About the Authors

CHRISTINE RIMMER came to her profession the long way around. She tried everything from acting to teaching to telephone sales. Now she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly. She insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Christine lives with her family in Oregon. Visit her at christinerimmer.com

New Zealand born, to Dutch immigrant parents, YVONNE LINDSAY became an avid romance reader at the age of thirteen. Now, married to her “blind date” and with two fabulous children, she remains a firm believer in the power of romance. Yvonne feels privileged to be able to bring to her readers the stories of her heart. In her spare time, when not writing, she can be found with her nose firmly in a book, reliving the power of love in all walks of life. She can be contacted via her website, www.yvonnelindsay.com

After years of living in a small inland city in New South Wales, Australia, JENNIE ADAMS re-embraced the country lifestyle of her childhood. When she isn’t writing Jennie dedicates her time to promoting the natural wonders of her new area and encouraging others to visit and enjoy what now constitutes her backyard—large tracts of native bushland, flora and fauna reserves, and wetlands. Jennie’s family has grown to embrace in-laws (and outlaws, as she always jokes), sisters, daughters and brothers of the heart. Find Jennie at joybyjennie.com

Seduced by the Single Dad

The Good Girl’s Second Chance

Christine Rimmer

Wanting What She Can’t Have

Yvonne Lindsay

Daycare Mum to Wife

Jennie Adams

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09718-5

SEDUCED BY THE SINGLE DAD

The Good Girl’s Second Chance © 2015 Christine Rimmer Wanting What She Can’t Have © 2014 Dolce Vita Trust Daycare Mum to Wife © 2011 Jennie Adams

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Authors

Title Page

Copyright

The Good Girl’s Second Chance

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Wanting What She Can’t Have

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Daycare Mum to Wife

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

About the Publisher

The Good Girl’s Second Chance

Christine Rimmer

For Kimberly Fletcher, AKA Kimalicious,

Kimalovely, Kimhilarious—and more.

You warm my heart and make me smile.

I’m so happy to call you my friend.

And this one’s for you!

Chapter One

Chloe Winchester woke with a startled cry.

She popped straight up in bed as her heart trip-hammered against her ribs. Splaying a hand to her heaving chest, she sent a frantic, frightened glance around the darkened room.

No threat. None.

Just her shadowed bedroom in the middle of the night, silvery moonlight streaming in the high, narrow window over the curtained sliding glass door.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” she whispered aloud between gasps for air. “A nightmare.” More specifically, it was the nightmare, the one starring her ultrasuccessful, über-controlling, bad-tempered ex-husband, Ted.

Not real, she reminded herself. Not anymore.

Ted Davies was the past. He held no threat for her now.

Chloe smoothed a shaking hand over her hair, pressed her cool fingers to her flushed cheek and took long, deep breaths until her racing heart slowed. Finally, when her pulse had settled to a normal rhythm and the dew of fear-sweat had dried on her skin, she plumped her pillow, settled back under the covers and closed her eyes.

Sleep didn’t come.

She tossed and turned for a while, and then tried to make herself lie still as she stared up at the ceiling and willed herself to feel drowsy again.

Not happening.

Finally, with a weary sigh, she shoved back the covers and went to the kitchen. She heated milk and sweetened it with honey. Then she carried her mug to the living area, where she turned a single lamp on low. Gazing out the two stories of windows that faced her back deck, she sipped slowly and tried to clear her mind of everything but the beauty of the Colorado night.

She could see a light on in the big house down the hill from her. Quinn Bravo lived there with his little daughter, Annabelle, and that funny old guy, Manny. They’d moved in a few months before.

Chloe smiled to herself. So. Somebody down there couldn’t sleep, either. Maybe Quinn? Could the tough martial arts star suffer from bad dreams, too?

Unlikely. Quinn “the Crusher” Bravo was world-famous for taking down the most unbeatable opponents. No mere nightmare would dare keep him awake. She wished she could be more like him, impervious and strong. He seemed so very self-confident in his quiet, watchful way.

And so different, really, from the boy he’d once been, the one she remembered from when they were children, the wild, angry boy with a chip the size of Denver on his shoulder who was always getting in fights.

Different also from the boy he’d become by high school, still rough-edged, but quieter, with a seething intensity about him. She’d avoided him then, the same as she had when they were children. All the nice girls avoided dangerous and unpredictable Quinn Bravo.

Even if, secretly, he made their hearts beat faster...

* * *

Quinn Bravo stood in his living room wearing an old pair of sweats, worn mocs and a Prime Sports and Fitness T-shirt. He stared blankly out the window at the faint gleam of light from the house up the hill. Beyond that house, the almost-full face of the moon hung suspended above the peaks of the Colorado mountains.

He should go back to bed. But he knew he wouldn’t sleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about what his four-year-old daughter had asked him when he tucked her in that night.

A faint movement beyond the wall of windows up the hill caught his eye. Must be Chloe. She lived there alone. Beautiful, smart Chloe Winchester, who’d gone off to college at Stanford and married some big-shot lawyer as everyone always knew she would. The big shot had carried her off to live the high life down in Southern California.

Quinn didn’t know the whole story. He just knew that the marriage hadn’t lasted. When he moved back to town several months ago, there was Chloe, minus the rich husband, with no kids, on her own in her old hometown, living in the shadow of the Rockies on the street up the hill from him.

Maybe a little fresh air would clear his head, relax him.

Quinn pulled open the French doors that led onto the back deck. It was a clear July night, almost balmy, the moon very close to full. He stepped outside and quietly shut the doors behind him. Crossing to the deck railing, he folded his arms across his chest, braced his legs wide and stared up at the light in Chloe’s house. He indulged himself, allowing his mind to dwell on her a little, to wonder about her, about what might have messed up the smooth trajectory of her life and brought her back to Justice Creek alone.

True, it was none of his business, whatever had happened to bring Chloe back where she’d started. But focusing on what might have gone wrong for a woman he didn’t really know took his mind off his little girl and her questions that he had no clue how to answer.

He noted movement again up there on the hill, a glass door sliding open.

And out she came, the one and only Chloe Winchester. Damn, she was gorgeous, even from a hundred yards away. Gorgeous, even in a baggy pink shirt. That long golden hair shone silvery in the moonlight and her fine, bare legs gleamed.

Quinn had no time for chasing women. He had a daughter to raise and a new business to build. But hot damn. Any man with a pulse would want to cut himself off a nice big slice of that.

Chloe went to the railing and rested her hands on it. For a long count of ten, she stared down at him as he looked up at her. She wasn’t inviting him up exactly. But he definitely felt the pull.

And how could he help enjoying the moment? Hell. Chloe Winchester giving him the look? Never in a million years would he have guessed that would happen.

And the more they stared at each other, the more certain he became that a hundred yards was too much distance between them. He would much rather look at her up close. Manny was home if Annabelle woke up.

So he went back to the doors, pushed one open and engaged the lock, drawing it shut and hearing the click that meant his daughter was safe inside. When he turned again toward the woman up the hill, she hadn’t moved. She remained at the railing, her head tipped slightly down and aimed in his direction, almost certainly watching him.

Fair enough, then.

He descended the back stairs, glancing up when he reached the bottom. She hadn’t moved.

So he crossed his small patch of landscaped ground and began ascending the hill between their houses, skirting rocky outcroppings and ponderosa pines, the native grasses whispering beneath the leather soles of his mocs. He took it slow, glancing up at her now and then, expecting any moment that she would turn and retreat inside—at which point he would calmly wheel around and go home where he belonged.

But Chloe stood her ground.

When he reached the base of the stairs leading up to her deck, he paused, giving her a chance to...what?

Run away? Order him off her property?

When she only continued to gaze directly down at him, her eyes steady, her expression composed, he mounted the steps.

And she did move then. She came toward him, meeting him at the top where the steps opened wide. “Quinn,” she said.

He nodded. “Chloe.”

“Pretty night.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“How have you been?”

“Doing okay. You?”

A tiny smile flickered at the corner of her lush mouth. “Getting by.” With that, she turned and led the way to a pair of cedar armchairs positioned close together in front of her great room windows. She dropped into one of those chairs, a move so graceful it stole his breath, and then gestured with a small, regal sweep of her hand for him to sit beside her.

He sat. And for several minutes, neither of them spoke. They stared up at the clear night sky and the milky smear of the faraway stars. The slight breeze brought her scent to him—like some exotic flower. Jasmine, maybe. And not only that, something...a little bit musky and a whole lot womanly.

Finally, she spoke again. “What keeps you awake, Quinn?” Her voice was low for a woman, low and calm and pleasing.

He turned and looked at her. Her eyes were a pale, glowing shade of blue, her face a smooth oval, that tempting mouth so soft and full. She really was a prize, every red-blooded man’s fantasy of the perfect woman, a woman who would make a man a beautiful home and provide him with handsome, smart, upwardly mobile children.

And as to her question? He didn’t plan to answer her. But then he opened his mouth and the truth fell out. “My daughter asked about her mother for the first time tonight. I’m trying to decide what to tell her.”

Chloe hummed, a thoughtful sort of sound. “Her name is Annabelle, right?”

“That’s right.”

“So I’m assuming Annabelle doesn’t know her mother?”

“No, she doesn’t. I doubt she ever will.”

“Ah.” Chloe waited, her head tipped to the side, her eyes alert, giving him a chance to say more. When he remained silent, she suggested, “Tell her only the truth, but tell it carefully. She’s how old?”

“Four.”

“She wants to know that you love her. She wants to know she’s safe and that her mother loves her, too—or would, if she knew her. She wants to know it’s not her fault, whatever happened that you and her mother aren’t together and her mother isn’t in her life.” Chloe smiled. God. What he wouldn’t give to taste that mouth. “But don’t load it on her all at once. Well-meaning parents have a tendency to overexplain. Try to get a sense of what she’s ready for and just answer the questions she actually asks.”

He faced front again and stared out at the night. She was so tasty to look at, with full breasts, the points of her nipples visible under that pink shirt. She had endless legs, slender arms and that perfect angel’s face. He needed to take all that beauty in careful doses. He said, “I thought you didn’t have kids.”

“I don’t. But I like kids.” The beautiful voice was weighted with sadness. “Before I moved back home, I did volunteer day care with a San Diego family shelter. I helped out with special-needs children, too. And in college, I took just about every child development class available. I had big plans in college. I was going to be the perfect wife to a very important man—and the mother of at least three healthy, bright, happy children.”

Strange. Looking away wasn’t working for him. Why deprive himself of the sight of her? He turned his head and faced her once more, something down inside him going tight and hot when he met her eyes. “I remember you always seemed like you knew exactly where you were going.”

“Yes, I did. I used to think I knew everything, used to be so sure of how my life would be.” A husky chuckle escaped her. The sound rubbed along his nerve endings, stirring up sparks. “And that’s what keeps me up nights, Quinn. All my big plans that came to dust...”

Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled. Quinn considered what, exactly, he ought to say next, if anything. He was still trying to find the right words when she stood.

He let his gaze track upward over those fine legs and her little pink terry-cloth shorts, over the womanly curves under the oversize shirt. The view was amazing. And he needed to thank her for the advice, say good-night and hustle his ass back down the hill.

But then she offered him her delicate, ladylike hand. He eyed it warily, glancing up again to meet those ice-blue eyes. No mistaking what he saw in those eyes: invitation.

It was the middle of the night and he didn’t have time for this. He should be home in his own damn bed.

So, was he going to turn such beauty down?

Not. A. Chance.

He took the hand she offered. Her skin was cool and silky. Heat shot up his arm, down through the center of him and straight to his groin. Stifling a groan, he rose to stand with her.

She turned quickly, pulling him along behind her, pushing open the slider, leading him inside, across her two-story great room and down a short hall to her bedroom, which was as beautiful and tasteful as the woman herself, so feminine and orderly—except for the tangled covers on the unmade bed.

She bent and turned on the nightstand lamp, then stood tall to meet his eyes once more. “Somehow I feel...safe with you,” she said in that fine alto voice that turned him on almost as much as her face and her body did. “I’ve noticed...” Her voice trailed away. She glanced down, swallowed and then, finally, raised her head to meet his gaze again.

He couldn’t resist. He lifted a hand, nice and slow so as not to spook her, and ran the back of his index finger along the silky skin of her throat. She trembled and sucked in a sharp little gasp of breath, but didn’t duck away. And he asked, “You’ve noticed what?”

Her mouth twisted, as though the words were hard to come by. “Since you, uh, came back to town, you seem... I don’t know. So calm. Kind of thoughtful. I admire that, I really do.”

What could he say to that? Thanks? That seemed kind of lame, so he didn’t say anything, just ran the back of his finger down the outside of her arm, enjoying the satiny feel of her skin, loving the way her mouth formed a soft O and her eyes went hazy in response to his touch.

She said, “I’ve been with one man in my life—my husband, who was supposed to be loving and tender and protective, but turned out to be one rotten, abusive, cheating SOB.” She moved slightly away from him again, reaching over to pull open the bedside drawer. “I’ve been out a few times with nice men, in the year since I came home. I keep thinking I need to take the plunge again, take a chance again and be with someone new. So I bought these.” She raised her hand and he saw that she held a strip of condoms. They unrolled from her palm with a snap. “To be prepared, you know?” A soft, rueful smile. “I haven’t used a single one. I didn’t want to. It never felt right. But tonight, with you... Quinn, I...” Her fine voice gone breathless, she said, “Back in high school, sometimes, I used to think about what it might be like, to be with you...”

Those words hit him right where he lived. “I used to think about you, too, Chloe.”

Her amazing face glowed up at him. “You did?”

“Oh, yeah.” Not that she ever would have gone out with him if he asked her. She’d had her plans for her life and they didn’t include a wannabe cage fighter who could barely read. Plus, her snotty parents would’ve disowned her if she started in with one of Willow Mooney’s boys, the ones they called the bastard Bravos because his mother hadn’t married his father, Frank Bravo, until after Frank’s rich first wife, Sondra, died.

Uh-uh. No way Linda Winchester would have let her precious only daughter get near him, one of Willow’s boys—and the “slow” one, at that. And Chloe was always a good girl who did what her mama expected of her.

Chloe scanned his face, her expression suddenly anxious. “I have this feeling that somehow I should explain myself, give you a better reason to stay with me tonight...”

“Uh-uh.” He stepped even closer—close enough that her body touched his. Her soft breasts brushed his chest, and the dizzying scent of her swam around him. Slowly, carefully, he lifted his hand and speared his fingers into that glorious mane of yellow hair. Like a curtain of silk, that hair. He loved the feel of it so much that he balled his fist and wrapped the thick strands around his wrist, pulling her even closer, right up against him, nice and tight.

“Oh!” she said on a shaky breath, baby blue eyes saucer-wide staring up into his.

All that softness and beauty, his for the night. He bent enough to suck in a deep breath through his nose. God, the scent of her. She smelled of everything womanly, everything most wanted—everything he’d never thought to hold, not even for a single night. He buried his face against her long, silky throat. “You don’t need to explain anything, angel.” He nuzzled her neck and then scraped his teeth across her tender skin. She gasped. He muttered, “Not a damn thing.”

“I’m not an angel.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“Just for tonight, yeah?” She wrapped those slim arms around him, clutching him to her, tipping her head back, offering him more, offering him everything. “Just this one time...”

“However you want it.”

“Just kiss me. Just...hold me. Just make me forget.”

Chapter Two

Quinn took her by the shoulders and gently set her at arm’s length. She swayed a little on her bare feet, gazing up at him, breathless, eyes starry with need.

He said, “First, I want to see you.”

A soft gasp. “Okay.”

“All of you.”

“Okay.”

He took her big pink shirt by the hem. “Raise your arms.”

She obeyed without hesitation. He lifted the shirt up over her head, past the pink-painted tips of her fingers and tossed it away. Her hair settled, so shiny and thick, spilling past her shoulders, down her back, over her breasts. She let her arms fall back to her sides and gazed up at him expectantly.

Impossible. Chloe Winchester, naked to the waist, standing right in front of him.

He cupped one fine, full breast in his hand and flicked the pretty nipple. His breath clogged in his throat, and the ache in his groin intensified. “You’re so damn beautiful, Chloe.”

“I...” She didn’t seem to know what to say next. Which was fine. He was getting one night with her. And it wasn’t going to be about what either of them might have to say.

He leaned close again, because he couldn’t stop himself. He stuck out his tongue and licked her temple. She moaned. He blew on the place he’d just moistened, guiding her hair out of the way and whispering into the perfect pink shell of her ear “Take off those little shorts.”

She whipped them down and off in an instant, so fast that he couldn’t help smiling. And then she stood tall again, completely naked in front of him, an answering smile trembling its way across her mouth. “Quinn?”

“Shh. Let me look.”

She widened her eyes—and then she shut them. And then she just stood there, eyes closed tight, and let him gaze his fill.

Touching followed. How could he help reaching for her? She was smooth and round and firm and soft. And she was standing right in front of him, Chloe Winchester, who had starred in more than one of his wild and impossible sexual fantasies when he was growing up.

He pulled her close again, wrapped his arms around the slim, yet curvy shape of her and pressed his lips into her hair. “Beautiful.”

She lifted her face and gazed up at him. “You, too, please.” He must have looked confused, because she added, “I want to see you, too.”

He chuckled and stepped back. “Yes, ma’am.” It took about ten seconds. He kicked off the mocs, reached back over his shoulders and pulled his shirt up and off. He eased the sweats over his erection and pushed them down, dropping them to the floor and stepping free of them.

“Oh,” she said. “Oh, Quinn...” She reached out and ran her palm over his belly and then over the series of tats that covered his left arm. And then she touched the one for Annabelle, the angel’s wings and the green vines, the trumpet flowers and his little girl’s name, written right where it should be written, over his heart. “I never thought...you and me. Like this...?”

“Hey. Me, neither.”

“Life can be so awful.”

“Yeah.”

“But then there are surprising, magical moments—like this one, huh?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He turned and shoved the tangled sheets and blankets out of the way. And then he took her by the waist, lifted her and set her on the bed. “Lie down.”

She obeyed, stretching out on her side with a sigh. He went down to the mattress with her. He kissed her, tasting her mouth for the first time, finding it as sweet as the rest of her. Her tongue came out to play and for a while, they just lay there, on their sides, kissing and kissing, as if nothing else mattered in the whole damn world, nothing but his mouth and her mouth, the scrape of white teeth, the tangle of tongues.

One night they had together. He wanted to stretch every second just short of the breaking point, enjoy every touch, every sigh, every soft, tempting curve. He wanted to share her breath and the tender, urgent beat of her heart.

After he kissed her mouth, he kissed her everywhere else, too, taking forever about it, getting carried away, using his teeth as well as his tongue. He knew he left marks, marks he soothed with softer, gentler kisses. She never once objected when he used his teeth.

Far from it. She gasped and cried out her pleasure, clutching him close, telling him “Yes” and “More” and “Again, Quinn. Oh, again...”

He gave her more. More strokes, more kisses, trailing his mouth down the center of her, biting a little, trying not to be too rough, opening her, dipping his tongue in. He pushed her legs wide and settled between them for a long time.

She came twice then, as he played her with his mouth and his hands. She had his name on her lips, over and over. He loved that most of all: Chloe Winchester, calling his name as she came.

After that second time, when she was boneless and open for him, he rose to his knees between her spread thighs. Ripping the first condom off the strip, he took off the wrapper and rolled it down over his length, easing it into place nice and tight. She stared up at him, dazed and flushed and softly smiling.

“Quinn.” She reached for him. “Please...”

And he went down to her, taking most of his weight on his arms. She slipped her hand between them, closing those slim fingers around him. He was the one groaning then, the one calling her name.

She guided him in. He sank into her slowly, carefully, little by little, stretching her and the moment, making it last. She felt so good—better than anything he’d ever known, soft and welcoming, and a little bit tight.

He varied the rhythm, watching her face, matching his strokes to her pleasured moans, her hungry cries. Somehow he stayed with her, until she went over for the third time. After that, there was no holding back. He was rough and fast, and she clung to him, nice and tight, all the way to the peak and over the edge.

She cradled him close then, stroking his shoulders and his arms, whispering “So good. Just right,” laughing a little. “Who knew, really? Whoever would have thought...?”

“Beautiful,” he said. “Never would have guessed.”

They must have dozed for a while.

He woke to find her sleeping peacefully, one arm across his chest. He’d been hoping that maybe they would have time to play some more.

But it was later than he’d thought. The clock by the bed said 5:05 in the morning. The first glow of daylight would be bleeding the night from the sky all too soon. The houses in their neighborhood were spaced far apart, built to conform to the shape of the land, with plenty of big trees between them. He might make it down the hill in broad daylight with no one the wiser.

But why take that chance? It was nobody’s business, this one unforgettable night they’d shared.

With care, he eased out from under her arm. She sighed and rolled to her back, but didn’t wake. He slid from the bed. Before settling the covers over her, he stole another long glance at her and got struck by a last hot bolt of pure lust at the sight of the faint marks he’d left on her perfect breasts, her pretty belly.

They would fade soon, those marks. He tried not to wish...

Uh-uh. Never mind. One night. That was the deal.

He pulled on his clothes and went out the way he’d come in, noting that she hadn’t rearmed the alarm on the wall by the slider when she led him inside.

Good. That meant he didn’t have to wake her to go. He locked the slider and then went out through the front door, which he could also lock behind him, thus securing her inside.

He ran around the side of the house and then on down the hill.

At home, he got the spare key from its hiding place under the stairs and let himself in. The house was just as he’d left it. Silent and dark.

He stepped inside and shut the doors with barely a sound—and found Manny, his former trainer and longtime business partner, sitting in one of the big chairs by the moss rock fireplace. The old fighter switched on the lamp beside him. He wore a knowing grin on that roadmap of a face. “Hey, Crush. Where you been?”

Quinn locked the doors. “Since when are you my mother?”

Manny rumbled out a low laugh. “You and that gorgeous uptown blonde up the hill? I never had a clue.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” Quinn headed for the stairs.

Manny watched him go. “She’s a fine one. I find I am lookin’ at you with new respect.”

“Night, Manny.”

“Got news for you, Crush. It’s tomorrow already.”

Quinn just kept walking. Manny’s knowing cackle followed him up the stairs.

* * *

Chloe was sound asleep when her alarm went off at seven.

She woke with a smile, feeling thoroughly rested and a little bit sore. If it weren’t for that soreness and the small, already-fading red marks and bruises on her breasts and stomach, she almost might have been able to tell herself that the night before was all a dream.

Not that she wanted to deny what had happened. It had been glorious. She’d loved every minute of it.

As she sat up and stretched, yawning with gusto, she couldn’t help wishing she hadn’t told Quinn that she only wanted one night. Because he was remarkable. He’d given her hope that love and passion and tenderness weren’t all just some fantasy, some bright, naive dream that could never come true.

She would love to spend more time with him.

But she let her arms drop and her shoulders droop with a sigh.

No. They had a deal and she would stick by it. He’d been great and the sex had been mind-blowing. Now she knew for certain that there were better lovers out there than Ted. She would be grateful for that and eventually, maybe, she’d find someone who made her want to take another chance on forever.

She got ready for work and then had breakfast. The house phone rang just as she was heading out the door. Probably her mother. She’d check her messages later and call her back then.

As she was pulling out of the driveway, her cell rang. She slipped the SUV into Park and checked the display. With a sigh, she gave in and answered. “Hi, Mom. Just on my way over to the showroom.”

“But it’s not even nine yet,” Linda Winchester complained. “You have time to stop by the house. Let me fix you some breakfast.”

“I’ve already eaten. And I have to get the shop opened.”

“Sweetheart, it’s your shop. You’re the boss. No need to rush over there at the crack of dawn.”

“Come on, Mom. A successful business doesn’t run itself.” Not that Your Way Interior Design was all that successful. Yet.

“I hardly see you lately. We need to chat.”

Chatting with her mother was the last thing she needed. They hadn’t been getting along all that well since Chloe’s divorce. And it had only gotten worse after she returned to Justice Creek. Linda knew what was right for her only child and she never missed an opportunity to lecture Chloe on all she’d done wrong. And somehow, whenever they “chatted,” her mother always managed to bring up Ted and the perfect life Chloe had thrown away. “Mom, I’ll have to call you later. I need to get to work.”

“But, sweetheart, I want to—”

“Call you tonight, Mom.”

Her mother was still protesting as Chloe disconnected the call.

She drove to her showroom and unlocked the doors at nine, an hour before most of the businesses on Central Street opened. She had a good location and an attractive shop, with neutral walls and sleek, modern cabinetry and red and yellow accents to give it energy and interest. Her motto was Your Space, Your Way. She had attractive displays, and plenty of them, lots of table space for spreading out samples. And she was trained in every aspect of home design, from blueprints up.

Her website looked great and she stayed active on Facebook, Pinterest, Twitter and Tumblr. She kept a blog where she gave free tips on great ways to spiff up your living space. During the school year, she ran a workshop right there in her showroom for high school students interested in interior design. She contributed her expertise to local churches, helping them spruce up their Sunday school rooms and social halls. And she worked right along with the other shop owners in Justice Creek on various chamber of commerce projects.

Still, it took time to build a business. Chloe had found a real shark of a divorce lawyer who’d put the screws to Ted and got her a nice lump settlement, which Chloe had asked for. The onetime payout was less than monthly alimony would have been in total, but the last thing she wanted was to be getting regular checks from Ted. With the settlement, she’d been able to cut ties with him completely.

She’d tried to spend her money wisely. She loved her house, which she’d redone herself, and she was proud of her business. But the past couple of months, she had more to worry about than putting Ted behind her and whether or not there might someday be love in her future.

Chloe’s nest egg was shrinking. Your Way needed to start paying its way.

That day, as it turned out, was better than most. She had steady walk-in traffic. A new couple in town came in and hired her to do all the window treatments in the house they’d just bought. She scheduled three appointments to give estimates: two living room redesigns and a kitchen upgrade. When her assistant, Tai Stockard, a design student home from CU for the summer, came in at one, Chloe sent her to the Library Café for takeout paninis. It was turning into a profitable day and they might as well enjoy a nice lunch.

Chloe went home smiling—until she remembered she owed her mother a call.

“Come on over for dinner,” her mother coaxed. “I’ve got lamb chops and twice-baked potatoes just the way you love them. We’re leaving for Maui tomorrow.” Chloe’s mom and dad would be gone for two weeks, staying at a luxury resort where her mother could enjoy the spa and the lavish meals and her father could play golf. “I want to see you before we go.”

Chloe went to dinner at the house where she’d grown up. It wasn’t that bad. Linda managed not to say a single word about Ted. And it was good to see her dad. An orthodontist with a successful practice, Doug Winchester had a dry sense of humor and never tried to tell his only daughter how to live her life.

By nine, Chloe was back at home. She got ready for bed, settled under the covers with the latest bestseller and tried not to let her mind wander to the question of what Quinn Bravo might be doing that night.

* * *

Quinn heard the soft whisper of small feet across the tiled floor as he stared out the window at the single light shining from inside Chloe’s house. “Go back to bed, Annabanana,” he said softly without turning.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“The monsters are very noisy. And I’m not a banana. You know that, Daddy.”

“Yes, you are.” He turned and dropped to a crouch. “You’re my favorite banana.”

Dragging her ancient pink blanket and her one-eyed teddy bear, Annabelle marched right up to him and put one of her little hands on his shoulder. “No, I’m not. I’m a girl.”

He leaned closer and whispered, “Ah. Gotta remember that.”

“Pick me up, Daddy,” she instructed. “Get the flashlight.”

He wrapped his arms around her and stood. She giggled and hugged his neck, shoving her musty old teddy bear into the side of his face. He detoured to the kitchen, where he got the flashlight from a drawer. Then he returned to the living room and mounted the stairs.

She didn’t object as he carried her up to her room, set her down on the bed, flicked on the lamp and then pulled the covers up over her and the stuffed bear, smoothing the ancient blanket atop her butterfly-printed bedspread.

“Closet,” she said, when he bent to kiss her plump cheek.

He went to the closet, pushed the door open and shone the light around inside. “Nothing in here.”

“You have to tell them,” she said patiently. “You know that.”

He ran the light over her neatly hung-up dresses and the row of little shoes and said in his deepest, gruffest voice, “Monsters, get lost.” He rolled the door shut. “That should do it.”

But Annabelle didn’t agree. “Now under the bed.”

So he knelt by the bed and lifted up the frilly bed skirt and shone the light around underneath. “Holiday Barbie’s down here. With her dress over her head.”

The bed skirt on the other side rustled as small hands lifted it and Annabelle appeared, upside down. “Oops.” She snatched up the doll and let the bed skirt drop. “Okay, tell them.”

“Monsters, get lost.” He gave a long, threatening growl for good measure. On the bed, his daughter laughed, a delighted peal of sound that had him smiling to himself. “So, all right,” he said. “They’re gone.” And then he got up and sat on the bed and tucked her in again, bending close to press a kiss on her cheek and breathe in the little-girl smell of her. Toothpaste and baby shampoo, so familiar. So sweet. “Anything else?” he asked, suddenly worried about how she might answer, recalling Chloe’s wise advice of the night before. She wants to know it’s not her fault, whatever happened that you and her mother aren’t together and her mother isn’t in her life...

Annabelle shook her head. “That’s all.”

He felt equal parts guilt and relief. Guilt that he wasn’t as good a father as Annabelle deserved. Relief that he wouldn’t have to tackle the tough questions tonight, after all. “You know there are really no monsters in your room, right?”

She nodded slowly. “But I like it when you scare them away.”

He got up. “Sleep now, princess.”

She beamed at him. “Princess is good. Not banana.”

“Close your eyes...”

“I want a princess room. All the princesses. Snow White and Cinderella and Mulan and Elsa and Belle and Merida and—”

“Time for sleep. Close your eyes...” He heard Chloe’s rich alto again, as though she whispered in his ear. She wants to know that you love her. “I love you, princess.”

“Love you, Daddy.” With a little sigh, Annabelle closed her eyes. He turned off the light and shut the door silently behind him on the way out.

Back downstairs, all was quiet. Manny had gone to Boulder for the night to visit his current lady friend. Quinn took up his vigil at the wall of windows in the living room. Up at Chloe’s the light remained on. He could see it glowing through the pale curtains that covered the slider in her bedroom. He pictured her, wearing that big pink shirt, propped up against the pillows in her bed, with her laptop or maybe a good book, which she would read effortlessly, turning the pages fast to find out what would happen next.

And then, well, after last night, he couldn’t help picturing her other ways—like, say, naked beneath him, moaning his name in that low, sexy voice that drove him crazy. He told himself it was a good thing that Manny wasn’t there to watch over Annabelle if he stepped out.

Because climbing that hill again?

Way too much on his mind.

* * *

“Crush, I gotta say it,” Manny grumbled. “I’m disappointed in you.”

It was Friday night, five nights since the one Quinn had spent with Chloe. Annabelle had been tucked safely in bed, the monsters chased away. Quinn and Manny sat out on the deck having a beer under the clear, starry sky. Quinn took a long, cool swallow and said nothing.

Manny wiggled his white eyebrows. They grew every which way and he never bothered to trim them. “Aren’t you gonna ask me why?”

Quinn gave a low chuckle. “We both know you’ll tell me anyway.”

Manny snorted. “Yes, I will. I’ve spent over a decade makin’ sure you learn what you need to know. No reason to change now.”

Quinn only looked at him, waiting.

Manny announced, “Romance is like everything else worth doin’ in life. You gotta follow up, put some energy into it, or it goes nowhere.”

“I don’t know why you’re telling me this.”

“I’ll give you a hint. Chloe Winchester. Only a fool would pass up his chance with a woman like that.”

“That’s given that he had a chance in the first place.”

“See there? That’s defeat talkin’. Quinn the Crusher, he spits in the face of defeat.”

“Quinn the Crusher retired, remember?”

“From the Octagon, sure. But not from life. Last time I checked, you still got a pulse.”

“Leave it alone, Manny.”

Manny did no such thing. “A woman like that, she lets you in her house in the middle of the night, you got a chance. You got more than a chance.”

“You need to stop sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong. Somebody’s likely to break it.”

“Won’t be the first time.” A raspy cackle. “Or the second or the third.” Manny swiped a gnarled, big-knuckled hand back over his buzz cut and then took a pull off the longneck in his other fist. “I will repeat. Momentum is everything.”

Quinn got up from his deck chair and headed for the French doors. “Night, Manny.”

“Where you going?”

“I’m halfway through A Tale of Two Cities.” He had it in audio book, and tried to get in a few chapters a night. Little by little, he was working his way through the great books of Western literature.

Manny wasn’t impressed with Quinn’s highbrow reading. “It’s just dandy, you improving your mind and all, but a man needs more than a book to keep him warm at night.”

There was no winning an argument with Manny. Quinn knew that from years of experience. “Lock up when you come in.” He stepped inside and shut the doors before the old fighter could get going again.

* * *

The following Monday, Chloe was selling new carpet to Agnes Oldfield, a pillar of the Justice Creek community and a longtime friend of her mother’s, when who should walk in the door but Manny Aldovino? Quinn’s little girl was with him, looking like a pint-size princess in an ankle-length dress with a hot pink top, a wide white sash at the waist and a gathered cotton skirt decorated with rickrack in a rainbow of bright colors.

Chloe ignored the fluttering sensation beneath her breastbone that came with being reminded of Quinn, and greeted the newcomers with a cheery “Hi, Manny. Annabelle. Have a look around. I’ll be right with you. Crayons and paper in the hutch by the window treatment display, in case Annabelle would like to color. And there’s coffee, too.” She gestured at the table not far from the door.

“Sounds good,” said Manny. He winked at Agnes. “How you doin’ there, Agnes?”

“Mr. Aldovino.” Agnes gave Manny an icy, dismissive nod. She’d always been a terrible snob and she looked down on anyone she didn’t consider of her social standing. Also, Quinn’s father’s first wife, Sondra, had been Agnes’s beloved niece. Agnes thoroughly disapproved of Quinn’s mother, Willow, and of all of Willow’s children. Now Agnes pointedly turned her back on Manny and said to Chloe, “Please continue, dear.”

Agnes’s attitude could use adjusting. But Chloe reminded herself that she needed the business and she couldn’t afford to offend a customer. She sent Manny an apologetic smile and waited on the old woman, who wanted new carpet for three rooms. She’d already settled on a quality plush in a pretty dove gray. Chloe accepted her deposit and gave her the number to call to arrange a time to have the spaces measured.

In her eighties, Agnes always dressed as though she’d been invited to tea with the Queen of England. She adjusted the giant, jeweled lizard brooch on her pink silk Chanel suit and said, “Thank you, my dear.”

“Have a great day, Agnes.”

The old lady sailed out the door.

“Wound a little tight, that one,” Manny remarked drily once Agnes was gone.

With a sigh and a shrug, Chloe joined the old man and the little girl at one of the worktables. “Now. What can I do for you?”

Annabelle glanced up from coloring an enormous, smiling yellow sun. Chloe saw Quinn in the shape of his daughter’s eyes and the directness of her gaze. Really, the little girl was downright enchanting, with that heart-shaped face and those chipmunk cheeks. Chloe felt a bittersweet tug at her heartstrings. Annabelle reminded her of the children she should have had.

But after that first time Ted punched her, having kids had never felt right. And Ted hadn’t really cared about children anyway. He wanted his wife focused on him.

“I want a princess room,” the little girl announced. Chloe gladly put away her grim thoughts of Ted to focus on the sprite in the darling dress. “Manny says you can make me one.”

“Yes, I can.”

“I want all the princesses. Belle and Merida and—” Manny chuckled and tapped the little girl on the arm. She glanced up at him. “But, Manny—”

“I know, I know. You want all the princesses and you’re gonna get ’em, but what did we talk about?”

Annabelle huffed. “To wait my turn and not be rude.”

The old man beamed. “That’s right.”

Annabelle leaned close to him, batted those big eyes and whispered, “But I want my princess room.”

“It’s yours. Promise. But the grown-ups have to talk now.”

“Okay.” Annabelle bent to her smiling sun again.

Manny spoke to Chloe then. “Quinn’s pretty busy getting the business off the ground.” His gym, Prime Sports and Fitness, was just down the street from Chloe’s showroom, at the intersection of West Central and Marmot Drive. “You know Quinn, don’t you?”

“Of course. We...went to school together.”

“Right. So Quinn takes care of the business. I look after Annabelle and run the house. You ever seen the inside of our house?”

Chloe blinked away a mental image of Quinn, up on his knees between her legs. Quinn, gloriously naked, his beautiful blue-green eyes burning down at her. “Erm, your house? No, I haven’t been inside.”

“It’s a good house, big rooms, great light, four thousand square feet. But built in the eighties, and looks like it. Too much ceramic tile and ugly carpet.”

“So it needs a little loving care?” she asked, trying to sound cool and professional and fearing the old man could see right inside her head to the X-rated images of Annabelle’s dad.

“What it needs is a boatload of cash and a good decorator. Starting on the ground floor and moving on up.”

“You want to redo every room?” That would be good for her. Very good. Not only for the money, but for Your Way’s reputation. She could put up a whole new website area, if Quinn and Manny agreed, showing the before and after of at least the main rooms. Their housing development was an upscale one. However, like Quinn’s house, most of the homes were more than twenty years old. Doing a full-on interior redesign always got the neighbors’ attention, got them thinking that their houses could stand a little sprucing up, too. She could end up with a lot of new business from the job Manny described. She asked, “What about the bathrooms and the kitchen?”

“Like I said, all of it. Every room.”

She couldn’t help wondering if Quinn was behind this? “What will you need from me? I’ll be happy to show you examples of my work—my portfolio? We can take a look at the website so you’ll have a better feel of what I can do. As for references, I—”

“Naw. I already looked at the website and I liked what I saw.”

Was she blushing? Manny had a gruff way about him, but he also knew how to turn on the charm. She really liked him. She liked his way with Annabelle, liked that teasing twinkle in his watery eyes. “Well, thank you.”

“I got a good feeling about you, Chloe. A real good feeling.” The old guy smiled, deepening the network of wrinkles on his craggy face. She really did wonder exactly how much he knew about her and Quinn and what had happened between them eight nights ago. He went on. “I’m thinking you should come over to the house. I’ll show you around, show you what I want done and then you can come up with some drawings and blueprints and all that. We can start right away, as soon as you’re ready to go...”

“Do you have an architect or any contractors you want to use?”

“Bravo Construction, if they give you a decent bid on the job—and if you’re okay with them. You’ll be running this, so you gotta be happy with the people you’re working with.”

Chloe nodded. “I know them, of course.” Quinn’s older brother, Garrett, ran the company, from what Chloe had heard. And his youngest sister, Nell, worked there, too. Garrett had been three years or so ahead of Chloe in school, so she didn’t remember all that much about him. And Nell was four years younger than Chloe. Still, Chloe vaguely remembered her. Gorgeous, and something of a wild child, wasn’t she? Never one to back down from a fight. She told Manny brightly, “They have a great reputation. I’ll ask them for a bid, absolutely.”

Manny winked at her. “Might as well try and keep it in the family.”

Chloe got the message. Manny did want her to use the Bravos. “Sounds good to me.” She made a mental note to go with them if at all possible.

Half an hour later, when Manny and Annabelle left, Chloe had an appointment at Quinn’s house for two in the afternoon the next day.

She was thrilled.

But then again, come on. It was too much of a coincidence. She suspected rough-edged old Manny of matchmaking, because it just didn’t seem like something Quinn would engineer. Quinn Bravo was more direct than that. If he wanted to see her again, he would just say so.

Wouldn’t he?

She had to admit she couldn’t be sure. Maybe Quinn hesitated to ask her out now, after she’d made such a point of that one night being the only night the two of them would ever share.

Maybe he knew nothing about Manny’s plans to tear their house apart and redo it, top to bottom.

Maybe, come to think of it, Quinn had no desire at all to ask her out. What if he ended up hating the idea that his daughter’s caregiver planned to hire the woman up the hill, with whom he’d had a one-night stand? What if he wanted nothing to do with her now? If she took the job, she would be in and out of his house for weeks.

That would be awful, if it turned out that Quinn really didn’t want her around. Here she was, gloating over this plum job that had magically fallen in her lap, when Quinn might know nothing about it—and not be the least bit happy when he found out.

By the time Tai arrived at one, Chloe had made up her mind.

Before she went to Quinn’s house tomorrow and consulted with Manny on the changes he wanted made, she needed to know for sure what Quinn really thought of her being there.

And the only way to know for sure was to ask the man himself.

Chapter Three

Chloe sent Tai to get takeout again. They shared lunch. And then she left Tai in charge and walked the two blocks to Prime Sports and Fitness, her heart hammering at her ribs all the way.

Quinn’s gym filled a three-story brick building directly across the street from the popular Irish-style pub, McKellan’s. Chloe hesitated outside on the sidewalk, ordering her pulse to slow down a little, noting the good location and the clean, modern lines of the building itself. There were lots of windows and various athletic activities visible from the street. In one room, some kind of martial arts class was in progress. Another room took up most of the second floor and held rows of cardio equipment, with people in exercise gear working out on stationary bikes, treadmills and elliptical trainers.

She stood there staring up for a couple of minutes at least. Until she finally had to accept that her nervousness hadn’t faded at all. In fact, it was worse. So she smoothed the front of her narrow white pants, tugged on the hem of the light, short blazer she wore over a featherweight black tank, squared her shoulders and went in.

The gorgeous, hardbody brunette at the front desk said that Quinn was just finishing up leading a boxing conditioning class. Chloe could wait in his office. It shouldn’t be long.

So Chloe sat in his office, where the walls were lined with pictures of Quinn in his fighting days and more than one big, shiny trophy stood on display. She had become absolutely certain that she’d made a horrible mistake in coming here and was just about to rise and bolt from the building, when the door swung open and there he was, looking sweaty and spectacular in gray boxing shorts and a muscle-hugging T.

* * *

“Hello, Chloe.” Quinn thought he’d never seen anyone so smooth and beautiful, in those perfect white pants and pointy little shoes, not a single golden hair out of place.

“Quinn.” She sounded breathless. He liked that. And she bounced to her feet. “I... How are you?” She held out her hand.

“Good. Real good.” He stepped forward and took it, already regretting he hadn’t run to the locker room and grabbed a quick shower after class. Her slim fingers were cool and dry in his sweaty paw.

But she didn’t seem to mind. She held on and he held on and they stood and stared at each other. She looked a little stunned, but in a good way. And he had no doubt his expression mirrored hers.

Finally, she said in a breathless rush, “I need... Well, there’s something I really have to discuss with you.”

“Sure.” He made himself release her hand and went back to shut the door as she returned to the chair. “Something to drink? Juice? Tea?” When she shook her head, he slid in behind his desk and gestured for her to sit back down. “Okay. What’s going on?”

“I, uh, had a visit from Manny and Annabelle today, at my design showroom. Manny offered me a really good project, redoing all the rooms in your house.” She paused to swallow and smooth her already perfect hair. “I agreed to meet him at your house tomorrow in the afternoon to go over the changes he wants. If he still wants to hire me, I’ll work out the numbers and put together a contract.”

This was all news to Quinn. But not bad news. He asked cautiously, “And this is a problem somehow?”

“Well, after Manny and Annabelle left, I started wondering if you even knew that he was planning to hire me. I thought I should, you know, check with you, make certain you’re on board with Manny’s plan...” Her voice trailed off.

He watched her try not to fidget. And the longer he sat there looking at her, the more he came to grips with the fact that the one night he’d had with her wasn’t enough. Luckily for him, her signal came through loud and clear: she felt the same way.

No, he had no time for romance.

But for a woman like Chloe, he might just have to make time.

Should he be pissed off at Manny for taking the situation into his battered old hands? Probably. Manny had no business butting in.

But Quinn had just spent a week keeping himself from climbing the hill to get to her. Manny’s bold move had brought her right to him. Pissed off? Hardly. Downright grateful was more like it.

Not that he’d ever admit that to Manny.

A small, embarrassed sound escaped her. “Oh, God. You didn’t know, did you?”

“Doesn’t matter. Manny’s in charge of the house and we agreed when we bought the place that it would need major upgrades. It’s his call who he hires to make that happen.”

“So you’re okay with it—with me, working in your house?”

He was more than just okay with it. “Sounds like a good idea to me—I mean, if you’re willing.”

She gave him one of those glowing smiles that could light up the blackest night. “Well, then. Yes. I’m willing, definitely.” She got up. “So, then, I guess I should be...”

He couldn’t let her go. Not yet. He pushed back his chair. “Now that you’re here, how ’bout I show you around?”

“The gym, you mean?”

“That’s right.”

“Yes. Yes, I would like that.”

“Well, okay, then. This way...”

* * *

Chloe followed Quinn past the reception area, into a series of wood-floored classrooms with mirrored walls and different kinds of equipment stacked in the corners. In one, a fitness ball class was in progress. In another, the participants were paired up for intense stretching. They went upstairs to the second floor and the giant cardio room as well as a room with all kinds of weight machines and one with boxing equipment and two rings.

He explained that Prime Fitness tried to offer something for everyone. “We have martial arts for all ages, boxing, kickboxing, general fitness and yoga classes...”

She listened and nodded, just glad to be walking along beside him, glad that he seemed to want to keep her there longer, to be drawing the moments out before she left.

On the top floor there was a beginning women’s self-defense class in progress. They watched through the observation window as a big guy in a padded suit tried to take down a woman about Chloe’s size. The woman shouted and fought him off violently, kicking and slugging at him, spinning away and sprinting off as soon as she got the guy to let go of her.

Watching that made Chloe’s mouth go dry and her palms feel clammy. It made her think of Ted and how she ought to be better prepared if anyone ever hit her or threatened her again.

“What do you think?” Quinn asked.

She turned to him, met those wonderful, watchful eyes. “I think I might want to take a class like this.”

There was a bench a few feet away. He backed up and sat down. She left the viewing window and sat beside him.

He said, “This class is wrapping up. A new one will start next week, and there’s an evening class, too. Starts in two weeks. It’s an eight-week course, one two-hour class per week.”

“I’ll be fighting off guys in padded suits for eight weeks?”

He shook his head. “No. Initially there are sessions on staying out of violent confrontations in the first place.”

“How?”

He chuckled. “What? You want an outline of the course?”

“Can you give me one?”

“You’re serious?”

“I am, yes.”

He watched her for a long moment. And then he shrugged. “Well, all right. The class starts with a section on the nature of predators. Basically there are two types. Resource and process. Resource predators want your stuff. Process predators are in it for the power and the thrill. They want to mess you over. They actually enjoy committing crimes. The class shows you how to identify what kind of scumbag you’re faced with and how to deal with him. Next comes a study of avoidance, because the best option is always steering clear of any situation where you could get hurt. After avoidance, there’s a section on deescalating conflict. If you can’t escape trouble before it happens, the second-best option is to diffuse it. And finally you’ll learn how to fight off an attack.”

“Wow,” she said, and wondered if any guy ever looked as good in shorts and a T-shirt as Quinn did. And he smelled so good, too. Clean. Just sweaty enough to be exciting...

He grunted. “See? More information than you needed or wanted.”

She shook her head. “That was exactly what I wanted to know. And how do you know all that? Do you teach this kind of class yourself?”

“No. But I’ve been through every class that we offer here. I run the place. It’s my job to know what I’m selling. I want to franchise this operation. This location will be the model for Prime Sports and Fitness gyms all over the country.”

“You dream big.”

“Hey. Balls to the wall. It’s the only way to go.”

She made a decision. “I’m taking the next evening class.”

“Am I a salesman, or what?” He got up. “Come on.” He put his big hand at the small of her back. Such a light touch to wreak such total havoc through every quivering cell in her body. “We’ll sign you up.”

At the front desk, Quinn tried to comp her the class. She shook her head and whipped out her checkbook. Once she’d paid for the course, he walked her out the door.

He caught her arm as the door eased shut behind them. “So, Chloe...”

She was achingly aware of him, so close, his big, warm fingers wrapped lightly around her upper arm. He walked her forward several feet along the sidewalk and then pulled her gently around to face him.

“Yeah?” she asked low, her voice barely a whisper.

He stepped in closer and spoke for her ears alone. “The other night...?”

Her breath tangled in her throat. “Yeah?”

“You said just for that night, just that once. But you’re here and I’m looking in those fine blue eyes and I’m wondering, did you really mean that?”

Her stupid throat had clutched up tight. She swallowed convulsively, and then shook her head hard.

His brow rumpled in a frown, but the hint of a smile seemed to tug on his mouth. “I’m still not sure what you’re telling me here.”

And somehow she found her voice again. “Sorry...”

“Nothing to be sorry for. You just say it right out loud, whatever your answer is. I can take it, I promise you.”

She cleared her throat to get her going. “Ahem. That night, I needed to find a way to give myself permission to do something I wanted to do but had never done before. That night, I needed to think of it as just that one time and never again. But since then...”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, Quinn. I wish I hadn’t said what I said. Because I’ve been thinking about you a lot. And it’s really good to see you again.”

Those fine eyes were gleaming. “Yeah?”

And she was eagerly nodding, her head bouncing up and down like a bobblehead doll’s.

“So, then...” He started walking backward toward the doors.

She resisted the urge to reach out and stop him—and also the one that demanded she follow him. Instead, she held her ground and asked hopefully, “So, then, what?”

He stopped at the doors. “How ’bout Friday night? You and me. Dinner.”

“Dinner...” How could one simple word hold so much promise?

“Yeah.” He was definitely smiling now. “You know, like people do.”

“I would like that.” She knew she wore a giant, silly grin. And somehow she had gone on tiptoe. Her body felt lighter than air.

“Pick you up at seven?”

She settled back onto her heels and nodded. “Seven is great.”

A trim, fortyish woman in workout clothes approached the doors. Quinn opened one and ushered her in. Then, with a final nod in Chloe’s direction, he went in, too.

That lighter-than-air feeling? It stayed with her. Her feet barely touched the ground the whole way back to the showroom.

Strange how everything could change for the better in the course of one afternoon.

All at once, the world, so cruel to her in recent years, was a good and hopeful place again. Suddenly everything looked brighter.

Yeah, okay. It was just a date. But it was a date with a man who thrilled her—and made her feel safe and protected and cherished and capable, all at the same time.

* * *

That night, Chloe made chocolate chip cookies. Once they’d cooled, she packed them up into two bright decorator tins. She took them to the showroom the next morning. One she offered at the coffee table.

The other she carried with her when she went to meet with Manny at Quinn’s house after lunch.

“Cookies!” Annabelle nodded her approval. “I like cookies.” She sent Manny a regretful glance. “Manny’s cookies are not very good.”

Manny told Chloe, “Never was a baker—or that much of a cook, when you come right down to it. I enjoy cooking, though. Too bad nobody appreciates my efforts.” He wiggled his bushy eyebrows at Annabelle. “And what do you say when someone brings you really good cookies?”

“Thank you, Chloe.”

“You’re welcome.”

She turned those sweet brown eyes on Manny again. “Can I have one now?”

“That could be arranged.” Manny led them to the kitchen, which had appliances that had been state-of-the-art back in the late eighties, a fruit-patterned wallpaper border up near the ceiling and acres of white ceramic tile. Annabelle made short work of two cookies and a glass of milk, after which she wanted to take Chloe up to her room.

Chloe looked to Manny. The old guy shrugged. “Don’t keep her up there all day,” he said to the little girl.

“Manny, I want all the princesses, but it won’t take that long.” She reached right up and grabbed Chloe’s hand, at which point Chloe’s heart pretty much melted. “Okay, Chloe. Let’s go.”

After half an hour with Quinn’s daughter, Chloe knew exactly which princesses Annabelle wanted represented in her new room, as well as her favorite colors. They went back downstairs, and Chloe spent a couple of hours with Manny, going through the house, bottom to top, talking hard and soft surfaces, color choices, style preferences and the benefits of knocking out a wall or two. Chloe jotted notes and took pictures of existing furniture and fixtures that would be included in the new design.

Before she left at four-thirty, she promised to crunch the numbers. The contract would be ready for his and Quinn’s approval early next week.

“Give me a call,” said Manny. “We can decide then whether to meet here or at your showroom.”

“That’ll work.”

Annabelle urged her to “Come back and see me soon, Chloe. And bring cookies.”

Chloe promised that she would. She drove to the showroom, let Tai go home and got to work on the contract, planning out the estimated costs, room by room. At six, she closed up and headed for her house, a big, fat smile on her face and a thousand ideas for the redesign swirling in her brain.

She parked in her detached garage and was halfway along the short breezeway to the front door when she caught sight of the gorgeous bouquet of orchids and roses waiting in a clear, square vase on the porch. It must be from Quinn. The arrangement was so simple and lovely and the gesture so thoughtful, she let out a happy cry just at the sight of it.

Okay, it was a little silly to be so giddy at his thoughtfulness. But she hadn’t had flowers in so long. Ted used to buy them for her, and since the divorce, well, she had no desire to buy them for herself. To her, a gorgeous bouquet of flowers just reminded her of Ted and all the ways she’d messed up her life. But if Quinn gave her flowers, she could start to see a beautiful arrangement in a whole new light.

She disarmed her alarm and unlocked the door—and then scooped up the vase and carried it in.

Dropping her purse on the entry bench, she took the vase straight to the kitchen peninsula, where she set it carefully down. The card had a red amaryllis on the front and the single word, Bloom. Bloom was the shop that belonged to Quinn’s sister, Jody.

Whipping the little card off its plastic holder, she flipped it open and read Beautiful flowers always remind me of you. I hate that it went so wrong for us. I miss you.

Ted

Chapter Four

“No!” Chloe shouted right out loud, not even caring that she sounded like some crazy person, yelling at thin air. “No, you do not get to do that. You do not.” She tore the note in half and then in half again and she dropped it on the floor and stomped on it for good measure. They were divorced, for God’s sake. He had a new wife. And all she wanted from him for now and forever was never to see or hear from him again.

Her heart racing with a sick kind of fury that he’d dared to encroach on her new life where he had no business being, Chloe whipped the beautiful flowers from the vase. Dripping water across the counter and onto the floor, too, she dropped them in the trash compactor, shoved it shut and turned the motor on. The compactor rumbled. She felt way too much satisfaction as the machine crushed the bright blooms to a pulp.

Once the flowers were toast, she poured the water from the vase into the sink, whipped the compactor open again and dropped the vase on top of the mashed flowers. She ran the motor a second time, grinning like a madwoman when she heard that loud, scary pop that meant the vase was nothing but shards of broken glass. After that, she picked up the little bits of card, every one, threw them in with the shattered vase and the pulped flowers, took the plastic bag out of the compactor, lugged it out to the trash bin and threw it in.

Good riddance to bad trash.

She spent a while stewing, considering calling Ted and giving him a large piece of her mind.

But no. She wanted nothing to do with him and she certainly didn’t want to make contact with him again. That might just encourage him.

She wondered if the flowers and the creepy note could be considered the act of a stalker.

But then she reminded herself that Ted and his bride, Larissa, lived more than a thousand miles away in San Diego. It was one thing for Ted to have his assistant send her flowers just to freak her out, but something else again for him to show up on her doorstep in person.

Wasn’t going to happen. He was just being a jerk, an activity at which he excelled.

God. She had married him. How could she have been such an utter, complete fool?

Back in the house, she changed into jeans and a tank top. Then she took her time cooking an excellent dinner of fresh broiled trout with lemon butter, green beans and slivered almonds and her favorite salad of field greens, blueberries, Gorgonzola cheese and toasted walnuts, with a balsamic vinaigrette.

When it was ready, she set the table with her best dishes, lit a candle, poured herself a glass of really nice sauvignon blanc and sat down. She ate slowly, savoring every delicious bite.

A little later, she took a long scented bath and put on a comfy sleep shirt and shorts. Even after the bath, she was still buzzing with anger at the loser she’d once had the bad judgment to marry. Streaming a movie or reading a book was not going to settle her down. She needed a serious distraction.

So she went to the cozy room on the lower floor that she used as a home office and lost herself in the plans for Quinn’s house. Within a few minutes of sitting down at her desk, the only thing on her mind was the rooms taking shape in her imagination—and on her sketch pad. And the numbers coming together for each room, for the project as a whole. She worked for hours and hardly noticed the time passing.

When she finally went back upstairs to the main floor, it was almost midnight. Time for bed.

But she didn’t go to bed. It was cool out that evening. So she put on a big sweater over her sleep shirt, pulled on a pair of fluffy pink booties and went out onto her deck. It was something she had not done after dark since the night Quinn spent in her bed.

But she was doing it tonight.

She padded to the deck railing and stared down at Quinn’s house.

Was she actually expecting him to be watching, waiting for the moment when she wandered out under the stars?

Not really. It just felt...reassuring somehow. To gaze down at his house, to know that she would see him again, would share dinner with him on Friday night.

When the French doors opened and he emerged, she let out a laugh of pure delight and waved to signal him up.

He didn’t even hesitate, just went on down the steps at the side of his deck and forged up the hill. She went to meet him at the top of her stairs, feeling breathless and wonderful.

Tonight, he wore ripped old jeans, a white T-shirt that seemed to glow in the dark and the same moccasins he’d been wearing that other night. He said, “Love those furry boots.” When she laughed, he added, “I was getting worried you might never come outside.”

“And I was absolutely certain there was no way you might be glancing up to see if I was looking down for you.” She held out her hand. He took it. His skin was warm, his palm callous. Just his touch made her body sing. “Come sit with me?”

He looked at her as though she were the only other person in the world. “Whatever you want, Chloe.”

She tugged him over to the two chairs they’d sat in that other night and pulled him down beside her.

Silence.

But it was a good silence. They just sat there, staring out at the clear night and the distant mountains. A slight wind came up, rustling the nearby pines. And an owl hooted off in the shadows somewhere between his house and hers.

Finally, she said, “I met with Manny. I think it went well.”

“He says so, too.”

“And I’m in love with your daughter.”

He chuckled, a rough and tempting sound. “She has that effect on people. Manny’s tough, but Annabelle still manages to wrap him around her little finger. Truth is she rules the house. We just try to keep up with her.”

She looked over at him. “Has she asked you about her mother again?”

“Not yet.” He met her eyes through the shadows. “I know, I know. Wait until she asks. And then don’t load her up with more information than she’s ready for.”

“That’s the way.” She thought of the flowers she’d crushed in the compactor—and then pushed them out of her mind. Why ruin a lovely moment by bringing Ted into it?

Instead, she asked him how he had met Manny. He explained that the old ex-fighter had been his first professional trainer. “I met him at the first gym I walked into after leaving home. Downtown Gym, it was called, in Albuquerque. Manny ran the place and worked with the fighters who trained there. We got along. When I moved on, he went with me. I had a lot of trainers. And over time, Manny became more like my manager, I guess you could say. And kind of a cross between a best friend and a dad.” He shot her a warning look. “But don’t tell him I said that.”

She grinned. “Why not?”

“He already thinks he knows what’s best for me. If he ever heard I said I thought of him as a father, he’d never shut up with the advice and instructions.”

She softly advised, “But I’ll bet it would mean the world to him to know how you really feel.”

“He knows. Hearing it out loud would only make him more impossible to live with.” Quinn faked a dangerous scowl. “So keep your mouth shut.”

She laughed and held up both hands. “I swear I’ll never say a word.”

“Good.”

“So, how did he end up back here in Justice Creek with you and Annabelle?”

“I don’t think either of us really considered a different option. He moved in with me when Annabelle was a baby, to help out.”

When Annabelle was a baby...

So the little girl had been with her dad from the first? What had happened to the mother, the one Quinn said Annabelle would most likely never meet?

So many questions.

But Chloe had such a good feeling about the man beside her. She trusted him to tell her everything in his own good time.

He said, “When I decided to retire from the Octagon last year, Manny was already taking care of Annabelle full-time.” Chloe knew what the Octagon was: the eight-sided ring in which Ultimate Fighting Championship mixed-martial-arts fighters competed. During the rough years when she was still married to Ted, she’d watched more than one of Quinn’s televised UFC fights. It had lifted her spirits to see how far the wild, angry boy from her hometown had come. He continued, “I asked Manny to stick with me when I moved back home. He agreed right off, said he supposed it was about time he settled down. Annabelle’s a handful, but so far he’s managing.”

“From what I’ve seen, he’s great with her. He’s patient, encourages her to express herself and make some of her own decisions—but he stays in charge, too.”

“Yeah. He’s a champ with her, all right...” Quinn’s voice kind of trailed off and there was another silence, one somehow not as comfortable as the first.

She glanced over at him again and found him watching her. “Whatever it is, you might as well just say it.”

“I got a question, but I don’t want to freak you out.”

An unpleasant shiver traveled down the backs of her arms and she thought of Ted again. Because if her freaking out could be involved, it probably had to do with Ted.

Then again, how would Quinn know that? She’d mentioned her ex once, on the night that Quinn came to her bed. What she’d told him had been far from flattering to Ted, but she’d said nothing about how thinking of him made her want to crush flowers and break expensive vases.

“Ask me,” she said. “I can take it.” The words came out sounding so confident. She was proud of them.

“All right, then. Does your mama know you’re going out to dinner with me?”

Her mother. Of course. “No.”

“It’s Justice Creek, Chloe.”

“Meaning she will know?”

“I’d say the odds are better than fifty-fifty, wouldn’t you?”

Chloe kept her gaze steady on his. It was no hardship. Looking at him made her think of hot sex. And safety. And that combination really worked for her. “That girl—the mama’s girl I was in high school?”

“Yeah?”

She slanted him a teasing glance. “You’re not even going to argue that I was never a mama’s girl?”

“Hey. You called it, not me.”

And she made a low, rueful noise in her throat. “Yes, I did. And I was. But I’m not anymore. I tried living my life my mother’s way. It didn’t work for me. I’m all grown up now and my mother doesn’t get to tell me what to do or whom to spend my time with.”

One side of his beautiful mouth curved up then. It was a smirk, heavy on the irony, more like the old, dangerous, edgy Quinn from back in high school than the one she’d been getting to know lately. “Whom. Always so ladylike.”

“Don’t tease me. I’m serious.”

His smirk vanished. “So you’re admitting that your mother’s not gonna like it, you and me spending time together?”

“What I’m telling you is that she doesn’t have a say, so it doesn’t matter whether she likes it or not.”

He reached out his hand between their chairs. She put hers in it, and he lifted it to that wonderful mouth of his. Hot shivers cascaded down her arm and straight to the core of her, just at the feel of his soft lips against her skin. Then he rubbed his chin where his lips had been, teasing her with the rough brush of beard stubble, reminding her of their one night together, making her long to jump up and drag him inside.

But she didn’t.

A moment later, he let go of her hand. He started talking again—about his plans for Prime Sports. She told him how much she appreciated the chance to rework the interiors at his house and then she shared with him some of the ideas she and Manny had discussed for upgrading the kitchen and opening up the living-room space.

A couple of hours passed as they sat there talking quietly under the waning moon. She even told him a little about her failed marriage—no, not about the flowers, and not about the times Ted had struck her. This thing with Quinn was so new and sweet and heady. Sharing ugly stories about her ex would definitely dim the romantic glow. Instead, she tried to explain how disappointed she was in the way things had turned out.

“It hurts so much,” she confessed, “when something that should have been so right somehow goes all wrong. And I feel... I don’t know, less, I guess. Shamed, that I didn’t make better choices.”

He regarded her for several seconds in that steady way he had. “You said the other night that the guy was abusive...”

She held his gaze as she shook her head.

He frowned. “I’ll need more than a head shake to get what you’re trying to tell me.”

She let out a hard sigh. “Oh, Quinn. It’s a beautiful night. And you’re here beside me. It’s good, you and me, talking like this.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“I probably shouldn’t even have brought up my divorce.”

“Yeah, you should. Whatever you want to tell me, that’s what I want to hear.”

“That’s just it. I really don’t want to go into any of that old garbage right now.”

He gave her another of those long, thoughtful looks. And then, “All right.”

And just like that, he let it go.

How amazing. He let it go. She’d grown up with a mother who never let anything go. And Ted? He would hound a person to hell and back to find out something he wanted to know.

But not Quinn. She said she didn’t want to talk about it—and he just let it go. He said, “Whatever that story is, whatever happened in the past, you’re going to be fine.”

She made a low, rueful sound. “You’re sure about that, huh?”

And he nodded. “You’re brave and beautiful, Chloe—and not only on the outside. You’re beautiful in your heart, where it matters. I admire the hell out of you.”

Tears burned in her eyes at such praise. She blinked them away and whispered a soft, sincere “Thank you...”

By then, she really wanted to take him inside and spend a few more thrilling hours in his arms. But she felt somehow shyer now than that other night—shy and tentative.

And other than kissing her hand that one time, he’d made no move on her.

It was two in the morning when he said good-night. She stood at the railing watching him jog down the hill to his house, and felt disappointed in herself that she’d let him go without so much as a single shared kiss.

But then, he had asked her out. She would see him again on Friday night...

* * *

Friday evening, Quinn arrived five minutes early. “Better grab a scarf,” he warned.

She ran and got one, then followed him out across the breezeway and around the garage to the side parking space, where a gorgeous old convertible Buick coupe waited—top down, of course. With sidewalls so white they were blinding even in the shade.

“Wow.” She couldn’t resist gliding her palm over the glossy maroon paint. “It looks brand-new.” The bright chrome gleamed in the fading early-evening light. It had round vents on the front fenders and an enormous, toothy grille.

“It’s one of Carter’s rebuilds. A ’49 Buick Roadmaster.” Carter, Quinn’s oldest brother, designed and built custom cars. “I saw it at his shop a couple of weeks ago. Don’t know what came over me, but I wanted it. So I bought it.” He opened the door for her. She slid in onto the snow-white, tuck-and-roll bench seat. “Had him put seat belts in it, along with a decent sound system and power windows.” He was leaning on the open door, bending close to her, his gray suit jacket already off and slung over his shoulder, hanging by a finger.

She got a hint of his aftershave, which was manly and fresh. He looked so good, in a white shirt and gray slacks, with a dark blue tie. She thought about kissing him, and turned away to run her hand over the leather seat in an effort to distract herself from a sudden, vivid memory of how pliant and hot his lips felt pressed to hers. “It’s gorgeous,” she said, altogether too breathlessly.

“Yeah.” The single word seemed to dance along her nerve endings. She looked back up at him, and he grinned at her. And she just knew that he knew what she’d been thinking. “You look beautiful,” he said, his gaze taking in her little black dress and her double strand of pearls that her dad had given her when she graduated from high school. “So smooth.”

“Um, what?”

“You, Chloe. You’re smooth.”

“That’s good, I hope?”

“That is excellent. Buckle up now.” He shut the door as she tied her scarf over her hair.

He took her to the Sylvan Inn, which was a few miles southeast of town nestled in among the pines. The inn had a quiet atmosphere and great food.

“We used to come here when I was little,” she said, once they were settled with their tall goblets of ice water, hot bread and giant menus in the traditional Sylvan Inn blue leather cover with the fancy gold lettering on the front. “For special occasions. My dad loves their hammer steaks. So do I, as a matter of fact.”

“Good memories, then?”

“Very good.” She glanced up at him—and spotted a familiar face across the dining room. Chloe smiled. The tall, thin blonde smiled right back. She gave Chloe a jaunty wave and disappeared behind a potted plant.

“What’s up?” Quinn asked.

Chloe brushed a hand over the crisp white cuff of Quinn’s shirt. “Don’t look now, but we’ve been spotted by Monique Hightower. Did you know she works here?” They’d gone to school with Monique. The woman never met a secret she wouldn’t share with the whole town.

“Uh-oh.” He pretended to look worried. “Like I said the other night, it’s Justice Creek. You go out with me, everyone in town is bound to know.”

Now she brushed the back of his hand, which was warm and tan and dusted lightly with brown hair. It felt so good to touch him. She had to watch herself or she’d be all over the poor guy. “I hope you don’t mind that the gossip mill will be churning.”

“Me?” He gave a low chuckle. “I think I can deal with it.”

“Such a brave man...”

They shared one of those looks. Long. Intimate. Wonderful. Finally, he said, “Read your menu, Chloe.”

She closed the blue folder. “I did.”

“You know what you want?”

“Oh, yes, I do.” She said it slowly, with a lazy smile.

He warned low, “Keep looking at me like that and we won’t make it through the appetizer.”

But they did. They had it all. Appetizers, a nice bottle of cabernet, salad, hammer steaks with cheesy potatoes and a decadent chocolate dessert. And they took their sweet time about it.

Monique dropped by their table around nine, just after they’d been served their coffee and dessert. “Chloe. Quinn. What a surprise.”

Quinn asked, “So, how’s life treating you, Monique?”

“I’m getting by.” Monique tossed her topknot of curly blond hair and stuck her hands in the pockets of her black service apron. “When did you two start spending time together?”

Chloe sipped her coffee. “This is our first date. I’m having a fabulous time.”

Quinn said, “Chloe always had a thing for me, since way back in high school.”

Monique blinked three times in rapid succession. “Really?”

Chloe stifled a silly giggle and said with great seriousness. “I finally got up the nerve to tell him.” And to show him, as a matter of fact. “And then he asked me out. The rest could be history. I mean, if I play my cards right.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “But, Monique...”

Monique leaned a little closer. “What?”

“Don’t say a word to anyone.”

“Oh. Never. I would never tell a soul...” Translation: she couldn’t wait to tell the world. Monique asked about Prime Sports, and Quinn gave her a card good for a free visit and one class of her choice. And then she turned to Chloe again, her dark eyes sharply gleaming. “I was so surprised when you moved back to town. I mean, we all knew you were headed for great things. No one ever would have guessed you’d end up running back home to Justice Creek. I’m just so sorry that things didn’t work out for you.”

Six months ago, Chloe would have been shamed and infuriated by Monique’s barbed words and pretended concern. Or at the very least, embarrassed. At the moment, though, all she felt was amused. “Thanks, Monique. You’re all heart.”

Monique sighed heavily. Across the room, the manager who’d greeted them when they arrived had his eye on her. “Well, good to see you two. Gotta go.” She scuttled off.

Chloe took a bite of her delicious dessert. “Everything we told her will be all over town. Twenty-four hours—thirty-six, max.”

Quinn leaned closer and spoke low. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that you had a thing for me in high school.”

She met his eyes directly and she couldn’t keep from grinning. “Are you kidding? I loved it. Not to mention it was the truth. If Monique Hightower’s going to be spreading rumors about us, they might as well be true.”

* * *

After their slow, wonderful meal, they returned to Chloe’s house.

Quinn eased the gorgeous old car into the space beside the garage and turned off the engine. “Are you up for a walk around the block?”

“Sure.” It was a nice night. “A walk would be great. We’ll work off some of that amazing dessert.”

He followed her inside and waited while she changed into flats. Then off they went, down the front steps and out to the street, where they strolled beneath the silver crescent of the moon.

Their development, Haltersham Heights, had no sidewalks. The houses were set back from the street, among the trees. Quinn stopped at a lot three doors down and across the street from Chloe’s. It had a For Sale sign at the curb with a big SOLD plate stuck on it. The large contemporary log and natural stone house could be seen, windows gleaming, through the trees.

“The sold sign went up a few weeks ago,” she said. “About time. This one’s been on the market for months.”

“I know. I bought it. Got a great price, too.”

She laughed—and then she realized he wasn’t kidding. “Wait a minute. You’re serious?”

“I am.” He put his hand over her fingers, where they curled around his arm. She’d barely had time to enjoy the flare of pleasure at how good his touch felt, when he said, “I bought it before I knew you would be fixing up my house. But it should work out great. We’re closing on this one Monday, so we can move in here next week. We’ll stay here while you renovate the other one—and not to get ahead of myself or anything, but once we move back to our house, you can start on this one. It’s the same story as the other one. Solid construction, but it’s begging to be brought into the twenty-first century. When you’re finished, I’ll sell it.”

She only stared.

“Chloe, your mouth’s hanging open.”

“And why wouldn’t it be? You’re too much.”

“Too much of what, exactly?”

“Well, let’s see. Quinn Bravo, world-champion cage fighter, fitness empire builder, real estate mogul...”

“That all sounds pretty good to me.”

“You must have made a fortune as a fighter, huh?”

“I did all right. The payout for winning a championship fight is a hefty one. And I landed some big-time endorsements, too.”

“I think I’m speechless, Quinn.”

He gave her his high school bad-boy smirk. “You’ll get over it. And the truth is, Prime Sports will never make much money unless my franchise plan pays off. The housing market’s rebounding nicely, though. I can make money in real estate.”

She admitted softly, “Start-ups aren’t easy, and I say that from experience. If you hire me for both of your houses, it will make a big difference for me. I really do need the business.”

“So you’ve got it. Everybody wins.”

She made a low, disbelieving sound. “As simple as that?”

His eyebrows drew together. “Why not?”

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you just because you, um, like me...”

He framed her face in his big, calloused hands. “Look at me.”

“Oh, I am.” She stared straight up into those soft aquamarine eyes and never wanted to look away. “I really am.”

“Are you telling me you can’t do the job?”

She stiffened and answered with heat, “Of course I can do the job.”

He chuckled then. “See? We got no problem here.”

Standing there in the darkness of her quiet street with his warm, rough hands cradling her cheeks, she decided he was right. “No, I guess we don’t.”

He lowered his head, until his sexy, plump lips were a hairbreadth from hers. He had lips like a girl’s, but the rest of him was all man. “I got a request, though.”

She longed for his kiss. Her heart was beating slow and deep. Sparks flared across her skin. And low in her belly, she seemed to be melting. “Oh, God. Anything.”

“Work with my brother’s company, Bravo Construction?”

She made herself focus on what he’d just asked of her—and it wasn’t easy, with those lips of his so close.

Use his brother’s company...

She’d left that possibility open-ended when she talked to Manny. But really, why not? Bravo Construction had a great reputation. She felt confident she could develop a solid working relationship with them. It could be good for everyone. “All right.”

His warm breath touched her lips. The guy was driving her crazy. “I already talked to my sister Nell—just paving the way. Nell says she’ll fit the project in the schedule and they can start work a week from Monday.”

“That’s quick.”

“Yeah. And I like to keep it in the family if I can.”

“I get that.” She tried really hard not to sound as breathless as she felt. “No problem. Bravo Construction it is.”

“Good, then.”

“Quinn...”

“Hmm?” A teasing light shone in his eyes. She realized he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

And she knew that she couldn’t take it anymore. She only had to lift herself up a fraction higher to get what she wanted. So she did. And it worked.

At last, he was kissing her.

* * *

“Chloe...” Quinn whispered her name right into her pretty mouth.

And then he let go of her arms—in order to pull her up nice and close. She tasted so good. Hot and wet.

And all of her, every graceful, sweetly scented inch of her, was so, so smooth.

Worth the endless, twelve-day wait since the last time he’d had his mouth on hers.

He lifted his head an inch. She let out a tiny moan, as though she couldn’t bear not to have their mouths fused together. He slanted his head the other way and drank that moan right off her sweet, sweet lips.

Those slender arms glided up his chest and then her soft hands were stroking his collar, caressing his neck, her slim fingers threading up into the close-trimmed hair at the nape of his neck. He scraped his tongue along the smooth edges of her teeth, pushing deeper, into all that wet sweetness.

Coffee. Wine. Chocolate.

Chloe.

There had been women in his life, maybe too many. Especially when he was first making his name in the Octagon. Women liked fighters. And they particularly liked fighters who won. For a while there he’d gotten carried away with all the attention. Beautiful women everywhere he turned, his for the taking.

But even an endless chain of gorgeous women got old after a while. He started to see that to most of them, he was just a cheap thrill. And he wanted to be more than that to someone.

He found he wanted heart in a woman. He wanted someone he could talk to. He wanted real, gut-deep integrity. He wanted truth. He wanted a powerful connection.

Oh, and yeah. Brains and a sense of humor, too.

It wasn’t that there weren’t women out there with all that. It was just that most of them had no interest in a guy who still couldn’t read past about fourth-grade level, a guy who got bloodied and battered for a living. Plus, when he was fighting, it ate up his life. He didn’t have time to go looking for the one for him.

And then along came Annabelle. Her life, her happiness, her chance to grow up and take on the world—suddenly that was what mattered to him. To raise his little girl up right was more than enough. He didn’t need that special woman, after all.

Or so he’d believed until twelve nights ago.

Until Chloe led him into her house and straight to her bed.

Chloe.

She had it all—everything he’d already accepted he wasn’t going to find. And no one had ever tasted so good.

Reluctantly, he broke the kiss.

She stared up at him, eyes full of stars. “Come back to my house? Be with me tonight?”

“Damn, Chloe. I was afraid you’d never ask.”

* * *

Her belly all aflutter with anticipation, her pulse a rushing sound in her ears and her cheeks feeling way hotter than they should, Chloe ushered Quinn in her front door and then turned to engage the lock and reset the alarm. “You can hang your jacket there.” She gestured at the coatrack. He hung up his jacket, and she grabbed his hand. “This way...”

But he held back, tugging her close, into the hard, hot circle of his arms. He kissed her, a slow one that had her knees going weak and a meltdown happening in her core.

However, when he lifted his head that time, his eyes were way too serious.

She frowned, suddenly struck with concern for whatever might be bothering him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He pulled her close again. And he whispered in her ear, “I want to take all your clothes off and see you naked. I want to kiss every inch of you.”

She sighed. “We are definitely on the same page about that.”

“But...”

She pushed him away enough that she could see his eyes. “Oh, no. There is something. What?”

“Don’t look so worried.” With his big thumb, he smoothed the scrunched place between her eyebrows. “It’s nothing bad. I just have some things I want to say first.”

Would she rather be kissing him? Absolutely. But then again, whatever he wanted to say, she wanted to hear. “So...coffee or something?”

“Sure.”

She led him into the kitchen and whipped him up a quick cup, pouring cream in a little pitcher because she’d watched him at dinner and knew he took cream.

“Aren’t you having any?” he asked.

Her tummy was all fluttery, what with wondering what kind of thing he just had to say to her. Coffee would only make it worse. “Maybe later. How about the living area? It’s more comfortable there.”

“Good enough.” He poured in the cream, picked up his cup and followed her to the sofa.

They sat down together, and he set his cup on the coffee table. She folded her hands tightly in her lap. He’d said it was nothing awful, but he seemed so intense suddenly...

Was there going to be drama? Oh, she hoped not. She’d had enough drama to last her a lifetime, and then some.

He said, “There are things about me I want you to know.”

Uh-oh. She gulped down the giant lump in her throat and gave him a nod to continue.

“First, about Annabelle’s mother.”

Chloe realized she’d been holding her breath. She let it out slowly. Annabelle’s mother. Actually, she really wanted to know about Annabelle’s mother...

“Her name is Sandrine Cox. She’s an actress and model. We went out a few times. She got pregnant. She came to me, told me she was fairly certain it was my baby and she felt I had a right to know.”

Chloe studied his wonderful face. He seemed...relaxed when he talked about his little girl’s mother. Relaxed and accepting. “You believed her.”

“Yeah. Sandrine was always straight ahead about things. I believed that she believed the baby was mine. Then later, right after Annabelle was born, a paternity test proved Sandrine was right. Annabelle’s mine. And I knew from the moment Sandrine told me she was pregnant that I wanted the baby. Sandrine didn’t. She didn’t want to be a mom. She liked her single life and she had a lot of ambition, a heavy focus on her career. I made her an offer. I would pay her a large lump sum to have the baby and then she would sign over all rights to me.”

“And that’s what happened?”

He nodded. “She kept her end of the bargain. I kept mine.”

“You haven’t heard from her since Annabelle was born?”

“No. I doubt I ever will.”

“But with something as important as a child, Quinn, you never know. Someday Annabelle’s mother might regret her choice, change her mind.”

“Anything’s possible.”

“And if she did come to you, if she wanted to meet Annabelle?”

“Can’t say for certain. If she was as honest and up-front as before, we would work something out so that she could know Annabelle and Annabelle could know her.”

Chloe liked his answer. It could be difficult for him to make room for his daughter’s mother in their lives. But it was the right thing. “That sounds good. For Annabelle, most of all. It’s very likely, as she grows to adulthood, that she’s going to want to know about her birth mother and meet her, if possible.”

“Maybe. But it’s like you told me that first night. I’m not going to borrow trouble. I’ll answer Annabelle’s questions and pay attention to the signals she gives me. And then take it from there.” He loosened his tie. “I didn’t want you to wonder anymore about how I ended up with sole custody of my little girl and no mother in sight.”

Tenderness washed through her—for him, for the kind of man he was. A good man. Honest. True-hearted. A man who would do what was right even if it wasn’t the best or easiest thing for him, personally.

She reached out and brushed his hand. “Let me...”

He sat so still, so watchful, as she undid the tie completely. It made a soft, slithering sound as she slipped it from around his neck. She laid it carefully over the arm of the sofa. Then she turned to him again and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his snowy dress shirt, smoothing the collar open, revealing the powerful column of his neck and the sharp black point of one of those intricate tattoos that covered his shoulder and twined halfway down his arm.

“Better?” she asked.

They shared a smile as he nodded. He said, “There’s more.”

She took his right hand and turned it over, revealing his cuff buttons. One by one, she undid them. “Tell me.”

“I’m dyslexic,” he said, his voice rougher than usual, freighted with something wary, something wounded. “You know what dyslexia is?”

“I think I do. I think I remember reading that it’s when a person has difficulty in learning to read or interpret words, letters and other symbols?”

“That’s pretty close to the generally accepted definition.”

She took his left hand and unbuttoned that cuff, too.

He spoke again. “Most people think dyslexia is what you just said. A learning disorder, period. It’s more. It’s a challenge, a tough one. But it’s a gift, too.” She sat with his hand in her lap, the buttons undone, drinking in every word, as he explained, “You remember how I was as a kid. Trouble. Always getting in fights. Everyone thought I was stupid because I couldn’t get the hang of reading. I hated school, hated being the slow kid. I acted out constantly. Only later did I figure out that my problem was I couldn’t learn the way most kids learn. A traditional school environment did nothing for me. I don’t get phonics, don’t get learning things in rote sequence. It completely overloads me. So I would lash out.”

She did remember that troubled boy so well. “You always seemed so angry.”

“You bet I was. By the time I was eleven, my mother was at the end of her rope with me. As a last-ditch effort to find something I could do well, she enrolled me in a karate class—and everything changed for me. For once, I got something, really got it. Yeah, I have to work my ass off to try and get the meaning out of a line of letters across a page. But I’d always been damn good at fighting. The way my brain is wired makes me more capable than most people of visualizing the moves of my opponents in advance. I see the whole picture, I guess you could say. And that makes me more willing to follow my instincts. So I was good at karate, and finally being good at something was damn motivating. It got me going, gave me hope. I was driven to excel.” He took her hand then and wove his fingers with hers.

It felt so good, her hand in his. She held on tight. “Answer me a question...”

“Name it.”

“You seemed nervous about telling me this. Were you?”

He squeezed her fingers. “Yeah, I was.”

“But I can’t see why you would be, not after the way your life’s worked out.”

“There’s more. And you need to hear it.”

She needed to hear it? She almost asked him why, but then decided that the whys could wait. “All right...”

“Dyslexia is often genetic.”

She frowned. “So you’re telling me that Annabelle is dyslexic?”

“No. So far, Annabelle shows none of the signs. Already, she can recognize her alphabet and sound out simple words. But you should know that any child of mine could possibly be dyslexic.”

She should know? It was an odd way to phrase it.

And he still had more to say. “I plan to be proactive. If a kid of mine showed signs of dyslexia, I would be on it, arranging for early testing, providing alternative learning systems and support, working with the school so everyone’s on the same page about what needs to be done. If one of my kids was dyslexic, I would see to it that he didn’t have to go through the crap I went through. I would make sure any kid of mine never had to feel stupid and incompetent and lag way behind the learning curve.” He tipped his head then and asked with wry good humor, “You still with me, Chloe?”

“Absolutely. Yes. And I’m so sorry, Quinn. That you felt stupid and incompetent when you were little. No child should have to feel that way.”

“I got past it.”

“That doesn’t make it right.” At his chuckle, she chided, “It’s nothing to joke about, Quinn.”

He shrugged. “Tell me something.”

She had that odd feeling again; there was more going on here than she was picking up. “Of course.”

He let go of her hand, reached for his coffee—and said just what she’d been thinking. “Do you have any clue why I’m laying all this on you?”

She watched him take a sip. “Whatever your reasons, I have to say it’s really nice to have a guy just sit right down and talk to me about the toughest things. It’s rare.”

“Right.” He set the cup down again and rolled one of his unbuttoned cuffs to the elbow. “It’s what women love. A guy who won’t shut up...”

“I don’t know about ‘women.’ But I know what I like. And you telling me about what matters to you, about what made you who you are? I do like that. A lot.”

“Well, all right.” He rolled the other cuff. She watched him, admiring the hard shape of his arms, thick with muscle, roped with tendons, dusted with light brown hair, nicked here and there with small white ridges of scar tissue. He went on, “But I do have a reason for loading you up with way more info than you asked for.”

“And I keep trying to make you see that you don’t need a reason.”

He slanted her a teasing look. “Got that.”

A low laugh escaped her. “Well, okay, then. I get it. You’re trying to tell me the reason—so go ahead. I’m ready for it.”

“You sure?”

She groaned and executed a major eye roll. “Will you please stop teasing me?”

Now he looked at her so steadily, a look that made her warm all over, especially down in the center of her. “All right.” And then, just like that, he said, “I want to marry you, Chloe.”

Chapter Five

Quinn wasn’t finished. “I want to build a life with you, have kids with you. Like I said, I’m a guy who follows my intuition, a guy who has trouble sounding out a word—but also a guy who gets the big picture. And once I know what I want, I go for it. I want you, Chloe, for my wife. I want you for my little girl, too, because I know you’ll be the mother Annabelle needs.”

Chloe just stared at him. Words? They’d completely deserted her.

He put up a hand. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything now. All you have to do is take your time. Think it over. And you should know the kids aren’t a deal breaker for me. I want more. But if you don’t, I can live with that. Annabelle will be enough.”

“I, um...” She had no idea what to say next.

That didn’t seem to bother him. He simply waited.

And she found that she couldn’t sit still. She got up, eased from behind the coffee table and then kept going to the sliding door, the one she’d slipped out that first night, when he came up the hill and she took him to her bed.

He didn’t try to stop her. He didn’t say a word, only sat there, patiently waiting for her to process all he’d just said.

She appreciated his silence and stillness now, appreciated it every bit as much as she did all that he’d told her moments before. She flipped on the deck lights and stared out at the two empty cedar chairs.

Was this really happening? Just like that, out of nowhere, he wanted to marry her?

But then again, no. Not out of nowhere, not really. He was such a focused sort of man. Of course, he would decide what he wanted and lay it all out for her so honestly and directly.

She fiddled with the pearls her dad had given her years ago, when she thought she knew everything and saw so clearly how her life would go.

What about love? Quinn hadn’t mentioned love.

Should that bother her?

Well, it didn’t. She’d had enough declarations of love from her rotten-hearted ex-husband to last her into the next century. And where had all that love talk gotten her but wounded, divorced and bitterly disappointed?

This, what Quinn offered, was better.

It wasn’t a fantasy, not perfect. But it was honest. It felt real.

Quinn spoke then. “One more thing. About Manny...” He waited for her to look at him, and then for acknowledgement that she’d heard what he said. When she gulped and nodded, he went on. “Manny’s part of the family. So you would not only be getting me and Annabelle. There’s Manny, too. He can be a pain in the ass, I know. But he’s not going anywhere. If you said yes, you would need to deal with him, work with him.”

She felt a soft smile tremble across her mouth. “I would never for a second expect it to be any other way.”

He didn’t smile. But his eyes were so bright. “Well, all right, then.”

The part about Manny had been so easy to answer. But the rest of it... She really didn’t know what to say. She stared out the sliding door again.

He asked into the heavy silence, “Want me to go?”

Turning from her study of the empty deck chairs, she faced him once more. “No way. I want you to stay.”

He stood. “Will you think about it, consider my offer?”

“I will.”

He came for her then. She waited, her whole body humming with sweet anticipation as he approached.

And when he was close enough that the heat he generated seemed to reach out and touch her, she canted her chin higher and gazed straight into those beautiful eyes. “You are like no one I’ve ever known.”

“That’s good, I hope?”

“Oh, yes. It’s very good.”

“Angel.” He lifted a big hand and brushed a finger down the curve of her cheek, stirring up goose bumps, making her sigh. And then he lowered that wonderful mouth of his and brushed those lips, so gently, back and forth across her own.

She smiled into his kiss, brought her hands up between them and went to work undoing the rest of the buttons down the front of his shirt. It didn’t take long. She spread the shirt wide and pressed her palms to his broad chest, to that beautiful tattoo with his little girl’s name in the middle of it. His skin was hot, wonderfully so. Sandy hair formed a tempting T across.

And down.

Best of all, she could count the strong beats of his big heart. She whispered against those velvety lips of his, “I should have made a move on you back in high school.”

He chuckled, the low rumble sending a thrill shivering straight to the core of her. “That wasn’t your style—and I wasn’t your type.”

“Oh, but Quinn. You were my type. What a fool I was then. I took what I thought was the safe way—and it wasn’t safe in the least. It turned out all wrong.”

“Hey.” His voice was heaven, the perfect blend of rough and tender. He kissed the tip of her nose. “No regrets, huh?”

“But I do have regrets.” She slid her hands up over his thick, hard shoulders, and clasped them around his neck. “And I can’t just wish them away.”

He shrugged out of his shirt and let it fall. Then he bent his head lower, smoothed her hair aside and pressed his hot mouth to the crook of her neck. “Forget ’em, then.” His breath so hot across her skin, branding her, burning her. “For now, at least?”

She threaded her eager fingers up into his hair. “Help me with that?”

“Happy to.” He breathed in through his nose. “You smell so good...” And then he scraped his teeth where his lips had been.

She shivered and moaned as he kissed his way back up over the curve of her jaw to claim her lips again. She opened for him. Heat speared through her as his tongue swept her mouth.

He lifted her hair off her neck with one hand. With the other, he took down the long zipper at the back of her dress and guided the dress off her shoulders. It dropped to the floor. She broke the lovely kiss in order to step out of it. He bent, picked it up and tossed it on the nearest chair.

Unbuttoning and unzipping, flinging articles of clothing toward the chair as soon as they had them off, they undressed each other.

Finally, when the only thing left was her pearls, he ordered gruffly, “Turn around.”

She showed him her back. He unhooked the diamond clasp and took the necklace away. She faced him again in time to watch him reach over and lay the double strand on the nearby side table.

That was it. They were naked. Completely naked. And it seemed such a very long way to the bedroom.

Good thing she’d planned ahead.

He asked roughly, “What are you smiling about?”

And she pulled open the little drawer in the side table and took out the condom she’d tucked in there. Just in case.

“God. Chloe.” He hauled her close, licked her ear and whispered in it, “You think of everything.”

She whispered back, “A design teacher I had once told me that what I lack in imagination, I make up for in efficiency and good planning. I was really insulted at the time.”

He took her earlobe between his teeth and tugged on it, biting down just a little harder than he needed to.

It felt so good it made her moan.

He whispered, “Put it on me.”

She pulled back a little, far enough to meet his eyes. They were the color of some tropical sea right then, so deep, going down and down to deeper blue. Focused so completely on her. “Right now?”

For that she got a slow, deliberate nod from him.

She started to tear the top off the pouch.

“On second thought...” He caught her hand. “Wait...” And he pulled her close and kissed her some more. She gave herself up to that, to the taste of his mouth and the heat of his breath, to the feel of him, fully erect against her belly, making her burn for him.

Making her moan. She eased her free hand between them and wrapped her fingers around him, stroking. Oh, he felt so good—his powerful body pressed close, his mouth covering hers, the long, hard length of him held tight in her grip.

He kissed her endlessly, kissed her and caressed her, his fingers tracing magical patterns over her skin, teasing her breasts, first cradling them so gently, then catching the nipples, rolling them, so that she moaned some more. He seemed to really like it when she moaned.

He made a wonderful growling sound low in his throat. “Yeah,” he said. “Like that?”

She couldn’t say “Yes” fast enough. So she said it again, moving her hand up and down the thick length of him. “Yes...” And again, “Oh, yes, Quinn. Like that...”

And then his hand went lower, all the way to the feminine heart of her.

She cried out as he stroked her, opening her. She felt her own wetness, her readiness for him. She didn’t want to wait a second longer. She couldn’t wait...

“I...” She got that word out, and then couldn’t for the life of her remember what she’d meant to say next.

“Yeah?” He was kissing his way along the line of her jaw, biting a little, licking some, too. Below, his fingers kept up their clever, thrilling play on her wet, secret flesh.

Oh, she was lost in the best way, totally gone. She kept her left hand wrapped around him, holding on for dear life. In her right, she still clutched the unused condom. She kind of waved it at him. “I...” Just that word. Nothing more. It was the only word she seemed to have at her disposal at the moment.

And apparently it was enough. He took the condom from her. She opened her eyes and stared up at him, dazed. Transported.

He lifted the small pouch, caught the corner between his teeth and tore the top off, all the while staring directly into her eyes, his other hand continuing to do amazing things to her below.

“Here,” she whispered, holding out her free hand. He gave it back. She let go of him to use both hands, removing the wrapper and dropping it on the little table next to her pearls. And then she rolled the protection down over him. He moaned. And she granted him a small, triumphant smile. “There.”

He reached for her, clasping her waist. She gasped in surprise. His right hand was slick and wet. It was her wetness, her desire. She was shocked at herself, at her own complete abandon.

Shocked. Amazed.

And gratified.

It was the same as that other night. Only better. He took her, claimed her, carried her right out of herself. He just swept her away—at the same time as he made her feel that she’d somehow come home, that nothing and no one would ever hurt her again.

And then he was lifting her. He did it so effortlessly, as though she weighed nothing. She grabbed for him, hungry for the feel of him, for her flesh pressed to his flesh, hot and tight and hard. She wrapped her arms and legs around him.

He whispered her name.

“Quinn,” she whispered in return. “Oh, yes.” She sank her teeth into his neck and when he growled at her, a dark, hot laugh escaped her. He bent to nuzzle her and she turned her face to his and claimed his mouth.

The kiss went deeper, wetter, hotter. And he was moving, with her all twined around him like a vine. He went to the short section of bare wall beside the entry closet, just walked her right up to it.

And then he lifted her, positioning her just so...

She felt him there, nudging her, right where she wanted him. And she pressed down.

He made the deepest, hottest, hungriest sound then, as she lowered herself onto him. He was wonderfully thick and large. Still, her body took him easily, gliding down around him until he filled her all the way.

They froze. She let her head fall back and her eyes drift shut. He had her perfectly braced, with the wall to give them stability. He canted his upper body slightly away from her, while below, he held her so close, just right, big hands cradling her open thighs. She clutched his shoulders, fingers gripping tight, her legs locked securely behind his waist.

She was...gone, lost in wonder, swept up in the connection, her breathing harsh and hungry, just like his.

“Chloe...”

And she opened her eyes and looked at him. His blue-green gaze was right there, waiting for her. He gripped her thighs tighter, pushing them wider, pressing his lower body closer, sliding into her that fraction deeper.

That did it. She felt the gathering, the build—and the lovely, hot sensation, as though all of her was blooming.

She asked, “Quinn?” For permission? Acknowledgment?

She had no idea which.

But he seemed to understand, even if she didn’t. “Yeah,” he answered, one corner of that soft, bad boy’s mouth of his curling upward. “Go for it, angel.”

And she did. She let go, let it happen, let it roll out from her in a hot, endless wave. Pleasure cascaded from the core of her, sizzling along every nerve, hitting the tips of her toes and the top of her head, spilling all through her in a flood of light and glory. He stayed with her, pressing up into her hard and tight, as the fire flamed so bright and then slowly faded down to a lovely, glowing ember.

And right then, when she thought it was over, when she was more than ready to ease her shaking legs to the floor, he started to move again.

She groaned in sexual overload and shoved fitfully at his rocklike shoulders. But he didn’t release her.

And, well, could she blame him? After all, it was his turn. He’d swept her right off her feet and straight to paradise. The least she could do was stick with him now.

With a sigh of surrender, she stopped pushing him away and held on instead, bracing to ride it out.

But then, out of nowhere, all at once, it became more than just sticking with it for his sake. So much more.

In a split second, she was catching fire again.

“Oh... Oh, my!” She yanked him tight against her.

He let out a laugh, deep and knowing. Full of heat and joy.

She moaned his name as she pressed her open mouth to his, her body moving in time with his, picking up speed, finding the hard, insistent rhythm he set—and matching it, giving it back to him.

Time whirled away. The edge of the world was waiting for her. Waiting for both of them. She spun toward it, dizzy with the thrill of it. She hovered on the brink—and went over.

And he was right there with her, hitting the peak a moment after she did, pulsing hard and hot within her.

And then following her down.

Chapter Six

It was three-fifteen on Saturday morning when he left her.

Chloe put on a robe and walked him out to his beautiful old car. She kissed him goodbye—a long, slow, lovely kiss.

When he would have let her go, she grabbed him back and kissed him some more.

He laughed when he finally lifted his head. “Hey. I’m only going around the block.”

“I know.” She sighed, wrapped her arms around his waist, and beamed up at him. “But I want to make sure you don’t forget me.”

“No chance of that.” He took a curl of her hair and wrapped it around his hand. “We got a special thing going, you and me.”

“Oh, yes, we do.”

He touched her chin with his thumb, brushed one last kiss across her upturned lips. “Get some rest.”

She promised she would and reluctantly stepped back so he could open the car door and slide in behind the wheel. Then she waited, her arms wrapped around herself against the predawn chill, as he backed from the driveway and drove off down the street.

As soon as his taillights disappeared, she missed him. She wanted to run inside, grab the phone and call him back.

Which was totally silly. He’d asked her to marry him. And she was redecorating his house—both of his houses, as a matter of fact.

One way or another, she would be seeing him very soon.

* * *

She saw him the next day. He called and invited her out for ice cream with him and Annabelle. Chloe spent two lovely hours with father and daughter. Annabelle enchanted her. It might be too soon to talk about falling in love with Quinn. But she had no problem admitting she was head over heels for his little girl.

And then, that night, Quinn came up the hill to join her. He stayed for two hours. They talked about Annabelle and about Chloe’s plans for his houses—and then they made love. He left at a little past midnight.

Same thing on Sunday night.

Monday at nine in the morning, Quinn closed on the house across the street from Chloe. Then, at eleven, he brought Manny and Annabelle to Chloe’s showroom to see the plans and sign the contract for the redesign of the house down the hill. Chloe had cookies on offer at the coffee table, which Annabelle spotted immediately. Manny said she could have one.

Annabelle chose a cookie, thanked Chloe sweetly—and asked if she knew how to make a fairy princess dress. “I want one, Chloe. Will you please make me one?”

Before Chloe could reply that she absolutely could and would, Quinn said, “Anniefannie, you are pushing it.”

“Daddy!” The little girl tipped her cute nose high in a perfect imitation of disdain. “I’m not a fannie.”

“But will you stop pushing it?”

Annabelle dimpled adorably. “But Chloe can make a room. I know she can make me a fairy princess dress.” She turned pleading eyes on Chloe, who longed only to give her whatever she wanted. “Pleeeaaase, Chloe.”

Manny spoke up then. He said one word. “Annabelle.” After which he pushed back his chair and held out his hand.

Annabelle’s lower lip started quivering. “Oh, no. Not the car. I don’t want to sit in the car. Pleeaaassse, Manny.”

Manny let out a heavy sigh. “Are you gonna stop pestering Chloe and sit quietly at the table while we finish our business here?”

Annabelle announced loudly, “Yes, I am!”

Manny mimed locking his lips with a key.

Annabelle straightened her small shoulders and folded her hands on the table, all the while pressing her lips together and pointedly glancing from one adult to the next.

Finally, Manny nodded. “All right. We’ll give it a try.”

Annabelle nodded wildly but kept her little mouth tightly shut.

“Eat your cookie,” Quinn said in his gentlest voice.

Annabelle made short work of the treat. And then Manny gave her a cup of crayons and some paper. She was a perfect little angel, happily coloring away as the grown-ups finished their meeting.

That afternoon, Chloe visited Bravo Construction, which consisted of three trailers and a warehouse on the southwest edge of town. She met with Nell Bravo, who was in her late twenties and stunningly beautiful, with long auburn hair and a vivid half-sleeve tattoo down her shapely left arm. The baby of the Bravo family, Nell had always been outspoken and tough-minded. Everyone knew you didn’t mess with Nell.

Chloe had the plans with her for Quinn’s redesign. She spent two hours in Nell’s office trailer, going over everything in detail, coming to agreement on the budget and the schedule.

Nell would personally run the job. Tomorrow, Chloe would get busy ordering cabinets and appliances, counters and flooring. Nell would put in for the permits they would need. Demo would begin first thing next Monday morning. If all went as planned—which it rarely did—the project would take nine to ten weeks.

At four o’clock, when they had everything pretty well hammered out, Chloe got up to leave.

And Nell hoisted her heavy black biker boots up onto her battered desk. “Before you head out, we need to talk. Hey, Ruby?”

The plump, motherly looking clerk at the desk near the door glanced around. “What do you need?”

“Take fifteen?”

“Sure.” Ruby got up from her laptop and left the trailer.

Chloe had a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Nell proved the feeling right as soon as the door closed behind the clerk. “So, I hear you’ve had a thing for Quinn ever since high school. Is that true?”

Chloe dropped back into her chair. “Monique Hightower’s been talking.”

“Did you think she wouldn’t?”

Chloe suppressed a sigh. “No. I knew she would.” It had all seemed so amusing Friday night. But looking in Nell’s narrowed eyes right now, she didn’t think it was funny at all.

Quinn’s sister demanded, “Answer my first question.”

Chloe drew herself up. “Yeah. I had certain...fantasies about Quinn way back when. Is that somehow a crime?”

“He’s not just a piece of tasty meat. He’s a good man.”

Tasty meat? Chloe took care to keep her voice even. “I know he’s a good man, Nell.”

“You slumming?”

Chloe didn’t let her gaze waver. “I absolutely am not—and why would you think that? Quinn’s a brilliant man with a whole lot going for him. The word slumming just doesn’t apply.”

“Oh, come on, Chloe. Your mother was practically best friends with my father’s first wife. No way Linda Winchester’s going to approve of you seeing one of the bastard Bravos—especially not the ‘stupid’ one who barely managed to finish high school.”

Chloe felt the angry color flooding upward on her cheeks. When would people stop assuming that her mother made her choices for her? “Nell.” She made a show of clucking her tongue. “Where do I even start with you? Not fair. Not to Quinn. And not to me. He’s far from stupid and he’s done just fine for himself. We both know that. As for me, yes, it’s true. I used to let my mother have way too much influence over me. But that was then. Right this minute, I’m thirty-one, divorced, fully self-supporting and on my own. My mother has zero say about whom I go out with.”

Nell’s lush mouth twisted. “Does your mother know that?”

Busted. “I’ll say it again. I decide whom I spend time with.”

Nell dropped her heavy boots to the floor, braced both elbows on the desk and folded her hands between them. “Am I pissing you off, Chloe?”

The perennial good girl in Chloe pushed for denial, for smoothing things over after neatly sweeping them under the carpet. But no. The truth was better. “Yes, Nell. You are pissing me off.”

“Good.” Nell tipped her head to the side. The overhead fluorescents made her fabulous hair shimmer like a red waterfall. “Don’t you hurt him, or you’ll be answering to me.”

Chloe sat tall. “I don’t know for sure what’s going to happen. But Quinn’s an amazing man who means a lot to me. The last thing I would ever want to do is hurt him.”

Nell’s swivel chair squeaked as she flopped back in it and folded her arms across her spectacular breasts. She stared at Chloe, unblinking, for a grim count of ten. Then: “Look. I like your plans for the house. You know your job. I like the way you carry yourself. And I hardly knew you, back in the day. You were four years ahead of me in school. I only knew your reputation as the perfect one, the one headed for a good marriage to a rich husband, two-point-two children, a soccer-mom-and-country-club life—and some chichi career that you could fit in between social engagements.”

“Something like interior design, you mean?”

“Hey. If the glass slipper fits...”

“As it turned out, it didn’t. Not by a long shot. And that was then, Nell. I’m not that girl anymore.”

Another long, measuring stare from Nell. Finally, she shrugged. “You know, I think I believe you.” She got up and held down her hand. Chloe did want peace with Quinn’s sister—with all of his family. After a moment’s hesitation, she took Nell’s offered hand and rose. Nell said, “Looking forward to working with you.”

“I’m sure it will be interesting.”

“Right. And listen. When you tell Quinn about this little talk we had—”

Chloe didn’t even let her finish. “Why would I tell him? The way I see it, what just happened is between you and me.”

Nell arched an auburn eyebrow. “Fair enough.” And then she grumbled, “I’m really starting to like you. How ’bout that?”

“I’m glad. I’m going to do my best not to disappoint you—though you did go a little overboard just now.”

Always a fighter, Nell stuck out her chin. “You think so?”

“Yes, I do. Then again, it’s nice to know how much you love your brother and that you have his back.”

* * *

That evening, Chloe spent a pleasant hour with a sketch pad, drawing a series of small figures that looked a lot like Annabelle. The figures all wore different versions of a magical, multilayered, brightly colored fairy princess costume, complete with wings—because what’s a fairy princess costume unless there are wings?

A little later, when Quinn showed up, she took him downstairs to her home office and showed him the drawings.

“She would love it,” he admitted with some reluctance. And then he shook his head. “You know she wants a puppy, too? There’s no end to what Annabelle wants.”

Chloe laughed. “The puppy’s your problem.”

“So far, we’re holding the line on that.”

“I just want to make this costume for her.”

He took the sketch pad from her, dropped it to her desk, then wrapped his arms around her and kissed the end of her nose. “You’re a pushover.”

She grinned up at him. “I promise to get myself under control soon when it comes to dealing with her. But I want to do this for her. I want her to have her dream room and I want her to have her fairy princess dress.”

He chuckled. “You’re giving me the big eyes. You’re as bad as she is.”

She traced the crew neck of his Prime Sports T-shirt with her index finger and then she pressed her lips against the hot skin of his powerful neck. “I would need to take her measurements, and probably let her see the sketches, to make sure I’ve got it right, got it just as she imagines it. So she would have to know ahead of time that she was getting what she wanted...”

“Yep. The big eyes,” he muttered gruffly. “I know what you’re doing.” He kissed her then, a lovely, deep, slow one, after which she sighed and gazed up at him hopefully. Finally, he grumbled, “Wait a week or two before you bring it up to her. At least she won’t think all she has to do is bat her eyes and beg a little and everything she wants will just drop in her lap.”

“I’ll check with Manny, too, to make sure he’s okay with it. And if he gives the go-ahead, I’ll wait two weeks to show her the drawings. How’s that?” she asked, batting her eyes for all she was worth.

He gave in. “Fine.”

“Thanks.” She sighed and turned in his embrace so she could lean back against him.

He put his arms around her waist, and she felt his warm lips in her hair. “How’d your meeting with Nell go?”

Chloe thought of his little sister’s biker boots hitting the desk, of the hot, protective gleam in Nell’s emerald-green eyes. “Great. I like her. I think we’ll work well together.”

“She can be a hard ass. Don’t let her intimidate you.”

Chloe smiled to herself. “Not a chance.”

And then she caught his hand and led him back upstairs to her bedroom, where they made slow, delicious love.

He put his clothes back on at a little after midnight. She hated to see him go and she told him so. And then she kind of waited for him to point out that, if they were married, he wouldn’t have to go.

But then he just kissed her again and said he’d see her tomorrow.

She put on her robe and walked him to the sliding door in the great room. Once he was gone, she stood looking out at the stars, thinking about saying yes to him.

Wanting to.

Because she wanted him. She liked him—and she liked his daughter and Manny, too. He wanted a wife and a mother for Annabelle. And all her life, she’d longed to be an excellent wife to a good and decent man, to be a loving mother. The idea of having Annabelle as her own made her heart feel too big for her chest. And the part about having Quinn’s babies?

That hollowed her out and made her burn.

But speaking of burning...she’d been burned before, and badly. And it hadn’t even been three weeks since that first night Quinn came up the hill and joined her in her bed.

How could she be sure of him in such a short time? With her track record, how could she be sure of anyone?

The stars outside were silent. They had no answers for her.

* * *

Tuesday flew by. She had several customers at the showroom. And she had shopping to do, an endless list of goodies that would be needed for Quinn’s remodel.

When Chloe got home that evening, she saw a moving van at the house across the street. She went on over. Manny was there, directing the movers. He greeted her with a grin and a hug and said that Quinn was down at the other house feeding Annabelle her dinner on the last night they would spend at home until after the remodeling.

Chloe explained about the fairy princess dress.

Manny said, “She’s gonna love that.”

“So it’s okay with you? You don’t think I’m a complete pushover?”

“I think we got a little girl who loves her princesses. And you want to help her with that. Sounds about right to me.”

She thanked him and then glanced around, admiring the soaring stone fireplace and the thick log walls. “Give me a tour?”

“Getting ideas for this one already?”

She nodded. “I’m happy that I’ll have a chance to get to know this house ahead of time, get familiar with it, you know? I’ll have an opportunity to mull over what changes will work best for it. Redoing a log home presents a special set of challenges.”

Manny seemed to be studying her. “You’re all right, Chloe.”

“I’m glad you think so, Manny. I’m growing quite fond of you, as well.”

“Quinn pop the question yet?”

Chloe fell back a step. “He told you he was going to?”

“Hell, no. He told me zip. But we been together more than a decade. I got a good idea what’s going on with him, whether he lays it out for me or not.” The two burly moving guys came in with the dining-room table. Manny said, “Through there, boys.” And on they went. Manny lowered his voice for Chloe alone and said, “You haven’t said yes yet, have you?”

Chloe pretended to ponder. “Hmm. Let me see. Would Quinn really want me to answer that?”

Manny chortled out a rough laugh. “Come on. Let me show you the house...”

* * *

The landline was ringing when Chloe got back to her place. It clicked over to her old-school answering machine before she could pick up.

It was her mother. “Sweetheart, we’re home. Walked in the door five minutes ago. Maui was heaven, as always. But it’s nice to be back and I can’t want to see you, find out how you’ve been doing and tell you all about our trip. Call me the minute you get this. Love you...”

Chloe stood by the phone and considered getting it over with, calling her mother back right away. Years of conditioning had her feeling she really ought to call now, that a good daughter could be counted on to keep in contact with the ones she loved.

But as soon as her mother asked her what she’d been up to in the past two weeks, Chloe would be confronted with the question of how much to say.

Ha. As if there was a choice. Monique Hightower was spreading the news about her and Quinn far and wide. One way or another, it wouldn’t be long before her mother got an earful. And it would probably be better if her mother heard it from Chloe.

Better being a relative term, knowing her mother.

Chloe picked up the phone.

And then set it back down again.

Her hand was shaking slightly, and that made her mad.

Why should she live in fear of her own mother? She’d faced Nell Bravo right down and told her that Linda Winchester did not run her life. She’d told Quinn the same thing. She needed to live by her own words.

Chloe turned the ringer off on the kitchen and bedroom phones and turned the volume on the message machine all the way down. Then she switched the sound off on her cell, as well. She’d check to see who’d called her at her convenience, thank you very much.

And she would get in touch with her mother later, after she’d had a little time to decide exactly what she wanted to say to her.

* * *

The evening went by—a goodly portion of it spent joyfully in Quinn’s strong arms. After he left, she had trouble falling asleep. She couldn’t stop stewing over what to tell her mom.

Somehow, in the morning, she slept through her alarm. That left her rushing to get ready and out the door in time to get the showroom opened by nine.

Her mother called the showroom number at ten. “Sweetheart, there you are!”

Chloe still wasn’t ready to deal with her. “Mom. Glad you’re home safe. Can’t talk now. You know that. I’m at work.”

“But how am I supposed to get hold of you if you won’t answer your—?”

“Mom, I have another call,” she outright lied. “I’ll call you this evening, I promise.”

“But—”

“Gotta go. I’ll call. Promise.”

Her mother was still protesting as Chloe hung up the phone. She knew time was running out. She was going to have to stop being such a coward. All day long, in the back of her mind, she rehearsed the things she would say when she called back that night.

I’ve been seeing Quinn Bravo. I care for him, Mom. Deeply. He’s asked me to marry him and I am seriously considering telling him yes.

It all sounded so simple. It was...what people did. They found each other and they fell for each other and realized they didn’t want to be apart. So they got married and raised a family.

Why shouldn’t she have that—and with the right man this time? With a good man, a strong man. A man who cared about more than money and power and things. A man who considered her a whole person, with a heart and mind of her own, not just his most prized possession who looked good on his arm and had great taste and could work a room with the best of them.

Short answer: she absolutely should have that. And she would have it. With Quinn.

By the time she locked up the showroom and went home, she was all fired up to get it over with. To call her mother and tell her simply and proudly that she and Quinn were together.

But as it turned out, no call was necessary. When she pulled into her driveway, her mother’s Mercedes SUV was parked in the side space next to the garage.

Chloe’s stomach lurched at the sight, which was so pitiful it made her want to throw her head back and scream. But she didn’t scream. She drew in a slow breath and told herself to man up. It was her life and she was going to live it for herself, not her mother. She would tell her mom the simple truth about her and Quinn and that would be that.

But then, as she left the garage by the breezeway door and caught sight of her mother waiting on the front step, it became crystal clear from the tight, furious expression on Linda Winchester’s face that she already knew about Quinn.

Chloe’s steps faltered. Only for a second, though. She quickly caught herself, straightened her shoulders and kept right on walking. “Mom. I don’t remember you mentioning that you would be dropping by.”

“Oh, please.” Her mother gave her a truly withering glance. “Let me in. I have a few things to say to you and I’m not going to say them on your front step.”

Chloe froze with her key raised to unlock the door. “Look, Mother. I don’t want to—”

“Open the door. Now, please.”

The temptation was so powerful to tell her mother right then and there that this was her house and she would decide who did or didn’t enter it.

But then again, well, Linda Winchester wasn’t the only one who had a few things to say. And she wasn’t the only one who preferred to have this out in private.

So she unlocked the door. Her mother brushed past her as she disarmed the alarm.

Carefully, quietly, Chloe shut the door. Her mother stood beside the formal dining table, her blond head high, bright spots of color flaming on her cheeks, her lips bloodless with tension.

Chloe almost felt sorry for her. “Look, Mom. Why don’t you sit down?”

Linda whipped out the chair at the end of the table and sat in it. She put her hand to her mouth and shut her eyes.

Chloe took the nearest chair. She waited until her mother dropped her hand away from her mouth and opened her eyes again before she said gently, “You’re obviously very upset. Please tell me why.”

Her mother sucked in a gasp and snapped, “Don’t you play coy with me, Chloe.”

“I’m not playing coy,” Chloe said with a calm that surprised her. “What I’m doing is trying my best not to jump to conclusions.”

“All right.” With two sharp tugs, Linda straightened the sides of the linen jacket she wore. “Agnes Oldfield dropped by to see me an hour ago. She says it’s all over town that you’ve been seeing Quinn Bravo. She says you went to the Sylvan Inn with him last Friday night, where you told Monique Hightower right to her face that you were...attracted to that man ever since high school. Agnes also says that you’ve been seen having ice cream with him and that child of his. She says that everyone says how...intimate you seem together, that it’s obvious something serious is going on between you.” Linda pressed her hand flat to her chest, and shook her head fiercely. “I do not believe this. Tell me that none of it is true.”

Chloe just stared. God. She’d known this would be bad. But somehow, now that it was actually happening, all she could think was What are we doing here? How could I have let it get his far? Why didn’t I back her down years ago?

The questions were all too familiar to her. They were the same ones she’d asked herself over and over about her ex-husband.

“Well?” her mother demanded. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“You know, Mom. I don’t think I have to say anything. But I would like to know what happened to you? I just don’t understand how you got so messed up.”

Another indignant gasp. “Excuse me?”

“It’s not going to work on me, Mother. Not anymore. All your trumped-up outrage, your sad, small-minded ideas about who’s okay and who’s not. Your judgments about the right kind of people and the ones who just don’t measure up.”

“Wait just a minute, now—”

“No. No, I’m not going to wait for you to try and fill my head with more of your small-minded garbage and your snobbish, silly lies.”

“Well, I have never—”

“Stop. I mean it. I don’t want to hear it, never again. Quinn Bravo is a fine man and I’m not listening to one more word of this ridiculous crap you’re dishing out against him. Yes, I am seeing him. And I am proud to be seeing him. Also, you should know that I am redoing his house and I’m gratified that he and Manny Aldovino have confidence in my ability to do the job well. In fact, Quinn has asked me to marry him and I am seriously considering saying yes.”

“Dear, sweet Lord. Have you lost your mind?”

“No, I have not. I am perfectly sane, saner than I’ve ever been in my life before. And all that old stuff about Quinn’s mother and his father and his father’s first wife, all those ancient, ridiculous distinctions between the real Bravos and the bastard Bravos... Nobody cares about that anymore. Nobody but you—and maybe Monique Hightower and Agnes Oldfield, who both ought to get a life and stay out of mine.”

“But you surely can’t—”

“Wake up, Mother. Smell the Starbucks. I mean, look at it this way. Haven’t you heard? Quinn Bravo’s rich now. He’s made a big success of his life. You know how much you love a big success.”

Linda Winchester paled. “How dare you imply that I care how much money a man makes?”

Chloe knew she had lost it completely when she shouted, “I’m not implying it, I’m saying it straight out!”

Her mother cringed and jerked back in her chair, as though terrified—which Chloe knew very well she was not. “There’s no need to shout,” Linda said with a wounded sniff. “And I would hardly consider beating other men to a pulp a ‘successful’ way to make a living. And what about that motherless child of his being raised by that strange old man?”

“Manny is a wonderful person and he’s doing a terrific job with Annabelle.”

“Oh, please. It doesn’t matter how much money he has. Quinn Bravo will never measure up and I raised you to know that.”

“Enough.” Chloe stood. “What I know, Mother, is that I’m done. I’m finished. I’ve had enough of your narrow-minded, holier-than-thou, manipulative behavior to last me a lifetime.”

Another hot gasp from her mother. “What’s happened to you? What’s the matter with you? You’re acting like a crazy person. I brought you up to be better than this.”

“Stop. Quit. There’s just no point. I want you to leave now. I want you to leave my house and not come back until you’ve had a serious change in your attitude.”

Something happened then. Linda’s gaze shifted away. When she looked back at Chloe, she actually seemed worried. Was it possible she’d finally realized she’d gone too far? She said, more softly than before, with a hint of appeasement, “It’s only that I don’t want you to throw your life away. It’s only that you’re special. You deserve the best life has to offer. I want that for you. I want everything for you.”

“I really do want you to go now.” Chloe gentled her tone, but didn’t waver. “Please.”

Linda didn’t get up. She only talked faster. “Oh, sweetheart. I know. I understand. You had it all. And you threw it away. But the good news is, if you’ll only make a little effort, you and Ted can work through this rough patch and—”

Chloe put up a hand. “Get back with Ted? You can’t be serious. I don’t believe you, Mother. How many times have I told you I never want to hear his name? How many times have I told you that he hit me and he cheated on me and there is no going back from that? I don’t want to go back. All I want is never to have to look in his evil, lying face again.”

“You’re overwrought.”

“Oh, you bet I am.” She stepped back and pointed at the door. “Please leave my house. Now.”

Finally, her mother stood—and kept on talking. “Can’t you see? That new wife of his? She’s a pale imitation. She can’t hold a candle to you. Ted realizes that now. And you know that you’re exaggerating about his behavior, making a big drama out of a little marital spat or two.”

“Wait.” Chloe really, truly could not believe her ears. “What did you say?”

“I said, you’re making a big drama of—”

“‘He realizes that now’? How could you know what Ted Davies realizes?”

“Well, sweetheart, now listen. You really need to settle down, so that we can speak of this reasonably.”

“Reasonably?” Chloe echoed in a near whisper. The awful truth had hit her like a boot to the head. Her ears were ringing. “You’ve been in touch with him, haven’t you? You’ve been encouraging him.”

Linda got right to work blowing her off. “Well, I... You know I only want what’s best for you and I—”

“You’ve given him my address, haven’t you?”

“Oh, don’t be foolish. It’s not as if you’re in hiding.”

“So you did give him my address.”

Linda just wouldn’t give it up and answer the question. She let out a low sound of complete disdain. “Don’t make such an issue of it. Anyone could find out where you live with a minimum of effort.”

“But Ted didn’t have to make any effort, right? Because you’ll tell him whatever he wants to know.” She grabbed her mother’s arm. “That does it. You’re leaving.”

Linda squealed. “What are you doing?” She slapped at Chloe. “Let go of me. You’re hurting me...” The tears started then.

Chloe ignored them. She pulled her mother to the door, yanked it open and shoved her over the threshold.

Linda sobbed, “How can you do this to me? You’re breaking my heart.”

Chloe’s answer was to firmly shut the door in her face.

Chapter Seven

That night, it took Quinn an extra half hour to chase off all the monsters and get Annabelle settled in bed. He performed his monster-removing duties happily. Partly because he was a total pushover for his little girl. And partly because he knew she needed the extra attention on her first night in her temporary bedroom in the log house across the street from Chloe.

After Annabelle finally went to sleep, he and Manny took beers out to the back deck, where they touched base on the usual household stuff, finances and the move.

They were just wrapping up when his cell chimed. A text. From Chloe. The first, he realized, that he’d ever gotten from her.

That made him smile—initially. And then he had to deal with the words in the little conversation bubble. At least it was only one sentence: Can you come over now?

Unease curled through him. Something in the starkness of the question didn’t sit right. Chloe was generally so gracious and well mannered, the kind of woman to offer a drink and ask a man how his day had been before ever getting down to what she needed from him.

Manny asked, “Chloe?”

“Yeah.” Texting was not his best event. He debated the option of turning up the sound on his text-to-speech app and voice-texting her back. Or he could just call her. But she was only across the street and he felt an urgency to get to her. He rose.

“Something wrong, Crush?”

Quinn clasped Manny’s shoulder. “Probably nothing.”

Manny reached up, patted his hand and let him go without a single wiseass remark.

* * *

Chloe must have been standing at the door, peering through the peephole, because she whipped it open before Quinn could raise his hand to knock. One look at her too-pale face and shadowed, red-rimmed eyes and Quinn knew his instincts had been right. Something had gone way wrong.

“Quinn.” She grabbed for him.

He stepped inside, gathered her close and shoved the door shut with his heel.

“Quinn...” She curled against him, tucking her golden head under his chin, her slim arms clutching tight around him, as though she wanted to crawl right inside skin.

It freaked him out a little to see her so out of control. That only happened when he had her naked in bed. The rest of the time, she was the queen of smooth, hard to ruffle. Something had really spooked her. He stroked her hair and rubbed her back and reassured her with low, soothing words. “I’m here. It’s okay now, all right? You just hold on tight...”

She burrowed even closer against him and confessed in a torn whisper, “I never, ever had the guts to stand up to her and now it’s come down to this. Oh, I hate myself. I’m such a wuss. It shouldn’t have gotten to this, I should have stopped her a long time ago. I—”

“Shh,” he soothed. “Shh, now. Take a breath, a long, slow one...”

Obedient as a cowed and frightened child, she took a long, deep one and let it out nice and slow. “Oh, Quinn...” A sob escaped her.

He caught her beautiful face between his hands, tipped it up so he could see her haunted eyes again and took an educated guess. “This is about your mother?”

She hitched in a ragged breath and nodded. “After tonight, she’s out of my life. I never want to see her again.”

“Whoa,” he said gently. “Come on, now, angel. Whatever she did, she is your mother.”

Chloe pursed up her lips and stuck out her chin. “Don’t even remind me.”

“I’m only saying, whatever happened with her, give her a little time. She’ll come around.”

“Oh, you don’t know her, Quinn,” she insisted. “You don’t know her at all.” She sounded downright pissed off.

Which wasn’t so bad, he decided. He’d take pissed off over brokenhearted and out of control any day of the week. “Hey.” He stroked her hair some more, brushed a quick kiss across her sweet, trembling mouth. “You gonna talk to me? Really talk to me? Because I need a better idea of what happened before I can do much more than hold you and tell you it’ll be okay.”

“It was awful. We went at each other. She was like one of those crazed, jealous girlfriends on The Jerry Springer Show.” Chloe shut her eyes and sucked in another slow, careful breath. “And I wasn’t much better.”

Now, there was an image. Chloe and Linda Winchester going at it on The Jerry Springer Show. “Come on. Make some coffee or something. You can tell me what happened.”

A few minutes later, they sat on the sofa. Chloe sipped the hot tea she’d made for herself. “She was waiting on the front step when I got home from work, and she was furious.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out why. “Someone told her about you and me.”

“That’s right. She...” Chloe met his eyes then. “I don’t even know how to tell you how awful she was.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to give me a blow-by-blow. She’s never thought much of me or of my family and we knew that from the first.”

“I, well, I want you to know that I didn’t back down, Quinn. I didn’t evade, either. For the first time in my life I stood right up to her. I told her I was seeing you and I intended to keep seeing you and that she’d better accept that.”

“But she wouldn’t accept it.”

“No. We yelled at each other. I realized it was going nowhere and I asked her to leave. That was when she let it slip that she’s been in touch with my ex-husband.” Chloe’s gaze slid away. “I hit the ceiling and threw her out.” She fell silent, and she still wasn’t looking at him.

He waited. When she didn’t volunteer any more, he said, “It’s probably about now that you should tell me whatever it is you’re not telling me about your ex-husband.”

She did face him then. And she looked stricken. In a small voice, she said, “I don’t even know where to begin.” He took her mug from her and set it on the low table. Then he hooked an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to his side. She crumpled against him. “Oh, God...”

He pressed a kiss into her sweet-smelling hair. “It doesn’t matter where you start. I’m not going anywhere until you’ve told me everything I need to know.”

She let out a small, sad little sound. “All my life, all I wanted was to be my mother’s good little girl. And look where that’s gotten me...”

Quinn said nothing. He held her close.

Finally, hesitantly, she told him the story. “I met Ted Davies at Stanford in my sophomore year. He was four years older than me, in law school. And he was everything my mother raised me to want. Handsome and charming, already rich, from a powerful California family, bound for a successful career as a corporate lawyer. I saw him as perfect husband material, and he saw me as exactly the right wife to stand by him as he climbed to the top. We got married in a gorgeous wine country wedding at the end of my senior year and I went to work being his wife, which both of us considered a full-time job. It was all going so well until Ted lost his temper. He’d decided I’d been too friendly to one of the partners at his office Christmas party. We had a fight. We’d been married for a little more than two years. That was the first time he hit me.” She tipped her head up and looked at Quinn then.

He knew that look. She was checking to see how he was taking it. He met her eyes and stroked her hair and didn’t let her see what was going on inside him. He was a simple man, really, especially when it came to stuff like this. A simple man who wanted to track down that jackass she’d married and beat his face in for him.

Chloe lowered her head again and tucked herself against his chest. “I left him.”

“Good.”

She glanced up again. He was ready for that. Playing it easy and accepting for all he was worth, he kissed the tip of her elegant nose. With a sigh, she settled again. “Ted...wooed me back. He went into counseling for anger management to prove to me that he was a changed man.”

“But he wasn’t.”

“I’ll say this. He didn’t hit me again for a long time, though his scary temper was increasingly in evidence as the next four years went by. Three years ago, I found out he was having an affair with a college student, an intern at his firm. I confronted him. When he couldn’t convince me that he was totally innocent and that I was only being a small-minded, jealous wife, he lost it. He punched me in the face hard enough to bloody my nose and blacken both eyes. I left him. And after that, I was done. No cajoling or high-powered charm offensive or promises that he’d get more counseling could sway me. I sued for divorce. As it happened, he was still seeing the other woman—and she wanted to be his wife. So I got my divorce and a nice settlement. And Ted got a new, younger wife. And except for how I still feel guilty that I didn’t press assault charges against him, that should have been the end of it, right?”

He rubbed a soothing hand up and down her arm. “But it wasn’t.”

“I tried to keep going in Southern California. But then Ted started coming around again, talking reconciliation, as if I would even let him near me, as if he didn’t have a wife waiting at home. I decided I needed to make a new start—or rather, I realized what I really wanted was to come back where I began and try to get it right this time.”

He tipped her chin up then and kissed her.

She said shyly, “I do feel like I’m finally getting it right, Quinn. Getting it right with you.”

Those fine words dampened his carefully masked fury against the abusive loser she’d married, enough that he kissed her again. And then he asked, “So you’re sure that your mother’s been in contact with this guy?”

“She wouldn’t admit it straight out, but yes. I’m sure she has. She told me how he wants to get back together with me—and my mother’s all for that. That was when I finally threw her out. I’m done with her, Quinn. Finished.”

Quinn blew out a slow breath. He was no more a fan of Linda Winchester than Linda was of him. And it turned his stomach that the woman would go behind Chloe’s back and encourage the man who’d hurt her.

But there had been deep and painful rifts in his own family, especially back in the day when his father refused to choose between Sondra Oldfield Bravo and Quinn’s mother. It wasn’t all roses now, but it was better. Since returning to Justice Creek, he’d discovered he actually liked his half siblings. That couldn’t have happened if they’d refused to give each other a chance.

“Still,” he said. “There’s a bond there, a strong one, between you and your mother.”

“It’s broken. Broken beyond repair.”

“Chloe, she’s family. You gotta keep that in mind, you know? I’m not saying just forgive her and act like nothing happened. But try to be open, okay? Give it time and see if she comes around, makes amends.”

“I wish I could be as accepting and patient as you are.”

Quinn had to stifle a grunt of disbelief when she said that. Yeah, he might be willing to be patient with her mother. But Chloe’s ex? He’d like to meet good old Ted in a dark alley some night. Only one of them would come out, and it wouldn’t be Davies.

Chloe snuggled in close again. “Can we just...leave the subject of my mother alone for now?”

“Sure. But I got a question.”

She must have picked up something not all that accepting in his tone, because she pushed free of his arms and scooted back to the other couch cushion. “What?”

“You heard from this Ted character since you moved back to Justice Creek?”

Chloe cleared her throat. A definite tell. “No. He, um, hasn’t called.”

Quinn knew then that the guy had been in contact with her. He reminded her, “You and me, we got something special. And I know when you’re not being straight with me.”

She wrapped her arms around herself and pleaded with those pretty blue eyes. “You have to promise me you won’t do anything, won’t...go after him or anything.”

Quinn’s pulse leaped. He couldn’t keep a promise like that. “You just gotta tell me what he did, Chloe. You know that you do, you know that’s how we need to be with each other. We need to tell the truth to each other—and then we can decide what to do about it.”

She swallowed. Hard. “All right. One time.”

“You’ve heard from him one time?”

“Yes. He sent me flowers. With a short note that said how flowers remind him of me and he was sorry it didn’t work out...”

There was more, he was certain. He pushed for it. “And?”

“The note also said that he, um...missed me. I threw everything—the vase, the flowers, that damn note, too—in the trash compactor and ground it all to bits.”

“When was that?”

“A week ago. Last Wednesday night.”

He wanted to pick up her tea mug from the table and hurl it at the far wall. But he kept it together and said levelly, “That was the night we sat out on your deck and talked for two hours.”

She gazed at him warily now. “What are you getting at?”

“I wish you had told me then—or any day or night since then.”

“That’s not fair and you know it. It’s been happening pretty fast with us. Think about it. I just couldn’t tell you, didn’t even know how to tell you—not the night it happened or the next day, or the day after that. I can barely talk about it now.”

She had a point. He knew it. And really, he only wanted to neutralize any threat to her. “I don’t blame you, angel.” He said it softly, without heat. Because it was true. “No way do I blame you.”

Her sweet face crumpled. “You mean that?”

“You know I do.” He reached for her. She let out a small cry and allowed him to wrap his arms around her again. He held her tight, loving the way she felt, so soft in all the right places. “That’s it, then? That’s the only move he’s made on you since you came back home?”

“Yes. That’s it.”

“Did you call him and tell him to leave you alone?”

“Uh-uh. You have no idea how many times in the past I told him to leave me alone. That only seemed to encourage him.”

“I hear that. So, then, don’t engage him.” He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. “Did you go to the police?”

“And tell them what? That my ex-husband sent me flowers out of the blue and a nice little note?”

“Don’t get defensive. I agree that you don’t have anything to charge the creep with. I just want to be sure, to know everything that happened, to know exactly where we stand with this piece of crap.”

“We?” She pushed away from him again, smoothed the yellow skirt of her pretty summer dress over her knees and then looked him straight in the eye. “Quinn. Ted is in no way your problem. This thing with him is for me to solve. I will not drag you into my mess. I don’t want you going after him, or approaching him, or contacting him or getting near him, ever. I need your word on that.”

He would give her anything—the world on a gold platter. But not this. “That guy needs to know you’re not alone anymore. He needs to know someone’s got your back.”

“I couldn’t care less what he needs, Quinn. I’m talking about what I need. And that is to know I can tell you my hardest secrets and trust that you won’t go racing off to solve all my problems for me in your own way. Because they are my problems and I’m the one who gets the final say when it comes to dealing with them. It’s about respect, and you know it. You have to respect me and let me figure out how to mop up the mess I created. Please.”

He really hated that what she said made sense. “You will tell me, if he does anything, if you hear so much as a word from him again?”

“I will, yes.” She folded her hands on her knees. “And you will honor my wishes and let me handle this in my own way?”

He scraped both hands down his face. “You got me up against the ropes here.”

“Because you do respect me. I know you only want to protect me and you have no idea how much I love that about you.”

Love. It was a big word. And it was also the first time she’d used it in reference to him. Quinn liked the way it sounded coming out of that fine mouth of hers. He liked it a lot.

What he didn’t like was not being allowed to teach Ted Davies an important life lesson. Then again, guys like that always managed to get what was coming to them eventually. Quinn fervently hoped he’d have the honor of taking Ted to church when the time came.

“Quinn?” she asked, all breathless and hopeful. “I need your word that you’ll leave Ted alone.”

Damn it to hell. He gave it up. “All right. For now, for as long as he never tries to get in touch with you again, you got my word.”

* * *

Chloe was no fool.

She fully understood what it cost Quinn to make her that promise. He’d done a really good job of hiding his anger at Ted. But already, in the short time they’d been together, she’d learned to read him. He wanted to go after Ted, he needed to do that, needed to step forward and be her protector.

What woman wouldn’t appreciate that in a man?

But he’d done protectiveness one better. He’d agreed to go against what he needed to do and leave Ted alone. Because she’d asked him to. And if she hadn’t already been halfway in love with him, well, that he had made that promise kind of sealed the deal as far as she was concerned.

“Thank you,” she whispered, taking his big hand, turning it over and smoothing his beefy fingers open. “Thank you...” She bent close and pressed a kiss in the center of his rough, hot palm.

“Let’s just hope we’ve seen the last of him,” Quinn muttered gruffly.

She couldn’t agree more. And not only because she wanted nothing to do with her ex. Now there was Quinn to worry about. If Ted made another move on her, convincing Quinn to stay out of it was going to be exponentially tougher.

But they’d spent altogether too much of their evening on unhappy subjects. She forced a brighter tone. “First my mother, then Ted. Let’s forget about both of them for now, huh?” She reached up and smoothed the thick brown hair off his forehead. “Now I want it to be just you and me, here on the sofa, doing whatever comes naturally.”

He studied her face for a moment, his head tipped to the side. And then he kicked off his shoes. She followed suit, sliding off her sandals and pushing them under the coffee table.

“Come here.” He took her by the shoulders, turned her and settled her with her head in his lap.

Chloe stared up at him, feeling better already. The hard things had been said. And now it was just her and Quinn, alone for the evening. He traced the curves of her eyebrows with a slow finger and then caught a lock of her hair and wrapped it around his hand the way he liked to do.

She said, “I hope I didn’t drag you away from anything important at home...”

He shook his head. “Annabelle’s all tucked in bed. Manny and I were just having a beer on the deck.”

“Do you still want to marry me?” The words kind of popped out. She’d hardly known she would say them—until she did.

He gave her his bad-boy half smile. “Oh, yeah. But I’m not pushing. You decide what you want and you do it in your own time.”

“Even after all the grim stuff I told you tonight? I’m not sure I’m such a good bet, Quinn.”

He unwrapped her hair from around his fingers—and then twined it right back again. “You’re not your mother and it’s not your fault that your ex is a psycho dog. You are a good bet, angel. You’re a fine woman with a big heart, the best there is.”

His generous words warmed her, made a glow down inside her that all the trials of the afternoon and evening couldn’t dim.

I think I’m falling in love with you, Quinn.

It sounded so right inside her head. But she wasn’t quite ready to say it out loud yet. Talk of love still had some taint for her. It still held ugly echoes of the past.

She shut her eyes and drifted, cradled, safe, with her head in Quinn’s lap.

Marriage. To Quinn.

Was she ready for that? They’d been together such a short time and she’d messed up so badly before. How could she be certain?

She opened her eyes.

And he was gazing down at her, steady. Sure. Not having to say anything, just being there with her.

When she looked in his eyes, her doubts about herself and her future and her iffy judgment just melted away. When she looked in Quinn’s eyes, she was sure.

And come on. She’d dated Ted for a year before she said yes to him. And then it was another year until their lavish wedding. She’d given herself plenty of time to really know Ted. She’d done everything right.

And still, it all went wrong. Ted was the man her mother wanted for her.

And Quinn?

It was so simple. Quinn was the one she wanted for herself. He was her choice, her second chance to get it right. She trusted him. She knew he would be good to her, that she would be good for him—and for Annabelle and Manny, too.

Together, they could make a full, rich life, the life she’d always wanted. The life she’d given up hope that she would ever find.

Until now. Until Quinn.

He unwound her hair again. And she sat up and took his arm and wrapped it across her shoulders. He gathered her closer. She drew her legs up onto the sofa and folded them to the side so she was facing him. Looking right into those wonderful eyes, she said, “Well, I’ve decided, then. And my decision is...” She stretched up enough to nip his scruffy jaw with her teeth. “Yes.”

For once, he actually looked taken completely off guard. “What did you say?”

“I said yes, Quinn. I will marry you. I want it to be a small, simple wedding, just family and close friends. And I want it to be soon.”

“Chloe.” He took her face between those big hands. “Seriously? You’re sure?” He looked so vulnerable right then, as if he couldn’t quite believe she really meant it.

She did mean it. “Yes, I am very sure.”

“Damn,” he whispered prayerfully.

He kissed her, a kiss that curled her bare toes and created that incomparable heavy, hot yearning down in the core of her. And then he scooped her up in those big arms of his and carried her to her bedroom.

Late into the night, he showed her exactly how happy her decision had made him.

Dawn was breaking when he left her. She stood out on her front porch in a robe and slippers, watching him walk across the street to his temporary home, knowing her hair needed combing and her eyes were low and lazy. She was fully aware that she had the look of a woman thoroughly and repeatedly satisfied—and she didn’t care in the least who saw her.

She’d made her decision. She was marrying Quinn and finally getting the life she’d always dreamed of.

Chapter Eight

At the showroom a few hours later, Chloe called Tai and asked her to come in early.

At ten, Quinn picked her up. They drove to Denver, where they had lunch and he bought her a beautiful engagement ring and a platinum wedding ring to match. She bought him a ring, too, a thick platinum band that she couldn’t wait to slip on his finger when the big day came. She was back at her showroom by four.

That evening, just as she was letting herself in the front door, the house phone rang. She saw it was her parents’ number and let it go to the machine.

A few minutes later, she checked to see what her mother had said. But it turned out it was her dad. He’d left a two-sentence message: “Chloe, this is your dad. Please call me.”

She did, right then.

He asked her if she was all right and Chloe told him that she would be fine.

Doug Winchester said, “Your mother’s just brokenhearted over what happened last night.”

Chloe refused to let him play the guilt card on her. “We don’t see eye-to-eye, Mom and me. And I don’t think that either of us will be changing our positions anytime soon.”

“She loves you. You know that. I love you.”

“Thanks, Daddy. I love you, too. But sometimes love really can’t make everything right. Not with Mom, anyway. With Mom, it’s her way or nothing. And I’m through doing things her way. In fact, Quinn’s asked me to marry him and I’ve said yes.”

The line went dead silent. Then her father asked cautiously, “Isn’t this a little sudden?”

She resisted the urge to say something snappish. “I care for him deeply, Dad. It’s what I want.”

“You’re sure?”

“I am.”

Another silence. And then her father had the good grace to say that he hoped she would be happy. “I think I’ll wait a few days to tell your mother about your engagement, though.”

“Right now, Dad, I don’t care if you tell her or not.”

“Chloe. You don’t mean that.”

She didn’t argue. What was the point? “I’ll call and let you know about the wedding. It’s going to be small and simple.” Nothing like the three-ring circus in Sonoma when she’d married Ted. “I hope you can come. Quinn wants me to be patient with Mom, so I’m going to give it a little time before I decide whether I’m willing to have her at the wedding.”

Another deep silence from her dad. Then, “Let’s just see how things go, shall we?”

Chloe agreed that would be wise. They said goodbye.

A few hours later, when Quinn came over, she cried a little for her fractured family. He held her and told her it would all turn out all right. Somehow, when he said it, she almost believed it.

* * *

Friday morning first thing, Nell Bravo dropped by Chloe’s showroom. Chloe broke the big news and showed off her gorgeous ring.

Nell said, “So, then. This makes it official. You’re gonna be my sister. And that means we’ll have to bury the hatchet permanently, you and me.”

“You know, you really scare me when you talk about hatchets.”

Nell laughed and grabbed Chloe in a hug and waltzed her in and out of the various carpet and flooring displays. Then Quinn’s sister confessed, “I already knew. Quinn told me this morning. And I’m here to find out when you’re breaking for lunch so I can get a table at the Sylvan Inn for you and me and my sisters.”

Chloe met the Bravo sisters at the Sylvan Inn at one. There were four of them. Clara and Elise were the daughters of Franklin Bravo’s first wife, Sondra. Jody’s and Nell’s mother was the notorious Willow Mooney Bravo, who’d been Frank’s mistress during most of his marriage to Sondra. The day after Sondra Bravo’s funeral, Willow married Frank. He moved her right into the mansion he’d built for Sondra. Frank Bravo’s refusal to observe even a minimal period of mourning after Sondra’s passing caused no end of shock and outrage in the angry hearts of the judgmental types in town, Chloe’s mother first among them.

Tracy Winham, Elise’s best friend and business partner, joined them, too. And so did Rory Bravo-Calabretti, a cousin to the Bravo sisters. Rory was an actual princess from a tiny country called Montedoro. But Rory didn’t act like a princess. She loved Justice Creek and she was down-to-earth and lots of fun. Recently she’d decided to make her home in America. She lived with her fiancé, Walker McKellan, at Walker’s guest ranch not far from town.

As a matter of fact, all the Bravo women were lots of fun. Even more so after a couple of glasses of the champagne Nell had ordered to toast Chloe and Quinn and their future happiness together. Chloe never drank alcohol at lunch. After all, she still had half a day of work ahead and she preferred to be alert and clearheaded on the job.

But today, she drank the champagne—more than she should have. And she had a fabulous time sharing stories about the old days with Quinn’s sisters.

“Quinn was always so moody,” said Jody, and everyone nodded. “He was mad at everything and just about everybody.”

“But even then there was a certain sweetness about him,” said Clara, who was Sondra’s oldest daughter and considered the family peacemaker.

Back in the day, when the two sides of Frank’s family were constantly at odds, Clara was the one who kept trying to get them to make peace and come together. She and Quinn and Chloe were the same age.

“I remember,” Clara said, “when we were in Miss Oakleaf’s class, first grade. Remember, Chloe?”

“Yes, I do. Miss Oakleaf was so pretty. I wanted to be just like her when I grew up.”

“Oh, me, too,” Clara agreed.

“She pinned her hair up in a twist and she always looked so elegant. And she wore high heels and pencil skirts.” Chloe frowned. “Were they even called pencil skirts back then?”

Clara considered. “Straight skirts, I think. And yeah. Miss Oakleaf was a beauty. Quinn had a big crush on her.”

“She was patient with him,” Chloe said softly, remembering how he struggled to keep up with the rest of the class.

Clara remembered, too. “He would get mad and act up and she would talk to him so gently.”

“And then,” said Chloe, “the Hershey’s Kisses started appearing on her desk every morning...”

Clara took up the story. “Just a few of them, lined up in their shiny silver foil wrappers, waiting there for Miss Oakleaf on her desk pad at the beginning of every day.”

“No one knew who was leaving them,” said Chloe.

And Clara said, “Until Freddy Harmon spotted Quinn in the act. Freddy spied on Quinn through the window, didn’t he, and saw him sneak in and put three Kisses on Miss Oakleaf’s desk?”

“That’s right,” Chloe replied softly. “Quinn was so humiliated...” She shook her head, aching for the troubled little boy he’d once been.

Jody said, “The way I heard it, he went ballistic.”

Clara nodded. “He chased Freddy around the playground till he caught him, and then he beat the crap out of him. For that, Quinn was suspended for two weeks. Looking back on our elementary school years, it seems like he spent more time suspended or in detention than he ever spent in class.”

They all laughed. They could afford to laugh about it now that Quinn was a grown man who’d built himself a fine, productive life.

Nell asked, “Remember that time he and Jamie and Dare got into it on the playground?” James and Darius were Clara’s and Elise’s full brothers, Sondra’s sons.

Elise nodded. “It was two against one. Plus, Jamie and Dare were older and bigger. But Quinn just wouldn’t give up and go down.”

Rory shook her head. “It’s so strange, knowing him now, to hear what a troublemaker he used to be.”

“By the time he was twelve or so,” Clara said, “no one would fight with him. By then, they all knew that he would never quit. If you took on Quinn Bravo, it was going to be long and ugly and there would be way too much blood.”

“But look how he turned out,” Tracy piped up. “Rich and successful, with a beautiful daughter, about to marry the one and only Chloe Winchester.” Tracy raised her glass and everyone followed suit. “To Chloe. You go, girl.”

Chloe blushed a little. “Aww.”

Nell shook her gorgeous head of auburn hair. “Chloe. Seriously. You and Quinn? Never woulda seen that coming.”

Chloe beamed at her future sister-in-law, her heart full of fondness, her brain pleasantly hazy with the champagne and the good family feelings. She really was starting to feel seriously bondy with Nell. Was it only five days ago that they’d squared off in the trailer at Bravo Construction?

“Heads up, my sisters,” Elise whispered out of the side of her mouth. “Don’t look now, but here comes trouble.”

Trouble in the tall, thin form of Monique Hightower. Wearing jeans, a silk top and giant sunglasses, Monique had just breezed in the door. She said something to the hostess and then spotted the Bravo women at the round table in the center of the dining room. Slowly, she eased the big sunglasses up to rest on her head. And then she smiled.

And then she came striding on over. “Hey, Clara, Elise, everyone. Looks like a party...”

Nell said, “It is. We are celebrating.”

About then, Monique zeroed in on Chloe. “Chloe. Well. How’s every little thing?”

Chloe raised her champagne glass—with her left hand, so that her engagement diamond caught the light and sparkled. “Remember how I told you if I played my cards right, I might have a chance with Quinn?”

Somebody snickered. Chloe thought it was Elise, but it could have been Tracy.

Monique’s eyes got wider. “Wow. That’s, uh...” For once, she actually seemed at a loss for words. Chloe savored the moment.

Then Nell instructed, “Pull yourself together, Monique. Quinn and Chloe are getting married. You need to wish my future sister-in-law a life of love and happiness.”

Monique sent Nell a quelling glance that had zero effect on Quinn’s baby sister. Nell just rolled her eyes and drank more champagne as Monique trotted out another big, fake smile and a too-perky “Best wishes, Chloe. Quinn’s a lucky man.”

“Thank you, Monique.”

Clara, ever the peacemaker, offered, “Monique, why don’t you join us for a glass of champagne?”

Everyone went dead quiet then. They’d been having such a great time and Monique would have them trying to remember to watch what they said, because anything Monique heard was fair game for her gossip mill.

Then Monique sighed. “Wish I could. But I got called in early. I need to change and get to work.”

“That’s too bad.” Somehow Nell kept a straight face when she said it.

By then, Monique had recovered her equilibrium. “Chloe. That ring is spectacular. And truly, I’m so happy for you.”

“Monique. What can I say? Thank you again. That’s so nice to hear.” And strangely enough, it kind of was. Chloe had the definite warm fuzzies at the moment. She was crazy about the Bravo women, crazy about Quinn. Crazy about everyone. She was even crazy about Monique, who couldn’t keep a confidence if her life depended on it.

Champagne at lunchtime? She should try it more often.

Nobody said a word until Monique disappeared into the kitchen. And then Nell tapped her water glass with her spoon. “So. Engagement party. We need to throw one.”

Chloe started to protest that they didn’t have to.

But then again, that could be fun, right?

How much fun had she had in her life, really?

Not enough. She’d always been mama’s good girl, a busy little bee, working so hard to do everything right, to get straight As and get into a great college and find the perfect husband to make a perfect life.

There’d been no time for fun, not when she was so laser-focused on chasing the life her mother wanted for her.

And after her marriage to Ted? Well, it only went downhill from there. Hard to have fun when your life that looked so perfect on the outside was empty at the core, when you lived with a man you couldn’t trust not to hurt you.

But now she had Quinn and anything seemed possible. All the good things: passion and tenderness and lots of laughter. And sisters to call her own.

And, for the first time, champagne at lunch.

Chloe let Quinn’s sisters plan the party. She smiled and nodded and giggled a lot.

Nell leaned close to her. “Better cut back on the bubbly, baby.”

And Chloe giggled some more. But she took Nell’s advice and started drinking ice water. By three-thirty, when they left the restaurant, she was almost sober.

They filed out to the parking lot. There were hugs and cheek kisses. Chloe thanked them all profusely.

Nell tapped her shoulder. “You still look a little high. Ride with me. You can get your car later.”

So just to be on the safe side, she let Nell take her back to the showroom. When Nell pulled in at the curb, Chloe leaned across the seats and hugged her good and hard. “I’m so glad you’re going to be my sister. I never had a sister before.”

Nell hugged her back. “Well, now you’ve got four—five, including Tracy, who always gets insulted if we don’t include her.”

* * *

That evening, Manny went to Boulder to visit his girlfriend. Quinn and Annabelle picked Chloe up at the showroom and took her back to the restaurant to get her car.

Then she joined them at the log house. They had pizza. And after Annabelle was all ready for bed, they watched Frozen, which Annabelle seemed to know by heart.

She kept popping in with “Look out!” or “Watch this!” just before something surprising would happen.

Quinn finally had to pause the movie and remind her that it was no fun to watch a movie when little girls were shouting.

Annabelle was sweetly contrite. She turned to Chloe. “I’m sorry, Chloe. I’m not s’posed to do that. But I get so ’cited!”

Chloe said, “Well, maybe if you don’t do it again, your dad will let us watch the rest.”

Annabelle turned those big brown eyes on Quinn. “Daddy, I promise I will be quiet.”

She managed to get through the rest of the movie without a single exclamation. And by the end, she had edged up close to Chloe on the sofa and rested her head against Chloe’s arm. Chloe treasured that small, perfect moment: the first time Annabelle had leaned on her.

It took a while to get the little girl to bed for the night. Quinn spent twenty minutes or so tucking her in. Then, half an hour later, she came out carrying a ratty blanket and an ancient-looking one-eyed teddy bear and demanded that he chase the monsters away. Quinn scooped her up in his arms, blanket, bear and all. He sent Chloe a sheepish look before heading upstairs to Annabelle’s bedroom.

“I think she’ll stay in bed now,” he said when he returned a few minutes later. He confessed that he enjoyed chasing monsters. “It’s more of a game with us than anything.”

“Don’t even think you need to explain,” Chloe reassured him. “It looked like you were both having fun and she didn’t seem scared in the least.”

“Manny says I’m a sucker for Annabelle’s monster act.”

Chloe chuckled. “Sometimes being a sucker is a good thing.”

“I’m going to tell Manny you said that.”

They sat on the sofa in the living room in front of the unlit fireplace, with the lights on low. He reached over and ran a finger along the curve of her cheek.

She shivered a little in pleasure, remembering that first night, when he’d come up the hill to her. His daughter had been on his mind that night. “Did she ever have more questions for you about her mom?”

He idly smoothed a curl of her hair back over her shoulder. “Not yet. Just about every night, I think she’s going to bring it up. But then she doesn’t.”

“Give her time.”

“I just hope when she does that I don’t blow it.”

“No way can you blow it, Quinn. You love her and she loves you. She feels safe and protected. And you give her space, you really do. She’s allowed to be a little girl, to let her imagination run a little wild...” Chloe felt kind of wistful suddenly.

And Quinn picked up on that. “Hey...” He touched her mouth, traced the bow of her upper lip. “Why the sad face?”

“I don’t know. I had a great time with your sisters today at lunch. And it kind of got me thinking that I never had much fun growing up.”

“Too busy trying to please your mom?”

“That’s right.” She made the edges of her mouth turn up. “But I think I’ll look on the bright side. Your sisters will be my sisters. Did I tell you they’re throwing us an engagement party? Probably at McKellan’s, in the party room upstairs.” The popular pub was owned by Ryan McKellan, lifetime best friend of Clara Bravo. Ryan’s brother, Walker, was engaged to the family princess, Rory.

“And when is this big event?”

“Tentatively, Saturday night two weeks from tomorrow. Clara said she’d get with Ryan and call me this weekend to firm up the date, location and time.”

He hooked an arm around her and drew her close against his side. His warm lips brushed her hair. “Did you know that Clara and Dalton are getting married in three weeks?”

“I did, yes.” Clara had a baby daughter, Kiera Anne, with Dalton Ames, president of Ames Bank and Trust. From what Chloe had heard, Clara had taken her time saying yes to her baby’s father. But anyone who saw them together could see how much in love they were.

Quinn added, “It’ll be a small wedding, Clara said. Food and drinks at her house afterward.”

“I heard. Nell said she thought Clara had too much on her plate. So, as soon as Clara sets up our engagement party with Ryan, Nell’s taking over to pull the party together.”

“You should know we’re going to Clara’s wedding.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “You, me, Manny and Annabelle.”

“I would love to.” She snuggled in, rubbing her cheek against the soft knit fabric of his shirt.

He traced the line of her jaw with his thumb, and then tipped up her chin so she looked in his eyes. “Hey.”

“What?”

“The other night, when you said yes?”

“Um?” Oh, those beautiful eyes of his. She could just fall down inside them and never come out.

“You said you wanted it small—and soon. So...” He lowered his wonderful bad-boy lips and brushed a hint of a kiss across her upturned mouth. “What do you say we set the date?”

Set the date. Her heart contracted. Worse, she was suddenly thinking of her mother, and of Ted. Problems. Unresolved problems. Her problems that she’d yet to deal with effectively...

But then again, how resolved were things ever going to get with those two? She might never speak to her mother again. And Ted? The best that could happen with him would be nothing. Ever. For the rest of her life.

So it wasn’t about resolving anything; it wasn’t about closure...

“Chloe?” Quinn looked at her so tenderly, reminding her suddenly of the little boy who never fit in at school and used to sneak inside before class to leave chocolate candy Kisses for the teacher who’d been kind to him. “So when you said soon, you didn’t mean that soon?” He asked the question gently.

She let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “I’m thinking if we could at least wait until after the engagement party to start planning the wedding?”

His chuckled, the sound low and lovely. “I just don’t get it. Why are you dragging your feet? We’ve been engaged for two whole days now.”

She echoed his teasing tone. “People will start thinking we have trouble making commitments.”

But then his expression turned serious. “Is it all going too fast for you?”

“I didn’t say that.” She hated the edge of defensiveness in her tone.

“Hey. I mean it. We can have a long engagement if you want it that way. It’s okay with me.”

“But I don’t want a long engagement.” It came out as a whine. Dear God, what was the matter with her? Her emotions were bouncing all over the place. She made it worse by grumbling, “And I meant it about a small, simple wedding, too. I really did.”

“Easy.” He bent close, nipped a kiss against her throat.

“Sorry,” she murmured, honestly contrite, not really understanding herself at that moment.

He nuzzled her cheek. “We got no problem here.”

Oh, yes, we do. I’m the problem. My mother’s a hopeless bitch and I married a psychopath-in-training.

Why would a great guy like Quinn, with everything going for him now, with a good life he’d worked so hard to earn, want to marry someone with her history and track record, anyway?

People always used to treat her like some kind of prize. She was no prize. Not anymore, anyway. In her case, the bloom was seriously off the rose. Perfect Chloe Winchester? What a joke.

And wait a minute.

Really, she needed to snap out of it.

Where had all these grim thoughts come from?

It was dangerous to start running herself down. Half the battle for sanity and a good life was in keeping her spirits up, fostering a positive attitude.

She’d worked hard to face the tough challenges life had thrown in her path. She’d survived the disaster of her own choice, her own making: her marriage to Ted. She’d fought and fought hard to get free, to make a new life. To hold her head up and move on.

And she’d honestly begun to believe that she’d done it, that she’d put the past behind her.

Until Ted sent her flowers and made her fear deep in her soul that she hadn’t seen the last of him, after all. Until her mother showed up on her doorstep spouting such ugliness and rage, revealing such an unforgiveable betrayal, that she’d had no choice but to sever ties with her.

Maybe it wasn’t the wedding she was putting off. Maybe she’d had no right to tell Quinn that she’d marry him in the first place.

Maybe she needed to face the fact that he deserved better than her.

“Chloe?”

“Um?”

“We got no problem at all,” he said again, more softly, but more firmly, too.

She met his eyes. They were so steady. So knowing and wise. She asked in a tiny, weak, disgusting little voice, “We don’t?”

“Uh-uh. We got each other, Chloe. We got it all.”

And somehow, when he looked at her like that, when he spoke with such affection and total confidence, she believed him.

She absolutely believed him.

I love you, Quinn. She thought the words and knew that they were true.

If only she felt she had the right to say them out loud.

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