Rekindled Magic

by T. M. Cromer

Quentin checked into the swanky hotel Alastair had selected, with minimal fuss. Once in his room, an odd restlessness took him. Being half a world away from Holly made his skin itch. The desire to return to her was stronger than any he’d ever experienced. And because this was so, he plunked down on the floor, crossed his legs under him, and started a deep meditation. Started being the key word. The insistent knocking on his door destroyed his Zen.

  When it became obvious the interrupting asshat wasn’t going away, he growled low in his throat and rose. He jerked open the door and came up short.

  Holly.

  His body’s reaction was immediate. Hot, then cold, swept over him. His need to reach for her took every ounce of restraint he could manage and more. “What are you doing here? I told you to stay home.”

  “I’m not a dog to be ordered about,” she returned sassily and slipped under the arm holding the door. “We need to set up a plan of attack.”

  “My plans don’t include you,” he snapped as he slammed the door. How the hell was he expected to seduce Selene into giving him access to the vault with Holly lurking about? He’d never be able to concentrate on the mission at hand.

  “They do now.”

  As pretty as you please, she perched on the edge of the white bed. And man, didn’t she look magnificent sitting there? The strappy, flowing sundress showed off her lightly tanned skin to perfection. The pale pink set off her hair and added a glow to her skin. But it was her eyes, lighter than they’d been in years and focused on him with a purpose only she knew, that really drew him.

  “I can’t have you here, Holly. You should go.”

  “Why? Because you are supposed to make Slutty Selene fall in love with you?” She waved a hand in dismissal and crossed her legs. “We aren’t going that route. I’ve come up with a new scheme.”

  The easy assumption that he would fall in with whatever she planned set him off. Quentin stalked to where she sat and squatted to be eye level. “You have? Let me tell you a little fact, sweetheart. You no longer factor into what I do or don’t do. I told your father, this one last thing, and I’m out of your life for good.”

  Try as she might, her brave face didn’t disguise her hurt. The trembling lips knotted his guts.

  “I understand.” Ducking her head, she avoided looking at him.

  “Do you? Because I don’t think you do, Hol.” He gripped her chin and forced her gaze to meet his. “I’m sick to death of loving you. If I could cut you from my heart and soul, I’d do it in a second. Showing up here is cruel and full-on bullshit.”

  When her lips tightened to a straight line and tears flooded her large eyes, Quentin felt like the biggest dickhead. He desperately wanted to call back his words, but doing so would throw the two of them back into the same old holding pattern where he followed her around like a faithful dog awaiting every scrap of attention.

  “You don’t want me anymore?”

  What kind of stupid-ass question was that? Of course he wanted her. He’d go to his grave wanting her. But he was soul weary. “I can’t do this anymore, Hol. I can’t.”

  “I made a mistake. I believed Michelle. I believed she was my best friend. But she wasn’t. You were. You were the one I should’ve believed, Quentin.”

  “Yes.” He rose and held out a hand. “Go home, Holly. I’ll bring you the scroll when I’m done.”

  “I’m not going. If I have to be your shadow, the way you were mine, I’ll do it. You’ve loved me for a large chunk of our lives. The same amount of time that I loved you. You never gave up in all those years, and I’m not giving up now.”

  The lift of her chin, the determined gleam, and the thrown back shoulders all spoke of her resolution. Inside, he applauded her gumption. As he stared down at her, his bottomless optimism got the better of him. “You’re not?”

  “No.” She placed a palm flat over his heart. “Never.”

  Her declaration of love sparked an answering vow within him—a recommitment of sorts. He’d give in. There wasn’t even a question of walking away now that she’d declared her love for him. But a kernel of an idea took hold. Maybe if she had to work for his love for a change, she’d appreciate it all the more when he finally relented. “Not even if I seduce Selene?”

  Her fingers curled into a ball against his chest, and fire flashed in her eyes. “You are not seducing Selene or any other woman ever again.”

  “What do you plan to do to stop it?” Quentin couldn’t curb the mocking twist of his lips.

  “Whatever I have to.” Her hand dropped to the waistband of his jeans.

  The blood rushed from his head straight to his groin. Calling on every ounce of willpower he possessed, he removed Holly’s hand and turned away. If he intended to make her work for it, caving at her first provocative statement was the wrong way to go about it. He’d almost reached the door when the rustle of clothing penetrated his brain.

  Closing his eyes against the image of a naked Holly, Quentin inhaled deeply. He’d forgotten how forward she could be when she wanted to be.

  “Quentin.”

  The husky come-hither quality to her voice slayed him. He wanted nothing more than to scoop her up and bury himself so deeply inside her that he felt tomorrow. All their tomorrows. But sex between them would resolve nothing other than to ease his horniness.

  “I have things to see to, Holly.” He placed his hand on the door and faced her. The sight of her nakedness caused the skin on his entire body to tingle with want. With supreme effort, he tore his eyes away from her curvaceous figure and settled his gaze on her face. “You should go.”

  Disbelief, hurt, despair, and anger all warred for dominance on her countenance. “You’re rejecting me?”

  How did he answer? If he said yes, it would add to their problems. But wasn’t he saying no in a way? “Not you, love. Your advances.”

  With a swirl of her hands, clothing once more covered her luscious body. He wanted to weep.

  “It’s the same thing,” she snapped as she moved to pass him.

  His hand shot out and gripped her upper arm to spin her back. “No, Holly, it’s not. But you’ve rejected me for nine years. You don’t get to remove your clothes and make everything all right.”

  “Is this payback?”

  “Goodfuckingchrist!” The expletive was out before he could stop it. “How is it you can be so damned smart and yet completely oblivious at the same time?”

  Angry color flooded her face. “Screw you, Quentin.”

  With a grip on both arms, he hauled her closer until their noses were practically touching and she stood on the tips of her toes. “Don’t! Just don’t. You have absolutely no right to be angry. Not one!” He gave her a light shake. “I, on the other hand, do. You constantly blew off my explanation of the encounter with Michelle. You went running into the first available arms. You refused to believe me when I said Beau was dangerous. You ignored my warning time and again. That was all in the first two years.” He released her and shook his head. “The seven years that followed? Yeah, they were a picnic chasing you, trying to get you to see reason. Hoping like hell you’d forgive the imagined slights. Do you know how many pitying looks I received during those years? Do you?” he seethed. “I counted. From your family alone this last year, there were sixty-seven. They could all see what you and I could not. One, that I loved you, and two, that you didn’t care if I lived or died as long as I was out of your hair.”

  Pale-faced, she shook her head. “I care. I’ve always cared.” Her lips trembled, and she pressed them together to stop the movement.

  “You sure fooled me.”

  “I’ve already apologized, Quentin,” she croaked. “If I could change things, I would. But I want to move forward. With you.”

  Anger faded, and his heart ached at her sincerity. “As laughable as it sounds, I need time, Hol. We both do. Go back home. I’ll return when I’ve finished here.”

  “You won’t.”

  “I will.”

  “You told my fath
er you were done.” She came forward and placed her hands on either side of his face. “I couldn’t stand it if we were.”

  Closing his eyes, he turned his face to plant a kiss on her palm. “Do you love me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you need to learn to trust me, my prickly pear. We will never work otherwise.”

  Chapter 8

  Holly sat on her bed later that evening and berated herself. She should never have walked out of Quentin’s room. She should have stayed and made him understand that she wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  She touched the tanzanite stone around her neck. “Dad?”

  “I’m here.”

  “How did you and mother work through your differences? How did you know not to give up?”

  “True love doesn’t allow you to give up, child. You may feel like you’ve barely survived a tornado, all battered and bruised with your world in shambles around you, but you dig deep for that inner strength. You rebuild a love stronger than the one that was there before.”

  “He sent me away.”

  “Give him time.”

  “He’s furious. I had no idea how much.”

  “Ask yourself how you would feel. Would you be willing to forgive and forget if the situation was reversed? What if he had humiliated you time and again?”

  “I didn’t do that!”

  “Didn’t you?” After a long pause where Holly imagined she heard her father’s sigh, he said, “You may not have done it consciously, but you did it all the same. You were making him pay for a betrayal that never happened.”

  Is that how they all saw it? That she’d been such a horrible person? No wonder Quentin wanted nothing more to do with her and her own father had been ready to walk away.

  “I can hear your thoughts, child. I can’t speak for Quentin, but I never saw you as such. I was ready to walk away for your happiness, not my own.”

  “Goddess, I was such an ungrateful—”

  “Enough! The past is gone. Now you look forward and work toward repairing your relationship. Give him time.”

  “That’s what he said. That he needed time.”

  “Then do him the courtesy of giving him what he asks for, child.”

  “But that would mean leaving, and that’s not going to happen.”

  His deep chuckle resounded in her brain. “I would expect no less from you. You’re your father’s child.”

  “I’m taking that as a good thing, Dad.”

  “You should. Go order the most expensive meal room service has to offer, along with a nice vintage wine, and enjoy yourself for a change. The rest will sort itself out.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, dear girl.”

  “I love you, Dad. I can’t seem to say it enough.”

  “You could say it fifty times a day, and I would hold each and every declaration close to my heart.”

  “Dang! No wonder you get all the women. That was poetry, pops!”

  His bark of laughter made her smile.

  “Goodnight, dear.”

  “Goodnight, Dad.”

  “Oh, and Holly?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you, too.”

  She felt the second their mental connection was broken, but still, she would carry the warmth of their conversation through the remainder of the day. It reminded her of the times when she’d been a small child. Her father had always been there with open arms, ready to pick her up when she fell down. Why hadn’t she remembered that before now? Why had she let hurt and anger become the cornerstone of their relationship?

  Now, their relationship was on its way to being repaired. For that, she was grateful.

  One down, one more to go.

  Her phone lit up with a text from Quentin. “Want to join me for dinner tonight?”

  She smiled and tapped out an affirmative reply.

  The screen brightened again. “Wear a pretty dress and be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  Holly was ready in seven. The remaining eight minutes were spent in an agony of nerves. Somehow, she had to force Quentin to see she was serious about making a go of things. Make him see she’d always loved him even if her actions stated otherwise. The thought of him leaving—that he might be through with the whole tangled mess—made her heart ache in a way she hadn’t allowed for years. Until now, she’d closed her emotions off. Allowing even a smidgen of her feelings for him inside had been too painful.

  A knock sounded on the connecting door. Quentin stood dressed in black slacks and a white button-down shirt. He’d left his long, dark hair loose. Although Quentin wore modern clothing, Holly was reminded of the pirates of old with their flowing shirts and devil-may-care attitudes.

  His gaze was bold as he took in her appearance. The appreciative look in his eyes warmed her and chased away the bulk of her misgivings. When their gazes connected, her breath caught in her chest.

  “As always, you’re stunning.” His husky baritone reached right in and set fire to Holly’s woman cave.

  “As always, your own beauty is god-like.”

  His grin flashed, and he stepped over the threshold to her room. He didn’t stop until his chest was pressed to hers. “Is that right?”

  “You know it is. You possess a mirror.”

  He raised a brow but remained quiet and watchful.

  “I guess that was snarky.” She sighed and placed the flat of her palm over his heart. “I didn’t mean it to be. I guess it’s harder to erase habits than I thought.”

  Quentin covered her hand with his, then raised it to place a kiss on her fingertips. “I know. But I need to get used to this new Holly.”

  “I’ve been horrible to you for too long, Quentin. I’m more sorry than I can say.”

  “I know that, too, Hol. You don’t need to say it again.”

  “But I do. I’ve been swimming in an ocean of lies for such a long time; I didn’t always know what was true or false. Never once did I recognize that you were my life preserver; right there in front of me the whole time, waiting for me to grab hold.” She caught back the emotion threatening to erupt. “You always kept me safe in spite of myself and my ridiculous temper.”

  “I love you, Holly Thorne. I will love you until my dying day. But we need to establish a bridge of trust between us.”

  “You want to be with me?” She hated the hesitation and insecurity in her own voice.

  “More than I want to breathe, my prickly pear.” Quentin lowered his head until his lips were a hairsbreadth away from hers. “You have always been the beacon of light in my dark sky.”

  His kiss, when it came, chased all thought from her head and curled her toes—just as it always had. Holly sagged into Quentin and inched her hands up around his neck. When his arms encircled her, she sighed her contentment. This was right. This was exactly where she needed to be and who she needed to be with.

  He drew back with one last lingering kiss. “Let’s talk more over dinner.”

  “Okay. But I think you should know, I’m not leaving you to do this alone. I’m going to help retrieve the scroll.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  Without warning, her humor took hold and a smirk forced its way onto her lips. “I bet I can still surprise you.”

  He mock shuddered. “The prospect is terrifying.”

  They shared a long, meaningful look. For the first time in forever, Holly felt a sense of rightness.

  “I trust you, Quentin.”

  A pained expression came and went over his face.

  “What?”

  “I’m not sure I trust you, Hol.”

  She winced even as he said it. Bile rose in the back of her throat, and all her old insecurities came back to haunt her. Was she that difficult?

  “I can already see you’ve taken my words the wrong way.” He sighed and tilted up her chin. “I should say, I don’t trust in your trust.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” She promptly sneezed and released a relieved sigh
when he clenched his fist. He always anticipated her affliction and counteracted her curse.

  “I don’t trust that when the chips are down, you won’t find a reason to believe the worst of me again. That you won’t take someone else’s word against mine.”

  “Well, believe it,” she snapped.

  His lips twitched as his eyes lit with merriment.

  “And don’t you dare laugh at me!”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. The Thorne temper is a scary sight to behold. I certainly wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end.”

  “Oh, shut it.” She grabbed her purse from the table by the couch. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  “Pfft. As if!”

  He halted their progress toward the door. “Care to explain that?”

  “My wish was to do the dirty earlier. That didn’t get me anywhere.”

  Quentin burst out laughing.

  Holly wanted the floor to open and swallow her whole. Where was her sister Spring’s ability to part the earth when she needed it? And why the hell had she confessed to being irritated that he hadn’t accepted her advances?

  All the way to the lobby, Holly fumed and wondered why she’d suddenly become filterless. Mere days ago, she wouldn’t have dreamed of confessing to wanting him. On the other hand, before Quentin lay recovering on her couch, she didn’t have all the facts. The knowledge that he’d saved her made the difference. Now she knew exactly to what extreme he would go for her.

  A shiver traveled the length of her spine.

  “You okay?” Ever attentive, Quentin had picked up on her body’s reaction to her own thoughts.

  “I was thinking about our conversation the other day in my living room.”

  He nodded as if he understood exactly to which conversation she referred. “Now you fear me?”

  She jerked to a halt. “What? No!”

  His gaze bore into her, seeking the truth. Finally, relief settled on his features, and he nodded.

  “Quentin, you can’t possibly believe I would ever fear you. You’ve been there for me every step of the way.”

  “I worried that if you found out the truth, you would view me differently.”