The last few days he’d shown her a different side of himself, which only confused her more. It had been much easier hating him when he’d been cold and pushing her away, much easier to justify not telling him about the baby.
The buzzing of her doorbell jolted her from her thoughts and she glanced down at her watch. He’s early. Her stomach flipped. She was supposed to have thirty more minutes to prepare herself. Taking a deep breath, she pinched her cheeks and ran her fingers through her hair as she headed for the front door. Not bothering to look through the peephole, she pulled back the door and pasted a smile on her face.
“Hi... Mom?”
“Expecting someone else?” Marcia Sawyer leaned forward and pecked her on the cheek. “What are you all dressed up for? You going on a date or something?”
“I’m not all dressed up,” she countered, now second-guessing her chosen attire of black trousers and a smart pink shirt. “And I’m definitely not going on a date.” What did her mom think of her? If she were going on a date, she’d wear something a lot sexier. Not that she’d been on an actual date for eons; Callum had been far too busy working in the last six months—since his dad died—for any such frivolity.
“Pity.” Marcia’s face fell as she stepped inside. “It’s time you put yourself back out there. Lord knows Callum didn’t let the grass grow.” This was the closest her mom had ever come to a mean word about Bailey’s ex-fiancé—the hardworking, responsible eldest McKinnel.
She chose to ignore it. “What can I do for you, Mom?”
“Isn’t a mother allowed to check in on her daughter? You’ve barely seen or talked to me in weeks.”
Bailey couldn’t deny she’d been keeping a low profile where her family was concerned, but this was especially true when it came to her mother, who had a sixth sense about certain things. She was terrified her mom would take one look at her and know something was up. In one way it would be nice to be able to confide in her about the baby, but the fact she and Quinn’s mom were best friends made this impossible. Marcia found keeping secrets hard at the best of times, and Bailey couldn’t risk him finding out through the grapevine.
“Sorry, I’ve been very busy with work. And I’m really trying to get my own event business off the ground. In fact, that’s what I’m doing tonight. I have a client coming soon.”
“Oh, wonderful,” Marcia said, looking past her to the table laden with craft supplies. “Anyone I know?”
Bailey opened her mouth to lie, but her mom would be able to see right through her. Better to stick to the truth, even if not the whole truth.
“Quinn McKinnel.” She nodded, working hard to sound normal as she said his name. “You have to promise not to say anything to Nora, but he’s throwing a surprise party for her birthday.”
“Quinn’s organizing a party?” Marcia snorted in a most unladylike manner. “I thought he just attended them.”
Bailey fought the urge to defend Quinn. He might not be the most dependable person on the planet, but he was the father of her baby nevertheless, and he managed the distillery warehouse, did he not? “That’s not a very nice thing to say about your best friend’s son.”
Marcia shook her head and grinned. “You know I adore Quinn. Who doesn’t love him? It’s just...” Her voice drifted off, but Bailey knew what her mom was thinking. He seemed to lack the ambition and drive of his siblings, and if his dating record was any indication, the word commitment didn’t feature in his vocabulary.
“Well, he might just surprise you. He’s being very involved and hands-on with the planning of this party. He wants to make it extra special for Nora. He’s coming over to help me make the invitations.”
“Really?” Her mother still sounded skeptical. “Maybe I should stick around and help you.”
On the one hand, this could be a good idea—having her mom in the room would surely douse any crazy notions her body got about Quinn—but there was that sixth sense to worry about.
“Thanks, but we’ve got this covered. Sorry I’ve been so snowed under with work. Maybe we can go for lunch or something soon.” Like, in a few months when I’ve worked out what the hell is going on in my life. With these words, Bailey placed her hands on her mom’s shoulders and swiveled her around to usher her back out.
And then the doorbell buzzed again. Bailey’s stomach tumble-turned at the knowledge that this time it likely would be Quinn. She stared at the back of the door.
“Well?” Marcia raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to open it?”
“Oh, right.” Bailey stumbled forward, grabbed the door handle and yanked it open to find Quinn standing on the other side, holding flowers and a bottle of wine.
I can’t drink wine was her first thought, closely followed by Flowers and wine? What does this mean?
“Hello, Quinn,” she heard her mom say, suspicion ringing loud and clear in her words. This did not bode well.
“Flowers.” Quinn held them out to Bailey, then glanced to Marcia and back again. “To say thank you for taking on Mom’s party. And wine because you might need it after a few hours crafting with me.”
Her mom laughed and stepped aside to let Quinn in.
“Nice to see you again, Marcia. Did Bailey tell you about the party?” he asked, kissing her mom on the cheek.
She blushed ridiculously and giggled like a schoolgirl. It appeared no woman was immune to his charms, no matter their age or professed opinion. “Yes. She did. I think it’s a splendid idea. Nora deserves to be spoiled. She’s had a hard year, losing Conall so suddenly.”
At the mention of his father, Quinn’s smile faded and his eyes flashed to the floor, but he looked up again almost immediately. “She’s lucky she has good friends like you.” He was all charm and smiles again, and Bailey wondered if she’d imagined his brief show of emotion. Callum had thrown himself into work to deal with the pain of losing his father, but what had Quinn done? Had he talked to anyone about his loss?
Marcia opened her mouth, but before she could launch into some story about some craziness she and Nora had gotten up to in their youth, Bailey grabbed her arm. “Anyway, Mom was just going,” she said, tugging her mother toward the front door. “And we’d better get to work before it gets too late.”
She gestured into the dining room, indicating for Quinn to head that way. He and her mom exchanged goodbyes, and then Bailey all but shoved her mom out the door before she could say another word. She guessed she’d be hearing from her again first thing in the morning with a warning to watch herself with Quinn.
Too late, Mom, she thought as she turned to face the man in question. I’m already in over my head.
Quinn hit her with an enticing smile as he held up the wine bottle. “Shall I get us a couple of glasses?”
She stared at the bottle as if it were poison; tiny beads of perspiration exploded on her forehead. “We’re supposed to be working,” she stammered.
“Who says we can’t have fun while we work?” he countered.
She swallowed. My doctor. But right now she would kill for a glass. She had to think quickly. “After all the overindulging during Thanksgiving and Christmas I thought it was time for a detox, but feel free to have a drink without me.”
He gave her a slow once-over, and as his gaze skimmed her body, her internal temperature sky-rocketed. “You don’t look to me like you need to detox at all, but whatever floats your boat. I’m not big on drinking alone, so why not save it for another time.” He paused a moment, then added, “Maybe when you have something to celebrate.”
Like a baby? squeaked a voice inside her. “Okay, thanks.” She feigned nonchalance when, inside, her heart flapped about like a bird on steroids. “I’m just going to go put these flowers in a vase.”
Which was actually code for I’m just going to go into the kitchen and freak out a little about anything and everything. Bei
ng in a café—in a public place—with Quinn had been one thing, but now that they were completely alone, all she could think about was the sex they’d had and his horrible treatment of her following. Oh-so-hot, followed by oh-so-cold.
“Okay. Go for it.” He grinned again and sat down at the table. “I’ll get started here.”
How could he sit there as if nothing had happened between them? It was like he’d blacked out their shared torrid history. Well, he wouldn’t be able to ignore it once she told him about the baby.
With that thought, Bailey turned and fled into the kitchen. She located a vase on autopilot, filled it with water and all but dumped the flowers in. When was the last time someone had brought her flowers? Had to have been Callum in the early days of their relationship. And what the heck was Quinn doing bringing her some? Was this some kind of peace offering? She wasn’t sure she bought his excuse about them being a thank-you gift. And had she imagined the heat in his eyes when he’d said she didn’t need detox?
Her head spun with confusion as she stared at the flowers, like maybe they carried the answers to all her questions.
“You okay in there?” came Quinn’s delicious voice.
“Yes,” she called back, then grabbed a glass, filled it with water and downed its entire contents. If only she weren’t pregnant, she could have something stronger to get her through spending time with Quinn. Then again, if she weren’t pregnant, she probably wouldn’t be in such a flap about it. She took another deep breath, summoned her most professional smile and went out to join him.
“Right,” she said as she came up to the table. “Oh, you’ve already started.”
“Thought I may as well.” He shrugged as she looked down at the black card he’d already started cutting in half. The plan was for them to layer a silver foil over the top and then print the information in bold black font on a clear special paper that would sit over the foil. She’d made up an example last night and had already done the printing. Their task was to put it all together and add the tiny records and other decorative pieces they’d bought. “I hope I’m doing it alright.”
“You’re doing it perfectly.” Keeping a safe distance, she pulled out a seat across from him and sat.
“Thanks for giving up an evening to do this with me,” Quinn said, looking over at her. He had the most beautiful eyes, but she tried to focus on his words instead.
“It’s my pleasure. I want this to be perfect for your mom.”
“Thanks to you, it will be. What else is going on in your life right now?”
He asked the question so casually, but Bailey couldn’t think of an answer. One word—pregnant—rang loud and clear in her head. “Work is pretty busy at the hotel. Although we don’t have many functions in the months after Christmas, we’re planning for all the spring and summer events.”
“Does your boss know about your plans to do some freelance work?”
Bailey nodded, relaxing a little; she could talk about work till the cows came home. “Yes. She thinks there’s lots of potential for business in Jewell Rock. Bend is such an established tourist town now, that some people are wanting something a little less chaotic for their special days.”
“Callum is hoping that’s the case,” Quinn said as he carefully sliced another piece of black card in half.
Bailey found herself watching his hands while he worked, remembering how they’d felt on her body. His thumb scraping over her nipple, his tongue sliding down her stomach, his...
“Sorry, you probably don’t want me talking about Callum,” he said, snapping her out of her erotic fantasy.
She almost asked, “Who?” Her engagement to his brother felt like a lifetime ago. “It’s okay. I probably should feel awkward and upset talking about him, but I don’t. That was the major problem between us. Neither of us felt enough to care about breaking up. We should have done it long ago. Your brother is a great guy, but he wasn’t the one for me and I wasn’t the girl for him.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
What the heck did that mean? Bailey swallowed. “I’ll find the right guy one day, but I’m holding out for something real, something magic. I want a relationship like Mom has, one like your parents had. They were always so sweet together.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” Quinn said and then cursed as he made a mistake with the blade, cutting the card unevenly for the first time.
“What do you mean?” He couldn’t possibly be insinuating that Nora and Conall McKinnel weren’t a match made in heaven. You’d have to have been blind not to see the spark between those two, even after over thirty years of marriage, raising seven children and running a successful business.
“Forget it.” He shoved his thumb into his mouth.
“Oh, God. Are you hurt?” She instinctively leaned closer and reached out her hand.
He winced and withdrew his thumb. It was a clean cut, but blood dripped steadily out. “I’ll probably live, but have you got any bandages?” he asked, with a rueful smile.
She chuckled. “If you didn’t want to do the work, you only had to say. Cutting yourself was a little dramatic. Come on.” She stood and nodded toward the bathroom. “Let’s go get you all fixed up.”
* * *
Quinn silently cursed as he followed Bailey into her tiny bathroom. He couldn’t believe what he’d almost let slip about his parents. For his mom’s sake, that was a secret he planned on taking to the grave, and until tonight, he’d never been tempted to confess it to anyone.
“Rinse your hand under some water,” she instructed as she bent down to search through the cupboard under her sink, giving him a perfect view of her even more perfect behind.
Good God! He sucked in a breath, immediately forgetting about his parents, and barely even registering the pain throbbing through his thumb.
“Quinn,” she said, straightening again a few moments later, with a tiny first aid kit in her hands. “Water!”
“Right.” He stepped forward, wrenched on the tap and shoved his bleeding thumb under it. “Anyone ever tell you you’re bossy?”
She bit her lip, closed her eyes briefly and then conjured some antiseptic from her little medical kit. “Please turn off the water and then dry your hand.” She gestured to a white hand towel on the rail. “It’s clean.”
He kept his hand over the sink. “It won’t be if I dry myself on it. You got an old one or something?”
She yanked the towel off the rail. “That would defeat the purpose,” she said as she reached out, took hold of his hand, wrapped the towel around it and held on firmly.
Her fingers against his skin were better than any painkillers and she stood so close he could smell the berry-scented shampoo she must use to wash her hair. He breathed in deeply, unable to think of a sweeter, more alluring scent. As she held the towel around his hand, their gazes met and Quinn wanted to kiss her more than anything. His head might harbor a grudge against Bailey, but his body didn’t give two hoots if she was keeping secrets from him. Her tongue darted out to lick her lip and he could tell her thoughts were identical to his. No matter how much she might want to resist him, they were two adults crazy attracted to each other and about to become eternally linked through their baby.
Since learning about her pregnancy last Friday, he’d given her so many opportunities to come clean. He’d shown her his love of babies, picked up a rubber ducky thing at the stationery shop, bought her wine—and she hadn’t taken the bait. Maybe upping the ante by kissing her was exactly what he needed to do.
As if Bailey could read his mind, her grip loosened on the towel and she stepped back, but Quinn wrapped his good hand around hers and yanked her close against him before she could retreat. The tube of antiseptic cream slipped from her grasp as her breasts pressed against his chest and her eyes widened. But he knew desire when he saw it, and his was reflected in her eyes. It
added fuel to his already burning fire.
He stooped his head and fused his mouth to hers. He meant it to be just a gentle taste of what could be between them, but the moment their lips touched, memories of their one night of heated passion ambushed him. They were right back there in the deserted warehouse, Bailey perched on a whiskey barrel, her legs wrapped around him as he thrust into her. His head buried between her naked breasts. Nothing had ever been more erotic, and in the urgency of coming together, neither of them had given a thought to the possibility of someone stumbling upon them.
It was an image he’d been trying (and failing) to get out of his head since.
After the event he’d wondered if the illicit nature of the act had heightened the experience, but if the way his body reacted to the taste of her lips now was any indication, that wasn’t the case. And the best thing was, she kissed him back. As he moved his hands to cup her face, as his tongue deepened the kiss, taking everything from her, she snaked her hands around his back and gripped him as if she never wanted to let go. Her breathing quickened and it was the most beautiful sound in the world. This was the most beautiful thing in the world.
He’d kissed his fair share of girls in his time, but those kisses felt like pale imitations when he compared them to this. This felt real and the intensity of his feelings surprised him.
He wanted to claim this woman. He wanted to brand her!
Then Bailey moved her hands around the front and he grinned as he anticipated her ripping his T-shirt up and over his head. The invitations could wait—he’d only suggested handcrafting them so he could spend more time with her, anyway—getting naked trumped everything.
But, instead, she tore her lips from his as she palmed her hands against his chest and pushed hard. He stumbled back and bumped into the hard corner of the vanity.
“What the hell was that?” she asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand in apparent distaste. Yet, although she sounded pissed, he got the feeling she was more annoyed at herself than at him. The flush in her cheeks and the way she didn’t meet his gaze told him everything he needed to know.
Pregnant by Mr. Wrong Page 6