Her Christmas Hero

by Linda Warren

  Carin blinked. “We’re not trapping weasels.”

  “Oh, but we are, sweet daughter.” Ona grabbed her purse. “Let’s go. We have to take Enzo to the home.”

  “I’ll take Enzo. It’s on my way,” Quinn said, and Britt wondered how long he’d been standing there and how much he’d heard.

  “There’s no need, Mr. Ross.” Her mother’s voice was as cold as she’d ever heard it.

  “I’m going with Mr. Hotshot.” Enzo fitted his baseball cap on his head and reached for his cane. “He might buy me beer.”

  Carin whirled toward Quinn. “Do not buy him any more beer.”

  Quinn nodded and glanced at Britt. She gave a tentative smile and suddenly knew why he had come today. He wanted to be with her as much as she wanted to be with him. And God help her, that just made their situation worse.

  “Are we going by any strip clubs?” Enzo asked Quinn as they walked toward the door.

  Her mother gasped.

  “Sorry, Enzo,” Quinn said. “No beer, no strip clubs.”

  “You’re still more fun than Carin.”

  “Boy, he said a mouthful,” Ona remarked.

  “Don’t start with me, Mama.”

  “Goodbye, my pretty.” Onnie hugged Britt. “Let’s go, Carin. Maybe we can stop for a beer so you can loosen up a bit.”

  The words hit a nerve. Her mother’s face became pinched and Britt thought she was going to cry. Britt immediately went to her.

  “Mom…it’s okay. Onnie is teasing.”

  “I’m just so worried about you.”

  “Listen to me.” Britt hugged her mother. “I’ll be fine. I’ll get through this, but I need you to be strong.”

  “Okay.” Carin sniffed. “I love you, baby.”

  “I love you, too, Mom. I’ll call tomorrow.” She playfully shook a finger in her face. “And do not stop at any beer joints.”

  Carin laughed and the sound made Britt feel better. They would get through this—as a family.

  THE APARTMENT WAS VERY quiet after everyone had gone. She checked the kitchen, but Onnie had made sure it was spotless. Britt picked up Dillon’s toys and took a shower. It was too early to go to bed, so she decided to watch TV. It had been a while since she’d had any time to relax. She flipped through the channels and found nothing she liked. Curling up on the sofa, she promptly fell asleep.

  The doorbell woke her.

  She turned off the TV and stumbled toward the door, tying her robe tighter. Looking through the peephole, she was surprised to see Quinn again. Had something happened to Uncle Enzo? She quickly opened the door.

  “What happened? What’s wrong?”

  Quinn stepped in and closed the door. “I forgot to do something.”

  “What?” she asked, completely baffled.

  “This.” He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. His eyes twinkled into hers as he took her lips. With a moan she leaned into him, soaking up the scent of the outdoors, the cold and him. It enveloped her, and thoughts of stopping never entered her mind.

  As the kiss deepened, her arms slid up the sleeves of his coat to his neck. Her mouth opened, inviting him in to new discoveries, new heights of passion. The kiss went on until he trailed kisses from her mouth to her cheek, to her chin and to the warmth of her throat.

  She arched her neck as every need in her came alive. At that moment the cold hard truth hit her and she pushed away. He was Phil’s lawyer.

  She flipped back her tangled hair. “We shouldn’t do this.”

  “I know.” Quinn took a long breath and she saw the de sire in his hooded eyes, just as she’d seen before. She closed hers and blocked it out. Tell him to go. Tell him to go. But not one word left her mouth.

  Nor did he make a move to leave.

  “I can’t get you out of my head,” he said with a ragged sigh.

  “Me neither,” she admitted in a voice she didn’t recognize.

  He cupped her face with one hand and made circles on her cheek with his thumb. Coherent thoughts were impossible when he was touching her. Besides, she didn’t want to think. She just wanted to feel.

  She leaned her face into his palm, giving in to something stronger than herself. In that moment she knew she’d made a decision. He knew it, too.

  He swung her up in his arms and strolled into her bedroom, his warm, seductive lips taking hers in a slow, burning kiss that obliterated any lingering doubts. She slid from his embrace and pushed his coat from his shoulders.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, his eyes a sleepy dark blue.

  Nodding her head, she unbuttoned his shirt. When she touched his chest, he groaned, and in a matter of frenzied seconds their clothes were on the floor. He paused for a moment to stare at her, his eyes cloudy with need.

  “God, you’re so beautiful,” he said in a husky voice as he pulled her naked body to him. His hands were gentle, coaxing, as they touched her back, her bottom. Every hard muscle of his magnificent frame pressed into her. She gasped at the sheer gratification. Turning, they fell back ward onto the bed. He kissed her deeply and then his lips explored her breasts, her stomach and below.

  Wispy sighs of pleasure left her throat and she reached for him, her hands massaging his strong shoulders and traveling through the swirls of blond chest hairs arrowing down to his groin. When she touched his hardness, he let out a long breath and pulled her to him, pressing every muscle into her once again.

  Her senses throbbed, and they both knew they’d reached a point of no return. He took her lips and rolled her to her back. The kiss went on and on, and she opened her legs, needing more. With one sure thrust he was inside her. Her body accepted him gladly, willingly, as they joined in a primitive dance as old as time that bound them together closer than they had ever been.

  She cried his name as waves of pleasure convulsed through her. A moment later he gasped and shuddered against her in release. They lay still as their sweat-bathed bodies enjoyed the aftermath.

  Britt had made love before, but never like this, never with all her heart and all her body. Finally, Quinn rolled to the side and gathered her against him. She drifted into sleep with her head on his chest, feeling at peace for the first time in a long time.

  QUINN WATCHED HER SLEEP, brushing her dark hair from her face. He felt rejuvenated, alive. He now knew the difference between having sex and making love. The heart had to be involved totally and completely. From the moment he’d looked into her dark eyes he had probably known this day was coming. But he’d never dreamed it would be with this much intensity, this much emotion.

  He didn’t question the right or wrong of what had happened. Even though love words hadn’t been spoken, they were there in every kiss, every touch.

  Pulling her closer, he whispered, “I love you.” And knew the days ahead would be a test of that love.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Quinn worried how Britt was going to feel when she woke up, but he needn’t have. In the middle of the night she woke him with sweet kisses and they explored a new realm of lovemaking. Afterward they made turkey sandwiches. They were hungry from all the exercise.

  Later, they sat on the sofa in the darkened living room, completely naked, sipping wine and talking about her job with Harmon, and other, inane things. He’d never felt a connection to any other person like he did with Britt. It had been that way from the start.

  In the morning he reached for Britt, but she wasn’t there. Fear shot through him and he sat up, glancing around. He relaxed as he saw her in the bathroom, putting up her hair.

  Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, he saw it was after ten. What? He never slept this late, not even when working long hours on a trial.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  She applied lipstick. “To work.”

  “Oh.” He wanted to ask her to skip work, but he didn’t. Making her own way was important to her and he wouldn’t interfere with that. “What time do you get off?”

  She came out of the bathr
oom in tight jeans and a T-shirt that had Threadgill’s written on it, her dark hair neatly pinned back. Her skin glowed and a need uncurled inside him.

  “At six,” she replied, putting her lipstick in her purse. Glancing at him, she asked, “Will you be here when I get back?”

  “Do you want me to be?”

  Her eyes held his. “Yes.”

  He grinned. “Then I’ll be here.”

  She leaned over and kissed him. Holding her face, he deepened the kiss.

  “You’re not playing fair,” she whispered against his lips.

  He let her go with a disgruntled sound and she laughed. “You’re insatiable.”

  “For you.”

  They stared at each for a long moment, both knowing they’d crossed a line last night that neither could undo. And they were comfortable with that.

  BRITT LIVED IN A FAIRY TALE for three days. She rushed to work and then hurried home to be with Quinn. They made love and talked about their lives, sharing tidbits they hadn’t revealed before. It felt right, natural, for them to be together. Spending time with him eased the ache inside her and she didn’t miss Dillon so much.

  Quinn worked on the Morris case while she was at the restaurant, and she thought about her own case, but didn’t bring it up. Saturday night, though, after passionate, heated sex, Britt lay awake cradled in Quinn’s arms. Her eyes caught the crib—the empty crib. And tonight she couldn’t ignore it. When Quinn went to sleep, she slipped out and curled up in a chair.

  She was in love with a man who had taken her child. And he was still Phil’s attorney. Reality hit her. What was she doing? Once again she’d followed her heart without thinking. It could cost her more than she’d ever dreamed.

  Quinn stirred and reached for her in the bed. Realizing she wasn’t there, he sat up, brushing his hair from his forehead. The moon was bright, so he could see her sitting in the chair.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I saw the empty crib and…”

  “Britt…” He made to come to her, but she held out her hands to stop him.

  “No. I want to talk.”

  “Okay.” He eased back on the bed.

  She swallowed hard, saying the words she had to. “Please resign from the Rutherford case.”

  The silence in the room became deafening.

  “I can’t do that.”

  She felt a blow to her chest and had trouble breathing.

  “Britt, trust me.”

  “You keep saying that, but I don’t have my baby. He won’t be home for Christmas or his birthday. I’m all out of trust.”

  “Britt.” Quinn came toward her then, naked, the moonlight glistening off his long, lean body. But she held tight to her control. “I have other clients who depend on me, so I have to be careful how I handle the Rutherford situation. Trust me not to hurt you.”

  At the softness of his voice, she weakened. Her heart pulled her in one direction, her mind in the other. But Dillon had to be her top priority. She couldn’t think about herself. “No.” She got out of the chair and moved as far away from Quinn as she could. “I’m asking you again. If you feel anything for me, please resign from this case.”

  Their future hung between them. And it was all up to him.

  He ran his hands through his tousled hair. “I can’t. Just—”

  “Get out,” she shouted.

  “Let me explain,” he pleaded.

  “Not unless it ends with you quitting the Rutherford case.”

  Grabbing his jeans, he slipped into them. Within a minute he was dressed, and strolled from the room.

  When she heard the click of the front door, she curled up in the bed, her arms around Quinn’s pillow, and cried loudly, the sobs coming from deep in her heart. She had gambled and lost. He didn’t love her enough to give up his career. And she was aware that’s what it came down to. The Rutherfords would ruin Quinn if he resigned. Just like they had ruined her life. Now she had to wonder how far they would go to take her child permanently.

  And if Quinn would do their bidding.

  QUINN STOOD OUTSIDE BRITT’S door, feeling pain like he’d never felt before. He’d hurt her and that was the last thing he’d wanted to do. Time was all he needed. Why couldn’t she give him time?

  Because her child’s future was involved. He understood that. But he wanted her to trust him—trust him not to hurt her or Dillon. He could go back in there and force her to listen to him, but what would that accomplish? He couldn’t give her any guarantees, and that’s what she wanted. A guarantee for a future with her son.

  And with him.

  “Goodbye.” He lightly touched her door before walking away.

  QUINN THREW HIMSELF INTO the Morris case and tried to keep memories of Britt at bay. The jury was seated on the first day and they went to trial. He portrayed Kathy Morris as a woman who lived in fear. She’d suffered physical and mental abuse from her husband for years, but when he started beating the kids she’d snapped. She’d feared for her children’s lives.

  Through three days of grueling testimonies and cross-examinations, Quinn hung in there, trying to convince the jury that Kathy Morris did not belong in jail. The jury was finally sequestered, and Quinn waited. On Friday the verdict came in.

  The jury was deadlocked.

  The judge asked them to go back and see if they could reach a verdict. The foreman said it was useless. None of them were budging on their decision. Quinn was relieved. The state would now plea-bargain with him to avoid another trial. Kathy Morris would get the help she needed and she’d be home for Christmas with her kids.

  Quinn had fought hard for the Morris case, with Britt and Dillon at the back of his mind. Why couldn’t Britt trust him to do the same for her?

  He returned to his office amid congratulations from his staff. Denise, however, kept rolling her eyes and nodding to ward his door.

  Shaking off her strange behavior, he strolled toward his office. The door was slightly ajar. He pushed it opened and stopped short.

  Philip Sr. was sitting in a leather chair across from Quinn’s desk.

  Showdown!

  Quinn shook the man’s hand. Of medium height, Philip was dressed in a tailored suit, with his styled silver hair perfectly in place, as always. He was slick, suave and cunning. Quinn had to be on his toes.

  “Congratulations,” Philip said. “I believe you could get a cold-blooded murderer off.”

  “I wouldn’t represent a cold-blooded murderer,” Quinn replied, sliding into his chair.

  “High ethics.” Philip resumed his seat. “I admire that.”

  Quinn didn’t feel that required an answer, so he waited for the proverbial shoe to drop. And felt it was coming with the force of a Peterbilt truck.

  “I’m in town catching up on some details at my firm.” Philip formed a steeple with his fingers. “And I wanted to touch base with you on Phil’s case.”

  “What about it?” he asked in his best courtroom voice.

  Philip glanced at Quinn over the tips of his fingers. “I want you to go after Ms. Davis. I want that child to stay with Phil—permanently.”

  Quinn leaned back, his hands resting on the arms of his chair. “On what grounds?”

  “Wallis sent you plenty of grounds.”

  Quinn reached for the Rutherford folder on his desk and pulled out the photos Levi had blown up. “Are you talking about these?”

  “Yes. She trashed his condo. She has a bad temper. Not to mention that she sleeps around. She’s not fit to be a mother.”

  Quinn’s jaw clenched. “I don’t use evidence that other people have collected. I do my own investigation.” He point ed to one photo. “In this one, food items are strewn on the floor. Nothing else is disturbed. I investigated further and found the groceries were what Ms. Davis bought to celebrate with Phil on the news of her pregnancy, and to tell him she was quitting her job. She dropped the bag when she found Phil in bed with another woman, doing drugs.”

  Philip rose to hi
s feet in a slow, sure movement. “My son does not do drugs. If that bitch told you that, she’s lying.”

  “Are you positive?” Quinn asked, his eyes never wavering from the older man’s lethal gaze.

  “How dare you question me.”

  Quinn stood, the tension in the room a tangible thing he could feel down to his bones. This was where he was supposed to fold like a frightened intern. He did just the opposite, and it wasn’t as hard as he’d thought it would be. “I’m not arguing a case on fabricated evidence, and that’s all Wallis has. No temper. No affairs. It’s all false.”

  Philip’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think you know who you’re talking to.”

  Quinn stared straight at the man he had once thought could walk on water. “Yes, sir, I do, and my advice is to leave that child with his mother.”

  Philip slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks with a sly grin. “That wouldn’t be because you have a connection to Ms. Davis?”

  Quinn tensed, but made certain nothing showed on his face.

  “You see, I know you and Ms. Davis were rescued together from the Brushy Creek flooding.”

  “Is that why Wallis suddenly became ill and I got the call?”

  “Thought it would be a nice touch for Ms. Davis.” The chill in Philip’s eyes got a few degrees colder as he pulled some snapshots from his pocket and laid them on the desk. Photos of Quinn and Britt kissing at her front door….

  Son of a bitch!

  “I’m always in control. Remember that.”

  Quinn raised his eyes to the older man’s. “I never forget it.”

  “Good. We’re clear then. File for permanent custody on new grounds.”

  Quinn took a sharp breath. “I told you I’m not arguing a case on fabricated evidence.”

  “Excuse me?” Philip bristled at his audacity.

  “You heard me.”

  “You just signed your death warrant as a lawyer. I’ll have you disbarred, and you’ll never work again in this state or in this country. I hope she’s worth it.” He walked to the door. With his hand on the knob, Philip looked back. “I’ll send a courier for all the files and anything else you have on the case. You’re no longer the lawyer of record.”