The only kink in her plan…the only true problem was the man…the painfully beautiful and strong man in front of her who seemed to chip away at that last thing that Piper held strong. Perhaps it was time to put back up that wall Quinn had managed to climb over. Put her emotions back in that little box and bury it. She could do that. She would do that, if only to save herself.
<<<<>>>>>
Quinn’s roused with a terrible ache in the side of his neck. He rose, rubbing the spot and glancing at the bed. It was empty. His eyes swept the room, and he found it, too, was empty.
A sound on his right made him swing around. The bathroom door swung open, and Piper, clad in nothing but a towel, stepped out. Her hair was wet mass of cinnamon waves, her eyes sparkling in a way he hadn’t seen earlier that day. She looked rested and well. When her eyes fell on him, she stilled. He gave her a soft smile, desperately wanting to see her smile in return. She didn’t. Instead, her eyes narrowed, and it suddenly looked like she was looking through him instead of at him. Seconds turned into minutes as her expression changed from one of a woman who had looked somewhat joyous, to one who suddenly looked sullen.
“I was going to wake you soon,” she said, crossing over to the closet next to the bed. That was when Quinn noticed a white garment bag hanging from a hook on the door. Piper’s fingers danced over the bag; it crinkled beneath her light touch. “I changed my mind about the ball.”
He’d been blind not to notice her indifferent tone. “Why?”
“Did you notice anything odd today?” Her back remained to him, one hand firmly on her towel, and the other firmly gripping the garment.
Her question made him gape. Of course he’d noticed odd things. He’d been surrounded by cremators, undertakers, and general talk of death. To anyone the day would have been odd. Yet he’d been more fascinated by Piper. Her actions—or non-actions, really. She’d been the odd one in the mix of everything he’d seen. Not that he wanted to say that to her.
“Not particularly,” he said, keeping a small distance between them.
“You know, Quinn, you’ve been the only person I’ve ever met who’s interested in what lies beneath a person.”
He took two steps, putting him right behind her. “That’s not true, Piper. You know it’s not.”
She sighed heavily, leaning back against him. The scent of her coconut shampoo engulfed him. He pressed his lips into her wet curls.
“I guess I should have said, what lies beneath me,” she corrected.
His arms wound around her. “You know that’s not true either, Piper.”
“That’s what I think.”
“I could name five people who think otherwise.”
“Try me.”
He chuckled in her hair. “Me—”
“You don’t count.”
“Let me finish.” He stroked her arms, enjoying when goose bumps erupted along her soft skin. “My mother and father, my grandpa, KC, and Mitch.”
She stiffened at Mitch’s name, but Quinn ignored it.
“There are more, I’m sure, I don’t know all their names. I’ll bet Margo and Jessica are interested in more than your work. And people like Mr. Butcher and Mr. Ryan. They’ve even said so themselves. You give something to people that you don’t even know you give.”
She twisted in his arms, her lashes fluttering with unshed tears. “What?”
“Compassion. And believe it or not—love.”
Tears fell down her cheeks. “It’s not love,” she murmured.
“Not to you,” he reassured, “but to them, what you give them, feels a lot like it.”
“No.”
He drew her closer, stroking down her back as he nuzzled against her hair. She pressed her face to his chest, clutching his shirt sleeves.
“Piper.” He could think of nothing else to say.
Cradling her tighter, his lips found her ear. “Talk to me.”
She stifled a sob, pressing her face into the front of his shirt.
Dear God, he couldn’t take this. He grasped her hand, saying nothing, and tugged her down on the bed. He stood over her, eyes fixed sharply on her reddened cheeks. The tears had stopped, but her bottom lip still quivered.
“Piper,” he said, his voice hoarse from seeing her in pain, “you’re killing me. Please, God, talk to me. I need to know what’s wrong.”
“I lied to you.” Her own voice was suddenly meek.
A wave of panic washed through him. Limbs shaking, he knelt in front of her. “Tell me, Piper. I can’t make you feel better unless I know what’s wrong. When you came out of the shower, I could tell something was different, but I hadn’t expected you to break down in tears.”
Her gaze dropped to her fingers twisting around the white fluffy towel. “When I got out of the shower, I was ready to face the evening. I’d slept, thought about my day and the ridiculousness of it, and then I decided to do what I do best. I decided some things…some important things…but when my eyes fell on you—”
Before she could finish that sentence, he jerked her up, locking her in his arms and capturing her mouth with a kiss. Soft, easy, sliding his lips over hers. When she moaned and eased against him, he drew away.
“Please don’t be upset, Piper.”
“I want to be honest with you, that’s all. And truly, that’s difficult for me.”
He hugged her tighter. “I know, and yet I don’t want it to be.”
Piper eased back, tears drying on her cheeks. “I’m not used to all…this.”
Quinn closed his eyes. “People got too close to you today, didn’t they?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s my fault, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
He kept his eyes clenched. “Which is why you were so distant the more we talked to people.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me how to fix it, Piper.” With that, he dared to open his eyes. Piper’s nutmeg depths were staring directly at him with an intensity he hadn’t seen before. There was something both stunning and terrifying about it.
“You can’t.” She backed away from him, flattening herself against the closet door.
His confusion mounted. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.” And he wanted to understand. Badly. But instead of begging, he stood there, biding his time, waiting for Piper to speak.
She crossed and uncrossed her arms. Her gaze flitted around the room before she finally settled back on him.
The first sound she made was a loud resigned sigh. “It’s you, Quinn. It’s always been you.”
He stepped back. “Me? I thought we went over this, Piper.”
“No. No. Do you realize I learned more stuff today about all these people than I have the entire time I’ve attended these conferences?”
He’d suspected as much, but he hadn’t really thought it affected her this much. Instead of answering, he simply nodded.
“And did you know they have never, ever, asked me any personal questions until today? And that’s how I liked it. Now these people—the kindred spirits of sorts—are not kindred at all. The only thing I accomplished today was learning that everything I’ve known and trusted was all a lie—created by yours truly here in order to cope with life. How sad is that? Truly, Quinn, I learned that I am not a person, I have no feelings, no relationships, and I am a robot. Why anyone would want anything to do with me is beyond me.”
He ached to hold her. She had been struggling with the things she’d learned that day. With him, too? He frowned, not really seeing the connection.
“What does that have to do with me?” He kneeled on the edge of bed.
She shook her head, sending her hair waves bouncing. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“No.”
“You, with your counseling background and smooth talking and calm demeanor, have done something that no one has ever been able to do.” Her voice rose, but her expression remained stilted, her eyes narrowed.
“Which is?” He inched forward.
“When I stepped into the shower, I was determined to go back to my life as it was. Not worrying about all the things around me. Doing what I do best, etcetera, etcetera. I’d resigned myself to my fate, what I’d been taught, what I’ve done with myself for the past thirty years. It’s been working so far, right? I could go on with it, you know. Meander through this life without a worry or care.” Her head fell back against the padded headboard. “That’s what I’d planned all along. And it worked. Until I met you…” She glanced up at the ceiling, as if she were looking through the drywall and into the sky above.
He couldn’t stand to see her like this. So torn. So confused.
“What did I do, Piper?”
“You made me care.”
And there it was. The words, so quietly spoken, made his heart hammer in his chest. He’d made her do something she’d never wanted to do. He knew, from Day One, how she felt about caring. It was last on her to-do list. He crawled across the bed, pushing apart Piper’s legs, and resting himself in front of her. “I didn’t mean to, Piper.”
When she finally looked at him, locking him in place with a look of both need and distance, he was utterly lost.
“I know,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry I’m such a mess. But you can’t stop being you, Quinn…and that’s what terrifies me the most.”
She was falling for him. He wasn’t blind. And now he had to wonder, in order to keep herself from taking that final leap, was she going to leave him? Was that what this was all about? He wasn’t ready to let Piper go.
He kissed her forehead, pausing to inhale the essence that was only Piper. “Don’t think about this too much. You won’t like where it takes you. The human brain can be a wonderful ally or your worst enemy, depending on how you use it. You’ll always be you, and I’ll always be me. Together, Piper, we can enjoy each other. That’s all I’m asking. And that’s all you want. Why can’t we just—” Words escaped him“—be?”
At that, a light chuckle rolled out of her, tickling his collarbone.
“What’s so funny?”
She drew away, a glimmer of hope in those eyes. “You. I should write down the things you say and sell them to a greeting card company.”
He gave a mocking grunt. “So that’s it? I’m only a greeting card, then?”
A playful smile finally emerged. “I think I told you that once already.”
“Touché.”
“But I like that about you. It reminds me how different we are.”
When her brow drew together, he gave her a swift kiss. “Differences don’t matter, Piper. Only the now does. You don’t have to change if you don’t want to. You’re strong. Independent. Nobody can take that away from you. I’d never want to try. I like you the way you are. Do you think you can just be with me? And not worry about all that other stuff?”
“I want to. I really do.”
“So then, yes?”
“I can try.”
“Then that’s all I ask.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Piper and Quinn made their way to the lobby, through the corridors, and finally walked through the wood doors leading to the ballroom. Quinn gave her side a firm squeeze, crinkling the soft red silk of her dress.
“In case I forget to tell you,” he whispered against her neck, “you look gorgeous.”
She smiled effortlessly. “You’ve already said that. Numerous times, actually.”
“Wanted to make sure you knew. I’ll be the envy of all the men who lay eyes on you tonight, I imagine.”
This time she laughed. “Good to know. And it’s good for you to know that you’re the only one of them who can catch—and keep—my attention.” She turned, circling her arms around his neck, and gave him a soft kiss. She both hated and loved how he always knew the right things to say.
Just like he had back in their hotel room when she’d been conflicted about what to do about him. But with a few words and a devastating kiss, he’d made her see that she could still be her and still be with him. It would be hard, but she could do it. And with him helping her along, how could she go wrong? So long as he didn’t love, she didn’t love, it was simple as that.
“Ready to party?” he asked, drawing away and interlacing their fingers.
Chuckling, she nodded and allowed Quinn to lead her into the Undertakers’ Ball.
The lights were low, making a shadowy and grim setting through the space. Twinkle lights flickered overhead, creating a glow against ghastly silver and black decorations. Real-life caskets sat about strangely situated black leather furniture all around the edges of the room. Urns littered the boundaries of where they should walk, and ghostly lampposts stood tall but unlit. And headstones protruded from the corners of the dance floor. It was Halloween gone wrong.
“Cheery,” Quinn commented, tugging her closer.
“I hate when they use this theme for the ball. Makes everything we do seem so dark.”
Quinn’s eyebrow rose at that statement. “You know, I recall you saying you hated being called an undertaker.”
“True.”
“Since you don’t like it, I imagine others in your profession don’t as well. Why would they choose this as a theme?”
“Comic relief?” Shrugging, she pushed past a crowd of people she vaguely remembered meeting earlier that day and headed for the food table. “Some people poke fun at the very essence of our job.”
“Sounds like those people are trying to have fun.”
She stopped at the moss-covered table, ignoring the mist rising from under it. “Are you trying to make a point?” Dipping out a cup of murky purple stuff, she turned to face him. He had a wicked gleam in his eye.
“Don’t I always?”
Snorting, she downed the entire glass. It tasted fruity—which was way better than how it looked. “Yes, too much, if you ask me.”
His face grew serious. “Would you like me to stop?’
“That would make you not you, which is something we are trying to avoid, no?”
His grin was quick. “You catch on fast, Piper.” He captured her with kiss. Everything around her melted away, and she suddenly didn’t want to be at the ball. She wanted to be in the softness of the sheets with Quinn’s strong arms around her. Loving her as he always did.
She shook her head from that thought. Tonight she was going to try to be normal. Her version of normal. Doing what she did best and all that. She could do it.
She caught Mitch’s eye from the other side of room. He waved before excusing himself from the conversation he’d been having and made a beeline for her and Quinn.
“Ah,” he said, stepping in front of her, “I see you had a change of heart.” His gaze flicked to Quinn then to Piper. Then to Piper’s dress. “Whoa.”
Piper blushed. “I know.”
“You look wonderful, Piper.”
Quinn’s arm wound possessively around her waist and tugged her close. “Doesn’t she though?” he said, his voice that smooth timbre.
Mitch’s expression gleamed. “That she does. I’d like you to meet someone.” Mitch weaved between a crowd of people next to them, reappearing a few moments later with a young and handsome blond man at his side. “This is my partner, Paul. Paul, this is a dear old friend of mine, Piper.”
Paul’s hand shot out at the same time he flashed a million-watt grin. “Wonderful to meet you, Piper. Mitch talks about you all the time.”
Piper’s cheeks heated, wondering what on earth Mitch could say about her. She held out her hand. Paul took it with an eager expression, lightly lifting her fingers to his lips. A kiss, quick and sweet, was placed on her hand.
Piper felt Quinn tense next to her. She wanted to spin around and roll her eyes at time, but instead only chuckled to herself. Quinn was even jealous of a gay man. Then again, Quinn had used the word envious. She didn’t know if she should be flattered or terrified. Right now she was only amused.
“How long have you two known each other?” she asked, dropping her hand to her side
when Paul released it.
“One year,” Mitch answered.
“Almost to the day,” Paul offered.
Piper did the math in her head. “Did you two meet at last year’s conference?”
“Yes,” they answered in unison, their eyes locking. Paul was simply beaming, and Mitch was grinning so wide Piper thought he might split his face in two. Then she caught it, a flicker of love crossed Mitch’s eyes. A softness and caring that she’d never seen before in him. Paul had the same look: love and deep devotion. It was right there, in nothing more than an expression.
Smiling that her old friend had found something that made him happy, her gaze swept to Quinn. Her breath hitched when she noticed how intently he was staring at her. And he was giving her that exact same look Mitch and Paul were giving each other. Gentle, full of longing and need with an unspeakable adoration, all wrapped up into one. A smile tilted his mouth. His expression got even more intense. Something twitched in her own chest, and she instantly felt the urge to run for the hills.
“I was just telling Paul how much I loved seeing you with Quinn here, Piper,” Mitch said, snapping Piper’s attention back to the men.
“What?”
“Quinn was introduced as your boyfriend, right? I could tell he was much more than that from first glance, even without the introduction.” A mischievous smile lit his face. “I told Paul, the other day, how you’ve been single most of your adult life and how I was worried this job was going to make a true undertaker out of you. All old and scary and sad.”
The two men erupted in laughter. Piper, on other hand, did not. She knew her friend was trying to be funny. And she knew he didn’t mean to upset her, but something about what he said did.
Quinn, once again, came to her rescue. He stroked the back of her arm as he spoke. “Speaking of undertakers, tell me, Mitch, since you’re the organizer of this little soirée, why did you pick this theme? Piper doesn’t like that particular term, and according to her, some of the others don’t either.”
Until Next Time Page 25