She turned to face him cautiously suspicious. “How did you find me?”
Quint struggled with the overzealous dog. “You forget, I make my living finding people.”
Jamie dropped her hand but stayed within arm’s length of the alarm. “Why did you find me? Or did my fee for sex tax your budget so you decided to fly all the way to Chicago to find work?”
“I can explain that.”
“While you’re at it, you can explain why I was only worth a hundred dollars. Seems to me it should have been five hundred.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was a stupid, insensitive thing to do.”
“No argument from me on that front. And you can add cruel, mean, heartless, thoughtless, and totally unnecessary.”
“I saw the decals in your trunk. I thought you were a hooker.”
The pit-bull gleam in Jamie’s amber eyes told Quint it was the wrong thing to say. She walked slowly to the edge of the deck where she could look down at him. Her mouth formed a thin line. “So…if I had been a hooker, your actions would have been justified?”
Quint squirmed. He didn’t like squirming, but he wasn’t ready to give up on her. It was confession time. “Please believe me, that money had nothing to do with who you are or who I thought you were. I was reacting to other things in my life.”
She didn’t say anything. She just glared at him with narrowed eyes as though trying to decide if he was last week’s garbage or green scum from the back of the refrigerator. Her lovely pouty mouth was set in a hard thin line. Even when angry she had the most sinfully kissable mouth he’d ever seen, and noticing the bandage on her forehead, he wanted to kiss that spot too.
He managed to calm Liebers down by rubbing her ears. The dog sagged against Quint’s leg, groaning with pleasure. He was about to ask if he could sit down and talk to her, explain about Cynthia, when he heard the sound of a car in the driveway in front of the house. He was just close enough to see the security sign on the car door before it opened, and a thick-muscled, armed guard stepped out.
With a hand poised over his weapon the brawny guard walked cautiously toward Quint. He stopped a few feet away and glanced up at Jamie.
“You okay?” he asked. “Charlotte called. She said you had an intruder.”
“I’m fine, Joe.”
“You know this man?” Joe asked.
Jamie folded her arms over her chest. “I thought I did, but I was mistaken. It doesn’t matter though, because he was just leaving.”
Quint wasn’t interested in wrestling with a man wearing a .44 Magnum on his hip; particularly when he seemed to be looking for an excuse to aim it at someone. Quint also had the feeling Joe had more than a business interest in Jamie.
“Yeah,” Quint murmured. “I was just leaving.” He pulled a card and a pen from his shirt pocket and jotted something down. Then he handed the leash to Joe. “Think you can manage to hang onto Charlotte’s dog for a moment?”
Quint walked to the deck, laid the card on the railing, then turned and walked away without a backward glance.
Leibers, attempting to follow Quint, nearly jerked the husky guard off his feet.
Jamie watched with mixed emotions as Quint disappeared around to the front of the house. She was still furious with him, but part of her wanted to call him back. When she heard his car leave the driveway, she picked up the card he’d left and shoved it in her pocket, stepped off the deck to rescue Liebers from Joe—or more accurately—rescue Joe from an over-anxious Liebers. She mumbled a curt thank you and left before he could start a conversation that was sure to end with him asking her for a date. The man’s interest in protecting her bordered on the obnoxious.
After taking Liebers back to his kennel, Jamie returned to her own house to call Charlotte and assure her that everything was fine.
She resisted the urge to pull Quint’s note from her pocket, but curiosity won out. It was a business card advertising Seek and Find Enterprise. On the back he had written the phone number to a nearby motel, and a note saying: “I’ll wait twenty-four hours. If you don’t call, I’ll leave you alone. You should have won yesterday.”
Jamie’s heart quickened. Twenty-four hours. She was certain he would leave if she made no move to stop him. If he left she may not have another opportunity to get her hands on that tape. Could she overlook his crude actions long enough to let him help her break into Clay’s house?
But first things first—her plants had gone five days without water and her hummingbird feeder was empty.
Three hours later Jamie’s doorbell rang. She answered it to find a delivery boy from Windy City Florist. He had a long box on his arm. She signed for the flowers, took them inside, and removed the wrapper. It contained five long-stemmed bright pink roses. She didn’t have to look at the card to know they came from Ray Bentler. He sent roses after every race, five roses for taking fifth place. Ironically, the better she placed the fewer flowers she got.
An hour later the same delivery boy handed her another parcel of flowers. It was a special order and someone had paid a bundle to have it delivered ASAP.
The card simply said: “I’m sorry. It was a mistake. Please let me explain.”
She opened the package to find five red roses. She knew immediately the significance—they’d made love five times that night. They weren’t long-stemmed but they were exceptionally beautiful. Jamie loved the fragrance of red roses. She pressed her face into them and inhaled the earthy fragrance.
* * * *
Quint paced the length of the up-scale motel room for the hundredth time. The patio door led to a crystal clear pool surrounded by a lush garden. A slight breeze carried the scent of honeysuckle through the open window, along with the playful sound of children splashing in the pool. A couple of times he’d stepped outside but never strayed far from the phone. Other than stopping to order the flowers, he’d come straight back to his room to wait. His laptop sat open on the desk where he’d managed to connect it to the Internet intending to do some work while he waited, but he never got further than pushing the power button on.
All he could think about was Jamie LeCorre. How he’d like to get to know her better as well as make love to her again. He knew every inch of her body, but he had no idea what went on in her mind. He understood now why she’d refused to talk about herself. If she would only give him another chance.
He glanced at his watch. It was five o’clock. He had hoped she’d call by this time so he could invite her to dinner. He’d ordered a ham sandwich and a bowl of soup from the restaurant for lunch, but he’d been too antsy to eat. Now he was hungry and that made him irritable. She was being unreasonable by not giving him a chance to explain his relationship with Cynthia.
Maybe if he got angry enough he could fly back to New York in the morning and forget about her. Maybe Jamie LeCorre, NASCAR driver, had the personality of an aardvark and was nothing like the sweet girl who wore a sexy-as-hell faded Mickey Mouse T-shirt to bed. Hell, maybe he was going to be a cowboy when he grew up and ride off into the sunset.
Shit! He’d had enough of waiting. He was going out to get something to eat. If she called now, she could damn well call back later. He had the doorknob in his hand when the phone rang.
He let it ring twice while he sucked in a couple of deep breaths.
“Hello. Quint speaking.”
“Quinton, darling, what on earth are you doing in Chicago?”
The sound of Cynthia Harman’s voice grated on his already taut nerves. He had no patience for her, and he was already suspicious that she was having him followed. That rankled him even further.
“I’m not interested in chit-chat, Cynthia. What do you want?”
“Why do you keep avoiding me, Quinton?”
Quint squeezed the phone with a strangling grip. “It’s over, Cynthia. Do us both a favor and let it go.” Without giving her a chance to reply, he slammed the phone into its cradle with an earsplitting smash.
He sank down on the edge of the bed,
pinching the bridge of his nose, reminding himself that murder was not a solution. He’d have to talk to Virgil about filing harassment charges. His empty stomach growled.
The phone rang again.
He considered not answering it, but that would be allowing her to control his actions. Cursed woman.
He yanked up the phone wondering if voodoo dolls worked. “Yeah!”
For a moment there was silence on the line.
“Quint? Is that you?”
It was the voice he’d been waiting all day to hear.
“Jamie. Thank God it’s you.”
“Are you okay? You sound a little peculiar.”
Quint managed a short laugh. “Good word. I’m in a peculiar mood, and I get a bit growly when I haven’t eaten all day. Let me buy you dinner.”
There was a short silence followed by a sigh. “Okay, just dinner, nothing else, and I choose the restaurant.”
“Deal. I’ll pick you up. How soon can you be ready?”
“I’ll pick you up. You’re at the Baylight Motel?”
“Room seventeen. You can drive right up to it.”
“I’ll be parked outside your room in thirty minutes. I guess you know my car.”
“Yeah, I know your car. What should I wear?”
“Casual, very casual.”
Quint hung up the phone, breathing a sweet sigh of relief. He didn’t care if they ate at the most expensive establishment in town or at the golden arches. She was giving him another chance. That’s all that mattered. He just had time for a quick shower.
Jamie slipped on a jean skirt long enough to cover her knees with a six-inch ruffle. Her short-sleeved periwinkle sweater was the same color she remembered Quint’s eyes to be. It had taken her most of the afternoon to convince herself to contact him. Even now, she wasn’t sure why she’d called, except that she did want to see him again.
Before she left, she threw a duffle bag into her back seat. It contained a black sweat suit, two flashlights, and a supply of surgical gloves.
As she pulled into the parking lot of the Baylight motel at exactly five-thirty, she gripped the steering wheel to keep her hands from shaking. Quint stood outside his room leaning against the doorframe, waiting for her. He wore tan khakis slacks and a rib-hugging rust print pullover. His rugged facial features softened into a slow smile when he spotted her. She wasn’t prepared for the effect that smile had on her, and she began to think that calling him was the biggest mistake of her life.
She stayed in the car while he walked around to the passenger side, opened the door, and glanced inside. His eyes took in her appearance with obvious appreciation. “You want me to drive?”
“No, I’d guess I know the city better than you do. Besides, it’s not far.”
Quint folded his lanky frame into the car and closed the door. “Thanks for coming,” he said.
She put the car in reverse and started backing out. “I was hungry,” she said.
Jamie saw his gaze settle on her duffle bag in the back seat.
“Don’t get any ideas,” she snapped. “It’s not an overnight bag.”
Quint cocked his head at her, frowning. “I’m getting the feeling you don’t trust me.”
Jamie didn’t answer.
Quint took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “Jamie, we made love five times that night. Did I force or mislead you in any way?”
“We didn’t make love, we had sex.”
“Whatever. Did I force you?”
Jamie put on her left blinker and turned south on Skokie Highway
. She breathed deeply, flexing her fingers to relax the strangling grip she had on the steering wheel. “No.”
“Did I mislead you?”
“No.”
“Did I hurt you in any way?”
She turned her attention from the road to look at him. A thick lump rose in her throat. She swallowed it down. “Yes—when you paid me.”
Silence hung between them. Jamie’s eyes swiveled back to the road, but she could feel Quint watching her. It took several moments before he spoke, and when he did he murmured as much to himself as to her. “I imagine that’s what changed it from making love to sex.”
Jamie shot him an arrow-piercing glare. “You get a gold star for that astute observation.” She merged onto the Edens Expressway, exited again after only a short distance and turned toward the lake past the Skokie lagoon.
“You’re not going to let me off easy on this, are you?” he asked finally.
He sounded so pathetically contrite; the hint of a smile tickled her lips. Still, she answered with a flat, “No.”
He studied her for another long moment with his fingers tapping slowly on his knee. “Am I wrong, or are you enjoying this?”
She maneuvered her BMW into the crowded parking lot of Jimbo’s Crab Shack. “I hope you like seafood and country western music.”
Quint gave her a slanted smile. “I love seafood of any kind. And my mom was born and raised in Tennessee, just outside of Nashville. I don’t remember a whole lot about her but I distinctly recall her singing along with Patsy Cline on the radio. I guess it was enough to influence me.” He looked around at all the cars as they got out of the BMW. “Do we need a reservation here?”
“Probably not.”
They walked side by side to the front door. Quint reached out and opened it for her putting his hand on the small of her back to guide her through. When he touched her, even through a layer of clothes, an electric jolt spiraled up her spine. It did disturbing things to her heart rate and she shivered in spite of the heat.
A young man of about twenty-five wearing a red and white striped shirt rushed past the people waiting in line. He had a stack of menus under one arm. “Jamie, love. I was afraid you wouldn’t come. Jimbo was at Darlington yesterday. He said you had a head wound.” He glanced at the inch-square, flesh-colored bandage barely showing under her curly bangs. “How bad are you hurt?” His eyes shifted to the hem of her skirt. “And the leg? How is the leg?”
Jamie greeted him with a smile. “Thanks for asking, Andy. My leg is as good as new, and I just got a slight scratch on my forehead. Nothing to be concerned about.”
Andy frowned, giving Quint a head-to-foot appraisal. “Jamie, love, everything about you concerns me.”
Jamie shook her head laughing. ”Andy, this is Quint Douglas. No need to be concerned about him. He’s just a business associate.”
Andy’s face lit up. “Very good. Follow me. I have a table for you by the window.”
Jamie followed him toward the back of the room to one of several alcoves containing private booths. She didn’t have to look back to know Quint was behind her, and she didn’t have to see his face to sense his irritation.
Andy seated them, explained the specials, and left with a promise to return as soon as they were ready to order.
One glance at Quint told Jamie he was more than just a little irritated.
“Business associate? What the hell was that about?”
Jamie shrugged. “Well, after all, you did pay me.”
Quint leaned toward her keeping his heated voice low. “Dammit, you’re not going let that go, are you?”
“Certainly not. I’m having too much fun.”
Quint took a deep breath, and then another. His jaw tightened. “Woman, I haven’t done this much groveling in my life. It’s just that… I know there is something between us, and I don’t just mean sexual. I feel it, and I think you do, too. Before I start I want you to know how much I appreciate you giving me another chance, but I can’t grovel any more. I’m going to make an attempt to explain about that money, and from there the ball will be in your court. You can accept my explanation or you can tell me to take a flying leap off a tall building. I know what it’s like to be dogged by a possessive-compulsive ex-lover. I promise I won’t do that to you. Now—”
Jamie held up her hand. “Wait, please, let’s order first. I think you need to eat because if you get any growlier I’m going
to stop having fun.”
Quint gritted his teeth. “I’m not growly!”
Jamie looked up at him with raised brows. “Really?”
Quint stared at her for a long moment then he closed the menu in front of him and set it aside. “I’ll have the crab leg all-you-can-eat special.”
“That’s just what I wanted. Are you having soup or salad with that?”
“Salad!”
“What kind of dressing?”
“Ranch!”
“French fries or tator bunnies.”
“Tator bunnies!”
“You don’t even know what they are.”
“I don’t care. I want them.”
Jamie smiled and waved at Andy, who dashed straight to their table with pad in hand.
“Shall I order for us?” Jamie asked Quint.
“Please do.”
She turned back to Andy. “We’d both like the house crab special and you know how I like my salad and potatoes. Quint would like the salad with ranch dressing.”
Andy wrote quickly, and looked at Quint. “And what kind of potatoes would you like sir?”
“Tator bunnies,” Quint said.
Andy stared at him. “Excuse me.”
“Tator bunnies,” Quint repeated.
Jamie winked at Andy. “It’s a New York thing. Just bring him the hush puppies.”
When Andy left Quint fastened a narrow glare on her. “I’m having a difficult time remembering exactly what it was I liked about you.”
“I think,” Jamie said, “it was because you thought I was a hook—”
“Don’t even go there,” Quint snapped. “Because if you believe that, we’re not even in the same solar system, much less the same planet. I’ve never paid for sex in my life or even thought about it, for that matter. And that includes you. I wasn’t paying for sex. I left the money because I wanted to piss you off.”
Jamie stared at him in wide-eyed surprise. “Well you certainly accomplished that, but for God’s sake, why? Did you think I was going to be so hot after you I wouldn’t leave you alone?”
Secret Sacrifices Page 8