by Joanne Rock
Lowering himself to the couch cushion beside her, Quinn gave a tight nod. “My mother moved back to Brazil after the divorce. She has a place just outside Rio de Janeiro. I make an effort to call her often, but...”
“But it’s complicated?” she offered, touching his hand softly, then linking their fingers.
His mouth cocked into a jaded smile and he rubbed his thumb along the inside of her wrist. “Families are usually more complicated than they seem, aren’t they? My parents were married for seven years. My father, for lack of a better description, marches to his own drummer. He’s a thrill-seeker, an adrenaline junkie who swept my mother off her feet. He showed up at a bar where she was singing one night after he’d had a close call with a hang glider on a mountain near Rio.”
Giving his hand an encouraging squeeze, she nodded at him. “Your mother sings?”
“Not often anymore, but yes. She has a beautiful voice. The night they met, she thought my dad finally saw the error of his ways and was going to stop taking stupid risks.” Quinn barked out a low laugh. “But that didn’t last long. By the time the rib fractures healed, he was right back to his old tricks. After seven years together, she said she wouldn’t follow him anymore and be complicit in watching him kill himself.”
From her quick internet searches, Sofia had read that Liam McNeill was a reckless adventurer. And from what she could tell about Quinn, he was almost the exact opposite. Quinn’s practical, steady and calculating nature was probably part of what made him such a successful hedge fund manager. His fund set records two years straight for its profit margins. In some ways he reminded her of her own father.
“Your dad didn’t try to change?”
“No. He got a lawyer to divide things up evenly—much to my grandfather’s frustration—and my mother returned to Brazil permanently. My brothers and I split our time between Rio and New York. Six months with Dad, six months with Mom.”
Sofia’s brow rose in surprise. “Do you speak Portuguese?”
“Not as well as I did as a child, but yes. Some Spanish, too. The languages definitely help both my businesses, but I’m not sure I’d recommend raising children on two continents to make it happen.” The genuine regret in his voice gave her a small peek into his upbringing and the things he must have overcome. How hard would it have been to be away from his mother for half the year at such a young age?
She wanted to know more about him. But with him sitting so close and her feelings about him all over the map, she didn’t know how wise it would be to keep up this intimate conversation when their thighs were almost touching.
Plus, he might ask more about her and her own complicated relationship with her wealthy father.
“A man of many talents,” she said, pushing off the couch. “Tea?”
She needed to put some distance between them, even just for a moment, to resurrect some fragile emotional boundaries.
“Please. Thank you, Sofia.”
Her apartment was small and she moved quickly from the couch to the kitchen area. Sofia kept her teakettle on her stove for easy access. Filling the yellow kettle with water, she placed it on the burner, twisting the knob to high.
“So that tango at the gala...your globe-trotting background explains why you moved so beautifully. It’s part of your identity.” Leaning up against the stove, she stared at him, remembering the way his body had kept rhythm with hers.
Apparently going to the kitchen wasn’t going to prevent her from wanting him. He looked far too good in her home.
“Yes. But I always gravitated more toward life with my grandfather, who ended up caring for my brothers and me more than my dad. Gramps was the one that pushed me—and my brothers—toward responsibility and productivity. In some ways, I’m much closer to him than I am to either of my parents.” His expression darkened. No doubt he was worried about the older man.
“I’m sure we’ll hear some news about him soon.” She remembered the fear of wondering if a loved one was going to be okay. There were nearly two months of her life she’d spent waiting and terrified when her mother was sick. For the first time she really thought about the fact that her father hadn’t been much comfort. But then, he was one to lose himself in work—the same way he pushed her to do now and then. Work more. Dance more. Move forward with life and quit worrying about what might be, until sometimes she felt like she was pirouetting so quickly her world was a blur—
The kettle whistled, startling her from her thoughts, and she poured the boiling water into two teacups. They, like the kettle, were flea market finds. Mismatched. But sturdy, full of character. Artistry of a different kind. She plopped the tea diffuser into the cups, the jasmine green tea mixture instantly turning the water a pale, spring green.
As she placed the cups on the fancy serving tray—another mismatched item—she felt his eyes on her. Glancing around her apartment, her cheeks flushed.
What did he think of her and her piecemeal apartment when his life operated at a whole different frequency? She shouldn’t care. And it didn’t matter. But she felt a rush of stiff-necked pride anyhow.
She carried the tea to the sofa, nearly spilling the whole thing when his cell phone rang. The chime seemed to blare through the small space, unnaturally loud. Rushing to settle the tray, she sat beside him as he answered the call.
“Dad.” Quinn sat forward on the couch, his elbows on his knees, all his attention focused on the call.
Sofia wondered if she should give him privacy. But what if he needed her? She moved closer to him in spite of everything. Damn it, she would have wanted someone sitting by her any of those times she’d gotten bad reports about her mom from doctors who didn’t know who else to tell. Her father hadn’t been there, unaware of her sickness since Sofia’s mother hadn’t wanted to tell anyone.
“So that’s encouraging news, right?” Quinn glanced over his shoulder and their gazes collided.
She hoped, for his sake, that his grandfather would make a strong recovery. Quinn listened to his father while Sofia stared at Quinn’s broad back. Even now, she wanted the right to touch him, to be the woman who sat by his side and could loop her arm through his whenever she chose. What madness was this that gave her such strong feelings for him so fast?
Her heart thumped hard as she took a careful sip of the scalding tea and tried not to eavesdrop. But she was so very worried for him.
“You sure you don’t want me to call them?” Quinn was asking. “Thanks, Dad.”
He disconnected the call and set aside the phone, pivoting to look at her.
“It was minor and they are keeping him for two days for observation. Gramps’ doctor in New York is being consulted, because even though it was minor, they want to put a pacemaker in.”
“Can it wait until he comes home?” Arranging for medical care in foreign countries was a challenge. She and her fellow dancers had experienced that more than once in their travels.
“We’ll let his doctor make the call after he reviews the tests from the hospital in Shanghai. But Dad says Gramps looks good.” Quinn looked better, too. Some of the tension seemed to have rolled off his shoulders since he’d walked through her door.
“I’m so glad to hear it.” She set her cup aside and reached for him. She planned to rub his shoulder, maybe. Or squeeze his forearm.
But as she moved toward him, he opened his arms wide and hugged her. Hard.
“Thank you, Sofia.” He stroked her back with his big hands, tucking her against his chest. “I was so damn worried.”
She would have replied, but her cheek rested against his chest, preventing her from speaking. His arms still squeezed her tight. She settled for planting a kiss on his shirt to one side of his tie. His body was warm beneath the fabric. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her ear. Hear how it picked up rhythm. For a moment time stood still as she thought about what that rap
id heartbeat meant. And how the rest of this night might unfold.
He would leave if she asked him to.
She knew without question that how things proceeded from here was her call. But as she edged back to look up at him, she knew she didn’t stand a chance of sending him away. Not when her own heart beat faster and her whole focus had narrowed to him.
He was the only man she’d ever met who could make the rest of her world disappear. And the night before the most important audition of her life, maybe she needed the chance to lose herself in the raw passion only Quinn could give her.
Eleven
He wanted to lose himself in her.
Quinn had tried giving her an out, offering to leave so she could focus on her audition. But she had insisted he stay. And after the hellish worry of the last few hours, he was only too glad to shift gears. All that pent-up, tense energy found an enticing outlet in the irresistible woman beside him.
“Sofia.” He threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her to him.
Everything about her was soft and welcoming, from the cashmere sweater to the creamy-smooth skin beneath. He brushed the backs of his knuckles under the cardigan to trace the edge of her tank top. The slow hiss of her breath between her teeth stirred him, calling him to touch her just the way she wanted. Just the way she needed.
“I’ve missed you.” He’d thought about her so often since their last night together. Had it only been two nights ago?
It seemed like two months. He’d wanted her in his bed every moment since.
“I thought I dreamed how good this felt.” She kissed the words into his cheek as she undid the buttons beneath his tie.
Quinn tugged at the knot, wanting all the barriers between them gone. He’d taken off his jacket earlier. Now he cursed French cuffs to the skies and back as he undid one and Sofia unfastened the other.
“It was no dream.” He tore the shirt off, tossing it on a slipper chair nearby. “I was there, remember? It was better than anything I could have imagined.”
“For me, too.” She studied his exposed chest. Her gaze hot and admiring, but he wanted her hands all over.
Closing the distance between them, he lifted her against him, startling a squeak of surprise from her while she wrapped her arms around his neck and—much to his pleasure—her legs around his waist.
“Bedroom.” He gripped her splayed thighs, cradling them at hip level as he started walking toward a hallway in the back. Her vanilla and floral scent teased his nostrils, bringing back heady memories of things they’d done that night after the welcome reception.
He hadn’t wanted to shower the next day, but wanted to savor her fragrance on his skin.
“On the right,” she murmured between kisses, her teeth raking gently down his neck. “Hurry.”
Her hands smoothed over his back and shoulders, feeling everywhere she could reach. As she moved, her hair stroked his chest, a tantalizing brush of silk each time. She reached to flick a light switch dimmer as they entered the hallway, casting a warm glow where he’d bared one shoulder.
Black cashmere falling away, he nudged aside the tank top strap with his teeth.
“You taste so good.” Selfishly, he wanted to keep her up all night, tasting her and tempting her, driving her to that precipice again and again.
But he knew she needed her rest for the audition. This time together had to be enough for tonight.
“You can tell from just one bite?” she teased in a whisper, the hint of her passionate nature setting him on fire.
“I’m hoping like hell I can confirm the facts.” He turned them sideways to edge through a partially open door and into her bedroom.
A very white bedroom. A single bedside reading lamp illuminated a high, four-poster painted white with hints of gray details around the carved woodwork and an eggshell-colored duvet atop floor-length pale linens. An antique chandelier hung over the bed. Even in the dim light from the bedside, the glass prisms cast small rainbows around the room. Behind the bed, there was a triangular bookcase instead of a headboard, hundreds of leather-bound volumes adding the room’s only color.
Quinn set her in the center of the bed, hating to let go of her, but giving himself a moment to unfasten his belt and step out of his shoes. Sofia watched him, rolling one shoulder and then the other out of her sweater until she was down to her pink tank top and pajama pants. When her eyes lowered to where he unzipped his pants, his blood rushed south, turning him to steel.
It made the unzipping an effort, but seemed to inspire Sofia to sidle out of the cotton spandex, revealing that she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath her shirt. At the sight of her pink-tipped breasts, he forgot about his pants and dived onto the bed with her, drawing her down into the thick duvet with him.
Her moment of laughter turned to a gasp of pleasure as he fastened his mouth around one taut peak, drawing her in for a thorough exploration. She twisted beneath him, her hips seeking his. No woman had ever lit him up as fast as she did, heat blistering across his back, and they weren’t even naked yet.
Hands raking off the rest of her clothes—the lounge pants and bikini panties—he traced the muscles of her bare calves and thighs, hugging her legs to his chest as he worked his way back up her body. He kissed a path along her hips, relishing the growing warmth in her skin and liking that he’d put it there.
Heart hammering, he ignored his own needs to focus on hers. Parting her thighs to make room for himself there, he kissed her deeply. Thoroughly. Listened to every sigh and hitch in her breath to learn what she liked best as he stroked her over and over with his tongue.
He brought her close to release twice, feeling her body go taut and still. Both times he backed off, not ready to finish. If this was his only time to be with her tonight, he wanted her fully sated. Boneless with the pleasure he gave her. But the third time she tensed, her fingers gripping his shoulders, he took her the rest of the way, helping her savor every last sweet thrill until she collapsed beneath him.
Elbowing his way higher on the bed, he undressed the rest of the way while she caught her breath. He retrieved a condom from his wallet before he tossed aside his pants, placing it on the bed nearby. When he was done, he moved to cradle her against him so he could stroke her hair while she recovered. He wasn’t expecting her to rise up from the bed like some kind of pagan goddess and straddle him, but she did just that, arching her eyebrows at him as though she was daring him to object.
As if he ever would.
“You’re beautiful,” he told her simply, watching her as she positioned herself above him.
She bent low to kiss him and retrieved the condom. She unwrapped it and rolled it into place, her touch tempting him far too much. He took deep breaths. Steadied himself.
Damn, but he wanted her. Now.
When she lowered herself on him, he ground his teeth together to hang on to the moment. And when she started to move, her beautiful body a tantalizing gift, he knew that moment would be seared on the backs of his eyelids forever. She gave him this and so much more tonight.
His body roaring with a new fire, he had no choice but to roll her to her back and hold her there for a long moment. Pulling himself together, he steeled his body for the incredible sensual onslaught of this woman.
After a long pause he kissed her, thrusting deep inside her. She surrounded him with her softness and her scent, her arms winding around his neck, her feminine muscles clamping him tight. Sweet sighs turned to needy cries as he increased the pace, but she met every thrust, driving him higher.
By the time the heat in his blood reached a fever pitch, he’d brought Sofia to that heady precipice again, her body tensing under his. Sweat beading on his brow, he drove inside her once more, propelling them both over the edge.
Breath, limbs and shouts tangling, they held on tight to one an
other while the pleasure swelled and spent itself. They lay there, heartbeats syncing as they slowed.
Quinn pulled a corner of the duvet over her, covering her pale limbs with the white, downy spread. Her blond hair danced along her jaw as the air shifted around her from the movement of the blanket.
She lay her cheek on his chest and he had a sudden pang at the realization that it all felt too damn right. After the way she’d welcomed him, her care for him extending to his family when she’d urged him to stay until his father called, Quinn couldn’t pretend this arrangement of theirs was strictly for show. Something had shifted between them and it was a whole lot more than sex.
He didn’t know what it was. But he’d dated women for months without feeling the kind of connection he had to Sofia after a week together. And with his grandfather’s health on the line now—because, damn it, the heart attack had scared the hell out of him—Quinn couldn’t ignore the idea that had been rolling around his head to cement their relationship.
Too bad she’d already told him that marrying for show was a bad idea. He still didn’t understand how that was so much worse than a fake engagement, but he knew where she stood in regard to a fake marriage.
But what if it was for his grandfather’s sake?
“I can almost hear you thinking,” she said, peering up at him from her spot on his chest, her hair a tousled, sexy mess. “Everything okay?”
Quinn could fulfill the terms of the will and keep her by his side in one move. And maybe help her focus on her career instead of all the drama surrounding her demanding job. It would be good for both of them.
“I have an idea.” Shifting her in his arms, he raised them to a sitting position, lifting a pillow behind her back. “And I want you to hear me out.”
“I’m ready.” She practically glowed from their lovemaking, so it was probably as good a time as any to pitch his idea.
“That night Cameron proposed to you, we were so focused on damage control that we never really talked about why he was in such a hurry to find a wife.”
