by Shannyn Leah
Quinn lowered his voice. “Most women would jump at the opportunity to eat out.” His golden eyes shaded to a dark amber. “But not you. You would rather stay in and cook the meal yourself.”
His high spirits faltered the closer she walked. She could see the lust he was fighting burning in his eyes, and she wondered how she’d ever thought it wasn’t real.
Anya stopped a couple feet away. She could have easily smiled and given him the encouragement to continue this facade, but her spirits were lacking.
“Doesn’t that go against my spoiled princess image?” There was no humor in her tone and she didn’t want to fight. She was simply pointing out what he’d accused her of. And she was keeping them platonic. Like he wanted.
“I didn’t mean that.”
Anya chewed on the inside of her mouth, wondering why she’d needed to hear him say it.
He stepped closer to her. “I’m sorry.”
Anya took a deep breath. “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. It’s the truth.”
“It’s not that black and white.”
“So you keep saying.” She wasn’t talking about his current comment anymore and she watched him understand it was about them, the file and their non-existent future.
Not wanting to dive into that conversation again, Anya turned her attention to the vegetables he’d pulled from the refrigerator.
“I wasn’t preparing anything fancy for supper tonight. Fettuccine alfredo with homemade garlic sauce and a salad.”
“I can make salad,” Quinn offered.
Anya nodded.
Preparing supper was better than sitting in a restaurant awkwardly staring across the table at one another while waiting for their food to arrive.
But when they remained unmoved, staring at each other, she knew she had to make the first move.
Not toward him, as much as she wanted. Quinn had the strength to keep from touching her, but she knew if she touched him he would lose his control. He offered nothing. She didn’t want nothing.
Anya separated the vegetables for him, setting him up with a knife and cutting board before moving around the kitchen, acutely aware of his presence.
She paused when her fingers wrapped round the handle of the pot she planned to boil water in for the pasta. Spoiled princess wasn’t that farfetched.
“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked over her shoulder.
She felt the heat of his presence, a confusing mixture as she tried to tame the heat radiating through her body from the simple touch of the cold metal.
Anya stared at the pot, her fingers so tightly wrapped around it they ached. Her white knuckles stared back at her.
“I haven’t cooked in two years,” she whispered. She wasn’t even sure that he heard her or that it had even come out. Maybe she had only thought it.
Anya hired a lady to cook the meals, so she wouldn’t have to. Not that Anya always ate what was set in front of her. Plain meals was what she required but whenever Lydia set a plate in front of her it reminded her of home, The Locket, Quinn...Suddenly, Anya lost her appetite. Cooking was an escape of life and she hadn’t−didn’t−deserve an escape.
“Do you forget how to?”
Anya flinched.
Blinking her eyes, she was dragged back to the present.
She glanced over her shoulder at him and found that he was grinning. Was it even possible to forget how to cook?
Anya laughed. “No.”
Quinn winked at her. “Good. I can cook, but in no way will it compare to Chef Anya. It will be like riding a bike.”
“I was never good at riding a bike.”
Quinn flashed her a roguish grin that he masked quickly by clearing his throat. “Right. Well, whatever you’re superior at riding, it will come back to you like that.” He snapped his fingers for effect.
Anya swallowed hard.
He was talking about them last night. Her riding him. Cowboy, western, Yee-haw, take him on the desk...and all that. Oh Lord, how were they supposed to keep it platonic when he kept bringing up those memories?
“Look I’ve just distracted you from your fear of cooking,” he said, but the comment lacked humor and his eyes went dark with desire.
“If your diversion includes me envisioning your naked, hard body underneath mine, then the victory is yours.”
He sucked in a breath and a sinister grin crossed his luscious lips. “And I thought you didn’t know how to dirty talk.”
Anya turned to face him and brought the pot with her. She held it between them.
Quinn glanced down at it. “I hope you intend to use that strictly for cooking,” he teased.
Hitting him over the head would be easier than resisting him.
“I will kiss you,” she said, knowing it was true. “I will make love to you. I will sleep in your arms all night, Quinn. But it will be because I have a place for you in my heart. You don’t have space for me in yours.”
Shadows lurked behind his eyes, a depressing darkness that he wouldn’t share with her.
“You’re right.” The corners of his lips curved a bit. “I will make the salad and you keep the dirty talk to yourself.”
He moved to the opposite side of the counter, lifting a stool out of his way and dragging the vegetables in front of him.
Anya turned to him, a counter between them. “I did not start that,” she clarified.
“I didn’t say you did.” He winked at her, before turning his full attention to his task.
“I ended it.”
“Of course you did.”
Anya glared at him.
He looked up. “You will always have a place in my heart and I would rather cook with you then not spend any time with you. I’m sorry that’s all it can be. I’m sorry I keep putting us into situations where it seems like I’m offering more. Friends. That’s what we can be.”
Friends? Friends! Was he serious?
The sombre look he sent her answered that question.
“Well, friend, don’t forget to wash those vegetables before you slice them.”
He smiled. “Okay.”
“With hot water, in a strainer and make sure to scrub them.”
He unbuttoned the wrists of his shirt and rolled the sleeves up his muscular arms, flexing with the movement. “Okay.”
So Mr. Barker did know how to take orders...this was a first.
Anya filled her pot with water, wondering if she felt the same way as him? Would being friends be better than being nothing? It sounded like a lot of resisting. But now that they’d laid down the terms and knew the boundaries, maybe the next day or two wouldn’t be as difficult. After that, Anya had no idea.
As Anya measured ingredients from memory and not with measuring tools, she noticed her own mood lighten. Her shoulders relaxed as she sliced through raw vegetables. Her smile appeared as she watched Quinn make preparing a salad look like the most difficult task in the kitchen.
The moment his knife touched the romaine lettuce, she couldn’t stand back any longer. Teaching him to tear the lettuce with his hands and not throw out the crispy leaves lessened the strain between them.
Hours later, they’d eaten a delicious meal, cleaned up and poured glasses of wine without a fight−that alone was a relief−and neither had made a pass. Anya wondered how long it would last.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Quinn said.
He didn’t wait for her answer, grabbing her hand, and pulling her out her suite door into the crisp night air.
They walked through the bushes toward the beach. The wide path prevented branches from playing slap shot with Anya. When they reached the beach, she slipped her heels off and carried them, walking alongside Quinn and the sandy shoreline.
It was a beautiful evening with just enough of a breeze to blow Anya’s hair across her back and kiss her bare shoulders. Walking quietly under the star-filled sky, listening to the wave’s crash along the water’s edge, would be peaceful if it wasn’t also so romantic.
Quinn bro
ke the silence. “My mom left when I was young. Around fifteen, I think. I wasn’t old enough to drive, but I was old enough to see the pain that her disloyalty left my dad,” he said.
Anya’s first defense was to point that he’d made it clear about no family talk. Not his and not hers. But the part of her that longed for him silenced her objections and coaxed her into listening.
“We didn’t reside in a little house and I wasn’t raised without money. Robert paid my dad substantially and we all lived a wealthy life.” He glanced at her. “Nothing like having our own personal suites around a tropical paradise, but we were more than comfortable.”
Anya would have smiled at his teasing if there wasn’t the underlying truth that it might not be teasing.
The corners of Quinn’s mouth fell at her straight face and he turned back to concentrating on walking the slow pace. She wasn’t sure he would open up anymore and wasn’t certain she wanted him to.
“After my mom left, it was me, my brother and my sister. I was the oldest, and with my dad gone most mornings and evenings, I was in charge.”
That explained his bossy attitude about her eating habits on a regular basis. She felt the corners of her lips lift, envisioning him barking around orders as a teenager.
“I took care of them most of the time. Dave grew into a good man. He was always quiet and observant...”
“Runs in the family.” Anya snapped her mouth shut the moment the words left. So much for just listening.
Quinn chuckled. “Yes, but he is softer than me. Kinder and without the vengeance that I carry. But still strong and confident.”
He inhaled deeply. She heard the pain in that breath and her eyes wandered over him. The moonlight highlighted the worried lines across his face, conveying how hard this topic was for him to discuss.
Why was he telling her? Why was he opening up to her now? Tonight? Because he thought they were friends?
“Dave doesn’t let the past bog him down. He lives a happy life in a positive way that is inspiring.” Quinn stared straight ahead and she watched a smile lift his lips then fall just as quickly. “I don’t even remember what a happy life is. It’s been years since I felt happy...” He looked down at her then. “Since you left.”
His words stopped her and she turned to look at him. She could say the same, only the truth was too frightening.
Was this another game of his? Or was he trying to ensure a friendship?
She was too tired to try and figure it out, so she continued walking.
Quinn fell into step beside her.
“And your sister?” she asked, wanting to divert the conversation away from their past.
Quinn said nothing for a long time. Maybe he was finished sharing. It was more than he had ever shared before.
The resort’s bright lights were illuminating the sky in front of them. Soon they would be walking among the loungers and tables left out all summer for the guests.
“She died,” Quinn finally said and Anya’s heart sunk.
Anya stopped walking and turned to him. “Quinn, I’m sorry.”
He’d had so much death and hardship in his family, his father and sister and his mother walking out on them. So much pain etched in his voice, blanketing the parts of him that he didn’t share with anyone.
“She got involved with a bad crowd after our mom left and it sort of messed her up. Nikki wasn’t even a teenager yet and she needed our mom more than she needed me. I was this kind of overbearing brother and there was only so much I could do or knew to do.”
Anya’s smile rose at that. “Eat breakfast, do your homework,” she spouted off, mimicking his voice.
Quinn grinned. “Yeah, something like that. I left for school and when I got back, she was in a bad place. It took me years, but finally after months of collecting evidence to raid and bust the club she was involved with−”
Anya interrupted him, thinking she’d misheard what he was saying. “Raided?” she asked. “Like-like a cop?” She needed clarity and Quinn’s nod didn’t do it. “You’re a cop?”
“I’m a retired detective from the Oakston police detachment.”
A retired detective? Since when? Had her father known? Of course he’d know. He wouldn’t have hired Quinn without doing a background check and he wouldn’t have hired Quinn if he had been the good guy. Which meant...
“What are saying? You were a shady detective?”
“No.”
Anya was going to need more than that to go on. She stood still and quietly waited for him to elaborate. If he decided to continue. This was the most he’d ever shared with her about his family and she wasn’t sure why. But she wouldn’t put it past him to shut down at any given moment and bark at her instead.
Quinn surprised her by continuing. “My dad was a private investigator and worked with Robert for over thirty years. We didn’t know Dad’s job with Robert wasn’t good until we were adults. He was a good man, but he was greedy too. He let his greed allow the people he hurt slide off his back unnoticed.”
Wasn’t that what Quinn had done for the two years he’d worked for her father? Maybe greed hadn’t been his motive, but did that forgive his actions?
“I wasn’t like my dad. I wanted to protect people, not put them in harm. So I became a detective and I was a good detective. I was a damn good detective. I tried to fix the city and eliminate crime rings in the city, but it’s a continuous battle. I tried harder for Nikki. Every time Dave and I got her in rehab, she came out good, but it only lasted a few days, or weeks or months and she was gone again, until she overdosed and died.”
Quinn was breaking Anya’s heart. He had no idea how many hours she’d spent wondering about his family, or if he had family besides his dead father. Now, to listen to all the heartache and drama of his family, she felt her walls she’d built this evening breaking down. Her lack of control was angering, but the grief in his eyes outranked it. Her heart grieved for him.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know.”
Would that have changed anything? Only the comments this morning that she’d barked out at him in a moment of rage. Other than that, they were still just friends.
“How would you? When have I ever been honest with you?”
He hadn’t. Not about his family or the reason he came to the resort.
Anya’s legs trembled. From what? His life laid out for her? The softness and love in his eyes? The sadness and grief of his soul? Or her own selfish need to heal all of it and steal the love for herself?
This was the real Quinn. There was no doubt about it. And she found herself more attracted to him now.
“From here on, I want to make the decisions regarding the files together. I don’t want to force you into situations like I did this morning and have you look at me like you have been all day. The way my dad looked when he thought about my mother. I don’t want you to feel betrayed by me. Not again. Can we do this together?”
Lately, every time he said “together” in the end it was all about him. Was that what this was about? Did he tell her these stories for the sole purpose of manipulating her?
“And if I say no?”
He held her eyes for a brief moment. “I will leave.”
Was he bluffing?
“And your file?” she asked, still not convinced.
“I’m finished hurting you. If you want me to leave, I will. Now that you’re reunited with your family I know you will be okay and that was the reason I came back here. For you.”
“That’s funny, because you slammed me on my bed and cornered me into finding the file room for the file.”
Her trust for him was going to take some time.
He shifted, which she should have taken for discomfort if she hadn’t caught a sizzle of desire in his eyes as well. And he wanted to just be friends. She could slap him.
“When I picked up on what you were doing, sneaking around in the night, the file was an added bonus−”
“To surrendering me to my family
.”
“To making sure that you were alright.”
Anya took a deep breath. Slapping him sounded so much easier than trying to decipher what he was saying.
“Let me get this straight, you came back here for me, but now that I can get you the file, you’re giving up on me and solely choosing the file.”
“I didn’t come back to ask you to marry me.”
She laughed. “Marry you? Marry you! When did I mention marriage?”
“What do you think comes after dating? I came back to ensure your safety. Which clearly was the right decision because you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”
Anya choked out another shocked laugh. “Are you honestly going to start fighting with me right now? Throwing in, I told you so’s, while trying to bargain?”
He groaned and threw him hands in the air. “Damn it, woman. I don’t know the hell you manage to twist everything around and frustrate the hell out of me. But bloody hell, you are so damn good at it.”
“You make it easy with all your lies. Talk about confusing a girl.”
He stormed back in front of her and when she thought he might kiss her, he just inhaled loudly instead. “I will leave,” he said through gritted teeth.
Huh?
“If that is what you want, then that is what I will do.” His words were harsh.
He would leave? For her?
He would be leaving her too. He was saying even without the file there was still no chance for them. Was it possible the file might change his mind? What if after he read whatever was on that file that maybe they could be together? Anya doubted it, and hoped, for her own sake, that wasn’t why she didn’t tell him to go.
“Fine.”
“Fine what?” he asked.
Walk away forever and don’t look back.
“I will work with you.” What was wrong with her? He gave her an easy out. “But like you said, it’s strictly work and no more. You can sleep in the spare room in my suite.” While I dream about being curled up in your arms.
The stressed features on his face loosened. “Thank you.”