by Lori Foster
“You mean—”
“Yeah. Let’s go to your place after the reception. My place is the pits.”
The doors shut before he could say anything more. He yanked out his cell phone, but in the elevator he didn’t have any reception. When he finally reached the parking level, he dialed again, and Ashley answered on the first ring.
“If you get me fired—”
“That was mean-spirited timing. I hope you know I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”
“Good. Neither will I.”
“But you’ll be working.”
“And thinking of you.” She gave a long, exaggerated sigh. “You know, Murphy, I really hope you’re worth all this trouble.”
She hung up on him, and Quinton started laughing. A man of lesser ego would feel pressured by her expectations on performance, but he had enough experience to know they’d be good together. He just needed to get her over the hang-up on her breasts—which he thought were perfect.
Thinking of her and the coming wedding, reception, and following night, he smiled all through the parking lot—until he reached his Porsche. He must have run over broken glass and not realized it because both tires on the driver’s side were flat. But deflated tires couldn’t ruin his good mood.
Settling against the fender, he called for a cab. In the morning he’d have the car repaired. He could have gone back inside, but he truly didn’t want to interfere with Ashley’s work. He’d have her to himself soon enough.
With that in mind, a few flat tires were nothing more than a mere inconvenience.
———
Ashley paced her living room, alternately stewing and anxiously checking her watch. When the doorbell finally rang, she leaped forward and yanked the door open.
Quinton stood there in a very fine dark suit and tie with a snowy white shirt. Ashley looked him over, struck by how his presence made her feel as if the sun shone down on her head. She grabbed him around the neck, pulled him down, and kissed him silly. It was a ticklish kiss because Quinton kept smiling. His big hands settled on her waist and he lifted her enough that he could walk them both through the doorway.
She heard the door click shut, felt her back press against the wall, and Quinton had both hands on her bottom, lifting her up so that she just naturally wrapped her legs around his waist.
“Jesus, honey…” Groaning, he put his forehead to hers; then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he took her mouth again. His tongue slid in, tasting her deeply, caressing her. He readjusted for the best fit, kissing her once again, before whispering around a ragged breath, “This is nuts.”
“I know.” She wanted to go on kissing him, but Quinton put his chin to the top of her head.
“You’re not dressed, Ashley.”
His throat looked so appealing that she took a small taste of him—and wanted more. “I’m supposed to do all that at Jude’s.” She tightened her legs and nipped at his chin. “He’s got a whole blasted staff waiting to work me over and make me presentable.”
“Staff?” Quinton tilted her back to see her face.
“Yeah. Make-up artist, hair stylist, manicurist, and so on and so on.” She wrinkled her nose. “That’s why I’m scrubbed clean with no makeup. I don’t think Jude and May trusted me to do it right.”
“No, I’m sure that’s not it. You always look lovely. More likely, it’s a treat, a way to thank you for taking part in their special day. It’s not uncommon for the females in a wedding party.”
Impressed, Ashley asked, “Do you just know everything about everything?”
“I don’t know enough about you.” Without straining, he balanced her against him with one hand curved under her bottom, and with the other, he smoothed her hair. “Will your parents be at the wedding? I’d like to meet them.”
How naïve. She shook her head and said, “I don’t have parents.”
He gave her an indulgent look. “Nature decrees otherwise.”
“Maybe once long ago I did. But I divorced myself from mine, remember? Far as I’m concerned, they’ve ceased to exist.”
He appeared troubled by her sentiments, so she teased him, saying, “Besides, you wouldn’t want to meet them. Trust me on this. Meeting May’s parents will be enough of a trial.”
“Why? What’s wrong with her parents?”
Using one finger, she made a loop-de-loop in the air. “They’re insane. Not just a little goofy, but full-blown nuts. May’s brother, Tim, is their golden child, the heir apparent who can do no wrong, regardless of the fact he’s a weasel. Her mom’s a mean, depressed drunk and a chain smoker. Her dad’s a sleaze and a habitual cheater. And May is keeper of the loony bin, the one they all rely on to make sure they don’t destroy themselves.”
“Was she poor, like you?”
“No way. May’s family owns a car dealership and they’ve always managed to stay afloat, despite a lot of extravagances, mostly thanks to May.” Ashley ran her palm along his jaw. He’d shaved recently and his skin was smooth and warm. “Did I tell you that May owns an art gallery? That’s how she and Jude met. They share a love for art. After their honeymoon, they’re going to do some major traveling around the world, promoting the SBC now that Jude’s bought into it as more than a fighter. May hopes to make some contacts with other artists and maybe pick up a few new pieces.”
He put a tiny peck to the bridge of her nose. “You have very fascinating friends.”
“Yeah. I’m going to miss them. But Denny will still be around. And speaking of Denny… Which of you ordered Flint to escort me to my car when I finished my shift?”
Rather than answer, Quinton softly kissed her cheekbone, her jaw, the corner of her mouth. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip before nibbling, and finally pressed his mouth firmly against hers.
As usual, Ashley melted. He tasted good and smelled even better and the careful, loving way he touched her made her stomach flutter.
“I did.”
The soft admission broke the sensual spell. “Hey, you can’t—” His mouth closed over hers again, smothering her rebuke. It was a rotten, macho-inspired tactic, and still she allowed herself to relax in his arms. She even went so far as to kiss him back.
But the second he lifted his head, she said, “Don’t try to take over my life, Quinton. I mean it.”
“I want you safe.”
“And you think I don’t?”
That bemused him. “I don’t know. I didn’t mean—”
“Let me tell you something. Elton Pascal is a certifiable maniac. A murderer, a villain, a conscienceless bastard. He’s not only killed people, he beat May’s brother to a pulp. And he threatened to get May and anyone else important to Jude. Trust me, I want nothing to do with him.” Except that she did want to see him behind bars, where he couldn’t further threaten May or the family May loved so much.
“Glad to hear it, but I didn’t mean—”
“Did you know that he fancied himself in love with the woman he murdered? But the poor girl was infatuated with Jude, so Elton blew her up, along with Jude’s driver, and deliberately framed Jude. When Jude managed a ’not guilty’ verdict, Elton started dogging him, doing everything he could to make Jude miserable. That’s how he ended up in Ohio. He pegged Tim for a pawn right away.”
“I suppose he knew Tim was May’s brother?”
“Yeah, and even though May didn’t realize it, everyone else knew Jude wanted her. Elton made it easy for Tim to borrow fifty thousand dollars from him.”
Quinton whistled.
“Right. And when Tim couldn’t pay it back, Elton gave him the option of killing Jude for him, to even the debt.”
“Jesus.” Quinton looked more alarmed than ever. “Tim agreed to that?”
She shrugged. “It took a sound beating to motivate Tim to Elton’s way of drinking.” It amazed Ashley that Quinton made no move to set her down. He held her as if she weighed nothing, as if he enjoyed chatting with her in just such a position. “But Elton hadn’t counted on the fact
that Tim would go crying straight to May.”
“Because Tim expects May to fix all his problems?”
“Yep. And May, not being a dummy, went straight to Jude.”
Quinton broke into a grin. “I can only imagine how Jamison took it.”
“I think he used it as an opportunity to get closer to May.”
“That’s what I would have done. But he would have wanted to protect her anyway.”
“Of course.”
“The way I want to protect you.”
“You just ran that one full circle, didn’t you?” He gave her an unashamed grin—which Ashley returned. “Well, genius, so did I. You see, I saw Elton’s handiwork firsthand after he’d pulverized Tim. Trust me, I’m aware of just how ruthless he can be, which is why I went to Flint to ask him to walk me out.”
“You did?”
“I keep telling you I’m not a dummy. I figured as night guard, Flint might as well earn his pay. But that’s when he told me he was going to see me to my car anyway. He just wouldn’t say why, or who put him up to it.”
To defuse her annoyance, Quinton brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I’m glad you’re being cautious.”
“Why would you assume I wouldn’t be? I don’t have a death wish. You have to trust me to take care of myself, all right?”
He shrugged. “I’ll promise to try, but that’s the best I can do.”
“Quinton…”
His hand opened on the side of her face, and his tone became guttural with some unnamed emotion. “I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you.”
Wow. He looked… really serious and sincere, and that was so far beyond what she was accustomed to, it unnerved her. Without even meaning to, she resorted to the ingrained defenses of a credible laugh and a hint of sarcasm.
“If that’s how you feel, then maybe you better put me down before your suit gets wrinkled and we end up late to the show. Jude will strangle me for sure if I mess up the big day. I’ve never seen a man so anxious to get legal with a woman.”
For the longest time Quinton looked at her, into her, as if searching her soul. “Did I thank you for the enthusiastic greeting?”
“No. But you have held me this whole time.”
He nodded. “I like it.” And with that, he cradled her in close for a tender hug, kissed her ear, and let her legs slide down to the floor.
A little wobbly in the knees, Ashley avoided his gaze and scuttled out of his reach. The man was just too potent for her own good. She gathered up her purse, slid her feet into flip-flops, and went out the door without a word.
This would be the longest day of her life.
But she had high hopes that the night would be worth the wait.
Chapter 5
Quinton stayed alert as he escorted Ashley to his Bentley at the curb in front of her apartment. After the garage told him that someone had deliberately slashed his tires, he’d made up his mind to hire protection for her.
Given her reaction to Flint’s escort, she’d be really pissed to know she now had two bodyguards standing watch over her at all times. But damn it, he couldn’t leave her at risk when he had the means to assist. Unlike his uncle, he’d never been obtuse to those around him. Sometimes, as his uncle suggested, he thought he felt and empathized too much.
With Ashley, he knew only that he needed her safety ensured.
Before picking her up, he’d driven through the lower-middle-class neighborhood where she lived. The older streets were in need of repair, but well shaded by tall oaks and elms, and lined with large houses converted into apartments.
A few miles down, he’d passed a trailer park. Farther up was a small strip mall and window factory. To the back of Ashley’s apartment complex were some abandoned lots and a crumbling drive-in that had gone out of service a decade ago.
It wasn’t a bad neighborhood by any stretch, but neither would he call it quiet. Youths hung out on every corner. He saw her neighbors on their porches, tossing back beer. Young kids, most of them barefoot and shirtless, played in the street and on the sidewalk. A few disreputable characters might have been drug dealers, and a young couple made out in a parked car.
In her loose jeans and tie-dyed baby doll T-shirt, Ashley fit in, while he and his suit stuck out like a sore thumb. “How long have you lived here?”
“A few years now.”
She sounded funny, drawing his scrutiny away from the surrounding area to her.
Slack-jawed and wide-eyed, she stared at his car.
He would have brought the Porsche, but the garage hadn’t yet replaced the tires. Arriving at a wedding in an Aston Martin VI2 Vanquish didn’t feel appropriate, so that left his Bentley.
“I’m a little enamored of vehicles,” he admitted to her.
“It’s… awesome.” She stepped away from him and dashed the last few feet to the car. Bending at the waist, she peered in the window without quite touching it. Her backside invited a pat, but Quinton restrained himself.
“Glad you like it.” Pushing a button on the pocket remote unlocked the doors. Quinton opened the passenger side for her, then caught her arm before she could scramble inside. “Would you like to drive?”
“No way!” She swung around to face him. “You’re pulling my leg.”
In that moment, he wanted to give her the damn car, just to keep her so happy. “Sure. You’re not reckless, are you?”
She bit her lip, turned to look at the car again. “God, you’re a terrible tease. And no, I’m usually a terrific driver.”
“Usually?”
She held out her hands, which trembled. “Jitters.” Her fingers curled into fists. “I hate to admit it, but this whole wedding thing has me off-kilter. There won’t be many people there, just May and Jude’s immediate families, a photographer, and Denny. But… I’ve never met Jude’s family, and the idea of being photographed makes my skin crawl.”
Quinton sympathized. “Then perhaps after the reception you can take the wheel.”
“I just might hold you to that.” She climbed in and spent a little time running her hands along the leather before buckling her seat belt.
Amused, Quinton came around to the driver’s side. He didn’t see anyone suspicious on the streets or in the nearby houses, but then he didn’t see the bodyguards either. He only knew they were there because he’d spoken with them before picking up Ashley.
After he turned the key and the engine purred, Ashley asked, “I’ll bet weddings never make you nervous, do they?”
“I’m used to crowds. Right after graduating from college, I lost my parents in a boating accident and inherited the company. I’ve been dealing with large groups, socially and in business, ever since.”
At the mention of his loss, she went very still. “I’m sorry. I guess I never even thought to ask you about your folks.”
And he hadn’t mentioned them because, unlike her, he’d always felt loved by both his mother and father. In comparison to her upbringing, he almost felt guilty. He’d had it all: wealth, love, security… while she’d had nothing.
“It was a long time ago. They were sailing and a bad storm blew in. The boat capsized. My mother drowned. They never recovered her body.”
“Your father?”
“He had a head injury and didn’t recover. After three weeks in the hospital, he passed away.”
Ashley touched his arm, speaking in a soft, unfamiliar tone. “That must have been excruciating for you.”
“It was, yes. Sometimes I still miss them, but Uncle Warren stepped in to finish my education with the firm. I’ve been in front of employees, prospective clients, and target groups enough times that I don’t even think about it anymore. I just do it.”
With the topic deliberately lightened, she gave way to her curiosity. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“No. My parents tried, but they never conceived again after me.”
“What about your uncle? Did he give you any fun cousins?”
“Tw
o, both female, which my uncle claims is why he’s so close to me. The son he never had and all that.” As he spoke, he checked his rearview mirror for any cars that might trail him. He saw no one. “His daughters are both sharks, but they have their own interests. One is a clothing designer, the other a news correspondent. I only see them on the occasional holiday.”
“Impressive family.”
He shrugged. To some they might seem that way. To him they were just terrific relatives whom he enjoyed visiting.
“So you and your uncle get along?”
Her interest pleased Quinton. It was the first time she’d cared enough to ask him about his life, friends, and family. “Most of the time. He’s different from my father. More formal and stiff. Dad was pretty laid-back and easy to be around. He was as happy throwing a football in the backyard with me, as he was running a fast-growing business. He and my mom were in love until the day they died. With Uncle Warren and Aunt Ivana, it sometimes seems like they’re strangers in the same house.”
“They have a bad marriage?”
“I wouldn’t call it bad. It’s as they want it, and they both seem content. But it’s… cold.”
“Your uncle seemed plenty annoyed with you last night.”
“Warren doesn’t like it when his plans are thwarted.”
“His plans being a match between you and some socially acceptable female paragon?”
The way she sneered that showed shades of jealousy. Normally, any sign of possessiveness set him on edge. With Ashley, he chose to see it as strides in the right direction. “You’re going to give yourself wrinkles, frowning like that.”
“Frowning comes naturally to me.”
“I noticed.” He reached for her knee and gave it a squeeze. “But this time it’s not warranted. I wouldn’t have accepted the dinner date even if I hadn’t made prior arrangements to attend the wedding with you.”
“Why not? You don’t like her?”
“I don’t even know her, but I know her type. To get Warren’s approval she’d be fresh out of Yale, a debutante with high aspirations for a career, two perfect children, and an adoring husband, in that order, acquired on a specific timetable. No, thanks.”