by Caro Carson
The billiards table had been converted into a conference table courtesy of a custom-made wood top Quinn had always admired. Matching club chairs, handmade to be just the right height, were drawn up to the table. All eight of them. But Diana made nine.
Quinn made a small gesture toward the single empty chair as he skewered Patricia with a look.
“So with these new tracking projections, New Orleans is breathing easier, but the Texas coast is not,” Karen said.
Patricia stood and walked over to one of the captain’s chairs that sat around the low poker table. Quinn joined her, and picked up a chair to move it closer. It was too short, but there was no other choice. He’d use it.
“Where are everyone else’s guests?” he asked Patricia under his breath. The pool deck lay just outside the billiards room, but the only person he could see out there was a staff member setting rolled towels on the vacant chairs.
“Marcel took them out on the sailboat. You just missed them.”
Quinn felt no need to hide his displeasure. “You couldn’t have waited ten minutes to send them off? Diana’s now the odd man out.”
“Are you her babysitter or her paramour? Surely she can handle the disappointment of missing a boat ride.”
In the split-second before Quinn could set her straight, Patricia, very wisely, backpedaled. “I’ll fix it, Quinn. Take the chair.”
Karen sounded distressed as she concluded her update. “Four of the five weather service models are projecting landfall on Monday.” She paused to look around the table. “And we’re understaffed.”
Patricia addressed the room. “Then I’m so glad Quinn brought an extra set of hands. Does everyone know Diana Connor?”
With that, Patricia “fixed it” by forcing Diana to participate in the meeting for the next half hour. To Quinn, it was like watching a master class in how to be bitchy without actually saying anything rude. It started with Patricia moving her papers graciously so that Diana could have her chair, keeping her far enough away that Quinn couldn’t speak to her on the side. Patricia used the short captain’s chair, if standing in front of it counted as using it. That seemed generous of her, but it wasn’t. From her standing position, Patricia easily took over the meeting from the seated director. Karen was no match for Patricia.
Diana seemed hopeful that the weekend would be cut short. “If you need the hospital to open on Tuesday, then will you go down now to set up, before the storm hits?”
Patricia answered in a perfectly civil way, but there was something nasty about her explanation that Quinn couldn’t put his finger on. “Going down today or tomorrow puts us in the path of the storm. We can’t handle casualties if we put ourselves in a position to become casualties. Besides, my volunteers will need to use Monday to arrange their schedules. Doctors cannot just leave their practices with no notice. I do hope your job is not as demanding.”
“I hope so, too,” Karen said. “I’d love for her to come with us.”
Quinn decided he liked the new director, no matter what Patricia’s issue with her was.
Diana declined. “I don’t think I’d be very good in a crisis.”
“Please, join us,” Patricia said. “I’m sure we can use your help.”
And...bitchy Patricia was back. Quinn could just tell. Damn it, he needed to intervene, but how did he intervene against politeness?
Patricia referred to a document in her hand. “We were looking at our areas of personnel shortage earlier this week. What can you do? I need nurses—no. Medical assistant—no. Are you CPR certified? We’d need to have an actual certification on file by Tuesday. No?”
Karen interrupted, looking as uncomfortable as the others around the table. “There is always a need for clerical work.”
“Oh, yes,” Patricia agreed. “Let’s see. Have you any experience as a comptroller? Have you ever worked in a pharmacy? Perhaps you could alphabetize the medicines.”
Diana never stopped smiling. She never showed any distress. But Diana, apparently, had had enough.
“Alphabetizing,” Patricia repeated. “Shall I put you down for that?”
“That depends,” Diana said, “on whether or not you need my alphabet certification on file by Tuesday. Kindergartens require more notice than one working day to send a transcript.”
Chapter Sixteen
“You handled yourself beautifully.”
“I offended our host.” Diana thought Quinn was a little too proud of her for being less than a gracious guest.
“Your host offended you first. It was perfectly fair to hit back.”
The meeting had dragged on for hours, but now the fun was supposed to begin. They’d come to their assigned bedroom to change clothes, so they were talking while Quinn wore surfer’s board shorts and she wore an orange bikini. It was a strange way to have a discussion on ethics.
“I was taught to turn the other cheek,” she said.
“You did turn it. Patricia wasn’t going to stop until you made her. Think of her as the one dog that annoys the rest for no good reason. You made her sit and be quiet for a moment.” He leaned against the footboard of the king-size bed and shook his head as he watched her brush her hair. “I can’t believe your bathing suit happened to be in the monkey luggage. If it had been lost with the banana bag, we’d have the perfect excuse to skip Patricia’s idea of a pool party.”
“I’m not going to do anything else to hurt her feelings.” In fact, Diana had spent every minute since her smart-alecky exchange trying to prove that she was normally a nice person. She’d run up the stairs and out to Karen’s car to fetch some paperwork for her. When the other guests had come back from their sail around the lake, she’d shaken hands cheerfully and even brought a few thirsty guests some drinks.
“You did a great job defending yourself. How should we celebrate?”
Quinn scooped her up and tossed her on their bed, then followed by diving onto the mattress next to her, landing on his stomach like some kind of crazed baseball player sliding headfirst into home base. “We’re both horizontal and nearly naked. Got any ideas?”
He was darned adorable when he was playful like that, but the man was so not getting to home base. Not now, at least.
“Everyone is out by the pool,” Diana said, giving his shoulder a push, as if she could make a two-hundred-pound man roll off a bed.
“Good. They won’t miss us.”
“Patricia wants us to enjoy the water before dinner. You guys have a hard week ahead of you.” It wasn’t in Diana to deliberately offend someone who was trying to make sure others had a good time. If Patricia wanted everyone to enjoy themselves by the pool, then Diana wouldn’t, couldn’t refuse to go.
Quinn obviously did not feel obliged to be so obliging. He began kissing Diana, skipping her mouth and her neck and her breasts to start with her soft stomach, exposed as it was in her bikini. Her soft, ticklish stomach. Diana began to giggle and push harder at his shoulder.
There was a knock at the bedroom door, followed by Patricia’s voice. “Hello? Is it safe to come in?”
“No,” Quinn hollered.
The doorknob turned, anyway, and Diana scrambled off the bed.
The door itself only opened a few inches. “I thought since my guest had lost her luggage, she might need a maillot.”
Diana wasn’t sure what a “My Yo” was, but then a slender hand reached through the crack and dropped a white bunch of material onto the floor.
“See you in a few.” The door shut.
Quinn cursed, and he sounded halfway serious.
Diana picked up the white material and held it up to herself. It looked for all the world like a one-piece bathing suit to her, but it was a maillot. And it was clearly too big.
“It’s a good thing I’ve got safety pins.”
Quinn h
ad rolled to his back and tucked his hands behind his head. “You are not wearing that. Your bathing suit looks great.”
At her hesitation, he sat up. “Seriously, your bathing suit looks great. Why would you put on one that doesn’t fit?”
“When someone tries to do something nice for you,” she began carefully, thinking it through as she said it out loud, “the only proper response is ‘thank you,’ and to accept it.”
“That sounds like one of your mottos. Your mother’s?” He asked the question while looking at her so intently, she felt defensive for no real reason.
“She left me an etiquette book. It’s in there.”
Quinn stared at her a minute longer. “Let me tell you what’s not in the etiquette book. Some people might give you a gift to manipulate you. And as strange as it may seem to you, some people will like you better if you see right through them and refuse to play along with their demands. Patricia respects you for the way you fielded her certification garbage today.”
Diana wondered if Quinn was aware that he knew Patricia so well. Someday, he’d see what was under his nose, and Patricia would effortlessly fit into his life as his lover instead of his friend.
Until then, Patricia was Quinn’s friend and Diana’s hostess for the weekend, two good reasons for Diana to play nice.
“If you want to do her a favor, then don’t fawn all over her.” Quinn got off the bed. “Let’s hit the pool before you cave in to her machinations. I will definitely be unhappy if you take off that orange bikini. No—that’s not true. I’d love to see you take it off. But not at the pool. You know what I mean.”
Diana laughed, but a brilliant idea had just hit her. She hadn’t given Patricia that ridiculously expensive bottle of champagne yet. She could catch her and present it as a peace offering.
“You go out to the pool. I’ll be right there.”
* * *
Diana didn’t want to walk around the house in nothing but a bikini, so she wore Quinn’s dress shirt as a cover-up. After pulling the flower-painted bottle from her suitcase, she looked out the bedroom window toward the pool deck, but she didn’t see Patricia. She headed up the stairs to the middle level, where the kitchen flowed into the rest of the living space.
Women were talking in the kitchen. Diana hesitated on the stairs. Their voices were not muffled at all, but sounded amplified by the granite countertops and polished stone floors.
“Don’t you think it’s time for you to seduce Quinn? Please? That girl has got to go.”
Diana couldn’t identify the speaker by her voice, but she recognized Patricia when she answered.
“If I sleep with him, then I’ll be just like you. And Bethany Valrez. And all the others. You played the short game.”
“That’s the only game there is with him. It’s a very enjoyable game, too. I don’t know what you’re waiting for, but I won’t be able to stand having her around for the rest of the year. Do us all a favor and make your move.”
Diana sagged against the banister, clutching the champagne to her chest. She was less shocked to hear that everyone expected Patricia to be with Quinn than she was to hear that Quinn had once been lovers with one of the other women. How did they stay so perfectly civilized? For the rest of her life, after she and Quinn broke up, if Diana ran into Quinn anywhere, she would blush ten shades of red and not be able to look him in the eye.
Patricia addressed her kitchen buddies like she was running another planning committee. “I’m in it for the long game. I mean more to him precisely because I haven’t slept with him. When the whole game is over, I’ll be the last one standing.”
“Game over? You think he’s ready for marriage?” This, from a third woman.
The first woman followed up. “If you think you can bring him to the altar, more power to you, but would you hurry it up? That house in Catalina will be available in October, and the guys are willing to go. If Quinn brings her, I’ll gag.”
“She’s the last hurrah for his bachelorhood.” Patricia sounded confident. “His brothers are married now. That always spooks a man at first, so he’s chosen someone totally inappropriate. Someone he’d never settle down with.”
Diana bit her lip, adding a little physical pain to the hurtful words. Patricia would be shocked to know that Diana agreed with her. She’d always known she wasn’t a good match for Quinn, but hearing Patricia say Quinn wanted her precisely because of that made it worse.
The Catalina woman was still impatient. “I cannot be seen with a girl who wears glitter on her feet and plastic jewels on her boobs.”
“I’ll be engaged to Quinn within six months, mark my word. But I’ve got to let him overdose on her first. He won’t appreciate it if I chase her away. I’m throwing them together as often as possible, in every situation. He’ll be embarrassed by her sooner or later.”
“Sooner, if I know you.”
“By October, please.”
Diana sat on the step. It cut to the bone to hear how very little the other women wanted her around. She’d been so naive, thinking that Patricia was like the high-spirited Dalmatian at the animal shelter, the one who’d pushed to be in charge constantly. That dog had never calculated how to cause the downfall of any human it knew.
Anger set in, pushing the hurt aside. She’d complimented Patricia on the house, the view, the food. She’d thanked Patricia for her hospitality, when she’d been invited only so that Quinn would see her as a misfit.
To know that the other women wanted her to make a fool of herself was infuriating. How friendly had she been to them today? Diana had memorized their names. She’d brought them glasses of water. They’d kept her hopping, no doubt hoping that Quinn would see her as some kind of underling.
She should leave. It would take courage, but it would be the right thing to do, to simply return home. In a situation this negative, what could she possibly gain by staying?
She’d make up some excuse, something to keep Quinn from being embarrassed when his date left the weekend party early. She’d get in her green Bug and drive away.
And leave him behind, with all these nasty people?
It was exactly what they wanted.
For once in her life, Diana didn’t want to make people happy.
Screw them.
Those two ugly words felt kind of perfect. Diana gripped her champagne bottle by the neck, stood, and marched up the stairs. She walked into the kitchen, head high, the tails of Quinn’s dress shirt fluttering behind her, and started opening cabinet doors, looking for the champagne flutes.
“Can I help you find something?” Patricia asked, in a tone so helpful, it was hard to believe it was a lie.
“Champagne flutes.” She held up the bottle. “This is Quinn’s favorite. I thought we’d make ourselves scarce for a little while. You know.”
Patricia could have her “turn” some other time in the far, far future. Diana wanted to make it clear that for this weekend, Quinn was hers.
Patricia thought Quinn would hate an overdose of her? Diana almost laughed at the thought. He was going to love every minute.
“Oh, honey. That’s not the same thing we were drinking at the gala.”
Patricia reached for the bottle. Diana let it go only to avoid a demeaning tug of war.
“Good Lord, it’s warm,” Patricia said, and Diana saw her make a face of horror at one of her friends. She opened the glass-fronted wine refrigerator and pulled out another champagne bottle. It was also painted with flowers. “Let me help you. These come from the same maison, but they are hardly equal.”
She set the bottles on the counter, side by side, but had barely started a lecture about champagnes that did or did not have vintage years on their labels, when Quinn came into the kitchen.
Everyone stopped staring at Diana and looked at him.
After a brief
, frozen moment, Quinn looked at Diana and started to smile, one slow, sexy smile that took its time spreading over his face. Only then did he walk up to her.
“You are just the woman I wanted to see.”
* * *
Quinn didn’t know precisely what he’d walked into, but Diana looked a little pale and tight-lipped. It had taken him a fraction of a second to put the details together. One, he’d seen her look like that once before, after she’d gotten angry in her pink kitchen. Two, the other women in the kitchen were all angled toward her like a pack of hunting dogs. Three against one.
He was sure there’d been one of those mysterious female showdowns. Quinn didn’t like the odds Diana had been facing. He hoped his deliberate smile and the way he stood next to her made it clear that he was on her side.
She looked so damned desirable in his shirt, it took him a moment to notice the two bottles of champagne on the countertop. He recognized the painted flowers. The gala. She’d tried to bring him the champagne from the gala.
He picked up the less expensive bottle, knowing she hadn’t spent a thousand dollars on the other one. He had no doubt that Patricia had brought it out to show Diana that her bottle wasn’t good enough.
It was more than good enough. It touched him in a way that was so sweet, it was on the verge of painful.
“You brought this for us?” he asked her.
His doubts vanished. He held that bottle in his hand, and tried not to be overwhelmed by its significance. If he’d worried that their relationship wasn’t going well, this bottle proved otherwise. A woman didn’t plan a private champagne toast with a man she still considered a bad match.
To hell with their audience. To hell with being civilized, with all the snarky comments and smug superiority he’d been so aware of this day. The woman who’d brought him this gift was worth having, and by God, he was going to have her.
He put the bottle down to take her face in both hands, and he whispered a simple thank-you over her lips. For a beautiful, brief moment, with a single slide of tongues that was as close to perfect as a physical act could be, he let himself enjoy the intimate interior of her mouth. He ended the kiss, slowly let his hands leave her face, and picked up the champagne.