by Drea Stein
The look crossed that over Colleen’s face seemed to indicate that what he had said was deeply unsettling. How could he admit that he’d been waiting for her for over ten years? That every other woman he’d met had been nothing but a substitute and that he’d never quite gotten Colleen McShane out of his head, not since they sat next to each other in art class, not until he almost gotten her fully undressed on prom night, and not since he tasted her lips and felt his body inside of her. Oh no, she was worth the wait.
But he knew that if he acted anything less than lighthearted, she’d run away. He wasn’t going to hurt her or Adele; he just needed her to see that. So he let her go with just a smile, the kind of smile that he hoped hinted at fun later on. She slid out of the truck without a word and hurried up the steps and into her house. He watched the lights as they winked on and off as she made her way through the house until she got to Adele’s room. He saw the flick of the curtain, knew that she was looking down at him. So he waved his hand and eased the truck away from the curb and left her.
Chapter 34
“This is your boat?” Eleanor asked, looking around, taking it in. It was nice, she supposed, as far as boats went, but how was she supposed to know? Cars, she knew. Boats, not so much. The boat was neat and clean, and from the way Quent was beaming, she knew he was proud of it.
“The Lady O’Brien,” Quent said grandly, with more than his usual brogue slipping out, as he held out his hand so that Ellie could hop lightly aboard. The boat swayed beneath her, and she all but fell into Quent’s arms, which were big and strong and easily steadied her. His brown eyes were gentle at first, then darkened as they stood for a moment in each other’s arms. She shifted, and the moment passed. Quent dropped his arms in a rush as if he had been too forward.
Ellie took a delicate step forward. She had forgone the heels, on the advice of Colleen, and worn sneakers: cute white ones, of course, with a thick sole. Crisp white jeans, a blue and white striped shirt, and a navy blue canvas jacket completed her ensemble. She had pulled her hair back in a low ponytail but even so the wind was whipping it around. The breeze had been lighter in town, but out here at the docks, it was kicking up a ripple on the water. The air was cool, cooler than she had thought it would be.
“I thought I’d take you out to the lighthouse and back. We won’t be out too long. The temperature is cooler than I thought.”
He looked over her as if assessing if this was really happening.
“All righty,” Eleanor said and realized that the boat smelled faintly of fish.
“Guess, I’ll be casting off then,” Quent said.
Ellie didn’t know which of them was more nervous. Was she unsettled because of the gentle rocking of the boat or because she and Quent were finally alone? Eleanor took a seat gingerly on the white vinyl-covered bench, next to where the steering wheel stood. Quent bustled about and soon they were off. The roar of the engine was loud enough so that they didn’t have to talk. Eleanor looked at the water and tried to gulp down some air. The boat moved slowly through the water, leaving powerful waves in its wake. They passed a thicket of boats moored close into the marina, and then they were out into the open water of the harbor. It was a sunny day. Not too warm though, and she was glad she had her jacket. Quent stood tall, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the throttle as he carefully threaded his way through boats and buoys. Once they were clear of the mooring field, he pushed down the lever and the boat leapt ahead in time with Eleanor’s stomach.
“Well, what do you think?” Quent asked, his voice necessarily booming above the roar of the engine. “Not too fast for you?”
She wanted to laugh. She’d been married to a race car driver; speed didn’t bother her, but this was a different kind of freedom, rocketing out here on the wide-open expanse of the water. The sun was starting to set, and as it was too loud to really talk, she leaned back and let the wind slide over her and through her and, for once, let the sadness that had been weighing on her slip away.
Chapter 35
Colleen knocked on Jake’s door, trying not to feel nervous. She double-checked to make sure she had her phone with her, already knowing that she did. The neighbor was babysitting Adele, so there was nothing to worry about. Still, all of this made her feel guilty, as if she were sneaking away doing something illicit. She took a deep breath. She was a single, grown woman, and she was allowed to go on a date. Or just have sex, she thought as he opened the door. Jake was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt. His feet were bare, no hat or sunglasses. His hair was just a little longer than its usual closely cropped length, and crinkles around his blue eyes showed when he smiled as he let her inside. He smelled good, like Jake, fresh wood and soap, and her heart fluttered as he stepped back and beckoned her to come in.
She stepped into his apartment. It was a rental, one of the few on the top floor of the building they called the Annex, which was part of the marina and the restaurant. It was a nice, modern, simply finished apartment with a galley kitchen, the counter dividing it from the living room and eating area. A sliding glass door led out onto a balcony with a view of the harbor. A hallway with two closed doors led away from the front of the apartment.
He leaned down to kiss her cheek, but she met him mouth to mouth. After a moment, his arms wrapped around her, and he pulled her into him. She kissed him back, feeling the need rise in her. She turned him around, pushing him in the direction of the hallway, already thinking about the bedroom.
“Whoa, wait a second,” he said. “There’s no need to rush.”
She put the bottle of wine she had brought on the marble countertop. “Obviously you’ve never dated a single mom before. Babysitter can only stay until ten thirty, so we have approximately two hours and thirty minutes.”
“Um, okay,” Jake said, “but we could have dinner, you know, and talk.”
Her blue eyes were fixed on him. She had on a light coat over one her favored dresses. She smelled like lemon and lavender and already he wanted more, but he had promised himself that he would be a gentleman about this, take his time. Just because they were in a place with a bed didn’t mean that they had to jump right into it. He hadn’t counted on Colleen having other ideas.
“What’s that song?” she asked suddenly, stopping.
“Sorry, I’m not sure how that got in there,” Jake said. He grinned. “You know we never got to dance.”
“What?”
“Well, we never got to dance at the prom. Want to try it now?”
“Jake,” she looked at him. “We can’t go back, you know.”
He nodded, looked at her, and tapped his phone. The song switched to something from Train.
“How about this one?” he said and moved over to her, slid her into his arms.
“You don’t know how to dance, do you?” she said after a moment.
“Don’t you just sway to the music?” he murmured into her hair. He didn’t care that they were barely moving because she was in his arms. He could feel her, delicate, yet strong, her long lean body next to his own. He was lying; he did want to pull her straight into bed, but he warned himself to slow things down. They didn’t have to rush, but he couldn’t stop feeling this need for her, and he leaned down and kissed her.
She responded immediately, fire meeting fire, as she made an almost inaudible sound of pleasure. Every part of him wanted her, and when he took a moment, looked at her, he saw his feelings mirrored in her eyes. He let his hands run down her sides, and with one swift, smooth movement, lifted her up and carried her into the bedroom.
He put her down on the bed, took a moment to admire the full length of her. Her eyes never left his face, as she peeled her jacket off and tossed it aside. There was something so very sexy about her, as she leaned back on her elbows, with her hair splayed out behind her, her dress a bold countertop to the light gray bedspread. His eyes traveled over her, taking it all in.
Colleen reached out, hooked a finger in the belt loop of his jeans and pulled him closer. He di
dn’t think anymore, just sunk down with her, kissing her, while his fingers found the zipper of her dress. She helped him peel it off, so that her creamy skin was a backdrop against her darker bra and panties. He ran a hand over her flat belly, felt her shiver. She lifted his shirt and pulled it off of him. He couldn’t help but notice the smile as she looked at him, as she ran her fingers over him.
“Swinging hammers agrees with you,” she said as her hands drifted down and gripped him between his jeans. He hissed and grabbed her hands, held them away from him and kissed her. She moved, but he held her still, teasing her with his tongue and his hands as he took his time, exploring every inch. He unsnapped her bra, releasing her breasts, kissing them so she breathed sharply. He looked at her, saw her eyes were unfocused, filled with need and want. He moved down, slipping his hand between her skin and the fabric of her panties, found her, warm and moist, and touched her. She arched and moaned under his touch and he drove her higher and higher. He could feel her, feel that she was ready. He let go of her hands, and she wrapped around him, calling his name.
He didn’t wait, just felt her hands as they pulled at his jeans, tugged down his boxers. He was ready for her and he bit off a cry as she touched him.
“Now, Jake, now,” she urged him, looking up at him.
He smiled and slowly he reached down and kissed her, starting with her lips and moving down her neck. She pulled his hips toward her and he entered her, slowly, deliberately. He moved slowly, letting his hands move over her, savoring the feel of her skin underneath him. He could see all of her and he took his time until he could no longer keep himself under control as she moved under him, her hands doing wicked things to him.
He moved faster now and she moved with him, her legs tight around him as she climbed higher and higher. He held her, watched her ride the wave of pleasure and then followed her over the edge until his mind blurred and there was nothing but heat and fire.
Finally, they slowed together, and he found his heart was thudding; he was slicked with sweat as he rode the crest of pleasure down. Her eyes were closed, and there was a relaxed look of pleasure on her face, an air of satisfaction over her whole body. He leaned over her, coming to rest on his side so that he wouldn’t crush her, pulling her in tight to him, locking her in his arms.
Her breathing was ragged, slowly finding its pace.
“That was incredible,” he said.
She made a sound, which he hoped was agreement. He hazarded a glance and saw that the look was still on her face. She shivered.
“Cold?”
“No,” she said, her voice breathy. “Full of the tingles.”
“I’m glad the truck wasn’t a one-time thing. I mean, you caught me by surprise.”
She laughed. “I figured we’d get the sex out of the way so we could enjoy dinner,” she said, then there was a pause. “You did make me dinner?”
“I have something for you to eat,” he said.
“Where’d you order from?”
“Donatellis,” he answered promptly.
“Best clam-chowder pizza ever,” she said.
“I got us chicken Marsala,” he said and waited a moment. “Hungry?”
She moved a little in his arms, and he felt his reaction to her. He wanted her again.
She turned toward him and smiled, then said, “Yes, but not for dinner.”
He drove her home, even though she said she would walk. But he refused. She’d just have to get used him taking care of her, he thought, even if it was only driving her home. He wanted, needed, to know she was okay. She had kissed him goodnight, a long deep, lingering kiss, and he realized that he needed to stop himself from asking her to stay or for him to come in, to sleep on the couch or something silly like that. He couldn’t push it with her, ask too much too soon. He was beginning to see that was what had happened the first time they were together. He had wanted her intensely then, had spun out his dreams of a future. And it had scared her away. So this time, he’d be cool, casual, for as long as he could, until she wasn’t scared anymore. Yup, this time around, he’d play the long game with Colleen McShane.
Chapter 36
“Lovely day,” a voice said.
Ellie jumped. She’d been concentrating, working on some invoices, trying to track down a minor discrepancy, and it was only the sound of Quent’s voice that brought her back to reality. She looked up. Quent was standing in front of her desk, a shy smile on his face.
“It is,” she said and felt herself blushing, forced herself to stop it with a deep, calming breath. She had enjoyed her date with Quent. He had walked her home, kissed her sweetly, and she had gone into her apartment alone. Her legs had been shaky and her stomach jumpy and since then, for the last few days, she had avoided him, even though she had pointed herself in his direction many times.
It wasn’t that she was playing hard to get. She didn’t quite know what to do with the emotions he brought out in her. She was a grown woman. She’d been married for over twenty years. She knew what love and affection was supposed to feel like, and it worried her because Quentin Tate, that big lug of a man, made her feel young and happy again.
“Thank you for the flowers,” she remembered to say. A small but elegant bouquet had arrived for her, just after the boat ride. It had been a thoughtful gesture, and now it stood on her desk.
“Least I could do. Sorry you felt a little queasy afterward.”
She frowned. That had been the one bad part. Part of her shakiness had definitely had something to do with the constant motion of the waves. “I might be a landlubber after all.”
“No worries, there’s plenty of things to do right here on dry land.”
Quent leaned against the high counter that surrounded her domain. She ran the front desk of Colby’s car dealership, and nothing got by her. Her desk, with its counter-height surround, was designed for customers to lean into, to stay and chat, but she could still feel it settle as it absorbed Quent’s solidness. He was wearing a leather jacket that fitted his powerful shoulders and strong arms perfectly. She had yet to touch them, but she desperately wanted to feel those muscles for herself. The thought had her blushing even more.
“You brought your car in for a tune-up,” she said, looking out at the parking lot. A classic Firebird Trans Am, silver with a thin red racing stripe. She decided to take a guess: “1978? Solid American heavy metal.”
“Don’t tell me you like muscle cars?” Quent said. He gave a low whistle and the look he gave her, a mixture of admiration and surprise, had her blushing even more and sent her pulse racing. She doubted he would like to be described as a teddy bear, since he so carefully cultivated a rough image, with his shaved head, bulging muscles, and semi-permanent scowl, but that’s what he seemed to her, a big lug with a heart of gold.
She smiled and said, “I’m more of a roadster type myself. But I enjoy a ride now and then.”
He leaned over the counter and smiled. “Then maybe you’ll let me take you for a ride up the coast one of these evenings. I know a quiet place to have dinner.”
She could see that he was less nervous than the first time he had asked her, but also that the skin around his eyes was tight as if he was worried about what her answer would be. She thought for a moment that it would be good to demure, claim to have to check her schedule, but in fact she wasn’t getting any younger. There had been a damn good reason she’d kept coming back to Quent’s bar when she much preferred the ambiance at the Osprey Arms. His kindness, his attention to her, and the way he had stocked her favorite wine behind the bar just for her had made her feel welcome, comfortable, and important.
She smiled. “I’d love to.”
“Well then it’s a date, luv.”
She still hadn’t quite figured out his accent. Sometimes it had a trace of British to it, or English, Irish, Scottish, she couldn’t tell, but in the next sentence he sounded like an extra from a gangster movie. Colleen had confessed that Quent’s origins were a mystery, and Tory had confirmed that.
He had shown up one day, taken up tending bar at the Ship’s Inn. Within a year, old Dan, the owner, had sold it and retired to Florida, and Quent had turned it into the upscale pub and sports bar where he reigned supreme. No one doubted that he wasn’t quite as authentic as the décor, but no one had the gumption to ask him outright.
“Where were you born?” She decided she had to know.
“What?” Quent asked in surprise.
Eleanor stood up, hands on her hips, looked at him.
“If we’re going out on another date, I want to know something about you. It seems most of our conversations have been about what wine I like to drink and the weather.”
“Fair enough, luv.” He took a deep breath before he continued. “I was born in Queens but moved to Long Island when I was five. My mother’s from Liverpool, and my dad’s from Queens. My grandma, also from Liverpool, lived with us. I got my way of talking and love of all things English from them. Never been married. Came close. No kids, but I have a deadbeat brother with two kids, a boy and a girl, who I’ve taken in from time to time. Both adults now, and are on their own. Mostly. Sometimes I have to go and bail them out of trouble.” He said and looked at her, waiting.
She took a deep breath, and asked one more question.
“How’d you get your money to buy the bar?” She almost didn’t want to know the answer, afraid that if the rumors were true, she wouldn’t care.
He looked at her, puzzled, then laughed. “Have you been listening to those rumors about my supposed past?”
She smiled ruefully. “Some of them might have reached my ears.”
He held out his hands. “I have a degree in restaurant management from Johnson & Wales University. I worked for years in big restaurants and fancy bars. After a while, I decided I wanted something different, something I could call my own. I started to look for a place someone wanted to sell, something that hadn’t been managed right and needed a refresh, a place someone with some professional management experience could make profitable. Took a while, but I finally found my way to Queensbay. I worked with the owner for a while, and when he was ready to retire, bought the bar, took out a loan and renovated. Loan’s fully paid off and I have money in the bank.” He paused for a moment. “Boring enough for you?”
