With a Twist

by Martin, Deirdre

  Natalie nodded. “I understand.” She looked at Quinn affectionately. “You’re just like your brother, non? Always working.”

  “Except her brother doesn’t get three headaches a week, and she does,” said Mrs. O’Brien.

  “Just drop it, Mom, okay?” Sinead pleaded wearily.

  The plates in Natalie’s hands were still warm. She lifted them to her nostrils, inhaling deeply. “Something with apples, yes?”

  “Your basic apple pie.”

  “She’s trying to prove she’s absorbed some American traditions after all these years living here, eh, macushla?” said Quinn’s father, squeezing his wife’s shoulder.

  “Macushla is Gaelic for ‘my darling,’ ” Quinn explained before Natalie could even ask.

  Everyone inside now, Quinn closed the door, relieving Natalie of one of the pies. She was glad; she was so anxious she was trembling and afraid she was going to drop them.

  “Come, I want you to meet my family.” Natalie led the O’Briens over to the couch, where Vivi and Anthony now stood waiting to greet Quinn’s family. “This is my sister, Vivi,” Natalie said proudly, “and this is my future brother-in-law, Anthony. They’re both chefs. Right across the street from each other, as a matter of fact. In Brooklyn.”

  “I hear congratulations are in order,” said Quinn’s mother. Natalie tensed. “You’re getting married soon, isn’t that right?”

  “Yes,” said Vivi.

  Natalie prayed that Mrs. O’Brien’s pious side didn’t emerge, even if it was only for a moment. Luckily, it didn’t. She was all smiles, asking Vivi all about her dress. Natalie wondered if Quinn had asked her not to say anything. She’d have to remember to ask him later.

  “I’m just going to put these in the kitchen and check on dinner.” Natalie turned with a smile, heading for the kitchen. A few minutes later, Vivi appeared.

  “Quinn’s family seems very nice,” she observed.

  Natalie put the pies down on the counter. “They are. I just wish Liam were here. He’s the one I know best. We get along very well.”

  “Who’s the serious one?”

  “Sinead. I think she’s a very high-strung person.”

  “You should introduce her to Anthony. She’d probably be better suited to him than I.”

  “There’s no one better suited to you than Anthony, so just hush.”

  Vivi checked the coq au vin. “This will be ready soon. All you need to do is baste it two more times in the next twenty minutes. We’ll set the oven timer. When it’s done, have Quinn arrange it on that big platter. He can then slice the baguettes and toss a nice salad while you prepare the creamed green beans.”

  “Honestly, it would be so much easier if we just microwave—”

  “Do not even finish that sentence,” Vivi interrupted with mock seriousness. “Not in the presence of a chef.” She sighed wistfully. “It’s very nice to see Quinn again. He never comes in anymore—proof that he was only coming in so he could see you.”

  Natalie blushed a moment, then grabbed her sister up into a spontaneous hug. “I can’t thank you enough for today,” she whispered. “I’d be doomed were it not for you. Come on, we’d best go back out there.”

  Natalie knew it made her look anxious, but she couldn’t stop glancing in the direction of the kitchen every couple of minutes, despite Vivi’s having set the timer. As she’d told Quinn, she wanted everything to go perfectly.

  Inevitably, talk turned to Anthony and Vivi’s wedding. Anthony was unable to resist asking Quinn’s family’s opinion about whether he was right in wanting the reception to be large, or whether Vivi was right, wanting it to be, in his words, “a sad little affair.”

  “Oh, you gotta go big, darlin’, big,” Quinn’s father said without hesitating. “The more the merrier.”

  “I told you,” Anthony said to Vivi smugly as she shot him daggers.

  “Wouldn’t you agree, darlin’?” Quinn’s dad asked his mother.

  “Now, I do think it’s a matter of personal taste,” Quinn’s mother said cautiously. “However, we Irish do like to have big weddings.” She gave Quinn and Natalie a none-too-subtle glance before continuing. “And if the music is good, well, that guarantees everyone will have a good time. They’ll be dancing into the wee hours.”

  Anthony looked triumphant.

  “I’ll think about it,” Vivi murmured noncommittally.

  The timer went off in the kitchen, and Natalie and Quinn rose simultaneously.

  “Why don’t you all head into the dining room, and mademoiselle and I will bring out her culinary delights just as soon as we can?” said Quinn. Natalie was the only one who caught the brief flash of mischief in his eyes. He thought it hilarious that she was pretending to make dinner. Connard .

  “Need any help, darlin?” Quinn’s mother asked Natalie.

  “Oh, no, no, I’m fine,” Natalie assured her quickly. “Please, go make yourself comfortable at the table.”

  She hustled into the kitchen, turned the timer off, and put the coq au vin on the counter. “Vivi says you’re to arrange this on the platter, toss the salad, which I have already cut up, and slice the baguettes while I try to cook these infernal green beans in cream sauce, which I’m sure we could have microwaved.”

  “I can’t decide who’s bossier: you or your sister.”

  “When it comes to food, Vivi.” She turned to Quinn anxiously. “They’ll like this, right? It’s not too fancy? It doesn’t look like I’m showing off?”

  “They’ll like it,” Quinn assured her. “Please relax, Nat. Please. Although it is kind of cute to see Miss Calm, Cool, and Collected a little flustered. It makes you deliciously vulnerable.”

  “I’m going to give you a deliciously vulnerable kick in your derriere if you don’t get started on the chicken.”

  “Ah, there’s the feisty girl I—adore.”

  The air around them charged. Quinn turned quickly to the task before him, while Natalie, heartbeat banging, went to the stove to start on the string beans, which Vivi claimed would only take a few minutes. She tucked away in her heart what Quinn had nearly said and got to work.

  “This is delicious, darlin’, truly delicious,” Quinn’s father raved enthusiastically. “Though at this giant table for twelve, I feel like I’m at the Last Supper.”

  “It might be, depending on how well Natalie followed the recipe,” said Quinn.

  Everyone laughed, Natalie included. The meal was going very, very well. She was glad Vivi was there, helping to bolster her at every turn, telling stories that couldn’t help but make Natalie look good in the O’Briens’ eyes. Most important of all, she was beginning to feel as though she was really getting to know Quinn’s family. Sinead was still somewhat quiet, but she liked Maggie very much. She was free-spirited and open, reminding her of Vivi. Her husband, Brendan, was nice, too, with a charming sense of humor. In fact, all the men round this table had a pretty good sense of humor. So far, it had been a wonderful, relaxed meal.

  “Now, this coq au vin,” said Quinn’s mother. “What all is in it exactly?”

  Merde. Why hadn’t she realized that Quinn’s mother would ask that, being a cook herself?

  Vivi jumped in. “This is grand-mère’s recipe, isn’t it? The one you make with the mashed-up garlic and the bacon and the Beaujolais?”

  “I knew you’d recognize it!” Natalie replied, wishing she could duck beneath the table right now to kiss her sister’s feet.

  “If I remember correctly, it has just a soupçon of cognac in it as well, right?”

  “You don’t make it at your bistro?” Quinn’s mother asked Vivi skeptically.

  Double merde.

  Vivi covered beautifully. “I use a different recipe. One that’s a little easier to prepare.”

  Quinn’s mother nodded, seeming satisfied.

  “Vivi made it,” Natalie suddenly blurted out, cheeks flaming. “I can’t cook. I wanted to impress you.”

  Quinn’s mother looked touched. “T
here was no need to impress us, love. The invite alone was a lovely gesture. Anything you served would have been fine.”

  “But you suggested the coq au vin.”

  “That’s kind of my fault,” Quinn interjected ruefully.

  Natalie turned to him. “How?”

  “Uh, Mom and I were talking once, and she mentioned that you kept pressing her to add coq au vin to the menu. So I suggested that the next time you brought it up, she call you on it and say, ‘Fine, but you have to make it.’ ” He winced. “Sorry?”

  “That’s not why I asked you to make it, though,” Quinn’s mother hastily assured her. “I wasn’t trying to trick you into putting your money where your mouth is. I genuinely wanted to try it, because I’ve never had it. So don’t be blaming Quinn here.”

  “Yeah, don’t be blaming me,” Quinn chimed in with an Irish brogue.

  Natalie wanted to kick him hard under the table.

  “I hope you can forgive me,” Natalie said humbly.

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” said Quinn’s mother. She turned to Vivi. “Delicious,” she said.

  “Natalie did do the green beans,” Vivi pointed out.

  Quinn’s mother winked at Natalie. “Delicious.”

  Brendan put an arm around Maggie’s shoulders. “Don’t feel bad, Natalie. This one here can’t cook worth a tinker’s damn, either.”

  Maggie’s mouth fell open. “That’s not true!”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Brendan kissed the side of her cheek. “You give a bloody good massage.”

  “And it doesn’t matter to me if you can’t cook, either,” Quinn told Natalie, kissing her cheek. She felt radiant. This was the first time he’d kissed her in front of his family. His parents were practically beaming. They do like me, she thought ecstatically. What a wonderful day it had turned out to be.

  “I thought that went really well, don’t you?” Natalie asked Quinn after his family, Anthony, and Vivi had departed. By the time the meal was over, Natalie’s anxiety had evaporated. Telling them the truth about Vivi preparing the coq au vin had been the right thing to do. Had she not, her deception would have gnawed at her.

  “I thought it went great.”

  Quinn and she had cleaned up the kitchen and dining room, loaded the dishwasher, and were now relaxing in the living room. Quinn’s feet were stretched out on the coffee table, his arm around Natalie, who had her feet curled up beneath her, her head resting on Quinn’s shoulder.

  “I told you my mother didn’t hate you,” Quinn continued.

  He swung his feet off the coffee table, taking his arm from her shoulder. “I’m going to go check out Bernie’s CDs.”

  “All right.” Music would be nice, though Natalie didn’t mind it being just the sound of their two voices.

  Quinn’s head was tilted sideways as he walked up and down the shelves of CDs, his eyes scouring Bernard’s massive collection. Natalie thought there had to be at least four hundred CDs, maybe more. Odd that she’d never thought once to listen to any of them. He’d told her to make herself at home, but clearly, she hadn’t yet, not really. Bernard also had an incredible collection of DVDs she hadn’t investigated, either.

  “See if he has Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto,” Natalie called to Quinn. “You know, your favorite Rachmaninoff piece?”

  Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Do I detect a note of sarcasm in mademoiselle’s voice?”

  Natalie put her hand over her heart. “Moi? Never.”

  Quinn reached up and plucked a CD out from a high shelf, examining it.

  “Do you like Kenny G?”

  “He plays that mellow saxophone music, yes?”

  “I think so.”

  “Let’s try it, then.”

  Quinn nodded, loading the CD in Bernard’s sound system. The smooth, mellifluous sound of a saxophone filled the large, airy space, light and relaxing.

  “What’s the name of the CD?” Natalie asked.

  “Oh. Didn’t even bother to check.” He picked up the CD cover. “Uh . . . I’m in the Mood for Love: The Most Romantic Melodies of All Time,” he murmured uncomfortably.

  “Oh.” Natalie felt a surge of heat crackle through her as Quinn sat back down beside her, his hand reaching up to caress her cheek.

  “I think it’s an appropriate title,” Quinn murmured seductively.

  “Oui.” Natalie took a deep breath, then began running her fingers through the thick, beautiful tangle of his hair. She didn’t want to be teased tonight. She wanted to be loved fully and love fully in return. “I want you,” she whispered.

  “Really.” Quinn drew her into his arms, his lips just barely touching hers. “Tell me more.”

  “It’s not just what I want,” Natalie managed with a jagged breath. “It’s what you want.”

  Quinn’s gaze, already intense with desire, sharpened. “And what would that be?”

  “Me.”

  She began running her palms up and down his broad, muscular shoulders, the simple act exciting her beyond belief. Despite her bold declaration, she was feeling a little tentative. Still, she would not stop. She moved to nuzzle his neck, gratified when a small groan escaped his mouth.

  “You like that?” she whispered as she began planting hot, tiny kisses along his jawline.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think yes.”

  “You think right.”

  With torturous, almost infinitesimal slowness, Quinn lowered his mouth to hers, their tongues beginning their delicate dance, which soon turned frenzied. Natalie knew if she tried to explain it to anyone, they’d think she was crazy, but he tasted unmistakably of Quinn, just as he smelled unmistakably of Quinn. All her senses knew him intimately.

  Quinn’s hand moved to her breasts, his fingers circling her nipples through the material of her shirt, producing such an agony of lust she almost couldn’t take it. “Take me to bed,” she whimpered. “Please, God, take me to bed.”

  Quinn chuckled. “You’re a very demanding lady.”

  “Yes, but you like it. Don’t deny it.”

  “Believe me, I’m not.”

  He stood, extending a hand to her. Trembling, Natalie took it, leading him down the hallway to the master bedroom, trying hard not to betray the eagerness threatening to overtake her as she led him into the room toward the king-sized bed. She untwined her fingers from his to switch on the bedside lamp, its muted light perfect for just this occasion. Head swimming, she pulled back the bedspread to reveal the crisp white sheets she had just laundered that morning, their fresh scent wafting up to tickle her nose.

  Eyes pinned to hers, Quinn kicked off his shoes, and Natalie did the same. She could still hear the slow, smoky jazz playing in the living room, distant now but no less seductive.

  “C’mere,” Quinn said as he stretched himself out on the bed, pulling her down beside him so they faced one another. He cradled her face in his hands, his gaze quietly intense as he once again put his mouth to hers, the taste of him familiar yet so intoxicating at the same time.

  “Quinn,” she whispered.

  “Mmm?” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her as his mouth moved to nip at her earlobe. Natalie closed her eyes a moment, luxuriating in the feel of their being stretched out together like this, the fit of her body against his still perfect.

  “I want you to use the word you were originally going to say in the kitchen—you know, when you said I was the feisty girl you adore.”

  Quinn pulled back slightly to look at her, his eyes dark with desire. “I was going to say you were the feisty girl I love.” His voice turned hoarse with emotion. “God help me, but I do love you, Natalie.”

  “I love you, too,” she said, tears filling her eyes. She’d dreamed of him saying this for so long. He was the only man she’d ever truly loved; no other had ever inspired such passion in her. His touch made her feel obscenely alive.

  Desire crossed over the line to lust as she crushed her mouth against his, a small groan escaping her
lips. Quinn drew her tighter to him, feeding her want. Wanting to touch, wanting to memorize the body that had always inflamed her, though she was loathe to admit it for so long, she moved her hands beneath the back of his shirt, caressing him with her curious fingers. Quinn inhaled sharply as her exploration took her lower down his body. She touched his hips tentatively and then grew bolder in her touch. His entire body tensed; she could tell he was fighting the desire within him to take her right now. But he held back, exciting her even more. He wanted it to be as good as she did. Crazed with need, she pulled her hands up to again drag his mouth to hers, her hands fisting in his hair.

  It was too much for him. Groaning, Quinn rolled on top of her, his hardness against her nearly driving her to the brink. He looked down at her, the naked desire in his eyes so heart-stopping that she could not prevent herself from rubbing against him gently. Breathing hard, Quinn pressed his forehead to hers.

  “I want this to be good. I want it to be worth the wait.”

  Joy shot through Natalie. “Me, too.”

  Quinn lowered his mouth to her throat, his kisses seductive and undeniably authoritative. She let her head drop back, reveling in the sensation. When he raised himself up to begin undoing the buttons of her blouse, her mind fogged. He was undoing the buttons very slowly, very deliberately. She could see it in his eyes, the way he was watching her, gauging her reaction. She decided to forgo words and show him with her body what he was doing to her as she rubbed herself against him more insistently.

  His breath ragged, Quinn hastily pushed up her bra, his greedy mouth latching onto her left breast as one hand teased and circled the nipple of the right. Natalie gasped, pleasure possessing her as his teeth nipped, grazed, bit lightly. Each masterful lick of his tongue intensified the frenzy creeping up on her. She wanted this never to end, yet at the same time, she craved him desperately.

  When he pressed into her with his whole body, Natalie thought she would explode. Panting wildly, she tugged on the hem of his shirt. Quinn reluctantly tore his mouth from her breast and, sitting up, quickly shucked his shirt, throwing it onto the floor. His bare chest was breathtaking: muscled, hard, with a line of dark hair trailing down the middle of his abdomen before disappearing beneath the waistband of his briefs. He carefully lowered himself back down, burying his face in her neck before whispering things in her ear no man had ever said to her before: tender words mingled with dirty ones that left her gasping with wild desire.