Which left him with only one option.
He’d put her to bed here.
“You’re not gonna like this.” He turned toward the door. “But I’m afraid this is the way it has to be.”
There was no one but him in the old hotel these days. Zane, his younger brother, lived with his fiancée Iris in their new house in the city, while Rush, his middle brother, had an apartment with Ava, his cop fiancée.
The hotel had many rooms, but most of them weren’t habitable, and since Zane kept his old room locked — he basically used it as a storage facility for stuff Iris didn’t want in the house — and since Rush only used his room as a place to sleep when he’d had too many beers to drive home, and the sheets were still dirty from the last time, Quinn had only one place to put Duchess.
His room.
The sheets were clean and warm, and the place didn’t smell musty and of disuse the way Rush’s room did, and there basically wasn’t anywhere else to put her.
He’d take Rush’s room himself.
She started to stir as he carried her up the stairs to the upper levels of the hotel, her lovely, delicate face twisting in distress.
“It’s okay,” he said soothingly, keeping his voice low. “I’ve got you now, baby.”
You’re soothing her? What the fuck?
That was a very good question. Carrying ice-cold Duchess in his arms and murmuring softly to her wasn’t exactly normal behavior for him. So he had no idea why he was doing it now. Or where the satisfaction that spread through him as she sighed and relaxed against him, as if his voice was all she’d needed to hear, came from.
This woman had been tormenting him from the second she’d turned up, wiggling that tight butt in her sexy little pencil skirts, stealing all his business like she didn’t give a fuck, teasing him with her ball-busting attitude, making him desperate to rile her, get under that armor, get her all hot and worked up.
But she wasn’t ball-busting or icy right now. She was lying in his arms, against his chest, relaxed and warm…
Quinn looked down into her face as he carried her down the hallway toward his suite. Her eyes were closed, long golden lashes lying still on her pale cheeks. He’d never seen her like this, not without that level blue stare of hers and those coolly sarcastic putdowns. A woman always in control of herself, that was Lily Hammond. She was a master of it.
But not tonight.
He paused before his open bedroom door, adjusting his hold to push back a lock of pale gilt hair that had fallen over her forehead. It was soft against his fingertip, as soft as he’d known it would be.
Hell, he shouldn’t be touching her. It was a temptation he couldn’t allow himself, especially given how aggravating, yet also fascinating he found her and always had. And it wasn’t only the fact that she was sexy that drew him to her. She was also perceptive, frighteningly intelligent, and apparently unintimidated by him. She might look delicate, but the kind of hell she gave him would put a pro-wrestler to shame.
He moved through the darkened suite, not bothering with the lights since he didn’t want to wake her up, going past the neatly organized living area and through the double doors that led into the bedroom. His bed took up most of the space, the sheets thrown back from when he’d gotten out of it.
Gently, he laid her down then paused, frowning. Her clothes were wet and he didn’t want to put her to bed in wet clothes.
“Shit,” he muttered. “You’re not going to like this either.”
But he didn’t hesitate, taking off her shoes then stripping her wet jeans and T-shirt from her in a business-like fashion, keeping a firm hold on his libido as he uncovered her pale, silky skin. He didn’t allow himself even one look, putting her in one of his clean and dry T-shirts then pulling the covers over her. She didn’t stir or make a sound as he did so, only turning her head to snuggle into the pillow once he’d tucked the comforter around her again.
He shouldn’t have found that movement so ridiculously endearing, but he did.
For a second, he waited to see if she was going to wake up and maybe try and argue with him, but she didn’t. Her breathing slowed, becoming deep and regular.
His feeling of satisfaction deepened and this time he didn’t question it. Because here was the infamous, icy Duchess, warm and relaxed and sound asleep in his bed. Almost as if that’s where she belonged…
Where she belonged? Seriously?
Yeah, no. Nice idea, but that wasn’t happening. As he’d already determined to himself months ago, he wasn’t getting tangled up with the formidable Duchess, no matter how lovely, intelligent or sexy she was. His life was complicated enough already, thank you very much.
Quinn allowed himself one more glance at her, then he turned and made his way to Rush’s room, plans turning over and over in his head.
The first thing Lily became aware of was that she was warm, not to mention comfortable. She was also surrounded by the most delicious smell. Of warm, dry earth and cut grass. Or maybe freshly dried laundry. Or cedar logs drying in the sun. Whatever it was, the scent made her want to bury her head in the pillow and breathe in. It was familiar and it made her feel safe, which was strange because these days she wasn’t unsafe.
More awareness began to penetrate.
This didn’t feel like her bed. The sheets weren’t as soft or smooth as the obscenely high thread count ones she’d wasted what little remained of her precious salary on a few months ago. Though, the mattress was deliciously soft, and that scent…
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” a rough, dark, gritty voice said.
Lily stilled.
Memories of the night before poured in. Of the phone call and the rush of fear. Then going straight to the one man she should never have gone to and asking for his help. Of getting to her feet, intending to go watch over Rose, and then she’d felt unsteady, like she’d been going to faint…
You did faint, remember?
Oh, shit.
Lily’s eyes popped open and she sat bolt upright.
She was not in her own bed in her own, somewhat cluttered apartment. She was in a strange bedroom, the walls covered in a dark red, richly textured wallpaper, the carpet a charcoal color nearer to black. A set of double doors was opposite the bed and standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the doorframe, was Quinn Redmond.
Mercifully, he was wearing a T-shirt this morning, though it looked worn and well-loved, the soft cotton pulling tight over his chest, drawing attention to the hard, carved lines of the muscles beneath. It was dark green, almost the exact color of his eyes.
She took a steadying breath, her heart beating way too fast. “What happened? What am I doing here?”
“You fainted,” Quinn said matter-of-factly. “You were exhausted and cold and wet, and in no shape to go anywhere. So I put you to bed.”
A memory shifted around in her head, of strong arms around her. Holding her. A hard, hot chest pressing against her. Warm skin and a dry, spicy, earthy scent… Her breath caught.
She’d been totally unconscious and completely at his mercy. And he’d held her. He’d picked her up and carried her up here to this bed, and—
Lily jerked the sheet away, looking down at herself as a sudden and irrational fear iced her blood. Sure enough, she wasn’t in the clothes she’d worn the night before. Instead, she had on a large black T-shirt. A man’s black T-shirt.
“Your clothes were wet,” Quinn explained, before she could ask. “I had to put you into something dry.
Ignoring him, she pulled open the neckline to check she wasn’t naked under it and she wasn’t. She still had her bra and panties on. Thank God for small mercies.
“What?” He sounded annoyed this time. “You really think I’d take advantage of an unconscious woman?
Lily let go the neckline of the T-shirt and looked at him. “If you’re waiting for me to apologize for checking that I haven’t been undressed without my permission, you’re out of luck. Men are shitty.”
“Some men m
aybe, but I’m not one of them.” He scowled. “You know I’d never do that to you.”
You do know.
Heat tinged her cheeks and she glanced away, tugging up the sheet reflexively to cover the small lash of shame. Of course, she knew he’d never do that to her. If he’d been that type of man she wouldn’t be here asking for his help in the first place.
He’s not Mason, come on.
“Yes, well.” She fussed with the sheet again. “Where are my clothes?”
“I washed them. They’re in the dryer.”
“They didn’t need a wash. All they needed was to be dried.”
“Too bad.”
Lily stared down at her hands twisted in the sheets. She felt vulnerable sitting here dressed in Quinn’s T-shirt, in what was likely to be Quinn’s bed, and it was ridiculous.
So, she’d fainted in front of him and he’d picked her up and carried her here. Put her to bed. So, what? She had no one to blame but herself for that. She hadn’t been looking after herself properly, letting this whole blackmail nonsense get to her. Now she’d had a decent sleep it all seemed so…stupid.
Get it together.
Collecting herself, she looked up again and met his gaze. “Thank you. I… appreciate what you did.”
If he was surprised by her thank you, he didn’t show it. He merely looked at her with those impenetrable green eyes. “Hungry?”
“No.” She gritted her teeth as her stomach growled. Loudly.
Quinn grunted. “Come downstairs to the kitchen. I got pancakes and bacon, and coffee’s on the stove.”
“Thank you, but—-”
“Like I said, you can eat. Get some caffeine. And we can talk about how to solve your little blackmail problem.”
Bossy damn man.
“I might have been a bit hasty last night,” she said, trying to sound as cool and in-charge as she could while sitting on the bed dressed only in his T-shirt. “I might not end up needing your help after—”
“Duchess.” Quinn’s voice was a cool as hers. “Let’s talk about this downstairs.”
Lily only just stopped herself from pulling a face. She didn’t want to do what he told her, because she needed to draw the line somewhere. You had to when it came to dealing with alpha idiots like Quinn. And she should know; she managed an office full of alpha idiots just like him.
Then again, making a big deal out of it seemed not smart either.
“Fine,” she said. “I supposed I could stretch to a coffee.”
“We don’t have time for power plays, baby. Get your ass downstairs.”
“What did I say about the baby thing?”
Quinn’s eyes gleamed. “You’re sitting in my bed, wearing my T-shirt, and asking for my help. I’ll call you whatever I damn well please.”
Something inside her shifted restlessly at the note of authority in his voice, but she ignored it. There were plenty of ways to shut Quinn Redmond up and she’d made a study of all of them.
“Okay.” She flung the sheet off of her and slid out of bed, walking slowly over to where he stood. “Whatever you say, hotshot.” She paused in front of him, not too close and yet not too far, just enough to taunt him with her physical presence. “Got any pants to go with that T-shirt?”
He didn’t move, the look on his face betraying nothing. Then, very pointedly, his gaze dropped down her body, following her slight curves as closely as a race car driver following a racetrack.
Despite herself, she felt her own breathing accelerate.
Dammit. That was the problem with using their chemistry as a weapon. That crap went both ways.
She arched a brow, ignoring the heat gathering inside her, hoping like hell he wouldn’t notice the blush in her cheeks.
But he seemed more interested in her chest, his gaze lingering there. Didn’t take a genius to figure out why; her bra was thin and lacy, with no padding at all, and the room wasn’t exactly cold.
There was a deep emerald glitter in his eyes as he lifted his attention back to her face, one corner of his beautifully sensual mouth curving. As if he knew exactly what that slow look had done to her and what it was doing to her still. “I could look. But I’ll tell you right now that I got nothing that’s going to fit.”
Bastard.
She was very tempted to one-up him. Grab some of the power she’d felt slipping through her fingers the past few months that this blackmail nightmare had been going on for.
God, she could really use some power right now.
Sadly though, one-upping Quinn Redmond using sex was just as likely to rebound on her, especially considering she was at a low ebb. She needed to be far stronger than she was now if she was going to be using her femininity.
The way her luck was going, if she did what she wanted to do and run a finger down that rock hard chest of his, she’d probably end up flat on her back on the bed, with him on top of her and both of them naked.
Face it. You’d love that.
Her body might, but then she’d have lost her one advantage — the fact they hadn’t slept together yet — and if there was one thing her father had taught her it was to never give up an advantage.
She shrugged, ignoring his flat-out sexy, crooked grin. “Pity. Guess pantsless it is.”
And she sauntered past him, heading through the double doors that led out into his suite and toward the exit.
“Rush is downstairs,” Quinn said casually. “Just FYI.”
Lily didn’t even break stride.
Power was all about appearances. About control and confidence. Yes, she liked her pencil skirts and blouses because they were her armor. They helped her feel more in control. But her control didn’t solely come from her clothing, it came from her. And it didn’t matter what she was wearing; if she looked like she was confident and in control, then she was.
Pulling open the door, she strode through it, moving through the upper hallway and down the stairs, heading toward the hotel’s big, industrial sized kitchen.
She was about to push through the kitchen’s double doors doors when she abruptly remembered why she hadn’t wanted anyone to know she was here. And that if Rush was indeed in the vicinity, then he was likely to be asking a lot of questions. Namely why she was here, dressed only in Quinn’s T-shirt, at what was probably way too early in the morning.
Yes, she’d definitely been a bit hasty.
But then it was too late, because a deep male voice said from behind her, “Duchess? Is that…you?”
Goddammit.
Confidence and control, remember?
Lily took a silent breath, fixed her usual cool smile in place, and turned around.
A tall man stood in the hallway behind her. He had deep tawny gold hair, startling turquoise eyes, and a genuinely shocked expression on his scarred, handsome face. Which was the most unusual thing about him since there wasn’t much that shocked Rush Redmond, Quinn’s middle brother.
“Holy shit,” he said, staring at her. “What happened to your hair? No, actually, forget about your hair. Where the fuck are your pants?”
“The location of my pants is none of your business.”
But Rush’s expression was already changing, his long mouth curving in a smile that made Lily deeply uneasy. “No, wait. I know what’s going on. Fuck, have I won? Or is it that motherfucker Rhys? He swore he didn’t put any money in, but I saw him sneak a twenty in last week. Nora’s way off and so’s Rose, and West didn’t want to play. So, yeah, it’s me and Rhys.”
“Rush,” Lily said coolly. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The office sweepstake.” Rush was grinning like a lunatic. “On when you and Quinn would finally screw each other’s brains out. Oh, don’t tell me you didn’t know about it. Fucking hell, it was the worst kept secret in the entire universe.”
Of course she knew about the office sweepstake. She’d known about it for months and had ignored it since no one was ever going to win, not if she could help it.
“So, how lon
g have you been screwing him?” Rush charged on before she could speak. “And don’t stint on the details, please. It’s for science.”
Lily opened her mouth to tell him what he could do with his science, when another deep, male voice said, “Since last night. And the only details you’ll be getting are two words.” Quinn strolled past his brother, coming unhurriedly in Lily’s direction. “Fucking. Sensational. Right, baby?”
Lily blinked, her mouth half open as Quinn calmly took control of the situation by sliding an arm around her waist and drawing her up against him.
Then she couldn’t think of anything to say. Not a single damn thing. Because his large, warm hand was on her hip and the whole side of his body was pressed to hers, and it was like being held against hot iron. He was hard and the heat of him was apparently…a whole thing.
She took a breath, then another, trying to force air into her lungs. Trying not to gasp as his fingers spread out possessively on her hip and every nerve ending she had came alive. She was aware of everything. From the rough denim of his jeans pressing down the side of her leg to the hardness of the muscle beneath his T-shirt. The exact distance between the tip of his middle finger and the hem of her own T-shirt. The feel of his powerful arm around her waist and the subtle strength in it.
Every instinct she had was telling her to pull away and get some distance, but there was no mistaking the firmness of Quinn’s grip. He clearly wanted her firmly at his side and was making no bones about it.
“Last night?” Rush looked at his brother. “Excellent. That’ll earn me a cool two hundred. Rhys can fucking suck it.”
“Yeah, I don’t give a shit.” Quinn shrugged and Lily felt his fingers tighten on her as he turned them both toward the kitchen doors. “Just fuck off and leave us in peace, there’s a good boy.”
Then, mercifully, Quinn was pulling her through the doors and into the kitchen.
Lily couldn’t help it, as soon as they shut she jerked herself violently out of his grip, not caring what it would give away, wanting only to put some distance between them, her heart thundering in her chest.
Black Sheep Bounty Hunter Page 3