“You have to be cold out here,” he said, making his presence known.
She turned at his voice, and he emerged from between the hedges of yews and boxwoods.
“I’m sorry I stepped out. I’ve never been much for crowds.”
“I warned you about Mom. She likes a gathering. Nothing like an intimate dinner for twenty-plus.”
Quinn smiled at the comment. “You made it down here alone. And you haven’t used your cane all night.”
“Don’t be too impressed about the stairs. Getting back up is the hard part,” he joked, although Quinn had been right. He had done well on the stairs that led up to the front entrance. He’d feared getting out of breath and embarrassing himself, but he’d been just fine.
“I was talking to Jonathan earlier. I like him,” Quinn said. “You have a wonderful family, Carter.”
“I do.” He clasped the back of his neck, feeling the newly trimmed hair at his nape, courtesy of one of the stylists at the St. Clair salon who had come to his home that morning. At his mother’s strong suggestion, he had also gotten a shave. He chuckled. “Although Ethan’s doing his best to tarnish the family name. You missed his epic meltdown. He got himself and his sister banished to one of the guestrooms.”
Quinn’s face brightened at the image. “He’s probably exhausted. It’s getting late for a little one.”
Recalling her miscarriage, his heart pinched. She crossed her arms against her chest, probably to ward off the chill, and he began to shrug out of his suit jacket, even if a bit awkwardly due to his shoulder. “Here. Take this.”
Ignoring her protest, he stepped closer and wrapped the jacket around her. Even with the darkness pressing in on them, her gray-green eyes were luminous as she stared up at him.
“Now you’re cold,” she pointed out.
“It’s not too bad tonight. And I haven’t had much opportunity to be a gentleman to you. You’ve been opening doors for me, driving me around and carrying my things. I’m trying to repair my male ego.”
She seemed to assess him before directing her gaze to the evening sky. “I’ve never seen so many stars. After a straight week of rain, everything is so—”
“You look beautiful tonight, Quinn.” Carter wanted her to know that.
Appearing uncomfortable, she looked down at the flagstone path. “You really don’t have to—”
“I said it because you do,” he emphasized, voice husky. “Whatever Medero did to hurt you, to make you leave him, he’s a fool.”
Carter was stone-cold sober. He was on no pain medication tonight, nor had he accepted the wine served with dinner. Whatever it was he felt for Quinn, he couldn’t keep denying it much longer. It was different from anything he had felt for a woman in a long time. He enjoyed her companionship, and he looked forward to being with her. The beach house seemed empty when she wasn’t in it. A reckless part of him thought of sifting his fingers through the glossy waves of her hair. Of lowering his mouth to hers. He swallowed. They stood so close.
“We should probably go back inside,” she murmured, her eyes uncertain as they searched his.
With a small release of breath, he nodded. “They’re doing the toast soon. That’s why I came to find you.”
He took his time on the steps leading back up to the main floor, Quinn beside him. As they reached the piazza—its ceiling painted a traditional lowcountry haint blue to ward off evil spirits—light spilled from the home’s interior, as did the sound of laughter and voices. He and Quinn made their way through double French doors that led into the wide hallway, then entered the elegantly decorated parlor where the guests were gathered. His cane lay across the seat of one of the upholstered chairs that had been pushed back to make room. Quinn removed his suit jacket and laid it over the cane.
“We’ve been waiting on you two,” Mark said upon their entry. A stemmed glass in hand, he stood in front of the crowd along with Samantha, Anders and Olivia. Mercer and Jonathan came to stand with Carter and Quinn. A uniformed butler offered them crystal glasses of champagne from a silver tray.
“To my mother and Anders,” Mark toasted as the others lifted their glasses. “Here’s to your joy and ours from this day forward. Welcome to the family, Anders.”
Carter sipped the champagne, his thoughts on what he had nearly done outside. Nearby, Jonathan slipped his arm around Mercer’s waist, adding his well wishes to the others echoing around the room. But Mercer was looking at Carter, he realized, a question in her eyes. Beside him, Quinn focused pensively on her champagne glass, its stem clasped in her fingers.
* * *
Quinn had been telling herself any attraction she felt to Carter was foolish and one-sided. But tonight, in the courtyard when she had lifted her gaze to his, she had again sensed his carnal interest in her. Their conversation on the drive back from Charleston had been stilted, not their usual easy discourse. Small talk about the dinner had punctuated the stretches of silence.
“We need to talk,” Carter said now, as Quinn fed Doug in the kitchen.
Her back to him, she halted and briefly closed her eyes. “About what?” she replied as casually as she could, wishing she hadn’t come inside to see to the dog and to collect her iPad, which she had left here by accident.
“Tonight in the courtyard. I wanted to kiss you. But I think you already know that.”
It became hard for her to breathe. She wanted him to take the words back. They ensured nothing between them would ever be the same again. Quinn faced him, aware of the hard beat of her pulse inside her throat. He stood in front of her, tall and handsome, wearing the crisp, white shirt and tailored slacks, his tie undone. He looked like he had stepped out of some high-end men’s fashion journal. Quinn had gotten used to his bearded, scruffy appearance—dressed in jeans or sweats, maybe even house shoes, sometimes sporting a case of bedhead after a nap. But when she had arrived at the house to pick him up tonight, he’d no longer appeared to be the semi-invalid she had been working with for these past weeks. He had gained back more weight and was looking more each day like the idol women worshipped on a movie screen.
He had wanted to kiss her. The fact that Quinn had wanted him to frightened her.
“Then why didn’t you?” The question escaped her before she could leash it in.
“Because it’s you, Quinn. When you stopped me by saying we should go back inside…” He made a small, helpless gesture with his hands. “I choked. I want to make sure I do things right with you—”
“Your instincts were on target. It would’ve been a mistake,” she interjected, her voice thick. “You don’t want me, Carter. You’re just confused because of our situation.”
“I disagree,” he said adamantly.
That night on the beach all those years ago resurfaced in Quinn’s mind, as did his callous dismissal of her afterward. Hurt, long dormant, sparked. “I’d just be another of your conquests. I’ve already been that once. I…I can’t do it again.”
Despite the pain in his eyes, he closed the small distance between them, his hands slipping up her arms. Her skin tingled where he touched her. “When I saw you again after all this time, I felt something. Something real, Quinn. It’s just taken me some time to admit it to myself.”
His nearness was overwhelming. A quiet hopefulness laced his words. “I’m asking whether you feel something, too.”
“I can’t do this,” she whispered, dropping her lashes so he couldn’t see the truth.
“Why? Because of what I did to you in high school? Because of Jake Medero? You’re legally separated—”
“Because of who you are.” Her voice shook with the admission. “Don’t you understand? I’d be crazy to let myself be vulnerable to someone like you. You go through women like water, you always have. You can have anyone you want. Women who are so much more—”
But her protest was silenced as he kissed her hard, sending a hot wave of shock and ecstasy through her. Then, raising his mouth from hers, he gazed into her eyes. “Tell me you don’t feel something,�
� he repeated hoarsely.
She felt drugged, caught in his undertow. Quinn tried to throttle the dizzying current running through her. But her body overruled her brain. Looking at him, defeat welled inside her. Then, lifting on tiptoe, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his again. This time, she opened her mouth to his, groaning as he slipped his tongue inside.
She was his physical therapist. There were protocols and ethics. But none of this situation between them had been normal. He walked her backward, his disability seemingly forgotten. He pinned her against the refrigerator door with his weight, still kissing her. When his mouth dropped to her neck, sucking at the column of her throat, Quinn shivered, melting under his touch. Her hands encircled his back, and she could feel his heat through the polished cotton of his dress shirt.
She struggled for rational thought even as the hot ache inside her spread. She was vaguely aware of Doug walking around the room as well as her own ragged breathing.
“Carter,” she murmured shakily, trying to gain some purchase in reality. But he hushed her by taking possession of her mouth again, his hands moving slowly up her body, stopping at the sides of her breasts. Instinctively, she arched into him.
The wall intercom buzzed. Someone was at the gate. Tearing his lips from hers, Carter swore softly and dragged air into his lungs. “It must be Mercer and Jonathan. I thought they were staying at the hotel, but they must’ve changed their minds.”
Quinn felt dazed. Unsure if his sister’s arrival was a curse or blessing, she slid out from between him and the refrigerator and walked to the console, pressing the button that opened the electronic gate. As she turned to Carter again, he cupped the back of his neck, still breathing hard. Their eyes met and held in the room’s silence.
“Mercer has the gate code,” he said, sudden realization on his features.
She went quickly into the foyer and looked out through the beveled-glass door onto the front drive. The headlights of a large SUV nearly blinded her. As she squinted against their glare, her stomach turned rancid at the powerful figure who emerged from the driver’s side of the vehicle. Oh, God. She felt Carter’s presence behind her.
“Who is it?”
Quinn’s voice was breathy with fear. “It’s Jake. I didn’t know. I let him in.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Stay inside and call the police.”
Carter attempted to go around Quinn, but she blocked him, her hands on his chest, her face pale. “You can’t go out there. You don’t know him—”
“I’m just going to talk to him.” But his surprise over Medero’s arrival had given way to a quiet fury. Gently but firmly, Carter moved her out of the way. He could stay inside and wait for the police, but he refused to do so. He needed Medero to know Quinn had a protective circle of people around her. “Do as I asked. Lock the door behind me.”
He stepped onto the wide, wraparound porch, closing the door behind him and cutting off Quinn’s pleas. Medero stalked up the paved-stone walkway, his face and body silhouetted in the headlights’ glare. He was about Carter’s same height, but had the hulking, overly muscled physique of a pro football player.
“This is private property. The gate was opened by mistake. Go back to your vehicle and leave.”
Medero halted at the bottom of the porch steps. From this distance, his face was visible, topped by raven eyebrows drawn down over stony, dark eyes. “I want to talk to my wife. I know she’s in there.”
He had lost the right to call her that. “Quinn isn’t coming out. We’ve called the police. They’re on their way.”
Medero tilted his head on his well-developed neck as he squinted up in recognition. “Carter St. Clair.” He smirked, his tone derisive. “I knew she had a family connection, but I never thought you’re who she’s been—”
“Leave now,” Carter repeated, his pulse beating in his temples. “She doesn’t want to see you. You need to accept things are over.”
“Quinn and I are none of your business.” Medero’s chin jutted upward, his stance wide. “But my business is finding out whether you’re fucking her.”
He placed one foot on the bottom step, preparing to come onto the porch, but Carter came carefully down instead, not wanting him to get any closer to Quinn.
Medero eyed him coldly. “Are you stupid enough to be tapping that? Knowing who it belongs to?”
Carter felt a nerve jump along his jaw. “Quinn doesn’t belong to anyone. She’s a person, not a thing. And I’m receiving physical therapy from her—”
“Bullshit.” He scowled as he took in Carter’s attire. “Looks to me like I broke up a date.”
“You don’t care about her. That car crash you orchestrated could’ve gotten her killed. You know that?”
He gave an innocent shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But I do know this. You’ve got about ten seconds to get her out here before I go in and drag her out myself.”
Tight-lipped, Carter stood his ground. “You’re not going in there. Think about it, Medero. Neither of us wants to end up on the news. I’m telling you again to leave, before the police get here. It’s over between you and Quinn.”
With a snarl, Medero grabbed Carter by the shirt collar, but he shoved away from him hard, breaking his hold. He grunted as pain lanced through his right shoulder. Medero lunged for him again, but stopped at the sound of Quinn’s voice.
“Don’t do it, Jake!” Both men looked up to where she stood on the porch. She indicated the home’s roofline. “There’re security cameras. You hurt him, and we’ll have it on video.”
Medero glared up at her. Sirens wailed in the distance. He took a step back, pointing a finger at her.
“I warned you to be careful how you treat me.” His next threat was directed at Carter, who clasped his shoulder with his left hand. “When I do get around to you, you’ll wish that crazy stalker bitch had finished you off.”
Carter watched, breathing hard as Medero retreated. Halfway down the walk, though, he turned back to him.
“Didn’t figure you for being into the lifestyle, St. Clair,” he called out. “Here’s a tip—use hand gestures instead of a safe word. That way you can use a gag on her. The sounds she makes through it will go straight to your balls.”
Reaching the SUV, he got in and started it, gunning the engine. Wheeling the vehicle around, he roared out. He drove through the closed gate, sending sparks flying as it burst outward with a metal bang. Face hot, outrage warred with the pain in Carter’s shoulder.
Quinn rushed down the steps. Worry pinched her features as she touched Carter’s chest, his shoulders, trying to assess the damage. The sirens were louder now, coming closer.
“Are you crazy?” Concern ratcheted up her voice. “You’re in no condition to stand up to him. He could’ve just set back weeks of therapy.”
“What was he talking about, Quinn? That stuff about gags and me being into the lifestyle?”
She dropped her gaze, but Carter held on to her with his left hand. “Look at me.”
Her eyes were pained.
A black-and-white pulled into the driveway.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“You can pick up a copy of the report at the station on Monday, Mr. St. Clair,” the younger of the two policemen said as he stood in the driveway with Carter and Quinn. The other was already at the patrol car, using the radio to report to dispatch. They were the same ones who had come to the house over a month ago. A second unit had also responded, but had since left.
The officer’s gaze moved to Quinn. “I’m sorry about the restraining order, ma’am.”
Carter watched as Quinn merely nodded before looking off to the rustling palms on the eastern side of the property. He shared her frustration. They had been told that obtaining a domestic-violence restraining order across state lines would be a more complicated process, since it would first have to be filed and granted in a court where the accused resided before a similar order could be issued here.
/>
“His laying hands on you is enough for third-degree simple assault in South Carolina, though, if you want to press charges,” the officer said to Carter. “It’s a misdemeanor—maximum thirty-day jail term and a five-hundred-dollar fine.” He peered at the broken gate. “We can haul him in for property damage, too.”
Quinn’s voice held a plea as she looked at Carter. “I don’t want to drag you further into this—”
“I want to press charges,” Carter said to the officer.
The man gave a nod.
“That’s it? You’re leaving, then?”
“Not just yet. I need to write up a few things. But we’ll be going shortly. My partner is putting a bulletin out on the SUV’s make and model now.”
“It’s probably a rental from the airport in Charleston,” Carter told him.
“We’ll check into it.” Politely, he tipped his cap to Quinn before walking to the squad car and entering on the passenger side.
“This will only make Jake angrier,” Quinn reasoned once they were alone. “I know you’re doing this for me, but you don’t want this kind of publicity. And even if they find him, an arrest like this will only tie him up for a few hours until he’s processed and makes bail.”
“He needs to know we mean business.” Carter tested his sore shoulder. Inside the squad car, the interior light had been turned on and he could see the officer they had just been talking to scribbling on a clipboard. Half in dread, he took their moment of privacy to readdress what he’d asked earlier.
“I’m no prude, Quinn—far from it. I know what Medero was implying.” At the look of misery on her face, his voice gentled. “Is that the kind of relationship you were in?”
She colored fiercely, her eyes downcast. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
His jaw tightened. The idea of Quinn being treated like that, even consensually, disturbed him. It was clear Medero had a sadistic side. But it didn’t fit with the strong, independent woman who stood in front of him, although she now appeared cowed. Her eyes still hidden from his by her thick lashes, Carter’s gaze fell on the swell of her cleavage revealed by the neckline of her dress. The thought of Medero hurting her sickened him. He bent his head closer to hers.
Low Tide: Rarity Cove Book Two Page 15