The Man Upstairs (You, Me & The Kids)

by Pamela Bauer

  “Yeah, I did,” he said, taking off his gloves.

  “Why?”

  “Because I like being around you.”

  She thought the warmth of his words could have melted the snow settling on her coat. “I didn’t think you even noticed I was here,” she said softly.

  He gazed into her eyes and said, “Believe me, I noticed.”

  “Dena!” Greg called out from a few feet away, causing her to look away from those penetrating eyes. “You can head back to the van if you want. I’m going to talk to Richard.”

  “I will. It’s cold out here,” she called back to him, then rose to her feet.

  Quinn got up, too. “I have something for you. Come with me,” he said, nodding toward the parking lot.

  The cars were only a few steps from the ice rink. As soon as Quinn reached his, he stashed his sticks, gloves and helmet in the back, then went around to the side to open the passenger door. He reached into the glove compartment, pulled out a slip of paper and handed to her.

  On it was a date and an address. “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Your end of our agreement,” he answered.

  “It’s only a time and a place. What am I supposed to do with it?”

  “Do you like to read?”

  “I love to read.”

  “Good. That’s an elementary school in St. Paul. The kids there love reading. The Cougars have set up a program that encourages them to read as many books as they can. Once a month we visit the school, read a few stories to them and then talk about books they’ve read—you know, what they liked and didn’t like, that sort of thing.”

  “And where do I fit into this picture?”

  “You’re going to be a part of the program. They love having adults read to them.”

  “I’m sure they love having famous hockey players read to them,” she corrected.

  “Listen, some of these kids don’t even have a clue what I do for a living,” he pointed out, then added with a wry grin, “so you won’t feel out of place.”

  Oh, yes, she would. Just being around him was enough to make her feel as if she were way out of her league.

  “It’s a great program and not a bad way to spend a morning,” he went on. “And you’re lucky because the next visit isn’t until the twenty-fifth so you have a couple of weeks to prepare.”

  “Prepare?”

  “To see me again,” he said with a sexy grin.

  Yes, it was getting to the point that she did need an advance warning as to when that grin was going to be flashed her way. She only wished she were immune to its power. It was sheer craziness to fall for that kind of charm, especially since he was a man whose life was in the public spotlight. She already had a list of bad choices she’d made when it came to men. There was no point in adding another name to it. And she wasn’t naive enough to think that he was asking her to do the reading program because they were short on volunteers.

  “I’d love to help the kids, but I really haven’t been at my job long enough to be asking for time off,” she suggested, knowing it would be wise to keep their relationship on a professional level.

  “You want me to ask Greg for the green light on this one?” He nodded toward the art director, who was still on the ice.

  She shook her head. “No, please don’t. Maybe I could donate some books.”

  “I’m not asking for books, Dena. I’m asking for your time. We made a deal, remember?” There was a challenge in his eyes, and she had a feeling it had nothing to do with books and reading.

  Just then her boss called out to her.

  “Can I count on you to be there?” Quinn wanted to know.

  She looked at the date and address of the school one more time, then shoved the slip of paper into her coat pocket. “All right, I’ll be there. I’d better go. We’ll be in touch,” she told him, then hurried back to the Delaney van.

  ALTHOUGH DENA KNEW she could be quite happy without a man in her life, she had to admit there were times when having one around did come in handy. Bringing a new computer home was one of those times. At the electronics store, she’d had help loading the boxes into her car. Now, parked behind 14 Valentine Place, she knew it was going to be a challenge to get them into her second-floor apartment.

  Her only option was to take them one at a time. She bent to get the largest box, wrapping her arms around its width. With a grunt she straightened, only to find Quinn at her side. He’d left his jacket indoors and had come outside wearing a gray University of Minnesota sweatshirt and a pair of jeans.

  “Let me help you with that,” he said, relieving her of the burden.

  Grateful for the offer, she mumbled a thank-you, then bent to pick up a smaller carton.

  “I can take another one,” he said, nodding toward the remaining box in the car.

  Of course he could. He was a big guy. She set a slightly smaller box on top of the one already in his hands, which left only a small bag of accessories for her to pick up. She reached for it, then closed the trunk.

  He followed her up the stairs to the second floor where she unlocked the door and let him in. Most men would have been breathing heavily if they’d carried such a load. He looked as if he’d carried a loaf of bread.

  “Any particular place I should set these?” he asked, making a quick survey of the room.

  “The floor is fine,” she said, gesturing with her arm.

  “Anything else I can do for you?” His look intimated that his offer wasn’t limited to hauling boxes up the stairs.

  “No, that should do it. Thanks for your help,” she said, noticing the way he took in the contents of her room.

  “You’re welcome. It’s important for neighbors to help one another out, don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “I’d offer you something to drink but I only have mineral water.”

  “Mineral water is fine,” he told her, stepping farther into the room.

  She had a small portable refrigerator in which she stored just enough things so that she didn’t have to use the main kitchen on the first floor. She pulled a plastic bottle from it and handed it to him.

  “Thanks.” He unscrewed the cap and took a drink, then said, “This place sure has changed since the last time I was here. I suppose you know that before Leonie remodeled the house, this floor had boys’ bedrooms on it.”

  “I did hear something about that,” she said, aware of his scrutiny of her things.

  “I can tell you one thing, it was never this neat.”

  Dena was glad she’d straightened the place before she’d left for the mall.

  He moved over to her desk and leaned closer to peer at the models on her shelf. “These are cool. Did you do them?”

  She nodded. “I’m working on packaging for soy nuts.”

  He wrinkled his nose slightly. “Soy nuts?”

  She reached for a small covered dish and removed the lid. “Try some.”

  He held up his hand and shook his head. “No, thanks. I tried soy milk once and that was enough of an introduction to soy for me.”

  She shrugged. “These are actually pretty good. They come in flavors like honey roasted, barbecue…”

  Her words didn’t convince him to give them a try. “You do most of your work on a computer?”

  Again she nodded. “Most of it.”

  “Is that why you bought the new system? So you could bring work home?”

  “Yes. Plus I also freelance. Brochures, business cards…that sort of thing.” When it became apparent he wasn’t in any hurry to leave, she said, “You probably have stuff you want to do. Please don’t let me keep you from it.”

  “Not tonight. It’s why I was in Leonie’s kitchen when you pulled into the driveway.” Again there was no mistaking the interest in his eyes. She’d seen it the afternoon they’d had lunch and again at the photo shoot.

  “Lucky for me. I’m not sure how I would have gotten that box up those stairs without help.” She nodded toward the computer cartons.


  “It wasn’t luck. I was waiting for you to come home. I’d already tried knocking on your door so I went downstairs to see if Leonie knew where you were.” He moved closer to her and she caught the fresh scent of soap.

  “Why were you looking for me?”

  “To find out if you’re having as much trouble trying not to think about me as I’m having trying not to think about you.” His voice was seductively soft.

  She wanted to roll her eyes and tell him she’d heard better lines from high school boys, but there was no sly twinkle in his eyes, no cocky tilt to his head. Just a sincerity that made her totally aware of him as a man.

  If she had wanted to be coy, she could have tossed back her hair and asked why he imagined she’d been thinking about him at all. It was probably what a lot of women would have done. Not many women would pass up an opportunity to flirt with a guy like Quinn Sterling. And she could only imagine what hockey groupies would have done if they had been in her shoes.

  Only Dena had never been any good at flirting. Nor was she of the groupie mentality. She didn’t even like hockey. Yet if she were honest with herself, this man standing next to her had preoccupied her thoughts lately…and not only because of his connection with the charity projects.

  She didn’t want him to know that, however, and said, “I’m sorry. I’m sure you get a lot of people asking you to give of your time for various charity functions. I promise I won’t bug you anymore.”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  She tried to give him a blank stare of puzzlement, but there was no mistaking the look in his eye. He was attracted to her.

  “Have you had dinner yet?” he asked.

  She was about to tell him she had, but then her stomach growled and he smiled and said, “You haven’t. Good. I haven’t, either. Come over to Dixie’s with me. We’ll have a little wine, eat some ribs and we can get to know each other a little better. If we’re going to be neighbors asking each other for favors, we should at least do that, don’t you think?”

  She met his gaze boldly. “What I think is that you’re not asking me because you want to be neighborly.”

  “And does that bother you?”

  “Yes.” She could see no point in lying.

  “Why? Are you in a relationship with someone?”

  “No, but we don’t exactly have a lot in common.”

  “Now, that is something we don’t really know yet, do we? If you come with me to Dixie’s, we’ll find out.” The blue eyes held a hint of a challenge.

  As much as she hated to admit it, she was tempted to say yes. It had been a long time since she’d found a man interesting. And it wasn’t as if she would be expecting another dinner after this one. He probably had a long list of women he went out with.

  “So what’s it going to be, Dena? Yes or no?”

  Not wanting him to see that she was attracted to him, she shrugged casually and said, “Yes.”

  He gave her a smile that said she’d made the right choice. “Great.” He moved toward the open door. “Is seven okay?”

  She nodded. “Seven’s fine.”

  “Good. I’ll see you then.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  QUINN STARED at the woman sitting across from him eating barbecued ribs. She was nothing at all like the women he usually dated. No painted fingernails. No fake eyelashes. No dark roots to her blond hair. As far as he could tell, she wasn’t trying to fool him about anything. Actually, she looked as if she didn’t care whether she impressed him or not.

  He could see that Dena Bailey dressed to please herself and no one else. He guessed it was probably the artist in her that made her want to be different from the millions of women who pored over fashion magazines in search of the latest trends. She made a statement with what she wore.

  This evening she had on a denim jacket that had all sorts of iron-on patches on it, including one that said, “What you see is what you get.” So far he liked what he’d seen. He wasn’t sure that it was a good thing, however. She was the kind of woman a man settled down with, and he wasn’t looking for a serious relationship.

  It wasn’t that there weren’t guys who were married and raising families while having a career in the NHL. The lifestyle of a professional hockey player made it difficult to be a husband and father, yet there were those who managed to make it work despite the amount of time they spent away from their families.

  Quinn had been raised by parents who came home and ate dinner with their kids every night, and that was how he wanted his family life to be. Someday.

  But not yet. As long as hockey was the most important thing in his life, there was no reason to think about settling down and starting a family. No reason to be interested in a woman like Dena. Yet he was.

  When she licked a finger covered in barbecue sauce, he couldn’t help but smile.

  “What? Do I have sauce on my chin or something?” she asked, quickly dabbing at her face with her napkin.

  “No, you’re fine.”

  She eyed him suspiciously.

  “I was just thinking that not many of the women I’ve dated in the past few years would have been comfortable eating barbecued ribs at Dixie’s, that’s all,” he told her.

  “And what kind of women have you been dating…as if I need to ask,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “There haven’t been any graphic designers in the group,” he admitted.

  “Well, that explains it. We designers are a messy finger bunch.” To prove her point, she deliberately swiped at a rib and then made a creative swirl in her mashed potatoes. “There. Art.” Again she licked her finger.

  He found the action incredibly sensuous. “Are you trying to discourage me from being interested in you? Because if you are, it’s not working.”

  She wiped her fingers on her napkin, then leaned both elbows on the table and met his gaze. “I’m still trying to figure out why you are interested. We really don’t have much in common, Quinn.”

  “We both like barbecued ribs,” he said smugly.

  “And dark beer,” she said, lifting her glass.

  “We both put in a lot of time on the job.” When she nodded, he added, “Our jobs are really pretty similar in nature.”

  That shifted her attention from her plate to his face. “You’re kidding, right? You honestly think that playing hockey for a living and being a graphic designer are alike?”

  “In certain aspects, yes.”

  “Such as?”

  “They’re jobs that you don’t get unless you’re blessed with a certain talent. In my case, an athletic ability that allows me to play hockey, and in yours, a gift of artistic creativity that allows you to design things.”

  She raised her brows in acknowledgment. “You have a point.”

  “And you told me you work best when you’re under pressure. So do I.”

  “Okay, so we have a little in common. A little,” she repeated, measuring just how little it was by holding her forefinger about an inch from her thumb. “I do work twelve months out of the year.”

  He grinned. “All right, I get a slightly longer break than the average person, but those eight months I’m working can be a grind. I spend half of my life on the road in more than twenty cities across the United States and Canada.”

  “So you consider playing hockey work, not a game?”

  By the way one brow arched, he could see that she didn’t. “It is work and it isn’t,” he contradicted himself. “It’s a game and it’s fun, but there’s also a lot of hard work that goes into it…and I’m not just referring to the physical conditioning aspect.”

  “So tell me what it’s like,” she encouraged him.

  To his surprise, she listened with great interest as he explained aspects of professional hockey most people never questioned. Not once did he feel as if he were boring her, nor did she try to change the subject and talk about herself, as many of the women he’d dated had done. She didn’t hang on his every word or bat her eyelashes at him
in awe. She simply listened intently to what he was saying.

  By the time they’d finished eating, he realized that he’d done most of the talking, which was exactly the opposite of what he had planned. He’d invited her to dinner because he’d wanted to find out more about her.

  When their server asked if they wanted dessert, he was surprised when Dena ordered a slice of the chocolate cake and coffee. Not many of the women he dated finished their meals, let alone ate dessert.

  “You like chocolate, too?” she asked when he requested the same thing.

  “Yes. Another thing we can add to the list,” he said with a grin.

  “I think there’s something else.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “We’re both passionate about our work.” She took a sip of the coffee the server had just poured, then looked at him over the rim and said, “We’re also both in very competitive fields.”

  “That’s true. People don’t buy a ticket to see their favorite team lose.” He opened a small container of cream and poured it into his coffee. “If you’re going to play the game, you gotta compete. Fortunately, I’ve always loved a challenge.”

  “Is that why you find me interesting?”

  He liked her straightforwardness. He was used to women who pretended to enjoy his sport, even if they didn’t know the first thing about hockey. Dena didn’t even attempt to try to convince him that she found the game exciting.

  “It is rather refreshing to meet someone who’s not the least bit impressed that I’m a hockey player,” he stated candidly. “In fact, I think for you, my job is actually a deterrent, isn’t it?”

  “I’m not going to get all gooey-eyed because you know how to swing that stick around on the ice,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

  “You don’t strike me as the type to get all gooey-eyed over any man,” he observed on a thoughtful note.

  “You’re right, I’m not.”

  There was a warning in her tone. It said, I may have agreed to come have dinner with you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to jump into bed with you because you’re Quinn Sterling, Cougar defenseman.

  “Have you ever been married?” he found himself asking her.