by Nancy Warren
“Like what?”
Claire had been so busy listening to Max that she hadn’t noticed Lynette come back onto the ice and stalk up to where Max was standing.
Max turned to the older woman, but he kept talking into the microphone so everyone could hear him. “I’ve never offered this before, but I might consider a partnership. Instead of my company taking over and buying you out, we could negotiate a partnership arrangement. Details to be worked out later.”
“It’s not just a business to us,” Lynette informed him, her voice so loud she didn’t need a mic. “It’s our home.”
“I know. And you will have your home. We’ll exclude it from the deal. Your house and your part of the waterfront are yours to keep.”
“Take the deal, Lynette!” somebody yelled.
But Lynette wasn’t finished with Max yet. She glanced back at Claire who felt as though she was frozen into the rink. She couldn’t seem to move.
“What about Claire? She needs a home, too.”
He turned to Claire with an understanding smile. Her grandmother was really putting her on the spot. “I agree. I propose to give Claire a home for life. With me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lynette demanded. “You looking at one of those live-in arrangements? I don’t approve of those. I think you should marry the girl.”
“Lynette!” Claire could feel her cheeks begin to burn. She forced her skates to move forward.
“I agree,” Max said. “I think I should marry the girl, too.”
She’d have stamped her foot if it didn’t currently have a skate on it. Instead, she handed Guillaume her stick, then she whooshed up to where Max and Lynette had formed a cozy twosome on the ice.
“I am not marrying a man because my grandmother told him he has to.”
This had to be the most embarrassing moment of her life. Her grandmother was bargaining to get her a husband in front of the entire town. She could hear snickers and whispering—she’d never live this day down as long as she lived.
Perhaps Max understood how she felt because he came forward. When he realized he was holding the mic, he handed it to Lynette.
He came closer, until they were almost touching. “I’m not asking because your grandmother wants me to. I’m asking because I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“I—” She glanced around at all the eager faces staring at them. “Oh, this is ridiculous.”
“I know. I really needed to get your attention and I wanted everyone to understand that I’m serious about this town, serious about you.”
He dug into his shorts and to her shock brought out a jewelry box. She was no expert but she was pretty sure it was from Tiffany. He flipped it open and the flash of diamond beamed out at her. It was gorgeous. Big enough to make a statement but not “I’m richer than you are” show-offy big. “Oh, Max.”
“I don’t care whether we buy Polar Air or not. I only want you. Will you marry me?”
“Oh, Max.”
“Kiss the girl, you fool!”
He chuckled softly. Reached forward and kissed her gently. She felt the passion and love as his lips brushed hers, then with a tiny murmur, she moved closer, and he pulled her to him so they were kissing and hugging and laughing.
“Yes. In order to save my business, I will marry you.”
“You won’t only be saving your business, you’ll be saving me.”
“Really?”
“I was restless and bored. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.” He reached forward and took her left hand. “Now, I do.” He took her ring finger and slipped the big, gorgeous ring onto it. “I want to spend every day with you. Lie by your side every night. Have children with you.”
“Play hockey with me?”
He laughed. “Anytime you want.”
“I love you.”
And as they kissed and hugged each other, Lynette whispered to Ted. He grinned and nodded.
The scoreboard lit up.
It was a home-team win.
* * *
THERE WERE congratulations, hugs, a few tears from Lynette and even a couple from Claire herself. In the midst of it all, she became aware that the three strangers she’d noticed earlier were surrounding Max, arm-punching and shoving and generally acting like fools. The three men, Max and two taller guys, were pretty much a trio of gorgeous. The woman was gazing at them with calm amusement but Claire could see how her eyes lit when they rested on the tallest of the three. She suspected her own eyes did the same when she looked at Max.
“Claire,” her brand-new fiancé called out, looking so happy her heart melted all over again. “Come on over and meet my best friends.”
She did. “Ladies first,” Max said. “Claire Lundstrom, this is Serena Long.”
The women shook hands, then Serena said, “You know we’re going to be spending a lot of time together in the future.” And she pulled Claire in for a hug. In a low voice, she said, “I’ve known Max for a long time and I’ve never seen him look so happy. Thank you.”
“He makes me happy, too,” she said, still amazed that the man she’d tried to despise only a few hours ago was going to be her husband.
“Serena’s going to marry Adam, here,” Max said, continuing the introductions.
The tallest of the three opened his mouth but was forestalled by Gorgeous #2 who said, “Hey, you guys should have a double wedding.”
“And the mouthy guy is Dylan.”
Dylan’s grin was the kind that could get a girl in trouble, Claire thought. And she bet he used it shamelessly. “Seriously,” Dylan said. “When Max told us that you were a hockey-playing bush pilot, I might have had some doubts about my old buddy’s taste in girls.” He looked her up and down and said, “But you are about the prettiest hockey-playing bush pilot I’ve ever seen.”
“Trust me,” Max said, putting an arm around her. “He means that as a compliment.”
She accepted Dylan’s hug. Then Adam came forward. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you. But I think Max finally got it right.”
The two couples stood close. Max reached for Claire’s hand and she realized that Adam and Serena were also holding hands.
She glanced at Dylan, hoping he didn’t feel left out, and caught him looking at the two couples. For just a second she thought she saw a wistful expression cross his face and then he suddenly stuck both fists in the air and did a kind of victory dance. “And I guess that makes me the Last Bachelor Standing!”
Max was still holding his hockey-stick-shaped controller in his free hand. “Here.” He offered it to Dylan. “Play on.”
In seconds, Dylan was huddled with Guillaume and Leo learning the finer points of Wii hockey.
Adam and Max exchanged glances. “Think he’ll ever grow up?” Adam asked.
Max replied, “All he needs is the love of the right woman. It’s amazing what love can do.” And he leaned over and kissed Claire.
As she threw her arms around him and kissed him back, she realized he was right. It was amazing what love could do.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE MIGHTY QUINNS: MALCOLM by Kate Hoffmann.
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Prologue
TENSION HUNG IN the air in the small house in Rotorua, setting everyone on edge. Ten-year-old Malcolm Quinn tried to keep his younger siblings occupied, seeing the
growing worry in his mother’s expression. But the twins, seven-year-olds Rogan and Ryan, knew something was up. Only their little sister, Dana, was unaware that all was not right.
Their father, Maxwell Quinn, had left advance base camp with his climbing party and Sherpas earlier that day, ready to conquer Everest. It was his father’s sixth summit attempt and once complete, it would give him a perfect record.
Max Quinn and his partner, Roger Innis, had been guiding Everest expeditions for almost as long as Malcolm had been alive, first working for other expedition companies, and then for the past four seasons, working for themselves. Since founding Outbound Adventure, his father had rarely been home. But when he did walk through the front door, life was suddenly much brighter for the family. For in that moment, they all knew he was safe. They couldn’t say that today.
“What time is it?” Rogan asked.
Mal looked up. His gaze met his brother’s and Mal forced a smile. “Don’t worry. They’re probably just too busy to call. Or maybe they can’t get through. Satellite telephones can be dodgy.”
“But it’s getting late,” Ryan said. “It’s nearly midnight. That means it’s ten there. He should be back at camp by now, shouldn’t he?”
“I’m sure he is. But he has a lot of responsibilities.” Mal repeated the words that his mother had said to him just ten minutes before, hoping they calmed his brother’s concern more than they had his.
Ryan rubbed his eyes. “What if something bad happened?”
“Yeah,” Rogan said. “Maybe they’re afraid to call us.”
Mal crossed the room and pulled them both to their feet. “Go to bed. I’ll wake you when the call comes. I promise.”
To his great relief, they wandered off in the direction of their bedroom. Mal waited until the door shut behind them, then turned and hurried into the kitchen. Lydie Quinn sat at the kitchen table, Dana curled up in her arms, sound asleep. His mother was humming a tune that Mal didn’t recognize, repeating the same phrase over and over again.
Mal silently walked by her and put the teakettle on to boil. When he sat down across from her, she refused to look at him, her eyes fixed on a point above his head.
“Mum?”
Her gaze didn’t falter and the tune continued.
“Mum, would you like a cup of tea?”
Mal watched as tears welled up in his mother’s eyes. He rose to comfort her and as he did, the phone rang.
“Don’t answer it,” she said.
“But, I—”
“Don’t.” She shook her head, the tears now tumbling down her cheeks. He’d never seen his mother cry before and Mal wasn’t quite sure what to do. Dana stirred in her arms and Lydie grasped her daughter to her more tightly, rocking back and forth.
Mal quietly picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Who is this?”
“Malcolm Quinn.”
“Malcolm, it’s Roger Innis. I need to speak with your mother.”
“No,” Malcolm said. “You can tell me.”
“Son, put your mother on the phone. It’s very important. This is no time for childish games.”
“She won’t speak with you,” Mal insisted. “She can’t. We know something is wrong. Just tell me and I’ll tell her.”
As he listened to his father’s partner explain the situation, Mal slowly began to realize that his life—and the lives of his mother and siblings—would never be the same.
1
IT WAS GOOD to be home.
Malcolm Quinn grabbed his duffel from the back of his battered Range Rover and hefted it over his shoulder with a groan. He’d left Greenland three days ago after leading a four-week expedition across the ice cap from east to west, following the Arctic Circle. After boarding a bush flight from Greenland to Iceland, he’d flown from Reykjavik to Copenhagen, then to Dubai, then to Sydney and finally landed in Auckland just that morning after two days in airports. The two-hour drive home to Raglan was the final leg of his trip, and now that he was home, he could finally relax.
To say he was knackered was an understatement. But it was the good kind of exhaustion that he only experienced after a successful expedition. His clients had been thrilled with the experience and were grateful he’d led them on a trip without a single serious hitch.
But it was nice to be able to walk around in a light jacket and shorts. It was early April, spring in the northern hemisphere. But in New Zealand, winter was on its way. Still, the weather felt balmy compared to the constant cold of the Arctic.
The offices for Maximum Adrenaline were located in a low-slung white clapboard building just outside the town limits. For a company that specialized in high adventure, the office was rather unremarkable, distinguished from other nearby businesses by just a small sign above the door. A porch spanned the front facade; weathered wooden furniture was scattered along the wide expanse.
As he slammed the hatch on the SUV, the front door opened and the family dog, Duffy, came bounding out, followed by Mal’s younger sister, Dana. “Hey, Duff, look at you. Hey, Dana.”
The black Lab was so excited he wasn’t sure what to do with himself, and when Mal squatted down, Duffy knocked him off his feet. He surrendered to a thorough tongue bath, laughing as the dog pinned him to the ground. When he finally was able to sit up, Duffy had stretched out across his lap, the dog’s subtle way of keeping him in one spot.
“I can’t move,” Mal said to his sister, “or I’d give you a hug.”
“Welcome home,” Dana said. “I expected you tomorrow.”
“I caught an earlier flight. Martin stayed with our gear to get it through customs. God, it’s good to be home.”
Duffy wriggled in his lap, nuzzling his wet nose under Mal’s chin. “Enough, Duff,” he said, struggling to his feet.
“He’s missed you,” Dana said.
“I’m sure he hasn’t thought of me since I left. Considering the way you baby him, you’re the only one he’d truly miss.”
“I’ve been taking him running every day. And he’s actually lost a bit of weight.”
Mal bent down and patted the dog on his flank. “Ugh, don’t talk about exercise. Right now, I need a stiff drink and a shower. And I’m not sure which I’ll have first. Then, I’m heading into town to kick back and get laid. And I’m not sure which will come first.”
It was an unwritten rule in the guiding business that you didn’t bonk the clients, no matter how attractive they might be. He had one job and one job only—to bring his clients home safely. Sex was a distraction from that responsibility, especially in extreme environments. He was also a bit superstitious. You didn’t disrespect the mountain gods.
That didn’t mean the trekkers and climbers didn’t have sex in their own tents, but Mal turned a blind eye and often made excuses when the locals were offended.
So from the time he left until the time he returned, he lived a celibate life. But when he got back to Raglan, Mal knew a handful of girls that were willing to provide a randy bloke with a night or two in bed, no strings attached. Raglan was a surf capital, a beach town with a plethora of pretty girls.
Though Mal and his brothers were considered attractive, there weren’t many women on the North Island who wanted to settle down with a guy who was gone ten months out of the year, no matter how good he was in the sack. Which was just fine by Mal. He’d never been interested in anything long-term. His life was pretty perfect the way it was. And he wasn’t prepared to alter it to make a woman happy—no matter how good she might be in bed.
Besides, he had his family’s business to keep afloat. Any time wasted on a woman was time he could put to better use building their clientele, getting publicity for Maximum Adrenaline and working out new trips to offer.
“Any important messages for me?” Mal asked his sister as he got up.
He strode toward the door, but Dana stayed glued to the spot at the base of the porch steps. Mal turned to motion to her, then saw the pained expression on her face. A sick fear clutched at his g
ut and he drew a sharp breath. Something was wrong. “What is it? Is it Ryan? Rogan?”
His younger brother was climbing Lhotse in the Himalayas with an Aussie film crew. And Ryan’s twin, Rogan, was in Alaska, doing a prep course for a Denali climb. Either trip had the potential for trouble. And then there were the other hundred or so guides that they employed on various expeditions throughout the year. “Who is it?”
“It’s Dad,” she murmured.
“Dad?” Their father had died twenty years ago this spring, somewhere near the summit of Mt. Everest. Mal had been ten, the twins seven and Dana only five.
His sister nodded, fighting back tears. “They found his body.”
Mal gasped. “When?”
“Three weeks ago. Gary Branbauer’s expedition. The snow cover has been light this year and as they were descending, they noticed a flash of color in the snow. It was him.”
“How do they know?” Mal asked.
“They took a photo and got a GPS bearing. Roger Innis confirmed it was the right location and gear. The news is out and the media has been calling. It’s been crazy.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” He and Dana had been in contact by satellite phone at least four or five times over the past three weeks. And he’d been a simple email away for the past two days.
“I decided to wait until you got home. I haven’t said anything to Ryan and Rogan either, although considering how the news is spreading, they’ll probably both hear about it before I can tell them in person.”
“Mum,” Mal said. “She knows?”
Dana nodded. “She’s a little upset over all the attention. They’ve been calling and wanting to talk to her, but so far she’s refused to comment. She’s coming to stay with me for the weekend.”
The media attention made sense. Maxwell Quinn had been one of the most renowned climbers of his generation and, in the early ’90s, only one of a handful of men who had completed the Seven Summits in less than a year. Max’s partner, Roger Innis, had used the media coverage after Max’s death to his advantage, claiming that Max had died trying to rescue a client. With all the publicity, Outbound Adventure had suddenly become a high-profile guiding company.
