“You love to avoid, don’t you?”
Quinn put her hands to her chest and mocked surprise with the bat of her eyelashes. “Me? The woman who’s been looking for her Mr. Darcy since she was old enough to know what the words ‘unrealistically’ and ‘romantic’ meant? That’s just plain silly.”
But suddenly, Khristos wasn’t joking. His face took a harder turn. As though he needed to drum into her head why she’d been so wrong about Igor. “My point is, Shawna could have been anyone. You were a placeholder until he figured out what he wants—and he was yours, by the way.”
She didn’t like that. She didn’t like it at all. “Igor’s a jerk.”
He pushed his milkshake aside, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Igor’s just confused.”
“Are you defending him?”
“Someone has to. I mean, the guy went to poetry readings for you. I’d rather watch paint dry than sit through something like that. But I won’t do something I’m completely disinterested in just to avoid sleeping alone. If I’m honest, I feel a little sorry for him. He was pretty lost for a really long time.”
Was? Her cheeks went hot, her jaw tight. “Oh, and I suppose now he’s not lost because Shawna and her ripped body and skimpy clothing helped him find his way?”
Khristos stared at her for a moment before he answered. “I don’t know if he’s still lost. But forget Igor. What I’m saying is, he was the wrong man for you, Quinn. I am absolutely not saying his infidelity was okay or fair to you. But in the long run, you’re better off because Igor doesn’t know what he wants in a life partner. You do.”
“The hell I do. I don’t know what I want, because when I think I have what I want, what I want turns out to be a fat lie.”
“All the romantic notions aside, like sunsets and picnics in the park while the breeze blows through all that luscious hair of yours, you want two things, Quinn. You want unconditional acceptance, and a real man with unshakeable morals.”
He thought her hair was luscious?
Knock that right off, dreamweaver.
Her heart crashed against her ribs. Yes. That was what she wanted. “Well, I didn’t get that, which is why I stink at this Aphrodite thing thus far. And isn’t what I did the same thing as what Igor did? I allowed myself to ignore the signs he was wrong for me because I didn’t want to be alone?”
Khristos shook his head. “You’re not afraid to be alone, Quinn. You’ve done that before and you were perfectly happy with your life and your books. A little lonely? Maybe. A little isolated because you live in those books you read so many of? Maybe. But you weren’t miserable. Igor is miserable. With himself, with his life. His validation comes from the coup of getting the girl. Once he has her, and she’s not what he’d hoped, he strays because he’s always searching instead of finding out what it is he wants. Instead of learning to like his own damn company. And yes, you were happy with Igor for a time, but you didn’t love him the way you want to love a man, the way you should love a man, and you never would have. Eventually, you would have been discontent and grossly disappointed.”
“Well, how nice. Got a big fat bow you can slap on that evaluation of my love life?”
He looked perplexed and it showed when he frowned. “Don’t take insult, Quinn. I’m just trying to help you get over your breakup.”
“Phew. You’re a real soother, huh? Next time, just hand me the gallon of ice cream and skip the assessments. It would be kinder.”
Still, he persisted as though he just didn’t get how insensitive his words came off. “I’m just trying to help you understand how this works in correlation to you.”
Using the heels of her hands, she pressed them against the table and stretched her arms. “Right, so we can hurry things along and you can get back to your playboying. Forgive me in all my novice for holding you up.”
“No. That’s not it at all. I’m telling you this for the future. So you know what you need to look out for. You want a man who challenges you. Not a man who conforms to your idea of what the perfect mate should be—because that’s not a man. Men—good, honest men—stay true to who they really are.”
She bobbed her head, grabbing her hat and her purse, her lips tight. “Thanks for all the man-fo. Look, I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere tonight. The feeling I had after dinner is long gone, and if you don’t mind, I’m really tired. So I’m just going to go home and get into bed and ponder all the things you tell me I want. I’ll see you back at my place later.”
She slid out of the red-and-white vinyl booth and snatched her jacket from the hook, trying not to stomp off like a two-year-old having a temper tantrum. Swinging open the glass door, she padded down the steps, her anger fueling each stride.
She wanted a man who challenged her. Really? She jammed her arms into her coat, making a face of disgust when she couldn’t zip it up over her stupid, oversized hooters.
As she made her way out of the small parking lot and onto the curb, she thought ugly thoughts. Thank God for Khristos and his analysis. How had she gotten to the ripe old age of thirty-five without it?
What hurts more, Quinn? The fact that he’s spot on, or the fact that you weren’t smart enough to figure it out for yourself and a man who bed hops had to tell you?
Dragging her purse over her shoulder, she simmered as she walked beneath the heavy, cloud-covered night, going over Khristos’s words about Igor and his desire to have anyone beside him in his ugly bed with the equally ugly leather headboard, as long as that someone had a pulse.
In the height of her reflection, she almost mistook the sound of someone crying for street noise. But the rawness of it caught her ear and made her pause. Her eyes scanned the street, not terribly well lit, and quite honestly, it was stupid on her part to be walking alone.
Sticking her hand in her purse, she felt for her pepper spray. She’d lived in the city all alone for a long time, petrified a moment like this might come along. Her breathing slowing as she tipped her head and heard someone gasp for breath. And then sobbing. Sobbing so real, so gut-wrenchingly heartrending, her own heart clenched.
Quinn swiveled her head and that was when she saw the man on the bridge, just across the street. He was so small, his dark shoulders hunched and shaking as he straddled the steel edge of the bridge. As she drew closer, a glimmer of the puddle of his tears shone on the guardrail from the light of the full moon, making her fight a loud intake of breath.
She jammed her knuckles into her mouth. No. No, he wasn’t going to…Was he?
Everything stopped for her then. All motion, all sound. There was nothing but this man and his rasping sobs, wrenched from his body as though someone were physically pulling each one from his chest.
His breaths came in short, cloudy puffs against the deep black velvet of night, and his muttered apologies came out in fits and spurts of jumbled, agonizingly stark words like “done” and phrases of the “I just can’t do this anymore” nature, startling her to the core.
Her heart fell to her feet, her stomach churned with fear. Yet, his figure, so diminutive against the enormous backdrop of the New York City skyline, cried out to her—screamed for her to do something, anything.
And then she heard the heartbeat—just one, a single rapid fire of pain and anguish. This made no sense. How could he be the person she was supposed to be finding true love for? It was clear he wanted out of life, not a life mate.
Quinn’s throat clogged up as she remembered Khristos’s words about not rushing—to wait for him before she did anything rash. But she was torn as the heartbeat grew louder. What if she waited and he pitched himself into the murky waters of the Hudson? She’d never be able to live with herself if she didn’t offer help.
And then she thought, fuck this business of being Aphrodite. She didn’t know why she was here at this very moment or what the shit kind of match she was supposed to make with someone who wanted to end their life, but not a chance in hell was she going to let this guy plunge off this bridge.
Instantly, she had a choice to make—approach or call 911. Slipping her hand inside her purse, she rolled her fingers over her phone, locating it, but another heartbeat interrupted the action she planned to take.
A heartbeat smaller, much smaller than what she’d heard before and assumed belonged to the man on the bridge. It was erratic and quick, as though the owner was panicked or afraid. She took quick steps to get a closer glimpse when someone grabbed her arm and slipped a hand over her mouth.
Instinct told her to fight as her heart fought to get out of her chest until the owner of the hand said, “Do you hear it, Quinn?” Khristos whispered in her ear, an urgent demand.
She stilled and leaned back into Khristos with a nod of flooding relief that he wasn’t a bad guy out to kill her. Gripping his wrist to pull his hand from her mouth, she pushed at it. “Let me go! I have to help him!”
“No!” he ordered in a hiss against her ear. “I need you to trust me, Quinn.”
She struggled against Khristos. Trust him? “He’ll die! I won’t let that happen!”
“Trust me, Quinn. Trust me and listen. Listen.”
Her panic subsided as the smaller heartbeat took over, thrumming, melding with the larger, more powerful one…and then something else.
A third heartbeat? She strained against the grip Khristos had on her, as though leaning into the night would make the listening easier.
“Listen, Quinn. Feel it. Close your eyes, lean into me and feel it.”
Quinn did as he instructed, forgetting that his chest was rock-hard yet inviting, forgetting that his embrace left her unafraid and comforted. Instead, she did what he requested. She felt.
Felt the thrumming in her veins, a sweet pulse of joy that grew stronger.
Felt the release of helplessness and, in its place, hope. So much hope it almost doubled her over, blooming into her chest like a flower opening under the warmth of the sun.
Squeezing Khristos’s arm, she whispered, “Ohhh…”
His chin fell to the top of her head, where he let it rest. “Hang on to it, Quinn. Ride it out and listen.”
Stealing a slow breath, Quinn cocked her head and heard another voice coming from the area of the bridge—a female voice, soft and lilting. “It’s a kitten! I knew I heard meowing. Aw, c’mere, little guy. Oh my God, you’re freezing!”
The man on the guardrail looked up, and for a beat of a moment, his face was as clear as if Quinn were standing right in front of him. His eyes glittered from his tears, his gaunt cheeks chapped with two bright spots of red, the despair written on his face clear—and that was when he hesitated.
And it was when she knew, when she felt what Khristos has described. This feeling, this pull wasn’t urgent at all—it was right. It fit like a lost piece to a puzzle.
It simply was.
Quinn stopped breathing altogether as she clung to Khristos to keep from running to the man’s aid—to allow whatever was supposed to happen, just happen.
This little woman, bundled from head to toe in a puffy jacket and boots, had managed to stop his momentum as she held up a tiny white and black kitten. Violent shudders wracked its freezing body as she cupped it close to her chest and stroked its head.
The man’s grip on the guardrail loosened and he looked down at the woman without qualm. He cleared his throat. “Is he…is he okay?”
The young woman looked up then, her profile sloping and soft, her hair falling along her back in raven swirls highlighted in blue, and she smiled up at him—a smile that was filled with sincerity…with understanding…with rare kindness. “I think he will be. Would you mind holding him while I dig around in my purse for my hat? I’ll tuck him into it and he’ll be right as rain until I get home.” She held up the tiny ball of shaking fur, as the man slid effortlessly from the guardrail, taking the kitten, his eyes meeting the woman’s.
“Now, Quinn. Call for Cupid now,” Khristos murmured, and this time, it was an urgent demand. “Close your eyes and picture his arrow.”
Biting the inside of her cheek, she listened to her instincts, saw this imaginary arrow in her head in the way she’d always daydreamed, and mentally summoned Cupid.
Just as the image of the arrow faded from her mind’s eye, Khristos squeezed her shoulders. “Look quickly, Quinn!”
Her eyes popped open, and in that moment, the most magical moment she’d experienced to date, she saw the arrow, soaring over the midnight sky like a firework, illuminated in a haze of shimmering white and pink. It landed in its target, disappearing into the left side of his chest then exploding in a fountain-like shower of sparks and color.
As the sparks framed their images, the woman held out her hand to the man—a simple gesture, but one filled with so much faith, Quinn had to keep from shouting at him to take it—take it and run as far and as fast as he could.
Please, God. Please let him take her hand. Quinn didn’t understand the compelling nature of her request, there was no rhyme or reason to why she was sure it was crucial this man agreed to go with this woman, but she knew it was—to the depths of her soul, she knew.
And he did, gripping it tight in a shaky grab of flesh meeting flesh, and then the tiny woman said to him as though she had no clue he’d been about to take his own life, “It’s pretty dark out here. Would you mind waiting with me while I call a cab?”
The man nodded, his mussed hair spiking in the cold wind picking up from the water. They trailed off hand in hand, winding their way down along the bridge until they were gone.
And suddenly, Quinn felt at peace, at total ease. She relaxed back into Khristos’s grip and sighed a happy sigh at this turn of events. An event she hadn’t just read about in a book. This had really happened, and she’d been a part of it.
Scenery is fine, but human nature is finer, flitted through her head.
“Nice job, Quinn. Well executed shot, too.”
She mentally sent up a thank you to Cupid, blowing a kiss to the heavens. Then she turned to Khristos and smiled, fighting tears, forgetting she was angry with his assessment of her life. “That was amazing. The most amazing thing I’ve ever witnessed.”
He chuckled, his laughter filtering to her ears, warming her. “It can be pretty incredible, and you made it happen.”
But then a thread of fear shivered along her spine. “Why was he considering taking his life?”
Khristos’s voice grew distant as he looked past her head and out into the expanse of the city’s skyline. “I don’t know all the particulars on this one, Quinn. I just know, in this case, he needed someone. That someone was the woman who found the kitten. The right woman to help him through whatever it is he’s going through. He’s going to be fine now. They’re going to be fine and so will the little guy.”
Quinn breathed a sigh of relief and happiness, still caught up in the joy of the moment. “How utterly and extraordinarily beautiful. Two random strangers cross paths, and poof—magic.”
Running a finger long the line of her nose, he smiled and nodded. “Yep, poof.”
Complete joy swept over her at this miracle that had occurred right under her nose, making her forget everything but this very second, one she would always cherish.
“Thank you,” she whispered in awe. In her excitement, Quinn wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him close.
She didn’t mean to shudder a breath of contentment when his scent reached her nose. She didn’t mean for her hands to curl into the hair at the nape of his neck, or luxuriate in the thick softness of it against her cold fingers. She didn’t mean to sigh when his large body met hers.
And she definitely hadn’t meant to graze his lips—his firm but soft lips. But graze she did when she began to pull away from his embrace and their mouths brushed.
The sweet sting of longing jolted her with a sharp tug, and then Khristos’s lips covered hers, his hands winding around her waist and up along her back until she was molded tight against his tall, well-muscled frame.
For the briefest of second
s, something deep inside Quinn shifted, rooted around for a new place to settle, making her pulse race and her mouth open wider, accepting the silky taste of his tongue.
Her nipples tightened, tingling with need. The rigid outline of him, pressing at the apex of her thighs, made her breathing hitch.
He was all man, all hard, all everything.
If ever there was a perfect kiss, this was it. Soft, hard, deep, and delicious.
Her eyes would have rolled to the back of her head at such bliss—but in her almost swoon, her foot slipped off the curb and she fell backward.
“Quinn!” Khristos yelped as she began to tip sideways in what felt like a slow-motion action.
Which was odd, she thought on her way down.
It had been an amazing kiss, but one worthy of leaving her flat-out on the pavement in face-plant fashion?
Not quite.
Though, she’d be willing to try it again—just to test the theory.
Chapter 8
“Sweet baby J in a manger, what did you do to the matchmaker, my friend? Love hurts, huh?” Nina asked, her fingers dabbing at the scrape on Quinn’s forehead with an antiseptic wipe as though she were swatting flies.
But Quinn wasn’t complaining. At least Nina wasn’t choking her out. That surely meant a friendship with the vampire was in the offing.
Wanda brushed at Nina’s hands with an impatient flap. “Be gentle, Nina! You’re not washing the tires on your big rig, for heaven’s sake!”
Nina threw up her middle finger in Wanda’s direction, along with the antiseptic wipe. “Oh, put a sock in it, Nightingale. I’m helping. You said help, didn’t you? This is me being all sensitive over a minor boo-boo.”
Marty plopped down on a chair next to Quinn and shooed Nina away with disgust—a tone Marty took often with Nina, but Quinn realized was always tempered with love. “Go help Carl. Last I saw him, he lost his hand again. Now move, and let the experts do their thing.”
The vampire made a face of disgust. “Carl!” Nina shouted, her husky voice making Quinn’s aching head wince. “Carl? Where the hell are you, buddy? You know what I said about hiding. You can only do it when we’re playing a game with Charlie. Olli-olli-oxen-free, pal!”
Accidentally Aphrodite (Accidentally Paranormal Novel Book 10) Page 10