by Radclyffe
Honor turned her head and met Quinn’s eyes for long seconds before glancing back at the road. “She put her hands on what was mine. I don’t tolerate that from anyone.”
The lethal conviction in Honor’s voice made Quinn’s stomach tighten. There’d never been anyone who had claimed her, or even anyone who had wanted to. It wasn’t anything she’d ever considered needing or desiring. The intensity in Honor’s voice changed her mind. There was something incredibly erotic about imagining a woman possessing her that way. Not just a woman. Honor.
“Sorry. I didn’t intend to bring up old business.” Honor tried to lighten her tone. Talking about Terry with Quinn was becoming so easy that she hadn’t even considered that Quinn might not want to hear about her past.
“That’s okay,” Quinn said quietly. “I’m surprised you let her live.”
Honor flashed her a grin. “If there’s ever a next time, I won’t.”
Quinn’s heart flipped, but she told herself that Honor was just joking—not really paying attention to what she was saying. That had to be the case, since Honor had made it very clear just a few days before that another serious relationship was not in her future.
“I’m right over here,” Quinn said, pointing to a cream-colored house with ornate Victorian cornices and maroon detailing.
“I remember.” Honor pulled to the curb, cut the ignition, and turned in her seat. “It meant a lot to me to talk to you the other night, Quinn. I just want you to know that.”
“You never need to worry about discussing Terry with me. Or anything else.” Fleetingly, Quinn touched Honor’s thigh, then drew her hand away. She unclipped her seat belt, opened her door, and slid one leg onto the sidewalk. As she eased out, she turned and looked back inside, meeting Honor’s eyes. “You coming in?”
Through a throat tight with emotions that she didn’t dare examine too closely, Honor whispered, “Yes.”
Chapter Eighteen
Once inside her apartment, Quinn hastily cleared a spot on the sofa and gestured to Honor to sit. “Can I get you something to drink? Soda or orange juice?”
Smiling, Honor shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”
“Okay.” Quinn backed up a few steps, barely able to believe that Honor was sitting in her living room. Such as it is. She grinned foolishly. “So...uh...what should I wear?”
Honor frowned. “Wear?”
“You know. Clothes? Where are we going for dinner?”
For the first time, Honor realized that this was coming very close to a date. It hadn’t been what she’d intended. But she couldn’t deny that the prospect of spending a few hours alone with Quinn, away from work, out of the house, without friends or family in attendance, was exciting. Immediately, she thought of the small neighborhood restaurant that was actually one of the best-kept secrets in the area. There were only eight tables, very elegant in an understated way, with excellent food and friendly service. And the best thing about it was that despite the intimate decor and a fine menu, the atmosphere was still casual. She was wearing the slacks and silk tee that she’d worked in. “Whatever the next step up from jeans is for you.”
“I won’t be long. There’s a newspaper on the coffee table...uh...which is under those three boxes, if you need something to do.”
Honor just grinned. “I thought I’d use the time to explore your apartment.”
Quinn paled.
“I’m kidding,” Honor murmured, taking pity on her. “Get going. I’m starving.”
Quinn backed up another step, her eyes on Honor. She was almost afraid if she went into the other room to shower, that when she came out, Honor would be gone. “Just one minute. Okay?”
Something of Quinn’s uncertainty showed in her voice, and that small vulnerability tugged at Honor’s heart. Softly, she said, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“All right. Okay.” Nodding briskly, Quinn disappeared around the corner.
Honor walked into the kitchen and stood at the back door, looking pensively out at the deck. Only two nights before, she had sat on those steps outside telling Quinn about a precious piece of her heart. Standing on the inside now, listening to the shower run in the room next to her, she thought of how effortlessly Quinn had come into the very center of her consciousness. Quinn hadn’t pushed, she hadn’t pried, she hadn’t pressured Honor in any way. She’d simply listened, and in the process, had awakened long-forgotten pleasures. The anticipation of an evening spent sharing secrets, the thrill of a certain voice speaking your name, the rush of heat beneath a particular touch. Simple pleasures made profound because of the presence of a singular woman.
Honor jumped at the sound of a husky voice behind her.
“All set.”
Hoping to seem casual, Honor turned and knew instantly that she had failed. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks and knew that her reaction must be obvious, even in the waning light. Quinn wore dark chinos, so blue they were almost black, with a thin silver-buckled belt at her waist and a plain white shirt with the top two buttons open. Casual loafers, the flat, plain watch that she always seemed to wear, and wet hair nonchalantly combed. She was six feet away, and Honor could smell a hint of her cologne, dark and sharp.
At the first look, a wave of pleasure broke through Honor’s depths. As the seconds passed, an avalanche of sensation followed close behind—lust and longing and shocked surprise all rolled together.
“Something wrong?” Quinn questioned quietly. She wasn’t sure whether to stay or disappear. Honor had the strangest look on her face, as if Quinn were a stranger. “Honor?”
Honor gave a small start and an embarrassed laugh. “No! Nothing’s wrong. You look great. Let’s go.”
Still uncertain, Quinn stepped aside so that Honor could pass. The kitchen was small enough that Honor’s shoulder brushed Quinn’s arm, and the brief contact sent goose bumps dancing along her skin.
“Where are we going?” Quinn followed Honor through the apartment, grabbing her keys from the small side table inside the door on the way out.
“A little place a few blocks from here.” Honor stopped on the porch and turned to Quinn. “We can walk...if you don’t mind.”
“No,” Quinn replied instantly. “I’d like to walk. I’m still getting a feel for the neighborhood.”
Honor laughed. “Then let me be your tour guide.”
By the time they arrived, it was nearly eight. Since it was a weeknight, they were able to get a table right away and were seated in a nook near one of the front windows, where they could see passersby outside but still be separated from the other diners. It was cozy and intimate.
Quinn looked around the small, tidy restaurant, appreciating the local artists’ watercolors on the wall and the muted light cast by the glass wall sconces. “This is nice.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Honor wondered how a situation that should have been awkward—dinner with someone she barely knew and with whom she’d had anything but a smooth start—could be so incredibly easy. But she knew the answer. It was Quinn.
“You know, you’re a very unusual surgeon,” Honor said musingly.
Quinn looked up questioningly from the menu she’d been perusing. “Oh?”
“You don’t rush. You let things happen.”
It wasn’t what Honor said, but the way she looked at Quinn when she said it—intently, with just a touch of wonder—that made Quinn forget all about dinner. In an instant, it was all about Honor. “The things that really matter can’t be hurried.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of waiting?”
Quinn nodded solemnly. “Yes, sometimes. It can get very lonely, waiting.”
Honor’s lips parted in surprise. “Are you...lonely?”
“Not right now.” The corner of Quinn’s mouth lifted. “Right now, I’m almost as happy as I could be.”
“Almost?”
Suddenly serious, Quinn sighed. “Since I got sick, I’ve had a lot of time to consider what I wanted in my life. Up until then, the only thin
g I’d ever thought about was surgery.”
“And now?” The answer, Honor found, seemed critical.
Quinn shrugged. “I want a life, not just a career.” She blushed and looked away for an instant, then back to Honor. “I’d like to have some of the things that you have.”
Honor’s eyes widened in surprise. “What I have?”
“Yes,” Quinn said softly. “Friends, family, children. The things that matter at the end of the day.”
“And a lover?” Honor’s voice was pitched low, heavy with feeling. Were you just being kind, not mentioning that?
“Yes. Most of all.”
Honor looked at the woman across from her, so handsome and exciting, so charming, so exquisitely sensitive. “You’ll have all of that someday.”
“I’m patient. I don’t mind waiting.”
“Like I said,” Honor forced a smile, uncertain of the conversation and frightened by the wild racing of her blood. “You’re a most unusual surgeon.”
Quinn laughed without rancor. “I’m not a surgeon anymore.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. That’s not your fault.” Quinn let out a long breath. “Are you going to tell me what you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Yes,” Honor said definitely. She reached across the table and brushed her fingers across the top of Quinn’s hand. “But after dinner, all right? Let’s enjoy this place together first.”
“I’d like that very much.”
Two hours later, they walked toward home, strolling slowly along a different route than the one they had taken to reach the restaurant. Honor pointed out some of the historic landmarks on the way. When they reached a small triangular park that jutted off the winding road that led from the river into their neighborhood, they sat on a bench beneath a tree, the sounds of the traffic behind them. It was fully dark, but the streetlights provided enough illumination for them to see each other.
As Honor sat facing her, Quinn stretched her arm out along the back of the park bench, her hand behind but not quite touching Honor’s shoulder. “That was a great restaurant. Thank you.”
“I enjoyed being there with you. No thanks are needed.”
It took every ounce of Quinn’s willpower not to rest her fingers against the back of Honor’s neck and slip her fingers into the soft strands of hair that fell gently over Honor’s collar. They were close enough that if she just leaned forward, she could take Honor into her arms. And she wanted to. She’d wanted to for the last few hours, the last few days, and, she realized now, even longer. For months she’d been wanting a woman who could make her feel what Honor did—hot and urgent, steady and cool, tall as a mountain, and as insignificant as a grain of sand. Everything, everywhere, right down to her bones.
“You’re quiet,” Honor said gently. “Is everything all right?”
Quinn ran a hand over her face. “God, Honor, I don’t know.” She blew out a breath. “Say what you need to say to me.”
“All right.” Honor straightened, her voice strong. “I met with the hospital attorneys today regarding the issue of your malpractice coverage and the kinds of cases we do in the emergency room.”
“And my...condition.” Quinn couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice as she said the last word.
Gently, Honor said, “Yes. In relationship to your cardiac condition.”
“And?”
“After much roundabout debate, the consensus was that you should be allowed to work in the ER.”
Quinn studied Honor’s face. Her expression was closed, guarded. “But?”
“But that there would be restrictions on the kinds of cases you can treat.”
Quinn bolted to her feet so quickly that Honor jumped in surprise, giving a startled gasp. Quinn raked her fingers through her hair, then fisted her hand. “Jesus Christ, Honor! You’re going to tell me that I can’t operate, aren’t you? That I’ll have to work up only medical patients and let the trauma patients—”
“No!” Honor scrambled to her feet and put both hands on Quinn’s shoulders, shaking her lightly. “That’s not what I was going to say.” The tension beneath her hands was frightening. Quinn’s body was rigid. “Quinn, it’s all right. Come sit down and listen.”
For a moment, Honor thought Quinn was simply going to walk away.
“Please.”
Eventually, Quinn relented and sat down, but this time the distance between them stretched wide.
As calmly as possible, Honor explained. “You can’t do any open procedures—”
Quinn cursed.
“Any open procedures,” Honor repeated succinctly, “without the immediate availability of a senior ER attending who is able to accept medical responsibility.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Quinn’s tone was suspicious, dark with frustration.
“It means me.”
A minute passed, and then another. Quinn got up, paced a few steps away, turned, walked back, and sat again. “You’re going to baby-sit me.”
“No. I’m going to supervise you.” Before Quinn could begin another protest, Honor slid closer on the bench and rested her hand just above Quinn’s knee. “Quinn, it isn’t unlike situations where board-eligible surgeons are required to do an additional year of training before they can sit for their exams.”
“Those people need remedial training. I don’t.” It was adding insult to injury, and Quinn’s head pounded with the injustice of it.
“Of course you don’t. I know that. But this way, the hospital is covered should...anything happen.” Honor could only imagine how humiliating this must be for someone of Quinn’s caliber. “No one needs to know. I don’t need to be in the room with you when you’re doing a procedure—you just need to give me a heads up, which would happen anyhow. It’s a formality.”
“For how long?” Quinn asked dully. She couldn’t fight it. Didn’t want to fight Honor.
“Six months. That should be enough time to determine that there won’t be any problems.” Honor risked a quick stroke down Quinn’s arm. “And I don’t think that there will be.”
Quinn nodded. “Fine.”
Honor squeezed Quinn’s hand. “Quinn—”
“It’s fine. Whatever you say.” Quinn stood and looked around, realizing for the first time that they were alone. Cars moved by on the street behind them, but the park, although small, was secluded. “We should get back.”
“All right.” Honor wanted to say she was sorry, but it would have been a platitude. It had been her judgment call to investigate the issue, and despite the fact that Quinn was unhappy, Honor thought the decision reasonable. But she ached for the pain she heard in Quinn’s voice.
They walked a block in silence before Quinn said, “Does this mean I’m going to take call with you every shift?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I guess that’s the silver lining.”
Honor cut Quinn a look, and Quinn grinned back. In another minute, they were both laughing quietly.
“Do you know that I hate this almost as much as you do?” Honor asked.
“Which part? The supervising or—”
“No.” Honor’s tone was vehement. “I hate that you lost something so critical to you, Quinn. Through no fault of your own, and after you’d already suffered so much. It’s not fair that you should lose more.”
Quinn stopped abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk and caught Honor’s hand, spinning her around until they faced one another. She leaned forward, her body nearly touching Honor’s. “I’m glad that I’m here. I’m glad that I met you. It’s going to be all right.”
Honor gave a shaky laugh, captured by the intensity in Quinn’s face. There were moments like this when she glimpsed a different woman simmering beneath the calm exterior. There was fire there; Honor could feel the heat. She wanted to immerse herself in the flames of Quinn’s passion and blaze with her. Her body wanted it. And she feared that her heart might want it, too. “So am I. Very glad.”
�
�Good. That’s good then.” Quinn forced her fingers open and released Honor’s hand. They walked silently the last half-block to Quinn’s house and climbed the stairs to the front porch together. Under the shadows outside the small circle of light cast by the bulb above the door, Quinn said, “Am I going to work tomorrow, then?”
“Seven a.m.”
“I’ll be there.”
“You know, you shouldn’t be riding your bike for a few more days, not with that shoulder injury.”
“You’re probably right,” Quinn agreed. “It’s not that far. I’ll walk.”
Honor shook her head. “Of course you won’t. Come over to the house around six fifteen. You can have a cup of coffee with me, and we’ll ride in with Linda. She and I take turns driving depending on what the kids and Robin need to do in the evening.”
Hesitating only a second, Quinn said, “All right. Thanks.”
“Good. That’s settled then.”
Quinn didn’t want to say good night, but she knew she needed to go inside. Being with Honor was the sweetest torture she’d ever known, but there was only so much restraint left in her. She was tired and disappointed, and she wanted so very much to lose herself in Honor’s arms. Leaning forward, she brushed her lips against Honor’s cheek. “Thanks for everything, Honor.”
Before Honor could think, before she could reason or rationalize or regret, she stepped near, threaded her arms around Quinn’s neck, and kissed her. She felt Quinn stiffen in surprise and then the lips against her mouth parted with a soft gasp. A heartbeat later, Quinn’s hands were at her waist, drawing her gently closer. When she felt her breasts and her belly and her thighs press into Quinn’s, a shiver played through her. Wavering on shaking legs, she slid her fingers into Quinn’s hair, stroking her neck as her tongue leisurely traced the surface of Quinn’s lips.
Quinn’s thumbs pressed unhurriedly up and down Honor’s sides as their tongues met—first exploring, then caressing. Honor moaned quietly, astounded by the fierceness of a simple kiss. Quinn’s mouth was hot; her palms were scorching as they massaged the muscles of Honor’s abdomen. Honor’s blood seethed with long-forgotten yearnings.