“Q! Man, I see you’re hoggin’ all the ladies again!”
Mick smiled broadly and took just as much joy in introducing County to Quaysar Ramsey. She had never seen the woman so off-kilter. The fact that the tall, molasses-dipped twins were both gorgeous and charming to a fault held County in an even greater state of awe. Mick tried to conceal her laughter, though the knowing smile remained as she watched County interact with the magnificent twosome. When Quay took County to the bar, Mick let her giggles run free.
“Will you let me in on the secret?” Quest asked, tugging on the cuff of the black sport coat he wore with a plum shirt and matching trousers.
“Oh, it’s just a treat to see my girl so speechless,” Mick said and hugged herself. “Thank you so much for such a great night.”
Quest sent her a heart-melting wink. “There’s more to come. I promise you.”
Before Mick could find out what more there was, Quest was being summoned across the room to make a few statements about the teen runaway’s facility.
“Damn it,” he muttered before turning to Mick. “I’m sorry,” he told her, hating to leave.
Mick was already squeezing his hand. “Go take care of your business. I’ll be right here when you get back.”
Something flickered in the haunting depths of Quest’s eyes. Then, surprising Mick, he leaned down and pressed his forehead next to hers. “I like the sound of that,” he said, and then softly nudged her chin with his fist before he walked away.
Mick’s lashes fluttered while she fought the urge to drag him back to her. Down, Mick, she ordered herself. A waiter passed just then and she eagerly took a champagne glass from his tray.
Mick nursed the champagne for the better part of twelve minutes. She hardly sipped the bubbly liquid, painfully aware of the results that would follow. She saw County heading towards her and smiled as the woman joined her on the secluded sofa. Mick watched as her best friend flopped back into the cushions and begin to fan herself.
“Didn’t I tell you?” County said, a look of sheer delight illuminating her face. “Didn’t I tell you they were beautiful? Didn’t I, Mick?”
“Yes, yes, you did,” Mick confirmed, raising her champagne glass in a mock toast.
“Mmm-mmm…” County grunted, shivering a bit as she did so. “And it’s every one of ’em who’s gorgeous, and the twins… Mick, girl…”
Mick burst into laughter when County appeared unable to form more compliments.
“I can see why it’s taking you so long to get back to Chicago. I’ll bet you’ve bought a whole new wardrobe in anticipation of remaining indefinitely,” County probed, slanting Mick a sly gaze when she turned her head against the sofa cushions.
Mick shook her head and refused to admit she’d done such a thing. “I bought a few new pieces, not a whole new wardrobe,” she said, rolling the glass between her palms. “Besides, you know me well enough to know I’m not naïve enough to stay halfway across the country just because a man looks good.”
“Actually his looks are the last reason I think you’d stay,” County shared, watching her toes wiggling along the opening of her strappy black high heels. “Anyone can see that he adores you, he’s obviously very attentive. In short,” she added, sighing, “all the things you noticed about him after your first meeting, I noticed too.”
“So you don’t think I’m naïve?” Mick queried, her amber gaze filled with doubt.
“Quest seems like a really great guy, Mick. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to hear you say he’s the one.”
Mick blinked. She had no denial or snapping comeback to County’s unexpected prediction.
“Sorry to interrupt you ladies,” Quest called out to them as he returned. “Contessa, would you mind if I steal Michaela away for a little bit?”
“No problem,” County said, waving her hand as though giving her permission. She watched the couple disappear into the crowd. “Congratulations, Mick,” she whispered.
Mick smiled and inhaled the fresh sea air from the beachfront. “The kids are gonna love it out here. A chance to breathe clean air instead of smog? There’s nothing like it,” she testified.
Quest stopped walking, his hand squeezing on her upper arm. Mick became silent and looked in the direction he stared.
A volleyball net waited in the distance. It was set in the sand as though it were nothing out of the ordinary for it to be there.
“Quest,” Mick breathed, delighted by the sight. She held her sandals in one hand, the other gripping the hem of her dress as she made her way to the net.
“I’ve been thinking about having one put out here since you told me how much you enjoyed the game,” Quest said, when she stared back at him. “I figured the kids would enjoy it as much as you. But I wanted you to be the first one to use it.”
Mick was practically speechless as she trudged in the sand while moving closer to the net. “You did this because of me?” she whispered, glancing over in time to see him shrug. “Why?” she insisted on knowing.
Quest ran one hand across his soft hair. “I thought it’d make you happy,” he told her as though it were that simple and smiled while he looked down at the sand beneath his loafers. “Unless you were just teasing about being familiar with the game,” he chided, noticing how emotional she was becoming and hoping to lighten the mood.
“You just get on the other side of that net,” Mick ordered, tossing her sandals to the ground and smiling when Quest tugged his bow tie free. “My serve,” she called and grabbed the pristine white ball from the sand.
Quest held his own, but was very much in awe of Mick as he watched her play. She was clearly competitive, having no regard for her gown as she jumped and dived for the ball with fierce passion. When her final serve caught him by surprise, Mick shrieked in victory and fell to the sand.
“You were holding back on your skills, Mr. Ramsey,” she accused, bracing herself on her elbows while looking up at him from the ground.
Quest grinned. “I didn’t want you to be intimidated,” he said while dropping next to her in the sand.
“Did I look intimidated?” Mick asked, taking in huge gulps of fresh sea air as she lay on her back.
Quest’s deep-set eyes roamed her face. “Not a bit,” he said.
“Did you want me to be intimidated?” Mick asked, her voice falling an octave.
“I don’t think it’d work for both of us to be intimidated.”
Mick blinked. “I intimidate you?”
“Quite a bit.”
“How?”
Quest leaned down, supporting his upper body on one elbow. “Because I have no idea what to make of you, and that doesn’t happen to me. It’s never happened to me. Maybe that’s why I never see the same woman past three or four dates.”
Mick’s stare grew wide. “Uh-oh, I think we’ve been on more than four dates.”
Quest closed his eyes. “Yes,” he confirmed with a nod.
Mick sighed in an overly dramatic fashion. “So I guess you’re about to dump me, huh?”
“You’re still a mystery to me.”
“So you’ll dump me once the mystery’s solved?”
“I don’t see that happening,” he predicted, leaning down close to her.
Mick’s tongue touched her lips tentatively as she prepared herself. “Oh,” was the last word she spoke before he kissed her.
The moment was sweet beneath the stars and crashing ocean waves. If Quest was determined to solve his mystery of her, this would have been the perfect place to begin. But he ended the kiss, waiting for her to move her hand from the back of his neck before he sat up.
“We better get back,” he said, helping her from the ground and moving to brush the sand from her skin, hair, and clothes.
Quest held her close during the walk back. She was glad, since she was quite certain she had no strength left in her legs.
Time went by in a blur. So much that Mick didn’t even realize the days—weeks that had passed. She saw Quest every da
y, be it for lunch, dinner, or breakfast. He took her to many of the Ramsey Group sites in development and others that had been completed. There were days filled with sightseeing and everything else under the sun. Mick spoke with Driggers every day and she was both elated and mildly uneasy when he told her how much he was enjoying the fact that she’d found something else to occupy her time with besides work. Still, Michaela wished the nagging reminders of home and responsibility would leave her be. She knew if they did, she would stay in Seattle forever.
The phone rang then and Mick welcomed the interruption. Still, nothing had quite prepared her for the loud voice on the other end of the line.
“Morning, County,” she groaned, leaning back against the headboard to massage her eyes.
“Mmm-hmm, girl, what the hell is going on? Have you decided to put down roots in Washington State or what?”
“County—”
“I mean, you know I think Quest is a dream, and personally I wouldn’t blame you for staying. Just keep me posted, all right?”
“It hasn’t been that long, Count.”
“The hell you say. It’s going on four weeks. An entire month, Michaela Sellars. Is he that good in bed, love?”
Mick’s laughter came in a quick, robust burst. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Stop lyin’. Wait a minute. Are you serious?”
“Quite.”
“Well, just what is going on out there?”
“Everything’s just so unreal, County,” Mick admitted, kicking back the covers and swinging her legs from the bed. “I guess that’s why it’s taking me so long to come back. I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed myself so much.”
“Yes, Quest Ramsey seems like quite a man,” County acknowledged. “That’s why I can’t believe he hasn’t made a move.”
“Oh, he’s made several moves,” Mick corrected, reaching for the room service menu. “Just not the move,” she added.
County giggled. “And you’re still a-hoping,” she teased.
Mick rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that. I just really enjoy being with him. In spite of what you think, it is possible to look past all that gorgeousness.”
“Hmph,” County snorted, “my eyes ain’t big enough to look past all that.”
“Damn, you are so scandalous!” Mick accused, a rumble of laughter tickling her chest.
“And you’ve always known that. Now, tell me about this book,” County said, easily switching gears.
“Well, you know the book is dead,” Mick said, momentarily thrown by the question.
“Hmm…could anything make you reconsider?”
A picture of the yearbook flashed to Mick’s mind, but she quickly dismissed it. “No.”
“So you’re just gonna let the mystery of a lifetime slip through your fingers?”
“Baby, there is no mystery. The girl committed suicide.”
“And you believe that?”
Mick tossed aside the menu. “It doesn’t matter what I believe. The case is solved and closed, has been for over a decade.”
“And does this outlook have anything to do with the fact that you’re falling hard and fast for one of the sexy twins?”
“I take offense to that, Contessa.”
“Does it?”
“No, hell no!” Mick declared, leaving the bed and shoving a hand through her thick blue-black curls. “No man has or will ever determine anything that has to do with my business—my writing.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“County—”
“Look, just hurry up and get your butt back here. If only for a day or two. Your little playmates have already been sniffing around the office asking when you’ll be back. It don’t look good for me to have so many teenyboppers around,” County added with an indignant sniff.
“Damn it,” Mick whispered, both concerned and upset with herself for not keeping in touch with her girls. She’d been trying not to think of them as her trip lingered on. The girls depended on her so. They had since she peeked in on their troubled practice one day two years ago. The line consisted of fifteen freshmen and three very harried juniors. Mick offered tentative advice as any fan might. The girls were enthralled. Soon, Mick was not only offering advice, she was choreographing moves—moves that had catapulted the marching band’s dance troupe to great heights.
“Mick? Are you listening?”
Mick massaged her eyes. “I am.”
“Well?”
“Not much longer,” she said while pacing the bedroom.
“You’ve got it real bad, girl.”
Mick’s chuckle held no trace of humor. “I know,” she admitted.
“You take care of yourself and call me in a few, all right?”
“I promise,” Mick whispered and told County she loved her before the connection ended.
Less than ten seconds later, the phone rang again.
“Hello?”
“Michaela Sellars?”
“Yes?”
“This is Johnelle Black. My daughter was Sera Black. I see you recognize the name,” Johnelle noted, hearing Mick’s breathing catch on a gasp.
“Mrs. Black.” Mick spoke in a hushed, almost reverent tone. “I am so sorry. What happened to Sera was terrible.”
“Yes, it was,” Johnelle whispered, her usually strong voice wavering just a bit. “It happened very long ago and I guess I should be past it, but it still hurts. My baby was just about to begin her life, when she—”
“Committed suicide,” Mick added softly, knowing the assumption was about to be disputed.
“Homicide,” Johnelle responded decisively.
“I know this must be hard for you, Mrs. Black,” Mick went on, determined not to further agitate the distressed woman, “it’s just that the facts—”
“The facts?” Johnelle cut in, her voice holding no trace of anger or frustration. “Ms. Sellars, those facts were pieced together by certain members of the Savannah press who were influenced, or should I say bought, by the Ramseys?”
“If you’re talking to me, then you obviously know about the book. Most of the Ramseys are against having it written.”
“Of course they are, dear, and why do you think that is?”
Silence.
“This isn’t a conversation I want to have over the phone. Would you agree to meet me?” Johnelle proposed.
Mick expected herself to produce an instant refusal. Actually, I have another exquisite day planned with a fabulously fine, fabulously gentlemanly, and fabulously sexy Ramsey, she wanted to say.
“When and where?” Mick asked instead.
Quaysar twisted his mammoth-sized pearl-gray suede chair back and forth while studying his mirror image across the round glass table, where they met for their morning meeting.
“What?” Quest asked, feeling his brother’s eyes on him even as he studied the plans he held.
“So how is she?”
“Who?”
“The yummy Ms. Sellars,” Quay teased in a manner that usually roused a grin from his brother.
Quest barely smirked and the narrowing of his stare told Quay that he’d spoken out of turn.
“Sorry,” he apologized promptly when Quest slid a quick glare in his direction. “Damn, Q, you always keep me in the loop about your latest squeezes,” he complained, pressing one hand against the front of his metallic-blue crew-neck shirt while pleading his case. “Now you’re cutting me out when it’s obvious you’re growin’ more and more infatuated with the woman and not even bothering to hide it.”
Quest finished scouring the plans and stood. “Michaela’s fine. She asks about you every time I see her.”
Quay was delighted and chuckled over his brother’s stern manner as he delivered the tidbit. “So?” he prompted.
Quest was already strolling away from the table. “So what?”
“So what’s up, Q? How serious is this, man?”
“As serious as it can get,” Quest shared after a pensive stare commanded his expression fo
r several moments.
“That doesn’t sound good, man,” Quay said, leaving his chair then. “What’s going on?”
Quest reached for the light sable-brown sport coat and slipped it on over a beige shirt. “We live very different lives, Quay—in distant places. Besides, she’s a writer—an investigative journalist at that.”
“So?” Quay blurted, his pitch-black stare growing stormy at the cool shrug of Quest’s shoulders. “Hell, man, why should you care about that? You’ve got nothin’ to hide.”
“I gotta go,” Quest said after taking a moment to consider Quay’s words. A minute later, he was gone.
Mick and Johnelle Black decided to meet for brunch at a local bistro. The place was surprisingly quiet despite the time of day.
“The owner says they may have to consider closing during the morning hours since they’re more popular with the lunch and dinner crowds,” Johnelle shared as she and Mick waited for their juice orders. “They may be forced to shut down altogether since the Ramseys opened their club and serve dinner as well.”
“That’s right,” Mick acknowledged softly, recalling that Double Q was close by. She fixed Johnelle with a half smile and an unwavering gaze. “But I’m sure this isn’t what you brought me here to discuss.”
Johnelle took no offense and smiled as she shook her head no. “I didn’t. I asked you here to discuss my daughter,” she said and produced a portfolio from the red canvas tote she carried.
Mick leaned forward to take a closer look at the pictures that spilled from the bag’s zippered opening.
“She was so beautiful as a child and in high school,” Johnelle said, as she focused on the picture she held. “I can almost envision what she’d look like today,” she confided, and then shook her head as a shudder tinged her words. “Ms. Sellars, my daughter was a determined girl who knew what she wanted from this life. She was goal oriented. She received a full scholarship to Clark. Nothing to sneeze at,” Johnelle added, her dark eyes brimming with motherly pride. “Full scholarships are impressive to anyone,” she said, dropping the picture and leaning against the oak ladder-back chair. “Sera was so happy and confident. I believe she began to think she could do anything. Including going after and snagging one of the beautiful Ramseys.”
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