A Stranger's Touch

by Tori Carrington

  Quinn shook his head. He couldn’t live with that kind of risk. He wanted to know that the woman he chose to spend his life with was as committed to him as he was to her. Was as true and truthful as he would be to her. Living his life without knowing what tomorrow would bring wasn’t his style.

  If that was the case, what was he doing here with Brad, instead of going after Dulcy? By letting the dust settle, giving her time, wasn’t he contradicting his usual mode of operation?

  He pushed away from the desk. “That road might be okay for you, but I operate a little differently.”

  Brad made a clucking sound. “Who would have thought. Quinn Landis is a coward.”

  Quinn laughed. Not chuckled. He’d been called a lot of things in his life, but a coward wasn’t one of them.

  Brad crossed to stand in front of him, his expression as somber as Quinn had ever seen it. “I just want you to know that I meant neither you nor Dulcy harm. And that I don’t hold whatever it is between the two of you against you, either.”

  “Big of you.”

  Brad grinned. “Yeah, isn’t it?”

  He slapped Quinn on the back. “Come on, let’s get out of here and go get something to eat. I’m starved.”

  Quinn was hungry, too. But not for food.

  Nonetheless, he followed his friend out of the office for what would probably be the last time.

  A HEADACHE. A monstrous, temple-throbbing, skull-crushing migraine. That’s what Dulcy felt coming on, as Mandy Mallone and her fiancé launched into another argument, the third in ten minutes, across the conference table from each other.

  Jena leaned closer to Dulcy and whispered, “You can feed him the papers anytime now.”

  Dulcy stared at her and her friend shrugged.

  “At least it would shut one of them up.” She leaned back in her chair. “If ever I needed a reminder of why I don’t believe in marriage…”

  Jena had made her comment to Dulcy, but the arguing couple heard and instantly stopped arguing.

  “You don’t want to get married?” Mandy asked Jason after a long pause, during which the ice in the water pitcher could be heard melting.

  “The wedding’s tomorrow, Mandy,” Jason said, clearly exasperated.

  “What kind of answer is that?”

  “Yes, Mandy. I still want to marry you. There, is that answer enough for you?”

  Dulcy winced and glanced at her client, whose eyes widened in shock. Either that or she’d gone a little heavy on the mascara that morning.

  Jason Polansky’s attorney, Steve Saragin, leaned forward. “So long as you sign the prenuptial agreement.” He slid the papers toward Mandy for the third time. Mandy appeared to blink back tears as she stared at them. At least she wasn’t pushing them away, as she’d done on the other two occasions.

  Dulcy moved to smooth her hair, and was startled to find it wasn’t pulled back. For some odd reason she couldn’t seem to bring herself to do anything the way she usually did it.

  “She’s going to cave,” Jena whispered to her.

  Dulcy blinked and noticed Mandy reaching out for the papers with a shaking hand.

  Dulcy slapped her hand on top of the papers. Jason and his attorney groaned, Mandy looked at her with that doe-eyed optimism that made Dulcy wonder how someone so street-smart could be so fiscally gullible.

  The way she saw it, if she allowed her client to sign the papers she was essentially signing the death warrant for their relationship. Who could go into a marriage with this poor excuse for a document hanging over their heads? Six months, or maybe a year, down the road she would probably be sitting in the same room with Mandy and Jason, tearing apart the same agreement over a petition for divorce.

  Dulcy looked up. “May I have a word alone with you, Jason?”

  She knew it wasn’t normal protocol for the opposing attorney to ask to speak to the opposing claimant alone. But Jason was an attorney. And he was also a guy in love, from what she could make out. Although a screwy guy in love.

  “No way,” Saragin said. “Whatever has to be said can be said in present company.” He glanced Jena’s way and grinned. “Unless, of course, Ms. McCade would like to leave.”

  Dulcy’s gaze never wavered from Jason’s. “Do you want this wedding to happen or not? If you’re sincere in your response that you still want to marry my client, I’d suggest you do as I ask.”

  Jason quickly looked to Saragin, who shook his head, but she could tell she had him. One word from her either way, and Mandy either did or did not sign the papers.

  Dulcy got up. “Let’s go to my office.” She took the agreement from the table in case Mandy got antsy and signed the sucker anyway, then led the way from the room.

  Once in her office, she closed the door.

  “So, what do I have to do to get you to allow Mandy to sign those papers?” Jason asked.

  Dulcy crossed the room and leaned against her desk. “First I have something I’d like to ask you.”

  He grimaced.

  “You really didn’t think this was going to be easy, did you? What do you think I am, a wet-behind-the-ears law school grad?”

  Jason shrugged. “It was worth a try.”

  Dulcy lifted a finger. “That’s exactly what I’m going after here.”

  “I don’t get you.”

  “Do you love Mandy, Jason?”

  Dulcy already knew that he did. Ever since she’d returned from Quinn’s ranch, she’d been bombarded with phone calls. From Mandy, from Jason’s attorney, and from Jason himself, begging her to stop giving Mandy advice that would keep them apart.

  “I don’t see how that’s any business of yours.”

  Dulcy crossed her arms. “Since it’s my job to look after my client’s best interest, I think it is.”

  “Fine. Fine.” Jason ran his hand through his thick dark hair and murmured, “Yes, I love Mandy. More than you can know.”

  Dulcy guessed that she did know. And it was that emotion she was planning to use to her, and their, advantage.

  “Then, forget the contract,” she said point-blank.

  He blinked at her. “Are you nuts? Do you have any idea how much I’m worth?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. Down to the last penny.”

  “So you know how much I stand to lose in a divorce.”

  “If you make Mandy sign that, you’ll lose her.”

  “You don’t think she’ll marry me?”

  She shook her head. “Oh, she’s going to marry you, all right. Tomorrow. In front of God and everyone. But the reason she’ll be doing it isn’t for your money or for what she stands to gain financially. She’ll be marrying you for you. Because she loves you. And because you love her.”

  “So what’s the problem, then?”

  Dulcy stared at the ceiling and sighed. “That contract undermines everything honest about your love. Don’t you see that, Jason? Make her sign it and it will turn into an acid that will corrode your entire marriage.”

  “I’ll take it under advisement.”

  Which essentially meant no deal.

  Dulcy genuinely felt sorry for him. Not because he couldn’t see past the dollar signs swimming in front of his nose, but because he wouldn’t see where she was coming from until it was too late for him to turn back.

  “Let me tell you about my situation,” she said, then swallowed hard.

  She was banking on the fact that everyone and their brother knew what had happened over the past few days. Brad’s disappearance, and reappearance. And her unequivocal silence on the matter.

  Jason narrowed his eyes, apparently wondering where she was going with this.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not asking for a shoulder to cry on.” She gave a humorless laugh. “And if I did cry, it wouldn’t be for the reason you might think.” Her gaze trailed to the window and the city beyond. “My situation…well, it was a simple matter of the loss of control you’re trying to impose with that prenuptial agreement.”

  “You mean Brad with th
at hot salsa chick.”

  Dulcy found his description distantly amusing. “There’s that. But that’s not what I’m referring to. No, I mean me with the best man.”

  Jason stood up straighter. “What? It didn’t say anything about that in the papers.”

  “Nope. It won’t either, because I don’t plan on talking to them or any other members of the media.” She sharpened her gaze on him. “Do you want to know why I’m telling you this?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I think it does.”

  He grimaced. She smiled. “You should have thought more about the price before you came in here with me.”

  She rounded her desk but didn’t sit down. “A week ago I had complete control over my life. I was going to marry a great catch and, let’s face it, I’ve got a damn good job.” She looked down at her hands. “Then I lost that control. I met a man who made me want to do things that I…well, that I thought I would never have done in a million years. And I couldn’t help myself. I…I was forced to give up a bit of that control. Who am I kidding? I had to forfeit all of it in order to get what I wanted. And that was him.”

  “So when’s the wedding?”

  She shook her head. “There’s not going to be one.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I. Well, not fully, anyway.” She stepped to the window and looked out. “You see, losing that control scares me to death.” She realized that she’d given up control in other areas of her life but couldn’t bring herself to give in to it when it came to the whoppers. “I know if I see him again, I’d give anything to be with him. Anything. Everything.” She shivered, imagining Quinn’s hot hands branding her skin.

  “Which brings me back to you.” She turned to face Jason again.

  “What were you thinking about just now?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  He grinned.

  “Admit it, Jason. The only reason you want that damn prenup is to try to maintain some of the same control I just talked about. Emotional control. Being with Mandy makes you feel helpless, weak. And that scares you.”

  He glanced away.

  “I’m right, aren’t I. Don’t make the same mistake I’m making, Jason. While you’re marrying your girl, and I’ve left my guy, eventually we’re both going to end up in the same place.”

  “Alone.”

  “Yes,” she said quietly.

  For a moment he stared at her without really seeing her. She wasn’t sure what she’d said that had driven her message home, but she was pretty sure she’d succeeded.

  “Shall we rejoin the others?” she asked, picking up the prenup from her desk.

  He got up and led the way to the door. Dulcy touched his shoulder and handed him the papers. He stared at her. Her answer was a smile.

  They entered the conference room to complete silence. Then Jason tore up the prenuptial agreement and told Mandy he loved her.

  15

  THE PINK LADY LOUNGE. One o’clock on a Saturday afternoon. Quinn grimaced, just then realizing it was the time that Brad and Dulcy would have been getting married at Our Lady of Perpetual Hope Cathedral. Was it significant that Dulcy had summoned him here now? Or coincidence?

  The heavy bass of the music pulsated as he spotted the black woman from his previous visit bumping and grinding for the dozen or so men who’d chosen to have lunch there, though he suspected the limited food menu wasn’t what they’d come for. He tucked his hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out the fax he’d received the day before. Actually a re-fax of a fax. It had gone through to the ranch, and Ezzie had immediately contacted him to fax it through to his hotel. It read simply, “Pink Lady at one. Saturday.” It was signed, D.

  The same bartender from the other day slid a beer bottle in front of him and moved the peanuts within reach. “Still searching for that guy?”

  “Nope.”

  She smiled. “Good.”

  The door opened. Quinn squinted against the sudden bright sunlight. The new addition wasn’t Dulcy. He took a long pull from the condensation-dotted bottle, then rolled the glass between his palms. At least now he’d have an explanation for the dampness of his palms.

  The truth was, he wasn’t sure what to expect. For three long days Dulcy hadn’t been in contact with him. Then she sent this bizarre request. A meeting in a familiar place to give him the final shove off? He was afraid the chances of that happening were better than her declaring her love for him in this joint. He grimaced at one of the men who hooted near the stage, then bummed a cigarette off the guy sitting two stools up from him.

  It had been years since he’d smoked. And this was his second cigarette since Dulcy had entered his life. No, he didn’t plan to take up the habit again, but so long as he was sitting here breathing in others’ smoke, he might as well get some enjoyment out of it. He inhaled a deep drag, then let the smoke out in a long, thick cloud.

  “That’s Ebony, everybody. Show her how much you love her by giving her a big hand.”

  Quinn clapped without enthusiasm. The door opened again, and he stared in that direction. Not Dulcy.

  He glanced at his watch. Where was she? He never considered that she’d get him there and then not show up. He motioned to the barmaid then slid a newspaper clipping from his back pocket. He’d only kept the one page and it was folded back to a copy of Brad and Dulcy’s engagement announcement photo. Alongside it was another photo of Brad and Yolanda on the courthouse steps after a quickie wedding ceremony the previous evening. Beatrix Wheeler was a scowling presence behind them.

  He flashed the picture of Dulcy at the bartender, his thumb over Brad’s face. “Have you seen this woman come in here?”

  “Encouraging. You’re looking for a woman. That’s good.”

  Depended on what Dulcy had to tell him.

  The bartender squinted at the grainy picture, a deep-set frown on her face. Then she put on the reading glasses hanging around her neck by a gold chain. They made her look closer to what he guessed was her age.

  The announcer’s voice boomed through the joint. “Okay, guys, we have a special treat for you this afternoon. A first timer! They all have to start somewhere, right? Let’s give a warm hello, how do you do to delicious, decadent, delectable…Dulcy!”

  The barmaid grinned at him, slid the paper from his hands and pointed behind him.

  Quinn slowly turned toward the stage. Nothing. The platform was empty. Music began pumping through the sound system. Still no stripper. He rubbed his tired face. There was no way that the Dulcy due to take the stage was the same Dulcy. Hadn’t she, herself, told him the last time they were there that she would never, ever strip for him? And having come to know her, seeing firsthand all that she had gone through, he could never see her giving in to that naughty side he’d viewed so much of.

  The door opened. He glanced that way. No Dulcy.

  An enthusiastic shout went out near the stage. He glanced to find a head of teased blond hair peeking through the metallic beads at the back of the stage. The air in his lungs froze along with the last puff he’d taken from the cigarette. If he had any doubts that it was Dulcy, they were extinguished when she appeared to be pushed from behind. She stumbled center stage in a tight blue pinstriped pantsuit and towering stiletto heels, looking like a virgin on prom night. Then she snagged his gaze and a slow, sexy smile tugged at her red, red lips.

  Dear Lord.

  Quinn nearly choked on the smoke trapped in his lungs.

  Then Dulcy moved.

  Slowly. Uncertainly. She stepped nearer the oval circle at the front of the stage, her steps unsure. A female voice sounded behind her. She glanced that way, made an O with her mouth, then looked forward again. Sliding her hands down her body, she caught the button holding the jacket closed and appeared to have a problem undoing it. Then the jacket finally sprang open, revealing the shiny gold bikini top she wore underneath. With more finesse than Quinn would have thought possible, she let the jacket fall back off h
er shoulders, then smoothly down her arms. She caught the material in her right hand, gave it a couple of swings and launched it in his direction. It fell short, landing squarely on top of the balding head of another onlooker.

  Next came the pants—specially designed pants that, with one yank, cleanly broke away, revealing that her bikini bottoms matched the top. His gaze devoured the length of her long, long legs in the fishnet stockings and black heels. Another shout from behind the curtain and she put one leg forward, keeping it bent at the knee, then did a simple roll of her hips that sent the fire in Quinn’s lungs speeding straight for his groin.

  Dulcy’s blond curls had been worked so that they fell over her brows, cloaking her expression in seductive mystery. She stepped forward, reaching her arms up high to grip the metal bar. Her breasts pressed dangerously against the shiny material, her nipples engorged and protruding. Quinn’s gaze skimmed her toned abdomen, then fell lower still to where the tiny triangle of fabric barely covered her plump womanhood. She ran one hand down around her left breast, over her stomach, and then her fingertips dipped into the elastic of the bikini bottoms. Quinn found it impossible to breathe. And his heart doubled in size, thundering against his rib cage.

  While her awkward movements were provocative, the sexy shadows in her eyes were revealing. In that one moment Quinn knew that her brave display had nothing to do with sex. It had everything to do with her finding control in lack of control. Of giving herself over to love. Love for him. Love for them.

  He slowly rose from the stool and started to make his way to the stage.

  SWEAT, HOT AND LIQUID, trickled down the middle of Dulcy’s bare back, sending a shiver right after it. She felt exposed and vulnerable and—she swallowed hard—powerful as hell. But beyond the stage fright that had nearly kept her from going through with her plan, the only thing that mattered, once one of the strippers had pushed her through that curtain, was Quinn. She’d met his gaze and her anxiety had vanished. All that mattered was him. Her need for him. Her love for him. Her longing to have him back in her life.