by Vonnie Davis
Cassie backed farther into the metal of the Jeep as if she could absorb some of its steely strength because her legs were quickly turning to jelly. All these years, she’d jokingly called him hot lips, but she’d had no clue. Dear God in heaven. This is better than I ever dreamed.
His tongue brushed across the seam of her lips twice. “Open for me, angel.” His deep voice sent sensations up her spine like the stroke of a lover’s hand.
She did and his tongue swept in to lay claim, as if she hadn’t always been his. He tasted of beer and lime and sexual potency. Her arms wrapped around his neck and he stepped closer until their thighs touched, the heat from him nearly frying her brain cells.
His lips left hers and moved across her cheek to her jaw, where he kissed, bit and soothed with his tongue. Warm lips trailed down her neck, sucking, pulling moans from her throat. “When I saw you with that other guy, I nearly went insane. I wanted to get twenty kinds of possessive, no matter what I told you earlier. You’ve got me so freakin’ tied up in knots I can’t think straight. All I know is, at this moment, I want to mark you like some wild beast so no male will ever approach you again.”
“Yes, Quinn!”
As if her exclamation had carried a bucket of ice water, he broke contact and his hands lifted in a stop gesture. He stepped back and shook his head. “I did not say that.”
Her heart beat so fast, she could barely breathe. “Yes…yes, you did.” No way was she going to allow him to recant those words. She’d been waiting for three long years to hear them.
“This,” he motioned with two fingers from him to her and back again, “is not happening. I’m not…we’re not…” He spun and inhaled loudly as if to purge something from his body. “Fuck.”
She grabbed his arm and spun him around. Having two brothers, she knew how to get in a guy’s face. “Why not? Give me one good reason, because this running hot and cold thing you’re doing is driving me nuts.” She jabbed her index finger into his pecs. “One minute you tell me you’re not interested.” Her second finger-jab was harder and his dark eyebrows rose. “Then you show up here and kiss me senseless.” A firmer finger-jab made Quinn grunt. “The next minute you’re pushing me away again.” She curled her fingers into a fist and bumped his pecs—and God knew how she loved them. “You know what, Quinn Gallagher? I think, when it comes to me, you’re chicken shit.”
He grabbed her fist and wrenched her hand behind her. “Damn you, Cassie.” His other hand fisted in her hair, jerking her head back. “Stop pushing me.” His handsome face morphed into a mask of dark scowls. “Can’t you get it through that pretty head I don’t want more than friendship from you?” He leaned his forehead against hers. “God sakes, don’t do this to me. To yourself. I adore you,” he exhaled a ragged breath, “but as a friend, a jogging buddy, someone to hang out with.” He stepped back. “Nothing more.”
She took in his tortured expression. Which one of them was in denial here? What the hell was his problem? Her arms wrapped around her waist as if to shield herself from any more emotional blows. She knew what her problem was. It was loving six-foot-three of finely corded muscle with zero capacity for deep emotion. “You can put away your spear now. You’ve wounded me twice in one evening with the truth according to Quinn Gallagher. I can’t take anymore. I’d ask what you’re doing here, why you aren’t at the station, but what the hell does it matter?”
He slid fingertips into the front pockets of his faded jeans, the muscles of his shoulders and arms shifting under the cotton material of his shirt. “I took some personal time. I need to apologize for the things I said to you. I hurt you and I’m sorry. It was all uncalled for.”
“Wolf made you come, didn’t he?” This had her brother’s imprint all over it. He’d been doting on her since the fire that took their parents’ lives. Tears burned the back of her throat and pricked her eyes. “So you took off work to ease tensions with your jogging partner. My feelings as a woman meant nothing.” She could play the guilt card with him. Hadn’t Misty told her to make him feel like an ass for hurting her? A car pulled into the parking lot, drawing her attention for a beat before she looked at his tense face again. No, playing emotional games was never her thing. “Look, it’s obvious I can’t hide the way I feel about you. Maybe it’s best if we stay away from each other.”
“Cassie.” There was a deep strain in his voice.
Twin tears spilled over and tumbled down her cheeks. “You can’t have it both ways. You can’t keep me around for a buddy and then reject my feelings.” She tugged her cell from her purse and scrolled through her contacts. “I’m calling a taxi to take me home. Go on back to the station.” A hot bath, comfy sleep clothes, a quart of chocolate brownie ice cream and a few hours of crying and maybe…maybe she could make it through the night.
Quinn unlocked the door. “Get in. We’re not done talking. When we are, I’ll take you home.”
She couldn’t endure one more minute with him, not when she knew how he really felt about her.
“No. We’re done. Have a good life, Quinn.” She’d made two steps before his arm banded around her waist and lifted her.
“I said we’re not through talking, dammit. Now, get your sweet ass in my Jeep.” He plopped her on the seat and buckled her in. “If you want me out of your life, my friend, fine. But before I walk away, I have some things to teach you.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “You don’t have a damn thing to teach me. Although I am a little intrigued how you knew about hot wax play. Isn’t that some BDSM shit? Beyond that, we have nothing to discuss.”
He shrugged. “We watch the occasional movie at the station.”
She glared at Quinn, sauntering in front of his vehicle. So he enjoyed watching dirty movies. What guy didn’t? Was that what made him disinterested? Her innocence? She glared out the passenger window and swiped at a tear. Hell, the closest thing she knew to sex games was Spin the Bottle—and if that wasn’t damn pathetic, what was?
He settled behind the steering wheel and clicked his seatbelt. “How about a walk on the beach?”
“How about you telling me why I don’t do it for you?”
“Peanut.” His voice was almost a moan of remorse.
“Don’t you peanut me. Am I so ugly, so immature, so annoying?” She lifted her open hands in a helpless gesture. “What? I’m good enough to hang out with, to jog with, to go see a movie with, but not date. Why? You’ve already humiliated me today, so fess up. Tell me why the thought of our being a romantic couple makes you want to throw up.”
He started the engine and shoved the Jeep into reverse. “I never said that. You’re overreacting.”
She punched him. Once, twice, three times in the arm. “Overreacting? After all you’ve put me through today? You arrogant asshole.” She slapped his arm again and shifted in her seat so her back was toward him. Good god, what a day.
“Would you settle down?” He pulled onto route 60 and sped toward Clearwater Beach. Since he had the top off his Wrangler, the cool evening air blew over them. Cassie wrapped her black knit shawl tighter around her shoulders. Both were silent, the tension between them hanging thicker than early morning fog off the gulf. He hung a left onto South Gulfview Boulevard and zipped into the parking lot at Mossie’s Island Grill.
“You’re favorite place. Have you eaten, pea…Cassie?” He undid his seatbelt and shifted in his seat.
“Not hungry.”
“Well, I am. Come on. Let’s get something. You know you love Mossie’s food.”
I’ll never be able to come here again. How often have we come here together?
After placing an order to go, the two of them removed their shoes, locking them in the wheel hub along with her purse. Spending time with him alone on a darkened, deserted beach would have been a dream come true a day or so ago. Now, it was merely another nail hammered into the coffin of her dreams. How many ways could he tell her goodbye?
He removed a blanket from the back of the Jeep and pas
sed it to her before he shrugged into a jean jacket he discovered jammed under some tools. She followed him toward the beach while he carried the bag of food and a six-pack. Gone was their usual jovial rapport. An uncomfortable silence settled over them, and she wished she were home where she could fall apart in solitude.
“How’s your soft crab sandwich?” Quinn shoved a curly fry into his mouth.
Is that what she was eating? Her taste buds were suffering from a broken heart, too, if such a pitiful thing were possible. “It’s okay.” She drained her second beer and reached for a third.
His warm hand covered hers. “Go easy on that stuff.”
She popped the top and guzzled, not because she was thirsty, but because she was through taking orders from anyone.
Quinn crumpled the empty French fry bag and shoved it into their take-out tote. His arms angled over his raised knees. “Look, I know you’re pissed, but you need someone to teach you a few things.”
The can of Coors stilled near her lips. “Oh, really? I suppose you are the fountain of feminine knowledge.” She finished off the beer. Between the greasy fries and three beers, her stomach had expanded to the size of Eagle Lake.
“I know enough not to take a drink of anything I’ve walked away from to use the restroom or dance. Someone could easily slip in a date rape drug. Remember that.”
She nodded and belched. “Got it. Quinn is afraid of being raped.”
He grabbed her shoulders and pressed her down on the blanket. “You think this is funny?” His breath skimmed her face. “If you’re not more aware of your surroundings, one day you’re going to wake up in a strange place, naked, sore and bleeding from the rectum. You won’t know who or how many men have had you…or in what ways.”
How dare he? “I’m not that kind of person.” Her stomach rolled in time with the waves.
He tossed his hat aside and his eyes widened in the moonlight. “Are you that naïve? The drug will render you powerless. Read up on it. You dress in scanty I’m-yours-for-the-taking clothes and sashay into a bar? No wonder guys come flocking over. Hell, you’re a damn attractive woman, Cassie.”
“Just not attractive enough for you.”
“Don’t you get it? Our problem isn’t with you. It’s with me.”
She pushed him aside and sat. The shoreline seemed to tilt for a few seconds. She glanced at Quinn over her shoulder. “Are you gay?”
“Hell no, I’m not gay.”
“Oh yeah? Show me.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Oh no, little one. I’m not falling for that challenge.”
“And I’m not begging anymore. I’m through.” Her pride could only take so much trampling. She stood and bent to gather their trash. It took three tries to grab an empty beer can. Damn thing kept moving. “Take me home, Quinn. My ego can’t survive another beating.”
He stood and reached for her. “Peanut.”
“I’m finished. I love you, but I have to love myself more.” She hurried to one of the nearby beach trash receptacles and tossed everything away, including her hopes and dreams. Quinn wasn’t far behind as she trudged through the sand toward his Wrangler. She’d lost everything.
First her parents. Then, not long ago, her beauty shop had burned to the ground a mere ten days after the grand opening. Until renovations were complete in the little strip mall where her business once stood, she was working part-time at a national chain of salons in a larger, more modern shopping mall. Now, Quinn had made it all too clear they could never have a romantic relationship. She’d made such a fool of herself, mooning over him at the station, she couldn’t step foot in there again.
The world spun for a few seconds, and she wrapped her arms around the trunk of a palm tree to keep from sliding off the planet. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead and neck. She swallowed convulsively.
“Cassie?” Quinn’s hands were at her waist. “What’s wrong?”
She leaned over and vomited until everything she’d eaten and drank in the last day, or maybe the past week, was purged from her stomach. Quinn scooped her into his arms and ran with her to his Wrangler.
CHAPTER FOUR
Quinn thumbed Wolf’s number on his cell. “Did I wake you?”
“No. Watching a flick with the guys. Did you find my sister?”
“I’ve got her in the Jeep with me. She got sick and passed out. You want to call Becca and tell her I’m on my way with Cassie?”
“What did you do? Get her drunk?”
Quinn snorted. “Hell, she did that her damn self.” He ended the call before Wolf could fire off more questions.
The lights were on at Becca’s townhouse and the front door hung open. Einstein, her German shepherd, barked from the yard where she walked him. Quinn crouched, bracing himself. “Hey, buddy!” Einstein barreled toward him, his large paws making contact with Quinn’s shoulders and pushing him against the front tire of his vehicle. A wet tongue slurped across his face. “Yeah, I like you, too.” He stood and the dog sat at his feet, panting.
“Is she still asleep?” Becca leaned to capture Einstein’s leash.
“I think it’s more a matter of being passed out than asleep. She was doing shots. Then we ate some greasy food at Mossie’s and she guzzled a few beers.”
Becca’s lips pursed and she forked her fingers in her red hair. “Wolf’s going to give her such a lecture. You know how protective he is where his family’s concerned.”
Boy, did he ever. His neck still throbbed at times. “I’ll run interference on that as best I can.” He glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping form slumped in the passenger seat. The street light in front of his vehicle created a yellow glare over Cassie’s pretty face. “I said a lot of things to hurt her.”
Wolf’s fiancée stepped toward him. “Why? Why do you hold her at arm’s length when it’s obvious you care for her?”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t.” Maybe if he told this damn lie enough he’d start to believe it himself. “Hell, Becca, she’s just a friend. We hang out. Nothing more.”
Einstein whined and Becca bent to scratch his neck. “Who was she?” The redhead straightened and stared him straight in the eyes. “Who was the woman in your past who hurt you so badly you’re afraid to care again, to love again?” Her head tilted to the side as if waiting for a name, an explanation. “Because I’m not buying the load of bull you’re trying to shovel on everyone.”
Quinn forced a chuckle. “You interviewing me for that blog of yours or your newspaper column?” Becca wrote a popular and sometimes snarky blog entitled “The Things Men Do.” She’d used it as a stepping stone to getting her own column in the local newspaper.
She glanced down the street, the corners of her mouth slightly upturned. Her open hand gave a dismissive wave. “You forget. I was once in your place. Scarred and scared and determined to outrun Wolf.” She shot him a quick glance. “It won’t happen, you know. Once one of those Wolfords set his or her sights on someone, that person doesn’t stand a chance. I think it’s a family trait.”
“Didn’t take him long to capture you.” Less than two months after moving into the townhouse next door, Wolf had a diamond on Becca’s finger. He’d storm-crashed through the walls she’d erected around her heart after her ex-husband left her a year earlier.
No one, including the woman in front of him, could understand why Quinn lived behind an emotional fortress. After the cluster-fuck of his mission in Chile, he’d encased his warped heart in cold, hard lead. Renata’s betrayal, the ensuing loss of four members of his team and the damage to his reputation with the agency had pretty much corroded the hell out of his soul. Putting a bullet between Renata’s scheming eyes had further twisted him so severely inside, he wasn’t fit for anyone, much less someone as sweet as Cassie. She was sunshine to his darkness, emotional openness to his secrets, purity to his evil. Yet, damn if he wouldn’t give his right nut for things to be different. Yeah, crap into your ball cap and wish, Gallagher, and all you’re gonna have is a hat
ful of shit.
He exhaled a long sigh, pushing his dark thoughts to the dank recesses of his mind. “Where do you want me to put Cassie? I need to get back to the station.” He had a long night of thinking and planning ahead of him. Before he’d let Cassie leave her family, he’d resign from the fire and rescue station and head for parts unknown—or home. His stomach cramped at that thought. Wouldn’t his old man just shit a brick if he returned to the Truman Building, near the White House, or back to the Pentagon, across from Arlington?
“In the guest bedroom upstairs.” Becca pivoted and pointed toward her front door. “Ah…there’s ibuprofen in the upper cabinet to the left of the kitchen sink, if you can get her to take them. Otherwise she’s going to have a terrible headache in the morning. Bottled water’s in the refrigerator. If you think you can handle Cassie by yourself, I’ll take Einstein for his walk before bedtime.”
“Sure. No problem.” If Becca and the dog left, she’d take her inquiring mind along with her. Damn if she didn’t read him too well.
“Put Cassie in the blue bedroom at the top of the stairs and close the door behind you.” She patted her pocket. “I’ve got my key.”
“Okay, will do.” He circled the front of the Wrangler and unlocked the door to lift Cassie out. Before he did, he unlocked the glove box and retrieved her birthday gift, shoving it into the interior pocket of his jean jacket. After snatching her purse, he slung his unconscious passenger over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Gentle snoring drifted from her lips and her appealing fragrance of peaches and cream filled his nostrils, as did the stench of vomit and Dustin’s strong aftershave. Jesus, what an unholy combination.
Once inside, he strolled through Becca’s townhouse to her kitchen to retrieve the water and headache medicine. His gaze drifted to a framed cross-stitch picture of Einstein hanging on Becca’s dining room wall. No doubt the crafty person who’d made it was the same individual who’d sewn and framed the fireman’s insignia hanging in his living room. Cassie believed in giving gifts she’d made herself. His arms tightened around her legs, molding her to him. He’d never met anyone as selfless as she.
