by Penny Reid
Quinn—or, our old nickname for him, McHotpants—hovered at the entrance to the room. He nodded once at Nico, then his cold glare followed Elizabeth as she claimed her seat. They shared a stare of mutual dislike that was quickly eclipsed by Janie standing from a comfy chair and stepping between them, shining light on the shadows of their showdown.
The change, in both Quinn as he looked at Janie, and in Elizabeth as she watched them together, was staggering.
He looked like a different person when he was with Janie. His features softened, and he reached for her as if he couldn’t stand to be in the same room with her and not touch her.
It made me sigh. There would be lots of sighing tonight, apparently.
They shared a private conversation at the edge of the room, which we all tried our best to ignore, and I turned my attention to Elizabeth.
She snuck glances at them, her expression warming with approval. It was clear that—though Elizabeth was no fan of Quinn on his own—she thoroughly approved of Quinn plus Janie.
Quinn’s entrance made very little impact on the rest of the group; at this point, we were all used to his random arrivals during our Tuesday meetup. He didn’t usually stay long and very rarely offered any of us more than a nod in greeting.
Therefore, the conversation restarted where it had been abandoned.
“He told you this? That he likes to be tied up and squeal like a pig?” Nico prompted Ashley to clarify.
Ashley nodded. “Yes, the pervert. You can use it for your standup routine if you like. I don’t care if he does look like he’s carved out of cream cheese, I am not into that bedroom dominance stuff.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “Getting tied up can be fun.” This comment earned her a heated and wicked glance from her husband.
“I agree.” Fiona nodded.
Kat and I shared a wide-eyed look, which earned us an incredulous glare from Fiona. “What? You don’t think married people with kids can be kinky in the bedroom?”
I held my hands up. “I didn’t say anything.”
Janie, her conversation with Quinn apparently at an end, walked back to her seat and picked up her crochet work in progress. Other than Nico, she was the only crocheter in our group, which somehow made a lot of sense.
“I agree,” she said.
Marie turned to Janie, glanced at Ashley, then back at Janie. “You agree with what?”
“Getting tied up is fun. You should try it, Ashley. Just make sure you don’t use hemp ropes. They leave marks.”
Mouths dropped across the room, and all eyes turned to Quinn, who was still standing in the entryway.
He returned our stares, appeared unconcerned and/or bored, and added, “She’s right. They do.”
Elizabeth burst out laughing, and the rest of the room followed suit. I threw my head back and smacked the couch cushion beside me. It felt so good to laugh. Laughter is the best therapy for all ailments except bronchitis.
I loved these ladies—inclusive of Nicoletta.
The room both quieted and erupted in conversation, and I smiled as I finished the last stitch of the mitten thumb.
The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, and I glanced up and around. That’s when I noticed Quinn’s glacial glare focused with laser-like intensity in my direction. He appeared to be surveying me—or something in my vicinity. I was confused by his perusal, so I twisted around to see what caught his attention. When I turned back, he was still glaring in my direction.
“Sandra. I need to talk to you.”
My eyebrows supersonic bolted to my hairline. “Uhh…me?” I pointed to myself.
I would be lying if I said Quinn made me nervous. He didn’t make me nervous. He kind of scared the crap out of me. And I wasn’t alone in my wariness of the guy.
Janie, as his wife, was obviously exempt.
Elizabeth didn’t like him, and found him domineering and completely intolerable. Regardless, Nico and Quinn seemed to get along fine.
Fiona wasn’t scared of anyone, including Quinn.
But Ashley, Kat, Marie, and I all thought he was frightening.
Hot, but frightening.
First of all, he stood six feet forever in the sky. Secondly, he hardly spoke and never smiled—well, almost never. He smiled at Janie. Thirdly, he was so handsome it should have been a felony; he was uncomfortably good-looking—meaning, his looks made everyone uncomfortable. Additionally, it wasn’t a large leap to assume his security business wasn’t completely legitimate.
He was also just one of those people who looked untouchable, like a marble statue. Something about the hawkish, perfect sharp angles of his face, the breadth of his shoulders, and the light blue of his eyes—I wasn’t kidding when I called his glare glacial.
“Yes.” His jaw flexed. “Come with me.” He turned and motioned for me to follow him into the hall.
Ah yes, he also liked to order people around.
I glanced around the room and all eyes rested on me except Janie, who didn’t seem at all concerned about the interaction and was therefore absorbed in her crochet project, and Elizabeth, who was shooting daggers at Quinn’s back.
I shrugged, set my knitting to the side, and shoved my hands in the pockets of my hoodie as I stood. Tonight I was wearing my Knitters and Crocheters, Give Peace A Chance T-shirt; it was just visible between the open flaps of my hoodie.
I walked passed Dan—the guard who had been assigned to Marie some weeks ago after the body builder incident—and gave him a small smile. He returned it and followed me out into the hall.
Once we were there, the three of us—scary Quinn, nice Dan, and apprehensive me—huddled together in the walkway between the elevator and Elizabeth and Nico’s penthouse.
Quinn crossed his arms. I did the same.
Quinn studied me. I looked at Dan.
Dan shrugged. I looked at Quinn.
“What’s going on?” I said
“I got a call today. Can you guess who it was?” Quinn’s icicle eyes glimmered as they moved between mine.
“Your mom?”
Dan snorted, then covered it with a cough. Quinn didn’t remove his eyes from mine.
“No.”
“My mom?”
Dan turned halfway away, glanced at the ceiling. Quinn did not look amused.
“Sandra.” Quinn’s voice held a warning. “I don’t like it when the NSA calls me. Why is the NSA calling me?”
I inhaled slowly and thought about making a joke about how the NSA doesn’t really need to call anyone; they just interrupt while you’re already on the phone.
I decided against it.
“They didn’t tell you why they were calling?”
“Do you need a guard?” He almost looked concerned; and he ignored my question. “I’ve already talked to Dan about it. We can keep you safe.”
“I don’t need a guard. I’m not in any danger.” I uncrossed my arms and reminded myself that Quinn—despite his imposing appearance—was not the enemy. No one was the enemy. We were all friends. We just needed to learn how to play together.
“What has Alex Greene told you?”
I crossed my arms again. Maybe I’d let my guard down too quickly. “About what?”
“About who he really is, what he’s done, who he knows.”
“Is the NSA putting pressure on you because I used your apartment downstairs?”
He didn’t nod and he didn’t shake his head. Rather, he issued me a non-committal head bob. “Yes. They want to tap the apartment. In fact, they’ve already tried to. And now they want my cooperation.”
I sighed, rubbed my forehead with my fingertips, and studied the carpet without seeing it. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ll stall them.” Quinn’s voice was quiet, contemplative.
I was surprised and my face showed it. “Thank you.” I searched his expression, couldn’t help my next question. “Why would you do that?”
“Are you involved with him?”
I didn’t respond. I just impressed myself by holding
his gaze without looking away.
Silence stretched during which he read the answer in my eyes. “I see….” He nodded. “Then I assume you know what you’re getting into.”
My gaze fell at his words because I didn’t want him to see the truth. I didn’t know what I was getting into.
Then Quinn said, “I know who he is.”
My eyes snapped to his.
He held my gaze again, studying me. I suspected he was keenly adept at reading people.
After a protracted moment, Quinn shuffled backward a step and leaned against the wall behind him. “In fact, in the hacker community, everyone knows who he is. If you want information about him, just let me know.”
My eyes darted to Dan. He was watching me with cautious compassion.
“I think I know….” I pulled my attention from Dan’s warm, brown eyes, and reengaged with Quinn’s cold, blue ones. “I think I know who he is, but I realize that I’ll never really understand. I don’t exist in that world, so I don’t imagine I’ll ever be able to entirely comprehend his…his abilities.”
Quinn nodded, but then surprised me by saying, “I could use him.”
This caused me to flinch, my eyelashes to flutter, my mouth to fall open. “Uh…what?”
“I could use him—Alex—if he ever wanted a job.”
“Uh, I don’t think the NSA would….”
“They would. I have my ways.”
“But they’re not actually part of….”
“Everyone in Washington is answerable to a committee.” His words were flat, almost bored sounding, as though this part of the conversation was pointless. “Just tell him, tell Alex, that I can help. If either of you need help, just let me know.”
I stared at Quinn for a long moment, my complete shock entirely visible on my face. “Why? Why would you help him?”
Quinn’s mouth curved in the faintest of smiles and his eyes lost a bit of their focus. An expression resembling admiration passed over his features. “If you actually understood who he was, you wouldn’t ask me that question.”
CHAPTER 21
Wednesday’s Horoscope: You may feel as if you can’t gain total control over your own priorities lately. Accept your current situation by honoring what you cannot change; you may find something better through compromise.
WE MET IN the hospital cafeteria again.
I was eating a chocolate bar, because…sexual frustration. I was ready to explode. I needed physical contact. I craved it. It had reached watching Jar Jar Binks levels of frustration. In fact, I was almost tempted to cancel the date without some assurances of progression.
But I didn’t, because…Alex.
When his face appeared, some of the shrewish aggravation I’d been stewing in since Saturday eased. I noted his careless swagger, how his lips were slightly parted, and the way he peered at me through his black, horn-rimmed glasses like they were a microscope and I was an awe-inspiring, scientifically fascinating, once-in-a-lifetime discovery of exquisite beauty.
He claimed the seat across from mine and reached for my chocolate bar. He took a big bite, his mouth pulling to the side as he chewed. I loved how he chewed. I could watch him chew food—just chew—for hours. Obviously, I needed my head examined.
“Hello, Sandra.”
“Hello, Alex.”
He smiled.
Then we both began talking at the same time.
“I was thinking….”
“What if we…?”
We both stopped, huffed a little laugh, and he motioned for me to continue my thought.
“I’m kind of tired. What do you think about staying in at my place, watching a movie?”
His jaw set, and he didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. He didn’t like the idea.
“Hey.” I reached across the table, my palm up, and allowed my expression to demonstrate how tired I was. “It’s been a long week. Do you think we could take a night off from everything?”
He glanced at my hand then reverently cradled it between his. He began massaging my fingers. “I’d like to talk to you.”
“Can it wait? Think how nice it would be to just be together and relax.”
“We’d probably have an audience.”
“So?” I shrugged. “We’re not going to be doing anything but watching a movie.”
He was teetering on the edge of making a decision; I could tell because his mouth was open like he was ready to speak, but he hadn’t decided what to say.
I gave him another push. “I have hot chocolate, and I have a T-shirt that I wear when I drink hot chocolate.”
“Really? What does it say?”
“It says Hot or not, I love chocolate.”
He smiled at me, but his expression didn’t convey the appreciation I’d been expecting or that I usually received for my hot or not pun. Then I remembered that he didn’t know much about pop culture or Internet memes.
I rolled my eyes and sighed, stood, and pulled him with me. “Come on. Let’s go. On the way to my place I’ll tell you all about an awful website called hotornot.com, and why our society is on the verge of moral collapse.”
***
UPON ENTERING MY apartment, I began to strip.
This was not atypical for me. I liked to change into my sleeping clothes as soon as was feasible. Anything that placed me closer to sleepy time made me happy.
First, my jacket came off along with my scarf, hat, gloves, and boots. Alex trailed me into the apartment; I could feel his hesitation.
Tonight, I didn’t care if they were watching or listening. Alex wasn’t going to be giving me any sweet lovin’ anyway, so no concerns about leaked sex tapes…yet.
Also, if they were watching us tonight, it was going to be a boring show: microwave dinners, popcorn, hot chocolate, and Star Wars in the Blu-ray player.
Next came my socks. I ventured a bit further and pulled off my sweater and shirt, then my pants. I draped them over the back of my comfy chair and heard a stifled choke from behind me.
Alex stood at the precipice to the room, his gaze on my bare legs and back. I glanced at my plain purple cotton bra and underwear. They were just as modest, if not more so, as a bathing suit. I turned toward him with a question on the tip of my tongue and he flinched. He then averted his eyes and looked everywhere but at me.
I frowned, not prepared for his overreaction, and tried to think of something to make the moment less uncomfortable. “Um…do you want something to drink?”
“I was promised hot chocolate.” His voice was strained.
“Okay, I’ll start the water.”
He studied my bulletin board. “You’re not going to get dressed first?”
I shrugged. “I guess I could.”
His gaze abruptly met mine. “You should.”
The heat in his eyes surprised me, and then I laughed. If old cotton underwear could get him this worked up, I should have tried it two weeks ago.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Bond?” I posed against the chair, made my voice husky, raised an eyebrow. “Are you afraid for my health and safety? Concerned I’ll catch a cold?”
Holding my gaze, Alex peeled off his jacket and boots. His long-sleeved shirt followed, leaving him bare chested. I dug my nails into the palms of my hands to keep my eyes from straying.
“Keeping your pants on?”
“I have on nothing under these pants.”
Oh…ideenentgleisung!
My eyes widened. I couldn’t help it. What had I been thinking about? I had no idea. I’d completely lost my thought.
“Ah.” I nodded, took a tentative step toward him, trying to remember what happened right before he told me he was going commando. “I see.”
“What now?” he asked.
I wanted to say Now the pants!
But I knew that approach would never work, because it seemed, more than anything, that he didn’t want us to have an audience. I sighed and glanced around the room, taking in my coffee table, chairs, small kitchen table, couch….
Then I had an idea.
I turned to him. “Quick, help me move the coffee table to the side of the room. Then grab two of my dining room chairs. Put them here….” I gestured to the space at one side of the room in front of the couch; then to the other. “…And here.”
“What are we doing?”
“You’ll see.” I grinned as we hefted the coffee table out of the way. “Next, put the couch cushions on the floor directly in front of the sofa.”
Alex obeyed, which gave me a few free moments to peruse his chest, back, and stomach, and my mouth went dry. He had a nice chest—a really nice chest. So far, it was tied for first place with his stomach, face, neck, arms, back, shoulders, and hands for the most lickable part of his body.
Everything I’d seen so far was.
With reluctance, I tore my eyes from my lusty examination and jogged into my bedroom. Once inside I changed my underwear into comfy yellow-and-blue Star Wars-printed boy shorts and pulled off my bra. I was spared from having to decide which occasion shirt to wear because my hot chocolate shirt was dirty. Therefore, I selected my Episode I, A New Hope shirt and shimmied into it.
I yanked on my favorite pair of knee-high wool socks, grabbed several blankets and sheets, and sprinted back into the living room.
Alex was standing apart from the mattress he’d made on the floor with the couch cushions, surveying his work. My heart did a little flip-flop at the sight of him, his black jeans riding low on his waist. He had that man V thing beneath his abdominal muscles, outlining his hips.
I loved that man V thing. I’d never been with a guy who had it. It was a sign of lean muscle and working out. I couldn’t wait to touch it.
Alex looked up, and his eyes swept over me. “What are you wearing?” The words came out breathless.
“My pajamas.” I glanced at myself and ascertained that I looked normal. “Why? What’s wrong?”
He licked his lips, his eyes darkened. “Your pajamas make the bra and underwear look like a nun habit.”
I chuckled, wickedly. Good to know.
“Come on, sexy pants, help me drape this blanket over the chairs.”
Alex tore his eyes from my chest and, with several mind-clearing blinks, he reached for the blanket I held out. As my plan came together, I could see the understanding in his eyes, and his entire demeanor changed. He became looser, more relaxed, and gave me a knowing smile.
