Bailey's Irish Dream

by Debby Conrad

  Quinn flipped over onto his side. Maybe he should have stayed at Bailey’s. He could have slept on her sofa. Oh, yeah. The white sofa that didn’t look as if it had ever been sat on, let alone slept on.

  A few moments later a creaking noise alerted him. He sat straight up, keeping his eyes on the doorway. Someone was in the hall. Quinn crept from the bed, looking for a weapon, finally settling on his shoe. Flattening himself against the wall, he waited. And waited. Until he saw an arm reach around the corner. Time to make his move.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Bailey reached around the wall for a light switch, but someone grabbed her by the wrist, stopping her. A scream erupted from her lungs, her heart pounding erratically.

  “Damnit, Bailey!” Quinn’s voice shot out in the dark. Releasing her he flicked on the light. “I could have killed you,” he said waving a white leather sneaker at her.

  Bailey pushed her hair from her face. “How many people have you killed with that shoe?” Quinn clenched his mouth tight and tossed the shoe aside. “How did you know it was me, anyway?” she asked.

  “I know your scent.” Her eyes widened. “Your perfume,” he added, as if that somehow explained everything. She hadn’t realized it was that strong. Maybe she’d worn too much. She sniffed the air delicately, unable to detect the faded aroma.

  He watched her intently, his eyes darkening dangerously. Suddenly, she felt like a fool. Tightening the belt on her white terrycloth robe, she dropped her eyes. That was when she noticed he wasn’t wearing anything except a pair of powder blue boxer shorts.

  Hastily, she raised her eyes and tried to forget his powerful, well-muscled, long, lean torso. Bare torso. And the dark, crisp hair that covered his chest and tapered to a V just above the waistband of his shorts. Good God! Was this what she’d been missing all these years?

  “Do you want to tell me why you’re here? You’re supposed to be next door where your father and brother-in-law can protect you if need be.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest she gave him a look of defiance. “I don’t need anyone to protect me. I can take care of myself.”

  The way he looked at her said he didn’t believe her. Well, too bad. What did he know? She wasn’t afraid of those guys. She’d simply tell them she didn’t know where the diamonds were and to get lost. Maybe she’d buy a big dog too. Something fearful with big, sharp teeth, like a Doberman. And then if they still refused to leave, she’d offer them money--like she’d originally suggested Quinn do. That most certainly would work.

  Quinn picked up his jeans from the floor. “So, why are you here?” he asked again. “If it’s because you’ve been getting more of those urges you had earlier, I won’t bother to put my pants back on.”

  Bailey wondered if he had any idea how irritating he was at times. And that ego of his! As if he were God’s gift to women. “Never mind. This was a stupid idea,” she said, and started to turn away.

  Quinn grabbed her wrist, stopping her. “Wait. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Dropping her wrist, he stepped into his jeans, pulled them over his hips, and zipped up. “I can’t sleep, and I’m a tad cranky.”

  “A tad?” she mumbled, lowering herself to the bed. As soon as she realized where she was sitting, she jumped to her feet.

  As if Quinn had read her mind, he took her by the shoulders and pushed her back down again. “Sit down. I’m not going to bite you,” he said, sitting next to her. “Now, what was so important that you came over here in the middle of the night dressed in your pajamas?” He raked his eyes over her. “You do have pajamas on under there, don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course I do,” she said, pulling the edges of her robe across the tops of her bare legs. “I came over here to thank you for everything you did tonight. I kept trying to get a minute alone with you, but with my family there . . .” She shrugged. “Anyway, the Fajitas were great. And then you cleaned up all the mess too. That wasn’t necessary. I’d really like to repay you.” She looked into his smoldering eyes. “I didn’t mean like that,” she said quickly.

  Quinn smirked. “No, I didn’t think so,” he said, touching her hair. “But it never hurts to be optimistic.”

  He was teasing her. Wasn’t he? Bailey forced a smile. “Well, that’s all I wanted to say.” But when she went to stand, he pulled her down again, his arm coming around her shoulder.

  “Stay for a while.” When her eyes widened, he chuckled, cocked his head to one side and said, “I was hoping you might know a good bedtime story. I’m having trouble falling asleep in this jungle.”

  Bailey glanced at the busy wallpaper. “It is a little much, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, you could say that.” His hand slid down her arm and rib cage. Finding her waist, he squeezed her affectionately.

  He’d showered and shaved recently. His hair was still damp, slicked back away from his forehead. Smelling like soap, he exuded masculinity. Licking her lips, she carefully closed her robe again and twisted her fingers in her lap.

  With his free hand, he wrapped his fingers around hers, stilling them. “What are you so nervous about?”

  “I’m not,” she lied.

  He was too close. Too potent. And she didn’t trust herself around him, she thought, as she brought her mouth closer to his and took the plunge. Oh well, you only live once.

  They both kept their eyes open during the first kiss. After that, well, who could remember? Hers were shut, that’s all she knew. She felt transported on a soft, puffy cloud as he gently eased her down onto the bed. Between parted lips, she whispered, “I should probably go.”

  “Yes, you should,” he agreed, nibbling at her mouth, his hands fumbling with the belt to her robe. Lowering his head, he left a trail of hot, wet kisses on her neck and shoulders. Parting her robe, he smiled appreciatively at her white silky camisole top and matching boxer shorts. “White. I should have known.”

  Raising her top, he skimmed a hand along her flesh, his fingers seeking her breast and finding it. “Your breasts are so beautiful.” With tantalizing possessiveness, he touched his tongue to her nipple and watched her squirm restlessly. “And so responsive to my touch.” Taking her into his mouth deeply, he thoroughly laved and sucked before switching his attention to her other breast.

  Her senses spiraled, and gasps of pleasure escaped her lips. “Oh, Quinn,” she said on a sigh. Her hands caressed the planes of his back, loving the feel of him. She wanted more, so much more. But she didn’t know how to ask.

  As if he understood, his body moved to partially cover hers, her nipples tingling against his hair-roughened chest. His erection pressed against her pelvis through the soft denim of his jeans. He thrust against her. Once, twice. And then he slid downward, his tongue weaving a path toward her navel and lower. With his help, her silk shorts magically fell away from her body, leaving her exposed and vulnerable to his appreciative gaze.

  Dropping to the floor on his knees, he spoke softly. “You’re more beautiful than I ever imagined.”

  His fingers teased her, exploring her most private area, until she thought she’d die. “Quinn, please,” she begged.

  He held her wrists at her sides, imprisoning her. “Shhhh. I’m going to make it all better now,” he said, lowering his mouth to place a gentle kiss in the center of her being.

  “Omigod!” Her hips arched off the bed, her hands grabbing at the crisp white sheets, pulling, tugging. She’d never felt anything so erotic.

  She heard him breathe deeply and exhale slowly. “I love the way you smell,” he whispered. “Now, I want to taste you.” With his tongue, he teased her, plied her, wielded her to him. Her body felt like warm, soft putty, her legs opening wide, inviting him in. His tongue delved deeper and deeper, until a hot fire spread within, clouding her brain and sending her over the edge in ecstasy.

  “Oh, God, Quinn!” she breathed, completely, and deliciously, spent.

  Still he continued to drink from her, refusing to relent. “One more time, Bailey. Come for me, o
nce more.”

  Her body began to vibrate with liquid fire as a second orgasm burst from her and she screamed his name with delight. As soon as the flames began to ebb, Quinn joined her on the bed, cradling her head in the crook of his neck and shoulder. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she started to tremble. She’d never felt like this before.

  Tilting her chin back, he looked at her. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, hiding her face in the warmth of his neck and breathing in the clean smell of him.

  “Then, why are you crying?”

  “I’m not,” she said on a sob, her body convulsing of its own free will.

  “Don’t lie, Bailey. Look at me.”

  Sniffing back a tear, she slowly raised her head. He was so beautiful. The concern in his eyes, on his face. She lowered her mouth and kissed his chin. And at that moment, she knew she’d fallen in love with him.

  It wasn’t the same kind of love she’d felt before. This was different. Special. Not affection, or infatuation. But deep, true, everlasting love, if there really was such a thing. She felt it deep in her soul. And she knew she could never resist this man anything.

  But something happened to Quinn when he looked at her. Something that had him springing to his feet. He massaged the back of his neck, pacing the bedroom floor, refusing to look at her. “Bailey, I’m sorry. What happened between us . . .” He paused, then said, “That should never have happened.”

  “It’s okay. I’m not crying because I regret what happened. I’m crying because I’m happy.”

  He glanced her way. “Happy?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “Well, yeah, I guess you should be happy. If you like being taken advantage of.” There was an edge to his voice. “Look, I’m trying very hard to control myself here. And with you, uh . . .” He gestured toward her. “Could you get dressed, please?”

  “Why?” she asked, suddenly confused. “Aren’t we going to make love?”

  His whole body went rigid. “Jesus, Bailey. You’re a virgin!” He glanced up at the ceiling, ran his hands through his hair. “God, what was I thinking? I had no business doing what I just did. Now, please,” he stressed, “put your . . . bottoms on, and I’ll walk you home.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to go home. Maybe I want to spend the night. With you.”

  Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, his face growing taut with tension. He opened his eyes, took one look at her and shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You can’t stay here. You know what would happen if you stayed here.”

  Bailey stood, went to him and draped her arms around his waist. “Of course, I know what will happen. I’m not a child, Quinn. And it’s okay. I want to make love with you.” His body stiffened in response. Lifting her head, she said, “I love you.”

  He dislodged her arms from his sides, and moved away from her, as if she’d just told him she had some contagious disease. “You don’t know what you’re saying. What happened had nothing to do with love. I gave you an orgasm. That’s all.”

  “Two,” she said, feeling as though she’d been slapped. Quickly she belted her robe and turned away from him, hearing his breath expel behind her.

  “Okay, two,” he murmured. “Look, Bailey, forgive me for saying so, but I’m not the first guy you’ve claimed to have fallen in love with.”

  Spinning on her heel, she lifted her chin, ignoring the tears blinding her eyes and choking her voice. “So, I don’t know my own heart. Is that what you’re trying to say?”

  “Well, yeah,” he said, seemingly unmoved by her emotions. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to say.”

  She listened with rising dismay, a flash of wild grief ripping through her. But it wasn’t the words he’d spoken that tore at her heart. It was the fact that he didn’t love her. Feeling humiliated and angry with herself, she refused to back down. Holding her head high, she looked him square in the eye and laughed.

  Quinn frowned. “What’s so funny?”

  “You,” she said accusingly. “You didn’t actually think I was serious, did you?”

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I did.”

  She waved a hand at him. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Quinn! For a man who’s obviously been around the block a few times, you certainly are gullible.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her, rocked back on his heels, and looked at her intently. “Uh, huh.”

  “Stop flattering yourself. It’s just an expression. It doesn’t mean anything. Haven’t you ever said it at the heat of the moment, and not really meant it?”

  “Maybe. But the heat of the moment was long gone when you said it.”

  “Yes, well. I’m new at this. Remember?” Shrugging, she said, “It was just an orgasm. Get over it. I have.”

  “It was two orgasms.” He moved toward her, touched her hair, gazed into her eyes. “And you’re a liar, Bailey.” With that he stormed out of the bedroom without a backward glance.

  Bailey sank onto the bed. He was right. She was a liar. With a shiver of vivid recollection, she thought of what had just happened. The way he’d held her trembling body afterward, the way he’d looked at her with concern and tenderness. And then she’d gone and ruined everything. Swallowing hard, she bit back the threatening tears, feeling an acute sense of loss.

  Hugging her arms around her, she closed her eyes and rocked gently back and forth until she got herself under control. Reaching for her silk boxers, she slipped them on, left the room and, hopefully, the sweet memories behind.

  * * * * * * * * * *

  Quinn waited for Bailey at the bottom of the steps. She refused to look at him as she brushed past him. Which was fine. He didn’t want to look at her either. That was the reason he hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights downstairs. With the glow of the aquarium, he could find his way around easy enough.

  He’d been serious when he accused her of not knowing her own heart, as she’d put it. She didn’t love him. She couldn’t possibly love him. Hell, she’d only known him for two days.

  He’d given her an orgasm--two orgasms--he thought, remembering the way she’d shuddered and screamed his name the second time. And it was probably the first time she’d ever had one. She’d probably felt so grateful afterward, she’d mistaken it for love. That was all.

  Although moments later, she’d tried to deny her feelings. But Quinn had seen right through her. Standing there, looking so smug. Well, she didn’t fool him.

  Quinn followed Bailey out the front door, hurrying to keep up with her as she made her way through the yards. They were both barefoot. The grass was damp and cold, but she didn’t seem to notice. When she reached the front porch of her house, she opened the door and stepped inside.

  “Bailey,” he said, not really sure what he wanted to say to her, but knowing he didn’t want to just walk away.

  She turned around, faced him, and waited, her eyelashes still damp from her tears. When he didn’t say anything, she smiled coolly and said, “Well, thanks for the . . . you know.” And then, she shut the door in his face.

  Quinn snorted and shook his head in disbelief, cursing the day he’d met Bailey Maguire. He wasn’t sure how long he stood in the wet grass, staring at her house, but long enough that the hems of his jeans were soggy. When he finally realized how foolish he must look, he headed back to Davenport’s.

  He let himself in through the front door and locked it. Although he didn’t know why he’d bothered. Everybody and their brother knew there was a key under the front mat.

  He was wide awake. How in hell was he supposed to fall asleep now? he wondered. Rather than return to his bed, he headed for the kitchen. Maybe Davenport had some decaf. Flipping on the light he found Doyle Maguire sitting at the table, dressed in navy plaid pajamas and a dark green robe, and wearing a long face.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” He hoped the man hadn’t come to throw another punch at his face.

  When Doyle didn’t answer immediately, Quinn’s stomach dropped. Had the man possibly heard what Quinn h
ad been doing to Bailey a few moments ago? Quinn suddenly felt sick inside.

  “Mimi threw me out,” Doyle finally said.

  Raising his brows, Quinn dropped into a chair, feeling relieved. “Oh,” he said, releasing his breath.

  “That’s it? Oh?” Doyle sputtered.

  What did the guy want him to say?

  “I saw you walking Bailey home. I hid behind a bush on the side of the house and waited until she went inside. Then I let myself in.”

  “Yeah,” Quinn said, feeling uneasy. “She came over to thank me for making dinner.”

  “Her phone not working?” he asked sarcastically.

  Taking the defensive, Quinn asked, “What’s that got to do with why you’re here?”

  “I told you. Mimi threw me out.” He looked at Quinn and frowned. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t care about me and my problems.” After a moment, he stood. “You mind if I make myself a drink?” he said, looking at the portable bar on wheels in the corner.

  “Help yourself,” Quinn said. “It’s not my liquor.”

  Doyle went to the bar and poured himself a hefty amount of Irish whiskey.

  “So,” Quinn said, “where are you going to go?”

  “What do you mean?” Doyle asked, taking a sip of his drink, and leaning against the dark green kitchen counter. His robe was almost the exact same color.

  Quinn had seen enough jungle green to last him a lifetime, he thought, suddenly appreciating Bailey’s white rooms. “I mean, where are you going to sleep?”

  “I’m going to sleep here. Where did you think I was going to sleep?”

  Jumping to his feet, Quinn said, “No way! You’re not staying in my house.”

  “This isn’t your house. Remember?” Doyle looked at Quinn, showing no signs of relenting. “And besides, you have plenty of bedrooms here.”

  Quinn blew out an exasperated breath. “Why me?” After a moment, he gave in. “Fine. You can have the master bedroom.” Let him try to sleep with all those animal heads staring at him.