After Hours Seduction (The Men 0f Stone River Book 1)

by Janice Maynard

As it turned out, they didn’t leave the suite until dinnertime. Quin was insatiable. So was she. If living in a fantasy was wrong, then her punishment would come later. For now, she was committed to enjoying the moment, a moment that was impossibly wonderful.

  The sex ranged from playful to hungry to slow and sweet. In between, they napped, wrapped in each other’s arms. She had thought she knew Quin. But he showed her new sides to him that their earlier affair had never revealed. It was as if he had dropped some unseen armor.

  Katie’s emotions were full. Happiness and peace. Fear and trembling. She was going to fall long and hard.

  As she rested her cheek over Quin’s heart, she knew the consequences would be worth every minute she spent in this bed.

  Finally, he rolled over and yawned and glanced at the clock. “Good Lord, Kat. We’re gonna need a redo of this weekend.”

  She lifted an eyebrow? “The sex? Count me in. But if you’re talking about all the rest, I’ve seen plenty of movies set in New York. I swear I can fill in the blanks. Besides, you took me to see Hamilton. That was a great start. I’ll save the Empire State Building for another day.”

  He yawned again. “Sorry,” he muttered. He picked up his phone. “I know a couple of great restaurants you’d like. Let me see where I can get a reservation. I may have left it too late.”

  She snatched his phone and tossed it on the far side of the huge bed. “I still haven’t gotten my hot dog from a street vendor. Couldn’t we find one and have a picnic in Central Park?”

  “Half the benches have pigeon poop on them, and the park will be full of joggers and tourists.”

  She pinched his cheek. “I’m a tourist, remember? You said you wanted to make me happy.” She batted her lashes dramatically.

  “Unbelievable.” He rolled his eyes, laughing. “We’re surrounded by some of the finest haute cuisine in the world, and you want a meat stick of unknown origin?”

  “Geez, Quin. Do you rich guys ever get down and dirty with the masses? Live a little. There’s a good chance we won’t get food poisoning.”

  “I wouldn’t take bets on that,” he grumbled. “But if I’m going to die later, I think I need a reason to live right now.”

  He pretended to roll on top of her. She shoved at his chest, knowing that for once, he was kidding about sex. “We skipped lunch, you maniac. You have to feed me. I’m pretty sure I read that in the fine print somewhere.”

  “You are such a diva,” he complained. “First you want breakfast, then lunch. Now a hot dog? The things I do for you...”

  She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. “I never got lunch,” she reminded him. “Give me five minutes in the bathroom to get dressed. Then it’s your turn.”

  “We could shower together,” he said, looking hopeful.

  “Put a pin in that. I could be persuaded. But not until I’ve had my hot dog.”

  Ten

  Quin helped Katie into the cab and slid in beside her. He was relaxed and mellow, definitely inclined to indulge the woman sitting near him. She had begged to walk to the corner and hail a cab the old-fashioned way, insisting that summoning a private car via phone was no fun at all.

  Now he leaned forward to speak to the cabbie, feeling a bit ridiculous. “The lady wants to find a street vendor and buy a hot dog. I’m willing to double the fare. Can you help us out with that? But not too far, because we’re taking it to the park afterward.”

  The cabbie nodded, though his dubious expression in the rearview mirror was a dead giveaway. Quin presumed the poor man probably dealt with crazy tourists on a regular basis. This impromptu hot dog trip might be the most boring part of his day.

  Fortunately, they found what Katie wanted without driving across town. Maybe the driver had a relative in the food services industry. Whatever the explanation, soon the cab was idling at the curb while Katie and Quin bought bottled water and hot dogs with all the trimmings.

  When they were back in the car, the cabbie swung around the block and headed toward the park. “Does it matter where I drop you?” he asked.

  “Nope. Anywhere will do,” Quin said.

  Katie held the large bag in two arms. Quin had insisted on multiple hot dogs, bags of chips and some packaged oatmeal cookies. His companion stared into the bag lustfully, pausing to inhale now and then.

  The cab rolled to a halt at a popular entrance not far from the hotel. The unadorned path led down a slope into the heart of the park. Quin paid the driver. “This way,” he said to Katie. They found an unoccupied bench and put the food between them. “Happy now?” he asked, smiling. The humidity was down. Though the park was indeed crowded, the summer evening felt near perfect.

  “Definitely.” She handed him one of the all-the-way dogs. She had added only mustard and pickles to hers. She took a big bite and sighed.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing. Not really. It’s just not quite as good as the ones you get at a baseball stadium.”

  “I don’t want to say I told you so.”

  “But you’re gonna...”

  He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Maybe.”

  “Well, I don’t care. Even if the hot dog isn’t the icon of culinary enjoyment I had hoped, the setting more than makes up for it. I had no idea Central Park was so big.”

  “It’s two and a half miles long and half a mile wide.”

  “I’m impressed.” She licked mustard off her fingers one at a time, which shouldn’t have been particularly erotic to Quin, but it was. “Are we going to walk after this?”

  “I thought we would. If you still want to.”

  “I’m game.” Her neat khaki shorts bared legs that were slim and strong and capable. Her running shoes were turquoise and matched her nylon, scoop-necked top.

  They finished everything but the cookies. Quin looked at the cellophane-wrapped sweets. The expiration date was eight months in the future. “Let’s order dessert from room service when we get back,” he said. “The hotel restaurant has a great pastry chef. Triple chocolate cake, bourbon pecan pie, gourmet banana pudding slathered with whipped cream. You name it.” He dropped the two unopened packages in the trash.

  Katie tried to stop him at the last second, but she was too late. The additive-laden snacks were down in the hole with melting ice cream, empty drink cans and already-chewed gum.

  “Why did you toss them?” she cried. “That’s so wasteful.”

  “It was a couple of bucks, Katie. No big deal.”

  “I could have given them to a street person.”

  Suddenly, there was tension back in the equation. And it wasn’t the sizzling, nerve tingling kind. “I’m sorry,” he said stiffly. “I’ll ask next time. Let’s go.”

  He walked swiftly, stretching his leg and his knee until the muscles burned. The doctor had said to take it easy for six more weeks. Didn’t get much easier than a stroll through the park.

  Katie walked beside him except for the moments when people passed them. Quin showed her the Imagine memorial to John Lennon, who had lived nearby and whose ashes had been scattered in the park almost four decades before.

  Katie loved the Alice in Wonderland statue, the group of bears sculpture and also the small man-made lake, where adults and children sailed toy boats and made memories.

  By the time they hit the pond, they had been walking rapidly for almost an hour. Katie plopped down on a concrete step, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. “Let’s take a break. This is a beautiful spot.”

  “One of my favorites,” he said, sitting hip to hip with his charming but unpredictable companion. He almost curled his arm around her, but Katie had put up some kind of do-not-disturb thing between them. He didn’t want to disrupt the momentary accord.

  After a few moments, she shot him a sideways glance. “Why doesn’t Stone River Outdoors have offices here?” she asked.


  “Manhattan real estate is too damn expensive. Plus, it’s not really necessary. We’re so close timewise. We can easily fly down from Maine and back in a day trip...like Farrell and Zachary did yesterday.”

  “Ah.”

  “May I ask you another question?” she said softly, staring out across the water. “It’s personal.”

  His stomach tightened. “Of course.”

  “I saw your knee—while we were having sex. I’m assuming the two longest, newest scars are from the recent knee replacement.”

  His hands fisted on his thighs. “Yes.”

  “I didn’t know there were so many others. Scars, I mean.”

  He shrugged. “They worked hard to rebuild my knee after it was mangled in the car crash.”

  She touched his leg. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

  His stomach curled. He didn’t like talking about the accident. “You said you had a question?”

  “Will you be able to ski again competitively?”

  He knew the answer, knew it well. But he could barely speak the words. “No. Not a chance,” he said bluntly. “Even if I manage to get back out there on the slopes, I won’t be able to ski aggressively enough to be a contender. When you’re competing in the downhill events, you have to take chances. You have to snap those quick turns with precision, dig in your skis, gain every possible second. I can’t do that anymore.”

  Admitting the truth to himself and to Katie was both cathartic and deeply painful.

  She patted his leg, stroking it almost absentmindedly. “And skiing for pleasure?”

  “The doc says yes. As long as I don’t try too soon and screw things up like I did a few months ago. He thinks when everything heals properly, I should be able to do a nice downhill run on the bunny slopes.”

  “Seriously?” Her expression was aghast.

  “No, not seriously. But it might as well be the bunny slopes. Nothing is going to be the same.”

  “You could find your joy in other places,” she said. The sympathy in her dark eyes was a gift he wasn’t willing to accept.

  “Skiing is all I have, Katie. The sport has defined me for so long I don’t know who I am without the wind and the mountain and the cold sting of snow in my face.”

  “A lot of wealthy people support charitable causes. They can even change the world. Maybe it’s hard to see right now, because you’ve had so many disappointments. But helping people might be a way you can re-create the fulfillment skiing gave you.”

  He felt as if she was picking at a scab deep in his soul. “Let’s change the subject,” he said gruffly. Her slight flinch told him she recognized the butt-out subtext. To her credit, she didn’t push.

  “Okay,” Katie said. “Then tell me about Farrell’s wife. I’ve heard snippets of gossip, but I’d like to know the truth. From you.”

  It was a definite relief to shift the focus away from the personal topics Quin hadn’t even sorted out for himself yet. “Farrell married his high school sweetheart, but only after a long, horrible battle with our father.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He rubbed three fingers in the center of his forehead. “I don’t remember if you ever ran into my father at the office. Not likely. He didn’t enjoy mingling with the common people.” Quin snorted. “He didn’t much like people at all. To be honest, he spent most of our lives warning us about the leeches—his words, not mine—who would try to use us.”

  Katie shuddered visibly. “What made him like that?”

  “Our mother died when I was born. Apparently, a lot of women wanted to help the rich widower grieve. For a price. I think he really loved our mother. I don’t know if he was always cynical and hard, but he surely was after she was gone.”

  “What does that have to do with Farrell?”

  “Farrell and Sasha started dating when they were sixteen. Dad didn’t like it, but he figured it was puppy love, so he mostly left them alone. Then somehow, Farrell graduated one day and bought Sasha a ring the next.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “Yeah. It was romantic as hell, but the old man was furious. He sent Farrell off to college on the West coast and, on the sly, told Sasha that she was ruining Farrell’s life. I was still too young to pay much attention to what was going on, but Farrell has told me the stories. Farrell knew that what he and Sasha had was the real deal. But he didn’t know what Dad had done to Sasha. Eventually he dragged the truth out of her. It killed him that she had been hurt so badly, especially by our father.”

  Katie trembled inside. “But you all still had relationships with your father. Was it only because of the business?”

  Quin shook his head slowly. “It’s a long story, more than you want to hear.”

  “Okay. Then finish the other one.”

  “Farrell and Sasha kept in touch by email and phone calls after he went off to college. Then when they both turned twenty-one, Farrell came home, told our father to go to hell and married his sweetheart.”

  Katie was spellbound. “That’s such a beautiful story, at least Farrell’s part.”

  “Not so much after Sasha got sick. Aggressive breast cancer. He lost her when they were both only twenty-five years old.”

  A single tear rolled down Katie’s cheek. Quin caught it with the tip of his finger. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

  “I know. I’ve worked for your brother a long time. I suppose I’ve always been curious. He never dates anybody that I can tell. Now I know why. I can’t imagine losing the love of your life at such a young age. It must have been devastating.”

  “The tragedy affected all of us. I’d like to believe even the old man felt a shred of guilt, but I don’t know. Zachary took the exact opposite road. He’s had more females in his life than a cat has kittens. He keeps all his women at arm’s length. Calls the shots. Walks away when the relationship reaches its expiration date. He’s funny and smart and charming as hell, but he never lets anybody get too close.”

  “And you, Quin? How did Sasha’s death affect you?”

  * * *

  Katie jumped to her feet, jolted by the expression on Quin’s face. She wanted to know everything about his past, but not if it meant hurting him. He’d never offered her that kind of personal deep dive before.

  “Forget I asked,” she begged. “That’s way too personal a question between you and me. Sex, yes. Unburdening soul-deep secrets, no.”

  In her defense, hearing that Mr. Stone Sr. had treated another woman as abysmally as he treated Katie rattled her. She had clung to her desperate humiliation and her injured pride for far too long. The man was dead. He couldn’t hurt her anymore. The only person who could mess things up now was Katie herself.

  Was she holding Quin to some impossible standard of perfection? God knows, she had plenty of faults of her own. She liked playing the role of savior. She could be too pushy at times. And she had a chip on her shoulder about Quin’s money.

  Still, her fear held her back, because she wanted him to connect with her intimately. And she wasn’t sure such a thing was possible. Even if Quin wanted more than a few weeks of sexual excess, she was scared to think about what that might mean. It was easier and safer to micromanage other people’s problems than to take a good, hard look at her own.

  She held out her hand, smiling, pretending that she and Quin were nothing more than friends with benefits. “You ready to head back to the hotel? I see a shower in my future.”

  “Our future,” Quin said waggling his eyebrows. “Remember?” He rolled to his feet. “I’ll wash those spots you can’t reach.”

  She knew he was teasing. Playing the goofball for her amusement. But the words gave her a thrill. Deep in the base of her abdomen, little firecrackers began to ignite.

  “Can you run?” she asked.

  He stared at her blankly, a crease between his eyebrows. �
��What do you mean?”

  “The doctor. Your recovery. Taking it easy. Can you run?”

  He stared at her intently. Suddenly, the wanting and the waiting were back and all mixed up with the emotional wringer he had put her through in telling his family’s story.

  Quin nodded slowly. “As long as it’s not too far and not too fast.”

  “Excellent. See if you can catch me, Quinten Stone. If you do, maybe I’ll wash a few spots for you.” Katie took off jogging, no doubt taking Quin by surprise. But if she did surprise him, he didn’t waste any time playing catch-up.

  When she glanced over her shoulder, Quin was closing the distance she had put between them. The masculine scowl on his face sent a trickle of excitement down her spine. He looked predatory, determined.

  Katie was running faster than she had planned. Suddenly, she remembered Farrell telling her about Quin’s intensity, his laser focus. The way he pushed and pushed until he achieved his goals.

  Only right now, Quin was supposed to be taking it easy. For a few more weeks. So his body could heal.

  Katie stopped dead in the middle of the path. People went around her as if she were an island parting a river into two streams. She put her hands to her cheeks. “I am so sorry, Quin. I wasn’t thinking. It was a game. But I don’t want you to get hurt. Not again.”

  He pulled up short, right in front of her. Practically nose to nose. He slid his hands into her hair, tipped her head back, smashed his mouth over hers. “You make me crazy, Katie Duncan.”

  Frustration vibrated in his big frame. She could feel his turmoil.

  Was that why she had run? Not a game at all, but a ploy to be chased? Captured? Subdued?

  “Ditto, Quin.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. We’re supposed to be working.”

  He nuzzled her nose with his. “Not on the weekend. Everybody deserves a couple of days off.”

  “You’re one of the big bosses. I suppose you could take off any day you want to... Isn’t that where the term playboy comes from? A rich guy who can pilot a yacht or fly a helicopter or...” She trailed off, realizing she had backed herself into a corner.