A Stranger's Touch

by Tori Carrington

  “Thank you for your help. I think I can take it from here.” Dulcy held the towel to her breasts, then opened the door to find Quinn standing there, his hand raised in a knock.

  He dropped his hand. “Everything all right?”

  Dulcy considered her options. Either make a further fool of herself by forcing Esmerelda from the room with Quinn looking on, or bear the woman’s open curiosity.

  She slammed the door.

  There was something decidedly weird about doing something so intimate in front of a stranger. But Dulcy also found the experience oddly liberating. She’d never considered herself a prude. Okay, maybe she had. In high school, she’d always found some way to get out of showering with her classmates. In college, her roommate seemed comfortable with nudity, but Dulcy had always been sure to cover herself decently.

  After making quick work of drying herself, she reached for the clothes she’d stripped out of, only to find them gone. Esmerelda held out a short silk robe.

  Dulcy shook her head. The robe was much too short. “My clothes. Where are they?”

  “In the garbage.”

  Dulcy quirked a brow. “All of them?”

  “The bag I put in the wash.”

  Sighing, she dropped the towel and held herself as proudly as she could, as Esmerelda helped her into the scrap of material. She got that feeling of being perused again, until she finally cinched the belt at her waist. She turned to face the old woman, her chin held high. Esmerelda smoothed a hand over Dulcy’s abdomen.

  “Good breeding stock.”

  Dulcy nearly choked. Before she could respond, Esmerelda opened the door and left.

  Peeking into the hall, Dulcy looked around. No Quinn. No nosy old woman. Biting her lip, she ducked into the first bedroom she came to. Decidedly masculine—it had to be Quinn’s. A quick inventory of his drawers left her with a pair of black sweatpants she had to roll up and a T-shirt that covered her far better than the skimpy robe.

  She flopped down on the mattress. For God’s sake. If this is what the women Quinn brought home went through, no wonder he was still single.

  Who was Esmerelda and what was her relationship to Quinn? Dulcy felt violated beyond description. Yet a small part of her was proud that she had made the grade, whatever grade that was.

  QUINN EYED ESMERELDA where she skillfully put together a light lunch of taco salad at the terra-cotta tiled counter. She was humming an old Native tune usually sung at fertility ceremonies. He grimaced and glanced at his watch. Dulcy had yet to make an appearance, and at least fifteen minutes had passed since his housekeeper had come into the kitchen.

  “Okay, Ezzie, what did you do to her?”

  The humming stopped but the old woman didn’t say anything.

  Quinn stepped beside her and tossed a couple of pieces of diced tomatoes that had dropped to the counter into the bowl. He didn’t miss the wide grin on her face. An answering grin tugged on his own mouth.

  The last woman Quinn had brought home had inspired a bone-deep frown from Ezzie, so her reaction to Dulcy was a surprise—and a welcome one, albeit an inappropriate one.

  “She’s engaged to Brad, Ezzie.”

  The old woman shrugged.

  Quinn rubbed the back of his neck, then turned to lean his hips against the counter next to her. “Maybe that doesn’t mean much to you, but it means everything to me. Brad’s…well, he’s my best friend.” He gripped the counter edge tightly. “I can’t tell you how guilty I feel. Brad’s missing—and what do I do? I bang his fiancée.”

  Ezzie raised an eyebrow. Quinn didn’t kid himself into thinking she didn’t know the saying. She’d spent her entire life around ranch hands, and their “language” was one she had long since mastered—and been known to use.

  She wiped her hands on a towel, then poked a bony finger into his chest. “In life, Brad may be the one Sunflower is promised to, but it is not who her soul calls out for.”

  Quinn grimaced. The last thing he needed was some hokey Indian soul-seeking. Lord knows, he’d had a lifetime of it from his grandmother before she passed on and then his mother.

  “And who does your soul call out for, Ez?” he asked.

  The light instantly vanished from her dark eyes.

  Quinn felt a stab of remorse for having turned the tables on her, but he’d had to do something to knock her from her current path. Dulcy was not his for the taking, no matter whom her soul called out for.

  He glanced up to find Dulcy standing in the doorway. He slowly crossed his arms over his chest and watched her look over the room, her gaze skittering past his. If he’d needed any proof that Dulcy wasn’t his, this was it. Rather than wearing the robe he’d seen Esmerelda take into the bathroom with her, she’d donned a pair of his black sweatpants and a matching T-shirt. Even in the too-big clothing, she looked elegant and out of reach.

  Ezzie hadn’t turned around, but she must have sensed Dulcy’s presence. Her voice dropped as she leaned toward Quinn. “Listen with your heart, not with your ears.”

  He pushed from the counter lest Ez think he was in need of further counsel. He motioned toward the rough-hewn table and chairs on the other side of the cooking island. “Have a seat.”

  Dulcy drew her shoulders straight. “Where are my clothes?”

  Quinn stared at Ezzie, who had gone back to humming the Native tune. “I’m sure they’ll be done soon. Until then, why don’t we enjoy the meal Esmerelda is preparing for us?”

  Dulcy finally moved to the table. Quinn caught the way she caressed the back of the chair before pulling it out and sitting down. He seated himself across from her.

  Esmerelda appeared immediately, rearranging the place settings she’d put out side by side, then distributing the serving bowls between them.

  Then, suddenly, she was gone, and Quinn felt ill at ease.

  There had been only one other time a woman had been in his home. And given the way that had turned out, he wasn’t sure how he felt about Dulcy’s presence, especially under the circumstances.

  Still, he couldn’t help a secret smile at Ezzie’s reaction to Dulcy. The old woman had been so opposed to his last girlfriend, Yolanda Sanchez, he had wondered whether Ez would ever approve of any woman for him. Ironically, Yolanda had been part Pueblo on her mother’s side, although mostly of Hispanic heritage, while Dulcy’s veins very obviously didn’t contain a drop of Native blood.

  He eyed Dulcy, wondering why Esmerelda thought her compatible to him. For all intents and purposes, they were as different as night and day—in looks and background and interests.

  “Do you think he was lying?”

  Quinn slowed his chewing, considering Dulcy’s quiet words. There was no doubt she was talking about Tucci, the would-be flower deliveryman who claimed Brad owed him money. He put down his fork and took a long sip of cold herbal tea. “I don’t know. Do you think he was?”

  She seemed to go out of her way not to look at him. “I don’t know what to think anymore. First there was the strip joint. Then I find out about the things that take place at the club. Now there’s…this.” She wasn’t eating much, merely pushing the food around her plate. “You think you know someone…”

  Quinn narrowed his gaze on her, trying to decipher what she was trying to say. Which could have been no more than what she was actually saying.

  Damn Ezzie and her cryptic words.

  “Dulcy…do you still plan to marry him?”

  There it was—the question he’d been avoiding asking for the past few days. The words he’d wanted to say when they first met and he’d surmised that she was engaged.

  Her cheeks colored and she nervously tucked her hair behind her ear.

  “Forget it,” he said roughly, hating himself for asking the question and her for not answering quickly. “It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

  She blinked at him. “It doesn’t?”

  Quinn forced himself to focus on his food, shoveling it in though he couldn’t taste a single bite. “No. It doesn’t.�
� His fork clattered to his plate. “Facts are facts. And the facts are that even if you decided not to marry Brad, you and I…well, there could never be a you and I.”

  “Why?” she whispered.

  Quinn caught and held her gaze. In her eyes he read uncertainty, guilt and another fathomless emotion.

  “Because Brad’s my best friend. Closer than that. He’s my brother.” He pushed from the table. “And brothers don’t go around stealing each other’s women.”

  He started for the door, surprised when she was on his heels and pulling him to face her.

  “This isn’t exactly a picnic for me, either, you know.”

  He glanced down at where her hand rested against his forearm, left bare by his white T-shirt. She removed it, but it seemed to take her a moment to figure out what to do with it. She finally dropped her hand to her side.

  “You don’t understand,” Quinn growled, not sure whom he was angry with, although pretty sure it was himself. “Brad saved my life.”

  Dulcy’s eyes widened as she stared at him.

  He sighed and restlessly ran his hands through his hair, then refastened the strap at the back. “I was nine. It was back when my father’s family occasionally felt they had to make up for my father’s absence. Either that, or the novelty of my being Hopi made them…” He cursed. “One of my white cousins invited me to stay for a week at her house in Albuquerque that summer. While I was there, she attended a birthday party of one of her friends. A pool party.” He stared at the opposite wall but didn’t see it. Instead he pictured an upscale house with an upscale in-ground pool in the backyard and dozens of laughing kids. Already, he was taller than them, and thin. And his cousin Heather’s habit of introducing him by blood first, then name, was growing old quick.

  “The boys had jumped into the water first. All the boys but me.” He hated that his throat tightened just thinking about it, despite how many years had passed. “The girls started teasing me. Why didn’t I get in the water? And the boys started calling me a fag, even though I didn’t know what that meant then and I don’t think they did, either.” He met Dulcy’s gaze head-on. “So I jumped in the water. The deep end. And I couldn’t swim.”

  A shadow of horror passed over her eyes. “Oh, Quinn, no.”

  “I sank like a rock straight to the bottom. I knew that was it. The end. Because of stupid pride, I was going to die.” He cursed again and paced a short way away, his back to Dulcy. “It was Brad who realized what was going on and dove in to drag my ass out.”

  He paused, remembering how much the smaller boy had had to tug at him and kick at the water to pull him up to the surface. “Everyone was deathly silent. But I wasn’t humiliated. Instead I was grateful. Then Brad cracked a joke and erased all the uneasiness.” He smiled. “He enrolled me in swimming courses at his family’s country club the next day. We’ve been friends ever since. And he’s never introduced me as his ‘Indian’ friend. To anyone, ever. To him I was just a friend. His best friend.”

  Silence reigned in the room as Quinn closed his eyes and pulled his thoughts together, trying to douse the guilt twisting in his gut like razor wire. He owed Brad. Not because he’d once saved his life, but because he was the one man, the one friend, who had never judged, belittled or competed with him.

  He opened his eyes.

  “Despite what you might think, I did not go out last Friday looking to get laid by the first handsome stranger I crossed paths with.”

  Dulcy’s words only served to make him feel worse. Quinn turned to face her, the anguished expression on her face killing him all over again.

  “And once I…did discover who you were, I didn’t think to myself, ‘Hey, this just gets better and better. Who better to fool around with while my fiancé is gone than his best man? After all, if you can’t have the groom, the best man isn’t called that for nothing, is he?”’

  Quinn grabbed her wrist so quickly he surprised himself. “Stop it,” he ordered.

  Her hazel eyes glittered with gathering tears. “No, you stop it.” She thrust her face within millimeters of his. “Isn’t it bad enough that I’m beating myself up over all of this? Do you have to add your two jabs, as well?”

  Quinn found his gaze drawn to her mouth. Her moist, succulent mouth still open from having spoken.

  “Don’t,” she whispered.

  But when that pink tongue of hers peeked out and dragged across her bottom lip, Quinn knew he was a goner. He lowered his mouth to hers and gently, slowly drank from it. He tasted tears. Tears she must have shed during the time it took her to get from the bathroom to the kitchen. Tears that told both of them just how important Brad’s disappearance was. Tears that he had had a hand in creating.

  Quinn thrust both of his hands into her freshly washed hair, holding her still as he slid his mouth first one way, then the next. She moaned quietly but stood completely motionless, allowing him control over the direction of the kiss. He reveled in the texture of her tongue against his. Drank in the sweet taste of her mouth and her desire for him.

  Dear God, what was he doing? With every lick, every nibble, he felt himself falling for her more and more. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it from happening. He looked into her eyes and found her watching him. Her half-closed eyelids gave her a sleepy, sensual look he was hard-pressed to look away from.

  She stepped closer, bringing her hips against his, her softness against his hardness. He groaned, then ripped his mouth from hers so violently he was afraid he hurt her.

  “This is crazy,” he said, stepping back from her.

  Dulcy’s lips were trembling.

  “I’ve got to get out of here.” He started for the door, then stopped, dragging in deep breaths. Fingers twisted around the door handle, he spoke to the inanimate wood instead of to Dulcy. If he looked at her, he wouldn’t be able to leave. “My office is the last door to the left. Feel free to use it. And if you need anything, Ezzie’s around.”

  He yanked the door open and headed for the ranch beyond. Despite his best intentions, he did glance back once, to see Dulcy still standing in the same spot, looking well kissed and like she wanted more. The problem was, he wanted to give it to her.

  12

  DULCY SAT BACK at the mammoth desk Quinn directed her to. She stared at the notes she’d made. Three hours had passed since Quinn had kissed her senseless, shared his heartbreaking connection to Brad, then left her standing alone in the kitchen with no explanation of where he was going or when he might be back. She glanced at her watch, then pushed her hair back from her face, only then realizing that she hadn’t fastened the curly strands in her usual twist at the nape of her neck. She felt reckless, wild, leaving it loose like that.

  Aesthetically speaking, Quinn’s office was as simple in design as the rest of the house. Technologically speaking, it was better appointed than Dulcy’s office. Top-of-the-line computer, laptop, Palm Pilot, fax, scanner, printer and color copier were just a few of the items she’d admired when she first ventured inside the room. That the computer had a direct satellite feed made responding to e-mail a flash, and a general check of the LexisNexis research site only took up a few minutes of her time rather than the hour she generally allotted for periodic updates.

  Getting up from the chair, she paced to the window overlooking the mesa and low-lying stables out back. Earlier she’d watched, transfixed, as Quinn had worked a bay Appaloosa up into a lather. He’d stripped off his shirt and skillfully guided the animal, his muscles rippling and moving with the same grace as the horse he trained. She’d been mesmerized by the sight of man and beast, the two complementing the other, working in harmony. Each one silently challenging the other. The stallion might not have had a clue who was going to win in the beginning, but Dulcy never had a doubt that Quinn would ultimately dominate. It seemed his skill with people extended to animals, as well. There was a powerful magnetic quality about him, an enigmatic pull. His strength extended beyond his physical attributes. It went all the way to th
e bone, and shone in his dark eyes like a single star in the midnight sky.

  When Quinn finished, Dulcy had cupped her hands over her eyes to watch the same man cool down the horse with nearly as much attention to detail and thoroughness as when he touched her.

  Now, he was nowhere in sight. Not that she expected him to be. She’d watched him put on chaps, then ride off, his dark, unbound black hair flying behind him as he pointed a black Arabian stallion toward a point unknown.

  Dulcy looked down at her hands, which absently twisted her solitaire engagement ring around her finger. She bit on her bottom lip, wondering why it was called a solitaire when it was supposed to symbolize togetherness. Shouldn’t there be two diamonds of equal size, positioned side-by-side, to reflect the significance of the coming union? She couldn’t help thinking the single stone looked…single. Alone. Isolated, somehow.

  Then again, it seemed appropriate that her ring would mirror exactly what she was going through.

  She turned from the window. Discarded ransom note aside, it was becoming clearer that Brad hadn’t been kidnapped or taken against his will, but rather had disappeared voluntarily. To escape the coming wedding? It was looking more and more likely.

  She twisted the ring from her finger and held it up, admiring the way the slant of sunlight entered the diamond and splintered off in a thousand different directions. She crossed to pick up her cell phone from the desk. A call to Brad’s cell phone number brought no results, so she dialed another familiar number. Two rings, then she heard her mother answer.

  “Mom?”

  “Dulcy, is that you?” Catherine Ferris asked, genuine concern in her voice. “We’ve been wondering why we haven’t heard from you. Where are you? Is everything ready for the wedding? I’ve been calling the office constantly, but that Mona person is of no help at all. And you know how awful I am with the number to that wireless phone you have. Do you need help? Is there something we can do?”

  Dulcy curved her fingers around the back of the desk chair and closed her eyes. She was relieved by the worry in her mother’s voice. Maybe it would make telling her about Brad that much easier.