An Unlikely Setup

by Margaret Watson

  “I wish I could take back what I said. All I can do is apologize.”

  “Okay. Thank you.” She reached for the doorknob. “Good night, Quinn.”

  “That’s all you’re going to say? Okay?”

  She turned around. “You want the expanded version? Fine. It was a rough night, with Andre quitting and me being new and you thinking I was trying to tell you how to run the Harp. I get that. But I’m pissed off, and I’m too tired to keep up with you. Too tired to think straight.”

  She was still the woman who had taken his pub away from him. The woman who wouldn’t sell it to him for a reasonable price. But she looked vulnerable in her ratty shirt and droopy shorts, and he didn’t want to leave her alone. He’d bet money she wouldn’t sleep again tonight.

  He knew he wouldn’t. “Let’s go inside. I’ll tuck you in.”

  She sniffed. “Like that’s going to happen.” But beneath her scowl, he saw loneliness.

  “I’m sorry, Maddie. You should have told me who you were. David talked about you all the time.”

  She blinked a couple of times, as if she had something in her eye. “The subject never came up.” She turned the doorknob. Jiggled it. “Damn it.”

  He followed her onto the porch. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She gave the door a tiny kick.

  “Are you locked out?”

  “Maybe I left the back door open.”

  “Let’s take a look.”

  But the back door was locked, too. “David never locked his doors,” he said.

  “I’m not David.”

  That was for damn sure. He gazed at her long, bare legs again. “I have a spare key at home. Climb into my truck, and we’ll get it.”

  “I’ll wait here.”

  He nodded at her legs. “You’ll be cold.”

  She curled her toes under. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m not leaving you sitting on the porch wearing next to nothing.” He sat next to her.

  “Go away, Quinn,” she said, tugging his sweater down over her knees.

  “Come on.” He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “I’ll make you a cup of coffee.”

  “Coffee?” She hesitated, then shrugged. “I’m easily bribed. I’d do just about anything for a fix right now.”

  “Is that so?” He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb as his stomach tightened. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  She jerked away. “Back off, Quinn.”

  She got into his truck, buckled her seat belt, then leaned her head back. She didn’t open her eyes until he pulled into the driveway next to his cabin and stopped.

  He’d rushed out that afternoon before going to the Harp. Had he left a mess? He couldn’t remember.

  What did he care? This wasn’t a date. He wasn’t trying to impress her.

  “Wake up, Maddie. We’re here.”

  Her eyes fluttered open. “We’re home?”

  Home? No. It was more than that. It was his refuge. His sanctuary. The only place he could truly relax. “My home, Maddie. Not yours.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “HAVE A SEAT. I’ll get the key and start some coffee,” Quinn said as he opened the door. Thank goodness. It wasn’t as bad as he’d feared.

  Maddie didn’t seem to notice anything, anyway. She stumbled to the couch.

  As he poured water into the machine, she leaned back against the old beat-up leather and closed her eyes. By the time he’d measured coffee into the basket and flicked the switch, she was sound asleep.

  He stifled the urge to wake her up. He didn’t want Maddie sleeping on his couch. It was too intimate. He didn’t bring women here. If he stayed with a woman, it was at her place. So he could leave.

  Sighing, he swung Maddie’s legs up on the couch and eased a pillow under her head, trying to ignore the firm muscles in her calves and the sweep of her dark red hair over his arm. She turned onto her side and snuggled into the pillow with a murmur. Quinn walked to his room and took his time pulling the quilt from his bed. When he returned to the living room, he laid it over her, tucking it in with hands that weren’t quite steady. With a tiny sigh, she curled her fingers into his quilt and clutched it to her chest. Her mouth was slightly open, and a strand of her hair trailed over the quilt, a slash of fire on dark green.

  He’d make her an extra key to hide outside, he decided as he headed back to his bed to sleep. It was too dangerous to have her in his house. It made him think about things better left unexplored.

  HE’D BEEN UP FOR AN HOUR and had finished a pot of coffee by the time she stirred. She rolled onto her back and stretched, and Quinn watched the quilt slide off. His sweater tightened across her chest.

  His sweater had never looked so good.

  He jerked his gaze from the soft curves beneath the dark blue wool, to her face. Her eyes opened and she looked around, bewildered.

  “Hey, sleepyhead.”

  She shot up, staring at him from across the room. “Quinn? What are you doing here?”

  His eyes strayed to the sweater again. “Having coffee and catching up on my reading,” he said deliberately. He was pretty sure she didn’t want to hear that he was fantasizing about her breasts.

  Her forehead furrowed. “Why are you in my—” She stopped, and he watched memory return to her. “I’m at your house.”

  “Bingo.”

  “I must have fallen asleep as soon as we got here. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’ve kept you from sleeping, haven’t I?” She threw the quilt off and stood.

  “I slept just fine,” he lied. He’d tossed and turned until he’d given up trying.

  Pathetic to be turned on by a pair of faded gym shorts and his own baggy sweater. Clearly, he needed to get out more. He curled his hands around the coffee mug.

  “You should have left me at David’s and brought the key.” She glanced out his window, where dawn was a faint glow on the horizon. “It’s almost morning.”

  He nodded at the coffeepot. “Want some coffee?”

  “No, thanks. You’ve wasted enough time with me. I’ll make some when I get home.”

  “We’ll stop by the Cherry Tree and get a cup. There’s a lot to be said for instant gratification.”

  That stirred visions he had no business thinking about—her mouth fused to his, her body beneath him.

  Their gazes locked, and suddenly the room was too hot. Too small. Her pupils dilated. Color rose in her cheeks. Apparently, she liked instant gratification, too.

  She tried to step away from him, but bumped into a chair. She reached out to steady it at the same time he did. Their hands brushed, and neither of them pulled away.

  When he touched one finger to the inside of her wrist, she trembled. He stilled, then said, “I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

  “Me, neither,” she managed to say.

  “I don’t sleep with the boss.”

  “I don’t sleep with employees.”

  “Good policies.” He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her palm, inhaling her citrusy scent. Oranges blended with the wool of his sweater. If he didn’t touch her, he’d go crazy. “I stay out of the Otter Tail dating pool, too.”

  “Makes things less complicated,” she gasped.

  He brushed the tips of her fingers against his lips. One taste. That’s all he’d take. “I’d make an exception for you.”

  “Lucky me.” She tried to slip her hand out of his, but he tightened his hold and tugged her closer.

  Maddie’s heart was pounding so hard she could barely breathe. This was Quinn Murphy. The guy who’d laughed at her when she’d asked him to kiss her years ago. The guy who’d humiliated her in front of the coolest kids in town.

  “How about it, Maddie?” He pressed his mouth to the pulse in her wrist, and she shivered. “You interested in a swim?” His voice washed over her, a dark, rich temptation to sin.

  “Sorry,” she said, her body softening. “I
didn’t bring my swimsuit.”

  “No problem.” He trailed a finger down her neck and her heart thundered in her chest. “I love skinny-dipping.”

  “You should come with a warning label,” she muttered, but she didn’t move away. Her body was begging her to move closer, to accept what he was offering, and she didn’t have the willpower to resist. She scrambled to recall the memories of that horrible party, but her mind was full of the way Quinn felt right now, and wouldn’t cooperate.

  “I’ve been thinking about you since you walked into the Harp,” he whispered. He slipped one hand into her hair, caressing her scalp, and heat washed over her. “Wanting to kiss you. Even after I found out you owned the place.”

  He bent his head and skimmed his mouth over hers, edging her a little closer. His chest brushed her nipples, which were hard and exquisitely sensitive against the thin T-shirt. She almost whimpered. His legs shifted, and he drew her into the vee of his thighs.

  No one had ever called her a small woman, but his height and broad chest made her feel tiny. When he wrapped his arm around her and drew her against him, it felt as if his body fit hers perfectly.

  Like he’d been made for her.

  Before she could pull away, he deepened the kiss, and she lost her train of thought as his mouth played with hers.

  His tongue slid over hers. His hips pushed against hers, matching the thrusts of his tongue in her mouth. Her hands moved restlessly over his back. He smiled against her mouth. “I want to touch you, too,” he whispered.

  He burrowed beneath the sweater, beneath the T-shirt, until he touched her back. She imagined she felt the individual ridges of his fingerprints.

  He smoothed his other hand over the front of the sweater, tracing the pattern of cables in the wool. While her body was trembling, aching for him, preparing for him, he kept kissing her, kept teasing her with his tongue, until she had to hold tightly to him or fall down.

  When he eased away, she turned her head to find his mouth again. “My God, Maddie,” he muttered as he nibbled his way down her neck. “I’ve barely kissed you and I’m ready to explode.” He nudged his hips against hers, and the hard, hot length of his erection burned into her.

  He cupped her breast in one hand and she pressed into his palm, desperate for his touch. He nipped the tendon in her neck as his fingers caressed her, tracing smaller and smaller circles until she thought she would scream. When he finally brushed his thumb over her nipple, she couldn’t hold back the tiny cry that erupted from her throat.

  He groaned and shoved up the sweater, bent his head and took her into his mouth through the thin cotton of her T-shirt. As his teeth grazed over her, she cried out again. “Quinn,” she panted. “Please.”

  “Please what?” He blew gently on the dampened T-shirt. “More? Stop?”

  She shuddered as he suckled her through the shirt. “More,” she choked out. “Stop.”

  He froze, his breath hot through the shirt. “Which is it, Maddie?”

  Somehow, she stepped away from him, letting his sweater slide down again. She bit her lip when the wool pressed against her aching nipples.

  “Stop,” she repeated. Even to herself, she didn’t sound very convincing. She cleared her throat. “This isn’t smart.”

  “You’re right.” He lifted a strand of her hair and combed his fingers through it. “Terrible plan.”

  He smiled, triggering memories of that long-ago party and the way he’d laughed at her. Remembered humiliation made her cheeks hot, and she pushed his hand away. “I’m not sixteen anymore, Quinn. I know better now.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Damn it! She drew in a sharp breath. “It means I’m not a kid with poor impulse control. It means I’ve learned that just because something feels good doesn’t mean it’s smart.”

  “Smart?” The sheen of desire in his eyes faded. “You’re right. This was damn stupid.”

  She hadn’t been thinking. She’d jumped in, impulsive and reckless. Hadn’t she learned what happened when she let her impulsive side take over?

  He grabbed his keys off the counter, and her irritation spiked. “You’re not angry, are you? You started this,” Maddie said. “Not me.”

  “I’m not angry. I’m annoyed at myself for losing focus. For forgetting what’s important.” He dumped the dregs of coffee in the sink and set his mug on the counter a little too hard. “I forgot my own rules.”

  She tugged on the hem of her shorts, trying to cover more of her legs. Suddenly, she felt bare. Exposed. And she didn’t like the feeling. “I wasn’t holding a gun to your head, pal.”

  “I wasn’t holding one to yours. And you weren’t stepping away.”

  “Yeah, because I was too bored to move.”

  He looked as if he was struggling not to laugh. “You always make those noises in the back of your throat when you’re bored?”

  “You bet. I drive people crazy at bad movies. You don’t intimidate me, Murphy.”

  “Is that right?” He was smiling as he pushed away from the door. “I don’t intimidate you and you didn’t like kissing me.”

  “I didn’t say that. It was pleasant enough.”

  “Pleasant enough?” He laughed and pulled her against him. His mouth moved over hers, and she couldn’t help responding.

  This was Quinn. The guy she had to negotiate with. The one part of her brain still functioning told her to stop. To push him away. But she closed her eyes. Desire returned in a rush.

  He let her go and she stumbled backward. He was panting, and her own breath was loud in her ears.

  Every inch of her yearned to feel his body pressed to hers. “I think you should take me back to my house,” she managed to say. Before she did something even more stupid.

  “God, yes.” But he stood in front of her, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

  She reached for the door. “You coming?”

  He opened his eyes, and her skin burned from the heat of their intensity. “I’ll get my jacket.”

  She held his gaze, not allowing her own eyes to drift lower. “I’ll wait in the truck.”

  “Good.”

  Maddie stepped outside into the sunrise. Pink and gold light shimmered over the horizon, streaking the sky with color. It felt as if it pulsed in time with her body.

  She slid into the truck, then drew her feet onto the seat, pulling his sweater down to cover her legs. It was chilly in the morning this far north, even in August.

  Quinn emerged from the house and joined her. He backed down the driveway a little too fast, then threw the truck into gear and headed toward town.

  Stands of white cedar and birch trees flashed past the window, followed by an orchard with small red apples hanging from the branches. He didn’t slow down until they reached the first houses. The truck finally rolled to a stop in front of the Cherry Tree.

  “Two creams, right?”

  Pleasure blindsided her. He’d remembered how she took her coffee. “I can make coffee at home.”

  “Two creams?”

  “Yes.” She sighed.

  She watched him walk into the diner, watched Martha Pleance, the owner, glance out at the truck. The woman’s eyes narrowed as she saw Maddie. Then she turned and called to someone.

  A few moments later, Jen Summers appeared and handed Quinn a white foam cup. Her gaze drifted over to Quinn’s truck, too.

  Jen grinned and said something to him. Scowling, he shoved his way out the door and got into the truck, handing her the cup of coffee.

  “What did Jen say?” Maddie asked cautiously.

  “She said she was glad to know you don’t hold a grudge. When I told her it wasn’t like that, she just laughed. She asked why you looked so tired.” He turned the key with a hard twist. “Damn it.”

  “I’ll talk to Jen.”

  “What are you going to tell her? That you like to drive around town at dawn in your pajamas?”

  “I’m in shorts. Bes
ides, she couldn’t see those, anyway.”

  “Focus, Maddie.” He pulled away from the curb, going too fast. “You’re in my truck, wearing one of my sweaters, at six-thirty in the morning. What is she supposed to think?”

  “What difference does it make? She’s probably only slept for three hours since closing at the pub. She’ll be in a fog.” Exhaustion washed over Maddie, and she laid her head against the seat. How had Jen looked so wide-awake? “Unless you’re afraid your reputation for not getting involved is going to be ruined?”

  “I don’t want to explain to every damn person that we’re not…dating, okay?”

  She was catapulted back to that party when she was a teen. She tried to sip her coffee to hide her reaction, but it scalded her tongue. “Don’t worry, Quinn. If anyone asks me, I’ll save you. I’ll tell them the truth.”

  “Which is…?”

  “That nothing happened.” She stared at the houses flashing past the car window. “That I wouldn’t have you if you were the last man on earth.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  QUINN WAS CHECKING his stock at the Harp, writing everything down. Busywork. Anything to keep from thinking about the way Maddie had tasted that morning. About the way he’d lost control.

  It couldn’t happen again. He’d felt raw and exposed, and that wasn’t an option. Ever.

  When the door of the Harp opened, he welcomed the distraction. “We’re closed,” he called, glancing over his shoulder. “We open at noon.” Probably a tourist who didn’t know his hours, but he wanted him to come back. So he smiled at the man standing in the door.

  “Quinn Murphy?”

  Quinn turned to get a better look at the guy. Tourists didn’t usually carry briefcases. His face was tanned and his carefully groomed brown hair was graying at the temples. He wore a dark blue suit and a lighter blue tie that, together, were probably worth more than Quinn took home in a couple of weeks. Drying his hands, he said, “Who wants to know?”

  The man walked toward him, holding out his hand. “Frank Gervano. Nice to meet you, Mr. Murphy.”