“Yeah,” Quinn agreed, but his gaze returned to Molly.
For the next hour, Quinn stood around, visiting with old friends and keeping an eye on Molly. He hardly noticed the looks he drew. He didn’t care if everyone realized he was watching her. Someone had to look out for her.
Finally he approached her and asked for another dance.
After a quick look at him, she looked down at her hands, twisted in front of her and declined. “I’m rather tired, actually.”
“Want to go home? I’ll be glad to give you a ride.”
“Are you leaving soon?”
He wanted to tell her he’d leave whenever if she went with him. He wasn’t exactly having a wonderful evening, watching other men hold her. Instead, he simply said, “Yeah.”
He could see a struggle in her eyes, but she finally said, “If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate a ride when you’re ready to go.”
“We’d better go tell Pam, then.” He wasn’t going to give her time to change her mind.
“If you’re sure,” Pam said. “If you want to wait about half an hour, we’ll be ready to leave then.” Pam looked at Quinn as if she questioned his motives.
“Quinn’s leaving now, and I’m really tired. I’ve been painting late into the night, so I need my sleep.”
“Okay,” Pam agreed with a smile.
“I’ll go warm up the car and pick you up at the front door,” Quinn murmured, hoping to escape before Molly changed her mind.
“DO YOU WANT ME TO PICK UP SARA in the morning and drop her off when I get Jeremy?” Pam asked after she watched Quinn walk away.
“Would you mind? I’ve got some cooking to do before we go to the Spencers’ tomorrow.”
“Nope, I’ll be glad to. Just…be careful,” Pam said, squeezing Molly’s hand.
“Yes, of course,” Molly agreed, not sure what Pam meant. Then she hurried to get her wrap before joining Quinn.
She’d discovered Pam was right about the benefits of attending the party. But she was weary. Life didn’t have the sparkle it had had when she moved to Tyler, with a clear plan in her head and enthusiasm in her heart.
“You’re being foolish,” she muttered to herself as she approached the door and Quinn. She knew the problem. And she would get over it. As soon as she put some distance between herself and Quinn Spencer.
And so you’re going home with him now?
Not with him! She was accepting a ride, that was all. With a full day tomorrow, she needed to get some rest.
But rest wasn’t what consumed her when she slid into Quinn’s Jeep Cherokee.
After several minutes of no conversation, Quinn asked, “So, you’ve been doing some painting?”
“Yes, getting the other suites ready for when the quilts are delivered. I’m opening on February fourteenth, you know, so I don’t have much time left. I told you I already have three bookings,” she told him, trying to sound enthusiastic.
“Terrific. Maybe you should hire someone to finish the painting. You don’t want to wear yourself out.”
“No, I can do it myself.”
Since Timberlake Lodge was only twenty minutes from Tyler, they didn’t discuss much else until he turned onto Ivy Lane.
“What time are you coming tomorrow?” he asked.
“Your father said to come around noon,” she reminded him.
“You can come earlier, if you want.” He watched her out of the corner of his eye.
She shook her head. “I have some baking to do before we come.”
He pulled into the driveway. “How’s the tree?”
“Beautiful. We appreciate your help.”
“Mind if I come in and look at it again?”
Molly didn’t know what to say. She didn’t think it would be a good idea to be alone with Quinn, but they wouldn’t have managed the tree without him. It seemed inhospitable to refuse his request. Finally she said, “Of course not.”
He killed the motor and got out of the car and came around it to open her door. Because she had to gather her full skirt before she got out, she hadn’t made much progress before he was beside her.
“Is that wrap warm enough?” he asked.
She’d simply taken a black pashmina, a wool shawl-like cape that had been popular for a while, and used it for tonight. She didn’t want to spend a lot of money on an evening coat that she would seldom use. “It’s fine.”
As if he didn’t believe her, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hurried her to the porch.
After she unlocked the door, she stepped inside, leaving him to close the door, and went into the living room to plug in the lights. In the semidarkness the lights turned the tree and its surroundings into a magical scene that invoked all the hopes and dreams of the Christmas season.
He stepped closer, reaching out to touch the glass ornament he’d given her. “It looks good there, doesn’t it?”
Several times Molly had considered taking the ornament down and storing it away. It reminded her of Quinn every time she saw it. She was glad she hadn’t done so.
“Yes, it’s a beautiful ornament.”
He stepped back suddenly, bumping into her. She tried to move away and almost tripped over her long skirt. In the confusion, she found herself wrapped in Quinn’s warm embrace. Her hands went to his chest to balance herself, and she stared into his green eyes.
Chapter Seventeen
Quinn felt her warmth flow through him, heating his body, inflaming his brain. He couldn’t help himself. Instead of releasing her, he covered her lips with his.
He promised himself if she rejected him, pushed him away, he’d release her. But she didn’t. As before, she opened herself to him, her arms sliding up his chest, wrapping themselves around his neck. He pulled her tighter against him, their bodies touching from lips to knees. Her shawl fell to the floor and his lips traveled down her neck to the promise that waited above the scooped neckline of her gown.
When she moaned, his lips returned to her mouth, wanting to catch that sound, to savor the need she was expressing, to meet it more than halfway. He was rapidly losing control as he touched her soft skin, kissed those full lips. Sliding the shoulder strap down her arm, he bared one breast and immediately kissed her there, gently nibbling at her tight bud, reaching for the other strap.
“Quinn, we shouldn’t,” she whispered, and he heard the denial in her voice. Quickly he transferred his mouth to hers, to stifle any attempt to withdraw. He couldn’t let her go away. He had to have this moment, this taste, because he’d longed for it for too long. It had haunted his nights, denying him sleep. It had filled his days.
When she shoved his overcoat back from his chest, he hurriedly let it slide to the floor. He found the zipper at the back of her dress and released her from its hold, never abandoning her lips. His hands stroked her curves, exulting in their closeness.
As he greedily tasted her, he still had the fore-thought to move them in the direction of the sofa that faced the Christmas tree. His legs were already growing weak with the power of the attraction. Hell, he’d known it would be like this. He wanted her so badly when she just smiled at him. Touching her lit him up, made it impossible to call a halt to what was happening.
She’d already untied his tie and pulled out the studs on his tuxedo shirt. When her soft hands touched his chest, stroking him as he stroked her, he lowered her to the sofa after lifting her out of the ball gown she’d worn so elegantly.
“Molly,” he muttered, unable to think of anything else.
“Too many clothes,” she protested, her voice rough, as if in the throes of a high fever.
He divested himself of everything, then did the same for her. He got his wallet out and retrieved a condom at the last minute, to protect Molly, a thought that remained in his head even as he was focused on the exquisite pleasure. Then he lost himself in loving Molly Blake.
WHEN MOLLY LAY SPENT, exhausted by the incredible pleasure of loving Quinn Spencer, she gave thanks. Not because she’d
done the right thing, but because, for the first time in her life, she knew what true love was, what sex with the one man she loved more than anyone in the world, except Sara, was like.
And she’d have that memory for the rest of her life.
But she wouldn’t have him.
When he’d taken her into his arms, she’d tried to think rationally. But the chemistry they’d tried to deny was too strong. Since she knew Sara was safe, Molly had decided, in a split second, to give herself the gift of loving this man…just once.
A Christmas gift. One that would bring as much pain as ecstasy. But one she’d always have. After Christmas Day, she intended to distance herself from Quinn Spencer.
She moved her hands over his bare back as he lay on top of her, wanting one last touch, one last feeling of his consuming presence, before she sent him away.
As if her touch had awakened him, he lifted his head and kissed her gently, tenderly, making her heart melt again.
“I forgot about Sara,” he suddenly whispered. “Do we need to go get her? You said Martha—”
She shook her head and buried her face against his chest. She felt grateful for his consideration of her child. He might leave her, would leave her, but he was a decent man. Something Christopher had never been.
He got up from the sofa, and her heart cried out. Not yet. Don’t leave yet.
As if he heard her, he didn’t reach for his clothes. Instead, he reached for her, scooping her up against his bare chest.
“Where—”
“To bed, my love. You deserve better treatment than a cold sofa.”
Tears seeped from her eyes as she realized she was being given her wish. When he put her down by the entrance to the living room, she wondered if he’d changed his mind. But he leaned over and unplugged the Christmas tree lights, then lifted her against him again.
“I can walk,” she whispered, even though she knew they were alone.
“I can’t let you go that far away,” he said, kissing her again. “I need to feel you against me.”
“It’s two flights of stairs,” she warned, but she snuggled closer to him, feeling the same way.
“There you go again, questioning my manhood,” he teased before he lightly kissed her.
Never. She’d known lovemaking with Quinn would be magical, and he’d proven her right. “I just want you to be able to perform,” she teased back.
“Damn!” And he set her down again.
“What?” she asked hurriedly, wondering if she’d done something wrong.
Instead of answering, he sprinted back to the living room and grabbed his pants.
Was he going to leave so abruptly? Had he thought she might expect something he couldn’t give, in return for their lovemaking?
He held up a gold foil packet and threw his pants on the floor, racing back to her. “I almost forgot.” Then he picked her up again and continued up the stairs.
As they reached the top of the second staircase, he said, “It’s a good thing you’re little or I might not have been able to make it all the way.” He paused at the top and kissed her, pulling her tight against him again.
The heat increased, her blood stirring again, desire filling her. “I’d help you,” she whispered.
He shoved open the door to her room and rushed to the large bed waiting for them. “I couldn’t ask for more,” he assured her as he immediately began to make love to her again. Already she responded as if she’d loved him forever, known every inch of his body and still couldn’t get enough of him.
As it would always be in her memory. This precious memory would be her own private Christmas dream, one to last her through the years.
WHEN QUINN AWAKENED the next morning, it was early. But he’d slept better, if not longer, than he had in ages.
Than he had since meeting Molly Blake.
He felt her warm body pressed against him and couldn’t imagine a better way to start the day. Except by making love with her again. But he’d only carried two condoms with him, and he hadn’t bothered to ask Molly if she had any on hand. He already knew the answer to that question.
He could already feel his body stirring against her, and he slid silently away. He wasn’t sure he’d have the willpower to protect her.
Besides, as much as he’d loved the incredible sex they’d shared, would share again, he knew he had some decisions to make. He certainly didn’t want to face Molly without being able to plan their future. And he couldn’t think clearly in her bed.
He quietly went downstairs and dressed in his now wrinkled tux. Then he gathered Molly’s gown and undergarments and climbed the stairs again. Just holding her clothes warmed his body. When he saw her sprawled under the cover, one bare shoulder peeking out, he laid her clothes on a chair and got out of there.
Silently he let himself out of the house and paused to draw a deep breath of cold air. Then he realized he’d best get himself and his car out of there before he and Molly became the talk of the town. He knew she’d hate that.
But he stood there a minute longer, not wanting to leave her and break the ties they’d just forged. He wanted to go back to her bed, to never leave it, he realized.
The sound of a car awakened him from his thoughts and he sprinted for the Jeep. The other vehicle turned off on Rose Street, not coming in front of Molly’s place, so he eased his car down the driveway and headed for his father’s house.
By the time he’d pulled into the driveway at Elias’s home, he knew he’d made a mistake. He shouldn’t have left her. What would she think when she woke up?
He’d call her. In an hour or two, when she would’ve awakened. He’d pick her and Sara up to come to his father’s. Everything would be all right. He’d explain and…and they’d talk.
Because now he knew what Seth had meant.
He couldn’t walk away from Molly and Sara.
MOLLY REALIZED Quinn was leaving when she opened one eye and saw him tiptoeing from her bedroom, dressed in his wrinkled tux.
She didn’t move. She didn’t want their stolen night, the memory she would cherish, to be tarnished with embarrassed excuses, painful goodbyes.
Instead, she wanted to hold on to his tenderness, his passion…his touch, for a little longer. She wished she could tell him she didn’t blame him. He’d made it clear, all along, that he wasn’t a forever kind of man. The Spencer men had a reputation. Everyone knew they didn’t commit.
He’d been friendly. Helpful. It wasn’t his fault that she’d fallen for him. At least, when her beloved Sara came to her to tell her she’d fallen in love, Molly would know what she was experiencing. She’d be able to guide her daughter without bitterness.
Because she wasn’t going to be bitter. She’d made her choice. And she didn’t regret it.
When she heard the door close downstairs, she slipped from the bed, afraid if she lay there much longer, she’d cry. But she’d had her moment, however brief it had been. She’d loved and been loved…for one night.
She dressed and went downstairs to make a carrot cake with its rich icing for Christmas dinner at the Spencers. Her last time to be close to Quinn Spencer.
WHEN SARA WAS DELIVERED on her doorstep around ten o’clock, Molly led her immediately into the living room, where Santa had left her gifts.
Sara’s eyes widened at the doll, resting in a baby carriage. Even as she gathered the doll in her arms, she looked at her mother. “Where’s Mr. Spencer?”
Molly’s heart thudded. Did Sara know? Had someone already spread rumors about Quinn spending the night? She sent a silent prayer winging its way upward, hoping her selfish greed, letting her spend one night with Quinn Spencer, wouldn’t hurt her child.
“What do you mean, Sara? Mr. Spencer is at his house, of course. We’re going there for lunch, remember?”
“Oh,” Sara said, her face solemn. “So Santa has gone back to the North Pole?”
Molly wrapped her arms around her child. “I’m afraid so. Did he forget to bring you something you wan
ted? I thought he did a pretty good job. Did you see the new storybooks? And I saw some puzzles, too, and a game. I know how to play Candyland. Do you want to have a game before we get dressed for lunch?”
Sara smiled and agreed, but Molly got the feeling she was missing something.
They carried the new game to the kitchen and Molly fixed them both cups of hot chocolate, filled with little marshmallows for them to drink. Then they played a game of Candyland.
Sara seemed content, but Molly kept an eye on her. “Do you like this game?” she asked, as they put it away after Sara had won.
“Yes. I want to invite Jeremy over to play it one day.”
“That’s a good idea. Tonight I’ll read you one of your new books before bedtime.”
The phone rang. It wasn’t the first time it had rung that morning, but Molly had ignored it. She was going to give her daughter one family Christmas at the Spencers, as she’d promised. She figured it was Quinn calling to cancel her invitation, so she just didn’t answer. She had an answering machine, but she hadn’t connected it yet. It would be a necessity when she opened her inn, but not today.
“Aren’t you going to answer the phone, Mommy?” Sara asked.
“Not today. It’s Christmas. Besides, it’s time to dress to go to the Spencers. Did you see the carrot cake I made? And I fixed a tray of candy and cookies, too. They’re very festive, aren’t they?” she asked brightly.
“What’s festive?” Sara asked.
“Um, Christmasy.”
“Yes. And our Christmas tree is festive, too, isn’t it? Mr. Spencer really liked it.”
So much he’d made love to her under its lights. But that was a thought for only her to have. Her memory to cherish.
“Yes, he did. Now let’s go put on our party dresses.” Upstairs, after she put Sara in the tub for her bath, she unplugged the phone. No more phone calls until Christmas had passed.
Then she got in the shower to wash away any lingering sadness.
Patchwork Family Page 18