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Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Coming Next Month
Prologue
“LEMME SEE!”
Declan Quinn held tight to the high stone wall as his big brother Ian gave him a shove. His grandmother’s opera glasses were clutched in his left hand as he trained them on the girl below. She was dressed only in a bikini, red with little yellow flowers. Lying on her stomach on a beach towel, she’d undone her top, and from the right angle, Dec could almost see her breast.
“Give me the damn binoculars,” Ian whispered.
With a low curse, Declan handed Ian his grandmother’s opera glasses, then swung his leg over the wall and straddled it. Kitty Donahue was fifteen years old and the daughter of their grandmother’s gardener. She usually accompanied her father on his Saturday chores. During the winter months, she sat in the solarium and worked on her studies. But in the summer, Dec and his brothers were treated to the mysteries of the female body as she sunbathed in a quiet corner of the garden.
She reached back to brush a bug from her shoulder and Ian moaned softly. “I can almost see it.”
“See what?”
They both looked down to find their little brother, Marcus, standing below them, a frown creasing his brow. “Nothing,” Dec said. “Go away, Marky.”
“What are you lookin’ at?” Marcus asked. He grabbed the tree that grew beside the wall and scrambled up on the other side of Dec. Searching through the bower of leaves, he finally spied the object of their interest and grinned. “She’s almost naked!” he cried.
“Shhhh!” Dec clamped a hand over Marcus’s mouth. “If you’re going to be up here, you have to be quiet.”
Wide-eyed, Marcus nodded and Dec slowly removed his hand. He took the opera glasses back from Ian and continued his study of Kitty. She was just about the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen—besides his mother and his sisters, Mary Grace and Jane.
He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, trying to picture them in his mind. It had been five years that June since he and his brothers had been home, five years since they’d last seen their parents or their older siblings. There were times when Dec wondered if they’d ever be reunited, or if the three youngest Quinn brothers would spend their entire lives in Ireland, living with their Grandmother Callahan.
Life with their maternal grandmother had been rough at first. Grace Callahan had never been a part of her grandchildren’s lives, living an ocean away in Ireland, estranged from her daughter, Emma. Though it had never been made clear to the boys, some disagreement had caused their mother to stop speaking to their grandmother long before they were born.
Still, every summer there had been an invitation for the Quinn children to visit Ireland. It was only after Emma Quinn had become horribly sick with cancer that she had finally allowed any of her children to go. And then, she’d sent just the youngest three, keeping the older children back to help support the family in the midst of mounting medical bills.
There had been no health insurance, no savings in case of emergency, but that hadn’t stopped Paddy Quinn from searching out the finest medical care for his wife. He and the older children worked at any job they could find, with little left over for luxuries like decent food, new clothes—or a visit to Ireland.
It was Ian who had taken over the role of father figure to the younger boys, appointing himself the boss of everything. Dec didn’t mind. Someone had to watch over them and though Dec was qualified, he had better things to spend his time on—like thinking about Kitty Donahue and all the other pretty Irish lasses who caught his fancy. Kitty was mysterious and fascinating and exciting. And she barely knew he existed.
“I can almost see her titties,” Marcus whispered.
Ian gave him a sharp elbow to the ribs. “Where did you learn that word?”
“Listenin’ to you tossers,” Marcus said. “Besides, that’s what they’re called, right?”
Dec rolled his eyes and Ian suppressed a grin. “Yeah,” Ian murmured. “That’s what they’re called.”
“I’m gonna go talk to her,” Dec said.
“I talked to her once,” Marcus said. He held out the small medallion he’d found in the barn a few years back. He now wore it around his neck on a leather string. “I showed her this. And I told her about the treasure.”
“She’s not interested in your silly old treasure,” Ian said.
“Yes, she was. When I showed her, she wanted me to tell her all about it. And I told her if she ever wanted to borrow my good luck charm, she could just ask.” He paused. “I think she likes me.”
“Not as much as she’s gonna like me,” Dec said. “I’m going down there.”
“Dec, don’t,” Ian pleaded. “She’ll figure out we’ve been watching her.”
“Who made you the boss of me?” Dec asked.
“Ian is the boss,” Marcus said. “Da made him the boss before we left and we’re supposed to listen to him. And if he says—”
“I listened,” Declan interrupted. “But that doesn’t mean I have to do everything he says.” He grinned. “I’m gonna ask her out. Maybe take her to a movie.”
“You are so full of shite,” Ian scoffed. “She’ll never go out with you.”
“We’ll see.” Dec dropped lightly to the ground and waded through the deep perennial beds until he stood on the grass beside Kitty. He glanced back up at Ian who watched him with barely concealed awe. Ian had always been more careful around girls, but Dec had never thought caution was much use. There was no denying that he appreciated a pretty girl, so why pretend otherwise?
He possessed a natural charm that usually appealed to the girls who he found worth pursuing. Girls had become his special talent, ever since he’d first tongue-kissed Alicia Dooley behind the rectory when he was eleven. Since then, he’d kissed a lot of girls. But he’d never approached a girl as worldly and sophisticated as Kitty Donahue. She was seriously out of his league.
But he was thirteen now and he considered himself experienced, enough that a girl like Kitty might just find him interesting. Declan cleared his throat and she glanced over her shoulder.
“What do you want?” she asked, her voice tinged with boredom. “You’re in my sun.”
“What are ya readin’?” he asked.
“Jane Eyre,” she replied.
“Interesting?” He approached the blanket and sat down in front of her, then took the book from her fingers. “Would I like it?”
“It’s really not a book for blokes,” she said. “It’s romantic.”
Declan nodded as he examined the back of the book. “Blokes can be romantic.”
She laughed. “When were you ever romantic, Declan Quinn?”
“I wasn’t. Just said I could be if I wanted to be. So what would it take?”
“For what?”
“For you to go out with me?” Dec asked. He’d learned it was always best to use the element of surprise. And to display complete confidence, even if the odds of her agreeing to a date were astronomically low. If he caught her off guard she was more likely to think he’d done this before—and say yes.
“A lot more than you have,” she said.
“Like what?”
“A car for one,” she said. “I’m not going to be ridin’ around town on the back of your bleedin’ bicycle.”
“I have a car. And a chauffeur,” Declan said with a grin. “It’s a Rolls, you know. All the big rock stars have ’em.”
She considered his point for a long moment, as if the thought of riding around in his grandmother’s Rolls Royce appealed to her. “What about nicker?” she asked. “I’d expect you to take me somewhere nice and that will cost.”
“I’ve got money,” Dec said. “My nana gives me a big allowance and I never spend it all. I suppose I’d even have enough to buy you some flowers, or some candy.”
“Well, aren’t you a cheeky little hoor.” She tipped her head to the side. “Do me up, will ya?”
Carefully, Dec reached down and picked up the straps that fastened the back of her bikini together. He slid the hook through the loop, then glanced over to the trees, wondering what Ian was thinking. The skin on Kitty’s back was smooth and warm from the sun. When he finished, she sat up and readjusted her top until everything was properly covered, though not quickly enough to avoid giving Dec a nice view of her perfect breasts.
She wrapped her arms around her legs. “So, where are you going to take me?”
He dragged his gaze away from her chest and sent her a charming grin. “Wherever you want to go.”
“To supper,” she said. “At a nice place, with table linens and fancy silver. And then to the flicks. And after that, a ride around the city.”
“And when would you be likin’ me to take you on this date?” Dec asked.
“Friday evening. You can pick me up at six. Do you know where I live?”
He shook his head. “But I’m sure I can find out.” Dec rose to his feet, then rubbed his palms on the back of his jeans.
She gave him a smile that made his stomach do a little cartwheel. “It’s a date then. Friday at six. Now, hump off. And tell your brothers I can hear them up on that wall.”
“I’ll tell ’em,” Dec said. “And I’ll see you on Friday.”
Kitty stretched back out on the blanket and unfastened her top again, then grabbed her book and started to read. Dec decided to walk back to the house through the garden, leaving Ian and Marcus to wonder exactly what had transpired. If he was lucky, they’d heard it all and would be suitably impressed.
There wasn’t a girl in the world he couldn’t charm. And it was obvious that Kitty was no exception. She was one of the prettiest girls in her form at school and she was going out with him. He jogged toward the house, but before he reached the door, Ian and Marcus came crashing through the garden gate, both gasping for breath.
“You crazy git,” Ian said. “You asked her out, didn’t ya?”
Dec nodded. “I told you I would. Did ya hear? She said yes.”
Ian braced his hands on his knees and gulped in a few deep breaths. “What the hell does she see in a kid like you?”
“She doesn’t see a kid,” Dec said. “She sees a man.”
“Oh, yeah, right. You’re a man, you are. Well, tell me, Mr. Man, what are you going to do when she wants to snog in the backseat of Nana’s car? ’Cause that’s why she wants to drive all over Dublin with you. And what about when she sticks her hand down yer pants and wants to—”
“What’s snog mean?” Marcus asked.
“Never mind,” Ian said. “Kitty Donahue is used to goin’ with older boys. You better be ready to handle yourself or it’ll be a big embarrassment.”
Declan frowned. He hadn’t really thought about all the things that might go wrong. “I know what I’m doing,” he muttered. “And don’t go givin’ me advice, Ian. You haven’t ever been on a date, so what do you know?”
“About as much as you do, little brother.” He paused, kicking at the dirt with his toe. “So do you love her?”
Dec shrugged. “Nah. I’m only gonna fall in love once when I’m old. And I’m gonna love her until the end of forever, just the same way our da loves our ma. Until then, I’m gonna mess around with as many girls as I can.”
Dec followed Ian and Marcus into the house, glancing back once into the overgrown garden. Kitty Donahue had seen something in him, something she found interesting. Now, he’d just have to make sure he lived up to her expectations.
Even if he did mess up, the experience would have to count for something. By the time he was eighteen, Dec fully intended to have women figured out from top to bottom, inside and out. There’d be no guy alive who would have more women, except maybe James Bond.
1
SHE CAUGHT HIS gaze from across the room. Declan Quinn glanced over his shoulder at the beautiful blonde in the slinky blue dress. She gave him a seductive smile, an unspoken invitation to approach, and Dec let his gaze drift lazily from her face to her tanned and lithe body.
Her dress, cut low in the front, left her arms and shoulders tantalizingly bare. Though the length fell slightly below her knee, a deep slit offered a view of a well-toned thigh. From the moment she’d entered the party, they’d been caught in this silent dance, two strangers…interested…attracted.
Declan was never one to shy away from any interest from the opposite sex. But tonight, it could be no more than a casual attraction. Besides, it was obvious what she was looking for. From the huge diamond on her finger and the old man on her arm, she’d settle for a quick roll in the hay with a man half her husband’s age.
Dec had a strict policy of never mixing business with pleasure, no matter how stunningly attractive and warmly willing that pleasure might be. He was here in Newport to do a job, to provide security for Edward and Eva Winslow’s annual garden party. Screwing one of their guests in the hall closet just wasn’t considered professional behavior.
Dec’s cell phone buzzed in the pocket of his linen trousers and he snatched it out, turning away from the doe-eyed beauty. “Declan Quinn,” he murmured as he stepped off the terrace and into the house.
“Hi, Dec, it’s Sally Hughes over at Bonnett Harbor P.D. Your brother asked that I call you.”
“Is everything all right?” Dec asked, an uneasy feeling rushing over him. His older brother, Ian, was the police chief in their hometown of Bonnett Harbor, a small village across the waters of Narragansett Bay from Newport. “Are my folks all right?”
“Sure, sure,” she said. “I’m calling about Eden Ross. She’s been spotted over at the Sandpiper Motel. As far as we can tell, she called in a report of a car theft in progress in order to slip away from some tabloid press. We sent Delaney and Wilson over there and they’re holding the reporters. I figured if you’d like to talk to them, I’ll have them brought to the station.”
“Where’s Eden Ross?” Dec asked.
“She and the guy she was with slipped away sometime after our officers arrived.”
“Let me talk to Ian,” Dec said.
“I’m afraid he’s busy. He’s got a couple of agents from the FBI here on some art forgery case.”
Dec cursed softly. Just yesterday he’d had Ian in his office in Providence along with an art expert. Somehow, his brother had gotten mixed up with Hector Arantes, a known art forger, and Hector’s beautiful daughter, Marisol. The case had obviously taken a turn now that the FBI was involved and Ian would have no time to help Declan track down Eden Ross.
“Call your guys and tell them I’ll meet them at the Sandpiper,” he said. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
He snapped the phone shut and turned for the door, then felt a hand on his arm. “You’re not leaving, are you?”
The blonde slowly circled him, placing herself between him and the door. She leaned into him, her hips pressing against his suggestively. Dec forced a smile. “Business calls,” he said.
“There are more important things than business,” she said, her fingers sliding down his arm to touch his hand.
Dec chuckled. If he wanted her, he could have her, probably right underneath her husband’s nose. They could find an empty bedroom, lock the door behind them, and go at it for ten or fifteen minutes. Or they could make plans to meet later that evening, maybe at a discreet motel across the bay. Hell, there had been a time in his life when he would have welcomed sex without strings. But not now, and definitely not tonight.
“As much as I would like to indulge,” he said, “I’m afraid I can’t. First of all, I’m chasing a runaway party girl around New England and if I don’t find her, her father is going to cancel the million-dollar retainer he gives me to take care of his security needs. Secondly, I just recently promised my two brothers that I’d be celibate for three months and I don’t intend to break that promise. And thirdly, your husband is watching us right now and I certainly don’t want to have to knock him to the ground when he decides to defend your honor with his fists. There’s an obliging waiter passing out champagne over by the pool. I’m sure he’d be willing to satisfy your needs.”
She gasped softly as Declan turned and walked toward the front of the mansion. As difficult as it was to turn down a night in bed with a beautiful woman, he did have to keep his priorities straight. After all, he was the one who had challenged his brothers to the celibacy pact and he’d made it three weeks without a regret.
But then, the first week he’d been occupied with tracking down an embezzler for a client in Boston. The second week, he’d been conducting background checks for a client in New York City. And all of this past week had been spent chasing Eden Ross. Celibacy wasn’t too difficult if a guy didn’t have time to think about sex.
Declan spent the next few minutes coordinating security for the rest of the evening with the three employees he’d assigned to the party. By the time he reached the front door, his car had been brought around and was waiting. He tipped the valet, then hopped inside the BMW sedan and headed out to the main road.
This was the closest he’d come to finding Eden Ross but once again, she’d slipped through his fingers. Still, he knew she was close by and with a little luck, she’d decide to come home on her own. Chasing silly little socialites really wasn’t his forte. And the socialite in question had brought her problems on herself, choosing to appear in a naughty sex tape that just happened to make it on to the Internet.
Trevor Ross was his most important client, so Dec had to make an extraordinary effort. But Ross wouldn’t be happy at the latest news, especially since Eden had been seen in Dec’s backyard. He flipped on the radio and listened distractedly as he steered the car over the Newport Bridge.
“You’re tuned to the Ross Radio Network. It’s Saturday night, and this is Simply Sex with Dr. Lillian Devine.” Dec frowned, reaching out to pop a CD into the player, but the silken tones of the show’s hostess kept him listening a few moments longer.
“We’re still on the air with Carl from Los Angeles, California. Carl is wondering how he might spice up his sex life. My advice for you, Carl, is to spend some time focusing on your wife’s needs. The best way to increase her desire is to make her feel like she’s the only lover you could ever want. Invest in her orgasms. Make sure they’re the best they can be. Put aside your own desires until you’re certain all of her needs are being met.”
Dec found himself captivated by her voice, the way words dripped off her tongue like honey. A shiver skittered down his spine and he groaned. He didn’t need to be listening to this, especially considering his determination to control his sexual urges, at least for the next nine weeks.
But he continued to listen as Dr. Devine discussed the physiology of the female orgasm, the benefits of oral sex and battery-operated substitutes, and the top five female sexual fantasies. And when Dec finally reached the Sandpiper Motel, he found himself strangely aroused by all the frank talk. With a soft curse, he flipped the radio off and stepped out of the car.
“A woman with a voice like that should not be allowed to talk about sex,” he murmured as he walked over to the police cruiser. “How can she expect anyone to pay attention to what she’s saying? She’d be better off at 1-900-talk dirty to me.”
For all he knew, Dr. Lillian Devine was probably some frumpy fifty-year-old Ph.D Just the thought was like a bucket of ice water tossed down his pants.
But if she were beautiful and smart, then that would be one of his top five fantasies. She wouldn’t even have to be drop-dead gorgeous. Pretty would do, even cute. But smart and sexy was an irresistible combination, one he hadn’t enjoyed in a very long time. And if the woman could talk dirty to him, he’d be in heaven. Unfortunately, heaven was off-limits for the next nine weeks.
Delaney and Wilson, the two officers from the Bonnett Harbor police department, stood next to a car parked across the road from the Sandpiper. Dec approached and Delaney gave him a wave of recognition. “Sally said you wanted to talk to these guys.”
Dec nodded. “Are you sure it was Eden Ross?”
“They were,” Wilson said, nodding to the two men sitting in the backseat of the police cruiser. “And we ran the plate on the Mercedes parked in the lot. It’s registered to Trevor Ross. She must have taken the keys with her. They weren’t left in the room.”
Shaking his head, Dec ran his hand through his hair. “I guess you guys ought to be happy this girl doesn’t take up a life of crime. She is one slippery customer.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Trevor Ross’s private number. “Mr. Ross, Declan Quinn here. I’ve got some news on your daughter. It seems she did stop by your Newport house just long enough to steal one of your cars.”
Dec heard a curse on the other end of the line. “I want you to bring her and the car back to the house tonight,” Ross shouted.
“I’m afraid she slipped by us,” Dec said. “But, from what I can see, she’s safe.”
“Fine. Hell, I’m tired of wasting your time and my money trying to find her,” Ross said. “Besides, I have another case I need you to focus on. And it will require your complete attention. Have you ever heard of Dr. Lillian Devine?”
Dec reached into his jacket to pull out his Blackberry, surprised that Ross would bring up the name. “I have,” he said. “I just heard her earlier on the radio.”
“Her real name is Rachel Merrill and she’s one of our most valuable on-air talents,” Ross explained. “An important part of our syndication package. I’ve had my security guys watching over her but she refuses to let them get too close. I don’t think she believes the threat is that serious. Now it is.”
“How serious?” Dec asked.
“We had a letter delivered to the station tonight that was a blatant death threat. I need you to meet me in my office tomorrow afternoon and I’ll have my guys brief you. And then I want you to convince her that a 24-hour-a-day bodyguard is in her best interest.”
“How do you expect me to convince her of that?” Dec asked.
“You’re a charming guy. You figure it out. I want you on her until this nutcase is caught.”
Dec was paid a healthy retainer to be at Ross’s disposal, whenever a security concern came up. He listened as Ross gave him more details, putting the afternoon appointment into the PDA along with other relevant information. In truth, Dec had to breathe a silent sigh of relief that he could leave the search for Trevor’s wild daughter to others. He hadn’t spent four years in naval intelligence and another three building up Quinn Security and Investigations to spend his valuable time chasing silly heiresses around the countryside.
RACHEL MERRILL SLID HER KEY card into the garage door opener then slowly pulled her SUV ahead as the doors to the underground garage opened. She glanced over her shoulder, just to make sure that no one slipped into the garage in the dark. As she looked back, she saw her security detail pull up to the curb and wait. She let out a tightly held breath once the garage door was closed.
“Safe,” she murmured to herself. She was on her own now and the detail would be there in the morning to follow her during her daily routine. Rachel sighed. Just having security following her was enough to put her in a constant state of anxiety. She couldn’t remember the last time she wasn’t uneasy…watchful.
A few months ago, the thought of having a stalker was inconceivable. And at first, she’d brushed off the letters, thinking them to have been sent by an overzealous fan. But then the notes had begun to arrive with more frequency, messages left for her at the station at least two or three times a week. And when she found a letter at her home, she was forced to admit that her safety might just be in danger.