by Ava Miles
He was also showing her that he was very much the man she’d fallen in love with fifteen years ago.
“If you need to take the morning off,” Quinn said, suddenly tense beside her, “you take it. I mean it. We can start later than usual.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, rising. “As Arthur says, it’s probably time for me to hit the hay. Thanks again for another wonderful meal, you two.”
“It’s always a pleasure to cook,” Alice said. “Right, Hargreaves?”
“Yes, Miss Bailey,” he said, “especially with you as a partner. Would you care for a cup of tea, Francesca?”
“I’ll take care of her,” Alice said, rising from her seat. “Come on, Francesca. We’ll see you all in the morning.”
But of course Alice didn’t just walk away. She kissed both Hargreaves and Arthur on the cheek before swooping in and giving Clara a hug. Alice in action was always a thing of wonder, her warmth both genuine and remarkable. When Alice looked at Quinn, he held out his arms playfully.
“No, you’re not ready for one of my hugs yet,” Alice said wisely. “But I’ll break you down. Ask Francesca. If I can get her father to kiss me warmly European style, I can win over anyone.”
Quinn’s eyebrows went to his forehead. “Georges Maroun kissed you warmly?”
She preened. “It was a good moment.”
“If you say so.” Quinn rose, and his green eyes were somber when they met Francesca’s. “Good night. Please take some time for yourself.”
“You get some rest too.” She wanted to reach out to him. To hug him like Alice hadn’t. To do more, but Alice took her arm before she could make a move.
“Come on.”
Waving good night as the rest of the party started breaking up, they walked up the stairs.
“My room or yours?” Alice asked.
“I have a nice chaise we can share to watch the storm together.”
“I love storms,” Alice said as they entered her room.
Francesca shut the door behind them. “Okay, I know you. Are you really that worried about me?”
“A little.” Her friend grabbed her hands and held on tight. “This assignment is emotional enough, but the news gets worse every day. I see it wearing you down. I hate that.”
“I’ll weather it.” She was a Maroun in that way.
“I thought you might want some happy news, though. At least, it made my day.”
“Tell me.”
“Quinn framed my drawing of you and put it in his bedroom.”
He’d framed it and put it in his bedroom? “I can’t believe he— Okay, I can believe it.” God, it was heartbreaking and sweet.
“It came this afternoon from a local gallery, and they hung it. I totally freaked out. Hargreaves found it amusing, but he’s like that. Of course, he told me not to peek.”
Her heart was thumping rapidly in her chest. “But you did.”
“Francesca, I have to give him big points for this one. I’ve been dying to tell you since I saw it earlier, but you two were buried downstairs. You totally need to see it.” Alice paused. “That should boost you, don’t you think? Also, he’s been super chill with you. I’ve been keeping an eye on you two, and he hasn’t stepped out of line. Hargreaves concurs. That’s something, right?”
“He’s been giving me space.” She let go of her friend’s hands. “Oh, Alice. I still don’t know what comes next. I mean, I still want him.”
“You want him like crazy, you mean,” Alice said. “I mean, smoke rises every time you look at each other. I could cook a steak with your heat.”
A reluctant laugh tumbled out. “Dinner tomorrow? Oh, Alice, I trust your opinion. I figure you have one.”
“I always do.” She gave a comical shrug. “But what do you want to do?”
“I’m going crazy with wanting,” she admitted. “And my heart feels stretched more and more by all the feelings I have for him. But we have a lot on our plates. If we start in on each other, I don’t want to be dashing off to the guest cottage during the workday.”
“If you catch up on work later, who cares? Do you really think the great Francesca Maroun won’t be able to focus on her assignment because she’s tearing up the sheets with her associate?” She put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, did I just say that?”
Francesca bit her lip, fighting a smile. “Yes, you did. I’m actually glad you did. And thank you for not calling him my boss,” she said, walking to the windows where the storm was lighting up the sky.
“You’re my boss, and we manage it,” Alice said logically. “You excel in complicated relationships. You’ve always said that.”
She thought of her father again. “Excel might be a strong word.”
“Bull. The work is going great despite the emotional component.” Alice came up beside her as lightning flashed, illuminating the crashing waves of high tide.
“Yes, it is. We’re…so in sync about most things. Any sticking points are only because he doesn’t want to hurt people, especially family.” She still hadn’t figured out a strategy for keeping the skincare line, but she would. Anything else would break him.
“That’s a good sign, right? All I’m saying is that it got to me, seeing that drawing in his room. I’ve dated a lot of losers. They wouldn’t have blinked if someone tossed away a simple marker drawing of me. Francesca, he acted like I was about to trash the Mona Lisa.”
The urgency with which he’d stopped Alice had shocked her, and so had the careful way he’d detached the paper to avoid tearing it. But still, she’d never imagined he would frame it. “All right, I’ll look.”
She would consider it more data. Oh, who was she kidding? Her heart wasn’t an adding machine.
“Is this where I tell you that I also snuck into the guesthouse?” Alice batted her big brown eyes with false innocence.
“You did?” At night, when her mind wasn’t being helpful, she’d lie awake and imagine what it looked like. Sometimes she could swear she smelled the jasmine.
“Hargreaves knows, but he’d never say anything. Francesca, it’s like a romantic dream in there. Okay, I was dying to tell you that too. Are you going to kill me?”
She took her friend’s shoulders and kissed her on both cheeks like she would a friend at home. “Never. I admire your spunk, as they say.”
“Whew! Okay, I’m going down to the kitchen to get us some tea. Hargreaves has this incredible blend called the Queen’s Delight.”
She wanted more than a cup of tea, but it would quiet her mind. “You’re not going to be my lookout so I can sneak into Quinn’s room?” The very thought made her heart hammer.
“I can do that too! Do you want to?”
While her diaphragm constricted, she heard herself say, “Yes, actually. He usually goes to his office one last time before he retires for the night. It should be safe.”
Alice grabbed her hand and tugged her to the door. She cracked it open and looked out. “All clear.”
They stepped into the hallway, and sure enough, Quinn’s door at the end of the hall was wide open. The other doors were all shut, save Alice’s.
“We’re acting like kids,” Francesca whispered. “Is this terrible?”
“No, sneaking around can be very fun,” Alice assured her. “Go on! I’ll head to the kitchen for our tea. I’ll keep an eye out for him down below. Unless you want me to go with you.”
“No, you intercept him if need be.” If he caught her wandering around his room, she’d be mortified. “Imagine anyone finding out I acted like this.”
Like a teenager with a crush.
Like a woman in love, a small voice insisted. Like you acted with him before.
“It makes me love you all the more,” Alice said, squeezing her hand before letting go. “Walk slowly but assuredly. If anyone finds you, say you got turned around.”
She had to suppress a nervous giggle. “No one would believe that, least of all the Hales and Hargreaves.”
“You’re right, but they�
��d applaud you. I’m off. Go!”
Francesca crept down the hallway with what could best be described as soft ballerina steps designed not to make a sound. Her old training at boarding school had a new purpose: sneaking into a man’s room as a grown woman.
Later she would have to decide if this was a positive life moment or not.
She started when she heard Arthur and Clara laugh through their door as she passed it. Quickening her pace, she crossed Quinn’s threshold and stopped short.
The framed drawing hung on the wall across from his massive king bed. Her thighs tightened, knowing he could look at it while he lay there under the white silk duvet. Oh, dear God.
He’d had it framed in what looked like gold foil with a small blue line on the inner part of the frame—the same color as the marker Alice had used. The elegant presentation had taken a simple drawing and made it something she could see hanging in the Tate Gallery in London. Alice’s art had always amazed her, but now Francesca wondered whether her friend should do something more with it. Then again, Alice was a Jill of all trades. She did what she wanted when she wanted.
Francesca admired her for it. Perhaps it was time for her to try living that way too.
Someone cleared their throat, and the dark grumble of it had her fisting her hands at her sides. She knew Quinn’s every utterance. Turning slowly, she felt her lips part in shock—and also admiration—before she could control her reaction.
He was in a white towel, freshly showered, his bare chest and shoulders a feast for the senses.
Her eyes traveled across his upper body, one that had matured into total male perfection over the years. His strong build stole her breath. But it was his hot green gaze that kicked off her inner trembling.
He didn’t say anything. God, should she? Instead, they continued to stare at each other. His dark hair was damp and towel-dried. She wanted to spear her fingers through it and lower his mouth to hers. Her skin could already feel the warmth of his touch—across the line of her neck, her décolletage, and her thighs.
She was breathing harshly, she realized, her chest rising and falling from the tension swirling inside her. Their eyes locked again, and it was then that she saw the aroused pulse in his neck. Desire rolled through her, hot and lush.
She wanted him.
More, she loved him.
The fog that had been taunting her finally cleared and the image of them together crystalized in her mind. He was holding her hand at their tenth anniversary party, and their children were on the edges of the screen, smiling at them. In another, he was older and gray but no less sexy, and they were working quietly on the couch with their laptops, perfectly at ease with each other.
She wanted that future, and she was going to take it.
She crossed to his bedroom door and shut it.
As soon as it was closed, they rushed to each other. He wrapped her up in his arms, his mouth meeting hers in an urgent press of lips and tongue. She banded her arms around him and gripped his back. The moan that erupted from her throat had him moaning in kind.
Suddenly he wrenched his mouth back and stared down at her.
“Does this mean what I hope it means?” he asked, his tone guttural with longing and desire.
“Yes!” Her hands dug into his lower back. “Yes, I want this. And you. Forever.”
“Thank God!” He swung her up into his arms and headed to the door. “Hang on. We’re going to the guesthouse.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck as he strode down the hallway and then the stairs.
Alice froze at the edge of the family room, two cups of tea in her hands. “Ah… I’ll just…”
“Good decision,” Quinn said, walking past her.
Her friend turned around and rushed back to the kitchen, tea sloshing on the floor in her haste.
“I should be so embarrassed,” Francesca muttered, but she found she wanted to laugh. The pressure of these last weeks was gone, and she was giddy with the feeling of freedom.
“Later,” he said, shifting her and opening the front door. “Be embarrassed later.”
The rain drenched them as he followed the flagstone path lined with outdoor lighting. When he turned to follow the path to the guesthouse, she buried her face in his chest to escape the rain.
They were really doing this. At last!
The outside lights glowed over them—he’d left them on all this time as a beacon—and then he was opening the door to the guesthouse and striding through the small family room to the back. The scent of jasmine saturated her nose, the smell so sweet and dear. She wanted to weep from the welcome.
Her heart was officially home.
Chapter 13
The feel of Francesca in Quinn’s arms was going to be his undoing.
Entering the bedroom, he sat on the edge of the soft bed and cradled her, his heart in his throat. There was so much emotion rising inside him he felt swept under by its force. Her wet hands gripped him, and when she pressed her face into his damp neck, he knew she was feeling it too.
The full force of their love was gathering its strength and enfolding them once more in its power.
Despite being wet from the rain, he felt a warmth radiate up his body from his loins to the top of his head, and his heart expanded so he thought it might outpace his chest. After so long, she was his again. He’d known it the moment she’d closed his bedroom door.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I never stopped.”
“Oh, Quinn.” She gripped his nape. “I love you too. So much I couldn’t stop either.”
He nudged her neck with his nose, reacquainting himself with the feel and smell of her. Her subtle perfume captured his senses even with the jasmine filling the house. She put her hands in his damp hair, the gesture so loving and poignant his chest squeezed in response. His love for her grabbed him by the throat. He pressed his face into her neck again and held on, hoping the feelings would settle.
But they only grew stronger.
So many years had passed without her, nearly bereft of hope and joy, but no more.
He heard her sniff, and it prompted him to lift his head. Tears were coursing down her beautiful face. She’d been thinking about their separation too. He lowered his mouth and kissed her again to comfort them both. But he did it lightly this time. Oh, so lightly.
The longer he kissed her, the more he was pulled by the twin urges to both take her and savor this moment for as long as possible. So he hovered over her lips, kissing her softly and gently. She continued to caress the back of his head, her lips seeking his before she pulled back slightly, lips hovering inches from his own, and just looked at him. Desire and love filled his heart, and he cupped her face in benediction. She was so beautiful, so dear, but he couldn’t force the words out. Nor did he want to. The communication coming from their hearts and their bodies was stronger than any words either of them could utter right now. The silence was its own sanctuary.
When he lowered his mouth to hers this time, she opened to him completely. The kiss was lush and wet and so carnal the urge to rush surged through him. He pressed back, not wanting to rush, and kissed her softly on the jaw and the underside of her neck. Her breath rushed out when he pressed his lips to a spot that had always inflamed her, and her body moved against him.
Wanting to give her what she needed, he lowered her onto the bed and lifted her shirt. Her clothes were damp and outright wet in places from the rain, and he began to remove them. Her hands reached for his towel, and they gazed at each other as lightning flashed outside the windows, followed by a rumble of thunder.
Her body was more beautiful and womanly than ever, and he told her so in slow, gentle caresses, starting with the undersides of her breasts and then running his hands down her torso to her belly and still lower. His eyes locked on hers, he covered her with his palm. Her hips rose to meet him.
“I need you,” she whispered, tracing his jaw. “Come to me now.”
He cupped her cheek with his other hand, hi
s emotions unstoppable now. “I love you,” he whispered. “So much.”
“Oh, Quinn.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I love you too. I missed you so badly. I felt like my heart wasn’t whole anymore.”
He lowered his forehead to hers. “Me too. But we’re okay now.”
Their time apart was over. His lips hovered over hers again, his hand still stroking her, making her arch against him.
“Quinn, please.”
Her plea couldn’t be denied, not when her voice caught like that. He caressed her cheek and waited until she opened her eyes. “I’m clean healthwise, but do we need to use protection?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m on the pill. My physical was fine too.”
“Good,” he said, nodding. “Francie…”
His throat closed again, and she framed his face. “It’s all right. Come to me now.”
He didn’t want to lose control, but the sharp claws of desire were gripping him. She slid under him, clutching his back and urging him on. He rested his forehead against hers and slid inside her. The feel of it had him locking himself in place to keep from giving in to the madness.
Then her hips lifted and she opened to him even more. He was lost. His first thrust went deep, and she moaned low and loud. That was all it took to unleash their desire. The rhythm they found was wild and beautiful, filled with a remembrance of times past. Her cries sharpened as their thrusts grew frantic, and then she was coming apart under him, hurling him over the edge.
He pressed his face into her neck, breathing hard, as the aftermath of their desire wrapped him in an embrace. She was the only woman he’d ever felt it with, this completeness, and his heart pulsed with the power of it. Love overwhelmed him, and from the way her hands clutched him, he knew it was the same for her.
Surrendering, he held on to her and let go the rest of the way. She was the woman of his heart and she had returned to him. There was nothing else.