At First Touch

by Tamara Sneed

  Wyatt glanced over and choked when he saw Quinn standing next to him. He gulped in disbelief. He hadn’t known she owned such a somber dress. She wore a black dress that stopped at a respectable length at her knees, her usually wild riot of curls was tamed into an understated bun at the top of her head, and there was not a speck of makeup on her face.

  She looked like the picture of a mortician’s wife, or at least a mortician’s girlfriend. And then he saw her black stiletto heels. He fought his grin.

  Quinn sent him a soft smile, then turned toward the front of the room. Wyatt followed her gaze, suddenly feeling as if he could stand the sadness and the grief. With her by his side, it all seemed…almost bearable.

  Wyatt followed the program as much as he could, but he was more focused on Quinn. She never took her attention away from the speakers, and she never took her hand from his. She was like a still, composed statue. Wyatt couldn’t even remember his mother standing with his father like this.

  As soon as the last speaker sat down, Wyatt dropped Quinn’s hands and walked to the front of the room.

  He kept his voice soft as he said, “We have prepared refreshments in the drawing room. When you’re ready, please feel free to head in that direction. Thank you.”

  The few people who did look at him looked as if they were underwater, drowning. He cleared his throat, then walked back to Quinn, who, if it was possible, was giving him support without one word. He took her hand and led her to an empty viewing room and closed the door.

  Before he could open his mouth, she said abruptly, “I’m sure you want to know what I’m doing here, and I’m kind of wondering the same thing, except I think…I think we decided in the middle of all of this that we were friends, and as your friend I wanted to be here. For you.”

  The two stared at each other for a moment, as Wyatt tried to think of how to respond. He should have been cool, calm and collected. Uncaring. Except that wasn’t how he felt.

  He said softly, “I’m glad you’re here, Quinn. I could really use a friend right now.”

  She smiled and moved toward him, as if to hug him. Then she hesitated, no doubt replaying his little performance from yesterday. Wyatt silently cursed because even though he knew he shouldn’t, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to touch her. He just wanted her. He took one step closer to her, and then the door opened. The two jumped apart like teenagers caught in a dark basement.

  Beatrice walked into the room, the disapproval apparent in her eyes and her pursed lips. She glanced at Quinn and stiffly nodded, then turned to Wyatt.

  “Ron is asking for you,” Beatrice said.

  Wyatt nodded, then glanced at Quinn. She sent him a small smile, but Wyatt saw the hesitation in her eyes. She did not want to be alone with Beatrice and, frankly, Wyatt didn’t blame her.

  “Hurry up, Wyatt. We don’t keep our customers waiting,” Beatrice said.

  Wyatt squeezed Quinn’s hand, then walked out the room. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, praying that his mother wouldn’t run Quinn off, then hurried down the hall.

  Quinn gulped over the sudden lump in her throat as she stood alone in the room with Beatrice. A man’s mother. The natural enemy of Quinn Sibley. Quinn forced a smile at Beatrice, who only stared at her in response. Beatrice’s gaze dropped to Quinn’s hands, and Quinn realized that she was nervously wringing her hands. Quinn instantly clenched her hands into fists and dropped them to her sides.

  Quinn did not imagine the corner of Beatrice’s mouth slightly lifted in a smile, as if reveling in Quinn’s show of nerves. Beatrice gave Quinn the same look of triumph that Sephora’s archenemy, Phoebe Childress, had given her numerous times over the years, then turned to the door.

  “Beatrice, wait,” Quinn said, abruptly. Beatrice turned to her, her expression cold and forbidding.

  Quinn gulped again. Now that she had Beatrice’s attention, she didn’t know what she was supposed to say. She wasn’t Wyatt’s girlfriend. She was barely his friend. Wyatt had practically thrown her out of his house yesterday.

  “Yes?” Beatrice said, and that one word nearly froze the room over.

  Quinn cleared her throat, then said, “I know that you don’t exactly like me. I get it. But I like your son. I think I actually love him. I don’t know if he loves me. In fact, I doubt that he does. But that doesn’t change how I feel. So, I hope that you know that I want nothing but the best for him, and you have nothing to fear from me because I would never hurt Wyatt.”

  “That’s a touching speech,” Beatrice said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “I’ve heard it before somewhere…Ah, yes. Didn’t you give that speech on Diamond Valley two years ago when Sephora first met the mother of the riverboat captain?”

  Quinn’s face burned with humiliation. “You didn’t tell me that you watched the show,” she stuttered.

  “Once or twice,” Beatrice snapped.

  “Maybe the words are the same, but the sentiment is real,” Quinn said, hastily. “I really care for Wyatt.”

  “You have a funny way of showing it. For instance, why did you bring another man to my son’s home in the morning? Did you just want to rub his face in your affairs?”

  “I wasn’t rubbing his face in anything,” Quinn retorted angrily. “Vaughn is a friend.”

  “Oh, really? Is that why he told everyone who would listen in the diner this morning that you and he were thinking of moving in together when you returned to Los Angeles?”

  “What?”

  “I know your type. The Hollywood type,” Beatrice said heatedly. “You collect men like trophies.”

  “I think you have to be able to get a job in Hollywood to be the Hollywood type, so, trust me, I am not the Hollywood type. Maybe the Burbank type, or the—”

  Beatrice’s eyes narrowed and she demanded, “Are you making fun of me?”

  “No,” Quinn said uncertainly, then more firmly, “No.”

  “You think you’re better than everyone else in this town—”

  “Stop it,” Quinn shouted. She flinched surprised at the volume of her own voice. Beatrice’s eyes widened in shock. Quinn cleared her throat and said quietly, “I don’t want to argue with you, Beatrice. But I want you to know that I’m not the enemy. I love Wyatt, and I want him to be happy. And whether that’s with me or not is for him to decide, not you.

  “I can’t help if you like me or not, but I just ask that you give me a chance. Because in the end, we both want the same thing—for Wyatt to be happy.”

  Beatrice stared at her for a moment, then averted her gaze. Quinn was surprised. She had actually won a staring contest with her.

  Beatrice finally looked back at Quinn, then said stiffly, “I can accept that.”

  Quinn sagged against the door, then straightened when Beatrice rolled her eyes in disbelief.

  Beatrice asked, “Have you said everything you’ve wanted to say?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then can I leave?”

  “Of course,” Quinn said, confused, then realized that she was bodily blocking the door. She quickly jumped out the way.

  Beatrice opened the door, then turned to Quinn and said, with a slight smile, “I recognized that last speech, too, Quinn. For the record, you delivered it much better than you did on Diamond Valley.”

  Beatrice walked out the room. Quinn shook her head in disbelief, then softly laughed.

  “Long day?” Quinn murmured as she and Wyatt walked into his apartment.

  Wyatt didn’t bother to turn on the lights in his apartment, but turned to face Quinn. She looked even more beautiful in the fading sunlight that streamed through the windows. He wanted to touch her. Instead of pushing his luck, he closed the door, then leaned against it to stare at her.

  “You were there for every moment,” he said, the awe apparent in his voice. “I think I even saw Mom smile at you once.”

  Quinn smiled, but only said, “Let’s just say that your mother and I have reached an understanding.”

  The two cont
inued to stare at each other. There was something that happened when he made eye contact with her. There were sparks, a jolt of something that hit him every time he met her beautiful eyes.

  He looked away for a moment, just to be able to come up with a coherent sentence. “I’ve ruined your entire Christmas Eve.”

  “It’s not over yet,” she whispered, something unreadable flashing across her face.

  For some reason, his voice lowered, too. “If you hurry, you can make it in time for the dinner at the Forbes’.”

  She stared at him for a moment, then took two steps closer to him. “I’m right where I want to be.”

  He shook his head, confused, about the certainty in her eyes. She loved him. It was obvious. Once more, he felt as if he were the last one in this town to know anything.

  He suddenly felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff. Maybe Graham was right. Wyatt was scared. All of the emotions racing through his body, the emotions visible on Quinn’s face. How was he supposed to handle that? They were too different, too combustible together. He had never experienced anything like it, and he couldn’t fathom how he would live with this every day, the expectations in her eyes. The love. No wonder he was alone. He couldn’t disappoint anyone when he was alone.

  “Quinn—”

  She interrupted him, as if sensing that he was about to end things. “Wyatt, you were right. A part of me did think that sleeping with you would make the issue of using the house disappear, but that’s not why I slept with you. I slept with you because you make me feel like no other man has ever made me feel. Cherished.”

  Tears surprisingly clogged his throat as he said, “I’m sorry I said those horrible things to you.”

  “You should be,” she said with a slight smile, then wrapped her arms around his neck. “But, I forgive you.”

  “You shouldn’t. You could have any man you want, Quinn.”

  “I do have any man I want.”

  Wyatt couldn’t believe her. His mind warred with his heart. She would come to her senses soon enough and then where would Wyatt be? Not only alone, but alone and completely ruined. That scared him more than any funeral ever had.

  He decided tonight would be it. He would spend one night saying goodbye, then he would cut himself off cold turkey. Quinn would be hurt, at first. But it was for the best. For her, because she had her whole career ahead of her. And for him, because he wouldn’t have to face the inevitable rejection and pain.

  “I didn’t even buy you a Christmas present,” he murmured.

  “I never thought I’d say this, but the best things in life are free. And you’re one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

  Before he whispered how much he loved her, Wyatt kissed her.

  Quinn’s eyes slid closed of their own accord as Wyatt’s mouth covered hers. She immediately noticed something different in his kiss tonight. He was practically desperate. His hands clung to her shoulders. His hips ground against hers. His tongue owned her mouth, subduing her. Saying goodbye.

  “Wyatt?” she whispered, staring at him uncertainly.

  “Shh, baby. I want to remember tonight. Every detail,” he said in that passion-roughened voice that always drove her crazy.

  His hands found the zipper on the back of her dress, and the soft whir of the zipper being released filled the air. His gaze never left hers as he slowly slid the dress down her body. His expression alone could have brought her to completion. He released the band in her hair and ran his hands through the strands, loosening them. She sighed as his hands massaged her head. His touch was magical, soothing. She never wanted any other woman to know his touch.

  She shuddered as he finally looked at her breasts covered with lace and the center of her panties that had already grown damp.

  “Lie down,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to the sofa.

  She complied and laid on the sofa for him. He stood over her, staring at her from head to toe, as if memorizing every detail. She saw her own perfection in his gaze. She would never think of herself as ugly and fat, even if she gained one hundred pounds. In Wyatt’s eyes, she was perfect however she was.

  Like silk, he finally moved on top of her, spreading her thighs to position himself directly against her center. She shuddered again as the coarse material of his slacks rubbed against her bare thighs. She was completely nude, while he remained clothed in his suit and tie.

  She reached for him, but he evaded her hands and slid down her body, planting kisses against bare skin. She bit her bottom lip as his tongue dipped into her belly button. Something akin to a nuclear bomb started at that spot and spread to her feet and toes.

  “Wyatt,” she whispered.

  “You’re so beautiful, Quinn. I will never forget you as long as I live.”

  For a brief moment, she was drawn out of the cocoon he had created. She wanted to ask him what he meant, but then he kissed her. Licked her. Suckled her until she was writhing uncontrollably and tears slid from the corners of her eyes. He still did not show her mercy. Instead, he clamped down on her thighs and spread them even farther apart for better access.

  “Please,” she begged, but his questing, seeking tongue never paused. He was trying to kill her.

  Just when Quinn was on the verge of hurtling over the edge of sanity, Wyatt stopped. His eyes were dazed as he ripped off his suit and shoes. He came back to her, and she clung to his shoulders

  No sound came out of her open mouth when he slowly and torturously pushed inside her. He was too big. She was so tight. He pulled out, then slowly moved in again. His face was the picture of unfettered pleasure.

  Quinn held on for dear life, loving the feel of him. Needing him. She wrapped her legs around him, chaining him to her in case he ever thought of escaping.

  He continued to stroke as he drove his tongue into her mouth. She responded with her entire soul, unable to breathe on her own, without his kisses giving her much-needed oxygen. She tore her mouth from his and squeezed her eyes closed, unable to handle the feelings anymore. It was all too much.

  She screamed his name and went over the edge. Wyatt soon followed, then fell on top of her, breathing hard. He was so heavy. Too big. But she wrapped her arms around him anyway, needing to feel every inch of him.

  “Let’s move to the bed,” Wyatt murmured against her ear. “I’m crushing you, and this sofa is not exactly comfortable.”

  “I don’t want to move,” she whispered. “I want to stay right here until we hear Santa Claus go by.”

  She felt more than heard his laughter. “There is no Santa Claus, Quinn.”

  “Just for tonight, I’m going to believe in miracles.”

  He rolled off her, ignoring her protests. But he pulled her into his arms, wrapping a blanket lying on a nearby chair around them. As she settled against his chest, she heard him whisper, “For tonight, I do, too, baby. I do, too.”

  Chapter 20

  Quinn woke up to complete silence and sunlight streaming through Wyatt’s bedroom windows. At some point, they had moved to his bedroom and had continued to make love to each other. Eventually, Wyatt had foraged food from the refrigerator and they had fed each other, then made love again. Quinn had never particularly cared one way or the other about Christmas Eve, but now it was her favorite holiday. Then again, any holiday with Wyatt was going to be her favorite holiday.

  For the first time, Quinn allowed herself to think of a future with him. She could imagine him with silver hair and those same twinkling brown eyes surrounded by a few more smile lines. She wasn’t quite ready to think of herself in the same light, but she would be right by his side. Children would come at some point, and who knew where they’d live, but all of that could be worked out.

  She smiled at her reflection in the mirror and combed down her tangled hair. She had looked better, but she still climbed out the bed and grabbed the man’s robe on the closet door to find Wyatt. No makeup or hair brush in sight. It was funny when she thought about it. The adoration of millions
meant nothing, but one man loved her and she was ready to eat everything in sight and proclaim her weight to any magazine that would listen.

  She found him in the kitchen, sitting at the table, sipping a cup of coffee and staring out the window. He looked at her when she walked into the kitchen, but he didn’t smile like he usually did. Instead, he looked sad. Scared, almost. Quinn decided to ignore his strange behavior and crossed the kitchen to plant a kiss on his lips. A kiss that he didn’t return.

  “Merry Christmas,” she said, smiling.

  He gave a forced smile, then stood and walked across the kitchen. Away from her. “Do you want some coffee? Something to eat?”

  “Coffee would be nice.” She sat in the chair he had vacated and stretched her arms over her head. “I bet my sisters are gossiping about us right now. I probably should have called them last night. I was supposed to meet them at Graham’s parents’ house for dinner. We’ll make it up to them today at Christmas dinner. You are planning to come over for Christmas dinner, right? You and Beatrice? Although to be honest, I wouldn’t mind spending Christmas alone with you here. Although, Charlie would kill us, so we’d probably have to make a brief appearance at dinner. Don’t you think?”

  Wyatt set a cup of steaming coffee in front of her on the table. He sat across from her and stared at her for a moment.

  Quinn took a sip of coffee, then set the cup down and met his gaze. She stopped smiling and said, “You’re scaring me, Wyatt. What’s wrong?”

  He averted his gaze, then seemed to force himself to look at her. “Quinn…last night…I…I can’t do this.”

  She blinked in confusion. “You can’t do what? Go to Christmas dinner? I don’t want to go, either—”

  “No, Quinn,” he said quietly. “You and me. It’s not going to work.”

  She froze. Every single muscle in her body froze for one second. Then she blinked and whispered hoarsely, “What are you talking about?”

  “You want to be a movie star, and we both know that’s not going to happen here.”