But someday. She’d have a whole army of jumpers.
They got back into the Lexus, bringing fresh outdoor scents into the car’s new-smelling leather interior, their toes and fingers gradually warming with the heating engine. Annabel pulled off the stocking cap, hunched her shoulders, then let them drop, leaving the dreamy atmosphere and memories behind, feeling as if she were returning to the present after visiting another time.
“That was fun, Quinn, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He pulled his seat belt across his body. “I enjoyed it, too. Though I noticed you couldn’t help having an intimate moment with your cell in the middle of it.”
Of course he’d noticed. “Oh, yes. Well, the trip wasn’t time wasted after all, I had a great idea for new business.”
He stopped buckling. “Time wasted?”
Annabel’s stomach dropped. Why had she said that? “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. I really did have a great time.”
“Okay.” He clicked the buckle into place. “What was your idea?”
“Taking people in late November or early December to chop trees here, then take them back to their homes for hot drinks and finger food. They can decorate the tree right then, Christmas cheer, candlelight, fa-la-la…” She waited triumphantly for his reaction.
“Sounds perfect.” He put the Lexus in Reverse and turned it around in the driveway. “Just out of curiosity, when did this brilliant idea strike you?”
Annabel frowned. “Why do you want to know that?”
“Humor me.”
She shrugged. Okay. “Well, I don’t know exactly. It popped into my head when we were looking for a tree.”
“When you stopped walking?”
“Yes.” She nodded enthusiastically. “That was it. You’d just seen the cardinal and I had no idea what you were talking about because the idea had just hit me.”
He shifted into First and started off down the driveway. “I don’t know why I’m surprised.”
“What? What do you mean?” She couldn’t tell where that came from. How come the intuition stuff only went one way? She’d love a close-up glimpse into his brain.
“I thought you’d stopped walking because you were overcome by the mysterious and eerie beauty of the tiny scarlet messenger your dad sent to tell you which tree to cut.”
Annabel opened her mouth, then closed it because she had no idea what to say. Messenger? Was he serious? He believed in that stuff?
And he made her sound so…cold, and…unromantic. She wasn’t that bad. Was she?
“Oh. Well. I guess I was preoccupied.”
“I guess.”
“If it’s any consolation, I did think about the birds being a sign.”
“And?”
“Dismissed it as silly superstition and made my call. What did you expect from evil workaholic Annabel?”
He shook his head. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”
“Who, me?” Annabel grinned and dug her cell out of her pocket, poked it on and started dialing. “Well, I knew enough not to start yakking business out there, but now I do have to call Stefanie and—”
A light tug, and the cell phone disappeared from her hand into his. “No calls. You belong to me until lunch, and I’m planning to eat late today.”
“I belong to you?” She’d never in a billion years admit it, but the phrase had produced a tiny thrill in places that absolutely should not be thrilled by the concept. “As in your personal property? Your slave? Your—”
“Yes.” He lifted an eyebrow and glanced at her, utterly deadpan. “Me Quinn. You Quinn’s woman.”
Annabel burst out laughing. He turned off the phone and returned it to her, obviously enjoying her amusement.
“Oh, my gosh.” She let out a stray chuckle. “That nearly killed me.”
He came to a stop at the intersection of highways JK and JJ. “You should flirt with death more often. Take a look at yourself.”
“Huh? Why? I have hat head?”
He pointed to her window visor. “Do it.”
“Yes, sir.” She pulled down the visor and peered into the mirror.
My goodness.
Eyes lit, cheeks pink—well, nose pink, too, but hey, it was freezing out there. She looked…joyous. Radiant.
“You need to do this more.”
“Chop trees?”
“Yes. And whatever else I can get you out to do.”
“Ha.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I told you, this is it for daytime fun. No more. Nada. Finished. Zippo.”
“We’ll see.” He turned onto E. Capitol Drive in the village and parked on the street. “Not that I object to fun at night, you understand.”
“Mmm, me neither.”
Quinn switched off the engine and sat, watching the snow accumulating on the windshield. Then he turned, eyes dark and serious, the way she’d come to think of him looking most often, with the sexy intensity that turned her brain to polenta. “But I want more than that.”
Annabel sucked in a long, slow breath. “More?”
“More than just your nights.”
She frowned. What, he wanted her at his beck and call all day long? “You can’t have more than that.”
He took his hand out of its glove, caught her chin and leaned forward. “Are you going to fight me every step of the way, Annabel?”
“Absolutely.” It was all she could do to get the word out. His face was so close she could see the tiny lines in his lips, the speckles of black on his smooth-shaven jaw that would turn it near-gray by afternoon. She wanted him to kiss her so badly her lips were practically buzzing.
He released her chin, sat back in his seat and passed his hand through his thick dark hair. Then he turned toward her again, eyes amused.
“I look forward to it.” He pulled the handle on his door and shoved it out. “Let’s take a walk.”
She took a long, calming breath to regroup, then joined him outside with a bright smile, knowing she should fuss about getting home, but not caring enough to start.
They put the charged moment behind them almost immediately, strolling down the quaint commercial street, careful on the snowy sidewalks, trading memories of times Annabel nagged John hard enough to be included on his after-school trips into town with Quinn—usually when her mother had insisted the boys let her tag along. She’d felt so special and grown-up riding in the car with them, even though they’d teased her most of the way—or John had mostly. They’d bought groceries for her mom or stuff for school, and always stopped at Penny’s Candy Store for something sweet.
Her friend Tanya owned that store now. She’d refused to go in with Annabel’s plans. Annabel was “too ambitious. Thinking too big.” As if there were such a thing. But okay, fine. Tanya could sit here on the corner and sell bonbons to kids for the rest of her life if that’s what she wanted.
They were approaching the shop now, a wide store-front—wider than she remembered. Had Tanya expanded?
Yes. Annabel gazed through the windows, spotless except for a colorful wintry painting of children building a snowman, and felt a strange sensation in her belly. Tanya had taken over the shop next door, which must have been the old typewriter repair shop—no big surprise that went out of business.
She’d kept the original half as a candy store, but this was not the old banged-up plastic bins of penny candy Annabel remembered. This was all glass and brass and rows of dark and light chocolate. The commercial sugary stuff was still there, but now it was laid out in tasteful brass buckets, with black scoops and clear Plexiglas lids. Dried floral arrangements dotted the counters, holly and herbal and cedar wreaths hung on the walls, and a white wicker reindeer pulled a miniature Santa’s sleigh across the floor by the counter.
The other half of the store had been converted into a café, with delicate lacy black chairs and matching small round tables. The chalk menu listed—in perfect third-grade-teacher handwriting—cookies, scones and muffins, three flavors of freshly
brewed coffee, hot chocolate and two fruit-blended drinks. Colorful boxes of tea lined the counters. Patrons sat sipping coffee, reading the paper or chatting.
The place spelled warmth and cheer and homey comfort. And even on a weekday morning, there were people in and out, some lingering to chat with Tanya, who was laughing at something a woman had said to her. She looked great, relaxed, happy, slender and chic, her blond hair in a new wispy do that flattered her pretty features.
“Let’s go in.”
Annabel opened her mouth to say she’d rather keep walking when the door was held open for her. Quinn stood waiting, and there was no way she could refuse without making a fuss. What would she say? She and Tanya hadn’t parted badly. Well, not that badly. They’d just wanted different things.
She marched into the warm coffee, chocolate and cinnamon-scented interior and sent her sweetest candy smile to Tanya, who sent a sweet one right back.
“Annabel, how great to see yo-o-u!”
Annabel gritted her teeth behind her smile. She’d never been overly devoted to the way Tanya drew out certain words. “You, too, Tanya. The place looks incredible. You’ve done really well.”
“Oh, thanks, I’m really happy with it.” Her eyes went past Annabel and narrowed in flirty, exaggerated puzzlement. “Now you look just to-o-o familiar to be someone I don’t know.”
“Quinn Garrett. Long-ago exchange student at the Brightmans’ my senior year.”
“Quinn, of course!” She reached a beautifully manicured hand across the glass counter and shook—a little too long if anyone asked Annabel; but then nobody did. “It’s great to see you, to-o-o.”
The delicate tinkle of a bell and the sound of the front door opening ushered in new customers and a whoosh of cold air. Annabel could feel Quinn’s eyes on her and she tried to relax. She was undoubtedly giving off tense vibes and naturally he’d pick up on it. He picked up on everything; jeez, it was exhausting. And okay, sort of thrilling.
“Hi, Mrs. Sacrost, and hi, little Timm-y-y-y.”
“Hi, Tanya.” Mrs. Sacrost beamed first at Tanya and then at the toddler in her arms. “Okay, Timmy. Now.”
The little boy held out a wrinkled piece of paper with crayon scribbles on it.
“Oh! Is this for me-e-e?” Tanya took the paper reverently; Timmy snatched his hand back and buried his head in his mom’s shoulder.
His mom laughed. “All week he’s been asking to come and give you a Christmas picture.”
“How sweet.” Tanya pinned the scribbles to the bulletin board that hung on the wall behind the register, crowded with other kiddy pictures. “I’ll put it right here, on our special kids board, oka-a-ay?”
Mrs. Sacrost smiled as if she were in the presence of her personal savior. “That would be wonderful.”
“No problem. Oh, I’ve made up a bag of your family’s favorites, to save you time this week. Does this look good to you?”
Mrs. Sacrost peered into the bag, made some ecstatic noises, paid and left with the now-beaming toddler clutching an on-the-house cherry lollipop.
The funny feeling in Annabel’s stomach grew funnier…and less amusing. What was wrong with her? She was glad not to have this kind of shop. So dead-end. So…suffocating. Exactly the reason she’d backed out of their partnership.
“That was so sweet.” Tanya smiled her stunningly perfect smile at Annabel. “So many kids were giving me cards at the holiday times I decided to start posting them.”
“That’s really nice.” Annabel fidgeted and glanced around the store.
“Yes. I have a milk-and-cookies story time the first Monday of every month. The children come in with their moms in the afternoon. It’s really fun. I get to know a lot of my customers that way, as friends.”
“That’s great.” Annabel smiled and nodded, increasingly uncomfortable. That weird sadness, that empty strange feeling was at her again. She kept nodding. “Really great.”
More customers came in and greeted Tanya, who gre-e-e-ted them back. Annabel really, really wanted to get out of here. She was uncomfortable, her mood was plummeting and she couldn’t pinpoint why.
She felt Quinn close beside her. His arm slipped under her coat and stroked up and down her back, strong, warm strokes that immediately steadied her, made that strange panicky feeling dissipate. He might be freaky intuitive, but this time it helped immensely to know he was here and on her side.
“We have to get going.” His deep voice cut through the female gabble; hallelujah, he had picked up on her need to leave, and she didn’t have to say anything and risk betraying her discomfort to Tanya. “We just stopped by to say hello. I have to get Annabel back to work.”
“Oh, how’s that goi-i-ing?”
Annabel stretched her lips, hoping the smile looked more natural than it felt. “Really well. Holidays are crazy busy times.”
“Tell me about it. All the shopping and parties and sledding with the kids, all the holiday events in the community…”
Annabel stared at her. Shopping? Parties? Community events? The woman had time to do all those things? Her business couldn’t be going that well.
“Oh, wait, before you go.” Tanya selected a long plastic-stemmed, red-foil-wrapped chocolate rose from a vase of them on the counter and handed it to Quinn, then winked at Annabel and gave a cutesy wiggly-fingered wave. “For the lady. No charge.”
“Thanks, Tanya.” Quinn ushered Annabel out into the blessedly fresh cold air. She took a few deep lungfuls, trying to clean out whatever weirdness had gotten into her.
“For you.” He presented the chocolate rose with a slight bow. “Not to stop and smell this time, to stop and eat.”
Annabel bowed in return. “Thank yo-o-ou, you’re so swe-e-e-et.”
Quinn quirked an eyebrow. “Looks like she’s doing well for herself.”
“Yes. This is what she wanted.” Annabel rolled the chocolate rose back and forth across her lips as they walked back toward the car. “We almost went into business together.”
“Let me guess. You wanted more than this.”
“Yes.” She braced herself. He was going to ask why and she’d have to justify her goals to him all over the place at a time she was feeling strangely vulnerable and didn’t want to have to defend herself.
Instead he walked in silence until they reached the Lexus and he opened her door. “I’ll take you home now.”
Annabel blew out a stream of white breath, expecting relief at being able to get back to work, but the weirdness only got weirder. Home. To her beige office with the brilliant color of Quinn’s flowers reminding her of this morning. Reminding her of him.
She put on a huge smile and slid into the car. “That would be great.”
Except it didn’t feel great. It felt…lonely.
6
QUINN PULLED BACK out onto the snowy road; the Lexus’s back wheels spun briefly, then settled. He drove down E. Capitol slowly, adjusting for the occasional sliding, snow-induced detours the car wanted to make, then took a left on Josiah Street. Yes, he was taking Annabel home, but he had one more stop to make, one he wanted to make for her sake, but also in some way for his. Coming back to Hartland, revisiting haunts from the year he’d spent here, with the intention of reconnecting Annabel with her past, had brought memories back that had an unexpectedly powerful impact on him as well.
He’d thought of the Brightmans often over the years, called occasionally at first and sent a caed at Christmas for the better part of a decade. But he found it easier not to dwell on them, easier not to have to contrast that close, joyful experience of family with his own.
Now, the contrast had become something different and more profound. Rediscovering Annabel and trying to make her stop and take a look at her life had made him do the same. Yes, he had a good balance of work and enjoyment. Yes, he spent plenty of social time, played racquetball, tennis, golf, third base on the company softball team. Went to restaurants, dated occasionally, had a small circle of friends he could call to go see a
movie or have a drink with when the urge struck, though he was and always would be a loner at heart.
But this connection with someone who knew him before he became an international commodity—this he didn’t have in his seemingly perfect life. And hadn’t missed it until he’d spent time with this aggravating, arousing, amazing woman he had known when he was barely a man, and hadn’t had the luxury to appreciate since.
He wanted that luxury now, and damned if Annabel wasn’t doing her best to keep him from it. Would she fight him every step of the way? He’d known the answer before the words left his mouth. What he hadn’t expected was the question that popped into his head as he was asking.
Every step of the way…to where?
Annabel’s self-actualization, was that all he meant?
No. He wanted more than just a physical relationship, all she seemed presently equipped to handle. Being around her, he felt like an underground-dweller finally given the chance for sunlight and fresh air. He wanted to break through to her surface, immerse himself in her, breathe her, feel her warmth on him in unlimited quantities.
Not have to manipulate and fight and plot to control, just to get her to spend the morning with him.
Did he respect what she was trying to accomplish with Chefs Tonight? Absolutely. He was the last person to insist or even think that she should settle for less than what she wanted. But the desperate need for speed, the impatience, the restless, angry yearning for what she was after spelled nothing but Napoleon-sized trouble to him. Goals were necessary, inevitable and important to anyone with a good business plan. But one had to enjoy the process, too, and he wanted to be in on her enjoyment. Go with her while she reached for what she wanted, and got it. As a friend, as a lover, as more—he still wasn’t sure. But screwing her every night, between her last appointment or phone call or e-mail and her wake-up-and-start-in-again alarm, wasn’t going to be enough for him. Now he had to make sure it wouldn’t be enough for either of them.
Before I Melt Away Page 8
