A Convenient Proposal

by Helen Brooks

  'I'm not visiting anyone,' Quinn said briskly, 'apart from the odd emergency patient, that is. They always crop up, Christmas or no Christmas, but Bob and Jamie are on the rota too, so it shouldn't be too disruptive. You can bring Tabitha and the kittens if you like. The dogs are perfectly accustomed to everything that crawls, walks, flutters or flies; they won't hurt them.'

  'Thank you, but I don't think—'

  'I would like you to come, Candy,' Quinn said very quietly.

  Their eyes met for the briefest of moments as he turned his head to look at her, but it was enough to silence her protest and send hot colour surging into her cheeks.

  He heard her draw a quick breath, and then her voice came as quietly as his when she said, 'All right, if you're sure.'

  Sure? He was beginning to think he wasn't sure about anything, and he didn't like that He didn't like it at all.

  Candy had left a light on in the cottage, and the little glow from behind the curtains was welcoming as Quinn drew into the space beside the Fiesta.

  'Would you like a coffee?' She had pondered all the way home on whether to ask.

  'Some other time,' Quinn said evenly, 'but I'll just make 'ire everything's okay before I go.'

  'Okay?' She had felt the refusal of coffee was a rebuff in some way—she couldn't quite pin it down but there'd been something in his manner she hadn't liked—and now her voice was curt when she said, 'Why wouldn't it be okay? We've only been gone a few hours.'

  'I don't know.' Quinn shrugged easily. 'Alfie wrecking the joint, something like that?'

  'I don't need nursemaiding, Quinn.'

  'I shall still see you to the door.' There was a touch of brusqueness in his voice and it startled her. 'I would do the same for any woman I was with so cut the touchiness.'

  'Touchy? I'm not touchy,' Candy protested vehemently as Quinn opened his door.

  He ignored her, walking round to the passenger side and opening her door without speaking, his face distant and cold.

  'I am not touchy,' she repeated firmly when she was standing beside the car. 'It's just that I used to be on my own for huge amounts of time when I lived with Xavier and he was away on business. It doesn't worry me coming home to an empty house.'

  'Good.' His voice was without expression and his face gave nothing away, and she stared at him for a moment, irritation vying with resentment. Why she let him get under her skin like this she didn't know, Candy thought crossly, her soft mouth tightening. And why she had promised to accompany him even one more time—let alone spend Christmas Day with him—she knew even less!

  He took her arm as they walked towards the front door and she had to force herself not to jerk away, but his jibe had bitten deep and she was blowed if she was going to give him an excuse to repeat it.

  Once she had opened the front door Quinn made a quick reconnoitre of the cottage and then returned to the threshold, where Candy was still standing, her hand on her hip and her face expressing resigned patience. 'Any mad men hiding under the bed or crazed psychopaths in the bathroom?' she asked sweetly.

  He stared at her for one long moment and then he leant back against the open door, folding his arms across his chest and surveying her from under dark brows. 'You don't trust someone looking out for you, do you?' he stated softly. 'Why not?'

  'What?' Her calm aplomb vanished in an instant.

  'Or is it just me you don't trust?'

  Tabitha, traitor that she was, was busily winding herself round Quinn's legs in an ecstasy of purring pleasure, and Candy bent quickly, lifting the sleek little cat into her arms to give herself time to think. But her thought process had frozen.

  'I haven't the faintest idea what you are talking about,' she managed, after a moment of screaming silence.

  'No?'

  'No!'

  'You are defensive and wary under that outward façade of woman of the world,' Quinn said with devastating directness. 'And I know you've been to hell and back with the accident and your fiancé dying, but it's more than that, isn't it?'

  'Perhaps.' She stared into his eyes proudly as she found her tongue. 'But that's my business, Quinn, the same as the reason for your marriage breakdown is yours.'

  Quinn shifted position slightly, his dark face showing no emotion whatsoever. 'Touché,' he said softly. 'Although I never said my marriage broke down, as I remember.'

  'You said you had been married, and you don't have a wife with you now so what other assumption is there?' Candy asked coolly.

  'My wife died, Candy, along with our baby son.'

  'Oh, Quinn.' If the ground had opened and swallowed her it would have been a relief. She stared at him, her throat working and her mind searching for something, anything to say that would make amends. 'Quinn, I'm so sorry.'

  He shrugged indifferently but the action didn't hide the pain stamped on his face. 'It wasn't a marriage made in heaven, as it happens,' he said with a tightness that was indicative of the emotion he was keeping under wraps. 'But that's another story.'

  'Quinn, I shouldn't have said anything. I'm so sorry, I really am,' she stammered frantically, the colour that had flooded into her face leaving it just as quickly and showing her skin to be white with shock.

  It's all right.' And then, as she continued to stare at him with appalled eyes, Quinn reached out and took Tabitha from her, setting the cat on the floor before straightening and taking her arms in his hands as he faced her. It was three years ago,' he said quietly, 'and I'll tell you the story some time, but not now, not tonight. Okay?'

  She nodded slowly, fighting back the tears. His son. His baby son. How did someone get over such a tragedy?

  'And it was me that started the ball rolling so don't go putting on sackcloth and ashes,' he added huskily.

  'Oh, Quinn.' She couldn't have described the tumult of emotion surging through every nerve and sinew but she had never felt so mixed up in all her life.

  Quinn expelled a quiet breath, cupping her jaw gently with one hand. He had meant the kiss to be a brief farewell, a mere brushing of her lips before he left, but the second his mouth touched hers it changed to something different Something warm and sensuous, heated, his fingers moving to tangle in her hair as he moved her close into his hard frame.

  It took them both by surprise, the fire that shot between them, but it triggered sensations that fuelled more sensations, his tongue searching and exploring as her lips opened fully beneath his and her hands moved up round his neck.

  Candy couldn't believe what she was experiencing as his hard body, the smell and feel of him, seemed to set her ablaze, and Quinn was holding her even tighter as his lips plundered hers. She was aware she was kissing him back with a kind of abandoned eagerness she wouldn't have thought possible, and his thighs were hard against hers, his hands stroking her back and causing soft little moans to rise and quiver in her throat as desire flooded through her blood like hot mulled wine.

  As his tongue probed the secret places of her mouth she felt an electric current charge through her body, something alien and exciting and altogether overwhelming. She was alive in a way she had never been before and the knowledge was as frightening as it was thrilling. This power he had, she had never felt anything like this with Harper, not for a second. It was as though she had no will of her own, as though every curve and rounded part of her had been created to mould into the strong, tough angles and planes of his maleness.

  She was trembling, she could feel it, and his heart was slamming against the wall of his chest like a sledgehammer.

  It was Quinn who stopped and pulled away, his hands moving from stroking the small of her back and becoming restraining instead. She opened her eyes in bewilderment, still captivated by the new sensations he had aroused and half in the world of exploding colour and light he had created behind her closed lids. She stared at him, her eyes wide and dilated and her mouth bruised, and he returned the look, a mask sliding down over the naked passion.

  'We're not thinking straight; it's the evening, the wine
and the lateness of the hour,' he said thickly. 'I had better go.'

  She looked at him blankly, utterly unable to respond with the light, defusing comment the situation called for.

  'I'll give you a call about Jeff and Lynn's party next week, okay?' he continued after a moment or two.

  'Okay.' It was a faint whisper but the best she could do.

  And he nodded abruptly, his face rigid with control as he turned without another word, without even a goodbye, and strode down the path towards the car.

  She shut the door before he had reached the gate, leaning against the wood for a moment with her eyes tightly shut and her heart pounding with the enormity of what had just happened. Fool, fool, fool! The words thudded in her head with ever increasing recrimination. She had behaved like a fool, worse than a fool.

  All her fine words about the need for them to remain as just friends, to keep their distance, and she had practically eaten him.

  'Oh, no…' She opened her eyes to stare into the room and met Tabitha's brilliant green gaze from where the cat had settled herself in the basket again with the sleeping kittens. You see what passion does? it seemed to say as the cat lowered her head to her family. Here today and gone tomorrow.

  Candy levered herself off the door and walked into the kitchen, plugging in the kettle and making herself a strong cup of instant coffee with hands that were shaking. She felt cheap. Cheap and ridiculous. And she had never felt like that before in all her life, not even in the fiasco of the few minutes before the crash when Harper had admitted he had been using her all along.

  Quinn had been totally up front with her from day one. He had made it crystal-clear that the last thing on his agenda—the very last—was any thought of commitment or a permanent relationship with anyone, and what had she done? Virtually invited him into her bed! And it had been Quinn who had stopped. Quinn who had walked away. Oh, hell…

  She drank the coffee straight down and made herself another cup, drinking it curled on the thick rug by the cat basket as she stroked the purring Tabitha and watched the drowsy kittens' enchanting little faces.

  She felt better after a while. They had just kissed, she told herself firmly. All right, so it had been passionate, mind-blowing, but nevertheless it had been just a kiss. They had been entwined so closely she had felt every inch of him against her as though they were naked, but they hadn't been naked. The taste, the feel, the smell of him was stamped on her so indelibly she felt she would never be the same again, but a bath, a good night's sleep, and she would awake feeling like Candy Grey again.

  She had to keep a sense of proportion about this.

  It was another ten minutes before she went upstairs and ran herself a hot bath, generously laced with a madly expensive bubble bath she normally kept for special occasions, in Essie's pretty little bathroom. She undressed quickly, flinging the black dress and underwear in a corner of the bedroom and padding through to the bathroom stark naked, there to lie in the warm, silky water for nearly thirty minutes.

  It took her over an hour to drift into an exhausted sleep once she was in bed and even then she didn't sink deeply into slumber immediately, but skimmed in and out of vivid, disturbing dreams where she was chasing someone, endlessly, through confusing dark corridors, until the beginnings of a pink-edged dawn began to make itself known.

  She awoke then, padded into the bathroom and drank a glass of water and returned to bed, and this time dropped into a deep, dreamless sleep where there were no yesterdays, no tomorrows, just welcome oblivion.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It took every ounce of Candy's will-power to sound cool and calm and collected when Quinn phoned the cottage the next day. She had finally surfaced just after eleven, and after a perfunctory toilet had dressed quickly in jeans and a thick jumper, bundled her hair into a ponytail and left to fetch the Sunday papers.

  Once home again, and with the fire blazing, she had settled down on the sofa with the papers and a cup of coffee, before fixing herself a light lunch of cheese omelette and cold meat, which she ate in front of the fire with Tabitha on the sofa at the side of her helping her out with the home-cured ham and chicken.

  She had bought a furry clockwork mouse the week before for Alfie and his sisters, Jemima and Poppy, along with a couple of other small toys, and the entertainment the trio, provided through the winter afternoon was better than any TV.

  Teatime came and went, and Candy resolutely avoided glancing at the telephone, but then when it rang, at eight o'clock in the evening, her stomach jumped into her mouth and she knew she had been waiting for this moment all day. Of course it might not be Quinn, she told herself as she lifted the receiver. He had said he would call her but he hadn't been specific as to when.

  'Candy?' The deep, dark voice was smooth and friendly. 'Hi, it's Quinn.'

  'Hallo, Quinn.' Hallo, Quinn. She felt an almost hysterical urge to giggle at the calmness of her voice when she had been turning herself inside out half the night over this man. She gripped the receiver tightly and said coolly, 'Thanks again for a lovely evening last night. It was great to meet everyone.'

  'My pleasure.'

  Oh, they were being so polite, but that was better than performing a painful and embarrassing post-mortem that would help neither of them, Candy thought soberly.

  'There's a few of us meeting for a drink in the Saddler's Arms in half an hour,' Quinn said easily, 'and I wondered if you were free to join us. I could pick you up if you like?'

  She moved the telephone away from her ear and stared blankly at it for a second or two. Last night hadn't affected him one tiny bit! Here she'd been, in a state of controlled dithering all day, unable to paint or to put her mind to anything, and he was as cool as a cucumber. She didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or ay, but in the event she called on her considerable source of pride and said pleasantly, 'That would have been nice but I'm in the middle of something. Can I take a raincheck?'

  'Sure. Look, I'm on call for the rest of the week, so I doubt if I'll get the chance to phone again. About Jeff and Lynn's party on Saturday? I'll pick you up round eightish, if that's okay?'

  She took a long, deep breath and then said brightly, 'Absolutely, I'll be ready. Goodbye, Quinn.'

  The briefest of pauses, and then, 'Goodbye, Candy.'

  Candy sat looking at the telephone for a full minute after she had replaced the receiver. He was an unfeeling brute. All right, so he'd looked devastated when he'd spoke about his wife and son, but as far as now was concerned, as far as she was concerned, he couldn't care less. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that his lovemaking last night had been the most shattering experience of her whole life and it had left him cold. Emotionally at least He'd certainly been physically turned on, she thought with a measure of bitter satisfaction, although even then it had been Quinn who had called a halt.

  She shook her head, sucking in then expelling an irritable sigh. Enough of this! She wasn't going to waste one more minute worrying about Quinn Ellington. He had set the ground rules and she would make sure they kept to them from now on. Never, never would she put herself in such a vulnerable position again. Last night had been a definite one-off and if he thought differently then she would put him wise in no uncertain terms. Escort—fine, friend—fine, lover—no way.

  Over the next three weeks until Christmas it became clear that Quinn had no intention of repeating his brief lapse from being strictly platonic.

  They went to Jeff and Lynn's party and Candy found she enjoyed herself thoroughly, and when Quinn took her home his inspection of the cottage was brief and cool and he had gone before she knew it, with nothing more controversial than a brief peck on her cheek.

  She joined Quinn and some of his friends at the Saddler's Arms the following evening, when he repeated his invitation from the week before, but she insisted on driving herself and meeting Quinn there.

  Quinn was the epitome of the attentive boyfriend whilst they had an audience, but when he walked her out to her car parked at the rear
of the little old-fashioned pub, which was all brass and leaded windows and oak beams, he merely brushed her forehead with his lips—as though she was five years old, Candy thought resentfully—and waved her goodbye.

  And so it continued, through an evening out with Jeff and Lynn to the cinema and a meal afterwards, another party—at Colonel Llewellyn's beautiful home this time— and finally a Christmas dinner the night before Christmas Eve at Marion's home, with Jamie and his girlfriend making up a sixsome with Marion and her portly little husband.

  On each occasion Candy enjoyed herself immensely and then, once she was home again and alone with Tabitha and the kittens, found herself pacing the cottage in a state of restless agitation for half the night. And she didn't understand why. Unless it was the strain of keeping up the pretence? she questioned on the morning of Christmas Eve, when she awoke late and found herself reluctant to leave the enveloping warmth of her bed.

  And it was a strain, she admitted with a tired sigh as she snuggled back under the covers for another five minutes of wicked luxury. She had never been any good at acting a part since she had been cast as Mary in the school nativity play when she was five years old, and had frozen at her first sight of the sea of smiling faces and left poor Joseph to make his way to Bethlehem alone. But it wasn't just her fear of inadvertently saying something that would give the game away. She shut her eyes tightly. It was him. Quinn.

  If he had been just a little less handsome, a little less good company, if he had had no sense of humour or been a typical macho man, picked his nose, anything, she could have coped.

  As it was…she found herself as jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof half the time, and it was exhausting. Her whole insides tensed every time he touched her and as his pretend girlfriend he touched her a lot And each time it happened she remembered what it had felt like to be in his arms, tasting him, feeling him, smelling him…