A Lover's Dream

by Altonya Washington

  “Well, come on then,” Quay urged, leaning back in his chair and propping his index finger alongside his temple.

  “I think I’ll take you up on it,” Mick decided, smacking her hands to her thighs.

  “Hot damn,” Quay said and waved in their waiter’s direction. “Let’s get some drinks over here, man.”

  It was Mick’s turn to wave then. “Uh, I can’t.”

  Quaysar appeared crestfallen, but only for a second. “Well, I can,” he decided, winking when she burst into laughter.

  Mick’s high spirits continued throughout lunch. Quay definitely had a comedic gene and he loved to show it off. For a while, Mick enjoyed herself and completely forgot what had her feeling so down.

  “Yes, ma’am, there is something for you,” the concierge announced when Mick returned to the desk following her lunch with Quay.

  Her spirits lifted a notch or two only to sink again when she saw that it was a package instead of a message. Yes, she thought, Quest’s “I’ll call you” meant what it always meant whenever a man said it.

  “Stop it,” Mick ordered herself. She was determined to focus on having fun. Hell, she’d been in Seattle almost a week and she hadn’t danced once.

  Mick tapped her fingers along the side of the package and thought about her past week. In one week she’d become so attached to Quest Ramsey. It wasn’t normal—especially not for her. She was too smart, too on top of her game, she noted, and smoothed one hand across her fitted red flared pants. I’ll be damned if I let myself fall hard and fast for a man. Any man.

  Quest kept his back turned, deciding to maintain his position while the conversation took place outside his assistant’s door. The men chatting away were discussing his brother’s latest conquest, whom they’d seen him with during lunch earlier that day.

  “She’s a sight to behold,” one man noted.

  “Chocolate and curvy,” another added.

  “Can Quaysar Ramsey pick ’em or can he pick ’em?” still another man added his opinion.

  Quest didn’t care too much for the comments, which grew more graphic as the discussion continued. He decided not to join them, which was just as well since the conversation ended shortly. Quest finished the note he was leaving with the documents. He was walking out of the office when Quay stepped past the glass doors.

  “What’s up, Q?”

  “’Sup?” Quest returned. “Have a good lunch?” he asked, meeting Quay in the middle of the corridor.

  “Did I?” Quay continued with a sly grin. “I closed the Nichols deal and I had lunch with Mick.”

  Quest’s expression tightened, the muscle in his jaw performing its most wicked dance. “I thought I told you to stay away from her.”

  Teasing remarks formed and died on Quay’s tongue. He could see that his twin was in no mood to be further agitated. “Calm down, Q,” he urged softly.

  “I told you to stay away from her, Quay,” Quest said simply, his gray stare already an unsettling onyx.

  Quay felt his own temper beginning to simmer. “Stay away from her? I guess that goes for you as well?”

  Quest blinked. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

  “Promising to call and not doing it. What’s up? She’s obviously interested and—”

  “Don’t do that.”

  Quay shrugged. “What?”

  “Don’t make her out to be someone who just wants to sleep with me.”

  Quay closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean it that way,” he swore, pressing one hand across his stylish cobalt and silver tie. “I’d never talk about Mick that way. It’s obvious she’s got strong emotions where you’re concerned. I could see it on her face when I mentioned your name. And before you ask me, I was only talking about you when I mentioned you being part owner in the club.”

  Quest put a bit of space between himself and his twin.

  “I invited her to the club tonight.”

  Quest’s anger resurfaced. “What?” he whispered.

  “And since you’re not tossing your hat in the ring, there should be no complaints over the invite, right? Good,” he said, when his brother just glared. “See ya,” he called and strolled toward the elevator.

  Quest waited for the doors to close behind Quay before he moved. Grimacing, he took a seat on the edge of Jasmine’s desk and massaged his jaw. Silently, he criticized himself for not calling for the past two days. She didn’t deserve that. Especially not when she’d been so honest in telling him about his uncle’s meeting—something she wasn’t obligated to do.

  But when you asked if she would write the book, she couldn’t tell you she wouldn’t. He realized that no matter how infatuated he was by her, he had to protect his family. Protect Quay. He believed Michaela Sellars had everything he’d been praying he’d find in all the women who had filtered in and out of his life and his bed. Lovely and sweet, she had all the assets a man craved to maintain physical satisfaction, indefinitely. More than that, he was in awe of the way her mind worked. She was inquisitive, slow to judge, slow to believe, and firm in her arguments. In the short time he had known her, he’d discovered that she was more than outward lusciousness. Michaela was inner strength and he wasn’t ready to let her go.

  Still, there was his family—a family with too many secrets—and, as Houston Ramsey loved to say, theirs was a family with too many stains to cover. Michaela Sellars was a writer—a writer body and soul. She put everything into her stories and she dug until everything was uncovered. There was no way she couldn’t be intrigued by a family like the Ramseys. He could understand that. What set him on edge was that she would become just as intrigued by their secrets.

  Double Q was all that Quaysar touted and more, Michaela thought after giving her name to the dapper gentleman at the club’s entrance. Clearly, he was the person who decided the fate of scores of club hoppers who were eager to enter the establishment’s hallowed sanctum.

  Mick was escorted inside by a tall, beautiful Asian man who took her to a secluded table that offered a perfect view of every spot on the club’s lower and middle level. She was tapping her sandal-shod foot to a seductive classic when Quay found her.

  “What do you think?” he asked, while pressing a kiss to her cheek when he bent low to whisper against her ear.

  “This place is incredible!” Mick raved, smoothing her hands across the strapless peach paisley dress she wore with the provocative sandals. The four-inch heels with macramé ankle ties accentuated her shapely legs and were perfect dancing shoes.

  “Javi, a Courvoisier for me and, Mick?” Quay probed, waiting for her drink request.

  “A piña colada, virgin,” she replied coolly, shrugging when Quay shook his head. “Quay, this place,” she continued to marvel once the waiter was off to fill their orders, “sort of a cruel joke to have the place encased in glass to torture those who can’t make it past your judges out front.”

  Quay laughed. “Yeah, Vic and the boys are pretty selective, but it’s because of them that Double Q is on that prized list of black clubs that have a zero percentage for violence.”

  “Impressive,” Mick said, beginning to move in her seat when the band broke into a vintage Luther Vandross tune. “I especially like all the gorgeous escorts,” she teased.

  Quay responded with a devilish wink. “I take credit for all this greatness. You know, most of my staff think you’re my latest conquest,” he said as though it were nothing surprising.

  Mick was more than surprised. She was downright stunned, and it showed.

  “Well, damn,” Quay snapped, pretending to take offense, “I mean, I know I’m not Denzel, but jeez,” he muttered, tugging on the cuffs of the cream silk shirt that enhanced his flawless molasses skin.

  Laughing then, Mick couldn’t even respond to the absurd statement. Quay continued to talk until someone tapped his shoulder and he excused himself to go check on some things before the floors were changed for dancing. Mick waved him off and enjoyed the club a bit mo
re. Small round tables skirted the floor/stage where the band performed. Luxurious booths fringed the outer walls of the club. The upper level had its own private dance floor and was lined with more booths, each lit by soft electric candles. Once her creamy piña colada had arrived, Mick was in a state of sheer bliss.

  “You lovely people will now be entertained by DJ Maurice G while we take our break. Enjoy.”

  The announcement by the group’s lead vocalist was followed by a round of applause. Within five minutes, the club had changed scenes from a dim, elegant jazz haven to an up-tempo dance hall. The fourth or fifth song, a vintage Barry White piece, had Mick out of her seat instantly. Of course, there were several men on hand to apply for the chance to be her dance partner. Their hopes were dashed, unfortunately, when Quay returned and announced that the first dance was his.

  On the floor, Michaela and Quaysar bumped and grinded with the best of them. Mick was in her element and savored the fact that her partner was no slouch on the dance floor. In fact, Quay matched her move for move; they had the best time, and it showed. Mick’s laughter filled the air several times. Other couples even left the floor to make room for the energetic couple. A round of applause filled the club as Barry White’s “My Everything” faded into another classic groove and the couple left the floor.

  “Now your staff will definitely think we’re sleeping together!” Mick teased boisterously, her laughter catching on a cry of surprise when she found Quest at the table.

  “Michaela.” He stood and greeted her in his usually intense, softly seductive manner. Of course, he fixed his brother with a quick harsh glare.

  “Q, this is a surprise, man!” Quay said, pretending not to notice his brother’s agitation. “This is great, you can keep Mick company while she takes a breather and I go check on the band. Five minutes, girl. Then it’s back out on the floor,” he said, squeezing her elbow before he sprinted off.

  Mick sent Quest a quick look and waited for him to hold her chair. He didn’t get that opportunity.

  “Allow me,” a voice called close to her ear and made Mick glance back.

  “Taurus Ramsey,” the man introduced himself.

  Mick finally found her voice and just managed to speak her name.

  Taurus responded with a slow double-dimpled smile. “I know,” he said, undoing the buttons on his mocha suit coat as he sat next to her.

  Mick couldn’t deny how taken she was by the smooth Casanova-like god. He was the first male of the Ramsey family who was anything but molasses dark and intense. He was definitely handsome, though. His features were very fair, from the amber stare to the crop of wavy, close-cut hair and its unexpected shade of light brown.

  Quest felt his jaw muscle working feverishly as he watched his cousin mesmerize Mick with his very soft voice. That voice was known for holding most women in a captivated state. More than once, it’d been said that Taurus Ramsey could talk a woman into or out of anything—especially her clothes.

  Quest cleared his throat to muffle the grunt of disapproval erupting from his throat. He certainly didn’t care for the set look on Mick’s face as she took in Taurus’s comments about her previous books.

  “The Shelanons enjoyed quite a windfall when Grace Shelanon stumbled upon that mine shaft under her greenhouse,” Quest said, half smiling when Taurus slanted a gaze in his direction.

  “You may want to check your facts, Q. Grace Shelanon made that discovery in her garden, not her greenhouse. And I believe what she found were gems. The shaft was discovered a little ways off.”

  Quest knew that, but decided to test his cousin’s knowledge of Michaela’s work. He should have known the man would be prepared with a quick and accurate response.

  “Now, Mick,” Taurus said then, returning his attention to the lady at his side. “I’ve been talking your head off for the past ten minutes.”

  “Amen,” Quest muttered, folding his arms over the light sable shirt he wore.

  “And I’d really prefer knowing about you,” Taurus continued, smoothly ignoring his cousin. “Why don’t we dance a little and continue our conversation?”

  Mick’s lashes fluttered and she fixed Taurus with an apologetic smile. “That sounds fantastic, but your cousin Quay wore me out a little while ago. I think I’d better be thinking about getting back to my hotel,” she decided.

  Taurus was already standing to assist her.

  “Mick, you ready for another twirl?” Quay was saying as he returned to the table.

  “No and I was just telling Taurus I really should get going,” she said, clasping her hands together when Quaysar looked so disappointed. “I had the best time though,” she said, hoping to soothe his feelings.

  “No problem,” Quay said, already wedging himself between Mick and Taurus. “I’ll just go grab my wallet and keys from behind the bar and—”

  “Forget it, Quay, I’ll take her.”

  Mick, Taurus, and Quaysar all turned to look at Quest, who had spoken.

  “Sounds good, man,” Quay replied, quite pleased that his brother was finally stepping up to stake his claim.

  Mick was more curious about Quest’s actions. Days had passed without him calling and now he was going to take her home in his car where they would be alone. Easy, Mick.

  “Well, I guess that’s it.” Quay turned to take Mick in his arms. “You’re the best dance partner I’ve ever had,” he complimented, and then topped it off with a lingering kiss on her cheek. He smiled at her surprised gasp, but backed away when he felt the fine hair bristling along the nape of his neck. The signal was a warning that his twin was staring his way and that he was not pleased. “Good night,” he told her. “Q,” he called, and tugged his cousin away from the table.

  “Nice meeting you, Mick!” Taurus called.

  “Nice meeting you!” Mick replied, standing on her toes to wave as he and Quay disappeared into the heavy crowd. Alone with Quest, she smoothed her hands over the curve-hugging frock and tried to ignore the chill that kissed her bare arms.

  Quest said nothing and only waved his hand in a gesture that she precede him toward the nearest exit. They were silent. The club doors closed behind them and soon they were strolling in the parking lot. Quest studied Mick as she studied the exquisite Seattle skyline in the distance.

  When they reached his foreboding navy blue Navigator parked in the distance, Quest trailed a lone finger across her elbow.

  Mick blinked and decided to ignore the caress. Impossible, once Quest’s hand curved about her arm.

  “I’m sorry I lied to you,” he said, once they’d stopped near the passenger side of his truck.

  Mick chewed her bottom lip, then turned to face him.

  “I told you I’d call. I didn’t,” he continued.

  Shrugging, Mick tried to brush off the statement. “If there’s one thing every woman knows about a man it’s that if he says he’ll call once something even remotely dramatic occurs, she can be sure that he won’t.”

  Quest felt himself wince at her words and bowed his head lest she see his eyes turn a darker shade of gray. Never did he think he’d meet a woman more cynical or sarcastic than she. Deciding to brush that from his mind, Quest moved past her to open the passenger door of the SUV. He ushered her inside, then checked the seat belt to make sure the fastening was secure. He was about to close the door, when he hesitated. “I pride myself on not saying things I don’t mean. I am sorry,” he told her.

  Mick shook her head, sending a riot of dark curls swinging. “It’s forgotten,” she whispered, looking down at her hands clasped in her lap.

  The trip back to the Sorenson was silent yet tension-filled. Thankfully, the suave croonings of Joe in the background made the trip bearable. Mick gave an inward cry of joy when they turned into the hotel’s parking deck. She had hoped Quest would drop her off at the front. But, of course, that wasn’t his style. He’d see her to her room, check the place thoroughly, and then he would leave.

  And he did just that, Michaela speculate
d as she listened to him opening and closing doors at the back of her suite. She turned toward the message desk when she heard him nearing the front again.

  Just go and don’t say anything, she pleaded silently while fiddling with the edge of the stationary pad that rested squarely on the center of the desk.

  Quest granted part of her request. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t just go.

  One index finger trailing downward between her shoulder blades was Mick’s undoing. Her head sloped forward, her eyes closed, and her lips parted in response. When she turned, she was in his arms. Quest held her in an unbreakable grasp, bonding her to his massive form. Mick knew her ribs were bruising, but they were no more bruised than her lips, which he suckled and kissed in an onslaught of desire that had been restrained for too long. Mick met his fire with one of her own, moaning while his tongue thrust deeper into the sweet darkness of her mouth.

  Her helpless sounds of delight further stimulated Quest’s driving need. He held her pinned between his chest and the message desk for more than a few minutes. His free hand roamed the line from her upper thigh to her hip before curving over the generous swell of her bottom. He tugged her even higher against his chest then and grunted satisfactorily when her shapely legs locked around his waist.

  The maddening kiss continued as he carried her to the sofa. The dress she wore teased him wickedly and had him conjuring all sorts of shamefully erotic things he wanted to do to her. Now his perfect teeth tugged at the paisley-print fabric until the rise of her breasts was only partially revealed. Quest took his time lavishing the delicious chocolate swells with wet openmouthed kisses.

  Hearing Mick gasping his name, he knew he had to see her. Really see her. Powerful fingers curved into the straight bodice and tugged until she was bared to his smoky gray stare. Mick had the strength to do very little and her hands rested weakly against his broad shoulders. Her plump, glorious breasts beckoned to his mouth and he delighted in the satiny darkness igniting his desire to a heated pitch. His lips, teeth, and tongue manipulated the firm nipples in a relentless fashion. His fingers offered stimulating consolation when he left one to favor the other. Michaela arched her back sharply, wanting him to bestow attention to every inch of her skin. Quest growled deep in his throat as his tongue swirled around one nipple. He was so in tune to her reaction he could feel it stiffen more in response to his actions.