Her Best Friend

by Sarah Mayberry

  “I threw a muffin at him.”

  “A muffin.”

  “Yes. Apple and cinnamon. It was in my hand, and he’d scared me so much. I just…I called out, and he turned around. And I threw it at him.”

  Quinn’s face was utterly impassive. “Where did it hit him?”

  She touched herself on the forehead. A muscle flexed in Quinn’s jaw.

  “I was going to tell you. Tonight. Over a nice bottle of wine.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. Then he reread the cover letter and flicked through the attached pages. He looked grim. And furious.

  “Am I in big trouble?” she asked.

  “Let’s see. You accosted a well-known local businessman in the street and publicly accused him of hiring criminals to vandalize your property. You insulted him. Then you threw a missile at his head. What do you think?”

  “Maybe if I apologized…?” It might be enough to appease Ulrich. It would be hard to make herself sound sincere, but she’d do it for the Grand.

  “He doesn’t want your apology, Amy. He wants to break you. He wants to suck your bank account dry so you have no choice but to sell him the Grand. There’s no way he’s going to accept an apology. He will play this out till it ends up in court and you’re charged with every legal fee and damage he can throw your way.”

  She stared into Quinn’s angry face. He wasn’t exaggerating. He was simply telling her what she had suspected the moment she calmed down enough to realize what she’d done. She’d screwed up. Big time.

  “Why do you think I told you to stay away from him? Did you need me to spell it out to you? I told you he was the kind of guy who’d use anything you did against him. And still you went out and handed him your own head on a silver platter.”

  Quinn threw the letter away as though he couldn’t bear to look at it a moment longer.

  “You should have just given him the keys to the Grand. Saved yourself a few years and thousands of dollars.”

  He had more to say, but it faded to white noise as the full reality sunk in. A huge wave of dizziness hit her. In all the years of saving and bargaining and scheming to make the Grand hers, she’d never doubted that she would succeed. She’d simply refused to accept that it would be any other way. She’d been unshakable.

  But she couldn’t see a way out now. Even if Quinn agreed to represent her for free, there would be court costs and other expenses. By the time Ulrich had finished with her, she’d be broke. And she would lose the Grand.

  The edges of her vision went blurry. She was in real danger of passing out. How very damsel-in-distress of her.

  She bent her knees, stretching out a hand to find the floor as it rose up to meet her. She landed on her ass with a thump. Her knees came up instinctively and she put her head between her legs, panting as though she’d run a race.

  “Amy.” Quinn’s voice seemed to come from very far away.

  She couldn’t get enough air, even though she was breathing like a bellows.

  “Amy, calm down. It’ll be okay.”

  He was on his knees beside her, a concerned look on his face.

  It wasn’t going to be okay. She could see it all now, Ulrich smiling smugly as she signed the papers to give him the Grand, could practically hear the wrecking ball smashing into the building.

  “I’m sorry for yelling,” Quinn said. “I freaked out for a moment, but we’re good. We’ll work this out, okay?”

  She shook her head. Tried to explain despite the fact she was hyperventilating. “You’re right…should have kept my mouth shut…wanted to prove…I wasn’t afraid. Just…shot myself in the foot.”

  Quinn put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake.

  “Listen to me. We can fix this.” She shook her head again and he squeezed her shoulders. “We can, Amy. We’ll find a way. I promise. You won’t lose the Grand. I never should have said that.”

  Her breathing slowed. She peered up at him, wanting to believe him so badly but desperately afraid of the future she’d seen laid out before her.

  He held her gaze, his own absolutely steady and certain. “Have I ever let you down, Ames?”

  She stared at him, their faces a few feet apart. The only time Quinn had ever disappointed her was when he’d chosen Lisa instead of her. And she’d never blamed him for that. He was the best friend a person could have, bar none. A man in a million.

  And she’d tried to excise him from her life because she couldn’t get over her own jealousy and frustration.

  Her eyes widened. For a moment she was stunned as the full enormity of her own stupidity and selfishness hit her. She’d almost pushed this good, loving, amazing man out of her life.

  She made an inarticulate noise. Fueled by guilt and regret and love and gratitude, she launched herself at him. Her body hit his with enough force to make him grunt as she flung her arms around his neck, her face finding his shoulder. For a moment they teetered off balance, then her momentum tipped him over. He landed on his back, her arms still clamped around his neck, her body sprawled on top of his.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her words muffled by his T-shirt. “You deserve so much better. I’m so sorry. I’ve been so stupid. So bloody stupid.”

  Their legs were tangled, her breasts flattened against his chest. One of Quinn’s hands warmed the middle of her back, the other found the nape of her neck.

  “Ames, you don’t need to apologize to me. Like I said, we’ll work this out. Ulrich is trying to scare you, and I shouldn’t have let him get to me.”

  He didn’t understand. Had no idea what she’d tried to do.

  “I don’t deserve you,” she said. “You’ve always been such a good friend to me.”

  “You’ve been a good friend to me, too, Ames. The best.”

  His deep voice vibrated through her with every word. She could feel his chest rising and falling with each breath. She lifted her head to look into his eyes. He looked back at her, a small, sweet smile curving his lips.

  “You’re my bud. Always were, always will be.”

  She could see all the tiny individual bristles of his beard. His eyes were very dark, rich as bittersweet chocolate. His mouth was mere inches from hers, his breath fanning her face. For the first time she fully registered the fact that she was lying on top of him, hip to hip, chest to chest.

  Like a lover.

  She could feel the hard, hot resilience of his body beneath hers, could smell his skin, his aftershave. Awareness flooded her, sending heat up into her face and down between her thighs.

  She hadn’t been this close to him for years. Not since they were kids.

  Suddenly her heart was pounding for an entirely different reason. Her gaze dropped to his mouth.

  If ever there was a moment of temptation, this was it. If ever she was going to press her lips to his, touch him, move her body against his in the way that she’d dreamed so many, many times, this was it. All she had to do was close the small distance between them and lower her mouth to his. Kiss him. Run her tongue over his lips. Taste him. Give in to sixteen years of desire and need.

  You’re my bud. Always were, always will be.

  His words echoed in her mind and she forced herself to listen to them, absorb them. If she kissed Quinn, there was a very good chance that he would be appalled. Shocked. Embarrassed.

  It was enough to make her start to withdraw. Then she remembered the discussion she’d had with her mother last night.

  Some smart woman will snap him up. And it won’t take long, either.

  “Ames?” Quinn’s mouth curled into a curious half smile.

  She took a shaky breath. Was she really going to let him slip through her fingers a second time? Was she really prepared to love him from afar for years and never, ever take a chance? Even if that chance carried with it an enormous risk of rejection and loss?

  He was lying beneath her right now, six foot plus of hard, warm male. And she was sick of not knowing. Of wanting and not having.

 
; It was now or never.

  Now.

  Or never.

  Her heart pounding, Amy closed her eyes.

  Then she lowered her head and kissed her best friend.

  QUINN’S HEART SLAMMED against his rib cage as Amy’s mouth pressed against his. For a crazy second he didn’t know what was happening, then her tongue grazed his lower lip and a shiver of pure need tightened his body.

  His instinctive response was to open his mouth and kiss her back. Slide his tongue along hers, taste her. Pull her body closer. But this was Amy.

  Amy, for God’s sake.

  His hands found her shoulders, but he didn’t know what to do. Push her away? Pull her closer?

  Then suddenly she was gone, rolling away from him. She landed on her belly beside him, her face pressed into her hands.

  What the hell had just happened?

  “Ames…?”

  He reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder. She tensed. A long moment passed. Then her shoulders lifted beneath his hand as she took a deep breath.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know—I didn’t mean for that to happen,” she said, her voice so choked it was almost inaudible.

  “Amy. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. That was…dumb.” She shook her head. “Let’s just pretend this never happened.”

  He laughed, even though he was far from amused. He’d spent the last few days feeling like a sick puppy for getting hot over his best friend, and now she wanted him to forget she’d kissed him?

  “Not likely, Ames.”

  She started to scramble to her feet but he sat up and caught her arm.

  “Hang on a minute. You can’t stick your tongue down my throat then make a run for it.”

  She crouched awkwardly beside him, anchored by his hand on her arm. Her face was averted, her gaze fixed on the floor as though she was afraid to look at him.

  “It was a mistake.”

  Maybe. Almost definitely. But he still needed to know why it had happened. Why now, after all these years?

  He caught her chin with his free hand, forcing her to make eye contact with him.

  “Why?”

  “You’re a smart guy. Work it out.”

  “I don’t want to guess. I want to know.”

  The look she gave him was tortured. “Please…”

  Part of him felt like an ass for forcing an answer from her, but his gut told him this was important. Vital, even.

  “Tell me.”

  Her jaw muscle flexed beneath his hand. She closed her eyes for a long beat. Then she opened them and looked straight into his eyes.

  “Haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like? The two of us, together?”

  He stared at her. For a moment his mind was a perfect blank.

  Color flooded Amy’s face. He could feel the embarrassed heat of it beneath his fingers.

  “See? I told you it was dumb.”

  She tried to pull away from him again but he didn’t release his grip.

  “Let me go. I told you—”

  “Yes,” he said. “The answer is yes.”

  She stilled. He’d shocked her. Well, she’d shocked him.

  Somewhere, in the back of his brain, a voice was screaming out a warning. Something about there being no turning back from this moment.

  He could barely hear it over the thumping of his heart. Amy was attracted to him. She’d thought about the two of them together. Skin to skin. Him inside her.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth. How many times had he studied it over the past few days? Wondered what she would taste like, how she would feel? How many times had he dreamed about her in that long-ago summer when they were both fourteen?

  He stroked his fingers along the delicate line of her jaw.

  “Amy,” he said, his voice very low.

  She made a small sound in the back of her throat. He slid his hand around to palm the nape of her neck. Her gaze dropped to his mouth.

  Time slowed as he pulled her gently toward him.

  Her lips parted.

  Then his lips were on hers. Moving over them, learning the shape of her, the feel of her. Soft and full. Silk and velvet. She opened her mouth to him and their tongues touched for the first time. She tasted good, sweet and hot.

  He wanted more. Much more. He drove his fingers into the hair at the base of her skull and held her head in the palm of his hand as he explored her mouth with his. Her hands found his chest, clutching his T-shirt, the fabric biting into the back of his neck as she dragged him closer.

  Closer was good. Closer was what he wanted, too. He spread his free hand on her hip, pulling her down with him as he sank to the floor. A wave of pure heat rolled through him as her weight settled over him. He slid his hand onto the roundness of her backside, his fingers curving to her shape as he pulled her against the hardness of his erection.

  “Quinn,” she breathed, her hips circling against him.

  His hands were shaking as he found the waistband of her sweater. He wanted so much, needed so much, he didn’t know where to begin. He smoothed his palm up her warm belly. He cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple through the silk of her bra. She quivered like a plucked guitar string, her breath coming in desperate little pants.

  He rolled so that she was beneath him, ignoring the ache of protest from his bruised ribs. He was so far beyond pain it wasn’t funny. She spread her legs to create a cradle for his hips and he lost his mind for a minute as he pressed his hard-on into the heated juncture of her thighs.

  He reached for the hem of her sweater and pushed it up over her breasts, then shoved her bra up, too, finesse be damned. She was a study in pink and cream, so pretty and sexy it hurt to look at her.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured, then he lowered his head and pulled one of her pouty little nipples into his mouth.

  She gasped and gripped his shoulders.

  “Quinn.”

  Her hands slid across his back, his chest, his ass. Then she was sliding a hand between their bodies and smoothing her palm up and down the swollen length of his erection through the denim of his jeans.

  His breath hissed between his teeth. He wanted to be inside her. He wanted to feel her slick and firm around him. His hand found the stud on her jeans, popping it open. She lifted her hips encouragingly as he found the tab on her zipper and tugged it down. Her belly trembled as he slid his hand beneath the elastic of her panties. His fingers caressed silky hair then slid into slick heat.

  His gut clenched as he felt how incredibly wet she was. He traced her intimate folds, then slid a finger inside her. She tightened around him, sexy and hot, her hips lifting off the floor as he stroked in and out of her.

  “Amy.”

  “Hurry. Please.”

  He reached for his belt buckle, tugged it free. Her hands found his zipper and pulled it down. Then she was inside his underwear, stroking her hand up and down his shaft, her thumb caressing the head of his penis.

  He shuddered, his whole body tensing. He started to peel her jeans away from her hips. Five more seconds and he’d be inside her, inside all that tight, wet heat, his—

  “Amy? Hello?”

  They both froze.

  “Shit,” Amy whispered.

  It was her mom. They stared at each other, their bodies slick and steamy with lust. Amy was flushed, her nipples still tight and wet from his mouth. Her mouth was swollen, her eyes hazy with need.

  “Amy? Is there anybody here or am I just talking to myself?”

  They heard the scuff of footsteps, then the distinct sound of someone climbing the stairs.

  “She’s coming up here!” Amy hissed.

  They rolled away from each other, Amy jerking her bra and sweater down while he struggled with his zipper and belt buckle. They’d barely scrambled to their feet when Mrs. Parker crossed the upper foyer and entered the balcony.

  “THERE YOU ARE. Didn’t you hear me calling?” Amy’s mother asked.

  Amy resisted the urg
e to check her fly was closed, even though she couldn’t one hundred percent remember zipping it up.

  “Mom. Hi. Um, no, Quinn and I were busy discussing a thing.”

  Her mother’s gaze went from Amy to Quinn and back again.

  “How are you doing, Mrs. P.?” Quinn said.

  “I’m fine, thanks, Quinn. Thought I should pop in and check how things are going down here.”

  “Things are going well. Really well. We’re getting lots done,” Amy said.

  She risked a glance at Quinn. His hair was mussed and his T-shirt rumpled, the fabric strategically bunched in front of his crotch. He looked as though he’d rolled out of bed. Which, in a way, he had.

  I rumpled that hair. I gave him the hard-on he’s hiding beneath that T-shirt.

  It was almost inconceivable, and yet it had happened. Her heart was still pounding, her body still throbbing with need. Quinn had wanted her.

  Quinn.

  Her wildest dream come true.

  Her mother shifted the strap of her handbag higher on her shoulder. “When do you think you’ll be ready to paint?”

  Out of the corner of her eye Amy saw Quinn stoop to collect Ulrich’s letter from the floor.

  “Soon. We need to finish prepping the walls. I was hoping to have it done over the next few days,” Amy said.

  Quinn cleared his throat. “Ames, I might leave you two to catch up for a bit. I’ve got some business to take care of.”

  His face was shuttered, utterly unreadable.

  “Um, sure.”

  He nodded to her mother, then turned and headed for the archway to the upper foyer. She stared after him.

  “Amy?”

  Her mother’s words jolted her focus back into the room. Amy blinked, turned to her mother.

  “Sorry?”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I told you. We’re still prepping the walls.”

  Her mother crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t come down in the last shower. I know what I walked in on.”

  “Mom, nothing’s going on.”

  Her mother sighed heavily. “All right. Keep it to yourself. But just remember, Quinn’s going through a difficult time right now.”

  “I know that.”