The question terrified her and she refused to consider it. No way. Not possible. Uh-uh. Him understanding would imply that he mattered, and he didn’t. She’d proved that yesterday when they’d had sex. She’d held back the way she always did. The only difference was he’d noticed.
She crossed to the window and stared out at the street. Half the men she’d been with hadn’t even wondered about her enjoying the process or not. A few had been worried, but she’d brushed them off. The rest she’d convinced that they’d simply missed her “event.” Quinn had been the only one to push back.
She closed her eyes as she remembered his anger and his persistence. What he didn’t know—what she would never tell him—was how close she’d come to giving in. She’d wanted to, and that realization scared her to death.
Her eyes snapped open. “What’s up with all this Quinn crap?” she demanded of herself. “Stop thinking about him.”
Good advice she couldn’t seem to take. While his badgering had been annoying, she had to admit that it had been sweet of him to care so much. He’d—
She turned and glanced at the clock. It was nine. Maybe he wasn’t coming.
She told herself she would be relieved if he didn’t show up. Better for both of them to end things now. Not that there was anything to end. But if there was, it should stop immediately. Yes, the lessons had been great but—
The front door opened. D.J. turned and ignored the sense of relief that swept through her when Quinn entered the room. Her gaze swept over him, taking in his easy smile, the athletic shorts and T-shirt, the flowers in his hand, the way he—
Her gaze snapped back to the flowers. Outrage filled her. “What the hell are those?” she demanded.
“Good morning to you, too,” he said and put the dozen or so red roses on her desk.
She couldn’t believe it. He’d brought her flowers?
“Of all the insensitive, stupid things you could have done,” she told him, her temper growing by the second. “Flowers? You brought me flowers? Oh, right. Because they’re going to make up for everything that’s happened. Gee, I should have thought of that kind of therapy before. A few flowers will really heal my past.”
She walked around the desk and glared at him. “Were you even listening to what I said yesterday? Don’t you think this ridiculous gesture trivializes the story just a little bit? Or should I be grateful you thought about it at all? How like a man.”
She wanted to squash him like a bug. She wanted to shove the roses in his face until he choked on them.
“You have no idea what I went through,” she continued angrily. “You grew up in some perfect hometown where everyone knew your name. I was stuck in foster care because my mother killed my father and then herself. Imagine what the kids at school talked about when I walked into a room. The teachers kept waiting for me to explode or something, and there was an entire team of psychologists trying to make sure I was healed. Well here’s a news flash. You don’t heal from something like that. You learn to live with it and then you move on.”
Quinn didn’t move, didn’t stop smiling at her, didn’t say a word until she’d wound down enough to demand, “What?”
He nodded at the flowers. “They have nothing to do with your past. I always bring flowers after I see a woman naked. It seems like the polite thing to do. I ordered them just for you. They still have their thorns. I thought you’d like that.”
D.J.’s mouth dropped open. She closed it, then felt herself flush.
She was an idiot. “Oh.”
“Is that it?”
She shrugged.
“How about thanking me?” he asked. “The thorns are a pretty cool touch.”
She smiled. “They are. Thank you.”
Quinn shook his head. “Okay, I say we start the workout with you spending about twenty minutes jumping rope. You have way too much energy you need to burn off.”
D.J. nodded and led the way toward the back. He followed. When they stepped into the workout room, he grabbed her hand and pulled her around so she faced him.
“Are we okay?” he asked.
He’d brought her flowers. No guy had ever done that before. Not that she needed flowers, but it had been sweet of him to go to all that trouble.
“I’m sorry I overreacted,” she said.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes.”
“Good. But don’t think apologizing gets you out of jumping rope.” He released her hand. “Get going.”
She grinned and headed for the equipment locker. Maybe telling him about her past hadn’t been such a big mistake. Maybe everything was going to work out just fine.
* * *
A week later D.J. couldn’t figure out if things were better or worse between herself and Quinn. While he’d never mentioned that night, the sex or her confession, she couldn’t convince herself he’d forgotten anything that had happened or anything she’d said. Or maybe she was giving him more credit than he deserved. Maybe she was the problem. Because ever since they’d done the wild thing and she’d spilled her emotional guts, she’d been far too aware of him.
When they worked out, she noticed every brush of his hand, every whisper of masculine scent. When they talked, she studied his conversation for nuance and hidden meaning. Yes, she was getting stronger and learning more about keeping safe than she’d hoped, but she was also being driven to distraction by his presence.
“So stop thinking about him,” she told herself as she turned in front of Rebecca’s house and walked to the front door.
Her friend let her in before she could knock.
“I was watching for you,” Rebecca said. “I sent the kids out with Austin, so it’s just us for lunch.” She smiled. “I thought about having doughnuts, in honor of our temporarily halted morning tradition, but that was just too strange for an actual meal.”
“I wouldn’t have minded,” D.J. told her as she followed her back to the kitchen. “You know, you didn’t have to stop coming by and visiting me.”
Rebecca crossed the kitchen, pausing by the island where she’d already put out ingredients for salad. “Of course I did. Whatever we have to say to each other can wait until we get together for lunch or talk on the phone. This is the first time I’ve ever seen you interested in a man. I’m not getting in the way of that. You know where everything is. Help yourself to whatever you want to drink.”
“Thanks.” D.J. headed for the cupboard beside the dishwasher and pulled out a glass. “Just for the record, I’m not interested in Quinn.”
Rebecca grinned. “Just for the record, you’re lying.”
D.J. ignored her and walked to the refrigerator. After filling her glass with ice, she opened the door and pulled out a diet soda.
Interest implied that she wanted something from Quinn, and she didn’t. Not really. Okay, he confused her and she couldn’t stop thinking about him, but that didn’t mean he was important to her in any way. He was just...confusing.
“He’s not sticking around,” she reminded her friend. “His stay in town is temporary.”
Rebecca cut up an avocado. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“If you’re pushing for us to have a relationship, I’m telling you that it would have to be temporary.”
“Not necessarily. He won’t be staying in the military forever.”
Good point. “He’s not my type.”
“You don’t date enough to have a type.”
Another good point. “Enough about me. Let’s talk about you. How are the kids?”
Rebecca grated cheese over the salad, then handed the bowl to D.J. “Please take that to the table and don’t for a second think you can change the subject. The kids are fine, Austin is fine, and I’m fine. Now, back to you and Quinn.”
“There is no ‘me and Quinn.’ There’s just me.”
“So the fact that I see his rental car at your office every morning is insignificant?”
“Absolutely. He’s working out with me, that’s all.
”
Rebecca uncovered a plate of sandwiches and set them next to the salad. “Half-dressed sweaty bodies rolling around together? It sounds romantic to me.”
“Then you need to work on your definitions.” D.J. slumped down in a chair.
Rebecca sat across from her.
They couldn’t be more opposite, D.J. thought. Rebecca wore a light, summer dress, jewelry and a flower in her hair. D.J. had pulled on khaki pants, a tank top and sandals. The closest she came to jewelry was the sports watch she sometimes remembered to strap on. Her hair was pulled back because that kept it out of her way. She felt as feminine and delicate as a machine gun.
Rebecca wore makeup, painted her nails, baked, sewed her kids Halloween costumes and acted as room mother in all her children’s classrooms. D.J. had three black belts, no family and not even a houseplant to act as a pet.
Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, she wanted more. She wanted to be normal—like the other women she saw. Sometimes she wondered how her life would have been different if she hadn’t grown up afraid. If she’d never learned that men couldn’t be trusted.
“What are you thinking?” Rebecca asked as she scooped salad onto her plate. “You’re looking fierce.”
“I’m wondering how you can do all this without being afraid.”
Rebecca frowned. “Of what?”
“Men. What they can do to women. How much stronger they are.”
“I’ll admit there are criminals out there, and bad men, but they’re not a part of our everyday life. We don’t live in a war zone, D.J. Sometimes I think you forget that.”
“Maybe.”
“You see the worst side of people. In your class you help women who have been abused or battered. While I admire what you do, it doesn’t give you a balanced view of humanity.”
“You want balanced? How about the percentage of woman who are beaten by their husbands? Or the kids who—”
Rebecca raised her hand. “That’s my point. You live in a world of statistics. Of bad things. But most of us don’t. We have regular lives with great guys. Oh, sure, they can be annoying but they’re still honest, caring men. They’re good parents and would rather cut off their own arms than hurt their wives or kids.”
D.J. wanted to believe her. She knew in her head that most men weren’t the enemy. The problem was, she didn’t seem to run into many of them.
She wondered what her friend would say if she knew what had happened that night in Quinn’s hotel room. Rebecca would be far more shocked by D.J.’s inability to let go than by the fact that she’d had sex. No doubt Rebecca assumed D.J.’s physical prowess extended into the bedroom. Most people probably thought that.
“There’s too much surrender in marriage, and it all happens on the woman’s part.”
Rebecca bit into her sandwich and chewed. “I disagree,” she said when she’d swallowed. “Both partners surrender. And with the right man it can be a wonderful thing.”
“Oh, please.”
“It’s true. Being vulnerable and open to a man, while he’s vulnerable and open to you, is the purest form of connection. Each of you can hurt the other, and you don’t. That’s what love is. Sharing secrets, trusting. Trust is the proof of love. Without it love doesn’t exist.”
“I’m not interested in love.”
“Of course you are,” Rebecca said quietly. “But the fear is greater than the wanting. I’ve always thought that was sad. I want you to find someone and be happy.”
D.J. bristled. “I don’t need some man to make me happy.”
“Maybe not, but you need someone to crawl inside of you and prove that you can stop running.”
D.J. poked at her salad. “This is a stupid conversation.”
“Quinn’s an interesting guy.”
“None of this is about him.”
Rebecca smiled. “Of course it isn’t. As you said—he’s leaving soon. Of course he would be someone good for you to practice on. So when the right one came along, you’d know what to do.”
“There is no right one.”
Rebecca’s smile broadened. “For a woman who thinks she knows everything, you’re surprisingly ignorant of matters of the heart.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You’re already falling for him, D.J. I can see it from here.”
“No way. He doesn’t matter.” He didn’t. He couldn’t. She didn’t let anyone matter. Not ever.
“Sell it somewhere else.”
D.J. ignored her. There was nothing going on between her and Quinn. Okay—they’d had sex, but so what? It had been a week and he hadn’t tried to do it again. Which was how she preferred things. The last thing she needed was some guy pawing her. It was disgusting. She much preferred being alone. At least she always had...until lately.
CHAPTER 11
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” D.J. told him as he held open the heavy glass door.
“I know. It’s pretty special.”
Quinn glanced around at the mall. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in a suburban shopping center. Whenever he had to buy a gift—usually for his mother at Christmas or her birthday—he used the Internet.
The Glenwood Mall had been recently refurbished. Skylights flooded the two-story structure with plenty of light. While there were a few families out and about, most of the occupants seemed to be teenagers and retired couples. An interesting mix.
“You tricked me,” D.J. said with a laugh.
Quinn turned his attention back to her and grinned. “I told you I was more than just a pretty face.”
She rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t kidding about shopping.”
“That’s fine.”
“Won’t going into a store give you hives or something? Don’t all guys hate to shop?”
“I don’t do it very often. I think I can survive any autoimmune-system reaction. If I don’t, I’m sure you know first aid.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Just don’t expect mouth-to-mouth.”
He snapped his fingers. “Bummer. I had this whole fantasy about keeling over in men’s wear.”
“I’m sure one of the burly guards would be happy to save your life.”
“I’d rather you did it.”
She shook her head and walked to the directory. Quinn followed. When he’d invited D.J. to dinner, he’d expected her to blow him off. But instead of refusing him outright, she’d said she had to shop for Rebecca’s birthday. When he’d offered to accompany her and buy her dinner, she’d accepted. He’d been surprised and she’d looked a little stunned herself. Still, he considered her agreement progress. Not that D.J. made anything easy.
“You want to shop first or eat?” he asked.
“Where are we eating?”
“The food court.”
She looked at him and blinked. “You’re kidding?”
He put a hand on her arm. “I know it’s going to be exciting for you, but try to control yourself. It gets embarrassing when you scream and jump all over me.”
“The food court?”
“Sure. I’ll let you have anything you want, and you can even have ice cream for dessert.”
“I’m overwhelmed.”
He grinned. “I thought you might be. And if any of the teenage boys try to hit on you, I’ll scare them off.”
She smiled. “I can’t imagine anything more wonderful.”
He tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I do know how to show a lady a good time.”
“Gee, with all that to look forward to, I guess we should shop first and let the anticipation build.”
“That’s my girl.”
D.J. mumbled something under her breath. Quinn thought it best not to ask her to repeat it.
She led the way into a large department store. The main floor was a maze of cosmetics, women’s shoes and jewelry. Quinn thought he caught sight of the men’s department tucked into a far corner, but he wasn’t sure and D.J. didn’t head in that direction. Instead sh
e circled the cosmetics, then hovered around the perfume counter.
“I never know what to get Rebecca,” she admitted. “We had lunch yesterday and I kept looking at her, thinking we have absolutely nothing in common.”
“So get something you’d hate, and she’ll probably love it.”
D.J. shook her head. “Gee, thanks for the advice.”
She picked up a cut-glass bottle and sniffed, then grimaced and put it back down. Quinn understood her concern. From what he could tell the only thing similar about Rebecca and D.J. was that they were both female. But the relationship didn’t surprise him. Rebecca provided D.J. with balance, although he doubted Miss Prickly would ever admit to it.
“She’s so girly,” D.J. muttered. “It’s just...”
She didn’t want to get it wrong. Quinn didn’t have to hear the words to know what she was thinking. She might rag on Rebecca, but she cared about her. D.J. didn’t let many people into her world, but when she did, they were in for life.
He wondered where he was on her radar. Not the inner circle. But someone she trusted—at least a little. She’d been willing to get naked with him, which meant a lot, even if she hadn’t been willing to let herself enjoy the experience. Even more telling, she’d told him about her past.
Quinn still didn’t know what to do with the information. Her old man was dead, so finding him and beating the crap out of him wasn’t an option, although it had been his first response. He had no patience for those who preyed on the small and weak. If a man wanted to pick a fight, he should do it with someone his own size.
He knew that D.J.’s past had left her broken, and not just in her bones. He wanted to pull her close until she healed. Yeah, right. Because he was so mentally sound himself.
“Let’s check out some of the boutiques,” she said, leading the way out of the anchor store.
“What does Rebecca like?” he asked. “What about shoes? Aren’t all women into shoes?”
D.J. raised her eyebrows. “Have you ever bought shoes for a woman.”
“No.”
“I suggest you never try.”
“Fair enough.”
He glanced down at her feet. She wore sandals. He liked looking at her bare feet. But with D.J. he pretty much liked looking at bare anything. Even in jeans and a tank top, which she had on tonight, she was sexy as hell. He wanted her naked, in his bed and screaming out her pleasure. As this was his fantasy and unlikely to happen anytime soon, he added the thrill of her grabbing him by the hips and begging him to take her.
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