by Lori Wilde
“I see,” she said at last. Quint noticed her hands were shaking. “I’m sorry you feel that way and I’m sorry you felt the need to try and correct me. Your methods were not only hurtful, but they were criminal, as well. You can be expecting a call from my lawyers.” With that, she hung up.
Taylor clenched her jaw and took a second to compose herself. “It was him.” She pressed her lips together, glanced up at the ceiling before continuing. “The man was a general in the U.S. Air Force and he crept around like a passive-aggressive sneak thief to undermine everything I’ve tried to build.”
“Come on,” Dougal said, moving across the room to put his arm around her shoulders. “You need to call Daniel. He’ll want to catch the next plane out to be with you.”
Taylor shook her head. “No, I’m going home to him.”
“I’ll escort you.”
“What do I do with him?” Quint nodded at Joe.
“Leave him to me,” Dougal said. “You can go pack your things. Your assignment is over with this tour. You’ve worked hard. Take a couple of weeks off.”
“You sure?” Quint asked, but even as he was asking, he was thinking of Jorgie. He couldn’t wait to see her again, make sure she was really okay.
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Quint,” Taylor said. “Well done.”
Quint nodded and left the room, feeling awful for her and grateful he didn’t have to deal with the details. He hurried down the corridor and through the lobby, bent on getting to Jorgie.
16
Always leave him wanting more
—Make Love Like a Courtesan
FIVE MINUTES LATER, Quint knocked on Jorgie’s door.
She answered, tipping him a slight smile from behind the half-opened door. He recognized the coy courtesan smirk she’d perfected in her class. One look at her and he felt all out of whack, as if he might be coming down with the flu or something.“Hi,” he said.
“Hi, yourself.”
“We need to talk.”
“Oh.” She pulled a teasing face. “That sounds serious.”
“It is.”
“You’re serious.” Her grin faded. “Seriously?”
He rested his arm on the door frame, leaned in toward her. “Can I come in?”
“The place is still a mess from being ransacked.”
“I don’t care.”
She stepped aside and let him in. He walked into the middle of the room, stopped and turned back to look at her.
The woman was a vision. To Quint she was gorgeous, and all he wanted to do was touch her. But he couldn’t. Not yet.
“Have a seat.” She pointed to the chair beside the bed.
He sat. She had a suitcase opened and it was half-filled with clothes. “You’re packing.”
“We fly home tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, yeah. Right.”
“I thought that was why you’d come,” she said. “To say goodbye.”
“I came to tell you I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
“Oh?” She tried to look nonchalant but he could see worry in her eyes. Jorgie was a worrier at heart, no matter how much she might pretend otherwise. “How’s that?”
“I’m not really Casanova.”
“You’ve got all his moves down pat.”
“That’s not what I mean.” He noticed she stayed halfway across the room, as if she didn’t trust herself around him.
“I’m listening.” She crossed her arms over her chest, hunched her shoulders, drawing herself in like a clam. She was afraid of getting hurt. He couldn’t blame her. He was scared of this thing, too.
“I’m a private duty air marshal.”
She laughed.
“What’s so funny?” He frowned.
“Private duty air marshal…right.”
“Why do you find that so hard to believe?”
She studied him. “You mean it?”
He stood up, pulled his wallet from his back pocket, took out his credentials, passed them to her.
She looked at them, her eyes widening, her mouth opening. “For real?”
“For real.” Then he explained to her what he was doing at Eros and why he was posing as an instructor for the Casanova course. He told her about the man who’d ransacked her room and how they’d caught him. How he’d confessed to stealing their boat and leaving them stranded on the island.
She said nothing after he finished, just sat down on the edge of the bed, arms still crossed over her chest, still shutting him out. “That’s terrible. That’s got to be such a shock for Taylor. Finding out the man she trusted would betray her like that.”
“She’s tough and she’s got a lot of good friends. She’ll survive.”
Jorgie took a deep breath, rubbed her palms along her upper thighs. She was wearing black workout pants and they clung snugly to her curvy thighs and he couldn’t help staring. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“Because I wanted to be honest with you. I couldn’t tell you before because of my job, but still, I wanted you to know.”
“You didn’t need to do that. I’ll be gone tomorrow and we’ll probably never see each other again.”
It was a startling declaration for him. The thought of never seeing her again. She watched him as if he were the saddest movie she’d ever seen.
“I want us to date.”
She shook her head.
“No?” Why was his throat constricting so tightly?
“I don’t think that would be a very good idea.” She stood up, picked up a pair of slacks that were lying on the bed. She folded them up, tucked them in the suitcase.
He suddenly felt panicky. Like he had in college when he’d overslept after partying too hard and missed his math final his senior year. He’d been terrified his professor wasn’t going to let him take a make-up exam, but he’d given her the patented Mason grin and she’d relented. He tried it now with Jorgie. “Let’s talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I knew when I made love with you I’d already lost you. You’re only fascinated with me because I’m telling you goodbye.”
“That’s not true,” he protested. Was it? No one had ever dumped him before. Either the partings had been mutual, or he’d been the one to break off the relationship, usually just before things started to turn serious.
“Honestly, a relationship with you would be too exhausting. Playing games is fun, but at some point you have to put the fantasies aside and get on with real life. You’ve never left the playground, Quint. And that’s okay. It’s who you are. I accept it. That’s why I’m saying goodbye.”
She spoke lightly, matter-of-factly, but he heard the resentment and sheepishness hidden underneath. It hurt to think he’d caused her to feel this way.
He rubbed his jaw. “Jorgie, I’m sorry. I never—”
“Don’t apologize,” she said brusquely. “That’s like a zebra apologizing for being striped. I knew what I was getting into. This is my fault.”
“It’s no one’s fault. There’s nothing wrong.”
She shot him a look that withered his soul. “The fact that you think nothing is wrong is precisely what is wrong.”
“Jorgie.” He said her name softly, gave her his most effective coaxing grin. “I want to continue this relationship.”
But she wasn’t listening. She was stuffing clothes—panties, bras, socks, blouses—in the suitcase. He felt invisible.
“Jorgie…” He was wheedling now, trying to negotiate a peace treaty. He moved toward her, hand outstretched.
She dropped the shirt she was holding and shook a finger at him. “No, just no. You stop right there.”
He ignored her command, closed the distance between them and grabbed her wrist. She snapped her hand away. “Dammit, Quint, I told you not to touch me. Please, just don’t touch—” Suddenly, her eyes flooded with tears. “Let me go.”
“No,” he said firmly. “I have to fix this. I won’t let you slip through my fingers.”
“Look, this was all wrong from the start. I thought I wanted casual sex, but in my heart I knew I wasn’t the kind of woman who could take intimacy lightly. I listened to my friend Avery and I listened to my hormones and I listened to Maggie Cantrell telling me how to be a courtesan, but I didn’t listen to my gut that was telling me not to sleep with you and now I have to pay the price. But it’s my price to pay.”
Desperation knotted up tight against his chest. No. He wasn’t going to accept this. In a swift sweep of emotions, he knew if he never saw her again, there would forever be a hole in his life. Hell, could he even call it a life if he never got to hold her again, kiss her, make love to her—talk to her.
“There has to be a way we can make this right.”
“Casanova never changed.”
“What?” He blinked.
“Casanova spent his whole life chasing the thrill of romantic love. He went through crush after crush, infatuation after infatuation, but in the end he was disappointed by all his relationships.”
“Not his relationship with Lady Evangeline.”
“That’s because she never gave in to him. They never had sex. They didn’t end up together, Quint.”
He fisted his hands, swallowed hard. He could feel himself losing her. “I’m not Casanova.”
“Aren’t you?”
“No.”
“Flitting from one relationship to the other, avoiding commitment.”
“I wasn’t avoiding commitment.”
“Then what do you call it?”
“Waiting.” He leveled a gaze at her.
“Waiting?”
“For the right one to finally come along.”
She laughed, but it was a tight, mirthless sound of skepticism. “How many women have you said that to?”
Quint took her by the shoulders, he didn’t care if she didn’t want him to touch her or not, and he stared at her, hard. “None. Zero. You’re the only one.”
“You only want me because I’m walking away from you,” she reiterated.
“That’s not true.”
“It’s okay, Quint. You’ll survive.” She wrenched her shoulders from his grasp. “I’m sure any number of women at this villa would be happy to take my place at a moment’s notice.”
“I don’t want them. I want you.”
She stalked toward the door, opened it, stood to one side, her eyes begging him to leave. “You can’t always get what you want.”
He went to her, took the door from her hand, shut it. “Jorgie, please, reconsider.”
She closed her eyes, then took a long, deep breath. He saw that her hand was trembling. Then she opened her eyes and a look of abject sorrow and remorse and utter confusion flashed. Her fragile vulnerability knifed him in the gut. Without ever intending it, he’d cut her to the quick.
“Jorgie,” he whispered and pressed his back against the door. He reached out to stroke his index finger against her cheek. She didn’t shy away, but lowered her lashes, closing him out again. “Do you mean to say that when we get home if I were to come to your house with a bouquet of purple orchids and an invitation to go dancing that you would turn me down?”
She glanced up and he saw tears shimmer in the greeny-brown depths of her hazel eyes. “You know I wouldn’t possess the courage to turn you away. Not when you’re wearing that charming smile and saying sweet things like you’re saying right now.”
“See there,” he murmured, “see there.”
“All I see is a woman too bowled over by a handsome man to get out while she had some shred of dignity intact.” She pushed her hair back from her face with both hands. “Will you just go?”
“Jorgie, please. We can work through this. I know there’s a solution.”
“Yes, you go your way and I go mine and we simply enjoy what we had and tuck it away as nothing more than a sweet memory.”
“I want more and I think you do, too.”
“There can’t be more. You’re an undercover air marshal for a sexy resort. Women come on to you all the time. Are you suddenly going to turn into a good boy who toes the line because he’s got a woman waiting for him at home?”
“For you, I think I could.”
“It’s not good enough,” she said. “I’m tired of settling for half-assed relationships. I want a man who adores the ground I walk on. You can’t help it if that’s not you. Now, please, just go.”
He couldn’t swallow past the lump clogging his throat.
She stood there, not saying another word, and for one small second his heart surged with hope. Maybe she was reconsidering?
“I’m such an idiot,” she whispered.
He wanted so badly to touch her, but her expression warned him off. “No, no, you’re not.”
“I told myself I could do this, Quint. That I could play games and have fun and keep my heart out of it. I kept telling myself what I was feeling was nothing more than a good time with an old friend and you were like a soothing balm on a raw wound. I knew this relationship was for two weeks and nothing more.” She paused, hitched in a breath, swiped at the tears trickling down her face. “I thought I’d managed to avoid falling in love with you, but I was fooling myself. You’re just like Casanova, incapable of really loving anyone who loves you.”
Then she snapped her jaw closed, grabbed the doorknob and opened it. “I would appreciate it if you’d leave now.”
He stepped out into the hallway and she shut the door quietly behind him. Quint stood silently, cut to the bone by her comment and seared by the swell of his own shame. Her words rang in his ears.
You’re just like Casanova, incapable of really loving anyone who loves you. And then the other thing she’d said, that thing that choked his throat and squeezed his heart. I thought I’d managed to avoid falling in love with you, but I was fooling myself.
Was it true? Was Jorgie in love with him?
How could a woman like her be in love with a guy like him? Jorgie should have a true feast, not a beggar’s banquet. A guy with money, clout and stability who could give her all the things she deserved—a home, kids, the whole white-picket-fence thing—not some footloose guy who knew how to make her have orgasms but didn’t have a clue how to meet her emotional needs.
Dazed, Quint walked down the corridor, shoving a hand through his hair. How had this happened? The last thing on earth he’d ever meant to do was hurt Jorgie. The thought of it sliced his soul. He’d partied his way through life thinking that if he embraced good times, had fun, he could avoid pain. And now this woman had shown him how wrong he’d been about himself, about life.
And that’s when he knew he’d fallen in love with her, too.
17
Something Sexy in the Air
—Eros Airlines
NOT KNOWING what else to do, Quint went back to his room. He’d never felt like this before and he didn’t know how to handle it. He’d just started to pace, trying to come up with some kind of plan to win Jorgie over, when a knock sounded at his door.
Could it be her? He quickly opened the door only to have his hopes dashed to see his boss standing there.“May I come in?” Dougal asked.
“Sure, sure.” Quint stepped aside and ushered him in.
“You okay?” Dougal narrowed his eyes at him. “You look…” He paused, studied him. “Shook up. This thing with Taylor and General Miller got you upset?”
“It is troubling,” Quint hedged. He wasn’t ready to confess to his boss that he’d violated the morality clause in his contract with Eros. “I still can’t believe he would be behind all the sabotage.”
“Disturbing,” Dougal agreed. “I’ve called our men at the other resorts and notified law enforcement in those countries about the people Miller hired to do his dirty work. They’ll be forced to face what they did.”
“What about Joe Vincent?”
“Taylor promised him she wouldn’t prosecute, so we let him go.”
“And Miller?”
Dougal shook his head, sank down
in the chair at the desk, leaned back. “That’s between him and Taylor. Our job is done.”
“The general must have had a serious conflict of values with Taylor over what direction she should take her father’s airline. You’d think he could have simply told her how he felt.”
“It was more than that. He was on the board of directors and Taylor believes he’s been embezzling from her, as well. She’s got her legal team looking into it. Apparently, he was using the sabotage as a dodge, keep her attention elsewhere while he funneled money to an account in the Caymans.”
“Ah, money and greed. How often does the motive come down to that?”
“So,” Dougal said, “you’re freed from Casanova.”
“No more puff-sleeved shirts.”
“Amen to that.”
“You get to go home to Roxie,” Quint said.
“I can’t wait to see her. From now on I’m sticking to running the office. Let you single guys take to the air.” When Dougal talked about his fiancée, he looked so happy.
Quint felt jealous. “You sure you won’t miss it?”
“Been there, done that, have much better things to do now. Are you all right? You look down. I’ve never seen you looking so hangdog. Did something happen with that woman you used as your plant? Your childhood friend, was it?”
“Yeah, that was the damndest thing.” Quint experienced it again. That hot tightening in the vicinity of his heart when he thought about Jorgie.
“What’s that?”
“I fell in love.” Saying it out loud, saying it to another human being, made it real.
Dead silence fell in the room. Dougal blinked at him, then grinned. “For a minute there, I thought you said you fell in love.”
“I did.”
“You gotta be kidding. You? In love?”
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
“You’ve always scoffed at marriage. At even living with a woman. You pride yourself on being footloose and fancy-free. Hell, you’ve never had a relationship that lasted longer than a few months.”
Quint sat down hard on the end of the bed. “What can I say? I was blind, but now I see. Trouble is, she doesn’t believe me. She sees me as Casanova. She won’t give me a chance to prove myself to her.”