by Anne Conley
So he wanted that, but he wanted a woman he couldn’t get enough of, couldn’t take his hands off of, couldn’t stop thinking about. And he wanted her to feel the same.
Quinten wanted it so badly, he was afraid he was projecting those feelings onto Valerie, and he needed to take a step back. He had no idea if she even felt anything for him besides the desire he’d seen spark in her eyes last night. And now that he thought about it in the light of day, he realized he could have been mistaken. It could have just been fear. He had scared the shit out of her, tackling her to the ground like that.
That day was spent double-checking the shop before Valerie went in to work on her craft projects and popping in on Imogene, scaring ten years off her life every time he surprised her by walking into a room. It got to where he did it on purpose, just to hear her squeal. It was mean, he knew, but with her there, the day seemed longer because he wasn’t with Valerie the whole time. He admired Imogene’s tireless energy but resented her presence, even though it afforded another measure of safety for Valerie.
Weird. And he knew it.
He’d looked through all the paperwork on the trust Brandon’s firm had set up for Valerie. In the event of her death, her net worth would be set aside as a trust for the Crisis Center, to be paid out incrementally over the course of several years. But Brandon had set himself up to gain a hefty amount of money as the custodian of the trust. Quinten had re-written it to get the Crisis Center the bulk of the money, instead of the lawyers, and it only awaited Valerie’s signature, and he could file it with a judge as soon as he was able. The whole thing pissed him off. Brandon and his firm—he’d blamed his father—had taken advantage of a woman who was clearly not in her right mind. Her mind had been working against her for three years. He let out a sigh as he printed out the paperwork. He couldn’t believe the gall.
Imogene left after dark, and Quinten made his way over to the shop to check on Valerie and see if maybe he could help. He didn’t want to scare her because that wasn’t funny to him, so he made lots of noise announcing his arrival. It would give her time to slip her mask into place. He’d figured out she didn’t typically work with it on, unless he was around.
“Imogene left.”
“Yeah, I heard her.” She motioned to the video monitor she had set up in her shop. “You’re a turd, scaring her all day like that.” There was a smile in her voice, even as she stayed focused on the mini Pyramid of Giza. She was joking with him, and he liked it.
Leaning a hip on the counter next to her, he watched her focus intently on attaching the sand-colored carpet pieces to the wood with a staple gun. “She makes it too easy.”
“She loved it. She doesn’t usually get much attention when she’s here. I don’t follow her around or anything to check on her.”
He gestured to the monitors. “Well, you don’t really need to.”
“No, I don’t. But she liked it. She likes you.”
Quinten made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and looked over at the bird houses she had hanging on the wall. “These are really pretty. What exactly do you do with them?”
“I sell them online and the proceeds go to the battered women’s shelter. I have found doing something all day helps my frame of mind. And once I learned what I was doing, I figured out I’m pretty good at it.”
“I like doing stuff with my hands, too.” Quinten realized how creepy that sounded when she dropped her staple gun and stared at him, wide-eyed. “I mean, I do stained glass art and design. I make things, too.” Now he felt like a tool. That had totally sounded like a cheap pick-up line, and he regretted it. But she seemed to take him at face value because she picked up her staple gun and got back to work.
“Yeah? Like what kind?”
“Natural stuff. Butterflies, flowers, and birds.”
Valerie took a deep breath, as if fortifying herself. When she spoke, Quinten heard the painstaking way she worded her sentence so it couldn’t be misconstrued. “Rudy comes tomorrow. I can have him pick up some pieces if you want to work out here with me. It would give you something to do besides watch me the whole time. If you want to, I could sell them in my shop online, or you can keep them, or whatever.”
Her nonchalance was charming, and Quinten stifled the urge to touch her. He would like nothing more than to have something to occupy his hands instead of stuffing them into his pockets to hide his constant erection around this woman. Maybe if he was focused on something, he wouldn’t be so turned on all the time.
“That would be awesome. I’d like that.” Of course, he wouldn’t have any of his other gear with him and wouldn’t be able to do much at all with just random glass pieces. “I’ll have to run home and get some other stuff, too. Just bringing me colored glass won’t be enough.”
She froze. He watched her as she gulped in a shaky breath of air, suddenly transformed into a puddle of fear. Valerie turned and reached for him, and he understood. She felt vulnerable when he was gone. A small stream of pride trickled through the anger that she wasn’t safe. But he made her feel more secure.
“Or I can make a list and Rudy can pick it all up for me. I’ll pay him back. It’s not like I can’t use spares.” He shrugged his own non-commitment, realizing the idea of him gone for any amount of time struck a fear in her he didn’t want to ever see again.
When this was over, he would help her overcome her fears. She’d gotten better since he’d been there, but there was still a long way to go. He vowed to help her become whole again.
With a sigh, Valerie dressed in a pair of leggings and a tank top, intent on jogging some. It was three o’clock on the morning, and if she just stayed awake, she’d sleep that much better. That’s what she hoped.
When Quinten returned from canvassing the other part of the house, his steps were no less determined as he came into her den area, where she was just warming up on her treadmill.
“Didn’t think you’d actually go back to bed,” he groused at her before he grabbed his keys.
“Where are you going?” She stopped the treadmill and looked at him. He wasn’t going to leave, was he? Her heartrate sped up, and her stomach knotted as she watched him.
“We’re taking a drive. Come on.” He turned toward the garage without looking at her.
“Wait a minute. I don’t go anywhere.” She was frozen at the idea. Her sneakers were suddenly made of cement; she couldn’t lift them if she’d wanted to. The mere idea of leaving her house was too much.
Quinten turned to see her still standing there.
“It’s dark. Nobody can see you.” His shoulders were tense, but he managed to send her a reassuring smile. “I need to think about something, and I think best when I drive. Come on.” He cajoled, “I’ve got a convertible. When’s the last time you watched the stars while you drove through the hills?”
Valerie bit her lip. “Never.”
Quinten held his hand out to her, his massive paw threatening to wreak havoc on her with one simple touch. His eyes on her were soft, inviting almost. With a deep breath, Valerie went for it, forcing her feet to move far enough she could touch him. When his fingers clasped around hers, she felt the roughness of his skin, the undeniable maleness of him, and the safety his very presence represented pulsed up her spine, even as it stiffened. She followed him.
She would probably follow this man anywhere.
Quinten’s car was luxurious and totally contradicted everything she knew about the man, proving to herself she didn’t really know him at all. Tan leather, supple to the touch, cradled her as she sat in it. And it smelled good—like Quinten’s aftershave, expensive leather, and sweat. Leaning back, she pressed her thighs together, noticing her heart wasn’t racing like it should have been.
Not in the I-haven’t-left-my-house-in-three-years sort of way, anyway. It was racing, though, but in a wholly different way.
Quinten didn’t speak; he only folded his body up behind the wheel and started the car, the purring indicative of a powerful engine und
er the hood. Resting his hand on the head rest behind her, he turned and backed out of the garage, and then they were off.
On a drive.
In the dark.
Outside.
It was amazing.
As the car ate up the miles, they sat in silence, Quinten putting on some smooth music. Classical guitar, Valerie recognized. Another contradiction, cracking the façade of Quinten’s exterior. When they were away from the lake, he pulled over and lowered the roof, and Valerie just leaned her head back.
They were driving south, toward the hills outside San Antonio. It was a far cry from the mansion on the lake her parents had picked out for her after the divorce. She’d been too distraught to even think about lodging, holing herself away in a penthouse suite. But her parents thought the house would be what she needed to get better. And it had helped, if nothing more than making her better at hiding herself away.
The wind blew through her hair, and she couldn’t stop the smile from cracking open her face. It was glorious, the feeling of freedom she experienced as she watched the stars in the massive Texas sky. The weather was cool, and the wind was borderline cold, but she didn’t care. She was enjoying feeling it too much.
Dropping her head, Valerie watched Quinten’s arm as he deftly switched through the gears on the car. It was something she’d never realized she enjoyed doing, but as he wove through the hilly terrain, his thigh muscles bunched while he pumped the clutch and smoothly shifted the transmission, man becoming a part of the machine.
It was unbelievably intimate, and Valerie felt almost voyeuristic as an inane satisfaction rose up in her at his movements.
She was getting turned on by watching him drive. This was nuts.
It wasn’t just watching him drive, though; it was the entire experience—being in such close quarters with him, leaving her house, the wind rushing through her hair, the stars in the sky, Quinten himself. The car itself was an experience. The duality of being next to him in such a small car, with the top down so she could experience the enormous Texas sky, was awesome.
She closed her eyes and just enjoyed the various sensations, desperately trying to sort them.
“Are you cold?” Quinten was watching her out of the corner of his eye, his face slightly tilted toward her. She shook her head.
“I am, but it’s not bothering me. This is wonderful.” She smiled at him, and he returned it, focused again on the road.
“I have a blanket in the trunk, if you want me to get it.”
She would love to be cocooned in Quinten’s essence, as surely the blanket smelled like him, but she didn’t want him to stop this magic to retrieve it.
“No, I’m alright,” she managed to get out. Clamping her jaw shut to keep her teeth from chattering, she sat forward and watched the road disappear under the car.
She felt like a child on their first car ride, but Valerie didn’t care. She embraced the giddiness, unable to remember the last time she’d felt this way, if ever.
Desire. She hadn’t felt desire for another man in so long, she wasn’t sure what to do with it. She knew it was from the endorphins rushing through her system at the car ride, getting away from her house, the wind blowing through her hair, across her skin. But it was undoubtedly desire for Quinten, no matter the reasons for it.
For years, she’d channeled her energies into her craftwork, her charities, finding some way to continue supporting them without her face. But now, in this moment, she wanted to channel her energies into something else entirely.
She’d taught herself to embrace her reclusiveness, ignoring her parents’ pleas to get outside and do something again. But now, she was outside. And it was amazing.
They drove around for what seemed like hours, but it ended too quickly. They pulled back into Valerie’s garage just as the sun was starting to come up, and Quinten pushed the button to replace the convertible top. It filled the air with an automatic whirring sound, intruding slightly on Valerie’s newfound peace.
“Thank you for that,” she whispered in the sudden darkness of the car.
Quinten was looking at her intently, and she couldn’t read the expression on his face, but when he remained silent, she reached for her door handle to get out.
“Let me,” Quinten murmured as he got out of the car and rushed around to her side to open her door. He did it with an ease and grace that belied his bulk, and Valerie knew it was ingrained in him. That wasn’t a taught skill; he’d been chivalrous since he was born.
When she unfolded her legs from the car and stood, Quinten didn’t move back to allow her space. She was nearly flush against his body, and she craned her neck to look at him.
His pulse pounded erratically in his neck, matching the adrenaline still pumping through her veins. That was her excuse for what she did next.
Valerie wrapped her hands around Quinten’s neck and kissed him.
It was just a brush of her lips against his, but it fired up everything inside her at the contact with his lips. They were soft and warm, and a riot of foreign sensations swarmed inside her body. Quinten’s hands automatically went to her waist, but Valerie didn’t give herself enough time to enjoy the way they fit together.
Hands on his chest, she gently pushed him back, and he stepped away, watching her with a strange look in his eyes. She didn’t question anything. She’d already gone so far outside her comfort zone; she wasn’t going to delve any further into what this meant. Or what would happen next. She was just happy she’d acted on an impulse for once.
Her body still hummed as she went inside her house and into her bedroom. As she crawled onto her bed, everything overwhelmed her, in a good way. Valerie grabbed a fluffy pillow and put it over her face, squealing into it like a twelve-year-old girl.
She’d never been so happy in her life.
Granted, Quinten was probably just trying to make her less scared after all the things that had happened. He was a nice guy like that. It was the adrenaline that made her kiss him. He didn’t really respond either way, but she’d done it for herself because the events of the night were so overwhelming and the drive was so amazing. Valerie had wanted to thank him, or something, AND she’d wanted to kiss him.
So she had.
She couldn’t stop smiling. And she didn’t even try.
Quinten was having coffee with Batman this morning. He’d determined none of the dead birds found in her craft houses were Valerie’s. She spent a lot of time out here, especially in the evenings, but Quinten preferred the morning times, when the birds were just coming out to greet the day. Their cheerful warbles were almost as good as the designer coffee she drank. It helped him clear the fog of yet another sleepless night next to Valerie’s room out of his mind while he planned out his day.
He needed to check in with Evan today. He should have the background dossier on everyone in Valerie’s past ready. And Simon had texted him last night, asking for an update. He needed to call him, too.
But this house was getting to him, in a good way. He could feel it working its way under his skin. Even though he wasn’t making Valerie scream and sigh and whimper the way he wanted to, he still found he didn’t want to leave. She had created this soothing cocoon of sensations and textures in her domain, and Quinten wanted to stay here forever.
With her.
Yeah, he was fucked. He wanted Valerie. He was well on his way to falling in love with her. And it was ridiculous. He barely knew her, despite living here for a week.
He wanted to be around her, not necessarily as she was afraid to see and be seen, although he would take her that way, if she insisted. But he saw she wanted something, to be different, and he wanted to help her with that, hence the impromptu car ride last night.
Sure, he knew she needed to stay busy, and that was undoubtedly a challenge for somebody who never left her house. He knew she was kind and generous; all her hard work went to charitable purposes. She was fucking gorgeous, no matter what she thought about herself. He’d seen that with his own ey
es and felt the ridiculous pleasure at being one of the few who had.
And that barely-there kiss she’d planted on his lips last night… Shiiiiit. It was almost a kiss his sister would give him, except Valerie was most certainly not his sister. The brush of her lips had fired up every nerve ending Quinten had, and he’d wanted to push her against his car and deepen the kiss. But she’d pushed him away and gone inside, not bringing it up again. He still didn’t know what to think about it. Was it just a kiss of thanks? Did she want more? He couldn’t wait to have that conversation.
But he still couldn’t do anything about it with her as a client. He had to make her safety a priority. If only he could do that without shadowing her twenty-four seven, it would be so much easier. For him, anyway. It wouldn’t make her feel any safer, he was sure.
Batman let out a loud, pinging sound that had him checking his phone for a text, then feeling foolish.
“You want some attention?”
“I’m Batman,” the bird responded, followed quickly by, “I see you,” in a chilling whisper. Quinten’s hair on his arms stood on end as he watched the beautifully marked parrot fluff his feathers. “Shut up, or you’ll be cat food,” Batman said in a menacing undertone. Goose bumps spread on Quinten’s scalp. Had someone said that to the bird? Someone who wanted to remain hidden?
“Who said that, Batman?” Quinten asked, knowing the bird couldn’t answer. They were mimickers, not answerers. He didn’t want to believe the stalking asshole had watched her from this place, where Batman could hear him, her inner haven of birds.
“When I get my way, all you shit factories will be gone.” The tone of the bird’s voice was so ominous, Quinten checked behind him. Batman groomed his feathers, fluffing them up and running his beak down his wing. Then he wobbled over to Quinten and did something similar with the scruff on his chin.
