“Aunt Quinn!” Scrambling up, Emily ran to her. Laughing, Quinn knelt to wrap her in a tight hug. Placing Ethan on his feet, Mercer hurriedly put away the game pieces and rose to greet Quinn warmly, as well.
Shelley had been the sunny, tall blonde with looks that could have quite possibly gotten her a modeling contract, if she hadn’t preferred a life here with Mark. But Carter noted that Quinn had grown into her own subtle beauty, something he hadn’t noticed at Shelley’s funeral five years ago. He did remember embracing her, telling her how sorry he was. Carter swallowed at the memory. Shelley’s death had devastated both families.
Quinn’s cool, gray-green eyes turned to him.
“Carter, you remember Quinn,” Mark said.
Carter’s mind jumped to Quinn at fifteen. How he’d coaxed her out of her bathing suit and lain on top of her on the cool, white sand. He had taken her virginity that spring night. And all the while, he had been thinking about her older sister. He wasn’t proud of what he’d done, or the way he treated her afterward. He had been a seventeen-year-old asshole, uncaring of Quinn’s feelings and stupidly in love with his brother’s girlfriend.
His shoulder ached. Carter gave a small nod.
* * *
Nora had been right about Mark’s new wife being exceptionally pretty. But Samantha had also been warm and welcoming toward Quinn—nothing at all like her mother had implied. Quinn was in the kitchen with Samantha, having offered to help with the dinner clean up so the others could spend more time with Mercer, who would be returning to Atlanta the following day.
“I can’t believe Mark didn’t mention you were vegetarian.” Samantha’s long, dark hair fell over her shoulders as she washed one of the china plates in the sink before handing it to Quinn. “I really am sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Quinn assured her. She dried the plate with a dishtowel, then placed it in one of the gourmet kitchen’s glass-fronted cabinets. “I’m used to eating around things, and I wouldn’t want you preparing something special for me. The salad and roasted vegetables were delicious. And I went vegetarian just a few years ago. Mark probably didn’t even know.”
The dinner had been casual, filled with family conversation taking place over heaping platters of fried oysters and soft-shell crab. Quinn had sat between Mark and a talkative Emily and across the table from Carter, who had been polite but quiet, even detached from the discussion going on around him. Quinn couldn’t blame him. The medical documents she had reviewed were a grim reminder of what he had been through, as well as the discomfort he was no doubt still in. She’d noticed he had lost weight from his already lean frame, and he kept his weakened right shoulder immobilized in a sling. There were other changes in his physical appearance, as well. His thick hair, normally lowlighted and cropped close for the cameras, had darkened and was unruly and longish. Facial scruff masked his famous features. But each time Quinn had lifted her gaze to find him looking curiously back at her, those piercing, midnight-blue eyes were unmistakable.
His scrutiny had created a wary tingling in the pit of her stomach.
“Quinn, I have to say again it’s wonderful to have you here,” Olivia enthused a short time later as she entered the kitchen. She had brought in a serving tray that held coffee cups and the remains of a beautiful chocolate torte Samantha had prepared for dessert. Olivia placed the tray on the wide, granite island. She had aged some since the last time Quinn had seen her, but she was still stylishly dressed, a string of pearls around her throat and her trademark silver bob perfectly maintained. A small ache inside her, Quinn recalled how fond Shelley had been of her mother-in-law.
“It’s been far too long since you’ve been home.” Olivia’s clear blue eyes shone with hope, and she took Quinn’s hands in hers. “I just know you’re going to be able to help our Carter get back to himself.”
Before Quinn could respond, Anders appeared at the kitchen’s arched entrance. He was a big, jovial man, with a bow-string tie and a full head of gray hair. Quinn had already connected the name to one of Charleston’s oldest investment firms.
“You ready to go, Olivia, dear?” he asked.
“I am. I’ve already said my good-bye to Mercer.” Releasing Quinn’s fingers and giving Samantha a quick embrace, she accepted the arm Anders extended to her.
“That was a crackerjack dinner, Samantha. Good night, ladies,” Anders said.
“They’re quite a couple,” Quinn commented once the two had disappeared around the corner. “How long have they been together?”
“About seven months.” Samantha took the china cups from the tray and began rinsing them in the sink. “Anders gave her a huge sapphire for Christmas, but Olivia swears it’s not an engagement ring.”
Quinn covered the remainder of the chocolate torte with foil, then placed it in the stainless-steel refrigerator. Turning, she ran her hands uncertainly over the thighs of her dark jeans, focusing for a moment on the row of vintage copper lighting fixtures that hung over the island before speaking. “Samantha…I want to thank you for being such a good stepmother to Emily. I haven’t been here, and my mother…”
“I love Emily as if she were my own,” Samantha assured her, her soft-brown eyes sincere. She added gently, “And I know Nora’s had a hard time with all this.”
Quinn gave a faint nod, unable to say anything that would defend or explain her mother’s behavior.
Samantha walked around the island to where Quinn stood. “We really are glad you’re here, Quinn. Mark has a lot of faith in you—the whole family does. You probably already know we’ve been through a string of physical therapists.”
“I don’t know if I’m taking the job,” Quinn admitted with a tense sigh. “Or if Carter even wants my help. He hasn’t had much to say to me tonight.”
“Don’t take it personally. Olivia’s right—he isn’t himself. He’s hurting, and the movie studios are starting to pressure him. He has a film releasing in the spring, and they have expectations he’ll do publicity for it. He’s contractually obligated.”
“He isn’t ready for that,” Quinn acknowledged.
“Maybe you could go try and talk to him now? I can finish up in here.”
She couldn’t put it off any longer. Leaving the kitchen, Quinn wandered back toward the main living area of the massive, beautifully furnished beach home. Decorated in creamy whites and neutrals, it seemed typical of a place where one of the rich and famous might live. She thought of Jake’s Mediterranean-style villa in San Francisco. It wasn’t as large as this house, but it had a view of the bay and was nearly as luxurious. In the beginning, she’d been enchanted with it.
Now, the thought of ever going back there sickened her.
Quinn stopped outside the living area with its high, vaulted ceiling and exposed, reclaimed-wood beams. Mercer and Emily were curled together on an overstuffed couch, watching an animated movie on a large-screen television. Nearby, Mark paced slowly in front of a stacked-stone hearth with flames dancing inside it. He held a sleeping Ethan, the toddler’s cheek resting on his shoulder. Quinn’s heart pinched as she took in the family scene unnoticed.
Carter wasn’t with them.
It was possible he had retreated to the home’s upper level. If so, Quinn didn’t feel comfortable looking for him there. Instead, she backed from the living area and headed to the solarium to check on Doug. He’d been whining earlier, but had since quieted down. Reaching double, beveled-glass doors that opened onto the sweeping enclosed space, she felt her heart skip a small beat. Carter sat on a slip-covered sofa that was part of a larger seating arrangement, leaning forward as Doug trotted to him with his favorite ball in his mouth. She watched as he rubbed the dog’s chest, speaking lulling words to him in that faintly honeyed drawl that was nearly as famous as his face. After a short time, Doug relinquished the ball, dropping it into Carter’s left hand so he could toss it again.
“Mark said I could bring him. I hope you don’t mind,” Quinn said a bit nervously, making her presence known.
Carter looked up at her as she stood between the open doors. “I brought some of his things to occupy him. I didn’t want to leave him at my mother’s—she isn’t very dog-friendly. I’m sorry about the whining.”
“He just got lonely in here, is all.” Doug returned to him, and Carter rubbed the canine behind his ears. “The kids were in here earlier. I came in to supervise, mostly to make sure the dog survived.”
Tentatively, Quinn entered the room as he and Doug played tug-of-war with the ball. She had thought herself immune, but Carter’s profile in the subdued lighting caused her breath to stall momentarily inside her chest. For the longest time, she had stubbornly avoided seeing anything he was in, until her curiosity had finally won out. Since then, she had seen him on television and in movies. He was a good actor, more than a sex symbol, she conceded. He had the ability to connect with his characters, disappear inside them so completely she would momentarily forget who she was watching and that they shared a past.
A memory of that night on the beach came to her without warning. Quinn shook it away.
“I know you know why I’m here,” she said, breaking the room’s quiet. “I’m sorry for what happened to you, Carter.” Thinking of Bianca Rossi, she added, “And for your loss.”
He bowed his head. When he finally spoke, his tone was colored in carefully neutral shades.
“Mark believes you’re some kind of miracle worker.” He didn’t look at her as he tossed the ball and Doug went scrambling after it again. This time, however, the dog settled onto the seagrass area rug with it, nudging the orb back and forth with his nose.
“I’ve had patients who would say slave driver is a more apt description,” Quinn said, trying to keep things light as she moved closer. “But there’s really no miracle to it. What’s most important to a patient’s recuperation is his attitude and motivation.” With honesty, she added, “I’ve been warned neither of yours is very good at the moment.”
Carter’s lips pressed together in silent acknowledgment. Quinn stumbled for something to fill the void. “Mark gave me a quick tour of the workout room on the bottom floor when I got here. You have everything you need—as good as at any rehab facility. Whoever equipped it was thorough.”
He frowned into the glass he had picked up from the coffee table, taking a sip before placing it back down. Quinn had noticed Carter hadn’t had wine with the little dinner he’d eaten, but she suspected he had gone off to be by himself afterward to have a drink without being criticized.
“You’re right—he was thorough,” he grumbled. “He even equipped it with a hidden camera.”
“I…heard about that,” Quinn admitted. She eased down onto the sofa beside him. “Carter, I’ve gone over your case files. I know the extent of your injuries and the surgeries. I understand what kind of pain you must be in.”
He ran lean, masculine fingers through his shaggy hair, his jaw tense.
“You should know I’ve worked with people who are just as frustrated as you. Just as angry about their situation. And I know what you most likely think about physical therapy.”
He looked at her then, his eyes like dark blue velvet. Quinn noticed again the hollows underneath them.
“You think it’s going to hurt and progress will be slow.” She drew in a breath. “Both are likely true—”
“And you’ll make it harder by insisting I’m off pain medication.”
She shook her head. “Not if you need it. I’d rather you be able to participate in therapy, not retreat from it because you’re hurting. If we work together, after we’ve made some strides and you’re seeing benefits, we could try tapering down the meds to evaluate how bad the pain still is.”
She indicated the crystal tumbler he had picked up again.
“Carter…you should be careful about mixing prescription meds with alcohol,” she reprimanded gently.
His smile was tight-lipped. “It’s just one drink. And I can see why Mark’s so big on you. You and he are reading from the same script.”
She wasn’t deterred. Quinn lowered her voice. “That’s because he cares about you. You’re lucky to have so many people who love you—your family as well as your fans.” She thought of the explosion in social media after the attack, as well as the makeshift monument fans had created in front of Cedars-Sinai during those first days of his hospitalization, when his survival had been so uncertain. “After…what happened, I’ve never seen such an outpouring of love. People who didn’t even know you were praying for—”
“What’s your point, Quinn?” he asked tiredly, rubbing his brow. “That I should be working harder for everyone?”
“No. You have to want this for yourself.” She thought for a moment, trying to find some incentive that might attract his interest. “Is there something you’d like to get back to? Something we could work toward?”
Despite his closed expression, he finally said, “The beach.”
She had expected him to say something related to his career—to get back to the top physical condition he’d obviously been in, to be well enough to take part in promotions for his next movie. Carter stared at the floor, his voice a low rasp. “I’d like to go down the goddamn steps to the beach and take a walk without losing my breath…” He swallowed heavily. “Or being afraid I might not make it back up them.”
Quinn had noticed the rather steep wood stairs that led down to the sand when she’d arrived.
“It’s a good goal,” she said quietly. “Anxiety is normal after cardiac surgery. And I know it doesn’t feel like it, but the damage to your heart and lungs has been repaired. It just takes some time to recover and get back your strength and lung capacity. I’d be monitoring your heart rate and oxygen levels closely. Making certain you’re not overtaxing yourself.”
He sat very still. Quinn rose from the sofa to give him time to think about what she had said. Looking around the room that she imagined was painted with light during the day, she noticed that, like the rest of the house, it had a coastal aesthetic, with seashells in glass jars and groupings of driftwood among the artwork and expensive-looking accents. A cushioned window seat ran the length of the room, and above it, tall windows revealed the whitecaps of crashing ocean waves that were in contrast to the black night. Focused on the view, Quinn failed to realize Carter had risen from the couch, too. When she turned, he stood closely in front of her. At the dearth of space between them, she felt her heart beat harder. He’d removed the sling earlier, and he held his injured shoulder carefully, his left hand lightly cupping his right elbow. The cane she’d seen him using remained against the sofa’s arm. Carter was tall like Mark, and she had to look up at him.
“I appreciate your coming here, but this isn’t going to work, Quinn.”
Her face grew hot. She felt the same reasoning deep inside her, but some part of her wanted to hear him say it. “Why not?”
A look of discomfort crossed his gaunt yet still-handsome face, deepening the lines of tension bracketing his mouth. He paced a few halting steps from her and then returned. At some point, Carter had pushed up the sleeves of the soft-looking sweater he wore with jeans, and her eyes fell to the shiny, raised red scars on the inside of his right forearm.
Defense wounds. The violent details of the stabbing reported by the media flashed through her mind.
“Do I have to spell it out?”
His terse words drew her eyes back to his. Carter’s eyebrows had drawn together in a hard frown. He spoke in a slightly breathless tone, as if he had overexerted himself. “It’s what we’ve been dancing around for years at every family event. That night on the beach. You were just fifteen, and I used you. You’ve never forgiven me.”
His words quivered inside her, like an arrow that had hit its mark. Still, Quinn raised her chin fractionally. “You’re wrong, Carter. That was a long time ago. We’re both adults now.”
She added in a rush of words, “But whether you choose me or not, you need to start working with someone. You need to start getting serious a
bout your recuperation. If you fall much further behind, you may never recover from this. I’m offering you my services, Carter. You can take them or leave them.”
For several seconds, his sapphire gaze remained on her, his squared jaw set. Then with a dismissive air, he turned and walked stiffly from the room, the cane forgotten. Doug trailed him to the glass doors, where he sat expectantly, tail wagging, as if he might return.
Quinn’s breath burned inside her throat. Irked and embarrassed by his curtness, she grabbed her duffel from the floor and began blindly packing the dog’s things.
Chapter Six
“Carter…we’re leaving soon.”
Samantha’s soft voice caused Carter to open his eyes. He realized he had fallen asleep, upright on the sofa in the master suite’s sitting room where he had sequestered himself. Lifting his head from where it had fallen back against the cushions, he sat up straighter. Samantha held Ethan on her hip. The sleepy-eyed toddler sucked his thumb.
“Ethan isn’t the only one who’s tired,” Samantha noted as she stood over him, concern in her eyes. “You should try to go to bed soon.”
“Yeah,” he rasped, scrubbing a hand over his face, still a bit disoriented. He reached up to toy with Ethan’s small, sneakered foot. “You want to give me some of that thumb, bro?”
Ethan shook his head, grinning. To Samantha, Carter said, “Thanks for everything. Good night.”
Exiting the room, she brushed shoulders with Mark, who stood in the doorway.
“I’ll be down in a minute,” he told her, touching her arm. “Mercer’s getting the kids’ things together.”
Once Samantha was gone, Carter dropped his head, avoiding Mark’s discerning gaze as he entered and used the remote to mute the television.
“I didn’t get a chance to speak with Quinn. She rushed out a while ago like she was late to be somewhere,” he said pointedly. “Since she’d barely make eye contact and you’d disappeared, I take it things didn’t go well.”
Low Tide: Rarity Cove Book Two Page 5
