There's No Place Like Home (The MacQuire Women Book 2)

by Peggy Jaeger

  He kissed her once, hard and lightning quick. The look on her face was part worry, part anxiety and all passion when he released her. “You’ve got a pretty expressive face, too, you know, M. I can read everything written across it right now. You don’t know whether to clobber me or knock me down and have a roll in the hay. Literally,” he added, glancing down at their feet, standing on hay.

  That did it. The giggle started deep from within her and in a heartbeat it traveled up and out. She was laughing so hard the bag was shaking in her hands, so Quentin took it from her and hung it from the intravenous pole in the stall.

  “You need to learn a little professionalism, Miss Cleary,” he told her, taking her into his arms and lifting her off her feet for a bone crushing hug.

  “Back at ya, Doc.” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  They were forced apart by the sound of Connor’s whistling as he came up the path to the center. Moira took the feeding tube and gingerly connected it to the tube taped to the mare’s nostrils running down into her stomach. “Here you go, girl. This’ll make you feel right as rain.”

  Quentin moved to the next stall to examine Crystal.

  “Hey, Quentin,” Connor called from the doorway, “Pat told me to remind you about a meeting you guys have at the bank at one o’clock.”

  “Thanks.” He finished his exam and went back to Moira. “I can’t ride out with you for lunch today,” he said. “I forgot Pat and I are meeting the bank manager.”

  “Problem?” She glanced from the feeding drip to him, and then back again to monitor the solution’s flow.

  “No. Your brother and his plans.” He swiped both hands through his hair from temple to nape. “He wants to hire on, but we need to expand first.”

  “Aren’t the four of you enough?”

  “Believe it or not, no. And both our father’s are going to retire soon. My dad’s been dropping hints every other day about traveling with Mom while they’re still—quote—young enough not to need handicapped chairs and accommodations—unquote.”

  “That’s dumb. They’re all still so young. Too young to retire.”

  “Remember though, M, my dad’s been at this longer than yours. He wants to go down to half time. If he does, we need someone to cover the slack, so Pat thinks we need to expand even more.”

  “I honestly never thought Pat had such a business head.”

  “There’s more to your brother than just skirt chasing and playing with dogs,” he told her, watching as she removed the feeding and re-secured the tube. “Good job,” he said with a nod. “So you’re on your own for exercise this afternoon.”

  She nodded. He leaned in and whispered, “Come over tonight. I still have the salmon. And the Rocky Road,” he added with a grin.

  “How can I resist?” she asked.

  Nodding, he left her to groom the horse.

  And later that night, once again, they never got to eat the salmon.

  Or the night after.

  From the moment she walked through the door, neither of them could think about anything but being in the other’s arms. Quentin had never known such emotional completion as when Moira’s arms where clasped around his back, one hand pushing against his butt as he thrust into her again and again until they climaxed simultaneously. To bring her such unbridled pleasure heightened his own like nothing ever had before. Far from being a neophyte lover, Quentin usually prided himself on taking his time, on his ability to keep his control, allowing his partner as much gratification and enjoyment before letting go. But with Moira, try as he might, he couldn’t hold back. One look at her naked body, her lips swollen from his ministrations, her nipples hard and pebbled from his mouth’s attention, and he’d lose all control. Half the time they never made it to his bedroom. He’d pinned her against his front door once, the moment she came through it. Fully clothed and writhing, he pounded into her with her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands clutching his shoulders for support. When they were done, he’d walked her to the living room, still hard and deep inside her, and slowly, removed all their clothing as she lay across his comfortable couch. With the late afternoon light slowly dying as it filtered through his enormous windows, he’d watched the passion and desire float across her face, this time going slower, drawing out her responses.

  He couldn’t get enough of her. Seeing her in the clinic during the day wasn’t enough. Having her in his home wasn’t enough.

  He needed her with him, always.

  ****

  Moira’s life quickly settled into a comfortable routine. She’d work at the clinic during the day, enjoying the work and the pace, then run home for a quick shower and a chat with her parents. Every evening she’d drive to Quentin’s house. By the third night, they’d finally watched all of Slasher 1 and consumed an entire quart of Rocky Road.

  Since the first time, the depth of their lovemaking had deepened and intensified to the point where Moira knew there was no other man she could ever give herself to so freely. She’d stopped thinking this new part of their relationship would change their lifelong friendship. It had, but for the better, just as Tiffany had predicted. There wasn’t a thought or a topic she couldn’t discuss with him.

  The physical part of their relationship was a revelation to her. In just a few short days she’d learned how to please him so thoroughly, she grew bold and powerful when they were alone.

  But Moira got as good as she gave. Quentin took her places emotionally and physically she never knew existed, and now, since she’d experienced what it was to be so totally in love with another person, she wondered how she would ever survive without being so.

  Whenever Quentin kissed and held her, she felt cherished and so dearly loved tears would spring from her eyes at the torrent of swirling emotions spinning within her. Quentin was, honestly and simply, the perfect man for her.

  Best friend, teacher, lover, and companion. He was everything.

  Simply everything.

  The stomach pains had subsided completely, there was a rosy hue in her cheeks—now less sunken—and her eyes were bright, clear and free of worry. Every day she felt stronger and less anxious and on one Wednesday afternoon, Moira knew she was almost back to her old self when Aldus Magnusson showed up on her doorstep and she didn’t experience one cramp or nervous tingle.

  She’d just come back from running errands with her mother in town, which included a quick trip to Clarissa Roger’s office for some repeat blood work. Mother and daughter had invited the young doctor to lunch and she’d happily agreed. Together the trio sat at an outside café where Serena very thoroughly and expertly grilled the doctor about her life. Moira winced a few times at Serena’s bold and personal questions, but Clarissa took it all in stride and answered nicely and respectfully.

  They’d said their goodbyes, Moira leaning in and quickly apologizing for her mother’s nosiness, when Clarissa smiled conspiratorially and whispered back, “She’s just checking out the merchandise.”

  Moira knew in an instant they were going to be the best of friends.

  When Serena turned into the drive, where an oversized Black Mercedes was parked in front of the house, she asked, “Whose car is that?” Moira had no clue, but when they came out of the garage, she saw an extremely large figure clad head to toe in black alight from one of the porch chairs.

  “Moira, cara mia!” Aldus Magnusson swooped down the stairs, if someone of his size could swoop, and took her into his arms in a body-crushing embrace.

  “Mr. Magnusson. What are you doing here?” she asked, the sound muffled into his jacket. He pushed her an arm’s length away and peered at her face. His bushy eyebrows, which always reminded her of two caterpillars sleeping on his face, were drawn deeply inward, his mouth pinched in a pout. Suddenly, the expression changed to one of complete joy and happiness. He laughed and pulled her to his massive frame again, telling her, “Cara, you look amazing. Rested and so much more healthy than the last time I saw you, yes? You have roses in your che
eks and a light in your eyes.”

  Moira wondered how he could tell since he hadn’t looked at her for more than a second before squashing her face to his body again.

  “Ah, and this must be your beautiful and talented mother,” he said, then shook his head and said, “oh, I am sorry. You must be Moira’s sister. One I did not know she had. I am Aldus Magnusson, Moira’s employer.”

  “We’ve met, Mr. Magnusson,” Serena said, a small smile lurking on her lips. “Several years ago when Moira first joined your company. I’m Serena Cleary.”

  “You can not be this young woman’s mother. I will not believe it.” He took her hand in his own, lavishing it with an old world kiss and said, “Please forgive my idiocy. You are even more beautiful than I remember. You blind me with your beauty.”

  Serena smiled as if dealing with a comical child. “We spoke on the phone the other day.”

  “Yes,” he said, letting her hand go and turning back to Moira. “And you never returned my call, Cara, forcing me to come to you. A very tactful maneuver on your part.” His smile was guileless and petulant.

  Moira laughed, took his arm in hers and said, “Come into the house and we can talk.”

  “A wonderful idea, Cara. We have much to speak about.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Whose big ass car is in the driveway?” Pat asked when he came into the kitchen a little while later. “I couldn’t pull around it.”

  “Why are you here?” Serena asked her son, letting him kiss her cheek. “Don’t you have hours?”

  “I took the afternoon off. Where’s Moira? I wanted to see if she’d go riding with me.”

  Serena explained how his sister was occupied with her employer at the moment in their sitting room.

  “Why is he here?” Pat asked, wanting to run into the living room and listen from behind the French doors, as he had so frequently as a child. “What does he want?”

  “My guess is Moira. Back at work.”

  “What? She can’t go back. She’s still sick.”

  Serena cocked her head and stared at her son. “She’s a lot better, Pat, and you know it. Almost back to her old self.”

  “She still looks sick,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “And too skinny. I don’t like this. She’s not fully recovered yet, hell, she’s still on her antibiotic. And dad told me she hasn’t played her piano once since she’s been home. Not once. That alone tells me she isn’t fully recovered yet.”

  Serena stared up at her son. “What’s this all about?”

  “What?”

  She waited a few heartbeats before asking, “This hyper-worried response you have to Magnusson’s coming here.”

  “I don’t think it’s hyper-worried to be concerned. Moira’s not back to her full self yet.”

  “Ordinarily I’d agree with you. But I think it’s something more.” She was silent for a moment before continuing. “Did she ever tell you what happened, what really caused her to leave the company, other than the infection?”

  “No.” He shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “Did she tell you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  Serena shook her head. “This is one story I think should come from her. I don’t feel comfortable repeating it.”

  Pat blew out a breath he said, “Well, at least she told someone. I just wish she’d confided in me. She always has before.”

  Serena rubbed a hand along his cheek. “The bond twins have is scary sometimes. She probably didn’t tell you because you’re adults now and this kind of thing isn’t easily shared. Especially with a brother.”

  “This involves some guy, doesn’t it?” Disgust filtered through his words. “She got hurt by some loser musician. Got her heart broken, right?”

  Serena shook her head. “She needs to tell you, Pat. Not me.”

  The door to the sitting room opened and they heard Moira’s free and girlish laugh.

  “Promise me, Cara, promise me you will consider my offer.”

  “It is enticing.”

  “Good. I want your response—your positive response—by Friday. You can call me. Anytime. Yes?”

  Pat watched his sister kiss the man on the cheek. He was holding her hands in what looked like a death grip, shaking them up and down.

  “Friday,” he said. He turned and walked down to his car.

  Moira stared after him, waved once, and then closed the door, letting out a huge sigh.

  “So that’s the great and powerful Aldus Magnusson,” Pat said, as he walked through the hallway to her.

  “What are you doing here?” she said, coming to him and giving him a hug. “Don’t you have patients?”

  “What is it with the females in this household? Can’t a guy take an afternoon off without being second guessed and interrogated?”

  She squinted up at him and then walked toward the kitchen. “Someone’s in a pissy mood,” she told her mother.

  Pat followed, asking, “What did he want?”

  She took a bottle of water from the refrigerator, opened it and took a long, long pull. “Me,” she said, recapping it, “in Asia. By next week.”

  “You’re not going.” His tone left no doubt it wasn’t a question.

  Moira sat down, her mother joining her. “Are you considering it?” Serena asked, taking her daughter’s hand.

  “He dangled an extremely precious carrot in front of me to come back. It’s why he came here personally today. He said he wanted to see my face when he made me the offer.”

  “What is it?” Serena asked.

  “It doesn’t matter what it is, Mom, because she’s not going.”

  Moira’s eyebrow shot up the same time her mother’s did. “Who died and made you the boss of me?”

  “Somebody has to be.” He leaned against the doorjamb, his arms folded defiantly across his chest, “To make sure you don’t make stupid decisions.”

  Moira’s gaze raked up and down his body. Without a word to him, she turned all her attention to her mother and said, “With Olmhoff’s departure the company needed a new conductor. As luck would have it, it turned out to be Elissandra Devortes.”

  “Oh, my, Moira,” Serena put her hand to her mouth. “You’ve been dying to work with her for years. Ever since the first concert of hers you attended.”

  “I know. She happened to be between engagements and agreed immediately. Mom, to work with her is a dream come true. She’s without doubt the best female conductor on the planet. Her orchestrations are legendary. I would learn so much from just being in her presence, much less playing for her every night.”

  “You’re seriously considering this?” Pat asked, dropping his fisted hands to his sides.

  Moira shrugged. “I have to give him my answer the day after tomorrow because the company leaves Tuesday for Thailand.”

  Pat came and sat down next to her at the table. He reached out to take one of her hands in his and flinched when she pulled it away. “Moira. Think. You’re still on medication because you got sick on the last tour. Your body isn’t recovered yet. You shouldn’t be going anywhere when you’re not up to snuff, especially halfway around the world. And then there’s the real reason why you came home.” He pointedly looked at their mother.

  “You told him?” she asked Serena.

  Serena shook her head and slanted an annoyed look at her son. “Of course not, Moira. I just mentioned you’d confided in me. But I didn’t tell him what it was about.”

  “And that still hurts, M, because of everybody, you should have told me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m the one you’re closest to,” he said. “I’m the one you’ve always confided in. I’m the one who gives you the best advice. Who listens and knows what to do. I’m the problem solver between the two of us. You know it’s true. You should have told me.”

  Moira stared at him for a heartbeat. “I should have told you so you could ensure I wouldn’t make any more stupid decisions,” she said, taunt
ing him with his own words.

  “Yes. No. Wait, because—”

  “Save it. I don’t want to hear anymore.” She glanced down at her watch. “I have to call my agent,” she told her mother. “I promised her I would get back to her by the end of business today. I’ve got a few other calls to make as well.”

  She rose from the chair and grabbed her water bottle.

  Pat turned to Serena. “Mom, you have to talk some sense into her. She can’t leave again.”

  “I don’t want her to go either, Pat,” Serena said, shaking her head, and looking at her daughter, “but I’m certainly not going to tell her she can’t. She’s not a child. She’s a grown woman and if she makes the decision to leave, I’ll support it. I don’t have to like it, but I want her to be happy. If going back to the company makes her happy, you have to accept it the same way I do. You’re not in charge of her, Pat, despite what you think. She is an adult, after all. Just like you are.”

  Falling back in the chair Pat crossed his arms again and said, “This stinks.”

  Moira took a quick hit of the water and glanced over at her brother. “Despite,” she said after swallowing, “what you think, Pat, Mom’s right. I’m not ten years old anymore. I’m fully capable of knowing what I want and going after it.”

  “Even if it makes you so sick you can’t keep any food down? Even if kills you?”

  Moira rolled her eyes. “Drama, thy name is Padric.”

  “I’m not being dramatic, Moira and you know it. We all saw what you looked like when you got here. It wasn’t pretty.”

  “You’re just plain mean today. What’s gotten into you?” she asked, eyeing him from across the table.

  “It’s not me you need to worry about,” he said. “It’s yourself. Do you really think you have it in you to complete another grueling six to eight months of traveling and performing? You just started eating like an adult again a few days ago. What are you going to do in a foreign country if the food makes you sick again? Have you thought about it? Or is the idea of running off again so soon preferable to spending time with the people who really love and care about you, and not the ones who are just using you for your talent?”