All It Takes

by Proby, Kristen

  “Fuck that.” His eyes are angry now, and he steps to me, not touching me, but close enough that I can smell him. “You don’t get to label me based on my office or the car I drive, Sienna, any more than I get to label you for those things. I don’t come from money, and I don’t give a fuck about what your office looks like. I enjoy you. I want to spend an evening with you, and my family. It’s that basic. If you don’t want to go, just say so, but don’t make up some chickenshit excuse about cakes and headaches, and don’t ever throw my money in my face. I work damn hard for what I have, just like you do.”

  Well, shit.

  Now I feel embarrassed and ashamed.

  I should.

  Quinn stalks away from me and stares out of his office window to the city. The sun is setting, and the buildings are lit up.

  “I refuse to apologize for my success,” he mutters.

  I press my fingers into my eyes, and then I take a deep breath and prepare myself for the apology that he deserves.

  “I fucked up.”

  “Big-time,” he agrees.

  I cross to him, and stand next to him, crossing my arms over my chest and staring out the window.

  “I bought a dress yesterday,” I begin.

  “For a date that you don’t want to go on?”

  I blow out a breath and shake my head. “No, for a date I do want to go on. But it’s not an expensive dress, Quinn. Because I’m just a simple girl. It’s pretty, though.”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass how much your dress cost,” he says softly. “You’d be beautiful in a burlap sack.”

  “It takes a special kind of girl to pull off burlap,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. I glance up to find his lips twitching. “I’m sorry for being dumb.”

  Without looking at me, he drapes his arm around my shoulders and tugs me into his side.

  “You’re not dumb.”

  “I’m also not usually insecure.”

  “Good.” He presses his lips onto the top of my head and breathes in deeply. “Because it’s not sexy.”

  “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

  “Come on, let’s eat this food before it’s cold and get started on work. I don’t think you’re ready for the alternative scenario I have running through my head.”

  I swallow in surprise, and he chuckles next to me.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We aren’t there yet.”

  “Work it is, then.”

  Chapter Seven

  ~Sienna~

  “I hope you’re hungry,” Quinn says as we drive into Manhattan Friday evening. It’s early, giving us plenty of time to linger over dinner before we head to the show.

  “I think I’ve proven over the past week or so that I have a healthy appetite,” I reply with a laugh. The evening is off to a great start. He looks amazing in his dark gray suit and red tie, which just happens to match my red clutch and ruby earrings.

  “I like a girl who isn’t afraid to eat,” he replies. “And this restaurant is delicious.”

  “What kind of food is it?”

  “Italian.”

  “Excellent.” I rub my hands together in anticipation. I am hungry. And I’m so happy that I didn’t give in to my ridiculous insecurities and cheat myself out of tonight because I’m already having a great time.

  Quinn finds parking near Fifth Avenue, opens my door for me, and takes my hand as he leads me down the sidewalk.

  “We’re going to Armani,” he says.

  “Do you need to shop?”

  He grins. “No, they have an excellent restaurant.”

  “Really? I hadn’t heard. This will be fun.”

  Just then, my heel gets stuck in one of the sidewalk grates, and the next split second happens in slow motion.

  I feel the heel pop off my shoe, and I lose my balance, falling forward and scraping up my hand.

  “Shit, Sienna, are you okay?”

  Humiliated but I’m going to live.

  “I’m okay.” I work my broken heel out of the grate and feel my heart sink. “I guess this is what I get when I buy cheap shoes.”

  “No, this is what you get when your date doesn’t steer you away from the damn grate.”

  I smile up at Quinn as he helps me to my feet. People are bustling by, but I’m not paying attention to them.

  I’m too mortified.

  “I can fix this,” I say. “Is there a CVS Pharmacy nearby where I can get some superglue? Chewing gum? Hell, I could probably make a Band-Aid work.”

  “This isn’t DIY, Sienna,” Quinn replies with a frown. “We’ll get you some shoes.”

  I sigh, my cheeks hot and I’m sure I’m bright red. “There is plenty of shopping here, but do we have time?”

  “Lots of time,” he assures me. “And there’s Bergdorf’s right here.”

  “I’m more of a Macy’s kind of girl.”

  “There’s no time for that,” he replies, helping me hobble across the street with one good heel and one broken one. I’m walking like the hunchback of Notre Dame.

  “I’m going to slip into the restroom real quick,” I say when we’ve walked inside the store. “I need to wash my hands.”

  “Of course. I’ll wait for you here.”

  I nod, walk into the restroom, and lean on the vanity, taking a deep breath.

  “Jesus, wouldn’t it just figure that I’d manage to fall on my face in Manhattan with the sexiest man alive?”

  I shake my head as I wash my sore hands and check myself everywhere else to make sure I’m not bleeding or bruised, but it looks like it’s just my hands, shoe, and pride that are hurt.

  “I can splurge on a pair of shoes,” I assure my reflection. “I told Lou just the other day to buy herself the Chanel bag as a treat to herself, and I can do the same for the shoes. I’ll wear them for work as well, so it won’t be a wasted splurge.”

  Once I’m cleaned up and have talked myself into spending the money on some designer shoes, I join Quinn, who escorts me up the elevator to the shoe department.

  I’ve always loved shoes. And now that the idea is in my head, I’m kind of excited to pick out something extra beautiful.

  And, let’s get real, if I’m going to splurge, I’m going to splurge. So I head straight for the Louboutin section.

  “Good taste,” Quinn mutters with a smile as I begin to touch the toes of beautiful shoes, in all heel sizes.

  But then I see them. Black heels in patent leather with that signature red sole, and I know I’m a goner.

  “I’ll try these in a thirty-nine, please,” I say to the salesman, Roger, who hasn’t been far away.

  “Of course,” he says with a slight bow and hurries off to the stockroom.

  I slip out of the broken shoes, with the intention to ask Roger to toss them away. They’re ruined.

  “It smells good in here,” I say with a smile and Quinn grins.

  “Are you a shoe girl?”

  “Of course, I’m female.” I laugh and fiddle with my grandmother’s ruby necklace. “I’ve always wanted a pair of these, and this is an excellent excuse to get them.”

  Roger returns, and I slide my feet into the heels, delighted that they fit perfectly. I walk around the couches, to make sure they don’t slip off my heels, but they don’t.

  They feel like heaven.

  “I’ll take them,” I inform the happy Roger and reach for my clutch. When I pull out my credit card, Roger shakes his head.

  “No, miss, these have already been taken care of.”

  My gaze whips to Quinn, who just shrugs, his eyes wide and innocent.

  He’s so not innocent.

  “I don’t know,” he says and shakes his head. I’m not going to argue here, that would be rude. So I keep my new shoes on, ask Roger to toss the old ones, and soon we’re walking back toward Armani, only a few minutes late for our reservation.

  “You didn’t have to buy me shoes,” I say as I slip my hand in his.

  “I don’t do much in life that I don
’t want to do, Sienna.” He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “Your legs are fucking amazing in these heels. But if it truly bothers you, consider it payment for the painting.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Despite the shoe debacle, dinner was delicious and intimate, and we arrive at the show with plenty of time to see Quinn’s family before it starts.

  “Hello, dear, I’m Quinn’s mother, Maggie.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Cavanaugh.”

  “Please, call me Maggie,” she says with a friendly smile. “Everyone does. You’re simply lovely this evening.”

  “Oh, thank you very much.”

  Quinn introduces me to Carter, and his daughter, Gabby. Finn joins us, smiling widely.

  “London will join us just after she’s finished saying hello to everyone backstage,” he says. “She’s so damn excited.”

  “As she should be,” Maggie replies and pats her son on the shoulder. “We’re all very proud of her.”

  “I really like your shoes,” Gabby says to me with a smile. She’s a beautiful girl, with dark hair and blue eyes. She’s in a pretty red dress and black shoes.

  “Thank you.”

  “I asked Daddy for some for Christmas, but he said no.”

  “You’re too young for designer shoes,” Carter says and sighs. “Ask me again when you’re thirty.”

  “Daddy.” She rolls her eyes and then laughs. “He still likes to think I’m a baby.”

  “You’ll always be my baby,” Carter says as we all find our seats. We have a whole box to ourselves, with an excellent view of the stage.

  “Gabby, how would you like to go with me to Hawaii again this summer?” Maggie asks her granddaughter, who immediately grins and claps her hands.

  “Yessss!”

  “Maggie, you don’t have to—” Carter begins, but Maggie shakes her head.

  “She’s my only granddaughter, thanks to these bozos taking their sweet time, and I want to spend some time alone with her.”

  “Awesome,” Gabby says. “I want to snorkel again.”

  “Mom, do you think it’s a good idea to travel right now?” Quinn asks her, and she turns to him, pinning him in a glare.

  “Quinn, I’m a grown woman, who can travel whenever she pleases.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Quinn says, but I can tell that the subject isn’t over.

  “Hi, everyone.” London joins us, her face flushed with excitement. She’s beautiful in a white dress with diamonds sparkling at her ears and her neck.

  I can’t wait to hear how the proposal goes.

  “London, I’d like for you to meet Sienna,” Quinn says, and London immediately pulls me in for a hug.

  “Welcome,” she says with a smile. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

  “Same here. Congratulations on tonight, and all your recent success.”

  “Thank you,” she replies with a big smile. “It’s a big night.”

  “We’re just thrilled for you, London,” Carter says, and the lights blink on and off, signaling that it’s time for the show to start.

  Everyone sits, the whole auditorium a buzz of excitement for the show. It’s been critically acclaimed already.

  It’s heavy. Important. About addiction and love. Family. Hurts and healing.

  I find myself wiping tears from my cheeks, and Quinn passes me a handkerchief. A real one.

  I had no idea that men still carried these.

  But I accept it and dab carefully at my eyes, trying to salvage my makeup. He takes my hand in his and links our fingers together, holding on tightly.

  God, I love the way it feels when he touches me. He’s warm and strong. Solid.

  Safe.

  Is that weird? I’ve known the man for such a short time, and yet, I feel completely at ease with him.

  Quinn leans in, presses his lips to my ear, and whispers, “You’re so damn beautiful. I can’t wait to get you home.”

  And just like that, I forget about how little I know him, how we’re working a case together and that we’re sitting among all his family.

  I want him. I like him. And this is new territory for me, but I’ve decided that I won’t overthink it to death.

  I’m going to enjoy him.

  “It was stunning,” I assure London an hour later as I offer her a hug. “I loved it. You should be very proud.”

  “I’m so proud,” she says with a watery grin. “I’m so happy that you came. I’d love to get together for lunch sometime.”

  “I’d like that,” I reply with a nod. “I’ll have Quinn send you my number.”

  “Perfect. I’ll text you. Would you all like to come backstage?”

  “We will pass,” Quinn says before I can reply, and I’m relieved. I’m ready to be alone with him. “But thank you for the invitation. Sienna’s right, it was fabulous.”

  We say our good-byes to his family, and then leave, walking hand in hand to his car.

  “Your family is really nice.”

  He nods and smiles softly down at me. “They liked you.”

  “I liked them too. But you sound surprised. Are you surprised that they liked me?”

  “No.” He laughs and opens the car door for me, then walks around and joins me. “You’re a likable woman, of course they like you.”

  “They’re all very nice. London is beautiful. I hope the proposal goes well.”

  “Finn will be just fine,” Quinn says. “Sienna, I’d like to take you home.”

  I frown. “I thought that’s where we were headed.”

  “No, I mean to my home. I’d like to show you my condo.”

  “Oh, that sounds nice. I’d like to see where you live.” I knew it was going to lead to this. I knew. But I didn’t expect to be so nervous. Butterflies are doing the cha-cha in my belly, but I’m excited too. I can’t wait to see his place.

  “Excellent.”

  He drives through Manhattan, and it doesn’t take us long to reach his building. He parks underground, then escorts me to an elevator that takes us up to the penthouse level. The doors open, and we step out of the elevator, but I’m struck speechless.

  I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen a more beautiful space in my life. I expected Quinn’s space to be modern. Sleek. Simple.

  But it’s opulent and lovely. Full of color. Plush furniture and polished oak floors that my shoes click on as I walk through the space.

  Quinn is taking his jacket off and rolling his sleeves, the way he always does when it’s time to get comfortable. I set my clutch on a table and continue to wander, taking everything in.

  It’s an open floor plan, and the kitchen is ridiculously big, with everything even the most celebrated chef could need.

  But it’s the fireplace, and the framed painting mounted above it, that catches my eye.

  “My painting,” I murmur as I walk toward it, then cross my arms over my chest and stare up at it. He used reclaimed wood to frame it.

  “It’s my favorite piece,” he says behind me. His hands rest on my shoulders, and I feel his touch throughout my whole body. My nipples pucker. My core tightens.

  This man is potent.

  “It’s like it was made for this spot,” I reply as he holds a snifter full of amber whiskey in front of me. I take the glass and sip, feeling the burn of the liquor all the way to my belly. “Thank you.”

  “Sienna,” he begins and turns me to face him. “If you’re not interested in being intimate with me tonight, I need to take you home right now.”

  “I’m not going home,” I reply immediately. My voice is strong and sure, just as strong as my conviction to stay.

  I want him, and I won’t apologize for it.

  His eyes are pinned to mine as he swallows the rest of his drink and sets the glass aside. I take a final sip and pass my glass to him, and he sets it next to his.

  “Shall I show you the rest of my place?”

  So he’s not going to attack me right here in his living room
. Good. There’s no hurry.

  I bite my lip and nod, and he slips his hand in mine and leads me down a hallway.

  “How long have you lived here?” I ask.

  “Three years,” he replies. “I hated it when I bought it. Everything was white. I mean, everything. The walls, the floors, the furniture. Even the appliances.”

  “That’s a lot of white. They must not have had kids.”

  He laughs and opens a door, flips on a light, and I’m in his home office. It’s a good size, with big windows. Like the man who owns it, the furniture is big and imposing. A bit intimidating.

  Sexy.

  “So I bought it, and before I moved in I hired a decorator and told her what I wanted. She did well.”

  “I like it,” I agree with a nod. “Sounds like when I bought my place.”

  “I remember,” he says, his lips twitching. “We have a lot in common.”

  He leads me farther down the hall and points out a guest bath, a guest bedroom, and at the end of the hall, he opens double doors to reveal the master suite.

  “It’s softer in here,” I murmur, dropping his hand so I can run my fingers over the soft bedding. The colors are muted grays and white. It’s still masculine, but much more soothing than the rest of the house.

  “Wait until you see the bathroom,” he says with a satisfied grin. I walk through a massive walk-in closet that would give most women wet dreams and gasp at the threshold of the bathroom.

  “Jesus,” I whisper. The tub is big enough for a party of four, freestanding against a wall of windows that look out onto the city. “I hope these are privacy windows.”

  “Of course.” He’s leaning his shoulder on the doorjamb, watching me with a half smile on his lips. “I’m not an exhibitionist.”

  “Good to know.”

  There’s an empty vanity table with a pretty gray velvet chair. It would be a great place to get ready for work or a night out.

  The cabinetry and countertops are as opulent as the rest of the condo, and once again I’m reminded of just how different Quinn and I are.

  But the insecurity doesn’t fill me the way it did the other night. Instead, I feel proud of him. He was right, he does work hard, and he shouldn’t ever have to apologize for having nice things.