Chapter Fourteen
Quinn woke slowly, languishing in the hazy space between dream and reality. The dreams were hard to leave—a low voice rolling over like a velvet caress, a big hand fisted in her hair, strong thighs backstopping hers, and the slap of skin on skin so loud, it still echoed in her ears, along with a strangely familiar hum. Just dreams?
Reality beckoned, each trace registering like a separate clue. Carelessly drawn drapes filtered soft light into her mahogany and whitewashed bedroom. Her outflung arm rested over a warm, yet vacant side of the bed. A side she had a fuzzy memory of lying half out of at one point last night, palms braced on the floor and her hair swinging into her face, obscuring her view of the locally loomed rug while strong hands lifted her hips to various angles to ensure her G-spot got a staggering workout. Speaking of workouts, the barest stretch of her sleep-slackened body set off intimate aches in certain well-used muscles.
The low, familiar hum sounded again and roused her out of her floaty state of grace. This time she placed the sound. Her phone vibrated on the nightstand. Somebody kept trying to call her, and the noise had finally drawn her out of sleep. She leaned over and grabbed the phone. Her mom’s number flashed on the screen, along with the time. Six forty-five in the morning here translated to quarter to four, Pacific time. Alarm bells jangled in her brain, blasting away the last vestiges of lassitude.
“Mom. What’s happened?”
“Have you heard from your brother?”
Her stomach clenched. “No.” Belatedly, she checked her texts. It didn’t change her answer. “Why? What does he need?”
“To be located.”
“Located? I don’t understand. He’s at Foundations—”
“Not anymore. They called last night. He checked out. I thought you chose a reputable facility, Quinn. How could they let him leave?”
Her heart sank under the weight of worry and her mother’s censure. “It’s not court-mandated rehab, Mom.” Yet another mistake on her part? Should she have pressed charges against her own brother, and then begged the judge to order him into a program? “It’s a private, voluntary facility and he’s an adult. They can’t hold him against his will.” Her mind scrambled for traction. “Who’d he check out with? Did someone pick them up? Does he have any money?”
“They can’t tell me if he left with anyone, due to patient confidentiality rules. I don’t know if anyone picked him up. Money? No. And he doesn’t have access to any. He ran through his cash years ago. Your father and I have been in no position to replenish his accounts.”
Sad, but there it was. She pressed fingers to her temple and ordered herself to think. “Okay. All right. Don’t panic. I’ll call Eddie in a couple of hours and see what he can do.” The man hadn’t climbed to the upper echelon of sports and entertainment agents without being extremely resourceful, and well-connected. Plus, if Callum was wheeling around Los Angeles without cash, he might put a call in to his former agent. She hoped she could convince Eddie to take the call, just this once.
“That’s a good idea. Eddie knows people…and he knows Callum.” Her mother already sounded calmer. “He might be able to work some magic.”
“I hope.” She slumped against the pillows and worried her lip for a second, uncertain whether to offer the words tangled in her throat. Guilt pushed them up. “I can’t seem to work any magic where he’s concerned. I really thought he’d stick this time if we all stood firm. I should have listened to you. I’m sorry.”
Silence greeted her apology. One heartbeat. Two. She braced herself for the recriminations which would drop like thunderbolts from the higher moral ground upon which her mother stood.
Instead she got a long, weary sigh. “No, Quinn. I’m sorry. Last night when I spoke to the counselor managing your brother’s program, he pointed out that Callum’s request for me to arrange his transfer to Paradise Bay amounted to an attempt to spread responsibility for his failure to complete his program to me. He manipulates me very well because I’m susceptible. I take it personally when he fails, and I feel like a terrible parent. Useless, ineffective. I’m his mother, for God’s sake. I’m supposed to have the magic where my child is concerned, but I don’t. I just don’t. I never did.” Her mom’s voice broke. “But you did, Quinn. I don’t know if it’s because you’re twins, or what, but sometimes I sensed this special connection between you two, so I tried to…”
Ann’s voice broke on a sob, and Quinn rushed to smooth things over. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” her mother replied, sounding steadier. “What I realized is that I do to you exactly what Callum does to me. I pull you in because I’m desperate to find someone stronger than me to bear the load. It’s horribly unfair to you. You’re not your brother’s keeper.”
“Neither are you. He’s twenty-three, Mom. All grown up. He makes his own choices, and he has to deal with the consequences. All we can do is offer support when he’s ready for real help, but we’re not experts. Sometimes it’s hard to tell where to draw the line between supporting him and enabling him. We might get it wrong on occasion, but you know what? That doesn’t change the underlying fact that Callum is responsible for Callum. I know you’re worried about him. I am, too. But even when we find him, there’s no dragging him back to Foundations if he doesn’t want to go—or anywhere else, for that matter.”
“I know.” Her mother breathed heavily. “In my heart, I know you’re right. It’s just so hard, as a parent, to watch your child struggle.”
Favorite child, Quinn silently inserted, despite having made her peace with that hierarchy a long time ago. “It’s hard for me, too, Mom.” She wasn’t sure if empathy or self-defense motivated the comment, but her mother wasn’t trying to pick a fight, so she added, “You’re not alone. We want the same thing for him. We may not see eye-to-eye all the time about how to get there, but, ultimately we’re on the same side. His.”
“I know that, too. I do, Quinn.” A hollow laugh followed. “Some mother I am. I never seem to have the right magic for one of my kids, and the other never needed any. At least not from me. I—Quinn—I’m sorry if I’ve been holding that against you. You were always so self-directed. So determined. You never undermined yourself the way he does.”
Never undermined herself? Ha. Someday it might do them both good if she told her mother that wasn’t strictly true, but now wasn’t the time to dive into her needs and the bad habits they fostered. “You don’t have to justify anything. I mean, there’s nothing to justify. Magic takes many forms. If I learned to be self-directed, I probably have my parents to thank for it. Same goes for determination. Claim a little more credit for our successes, and a little less responsibility for every stumble, okay?”
“I’ll try.”
“Good.” She ended the call with a promise to get in touch as soon as she talked to Eddie, and an exchange of “I love you’s.”
Her thumb hovered over the screen as she considered calling him now, and leaving a message, but decided against it. She wanted to speak to him. Better to call the office in a couple of hours. Lisa would make sure she got through, even if he was busy.
She lowered her phone and looked around the empty room. Where was Luke?
Auras and energy currents and psychic links weren’t her thing, but she didn’t need any woo-woo powers to sense the villa was empty. Luke McLean had left the building. Whatever morning-after fantasy she’d woven last night as she’d fallen asleep in his arms evaporated.
Get over it. This isn’t the first time you’ve woken alone.
It wasn’t. But it was the first time she’d cared. Last night he’d told her those hard-and-fast rules he’d been enforcing between them no longer mattered. Heck, together they’d eliminated another hard-and-fast rule—one she liked to refer to as the condom rule—by confirming she was on the pill and they were both risk-free. And for her, at least, that was not a one-night-stand kind of discussion. Had the first cringes of dawn found him regretting his words? Was he sending her a message with his absence?
Cold tendrils of doubt wound their way through her. She straightened her spine and batted them back. Screw that. She intended to deliver a message of her own. Directly. She loved him, dammit. Her insides quivered a little at the thought. She loved the arrogant, bossy, inflexible bastard, and she didn’t give a single shit about his lines. She would say her piece, and he would listen, and then, if he didn’t feel the same, fine. She’d gather up the slivers of the heart she’d shattered for him, and try her best to put them back together. But if he was backing off out of some misguided notion of not taking advantage of her, she was going to kick his finely chiseled ass.
Blood fired, she tossed the covers back, threw on a robe, and stalked downstairs. When she reached the landing, she heard the murmur of a voice. Through the open doors she saw Luke sitting on the patio, talking on his phone. The realization that he hadn’t escaped to his own space settled the boil of her temper to a simmer. She approached, lingering in the doorway to take in the sight of him profiled against the dawn. Bed-rumpled hair, the morning stubble shadowing his jaw, and the soft light caressing the telltale red marks on his shoulders left by her fingernails. A few frayed threads from his wash-worn jeans looked stark against the tanned skin of his foot. Belatedly, she noticed his shirt and shoes on the living room floor, along with her robe from last night. His getaway wardrobe was right there, if he’d been inclined to use it. She looked back at him, talking away in nothing but his haphazardly pulled on jeans. Apparently he wasn’t.
She stepped out onto the cobblestone, but he didn’t sense her presence. The phone conversation absorbed all of his attention. And hers. She didn’t come out with the intention of eavesdropping, but she heard him say her name. Moving closer, she waited while the person on the other end of the line spoke in what reached her ears as a tinny, indecipherable ramble.
Luke’s response, however, was clear enough. “I’ll square it with her. Tear up the contract, Eddie. There are a lot of things I’ll accept from Quinn, but money isn’t one of them.”
Tear up the contract? Their contract? Something he’d said last night replayed in her mind.
I’ll deal with the lines we have left.
She waited patiently and silently while he concluded the call, and then asked, “What did you just do, Luke?”
The hesitation of his thumb over the screen of his phone offered the only outward indication she’d startled him. He raised his head and turned to look at her, eyes calm, but full of resolve.
He didn’t need to respond. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. Her real question wasn’t what, but why. “Why did you tell Eddie to cancel our contract?”
…
Paradise Bay ought to hire Quinn to model their robes. They’d sell a million with a single image of her standing in the courtyard with her hair tumbling down in sexy disarray, and her body drenched in white silk that the first rays of daylight turned semitransparent. Fierce eyes glared with what could, at first glance, look like pure, unadulterated sexual heat, but he knew better. She was riled up, all right. To fight.
“You know why.” He stood, and slid his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. “Feel free to argue yourself breathless. It won’t change anything.”
She crossed her arms and lifted her chin, but he caught a shadow of something else in the blue depths of her eyes. Anxiety? Fear? Instinct told him to drill down on it. He closed the distance between them, and took her proud little chin in a light grip. “What’s wrong?”
“You just took a big loss, because of me. What’s right about that?”
Okay. Apparently they’d have to get through this first. “This is what’s right about it.” He covered her stubborn lips with his. A little pressure broke the stern line. They opened on a sigh, and admitted him with the eager escort of her tongue. He moved in, bodily, holding the back of her neck, cupping her ass through the slippery silk, trapping her against him until slender thighs parted for his and lush breasts plumped against his chest. Quick hands trespassed into the back of his jeans, and held. Her heartbeat vibrated through him like an echo of his own. When he lifted his head, she didn’t move, except to let out a soft breath.
“I can’t think when you do that to me.”
And he could, with her snuggled against him, head tipped back, lips wet and swollen from his kisses? “You don’t need to think right now.” He kissed her again, and again, suddenly starved for the hot slide of her mouth under his. Following a half-formed notion of laying her out on the chair where she’d bestowed one of his fondest memories and returning the favor, he turned them and then backed her up a step.
His phone pinged from his pocket, signaling a text.
She froze. He cursed. “That’s Eddie. Don’t worry about it.”
Wide, serious eyes stared up at him. She stepped out of his arms and wrapped hers around herself. “I do worry. Luke, I know you think you crossed some kind of line with me, and…look, I don’t know if you’re canceling the contract to make this better for you, or for me, but either way, it’s crazy. It’s not fair to you, and I’m not okay with it. You provided me with your time and professional expertise. I got the benefit of both. You earned your fees. We have a professional relationship—”
“No.” He shook his head. “We never had a professional relationship. We were far over that boundary before we even got started.”
“You didn’t want me as a client.”
“I sure as hell didn’t,” he agreed. “Any more than you wanted me as a trainer. But I wanted you.”
“A neurotic, narcissistic actress,” she said softly.
“Seems I’ve got a weakness for your kind of trouble, Trouble.”
He understood what she was pointing out, though. Not every issue was solved by tearing up a few sheets of paper. She loved what she did. She excelled at it, and he was going to have to deal with her career if he wanted to this to work. If he couldn’t, then canceling the contract really was just a pride-saving sacrifice on his part. “You’re mine.”
He wanted to say more, tell her more, but more wasn’t fair to her. Not yet. Despite being thousands of miles from home, they weren’t on neutral ground. They were on his turf. And despite canceling the contract, they weren’t on equal ground. Telling her he wanted her was one thing. She’d made no secret of wanting him, too. But as long as she was relying on him to attain her goal, telling her he was falling in love with her smacked of emotional blackmail. He’d convinced her she needed him, and used it as a mechanism for gaining her compliance. But forcing his feelings on her now took unfair advantage of that need. He could eliminate the contract, but he couldn’t eliminate the rest of it quite as easily. He’d have to be patient. “You’re mine, and it has nothing to do with a contract. I don’t want it between us.”
Pink crept into cheeks. “Luke, I love a grand gesture as much as the next girl, but this has real consequences for you. For your business. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“It will work out. I have a contingency plan.” He’d have to hustle a bit, cut back on his personal time to take on some additional clients, but he’d manage. “I’m not worried.” He ran a thumb over the line between her brows. “You shouldn’t, either.” But neither his words nor his touch made the line disappear. He eased back and took in the stiff set of her shoulders. Time to tackle whatever had put the anxious shadows in her eyes. “Something else on your mind?”
She nibbled her lower lip, clearly debating.
Frustration roughened his voice. “Tell me, Quinn. You don’t need a contract in place to trust me with whatever’s worrying you.”
“I got a call from my mom this morning.” Then, on a long exhale, she spilled out the rest, ending with, “I probably ought to call Eddie now, since he’s awake, and let him know what’s going on.”
Luke pulled his phone from his pocket, hit the number for her, and handed it over. He waited again while she paced the courtyard and ran through the situation for Eddie, listened to her respond to a few questions, and add a grateful, “Thanks. I really appreciate this.”
Eddie spoke again, and apparently shifted the conversation, because Quinn stopped wearing a path along the cobblestones and turned her attention to him. “Yeah. He told me.” Eddie said something more, and she laughed. Her first real laugh of the morning. “Yes, I realize I still have to do what he tells me to do.” She sent a smirk his way. “For another week. Then he can do what I say for a change.”
He simply lifted his brows in reply, but battled back the smile that kept trying to lift the corners of his mouth at her casual reference to a future with him once she returned to real life. Only an idiot would read too much into the comment—especially one intended more as a joke than a guarantee—but he read it as a good sign anyway. When she said good-bye and handed the phone back to him, he took stock of her. She looked better. Not cool, scratch-resistant Quinn Sheridan by a long shot, but less upset.
He aimed to keep the trend going. “What do you say to a beach day?”