pants and slippers. When Quinn had come in he’d been on his knees trying to pick up the lamp either he or Dixi had knocked over. Neither of them made a confession as Quinn returned the lamp to the end table where it belonged. Now he sat on the couch with Sweet Dixi in his lap, one hand rubbing behind her ears. He looked a little weathered, his skin thin with preva
lent liver spots.
Nikki put the cup of tea down on the same table as the lamp and stood back to look at him. Undoubtedly she was watching the dog as well; they seemed to have a special bond.
“I should have figured you’d know him,” Quinn whispered to her conspiratorially since they were only a couple of feet apart.
“His wife is Margaret Riley. They have two children, Bill Junior and Katherine; neither one of them lives in Sweetland anymore. He lives over on Trailway, right around the corner from my parents,” she replied in her own James-Bond-ish whisper that almost made Quinn laugh.
“And he walked all the way over here?” he questioned instead. While Sweetland wasn’t a huge town, it had more than enough space for its one thousand or so inhabitants. Across town usually sounded a lot farther than it really was. But the walk from Sycamore to Trailway could easily take half an hour to forty-five minutes for a completely healthy eighteen- to possibly thirty-year-old. This man was certainly out of that age bracket, and Quinn wondered if he’d really been out that long.
“Been walking around Sweetland all my life,” Mr. Riley said quietly, looking down at Dixi.
“But you had no idea where you were walking to?” Quinn asked, moving closer to the man.
“I was looking for my bedroom,” he replied sullenly.
“Do you mind if I just check a few things out? I’m a doctor,” Quinn told him by way of explanation.
What he received in response was a clear glare from Mr. Riley. Dixi, of course, looked up at him with her own sort of frown, which made Quinn feel like a colossal jerk for extending the offer.
“Doctors don’t have nothing but bad news for me,” he told Quinn.
It was Nikki’s turn to lean over, but because Quinn was so much taller than her she had to put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him down to her level. He readily obliged and was rewarded with the warmth of her touch, the softness of her voice, and her sweet fragrance seeping upward into his nostrils so fast he was almost dizzy.
“He was diagnosed with brain cancer about a year ago. I hear he and Mrs. Riley just came back from another doctor in Annapolis who told them there’s nothing that can be done.”
With a sad sigh Quinn now understood exactly what was going on. He nodded to Nikki and stood upright, taking another step toward Mr. Riley. “Are you taking any medications, sir?”
“All they give me now is pills. I don’t know what they’re for. Peggy just tells me to put them in my mouth. I do what she says.”
Quinn nodded. “Did they talk to you about side effects?” he asked.
Mr. Riley shrugged.
“But you had chemo treatments, correct?”
Again the older man shrugged, this time with a wave of his hand to punctuate the fact that he didn’t want to talk about this. Quinn wasn’t offended by the actions; he knew they weren’t personal. A lot of his patients became surly and resentful toward the end. It was an unfortunate situation, but one he was more than used to dealing with.
“Can you call his wife?” he asked Nikki.
“Sure,” she said with a quick nod.
“Mr. Riley, you can sit right here and play with Dixi as long as you like. But I don’t want you to go anywhere. We’ll find your bedroom together. Right now, I’m going to run upstairs and get dressed. I’ll be right back. Is that okay?”
Dixi had come up on two legs; the other two were planted on Mr. Riley’s chest so she could lick his face.
“This is one happy dog you got. Pretty eyes just like my cousin’s dog. Can’t remember the type of dog it is, but I swear they’re the happiest things on four legs.”
“That certainly seems true,” Quinn said, watching the dog with the man.
Mr. Riley didn’t want to hear a word Quinn had to say, but he’d be just as content to sit there with his cup of tea and that puppy licking all over him for the rest of the day. At least he’d made a connection, had some sort of comfort at this time. It couldn’t be easy admitting to yourself you were dying and losing all your thoughts and general sensibilities in the interim. It was a cycle Quinn was all too familiar with. And as he walked up the steps to his room, he thought with fretful clarity, the familiarity of his personal connection to the disease wasn’t something that happy little pup down there could make go away.
Chapter 7
He was too damned handsome. And way too bossy for her to even consider liking. But she did—like him, that is, Nikki thought with a deep sigh. She’d just hung up the phone in the parlor after talking to Margaret Riley, who had been about to call the police to report William missing. The woman had sounded frazzled and tired. They’d been dealing with Mr. Riley’s cancer diagnosis for more than a year now.
She stood for a few seconds, wondering how it would feel to have someone you’d been married to for more than thirty years take sick and be told he was going to die. Of course, everyone was going to die at some point, but knowing that point was in a reachable distance was heartbreaking. Watching Mr. Riley sit in that living room without a clue as to where he was had been just as heartbreaking for her.
After the call, she went into her office to change into her work clothes. Of course her traitorous mind would pick now to think about him yet again.
She’d first noticed Quinn, really noticed him, when she was about nine. That would have made him seventeen and just about to graduate from high school. She remembered peering around the wall that now served as the entrance into the foyer from the living room and watching him stand in the doorway. He’d worn shorts then with dock shoes and a sleeveless T-shirt that showed off his muscled biceps. She’d been waiting for Savannah to come downstairs because they were going to a swim party at Meg Fitzgerald’s house.
Quinn stood in that doorway for the longest time just staring out to the afternoon like he was maybe waiting for someone, too. He hadn’t known she was looking but Nikki remembered thinking that this was exactly the kind of man she wanted to marry—tall, handsome, strong. In her little girl’s prepubescent mind he was everything.
And then he was gone and Nikki had to grow up and find another Prince Charming. Of course the next supposed love of her life had showed up driving a sleek silver Jaguar and had sugary-smooth lines that melted her heart and had her giving him everything he asked for, including her virginity. Needless to say that little soiree into the adult world had opened her eyes and hardened her heart.
This older Quinn was much more reserved and just a tad colder, she’d venture to say, as if his years in Seattle hadn’t been kind to him. Then, strangely enough, this morning—after the swim, the embarrassment, and the now-infamous arousal—she’d seen a more compassionate side of him. The way he’d talked to Mr. Riley said he understood what the man was going through and genuinely wanted to help.
“Get over it, Brockington,” she told herself as she rested her forehead against the glass of the front window. “He’s still so far out of your league he wouldn’t hear you if you yelled through a bullhorn.”
Quinn lived in a big city where there were undoubtedly gorgeous, sophisticated women throwing themselves at him left and right.
“To hell with him, he can just run right back to the big city with them,” she stated with more force and a little more volume.
Turning, she made sure she was still alone. The sun had completed its daily arrival and now sat cheerfully in the pale blue sky. Birds chirped their morning salute loudly as the rest of the town slowly awakened. There was a knock at the door, and Nikki cleared her throat and began walking to answer it. On her way she reaffirmed that she was a good and successful woman who had worked hard for what she wanted and received it. She didn’t need a man to validate or please her. She didn’t need Quinn Cantrell.
When she put her hand on the knob to pull the door open and head back into the living room, she was almost sure of everything she’d just told herself. Almost.
* * *
“So you think he’s losing his memory because of the chemo?” Margaret Riley asked, sitting
in the living room of The Silver Spoon.
It was just after seven in the morning now and Michelle had arrived to start preparing for the breakfast crowd. When she’d seen she wasn’t this morning’s only early riser, she joined them in the living room.
“I do,” Quinn said. He was standing near the sofa where Mr. and Mrs. Riley were sitting.
His arms were folded, one hand rubbing along the line of his jaw. The strong, imperceptible line of his jaw that held Nikki’s gaze longer than it should have.
“Wow, they didn’t tell us something like this could happen,” Mrs. Riley said, sitting back in the chair. “They give you so much information and then it all boils down to nothing.” Her voice cracked at the end, and Michelle was at her side instantly.
She rubbed her shoulders. “It’s okay, Mrs. Riley. Quinn’s a very good oncologist. If they told you something wrong I’m sure he can correct it.”
Quinn didn’t look like that was his plan. Then again, Nikki noted how concentrated his expression looked. He’d changed into jeans and a button-up white shirt and leather loafers that looked really expensive. She hoped Dixi behaved herself this time around. Even though his attire was relaxed, Quinn’s demeanor was as intense as ever.
“With a diagnosis of brain cancer there’s some memory loss or cognitive dysfunction to be expected. Without his records I can’t tell you specifically if it’s the chemo medication or just another stage in the cancer. Who’s your doctor?”
“Howard MacNamara at General Hospital in Annapolis. He’s been seeing Bill since they found the tumor.”
“Did he operate?” Quinn asked.
Margaret shook her head vehemently. “No. He said it was too big and in a bad spot. And because of Bill’s age, high blood pressure, and heart disease, he’d never survive going under.”
Quinn nodded.
“With your permission I’d like to give him a call, just to ask a couple of questions.”
“Sure,” Margaret said. “Go right ahead. You know your grandmother talked so much about you, about how you were healing people and all that. She said that since your girlfriend had died of cancer and then your father, too, you were determined to find some kind of cure. Well, I say God bless you, Quinn Cantrell. I don’t know what would have happened had Bill kept walking around.”
