The car jerked, hitting the soft shoulder for a brief moment that raised up clanging pebbles. “What?” Molly gasped.
“He stopped by the other day while you were at the store to tell me he was reopening the case.”
“What do you mean? He thinks someone came into your house and killed your dad?”
“No, he thinks someone purposefully bashed his skull in ten years ago. He didn’t tell you?”
“Oh, Jesus,” Molly breathed. The truck slowed considerably. “No, he didn’t tell me. You know what a stickler he is about confidentiality. But…why would he think your dad was killed?”
“There’s some evidence, but nothing concrete. I honestly don’t want to talk about it tonight, but I wanted to tell you. Just in case I have three martinis and start blubbering.”
“Oh, but, Lori, you’re—”
“No, seriously. No talking about it. I need a night out in the worst way. So let’s have fun. Show me a good time.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Molly watched her for a long moment, then turned determined eyes back to the road. “All right then. I have my mission.”
THE MAÎTRE D’ SMILED over his shoulder for the second time since he’d started leading them toward a table. Lori felt Molly’s elbow dig into her side and nudged her back, but she couldn’t help a little thrill of excitement. The man was flirting with her. Lori Love. And she was flirting back.
She smoothed a hand nervously over the flared skirt of the midnight-blue sundress. Without Molly’s encouragement, she’d never have even tried on the strapless silk dress, much less paired it with a pair of deep red shoes. But now she felt daring and feminine and sexy. And giddy as hell.
“Ladies,” the host said with a charming purr, sweeping his hand toward a table that overlooked the street outside.
“Thank you,” Lori said, trying not to giggle like a teenager when he winked at her.
“Paul will be your server tonight, but I’m Marcus. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”
“We will, thanks.”
By the time she’d settled into the chair he held out, arranging her skirts carefully so they wouldn’t get wrinkled, Lori could feel that Molly was about to burst. She looked up to find her grinning over her clasped hands.
“You look so pretty. And you’re glowing, Lori!”
“Maybe I put on too much blush.”
“Maybe you’re in heat!” Her eyes dropped lower. “My God I’m a genius. That dress is perfect for your body.”
“Thank you for helping me. I even look like I have boobs.”
“How crazy is that?”
Lori kicked her with one brand-new shoe.
“All right, I’ll be serious. You look gorgeous, so keep an eye out. There isn’t a man here who’d be able to resist you.”
“That’s being serious? I’m ridiculously short, I’ve got a face like a grumpy pixie, and there’s black grease under my nails.”
“You look like a hot pixie tonight, darling. And everybody knows that pixies are little whores.”
“Hey, I think I read that book!” They were both snorting quite unsexily when the waiter came to take their drink order.
When he hurried away, Molly went suddenly wide-eyed. “Oh, my God. Look!”
Lori swung around, and immediately spotted the person who’d caused Molly’s shock. He was handsome, tall, and he had exquisite hands, though she couldn’t see them from this far away. Quinn was standing next to a table on the other side of the restaurant, a napkin clutched in his fist, and his eyes locked on…Lori.
Her heart flipped as she spun back to stare down at her silverware. When she’d first looked at herself in the mirror at the store, she’d had a brief, mad wish that she’d run into Quinn tonight. And here he was. Maybe she was a pixie.
When she noticed Molly smiling up as if her brother were getting closer, her heart fluttered.
Where the hell were those drinks? Flirting with a stranger was one thing, but now she had the acute sense that she looked foolish. A fraud. A sow’s ear trying very hard to become a silk purse, or whatever that damn expression was. She pulled nervously at a curl and wondered if she’d already licked all her lipstick off.
“Hey, Quinn!” Molly said, and Lori nearly knocked her bottle of mineral water over.
When he didn’t reply, she couldn’t stand the suspense and had to look up…straight into his hazel eyes. “Lori?” he breathed. Heat climbed up her chest, burning all the way up to her hairline.
“Hey,” she managed to croak. It didn’t help that he looked unbelievably elegant. His dark gray suit was set off perfectly by a white shirt and silver-green tie. He’d seemed like plain old Quinn this morning, but she was abruptly reminded that his life was a world away from hers.
“Hellooo?” Molly interrupted. “I’m Molly, your loving sister.”
“Hey, Moll.” His eyes didn’t leave Lori’s. “What did you do to Lori?”
“Got her horny with my award-winning writing.”
“Gah,” Lori choked, and broke free of Quinn’s eyes to shoot an outraged glare at Molly. Her friend grinned in response, but her mouth got more serious when she looked up to Quinn, then down to Lori and back up again.
“Why?” she drawled. “What did you do to Lori?”
He opened his mouth but didn’t say a word, then seemed to shake off whatever shock he’d been laboring under. “You look beautiful, Lori. Really amazing. I’m afraid my new client thinks I’ve got epilepsy now. I choked on a piece of jicama when you walked in.”
“Oh! Thank you.”
“That color is amazing. Like blue steel.”
“I…just…”
Molly tapped his arm. “Quinn, that blonde is waving at you. I think she’s pissed.”
“Shit,” he muttered. “I’d better go. It’s probably not professional to get caught drooling on my mechanic. I’ll see you soon, all right?”
“Oh. Yeah. Okay.”
Despite his words, he stood staring at her for so long that she got dizzy from holding her breath. Then he grinned and walked back to the fancy world where he belonged.
Lori couldn’t help but watch him the whole way, and goose bumps rose on her skin when he turned halfway to his table and winked at her.
“Lori,” Molly said in a very steady voice. Suspiciously steady.
Bracing herself, she turned back to face the scrutiny. “Hmm?”
“Lori, are you interested in being spanked by my brother?”
Hot and cold rushed over her at the same time; she leaned forward, almost landing her chin in the pomegranate martini she hadn’t even seen arrive. “You are the worst friend in the world!” she whispered. “I can’t believe you’d ask me that!”
Molly seemed unfazed. She lifted her glass and took a sip, eyes unwavering in their focus. “You were just asking me about dirty things, Lori Love. Remember? And then Quinn walks over here and stares at you like you’re a raspberry truffle dipped in honey cream.”
“He…A what?”
“I’m sorry. That was too much, huh? Too erotica-y? Too much creamy goodness?”
Lori wrapped her fingers around the stem of her martini glass. “God, you are strange.”
“Don’t change the subject. Do you want to do dirty things with my brother or not?”
“No!” Her brain seemed to vibrate at the word, like an internal lie-detector test. “Of course not. I just fixed his backhoe. That’s it.”
“Got his engine running?”
“Stop it.”
“Hey!” Molly protested. “I could’ve said something about being a hoe, but I didn’t.”
Frustration built up inside her, but when it boiled over, it just disappeared, steam spreading out into the air. The curses she wanted to yell morphed into laughter, and she collapsed against the linen tablecloth. “Can’t you ever be serious?” she gasped.
“I’m working on it, I swear. But I have to save it all up f
or Ben so he won’t lose his mind. You only have to tolerate me for short periods. Suck it up. Anyway, I’m supposed to be showing you a good time, remember?”
What could she do but nod? Molly was her best friend, and her life had been one long gray haze before Molly had returned to Tumble Creek last year. It had been so much less gray since. “Okay, I suppose I can tolerate you. By the way…Did Quinn say he was drooling?”
A smile started small on Molly’s lips, but it gradually spread into a wide grin. Her eyes sparkled like happy jewels. “That,” she answered, “is exactly what he said.”
Lori polished off her drink and then stared down into the empty glass. She tried even breathing, but it didn’t seem to work. “I-think-I-want-to-do-dirty-things-with-Quinn,” she forced out, and then raised her heavy gaze to Molly’s. “But I can’t.”
The sparkle left her friend’s eyes and she finally got serious. “Why? I admit, we won’t be able to gossip about the details, but I don’t have any objection otherwise.”
“He’s your brother.”
Molly placed both her hands flat on the table and leaned slowly forward. “I only have circumstantial evidence,” she whispered, “but I’m almost certain he’s not a virgin.”
“That’s not the point. The point is I’m not looking for a relationship, I just want to use someone for sex.”
A throat cleared from somewhere just over her shoulder. When she turned to see the waiter standing there, she wasn’t even embarrassed, just incredibly relieved it wasn’t Quinn.
“Shall I give you another moment?” He was turning away before Lori finished explaining that they hadn’t looked at the menus yet.
“He’s very tense,” Molly said.
“Well, then he shouldn’t walk up on people so quietly.”
“No, I meant Quinn. Quinn’s very tense. I think he could handle being used. Might be good for him. He has trouble sleeping.”
“I’m not going to use your brother! And I don’t think he’s volunteering.”
“Oh, he’s volunteering,” Molly scoffed. “I think he’s ready to have his tires rotated, if you know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t know what you mean. Is that supposed to be sexy?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay, I can see we’re moving away from serious here.” Lori sighed. “So let me put this simply. I’m looking for a little fun. No attachment. And definitely not someone I’ll see all the time afterward. Quinn is not an option.”
Molly rolled her eyes. “How many times have you seen Quinn in the past decade? Five or six times?”
“Are you determined to pimp your brother out?”
She slumped and waved a dismissive hand. “Fine. Never mind. Whatever you do, don’t sleep with Quinn. Anyway, you’ve got another option. Our waiter is talking to the maître d’—I think he’s passing on your secret message.”
Lori twisted around to find both men smiling in her direction. Great. She suddenly felt less like a powerful sexual creature and more like prey. She’d exposed her soft underbelly, now one of them would move in for the kill.
Finally picking up her menu, Lori just shook her head. “I think heels and a dress are enough for this weekend. I’ll cross the sex bridge next week.”
“Oo, the sex bridge,” Molly murmured, looking over her own menu. “All right, we’ll see how that works out. By the way, Ben said to tell you he might stop by the shop on Monday.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought it was something to do with his truck, but now that I know about your dad, I’m not sure. Just make sure you’re not standing on the sex bridge when he gets there. He might accidentally get on it, and wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”
Picturing Ben catching her in a compromising position, Lori burst into laughter. He’d had enough embarrassment via Molly over the past year, and she didn’t want to put him through any more, but the thought still struck her as hilarious.
Enough with worrying about men. Tonight she was going to have fun. Let the boys watch from afar. And maybe…maybe even drool a little.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE SUN BEAT DOWN, hotter than it had been all summer, burning Quinn’s back. If he were working at his site, he would’ve already ditched the shirt, but he wasn’t working. Instead, he was in Tumble Creek, watching Lori.
He hadn’t expected to find her in the garage on a Sunday, but there she was, balanced on the bumper of a half-ton pickup, her small body swallowed by the depths of the engine well. A long, muttered curse bounced off the hood of the truck, something so blatantly obscene that it turned him on. Who’d have thought such a pretty little thing could have such a dirty mouth? Even more shocking, who would’ve thought those coveralls could so thoroughly hide those curves? Not that she was buxom, but last night his eye had recognized the beauty of each perfect proportion. Though not until after he’d recovered from the shock of glancing up and spying some sort of ultrafeminine doppelgänger of Lori Love.
Speaking of spying…Maybe it was creepy of him to stand outside unannounced.
So he said, “Hey, Lori,” and then watched her head rise into a quick and nasty crash with the truck’s hood. “Damn,” he rasped, rushing forward to help. The cursing started again, which would have made him smile if he weren’t worried about her skull.
“Are you okay?”
As she clutched the top of her head, Quinn eased his hands around her waist and lowered her to the ground. “Are you bleeding?”
She slapped his hands away and cursed some more. “You scared the hell out of me!”
“Sorry. You want some ice? Let’s get some ice.”
“I don’t…” Her shoulders slumped. “Okay, fine.” She led the way through the garage and into the house, fingers gingerly exploring her scalp the whole way. “I think it’s all right actually.”
But Quinn didn’t pay any attention; he was busy inhaling the scent of home-cooked food. “My God, that smells good. I was going to ask if you wanted to go grab dinner, but you’ve already got plans, I guess.”
He glanced over to find her staring at him, hand still pressed to her head. “Dinner?”
“Yeah. You’ve already got something in the oven?”
“Yes.”
When she didn’t offer anything more, Quinn felt his stomach sink. “So you’re busy?”
She looked from him to the oven, her green eyes wide with…anxiety? Strange. “No, I’m not busy.”
Well, she wasn’t exactly enthusiastic, but he didn’t plan on giving up that easily. He’d been thinking about Lori Love since yesterday afternoon in his cabin. He’d been thinking seriously about her since last night.
“It smells delicious, did I mention that?”
She finally lost her shocked expression and smiled, rolling her eyes at his obviousness. He’d never claimed to be slick with women.
“Fine, Quinn Jennings. Since I’ve already cooked dinner, would you like to stay and help me eat it?”
“That’s a fantastic idea! I’d love to. Now let’s get some ice.”
“My head feels fine. I’ve got a thick skull. And lots of hair.” She glanced at the clock as she balanced a boot on a kitchen chair to loosen the laces. “It’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes. Just give me a second to change. There’s beer in the fridge.”
His shoulders had already begun to turn toward the ancient beige fridge when his eye caught the motion of her hand rising toward her zipper. He changed direction, turning back toward Lori as she moved the zipper down. The coveralls gaped, and Quinn watched, entranced, as a white tank top was exposed.
At that point, he half expected her to step out of her uniform wearing nothing but a thin white tank and a pair of panties. But Lori tugged the coveralls down with no ceremony, revealing a faded pair of jeans. And the tank top wasn’t that thin, either. Damn.
Seemingly unaware of his train of thought, Lori toed off her boots, pulled off the coveralls, and tossed them over the chair before heading for the bed
room.
Her walk seemed captured on a slow-motion camera; Quinn imagined her hips swaying in nothing but a pair of skimpy blue panties and reached blindly for the handle of the fridge door. He needed a drink. He might not be better with women with a beer or two under his belt, but he forgot how bad he was, at any rate.
After popping a bottle open for Lori, he downed half of his in a few quick swallows. What the hell was he doing here, anyway? Looking to ruin a perfectly good friendship? His track record with relationships so far was zero and…Hell, he didn’t even know the number, which proved the point. But every time he put down his work lately, he started thinking about her and that smile.
Lori Love was an enigma. Though she and Molly had been friends in school, they hadn’t been best friends. Molly had been popular and slightly flighty, while Lori had embodied the stereotype of the scholarly girl. Nose always in a book, extracurricular activities planned with an eye toward college applications, or so Molly had claimed. Lori had studied hard and spent her free time working in Love’s Garage. Quinn had no idea what had happened to her after that, except that she’d gone to Boston College on a full scholarship, then come home when her dad was injured.
And now she seemed like a typical female mechanic, if there was such a thing.
Wandering into the living room, Quinn let his architect’s eye take in the lines of the fifties construction. Nothing had been changed since the original build as far as he could tell. He wasn’t even sure the walls had been painted since then. Certainly the decor hadn’t been updated. Nothing here, absolutely nothing, gave him any clue as to who Lori had become.
Ancient bowling trophies crowded the mantel above the moss rock fireplace. A lamp made from a bowling pin sat on an unremarkable oak table. The couch was frat-house chic.
This was her father’s house, plain and simple. But her father had died over a year ago. Was it grief that kept her from making the place her own? Quinn raised the dusty blinds on one of the small windows and found a view of the garage yard. The sad sight burned through his stomach. He could see why she kept the windows closed.
Start Me Up Page 4