|
thank you we dont whant to troble you uploaded when you can
|
CHAPTER FOUR
‘THAT’S it, then.’ Quinn loosened his seat belt and leant back in his seat with a sigh. He pressed a finger to the permanent indentation between his dark brows; his head ached dully after the lengthy period of intense concentration. Rowena looked from Quinn’s remote profile to the snow silently building up on the windscreen. ‘It can’t be!’ she cried, adjusting the angle of the overhead light as she consulted the map that lay open on her lap. ‘There must be another way. It stands to reason.’ Even as she spoke Rowena recognised the futility of her protest. Quinn reached across and closed the book. ‘This car isn’t going any farther, Rowena,’ he said gently. ‘We’re stuck.’ So far closed roads and the police had made them re-route three times, and gradually they’d got farther and farther off their original route. ‘But…’ Quinn shook his head firmly. The snow had now completely covered the windscreen, lending an eerie white glow to the interior of the car. Even though the heater was pumping out heat, Rowena shivered. ‘It’s not negotiable, sweetheart, we’re stuck. We’ll just have to sit tight until someone rescues us. It’ll be light in an hour or so.’ They wouldn’t be the only ones waiting for rescue; they’d passed several vehicles along the way in a similar predicament. ‘And when will that be, do you think?’ Rowena quavered hoarsely as her mind began to actively contemplate the hours ahead. It wasn’t the physical discomforts of the situation that filled her with horror. Actually, horror was inadequate to describe her feelings as she thought about the hours ahead stranded in the car with Quinn. Her stomach muscles, sensitive to the frisson of sexual heat that shot through her tensed frame, tightened. Quinn shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea,’ he admitted, shifting his position to ease the tension that was tying the muscles in his neck in knots. His mellow soothing tone irritated the hell out of Rowena. ‘Don’t you care?’ ‘Naturally I care, I just don’t see much point getting hysterical. Or would you prefer me to panic?’ A nerve in his cheek thrummed as he recalled how close he’d been to doing so when her car had gone into that skid. Quinn panicking—no, I don’t think so! Another time the idea would have made her laugh. Quinn was cool and competence personified. ‘I’m sure this is nothing to a man who makes life and death decisions for a living, but humour me, Quinn, I’m only the girl who writes about the latest fashion craze!’ One dark brow quirked as he shifted in his seat to face her properly. ‘Do I detect a shade of disillusionment…?’ he wondered, sounding surprised. ‘You do not!’ she denied forcefully. She moderated her tone, aware she could be accused of sounding like the lady who protesteth just a tad too much. ‘And, just for the record, I am not getting hysterical. I’m merely showing a normal degree of concern. What are you doing now?’ ‘I’m going to make sure the exhaust is clear of snow,’ he explained, zipping his jacket up to his chin. ‘The last thing we need is the car filling up with carbon monoxide. You stay put,’ he added, fishing a torch from his pocket. Rowena sketched an angry mock salute, which he acknowledged with an undisturbed grin. Where, she felt like asking, did he think she was about to go? She rubbed a small hole in the condensation that had built up on her window, and, nose almost pressed to the glass, watched him make his way to the rear of the vehicle through the thigh-deep snow that surrounded their stranded vehicle. Waiting impatiently for him to reappear, she exhaled against the glass and began to idly doodle in the fogged window. It wasn’t until she saw his tall figure re-materialise that she registered what she’d drawn on the glass. A giant heart pierced with an arrow and the initials RP and QT inside it stared accusingly back at her. With a horrified gasp Rowena rubbed out the childish, incriminating evidence and settled back in her seat before the door opened—either she was exhibiting early symptoms of cabin fever or her subconscious was in a sorry state! ‘Sorted,’ Quinn revealed a short time later as, shaking his head to release the snow clinging to his dark hair and eyelashes, he slid smoothly back into his seat. ‘Next we let the appropriate authorities know where we are.’ Rowena only had the vaguest of ideas who the appropriate authorities might be, but Quinn seemed confident he did. She watched as he withdrew his phone from his breast pocket and punched in a number. ‘The battery’s too low,’ he revealed after a few fruitless attempts. Rowena folded her arms protectively across her chest and discovered she was shaking. ‘Well, that’s just great, isn’t it?’ ‘So this is my fault now, is it?’ Rowena flushed with guilt and caught her lower lip between her teeth as she encountered his ironic, irritated stare. Did he think she needed it spelling out that she was to blame for their predicament? To her discomfort he pursued the topic further. ‘I suppose you’d prefer to be stuck in the middle of nowhere alone…?’ Rowena gulped. ‘Is that where we are?’ she whispered fearfully. ‘In the middle of nowhere?’ This wouldn’t have come as a shock to a brighter person, she concluded, averting her eyes from the emptiness of the dark bleak landscape outside her window. ‘You tell me, you were the navigator.’ She looked so stricken that Quinn wished he’d resisted the temptation to wind her up. Actually it wasn’t Rowena he was annoyed with, it was himself. He couldn’t blame his own actions on ignorance; it had been obvious from the outset that this insane journey had been doomed to failure. The only thing that had persuaded him to play ball was the sneaking suspicion that Rowena was quite capable of bribing some other idiot to help her if he didn’t—or, worse still, trying the journey on her own the minute his back was turned! The problem was Rowena was just too used to getting her own way. ‘Well, actually, I sort of lost track…’ One dark brow rose satirically as she fumbled for words. ‘All right,’ she conceded with a sigh. ‘I’ve not the faintest idea where we are.’ ‘I’ve got a confession to make too…’ I bet it’s not as spectacular as the one I’ve got to make some time soon! How long, Rowena wondered bleakly, was she going to be able to keep her secret? It didn’t help when every time she looked at Quinn her conscience gave her hell. She silently cursed the cruel fate that had conspired to throw them together this way. How could she tell Quinn she was expecting his baby when she still hadn’t had time to come to terms with it herself? ‘I already kind of suspected that you had no idea where we were.’ ‘Because I’m a female and therefore incapable of reading a map, I suppose.’ ‘It was a joke, Rowena. The usual response is a laugh—you ought to try it some time.’ His eyes drifted towards her mouth. His body responded helplessly to the sight of the soft pink contours. ‘I don’t know how you can joke about something like this,’ she choked, lifting resentful eyes to his face and discovering in the process that he didn’t look amused. His shifting expression revealed a totally unexpected gleam of raw hunger and hurriedly she looked away, her heart thudding scarily fast. ‘There is nothing even vaguely amusing about this situation as far as I can see,’ she said, forcing the words past the aching congested feeling in her throat. She viewed a mental graph charting her day’s achievements—it didn’t make happy reading. She’d set out to escape Quinn and reach Gran—she’d failed spectacularly on both counts. One minor consolation, she thought, was when you hit rock bottom things couldn’t get worse… Quinn looked slightly taken aback by her hissing animosity. ‘Never heard of laughing in the face of adversity, Rowena?’ Rowena snorted and refused point-blank to respond to his cajoling words or meet his eyes. ‘Well, I always say—’ ‘Something deep and profound, no doubt,’ she muttered. One dark brow quirked but he didn’t respond to her sarcasm. ‘Don’t waste time worrying over things you have no control over.’ ‘Profound…I was right.’ Annoyance stirred deep in Quinn’s emerald eyes. ‘This situation will be a lot easier to endure if you keep the smart backchat and cynicism to the bare minimum.’ Rowena heard the unspoken or else in his voice and her jaw tightened belligerently. ‘It would be a lot easier,’ she snapped back, ‘if you didn’t treat me like a child.’ ‘Have you listened to yourself lately, sweetheart? I’ve heard more mature comments from sulky seven-year-olds.’ Rowena flushed in annoyance as she reluctantly acknowledged there was more than a little justification in his accusation. ‘I know you’re anxious about your grandmother, but sitting here feeling sorry for ourselves and scoring points isn’t going to get us far.’ And pretending nothing was wrong would? ‘No, that’ll take a snowplough, and I’m not feeling sorry for myself.’ Quinn’s arm brushed against her leg as he leaned between their seats into the rear of the car, and the brief contact made her hopelessly responsive nerve endings surge into tingling life. Rowena couldn’t control the survival instinct that made her shrink protectively back in her seat—she hoped Quinn hadn’t noticed. ‘What are you doing now?’ she asked. He shot her a brief, unsmiling glance. ‘Concentrating on some of those things we do have some control over.’ He hefted his holdall onto his lap and unzipped it. ‘The petrol’s low, so we can’t leave the engine running indefinitely. It’s going to get cold so we should add a few layers.’ He pulled out several items of clothing. Snapping a sales tag off a crew-necked lightweight thermal fleece, he dropped it in Rowena’s lap. ‘Put that one on. It may not be your first choice in this season’s leisure wear but it’s better than hypothermia. Besides, if we don’t stay warm we might be obliged to raise our body temperatures in the good old-fashioned, time-tested manner…’ Rowena rubbed the fine smooth fabric absently between her fingers. Her blue eyes remained innocently uncomprehending; the faintest suggestion of a frown line above her neat aquiline nose deepened fractionally as their glances collided. ‘Skin to skin contact,’ he elaborated. The mocking smile that revealed a set of even white teeth didn’t reach his eyes. ‘The last resort…or the first, depending on your point of view…’ A rosy bloom washed away the pearly, almost opalescent sheen of her fair skin. ‘Oh!’ In her head she could see the contrast of pale fair skin against dark olive-toned flesh…She blinked hard to dispel the disturbing images. ‘And I got the impression just now you wouldn’t welcome that.’ He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. It was not encouraging to have the woman he was running after cringe away from his touch. He had noticed her shrinking back in her seat and now he thought she didn’t like him touching her! How ironic was that? ‘I could tell you how my skin craves your touch…’ She cleared her throat and her voice unexpectedly fell from faltering falsetto to husky rasp. ‘But I’m afraid, Quinn, I don’t have the time or inclination to soothe fragile male egos!’ Her scornful glare grew limp around the edges as she saw her contemptuous sarcasm had not cut him to the quick. Actually, all of a sudden he was oozing very male satisfaction and looking scarily confident! ‘Don’t worry, Rowena, I haven’t made out in a car since I was a teenager, and I’ve no intention of reacquainting myself with the joys now.’ Meaning I’m no major temptation! Terrific! She was horrified to catch herself contemplating just how long it would take her to make Mr Iron Control Tyler eat his words…and maybe her too! ‘I never have,’ she revealed absently as she slipped off her jacket prior to pulling on the fleece. ‘Never have what?’ Quinn selected a few more items before zipping up the bag and flinging it over his head. ‘Made out in a car,’ she elaborated, pulling the top over her head. She smoothed down her ruffled hair and found that Quinn was looking at her with a startled expression. ‘Never…?’ She shook her head. ‘Your education really was neglected, love.’ The expression in his eyes was making her nervous. It might be her imagination, but to Rowena it suggested that Quinn wouldn’t mind filling in the gaps in her education personally. ‘It’s hardly an obligatory development milestone and I had more important things than groping on my mind in my teens,’ she told him with lofty scorn. ‘Aren’t you curious?’ ‘Not even slightly,’ she said, clumsily drawing her padded jacket on over the fleece. ‘Well, if you change your mind…’ Rowena flushed to the roots of her hair. Laughing to himself, Quinn began adding his own layers. The sound of his deep laughter made her grit her teeth. In her line of work, Rowena had flirted with film stars and discussed the global economy with statesmen; she could hold her own in the most sophisticated of company and she didn’t enjoy the novel experience of being made to feel like a gauche, inexperienced adolescent. ‘Shall we pool our supplies?’ Quinn asked once he was satisfied Rowena was insulated to his satisfaction, which involved the addition of several layers of unattractive clothing. He laid out two chocolate bars and a packet of mints on the dashboard. ‘I suppose you’re on a permanent diet.’ He sounded resigned. ‘Nothing remotely resembling carbohydrate or sugar in your pockets?’ ‘I don’t diet, but neither do I fill my pockets with junk food on the off chance I get cut off by a blizzard.’ ‘Have you not got anything useful on your person?’ ‘Perhaps it would have been more sensible to ask me that before you made me pile on the layers. I feel like a mummy,’ Rowena complained. Head on one side, he considered her suggestion. ‘Nah,’ he denied. ‘You look like one of those little nests of cute Russian dolls. What are they called…?’ ‘I’m not sure, but the way I recall it they don’t have waists.’ She glanced down at her own disguised by the bulk of her clothes and went a little paler as she remembered that her own would most likely be just a memory soon. ‘No slur on your waistline intended,’ he soothed, amused by this unusual display of feminine vanity. ‘You know, I had a set of them when I was a kid. Removing the outer layers never lost its appeal for me…’ His indolent drawl, laced with sexual innuendo, had Rowena shivering under her layers and frantically breaking contact with those mesmeric eyes of his—eyes that carried a message not nearly as innocent as his words. ‘I thought dolls were for girls,’ she mocked, looking away, her cheeks self-consciously pink. ‘My parents are the couple least likely to be heard saying boys will be boys. They were dead against sexual stereotyping of any type,’ he explained solemnly. ‘I was encouraged to be in touch with my feminine side from an early age, and I’d say,’ he admitted with a provocative leer, ‘that on the whole it paid dividends.’ ‘I doubt very much if your parents had those sort of dividends in mind,’ she observed with a disgusted sniff. ‘They could give you some lessons in not being narrow-minded,’ he shot back. ‘I’m not narrow-minded because I find your bed-hopping lifestyle distasteful,’ she countered austerely. A look of sardonic amusement gradually spread across his face as his green eyes searched her flushed features. ‘You’re jealous!’ He laughed with throaty masculine delight. Rowena’s mouth was actually open to hotly deny this ridiculous claim when a thrill of shocked recognition shot through her body—he was right! The thought of Quinn with other women brought out the green-eyed monster in her. ‘Nothing,’ she lied shakily, ‘could be farther from the truth. I don’t envy your conquests, I just wish like hell I hadn’t been one of them. In fact,’ she added, warming to her theme, ‘if I could go back and erase one moment in my life it would be that one in New York!’ She heard the hissing sound of Quinn’s furious inhalation, deeply regretful of what she’d said and just as deeply determined not to retract it. ‘And that would be because you hated every minute of it…?’ With eyes like ice chips and a harsh, scathing frown on his face, Quinn still looked sinfully attractive—in fact, if she was totally honest, the menace added an element of not unattractive danger. ‘Yes…no…you know I didn’t. You’re a perfect lover! Happy now?’ she asked, her voice thick with resentment. ‘Not especially. If it was so damned perfect, why do you want to erase it?’ Shaking her head, Rowena turned away from the simmering fury in his frustrated glare. Chin cupped in her hands, she rocked forward in her seat and sighed. When she lifted her head Quinn was shocked to see the sparkle of tears on the end of her long eyelashes. ‘If it hadn’t happened my life wouldn’t be so complicated.’ Quinn gave a snort of disgust. ‘What is it with you? Don’t you allow for any spontaneity at all in your life?’ His easy contempt brought all her fear and resentment rushing to the surface. How easy it was for him, how simple—he wasn’t the one carrying a baby; he wasn’t the one whose life had jumped about a hundred scary miles off track! ‘I have no intention of making excuses for the way I am to you or anybody else, and I don’t share your fondness for spontaneity, Quinn, which is hardly surprising. If I hadn’t been so spontaneous I wouldn’t be pregnant!’ she yelled. There was a delay of perhaps twenty seconds before Quinn’s head went back as though she’d landed a blow on his jaw—or maybe somewhere even more sensitive. Clamping a hand over her mouth, she watched the healthy colour seep from his face until his bronzed skin looked almost greyish. Rowena’s own colour wasn’t looking too healthy. Saying it out loud had suddenly made the pregnancy scarily real; until this moment she’d been able to file the facts away for future consideration. That was no longer possible; the situation had suddenly been catapulted into the here and now! ‘Oh, God! I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that…’ Was there a gentle way of telling someone he was going to be a father? ‘But you made me so angry…’ Looking curiously vacant, Quinn’s glazed sea-green eyes fixed frowningly on her face. ‘Pregnant…?’ He caught his breath in a long sibilant hiss. ‘You did say pregnant…? With my baby?’ Rowena flinched. The question hurt her more than she had thought possible. ‘Sorry, but there are no other candidates.’ She rubbed a shaky, distracted hand over her forehead and felt the clammy dampness of her skin. She shook her head. ‘Forget I said anything,’ she instructed him with a bitter little laugh. ‘This is my problem.’ ‘Forget!’ Rowena could almost feel the waves of incredulous fury emanating from his rigid frame. ‘So this is why you’ve been avoiding me. This is why you wouldn’t speak to me…When were you going to tell me?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Or weren’t you going to tell me…?’ This was just the start! Rowena shook her head and closed her eyes, envisaging the inevitable recriminations, arguments and ultimatums, and the unstable concoction of fear, hurt and unacknowledged yearning that she’d been keeping a lid on over the past few weeks suddenly exploded. Tears began to cascade silently down her alabaster-pale cheeks until with a husky cry she tore open the car door and, oblivious to Quinn’s harsh warning cries, she stepped out into the darkness. It didn’t matter that she had nowhere to run to—the instinct to run away went beyond logic. Actually it was more a matter of stumbling than running. The snow was still falling in a blinding horizontal sheet and it was lying a good two feet deep on the ground—considerably deeper where it had drifted. The world was white on black, but not silent black or still white, but a noisy, roaring, inhospitable place that filled her ears with a constant howl and almost drowned out the thunderous thump of her own heartbeat. She struggled onwards, her head bowed against the biting intensity of the driving snow, which bit into her skin like sharp ice pellets. Rowena concentrated on her feet, picking them up one at a time, and taking the next step. If she thought at all it was just about keeping going and picking herself up when she stumbled. The picking herself up part rapidly became more and more difficult. When it came to the point where every step was agony and each breath made her feel as if her lungs were on fire, perhaps someone with less guts and sheer pigheaded stubbornness would have lain down quietly in the soft snow, but it didn’t occur to Rowena even for one second to give up—she was not one of life’s quitters. The dry stone wall she encountered suddenly offered a little respite from the worst of the wind. She squatted down behind it trying to catch her breath and pondering glumly on the reckless stupidity of her actions. The logic that had told her escaping from the safety of the car was a really good idea was growing fuzzier by the second. Now she had the leisure to think, it finally dawned on her that she was in very real danger. The chain of events that had led her, the accomplished editor of a world-famous magazine, to this place was of secondary importance. What she needed to focus her thoughts on was getting herself back to the car. Where was the car? She gulped and pushed aside the gibbering fear that was just a whisper away. She’d done the wrong thing; now it was time to do the right thing. There was a right thing to do in the circumstances, wasn’t there…? Her racing brain retrieved the useful memory of a documentary she’d recently watched about people who’d survived in far worse situations than this. The tale of a chap who had survived for three nights in sub-zero temperatures on Snowdonia had featured prominently. Of course, she was neither well equipped nor an ex-SAS member, which made the link tenuous—but how hard could it be to dig a hole in the snow and sit tight…? She shivered and wished she’d paid more attention to the survival details they’d described at the time. Noticing that the blackness around was less dense, she stood up and, braving the worst of the buffeting chilly wind, scanned the bleak landscape for some clue as to which way she’d come, or some sign of life, a house…anything! She was about to sink back down, her spirits rock-bottom, when she caught a glimpse of movement. Heart racing hopefully, she lifted a hand to shield her eyes and squinted through the blizzard. She gave a sob of relief as she made out the definite outline of a tall figure moving parallel to her. It was impossible to make out any details but Rowena was sure it was Quinn; it had to be Quinn. Rowena saw no conflict between her craving to find a safe haven in Quinn’s arms and her recent, equally strong desire to flee from him. He’s coming for me. Her blissful anticipation of rescue was short-lived. It didn’t take her long to figure out that if he carried on in that direction he’d not see her at all. The situation called for immediate action. She leapt to her feet, waving her warms above her head. Her cries were whipped away by the wind. The solitary figure, battling through the elements on the course that would take him away from her, remained oblivious to her wild gesticulations and cries. She had to get to him. The burst of adrenaline that surged through her body enabled her to keep going longer than would otherwise have been possible, but eventually not even Rowena’s legendary determination could keep her on her feet. Lying face down in the snow, so exhausted she couldn’t lift a finger, Rowena felt the tears seep from between her closed eyelids and for the first time in her life contemplated defeat. The tears hadn’t been flowing very long when she felt a large hand clamp over her shoulder. A moment later she was hauled bodily to her feet. Big, capable gloved hands cupped her face and brushed the snow from it. Rowena found herself looking into a grim face that looked harsh enough to be carved from the savage elements. Snow clung to Quinn’s long eyelashes and dark brows, his skin looked especially dark in contrast, and his sea-green eyes glittered like gems. ‘Quinn,’ she mouthed weakly, but nothing audible emerged as her lips moved stiffly. Closing her eyes, she let her body sag limply against him. She felt his chest lift as a powerful sigh juddered through his body, then his arms closed tightly about her. For a moment they stood that way, his breath warm against her cheek as her heartbeat slowed to a frantic canter. For a short, blissful time Rowena completely forgot the storm raging around them. Too soon he was pushing her away and his keen gaze was skimming urgently over her face as his hands moved in a similarly capable, clinical manner over her body, checking for injuries. He couldn’t see any signs of injury, but…‘Are you hurt?’ Rowena sensed his bellowed question rather than heard it as his words were snatched away by an extra-strong gust of wind. It was crazy, she reflected. Nothing essentially had changed about her situation, it was still fraught with danger—danger of her own making! Even a man like Quinn, who only saw problems as things to be solved rather than insurmountable obstacles, couldn’t subdue the elements, but somehow his mere presence made a positive outcome to the situation seem inevitable. Quinn saw her shake her head to indicate her unharmed condition, and relief more intense than anything he had ever felt before flooded through him. She was all right—he could afford to be angry now. Rowena recoiled from the lick of fury in his eyes. ‘Have your lost your mind, woman?’ he asked with hoarse incredulity. Better lose my mind than my heart, she thought glumly. ‘How far is the car?’ As her own stupidity was not something she could defend it seemed appropriate to change the subject. Quinn frowned and brought his face down to level with hers. His nose nudged hers and she felt his exhaled breath warm on her icily numb face. She repeated her question. ‘Not far—and I’ve an excellent sense of direction,’ he replied. There was little point panicking her. He’d been too busy concentrating on following Rowena’s tracks in the snow, which were being covered at a terrifyingly rapid rate, to look out for landmarks. ‘That means you’ve no idea either,’ she translated. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be desperately woodsy? What about those back-to-nature stints you were always taking—communing with nature and all that rubbish?’ Quinn didn’t reply. He just turned up the fur-trimmed collar of her jacket and, taking her face firmly between his hands, kissed her hard on the lips. His lips have to be cold, so mine must be colder, Rowena surmised vaguely as his warm mouth moved in a very expert fashion against her own lips, which parted easily under his probing assault. His thrusting tongue hungrily sought the deep recesses of her open mouth and the warm, lethargic feeling that had spread through her treacherously co-operative body morphed into hot, liquid fire. With a throaty cry she pressed her supple body up against him and moulded herself to the hard, inflexible contours of his male body. A small moan of protest emerged from her lips when he stopped kissing her and lifted his head. ‘My God, woman, but you do choose your moments!’ Quinn breathed, a wry smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. ‘You started it.’ And finished it! She cleared her throat, embarrassed by the recognition that she’d displayed considerably less will-power than him. After a brief glance into her antagonistic face Quinn pulled the thermal-lined leather gloves off his own hands and slid them onto her icy extremities. Her mouth opened in protest. ‘But…’ ‘For once in your life, shut up!’ he advised, giving her collar a final tweak. Rowena was still in a submissively shocked, post-kiss condition when he heaved all five feet ten of her casually across his shoulder, fireman fashion, and strode off. ‘Comfy?’ he bellowed over his shoulder. ‘No!’ Rowena hit his broad back with her fists a couple of times and yelled insults about Neanderthals, but it was a purely token protest. It might be a very ungainly form of transport, but she was too exhausted to raise any serious objections to this treatment. Fortunately there was nobody about to see her ignominious position, for if there had been her credibility as a serious feminist would have been shot to hell! She settled herself into as comfortable a position as was possible and comforted herself with the fact she could blame any future kissing incidents on the prolonged rush of blood to the head she was experiencing. Quinn soon realised that the odds on them finding their way back to the car were remote. His eyes methodically scanned the horizon, searching for some form of shelter as he tramped carefully onward. His thoughts were growing grim when he caught his first glimpse of the chimney stack just visible behind the copse of trees. He judged it couldn’t be more than a hundred metres or so away. Rowena felt him pause and change direction. She lifted her head. ‘What is it?’ she mouthed, craning her head around at an angle to get a glimpse of his profile. Rowena followed the direction of his gaze when he jerked his head in the direction of the dark patch of skeletal trees up ahead. She couldn’t see anything, but Quinn obviously could and she was prepared to take it on faith; Quinn wasn’t the type to hallucinate. She mimed her desire to get down and after a moment he acquiesced. With his arm around her waist hugging her to his side, they made their way towards the small copse. It felt to Rowena as if it took for ever, but eventually they reached a small rusty gate that led up what, before the snow, might have been a garden path to the front door of the stone cottage that the chimney stack was attached to. By this time it was slightly more morning than night, and the pale grey dawn light made it easier to assess their surroundings. Quinn pulled the hood back from his head and scanned the unfriendly aspect of the building. Rowena did the same, displaying far less objectivity about the closed and deserted look of the house than he was. ‘It doesn’t look as if anyone’s at home,’ she quavered as her heart sank. Her spirits lifted a little as she recalled the uncivilised hour. ‘But they’d be in bed, wouldn’t they?’ ‘Possibly,’ Quinn agreed, sparing her the briefest of glances. ‘If so we’re about to wake them up.’ He manoeuvred his way past a snow-covered garden trough filled with ice-encrusted Christmas roses and hammered on the front door. There was no reply. ‘Stop there. I’ll go and check around the back.’ His perceptive glance swivelled back to her face. ‘You got a problem with that?’ Rowena closed her mouth and swallowed back the instinctive protest on her tongue. She shook her head firmly as if the idea of being left alone didn’t make her as jumpy as hell. Her chin went up. ‘I’ll be fine.’ ‘Good girl,’ he approved, his eyes crinkling deliciously as he smiled warmly at her. She watched worriedly as he edged his way around the far corner of the building. His shoulder caught the branch of a snow-laden tree and dumped its entire covering onto the ground, almost blocking the path he’d just taken. She stamped her feet on the ground. They’d be really painful when the circulation began to return—if it ever began to return. No, cancel the if. Be positive, Rowena! Quinn was probably not gone much more than five minutes, but to Rowena it felt like a lot longer. When she heard the unmistakable sounds of the bolts on the front door being pushed back she smiled from pure, delirious relief and rubbed her gloved hands together in eager anticipation. When the door swung inwards the heavy snow lying against it fell inside the room with a rush. Quinn appeared. ‘Someone was in,’ she cried, standing back while he kicked some of the powdery snow back outside. ‘No.’ ‘No?’ A frown creased the smoothness of her wide brow ‘Then how…?’ A hand shot out and pulled her unceremonially inside. Rubbing her arm, Rowena glared at Quinn as he closed the door against the elements. ‘I broke in,’ he explained, turning back to her once the process was completed. Rowena’s eyes widened. ‘B-but you can’t just break in…’ she stuttered, her law-abiding instincts deeply shocked by his casual disclosure. She blinked as he shone a torch across her face. ‘There’s no electricity but I found this. Take it,’ he added, pushing a second torch into her hands. ‘You stole it.’ ‘If you’re going to be pedantic, I borrowed it,’ he responded in reply to her disapproving retort. ‘What would you suggest we do, Rowena?’ Quinn asked, sounding exasperated. ‘Stumble around in the dark, or maybe freeze to death outside?’ ‘No, of course not, but—’ ‘No buts about it,’ Quinn retorted, handing her the torch and turning to pull open a heavy curtain from a window.’ ‘Heavens!’ Rowena exclaimed, taking note of the room she was standing in for the first time. ‘Yeah, not what you expect, is it?’ It certainly wasn’t. The modest exterior of the building gave little hint of the fact that the inside of what must originally have been a pretty humble cottage had been virtually ripped out to leave one large open-plan living area on the ground floor. The flagstone floors were scattered with a selection of good quality, bright ethnic rugs. The original artwork on the stone walls was equally colourful and the eclectic mixture of furniture shrieked expensive. ‘I wonder who lives here?’ ‘Well, whoever does, they weren’t expecting visitors.’ Rowena responded with automatic antagonism to his authoritative tone. ‘How do you know?’ ‘Only one bed.’ He nodded towards the polished wood staircase that led upstairs. ‘A big bed,’ he added, a definite note of amused approval in his voice. ‘How can you think about beds at a time like this?’ she asked, trying hard not to let her mind dwell on the joint subject of Quinn and large beds. ‘I was thinking of the lack of spare beds—not what goes on in them.’ I wasn’t, Rowena admitted to herself. Shivering, she continued to examine their surroundings while Quinn began to open up the rest of the curtains. The south-facing wall of the room turned out to be almost totally glass, and it had the effect of bringing the outdoors into the room. Rowena could see how that might be rather nice on a sunlit evening, or even on a terrible snowy evening if the heating was on full blast and there was a big fire in the hearth, but right now it made her shiver uncontrollably and look away. It was hard not to think about what might have been if Quinn hadn’t found her. Quinn looked around, mentally prioritising. For the moment personal interests had to be of secondary importance. ‘It could be worse,’ he conceded, rubbing his hands together. ‘Next…a bit of heat, I think,’ he decided after a moment’s practical reflection. He opened the doors of the black cast-iron wood burner that sat in the big stone inglenook and found it laid ready to light. Another quick search revealed a convenient box of matches on top of the log basket on the hearth. He waited until the tinder inside caught and closed the door and turned to Rowena. ‘We can’t just make ourselves at home, Quinn,’ Rowena fretted. ‘If it makes you any happier you can make a full inventory of any items we use and we can leave our phone numbers. You could start now—item one, two matches…’ ‘I suppose…’ she began dubiously. Quinn’s dark brows slated satirically. ‘I was joking.’ ‘Well, I’m not, and what if the owners come home and find us…squatting?’ Unable to stop shivering violently, Rowena moved closer to the giant room heater, which was beginning to chuck out a little warmth—just enough to stop her breath freezing quite so obviously in the air. ‘That’s hardly likely, given the weather conditions, but if they do it’ll save me the bother of finding the fuse box. Not that it’s likely to help. I suspect we can put the lack of power down to a localised cut. Or maybe not so local,’ he mused thoughtfully. ‘The snow’s probably brought half the lines in the county down.’ Rowena searched his face and found no signs of the guilty discomfort she was experiencing. She found it incredible he could just walk into someone else’s home and not feel like a thief, and she envied him. ‘Doesn’t it bother you at all that we’re breaking and entering?’ ‘I’d prefer to see myself featured in the tabloids as a daring housebreaker than a frozen corpse,’ he admitted frankly. When it was put like that, her concerns did seem trivial. ‘Which reminds me…’ Rowena watched as his dark glossy head bent. He began systematically opening the doors of the handsome maple kitchen cupboards until, with a grunt of triumph, he emerged with a thick piece of card, which after a bit of judicious trimming he proceeded to jam in the hole in the window he had smashed to get inside. Rowena smiled reluctantly as she slowly stretched her aching limbs. No number of hours dutifully—some would say obsessively—spent in the gym had prepared her well-toned thigh and calf muscles for tramping through snow. ‘Are you sure you haven’t done this before?’ Quinn turned, his narrowed eyes focusing on her face. ‘Today’s just full of firsts…’ he revealed unsmilingly. It wasn’t hard to catch his drift. Rowena’s breath escaped in one long silent hiss, her hands curled tightly inside the too-big gloves as she tensed expectantly, but to her relief he didn’t pursue the subject. ‘I don’t suppose that jacket is waterproof?’ ‘Maybe not, but it’s in this season’s must have colour…’ she explained, tongue firmly in cheek. ‘Do you like it? I got my usual thirty per cent discount…’ Quinn liked what was in it. ‘Nice to see you haven’t lost your sense of humour.’ ‘I didn’t think you thought I had one.’ She stopped, shaking too hard to continue. Quinn silently berated himself for standing around chatting while she was freezing. ‘You must be wet to the skin,’ he announced after subjecting her dejected figure to a searching scrutiny. ‘We need to get you out of them and into dry things,’ he said, concern in his eyes despite his brusque tone. ‘Pity there’s no hot water. What you could do with is a really hot bath…’ His voice trailed off. Despite the fact Quinn was an exceptionally disciplined man and he knew his main priority was doing everything within his means to ensure their survival, he couldn’t evict a maverick image from his mind of the long hot steamy bath they’d shared that night in his hotel room in New York. It took all his will-power to finally dispel the image of Rowena, her sultry smile just about visible through the wet strands of hair plastered across her face the moment before she’d thrown her head back and stretched her arms languorously above her head. The action had drawn her firm breasts upwards as he’d allowed the water cupped in his hands to slowly fall over the rosy-tipped quivering peaks. ‘Quinn…Quinn…are you all right?’ The odd glazed expression slid from his eyes as he gave his head a tiny shake and focused on Rowena’s concerned face. ‘Did you say something?’ he said, sounding unaccountably defensive to Rowena. Her puzzled frown deepened. ‘Are you all right?’ ‘Barring the odd touch of frostbite—’ he extended his hands palm up towards her ‘—I’m fine.’ She stopped puzzling over the unusually harsh rasp in his voice as she examined his tapering fingertips. It wasn’t just the thought of those clever fingers being harmed that made her stomach muscles quiver violently. ‘Don’t joke about it,’ she pleaded huskily, touching the tip of her tongue to the beads of moisture along her upper lip. ‘Sit by the fire and get some of those wet things off. I’ll go upstairs and see what I can…borrow.’ One brow arched, he shot her a challenging look. Rowena shrugged her shoulders and threw him the torch she still carried. Once she was alone she did as Quinn requested, though unfastening buttons was not easy with fingers that were slow and clumsy with cold. She had stripped down to her bra, pants, shirt and socks by the time he returned. Quinn returned quietly. The hunched figure, her slender back turned to him, was violently shivering before the fire. He was engulfed by a wave of tenderness so intense it felt as if a hand had casually thrust through his ribs and were squeezing his heart. It was the sound of Quinn’s soft, sibilant curse that made Rowena conscious she was no longer alone. Like a startled animal she turned her head and their eyes meshed, violet blue with deep green. No glare of oncoming headlights could have been as paralysing as his intense scrutiny, nor could they have made her feel more helpless and vulnerable. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked. As questions went that one was particularly dumb, and his tight-lipped grim response underlined the dumbness. ‘How long have you got?’ Rowena bit her lip and turned her head away. She dealt on a daily basis with important, powerful people and she had never been short of a clever reply. Quinn was the only person she knew who could make her feel stupid, clumsy and totally inadequate. This alone was reason enough not to get involved with him. Pity I didn’t figure that out a bit sooner, she reflected, pushing aside the memories still fresh in her mind that completely contradicted this bitter theory. The flip side of feeling stupid and clumsy was feeling gloriously empowered and energised—embracing your sexuality was a scary thing to do at her age! She watched as he dropped the large pile of stuff he was carrying on the nearest armchair and advanced towards her carrying a white fluffy bath sheet, which he draped around her from head to toe. Rowena felt the blast of heat as he opened the wood burner with the toe of his boot and threw on a couple more dry logs, which immediately began to crackle satisfactorily. Quinn then threw off his own waterproof, which, unlike her own, seemed to have lived up to its description before he joined her. ‘Now let’s get your circulation moving,’ he said, dropping down onto his knees in front of her. ‘You look blue,’ he added, swallowing hard as his eyes scanned the slender rounded contours of her long slim legs. ‘W…what are you doing?’ Wobbling, she leant heavily on his shoulder as he lifted one foot to roll down her sodden sock. It hit the floor with a wet thwack as he tossed it carelessly over his shoulder. ‘You’re so untidy,’ she disapproved as he allowed her to replace her bare foot on the ground. ‘Show a bit of respect—this is someone else’s home.’ Quinn lifted his head and looked around the big living space. ‘I don’t know,’ he mused. ‘I think I could feel at home here.’ ‘I thought you already did. I’d feel a lot happier if you didn’t.’ She couldn’t throw off the guilty conviction that any minute now the real owners would walk through the door. ‘We’ll debate the moral aspects later,’ he promised drily as the other sock joined its mate. ‘I’d prefer to concentrate my efforts on avoiding hypothermia right now, if you don’t mind. Take that shirt off,’ he instructed her tersely. ‘And whatever’s underneath it.’ The last time Quinn had ordered her to remove intimate items of her clothing there had been a lot less objectivity in his manner. Rowena dismissed this memory, ashamed of the rush of heat it brought to the surface of her cold skin and the achy quivering effect low in her belly. Irrationally she even found herself resenting his practicality. Perhaps now he knew she was pregnant he didn’t think of her in that way…? This was a definite possibility—after all, how many men found hugely pregnant women seductive…? Rowena didn’t know, but she suspected most who claimed they did were just paying lip-service. She could always ignore his instruction on principle—the principle being what, exactly, Rowena? she asked herself mockingly. What’s bothering me anyhow? If she had an ounce of common sense she’d be thanking her lucky stars that exposure to low temperatures and the thought of her shortly being the size of an elephant made him immune to her charms! ‘Don’t just stand there, woman, it’s not like I haven’t seen everything there is to see,’ he reminded her crudely. ‘The last time you were invited.’ She immediately regretted introducing this subject as an image floated before her eyes of herself with her skirt yanked up around the top of her thighs, her shirt open to the waist revealing shamelessly swollen nipples still glistening and wet from the ministrations of his tongue and lips as she lay beneath him, begging him with hoarse urgency to do whatever he liked—and as quickly as possible! Dry-throated, she swallowed. The shame and, worse still, the fizz of hot squirmy excitement low in her belly made her assiduously avoid his eyes. She still couldn’t believe it had been her doing and saying those things. Through the concealing shield of her lashes she saw his dark head lift once more. ‘So I was…’ The smoky reflective gleam in his eyes made Rowena, whose heart was already banging frantically against her ribcage, wonder if he was recalling the same moment—mind you, there had been others equally incriminating. One corner of his mobile mouth lifted in his trademark lazy half-smile. ‘If it makes you happier I won’t peek.’ Rowena had no intention of giving him the opportunity! Careful not to dislodge the concealing bath sheet, she slid her arms out of the shirt and slipped it over her narrow shoulders, very conscious that all she now wore were her bra and an insubstantial pair of pants. It occurred to her as she modestly unclipped her light lacy bra in a similar fashion that she was behaving in a totally untypical coy fashion—it wasn’t her own body she wasn’t comfortable with, but the way Quinn made her feel about that body. Unlike any other man of her acquaintance he made her feel like a deeply sexual woman, a woman with strong appetites and uncontrollable passions. She didn’t think she knew that woman very well—she trusted her even less! Quinn made no comment, but she could almost hear his sarcastic thoughts when she folded both items of clothing into a neat parcel before disposing of them. ‘Ouch, that hurts!’ she protested as he began to rub her legs briskly with a second towel. Tingling life painfully returned to her limbs as he ignored her protests. ‘Don’t be a baby!’ His curt tone was as abrasive as his actions. She felt his rhythmic actions falter at just about the same moment the ‘B’ word made the inevitable link in her own head too. He looked awfully pale—perhaps he was in denial as she had been at first…? Lower lip caught between her teeth—it stopped it trembling—and still tented in the bath sheet, she took the other towel from his hands. The atmosphere of slightly uneasy intimacy had become one of cold suspicion and hostility. ‘You don’t need a medical diploma on the wall to do that, I think I can manage now,’ she mumbled, avoiding his eyes. After a moment Quinn released the towel with a curt nod. ‘If that’s what you want. Only it’s not going to go away, Rowena.’ She didn’t make the mistake of thinking he was referring to her goose-bumps. ‘Unless of course you make it go away…?’ |
CHAPTER FIVE
THE full significance of Quinn’s tense postscript was lost on Rowena for a full twenty seconds. When his meaning did finally hit her, her violet-blue eyes shot open. ‘You think that I’d…?’ Drawing herself up to her full height, she fixed her outraged gaze coldly on the man still kneeling at her feet. Despite his stance there was nothing remotely submissive about Quinn’s expression. Neither, much to her amazement, did it contain any of the critical condemnation she’d expected to see. Her righteous wrath fizzled away as she recognised the tense apprehension in his unblinking emerald stare. Apprehension wasn’t something she associated with Quinn. He always gave the impression of being so completely in control of himself and events, but he was undoubtedly stealing himself to hear her reply. What did you expect? she derided herself scornfully. You told the man you were carrying his baby just before you ran off into a blizzard forcing him to risk life and limb to save you. You didn’t have to be very imaginative to figure out these events might have shaken even Quinn’s impregnable self-assurance. The hypocrisy of her own outraged posture also struck her forcibly—why wouldn’t he think she’d consider the easy option? It was only when she had considered it that she herself had realised that abortion was not an easy option—not for her at least… She heaved a tiny sigh and shook her head—the gesture was infinitesimal, but it had a dramatic effect on Quinn, who visibly slumped with relief as the tension eased from his lean body. Quinn’s eyes closed. He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and massaged the tightly stretched skin, then exhaled heavily. His eyes opened. ‘I’m glad.’ This throaty revelation was unnecessary—Rowena had never seen anything that approached the concentrated elation she saw briefly reflected in his gleaming eyes. Pressing his hands against his well-muscled thighs, he then rose in one smooth, supple motion. Just watching him move made her tummy muscles clench rhythmically. Without speaking, he caught the edges of the towel draped over her shoulders, pulled it up over her head and began to systematically blot the moisture from her hair. Rowena stood there meekly accepting his ministrations, fighting the ridiculous urge to turn her face into his capacious palm and press her lips against his warm skin, and wondering with the tiny remaining sane portion of her mind why he wasn’t saying anything else—he had to want to. She broke the silence when she could no longer stand wondering. ‘Don’t get the idea…I mean…this isn’t an unplanned teenage pregnancy…’ His slanted satirical smile didn’t reach his watchful eyes. ‘Is there something you’re not telling me?’ ‘I meant the teenage part,’ she elaborated swiftly, horrified that he might think even for one minute she’d got pregnant deliberately. ‘It’s not like I didn’t know all the options open to me.’ Sure, the sarcastic voice in her head agreed, you were so clued up you didn’t even protect yourself properly. ‘And I did think about it…not having the baby,’ she admitted, a shade of defensiveness creeping into her tone as her heavy lashes lifted off her cheek. Quinn’s eyes flickered briefly down to hers before he returned his attention to his task. ‘Considering the number of times you’ve lectured me on the rights a woman should have over her own body, this doesn’t come as a massive shock. But you’ve made your decision…’ Rowena’s eyes widened—he was right, it was time to throw the pro and con lists she’d religiously compiled out of the window. She’d have saved a lot of time if she’d just followed her gut instincts from the beginning. ‘That’s the important thing.’ ‘It was my decision to make.’ It seemed critical to establish this. ‘Yes.’ Perversely his ready compliance annoyed her. Anyone would think she wanted him to give her an argument, call her a shallow ice-maiden who put her career before everything else. Maybe deep down she thought she deserved condemnation. ‘And I suppose you expect me to believe you’d be displaying this impressive tolerance and understanding if my decision didn’t happen to be the one you wanted me to make?’ Or was she making yet another assumption…? Maybe the thought of fatherhood under these circumstances didn’t please him—maybe he totally hated the idea…? Perhaps he’d like nothing better than to learn she was planning an abortion…? There was a big difference between wanting to share a bed with an independent woman and being lumbered with the responsibilities of fatherhood. Rowena had heard enough horror stories to know that even when the event was planned a baby could put the most stable relationship under a lot of strain. This didn’t surprise her, but what did was the fact that most of these people reduced to walking zombies by their newborn offspring frequently went on to have another baby and in some cases more than that! Not that it was reasonable to compare herself and Quinn to these people. By no stretch of the imagination could what they had be termed stable—for that matter it could hardly be termed a relationship! Quinn’s eyes skimmed her face, acknowledging her cynical, slightly wary expression with a wry grimace. Heaving a sigh, he let the towel slide back down to her shoulders and finally stopped acting as if extracting every last drop of moisture from her hair was all he was thinking about. ‘I could say I’m the very epitome of liberal-minded political correctness…but I’m not an impartial observer here, Rowena. There would have been some…conflict,’ he admitted, choosing his words with obvious care. ‘Meaning you’d have fought me every inch of the way,’ Rowena translated, feeling foolishly relieved to know he wouldn’t prefer her to get rid of the baby. ‘Meaning I’d have done what I had to. I respect the fact it’s your body and therefore the ultimate decision has to be yours, but it’s our baby and I’d have done my utmost—not just because of the baby, but because…’ He stopped mid impassioned speech and surveyed her face with darkened eyes. ‘I don’t think any of us know how we’re going to act in a given situation until we find ourselves there.’ Rowena relaxed a little and nodded. She didn’t resent his truthfulness. Honesty always had been one of Quinn’s most attractive characteristics—if you left out the incredible body, the air of attractive danger and a voice that could soften the most cynical female, deep inside where it mattered. ‘Sometimes,’ she admitted huskily, matching his honesty with some of her own, ‘things seem all right, in theory…’ Her expression grew sombre as she contemplated with trepidation the inevitable long-reaching consequences this decision was going to have on her life and future. ‘Admitting you are wrong isn’t a sign of weakness.’ Her indignation flared—as if he was the expert on admitting he was wrong! ‘What are you doing?’ she gasped as, totally without warning, Quinn swept her up into his arms. Alarming as it was to find herself cradled in extremely strong masculine arms, when you were five feet ten inches there was some novelty value in being treated as if you weighed nothing. She recalled how far he’d carried her earlier in the blizzard and realised with a tinge of awe that his impressive physique was not just for show. Rowena was just beginning to almost enjoy herself when Quinn spoiled it. ‘You’re really not as light as you look.’ He grunted as he hefted her a little higher into his arms. Rowena scowled at his hawkish profile as she automatically threw an arm over his shoulder to steady herself. Just because she had never felt the urge to seek shelter in strong male arms, it didn’t mean she relished being reminded she wasn’t one of those petite females who brought out the protective, chivalrous instincts in men. On the other hand, men—the ones she didn’t intimidate—saw her as a challenge, someone to be subdued. ‘Nobody asked you to pick me up,’ she reminded him sourly. ‘It’s quicker this way. We need to speed up the process—you’re not warming up fast enough.’ Rowena had no argument with that—she felt as if she’d never be warm again—it was Quinn’s method of achieving this desirable goal that had her worried. ‘Will you put me down?’ Again with no warning he did as she requested, right onto the centrally situated, oversized sofa, which was laden with cushions and draped with a richly coloured kelim. Quinn impatiently brushed half the cushions onto the floor with his forearm and pushed the rest into a soft pile behind her back as he set her down. He then proceeded to drag the heavy sofa with her on it closer to the fire. Before she could comment, let alone protest, he pulled a king-sized duvet from the stack of things he’d brought downstairs and with a curt instruction to, ‘Lift your bottom, sweetheart!’ he slid it under her on the sofa, then folded it envelope-style over her. Still shaking helplessly with cold that seemed to have bitten deep into her bones, she pushed her chin on top of the soft cocoon. ‘Is it just with me you act like some sort of prehistoric caveman? Or don’t you ever consult anybody…?’ She stopped and tried not to stare too obviously as Quinn began to unzip the leather trousers he was still wearing. She tried to be objective about what was revealed by his impromptu striptease, but it wasn’t easy. He really had the very best legs a man could have, she decided, trying to drag her covetous gaze from the athletically bronzed strength of his long lower limbs. ‘I’m sure consultation is a good thing and as a rule I’m all for it,’ he asserted, acting as if he hadn’t heard her loud sceptical snort. ‘But when a problem needs to be resolved without delay I don’t think committee decisions are the most effective way of going about it.’ ‘I always had you pegged as one of those despotic types in a previous life,’ she revealed crankily. If he shed his clothes half as fast as he made decisions she didn’t have long before she was in deep trouble. Rowena despised her weakness as the heavy dragging sensation low in her pelvis got increasingly difficult to ignore. ‘A benevolent despot.’ ‘There’s no such thing,’ she claimed throatily. ‘Remember when I mentioned the skin-to-skin way of raising body temperature?’ Rowena gulped—as if she could have forgotten. A wave of faintness made her head spin as she contemplated what he appeared to be suggesting. ‘Well, this is a modified version.’ Hand extended, he passed her the fine woollen top he’d been wearing next to his skin. Rowena tore her gaze from his lean, finely muscled torso and looked at it blankly, her eyes huge in her pale face. ‘It’s warm; put it on,’ he urged. Warm from his skin, which at the moment was only covered by a pair of designer boxers! Her nipples, perhaps in anticipation of the second-hand warmth on offer, began to tingle and harden into tight, painful buds—heaven knew what they’d do if it was firsthand warmth! ‘It won’t bite.’ Rowena wished she shared his confidence, not to mention his clinical objectivity. If she could have thought of one sensible reason why she shouldn’t lay material still warm from his skin against her own, Rowena would have used it to avoid a gesture of such unavoidable intimacy. Her fevered mind couldn’t come up with an even semi-sensible reason so, nodding, she took a deep breath and forced her clenched fingers to unlock. Holding the quilt in her teeth, she eased her hand out from beneath the cover and snatched the top from him. Ducking down under the folds, she pulled the top over her head, the soft material chafing against her oversensitised breasts as she eased her arms into the sleeves. He was right—it was still warm with his body heat. When she emerged her overbright eyes discovered Quinn was pushing his own arms back into one of his outer layers—a black fleece slightly thicker than the one he’d handed her. ‘I wouldn’t have looked.’ Two red circles appeared on her pale cheeks. ‘I prefer not to take any chances.’ He eyed the hostile tilt of her chin and his big shoulders lifted in a surprisingly good-natured shrug. ‘You’re probably right,’ he conceded as he approached the sofa. ‘Now budge over.’ Rowena’s hands came up in a protective gesture across her chest that caused the quilt to slither down to her waist. Hastily she snatched it up again. ‘What? You can’t…you’re not…’ Rowena discovered almost immediately that he could and was! She closed her eyes and held her body rigid as his long, lean body slid under the cover and lay down beside her. The duvet settled back around them. ‘Phase two…’ ‘Oh, no!’ she whimpered under her breath. ‘This really isn’t what I want,’ she added in a firmer tone. She was confident that Quinn wasn’t the sort of man who would cross that particular line even if he thought she was lying through her teeth. If he responds with a corny, You don’t know what you want, I’ll kill him, Rowena decided wrathfully—even if it is true. Quinn slid onto his back. ‘Lie on top of me.’ ‘No way!’ After her extraordinarily submissive behaviour in New York, perhaps it wasn’t so surprising that he had got the idea she liked being told what to do in bed—not that this brusque instruction bore any real resemblance to the huskily erotic requests he had made of her that night. Just thinking about the velvet rasp in his voice sent shiver after voluptuous shiver down her rigid, trembling spine. Quinn looked into her eyes and was worried by the glazed expression he saw there—hopefully nothing more sinister than exhaustion had put it there. ‘God, you’re shaking like a leaf. This is stupid, Rowena.’ ‘I’ll warm up in a minute,’ she said, not really believing it by this point. ‘No, you won’t. I’d offer to go on top, but I thought you’d prefer to be in control…’ Rowena couldn’t smile at his joke; she was fast coming round to thinking that any control she had around Quinn could only ever be illusionary, and if he made the slightest move to touch her he’d know it too! ‘Hell, woman, this isn’t some elaborate seduction technique—you’re suffering from mild hypothermia.’ His expression grew grim as he thanked his lucky stars once more they’d found shelter when they had. ‘I am?’ ‘Trust me, I’m a doctor…’ ‘Not my doctor.’ Her doctor didn’t make house calls wearing a skimpy pair of boxer shorts. And thank god for that! The friendship barrier had been hard enough to get by without that added complication. ‘And doctors are having their socks sued off by dissatisfied customers every day of the week,’ she reminded him grouchily through chattering teeth. ‘I’m not joking, Rowena, this is the most efficient way of raising your body temperature to a safe level.’ He was relieved to see that his words seemed to have finally convinced her that he wasn’t joking about the urgency of the situation. All—all!—he had to do now was retain the sort of professional objectivity he had boasted he possessed. She shot him a wary look. ‘How do we do this?’ ‘However you like.’ Whichever way it was going to hurt, of that he had no doubt. He’d spent the last couple of months in an almost constant state of arousal, fantasising like a teenager about her, and now she was about to press that much-fantasised-about flesh against his own and the only thing he was allowed to display was clinical objectivity. It didn’t get much more painful than that! He willed his uncooperative body to relax as Rowena cautiously slid a leg over his hips. Quinn smiled encouragingly and hoped the intense strain he felt didn’t show as she placed a hand beside his shoulder. Nostrils flared, he averted his eyes from the pleasing movement of her breasts swinging free beneath her borrowed top. Miraculously his own body stayed inert as the rest of her celestial body—hell, he loved the long, lean elegant lines of her supple body—followed. He shook his head and regretfully dispelled the sensual image from his head. He couldn’t afford that indulgence—it was taking all his concentration and will-power to keep his natural bodily responses in check. Silently he began to recite the nerve supply to the entire gastro-intestinal tract. It was a technique he’d not employed for a long time, but it had worked when he was an inexperienced—in every sense of the word—student with a desire to please his first lover! Rowena tried telling herself she was lying on top of a heat source, not a stunningly virile male in peak condition, but somehow she couldn’t visualise Quinn as a hot-water bottle! She bit down so hard on her lower lip to stop herself moaning out loud as she lay her legs beside the hair-roughened length of his that she drew blood. Every nerve ending in her body was screaming out in awareness! She tried to blank out the scent and texture of his skin and failed abysmally. Her damp hair tickled his chin and Quinn’s recitation stumbled momentarily as his concentration lapsed. Look on the bright side, mate, he told himself, at least her face is turned away. Schooling his expression into a blank canvas on top of everything else would have been one demand too many. If he’d needed a reminder that this wasn’t about satisfying his frustrated libido, the shocking chill of her slender body through the thin fabric of the top she wore provided it. Several minutes passed—it felt a lot longer to him—and she still didn’t relax. ‘Comfy?’ Was he joking? ‘I’m fine, thank you,’ she responded, trying desperately hard not to do anything that might be construed as provocative—she envied Quinn his apparent ability to switch off. ‘Not hurting you, am I?’ She tensed all over again as something half between a guttural groan and a gasp escaped his lips. ‘What…?’ She would have looked to see what was wrong but his open hand moved to the back of her head, holding it where it was on his shoulder. ‘Just an elbow in the wrong place,’ he explained, adjusting her arm, which was sandwiched between them. ‘You feeling any warmer?’ Rowena had been too busy stressing about the physical contact and her lustful thoughts to register that she was feeling less teeth-jarringly icy. ‘You know, I think I might be,’ she said, her relief showing in her surprised tone. ‘I told you so. Now let’s speed up the process, shall we?’ Rowena hardly had time to begin wondering in some trepidation what he meant when he began to briskly massage her all over in a detached, businesslike manner. It was obvious the last thing on his mind was sex, which made her feel doubly ashamed of her own fixation. Even though she had thought it impossible, Rowena did eventually relax, and she even began to enjoy the situation as gradually the hard, tight, circular movements of his hands that had made her skin tingle became long, smooth, sweeping motions that moved from shoulder to flank and back. The combination of the delicious warmth and his clever hands had all the coiled tension in her body seeping slowly away. She lay there a long time enjoying the physical contact—any contact was better than none, as far as her touch-starved body was concerned—before she finally turned her head to look at him. His eyes were closed, the shadow of his lashes creating a dark shadow across the jutting line of his cheekbones. Greedily she examined the sharp planes and angular hollows of his face. It wasn’t until that moment that she finally accepted just how often during their short period of separation she’d literally ached to look at him. As if he sensed her scrutiny, Quinn’s dark eyelashes began to lift. Rowena froze and she found herself staring into sensational deep aquamarine eyes. Quinn had frustrating eyes that could turn her bones to water and at the same time shield his thoughts totally from her. Her tentative smile faded as she received none in return. ‘I’m much warmer.’ ‘The thaw seems to have gone further than skin-deep.’ It was impossible to tell from his dry tone if he thought this was a bad or good thing. ‘If you ever want a career change you could make a fortune as a masseur…’ ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’ She hitched herself a little higher so that his fingers, which had been splayed in the small of her back, came to rest on the curve of her firm bottom. She gave a determined little wriggle and sighed. ‘That’s so good, Quinn.’ Quinn’s lean fingers spasmed digging into her firm resilient flesh. His hand lifted clear of her skin. ‘Sorry.’ His hoarse tone gave her the first hint that he might not be as laid-back about the situation as he’d seemed so far. The discovery made Rowena feel slightly less depraved and more than slightly relieved! She stretched lazily and gave another sexy, sinuous little wriggle that Quinn had no doubt was not accidental, and a pulse beside his mouth began to throb. Tongue caught between her teeth, she raised herself on one arm and, arching her back, ran a finger casually down his chest. ‘My feet are still cold,’ she complained, running her toes down his calf to illustrate her claim. ‘See…’ The borrowed top, which just about skimmed her hips, hiked up as she brought her knee up. ‘Shall I warm them on you?’ The innocent enquiry was barely out of her mouth when she found herself tipped sideways until they lay shoulder to shoulder. ‘Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, Rowena?’ Smouldering eyes locked with hers. Her back against the sofa, her front against his front, there wasn’t any way Rowena could avoid that accusing glare. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said, not pulling off the dumb act at all convincingly. She sighed as her eyes slid from his. ‘I suppose I was being a little…provocative…’ She was suddenly annoyed with herself for feeling so guilty. Wasn’t she a modern woman with needs of her own and as much right as a man to make the first move? She’d read all the articles—hell’s bells! She’d written a lot of them. ‘Is this Rowena being brutally honest?’ No, this is Rowena saying the first stupid thing that comes into her head! Her antagonism faded perceptibly as she encountered the tender expression in his eyes. ‘Is this Quinn rubbing salt in the wound?’ She sighed. ‘I don’t see what’s so bad about being provocative…’ ‘Did I say there was anything wrong?’ ‘You want an apology? Fine, I’m sorry I came on to you.’ ‘You’re sorry,’ he parroted hoarsely. The veil of her lashes lifted once more as she heard the rasp of his incredulous inhalation. ‘I don’t want your apologies, woman, I want you!’ Her stomach flipped over. ‘You do?’ Her body sagged in relief. His hand cupped her chin. ‘This can’t have come as a shock; I’ve hardly been trying to disguise the fact.’ ‘Well, no,’ she admitted, blushing. ‘But that was before you knew…I thought maybe me being pregnant had put you off the…physical side of things, and I’d hate you to think that I was coming on to you because I need a father for the baby,’ she rattled on nervously. ‘Because nothing could be farther from the truth.’ The fingers around her jaw tightened. ‘Need has nothing to do with it, Rowena, you’ve got a father for the baby—me!’ ‘You know what I mean,’ she responded, wary of the implacable expression in his eyes. Oh, he knew what she meant, all right! Perhaps now wasn’t the right moment to make it plain to her that he wasn’t about to be a part-time father, Quinn thought drily. ‘I think I get the general drift…but I’m confused. Why the…provocation, after you’ve been holding me at arm’s length?’ Was he joking? There were many men in this world she could safely snuggle with, but Quinn wasn’t one of them! She found she had no control over the direction of her blue eyes as they dropped with embarrassing obviousness from his eyes to his firm, sensual mouth and back again. ‘Do we have to analyse this?’ she agonised hoarsely, the whole of her restless body burning up with frustrated desire. ‘I think maybe we do.’ What are you going to do? the voice in his head asked mockingly. Hold out indefinitely? Sure, that’s really likely! If this was his way of punishing her, it was working! How could she satisfactorily explain the fact that something just felt right. Rowena sighed, and struggled to get her frustration in check. It had reached the point where there seemed little point in prevaricating. ‘The thing is, I’ve been thinking about you…us…well, actually,’ she corrected, her lips quivering into a self-derisive curve, ‘I’ve been trying not to because—’ ‘Because your concentration is shot to hell and things like eating are a chore. You laugh at jokes when you haven’t heard them and, worst of all…or is it best…?’ he recited, his gaze fixed and unblinking, his tone unemotional and flat. His head went back and Rowena watched completely riveted as the muscles in his strong throat worked. ‘The worst thing is when you wake up in the middle of the night, your body aching, and the only person that can take that ache away isn’t there.’ Lifting a crooked arm to cover his eyes, he suddenly rolled away from her onto his back, his broad, powerful chest heaving. About mid-way through the final impassioned instalment in his narrative, Rowena had begun to nod wonderingly and she continued to do so even when he stopped speaking. Ambivalent emotions churned in her stomach. The raw, barely restrained hunger she’d seen in Quinn’s face, and discovering they’d been suffering almost identical symptoms, had both frightened and deeply excited her. ‘I didn’t know you felt like that,’ she whispered, raising a hand to the side of his face. His arm fell away from his eyes. Lips twisted cynically, he scanned her face. ‘You didn’t want to know.’ He caught her wrist and held her fingers there against the day’s growth that cast a dark shadow over his lower jaw. Rowena wasn’t prepared to take all the blame. ‘I suppose if you hadn’t been so stubborn about us having an affair we’d have already got this out of our systems.’ ‘If it makes you feel better to believe that, Rowena, go right ahead and cling onto that belief.’ ‘I think maybe the only thing that will make me feel better is feeling you inside me,’ she declared boldly. Her eyes glazed hotly as she thought of Quinn’s mouth on her skin, his fingers stroking her, Quinn sliding hard into her—and her mouth opened to drag air noisily into her oxygen-depleted lungs. A groan was ripped from his throat before his mouth came crashing down on hers. Fingers hooked into his hair, Rowena opened her mouth, welcoming the hot, probing invasion of his tongue. Frantically she plastered herself against him, revelling in the pain as the hard swell of his arousal ground into her belly. ‘You have no idea,’ he rasped, ‘how often I’ve thought about this…’ Rowena nodded, pressing frantic kisses to the curve of his jaw, his throat, his eyelids. ‘Oh, but I do,’ she cried brokenly. ‘I do!’ His big hands ran down the curve of her spine and, cupping the rounded contours of her bottom, hauled her hard against him. His mouth left hers for a second as he yanked the top over her head. It was closely followed by his own. His naked flesh touched hers and the fire in her veins exploded, scorching away any residual sanity in its wake. She felt his teeth tug at her lower lip, felt his breath hot and rapid on her cheek as his hands cupped, stroked and squeezed her swollen breasts, catching each engorged pink nipple in turn between his thumb and forefinger and teasing the aching nubs of flesh. Each caress sizzled along her nerve endings, wave after wave of pure sensation that reduced Rowena to a moaning, compliant wreck. ‘You like this…?’ Rowena’s eyelids felt heavy; it was hard to lift them—but the effort was worth it! God, but he was beautiful! ‘I like it.’ Her voice sounded as if it were coming from a long way away. Then more firmly, but still trembling and strange, ‘A lot!’ Breathing heavily, she dragged the quilt down to look at all of him—the breath snagged painfully in her throat. He was incredible, she thought, marvelling hungrily at the perfection of his streamlined body. There wasn’t an ounce of surplus flesh on his spare frame to hide the stupendous muscular development and the boxers he wore were equally inadequate to hide the extent of his arousal. ‘You’ll get cold.’ Rowena laughed huskily. That hardly seemed likely; she was burning up, her veins were filled with fire, her throat ached with emotional need. She reached out and touched his flat belly and felt the immediate satisfactory sharp contraction of his strong muscles as he sucked in his breath in a harsh gasp. He let her hands explore some more until they slid a little too low, then, ignoring her protests, caught them in one of his own. ‘Too much, too soon,’ he explained thickly, pinning both her hands above her head in his capable grasp. ‘I can’t touch you.’ ‘But I can touch you.’ An insolent, sexual smile curved his lips as she shuddered hard against him. ‘You’ll like that, won’t you…?’ His green eyes, smouldering as though they were lit by an inner flame, melded with her own. ‘Yes.’ She licked her dry lips as her dilated pupils stayed glued to his dark face—she was his utterly, and the unconditional surrender felt strangely liberating. A restless twist of her hips sent the quilt slithering to the floor. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm,’ he breathed into her mouth. ‘Please,’ she replied simply. Quinn looked into her smoky eyes, and what he saw took his breath away. Rowena shivered, but not from cold this time. Quinn’s free hand was on her stomach, and soon his lips were there too, tracing a slow, tingling path across her flesh. She moaned as her insides violently contracted and then did so again and again until she felt she couldn’t breathe. Even with her eyes closed the room was spinning. He pushed her body down under him and loomed over her. This display of masculine strength she would have scorned in her right mind only heightened her escalating, scalding excitement. Watching the play of emotion over her passion-pale features, he slid his hand under the edge of her stretchy smooth pants and felt the betraying heat and slickness between her legs. The feral sound of her keening wail made him pull back. Rowena’s eyes, the dilated pupils almost obliterating the blue, snapped open. ‘Don’t stop!’ she implored in an agonised whisper. ‘Please…!’ Quinn released her hands and pressed a burning kiss to her parted lips. ‘I think you’d be much more comfortable without these…’ He fingered the lacy waistband. ‘I would—I definitely would.’ What Quinn’s actions lacked in finesse as he roughly slid the pants down her long legs he more than made up for in urgency. He parted her legs, need stamped indelibly on his hard-edged features as he savoured the mind-blowingly erotic sight of her sensuous body waiting for him—she was his! ‘Now, Quinn, please!’ Her eyes glowed with a slumberous passion as she parted her legs still wider—it was an invitation that Quinn couldn’t and didn’t resist. During the first breathless moment of penetration Rowena, overcome by the sheer blissful wonder of her softness being stretched and filled, just clung, her fingers digging into his back, her long legs wrapped around his waist. As they moved, hot, slick skin on slick skin, her sense of self disappeared. There was no individual Quinn and Rowena; there was just mindless pleasure and the promise of more held tantalisingly out of reach. Each thrust of his body took her deeper and deeper into the maelstrom of sensation; the blood pounded darkly in her head as his erotic whispers became frantic pants. She felt the climax coming, building strength inside her before the shattering release actually arrived. Pleasure rolled over her like a tidal wave, bathing each individual cell of her body, stretching each individual sinew and fibre to their limitations. Above her she was conscious of Quinn shuddering and he cried out her name over and over until the final hot, pulsing surges of his body stilled. Their breathing gradually stilled as they lay tangled together. He would have slid from her then, but Rowena, already half asleep, held him tight. CHAPTER SIX ROWENA woke to find herself staring up at a canopy. She blinked as the gold fleur-de-lis embroidered on the deep blue pleated silk slid into focus. She sat up, taking the quilt she was wrapped in with her, and realised she was lying in bed—a very large, carved, dark oak four-poster and one that to her certain knowledge she’d never seen before. It took her several hazy moments to recall the sequence of events that had taken her to the cottage and this bed. She clutched her tousled blonde head and groaned—talk about complicating things! Quinn, she reasoned, must have carried her upstairs while she’d slept, slept after…! A tide of heat washed over her body, and hastily she fast-forwarded over what had immediately preceded her falling asleep. It wasn’t easy; her thoughts showed a weak tendency to dwell dreamily on her temporary madness. Gran! Her eyes flew open in alarm and guilt crowded out everything else. While they’d been making love her gran had been fighting for her life. How could I be so shallow…so selfish? she berated herself. Self-disgust churned in her stomach. How long had she slept? It could have been round the clock for all she knew. Her sense of disorientation increased as she looked around wildly for a clock and found none, and the heavy curtains were drawn so it was impossible to gauge the time of day. Sliding from under the warm covers, Rowena grabbed a light embroidered throw off a small sofa at the foot of the bed to cover her nakedness. Lifting up the tail of the improvised sarong, she then ran over to the window and pushed aside the curtains. She was relieved to see it was still daylight; that relief was tempered by the fact it was still snowing like crazy. ‘I thought I heard you moving around.’ Rowena spun to face the figure who had silently materialised in the room, the chinks of light from the disturbed curtains catching her hair, turning it to a bright silver halo around her fine-boned face. Quinn was no longer in black leather. He now looked equally virile and desirable in a pair of dark moleskin trousers and a chunky knitted cream sweater he’d obviously appropriated. The owner of the cottage, it would seem, was a big man also. It was hard not to notice that the outfit fitted Quinn’s broad-shouldered, long-legged frame extremely well—if a little too snugly in the hip area. Rowena swallowed and brought her restless gaze back to his face. ‘You look better,’ he announced, after subjecting her pink-cheeked face to a cool-eyed scrutiny. ‘Did you sleep well?’ he added as his enigmatic eyes continued to scan her wary face as though he expected to see something written on the clear, creamy skin. Like someone afraid to incriminate herself in an interrogation, Rowena kept her face blank. She nodded awkwardly—after what she’d been imagining his opening comments might be, this innocuous enquiry was actually a relief. She just hoped he kept things simple and didn’t start some deeply embarrassing post-mortem, because if he did she didn’t know how she was going to explain away her wanton behaviour! ‘Too well. What time is it?’ she asked, tightening the loop of fabric gathered loosely over her bosom. Quinn laid down the tray he carried. ‘Tea time.’ He didn’t appear perturbed or particularly surprised by his less than warm reception. ‘Will you be mother?’ He winced, and straightened up, brushing a stray hank of hair from his eyes. ‘Sorry, no pun intended—’ he began apologetically. ‘For goodness’ sake, I’m pregnant—’ she responded snappily, ungrateful for his display of consideration. Rowena didn’t want consideration, she wanted everything to be the way it had been. Dream on, a cruel voice of realism in her head mocked. ‘I’m not made of china—don’t for heaven’s sake start censoring what you say on my account,’ she told him in exasperated distaste. ‘Right, no special treatment…I’ll make a mental note of that,’ he promised gravely. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to detect mockery in his solemn face. ‘How long exactly have I been asleep?’ ‘I don’t know exactly,’ he mocked, mimicking her crisp tone. ‘If I’d known it was important I’d have made a note.’ Rowena made an impatient sound in the back of her throat. ‘It’s about four-thirty, if that’s any help.’ ‘Four-thirty—but that’s—’ ‘Halfway between four and five.’ ‘Half the day’s gone!’ She gasped, tucking her hair behind her ears in an agitated jerky gesture. ‘How could you let me…?’ she wailed. She bit her lip and tried to tighten her grip on her self-control and the throw wrapped carelessly around her—an accident waiting to happen. ‘I shouldn’t be here.’ She looked wildly around the room. ‘I should be doing…’ ‘What?’ One dark brow quirked and Rowena shook her head, struck dumb by her growing sense of impotence. Her slender shoulder slumped defeatedly. ‘Something,’ she responded in an agonised whisper. It was hard for Quinn to reconcile the lonely, fragile figure before him with the indelible mental image in his head of that smart-mouthed, feisty lady editor who not only incited respect, lust and insanity in him in about equal measures, but also provided him with a constant, stimulating challenge in a way no other woman had ever done. He’d always known Rowena had a more vulnerable side; what he hadn’t known was how strong his own protective instincts would be on the occasions she revealed it. This wasn’t about the fact that she was carrying his child, this was about the fact that he loved her—every time he admitted it to himself it got easier. One arm extended, he took an impetuous step towards her. It was too much, too soon for Rowena, who knew that his touch suspended all rational mental processes. She took a stumbling backward step that brought her legs in contact with the low, deep window sill. There was a self-derisive glitter in Quinn’s eyes as his arm fell back to his side. Rowena felt she ought to be pleased by the neutral expression on his normally mobile features when he eventually did speak, but now she found herself wondering about what he was hiding. ‘I know you’re worried sick about your gran and, left to you, you’d prefer to hike across the Grampians than wait the snow out with me, but the fact is your presence at the hospital is in no way essential to her recovery. She has expert medical care and if she does wake up before you arrive she’s surrounded by people who love her…’ ‘Wake up?’ Rowena curtly cut in with a frown. Quinn sighed, mentally cursing his blunder. ‘Just a figure of speech. Do you—?’ She scanned his face. ‘She’s unconscious, isn’t she?’ His veiled eyes dropped tellingly and she gasped. ‘Why didn’t anyone tell me?’ Her voice quivered with emotion. ‘She had lapsed into coma when I spoke to Niall before we got on the plane,’ Quinn admitted quietly. ‘He asked me to pass on the information, and I intended to, but you were too upset at the time. I thought I’d wait until later on.’ ‘Just how much later on did you have in mind?’ she asked bitterly as she reviewed all the opportunities he’d had. ‘I didn’t think telling you would serve any useful purpose. You were already stressed enough and in my judgement you—’ His judgement! Rowena saw red; her bosom swelled wrathfully—the arrogance of the man, the conceit! All her life she’d been coming up against exactly this sort of patronising sexual stereotyping, the convenient result of which was that men ended up making all the important decisions in life. The way she saw it, masculine concern was very often nothing but another example of male powerplay. ‘And your judgement is the only one that counts, I take it,’ she cut in icily. Though when he replied Quinn sounded composed, he had no control over the two dark stripes of angry colour that appeared high across his slashing cheekbones. ‘I made a call—’ Rowena’s hands balled into fists as she impatiently brushed a stray tear from her cheek. ‘It wasn’t your call to make,’ she cut him off furiously. His big shoulders lifted fractionally. ‘And as I was about to say—I’d do the same again,’ he announced, condemning himself even further in her eyes by still not displaying any regret whatsoever for the high-handed way he’d acted in withholding the vital piece of information. ‘How dare you!’ She gasped, her blue eyes flashing. ‘Ignorance is not bliss, it’s just ignorance. The next thing you’ll be expecting is my thanks!’ ‘I didn’t do it for your gratitude, Rowena.’ ‘No, you did it because I’m some pathetic, weak little girlie who needs to be protected from the nasty truth,’ she sneered. ‘Did it make you feel like the big strong man, keeping me in the dark?’ she asked bitterly. A flicker of something like anger moved at the back of Quinn’s eyes. ‘I would have told you when I thought the time was right,’ he gritted. That figured. ‘When you thought…oh, that’s all right, then,’ she trilled nastily. ‘You want the truth, Rowena, great, that’s absolutely fine by me.’ With her back already literally against the wall, this time there was nowhere for her to retreat when he advanced menacingly towards her. ‘For instance, we could stop pretending we both don’t know the real reason you’re prepared to behave with all the native nous of a lemming to get to your grandmother is because you’re torn apart with guilt. Tell me, how many invitations have you refused during the past twelve months?’ he continued inexorably when she shook her head in mute, horrified denial. The last remaining shreds of colour faded from Rowena’s cheeks. ‘You’re eaten up with remorse every time you think about all the time you didn’t spend with her because your high-powered career was so much more important than visiting with elderly relatives.’ He must think I’m a total bitch, she thought, steeling herself to meet his angrily scornful eyes squarely just as the heat appeared to be fading from them. Considering the fact that she had always known Quinn had a capacity for displaying great ruthlessness when he wanted to, she ought to have known better than to actually request him not to treat her with kid gloves. Quinn also had a capacity for tenderness and compassion, which in her self-righteous indignation she’d condemned him for—it wasn’t really surprising he’d hit back. ‘I think you’ve made your point, Quinn,’ she murmured unhappily. Quinn had been feeling lousy even before her dignified response. He deeply regretted allowing her to goad him into making such brutal remarks. ‘That was unjustified. I’m—’ ‘No, it’s true, I’m selfish and self-centred—’ Quinn shook his head. ‘Not to mention very close to feeling sorry for myself,’ she added with a small, forced laugh. ‘When you’re focused on one thing it’s easy to lose sight of the big picture,’ he told her, laying a tentative hand on her shoulder, his fingers tightening slightly when she didn’t immediately reject his touch. ‘As for people around us, we all of us take them for granted. Why, I’ve lost count of the number of girlfriends who have accused me of always putting them second to my job.’ Rowena wondered wryly whether this timely reminder of his diverse and extensive selection of sexual partners was meant to cheer her up—if so it was a major miscalculation! She had difficulty controlling the nauseous feelings of jealousy his soothing words evoked. Quinn lifted a strand of lint-fair hair in his fingers and let it fall again. He tucked her chin into the angle of his jaw and hugged her. ‘Loss of consciousness in your grandmother’s condition is not unusual and it doesn’t mean she couldn’t eventually make a full recovery.’ Hands on his forearms, Rowena pulled away from the light embrace. ‘You’re not just saying that?’ she pleaded, not daring to allow herself to read too much into his words. He caught her chin in his hand and smiled ruefully down into her upturned features. ‘What, and treat you like someone who can’t take it on the chin? I wouldn’t dare!’ His expression grew sober. ‘Seriously, Rowena, I don’t want to raise any false hopes, but there’s no point assuming the worst. In fact, instead of stressing, I think we should be thanking our lucky stars. It could have been a lot worse.’ Rowena gaped incredulously up at him. His tall, dynamic figure made a most unlikely Pollyanna. ‘How, exactly?’ The curtains rings rattled as he reached over her shoulder and pulled them apart. Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her bodily around one hundred and eighty degrees. ‘We could be out there,’ he said, nodding pointedly at the frosty wilderness outside. Rowena shuddered and leant back and retreated into the warm solidity of his chest. ‘So I suggest we make the best of the situation. It’s not perfect, but—’ ‘You don’t say!’ Despite everything, his painfully upbeat attitude was amusing. ‘For one thing the décor up here is a bit too…’ head on one side, she watched him consider the ornate furnishings and bold colour scheme in the large room ‘…gothic for my taste, but you’ll be pleased to hear that the monster stove below has hotplates and can not only boil a kettle, it also heats the water—you know what that means.’ ‘I do?’ ‘Baths,’ he declared with lip-smacking relish. ‘And I have nothing but admiration for the bathing facilities. You could fit an army in the tub—go take a look,’ he advised, steering her in the right direction. ‘On second thoughts, try the tea first—brewed with my own fair hands. There was only dried milk, but it’s drinkable.’ Now that he mentioned it, tea did sound rather good. She touched the tip of her tongue to her dry lips and approached the tea-tray perched a bit precariously on the side of the bed. As she sat down she was careful not to dislodge it. ‘Are you hungry?’ he asked, watching with amusement as she sipped the hot drink, an expression of blissful concentration on her face. ‘Because there’s not a bad selection of dried goods on offer and, as the deep freeze is beginning to defrost without power, I think we’re almost morally obliged to eat some of the stuff before it wastes.’ Rowena had some problems with his logic, but she was hungry and she admitted as much. ‘And then there’s the clothes problem…not that I have any problem with your present outfit.’ His slow, sensual smile made her heart race painfully. ‘I did notice that you’ve solved your own clothes problem,’ she retorted, her own glance moving hurriedly from his thigh area where her errant gaze showed a marked tendency to linger. Quinn pushed the ribbed cuffs of the sweater he wore up over the tanned skin of his forearms. ‘Not too bad, is it? he mused complacently. Rowena tore her flustered gaze from the hair-roughened skin he’d revealed. ‘And they call women the vain ones!’ she retorted hoarsely. With a grin Quinn strutted towards her and struck a dramatic pose in front of one of the large ornate mirrors that filled the room. They were so numerous that it meant it was hard to stand anywhere in the room and not see yourself. Personally Rowena found it disturbing to repeatedly catch glimpses of someone who looked like her, but was in some obscure way different—something about the eyes…? ‘When I think that I blew my one big chance at a modelling career…’ he bemoaned, throwing her a look of mock dejection. “‘Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest…?”’ Her teasing grin faded as it dawned on her that the answer to that question for her at least would always be Quinn. ‘You didn’t say—did you see anything I could wear?’ ‘No, this is definitely a male domain, nothing in the cupboards screams female—well, that’s not strictly true,’ he conceded. ‘I did find several odd items, all assorted sizes, if you get my drift…’ Rowena looked puzzled. ‘I don’t.’ Quinn’s expression of frank disbelief faded to amusement as it dawned on him she was actually being serious—for a woman who had written some very cynical articles in her time about male infidelity, Rowena had a charmingly innocent streak. ‘Put it this way, I don’t think our absentee host is heavily into monogamy.’ Perhaps this blushing thing was physiological—something to do with her pregnancy. She hoped it was only a temporary aberration because it definitely wasn’t in keeping with her hard-nosed image at all. ‘In fact, a man after your own heart,’ she commented lightly. The smile in Quinn’s eyes sparkled some more in a frighteningly charismatic way. ‘Now that I come to think about it, there was this very nice basque in a thirty-six D…I don’t suppose you could find some use for it…?’ he wondered innocently. Rowena’s teeth came together in a ferocious fake smile. ‘The only use I’d have for a D cup is to hold my laundry!’ she declared with a wistful peek down at her chest. Quinn threw back his head and his big booming laughter rang out. It was as warm and uninhibited as the man himself, she found herself thinking as he wiped tears of mirth from his face. ‘It’s extremely insensitive—not to mention callous—to treat a woman’s physical shortcomings as a joke,’ she informed him tartly. The attractive laughter lines around his eyes smoothed out as their glances collided. ‘You don’t have any physical shortcomings,’ he announced abruptly. His eyes continued to devour her hungrily for several paralysing seconds before he got to his feet. ‘You have a good rummage for something to wear and I’ll sort out some food.’ Rowena, who found she had been holding her breath during that prolonged eye contact, released a long, shuddering sigh when she was left alone. Maybe, she pondered as she carefully sorted through the drawers of neatly folded clothes, it was a mistake to act as if the air didn’t crackle with electricity when they were in a room together. It wasn’t unreasonable to suppose that he’d want to do something about that sizzle once their more urgent needs like shelter and food were dealt with. Quinn’s old hunter-gatherer instinct had obviously kicked in strongly—especially after she’d all but ravished him earlier! You couldn’t just blow hot and cold on the man without offering some sort of explanation, no matter how lame. Perhaps she should tackle the problem head on and tell him—Sleeping together means nothing, Quinn, she could say. Sex is no basis for a long-term relationship, and even if I were into long-term relationships…which I’m not…I can’t risk falling in love. It’s a genetic thing; all the women in my family go a little strange when they fall in love. No, if she told him that he’d just think she was crazy. After due consideration what she actually said when she emerged downstairs was, ‘That smells nice.’ She noticed her favourite Gucci boots, barely recognisable in the their scuffed, battered condition, sitting forlornly beside the hot stove. She accepted their demise more philosophically than she would have a few hours earlier, when things like what she was wearing had still seemed important. Perhaps near-death experiences did that to a person…? Not that she could claim to be totally unconcerned about her appearance. Quinn, with his unstudied elegance, was the sort of man who made women conscious of their appearance. As she recalled the advice of a lady who had once been a top model Rowena’s head went up and her shoulders back as she crossed the room towards him. ‘It’s not what you wear, darling,’ she’d told Rowena, ‘it’s the way you wear it. If you carry yourself well you can look stylish in a sack.’ Well, what she was wearing now had to be one up from a sack! ‘Mushroom risotto, made with some dried shitake and chanterelles. Pass that saffron, would you…?’ Quinn requested without removing his gaze from the large open pan he was stirring. Rowena who had spent a long time fussing stupidly over her appearance—which, when your dress was a man’s baggy jumper and your footwear was wrinkled woolly socks, was pretty sad—experienced a totally irrational feeling of pique as she did as he requested. ‘This is definitely what I’d term back to basics,’ she observed, getting a closer look on the large pan perched on the cast-iron hotplate atop the room heater. Her forearm accidentally nudged his as she handed him the spice. ‘Sorry.’ Quinn turned his hand over, but instead of closing his long fingers around the spice pot he looked back and forth from the sleeve of his jumper to the almost identical sleeves of the one she wore. A slow grin spread across his ruggedly handsome face; the comparison seemed to amuse him. He lightly touched the fine-boned delicacy of her blue-veined wrist, feeling the echo of a strong pulse as his finger skated along the bony projection beneath her thumb. Again the contrast fascinated him, but not in a way this time that brought a smile to his lips. His eyes lifted and skimmed her face, taking in the big, dilated pupils and the half-scared, half-defiant expression on her delicately flushed English-rose face. Rowena was perfectly still, her eyes focused on his mouth, and each breath she took was an effort. Abruptly he dropped her wrist and, taking the spice pot from her lax grip, turned back to the cooking pot, leaving her to wonder whether what had happened had been a figment of her imagination. ‘We could buy matching anoraks too.’ Suffering from the effects of severe anticlimax, Rowena lowered her eyes and tried to distance herself from the ache deep inside. ‘If I was ever seen in an anorak my career would be in tatters.’ ‘You used to say that about having a baby,’ he reminded her, sprinkling some of the fragrant golden saffron threads into the cooking mixture. Rowena watched the saffron melt into the creamy dish, her whole body rigid with tension. ‘So I did.’ Quinn tasted a spoonful of creamy rice mixture and gave a satisfied grunt. ‘Don’t look so worried. Given your well-known views on the subject of executives with babies, I expect there’ll be a few sly nudges at first, but we can weather it,’ he announced confidently, placing the cooking pot on the table. ‘Could you pass down a couple of plates…?’ He nodded towards the shelf behind her. His benevolent line in advice set Rowena’s teeth on edge. Mouth set in a hard line, she reached up and did as he requested, blissfully unaware that the sweater she wore as a dress rode indecently high over her smooth hips as she did so. But Quinn noticed. She brought the plates crashing down on the wooden surface beside the steaming pot. She glared at him and he looked back, looking distinctly shifty. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked warily. Rowena folded her arms across her chest. ‘Where do I start?’ The streaks of heat across his cheekbones, no doubt as a result of his time spent huddled over the hot stove, seemed to be fading. ‘Firstly, there is no we.’ Quinn smiled thinly as he surveyed her flushed, antagonistic face. ‘It’s good to see a bit of colour back in your cheeks. And second? I take it there is a second…?’ he speculated drily. ‘Second,’ she bit back obligingly, ‘I haven’t changed my mind about anything at all. I still think that you can’t be a good wife and mother and have enough left for your career.’ Quinn’s expression hardened, and eyes as merciless as the sea swept her face. ‘Then you didn’t mean it when you said that you were keeping…?’ ‘I did mean it,’ she retorted impatiently. ‘I am going to keep the baby.’ She saw a wave of palpable relief pass over his tense features and tried not to soften her resolve. There were big changes ahead for her and she was scared. She couldn’t admit this to Quinn, but she could make him appreciate that insulting her intelligence by acting as if there would be no problem was not on! His eyes narrowed cynically. ‘Do I hear a but coming on…?’ ‘But I’m trying to be realistic. There aren’t enough hours in the day to do my job as well as I’d like to now.’ ‘You could always move into the office, or maybe not sleep at all.’ ‘I can do without the constant stream of facetious interruptions!’ ‘Consider my lips sealed,’ he returned with mock humility. Rowena thought it best not to consider his lips at all but, despite her caution, her stomach muscles tightened. ‘If there aren’t enough hours in the day now…when a demanding baby comes along…’ She gave an eloquent shrug. ‘You want a pat on the back for your noble sacrifice—fine, but while you’re being realistic, Rowena, it might be a good idea to remember that babies don’t just demand, they give too…’ Rowena stiffened at the reprimand in his voice. Resentment swelled in her tight chest. Sure, Quinn could afford to sneer at realism while she was doing the worrying for both of them. All he’d have to do was buy a new wallet to accommodate a few snapshots of his new baby and make the odd weekend free for a walk in the park. The fact that she’d have treated any suggestion that he might be anything more than a token presence in the baby’s life with extreme hostility didn’t affect her seething resentment. ‘I’m aware of that.’ She sniffed coldly. ‘Deciding to keep the baby wasn’t a sentimental decision…’ Sentimentality implied something superficial, and something far deeper and more profound, something she still didn’t understand herself, had motivated Rowena when she’d decided she wanted to keep this baby. ‘No, I can see that sentimentality would not be in keeping with your image.’ Her fingernails inscribed deep half-moons in the soft flesh of her palms as her hands balled into tight fists. He seemed determined to misinterpret everything she said. ‘I don’t have an image!’ Her teeth grated as one dark, eloquent brow lifted in silent scepticism. ‘What, not even the ice-maiden?’ he wondered, affecting surprise. His expression hardened. ‘Come off it, Rowena! People think you recharge your batteries at night, not sleep, and you play up to the role for all it’s worth. I’m not saying there’s a problem with that if it works for you; the problem arises when you carry on playing the role at home. Home, the place where you chill out, have a few beers with friends—cast your memory back, Rowena, you’re sure to remember what it’s like.’ His lip curled as his scornful gaze travelled over her body. ‘Or maybe not?’ He silently despaired at the fact that even in the midst of the heated row the promise of slim curves beneath the shapeless covering had an instant effect on his libido. He could almost feel the soft peach down of her skin. He shifted his stance uncomfortably—it was a strong effect, and not the sort that was easy to hide. It was the sort of effect that told Rowena it didn’t matter if she acted like a total bitch—Quinn Tyler was still a complete pushover when it came to her! He needn’t have worried because Rowena’s eyes didn’t leave his contemptuous face. For the sort of lifestyle Quinn described, you needed friends, Rowena thought dully. Over the years her circle had not expanded, but got smaller. At least she now knew what Quinn really thought about her. Given his strongly expressed views it seemed pretty obvious that it wasn’t pleasure in her company that made him seek her out—that left her body and sex. It wasn’t the first time a man had wanted her for her body—it was the first time the knowledge had hurt and depressed her this much! Well, it was good that was sorted, she told herself bracingly. At least she wouldn’t embarrass them both by reading anything deep and meaningful into his pursuit. ‘I suppose that makes me the person you’d least like to be stuck in a blizzard with. Bad luck, Quinn, but I suppose those are the breaks…’ She exhaled through her quivering nostrils. It didn’t seem likely that Quinn would believe what she was about to say, but she knew it was important for her to try—for some reason, Quinn’s opinion mattered to her. ‘Don’t laugh.’ This didn’t look likely. ‘But if you must know, I’m keeping the baby because I’ve discovered I’m as genetically programmed to protect this new life as the next woman…’ A knot of emotion ached in her throat as she met his eyes—he was still displaying no inclination to laugh, but she thought she did see something close to shock move at the back of his eyes. ‘It came as just as much of a shock to me.’ Her quick, self-derisive smile held no humour. It had been more than a simple shock; for someone who had been fighting against genetic programming most of her life, this was an incredibly hard admission to make to herself, let alone a second party—especially a second party who was personally involved. ‘I’m not shocked, Rowena,’ he replied, his voice surprisingly gentle. ‘I’m sure you’ll make a great mother.’ ‘I’m glad one of us is.’ His gentleness was nearly her undoing. She felt the tears sting her eyelids as she blinked rapidly, her eyes focusing on the steaming plate of food he slid in front of her. ‘I’ve never had a broody moment in my life.’ A baby deserves a better mother than me, she decided as a fresh batch of doubts assailed her. ‘You’ve never been pregnant before either. At least I’m assuming…?’ Rowena was amazed to see her fingers curled against the darker skin of his wrist. Her sensitive stomach flipped over before she self-consciously released him and picked up a fork. ‘No, I’ve never been pregnant before,’ she enunciated in a clear, icy voice. ‘Have you?’ She was already deeply regretting going public with her interlude of self-doubt. Quinn was undoubtedly ruthless and sneaky enough to turn any weakness she displayed to his own advantage. The problem was, she didn’t yet know what he did want. Quinn grinned and began to rub his wrists. ‘No, I’ve no experience to speak of, but I expect we’ll muddle through somehow…’ That we word again! And she didn’t know how anyone could look cheerful at the prospect of muddling through! Muddling through filled her with deep horror. Right now her head was filled with so much muddle, half the time she didn’t know her own name. Why, she was so muddled that, until he’d revealed exactly what he thought about her, she’d even questioned if it were possible Quinn hadn’t fallen in love with her—you couldn’t get more muddled than that! ‘Is there something wrong with your short-term memory, Quinn? I’ve already told you there is no we! There is not going to be any cosy scene of domestic bliss. I may be pregnant but some things haven’t changed. I don’t require a husband.’ ‘I don’t recall asking you to marry me.’ Rowena experienced an unexpected and totally perverse pang of abandonment. ‘Good, that saves me the embarrassment of refusing you. This is very good,’ she added brightly as she placed a forkful of risotto into her mouth. ‘And as always your concern for my feelings is uppermost.’ This time there was no mistaking his sarcasm. Rowena chewed nervously on her full lower lip. ‘I’m sorry if I hurt you, Quinn.’ If he hadn’t been so stubborn they could have had a nice time with no complications—at least, they could have if she hadn’t got pregnant. ‘But I told you my terms in New York—’ ‘Terms!’ he exploded, his face darkening with anger. ‘Good God, woman this isn’t a business negotiation we’re discussing, it’s a love affair.’ ‘I would never have a love affair with someone who yells at me!’ She shied away as he put out a hand towards her. A frustrated sound escaped from between Quinn’s bared teeth as his hand came down with a bang on the table surface. ‘I think I’ve some excuse for yelling. Why didn’t you tell me about the baby, Rowena?’ Rowena looked into his dark, impossibly attractive face and accepted what she’d been fighting against: she was in love with Quinn Tyler, and no matter how many telephone numbers she changed or how many miles she put between them, nothing was going to change that! The world spun and Rowena thought she might faint. She had put her faith in the theory that if a person took sensible precautions she could avoid falling in love. Discovering that her theory was seriously flawed left Rowena with no place to hide. Rowena hadn’t had to look very far to see how love could dramatically change women. Loving Grandpa had made Gran abandon a glittering career without a second thought, and it hadn’t stopped there—oh, no! After she’d married Dad her mother had rejected the exciting uncertainty of life as a budding young actress in favour of the security of life as a drama teacher, trying to teach a bunch of unappreciative kids who’d have preferred to be watching cartoons to the delights of Shakespeare. Now all she had was a scrapbook collection of yellowing newspaper reviews which Rowena had once found her weeping over. And now sensible Holly was jumping headlong into marriage with Niall, despite his dismal track record and the fact they had nothing whatever in common and at a point when distractions could be fatal to her fantastic career prospects! At least they had all had the comfort of knowing the men they loved were equally as soft in the head when it came to them. I’ve gone one better, I’ve fallen in love with a man who has never used the ‘L’ word, not even once! Rowena thought frantically. ‘Slow down, Rowena, you’re hyperventilating…Rowena!’ Quinn repeated sharply. He touched her shoulder and she pulled back, her eyes wide and hostile. ‘I’m fine…’ Slowly her breathing slowed and the red dots dancing before her eyes retreated. ‘I wasn’t ready to tell you. I didn’t even know at that stage what my plans were.’ ‘And now you do?’ ‘I’ll hand in my notice, of course.’ She was winging it and trying simultaneously to give the impression she’d given the whole thing a lot of intelligent thought—she could hardly say she was having trouble thinking a minute ahead. ‘Freelance writing is an option, I do have excellent contacts.’ ‘Hand in your notice! Are you insane?’ This scathing judgement seemed bang on to Rowena, who was wondering what she thought she was doing, blurting out the first rash thing that had come into her head. Only stubborn pride stopped her admitting she’d just been sounding off, that she actually didn’t know what she was going to do. A look of tired comprehension spread across Quinn’s strained face as their eyes met. ‘Oh, I get it, this is a matter of principle, I suppose…’ He was finding it increasingly difficult to abide by his earlier resolve not to get too confrontational or heavy while Rowena was very obviously still pretty traumatised by their snowy adventure. Rowena was perturbed to discover Quinn didn’t appear too impressed by her sacrifice—actually he looked blazing mad. ‘Principle and practicality, but, yes, it would be hypocritical to do anything else.’ Why didn’t she just say, You’ve ruined my life, Quinn, and have done with it? He thought. ‘And you’re never hypocritical, I suppose. My God!’ he exclaimed bitterly, raking a hand roughly through his dark hair. There was a limit to how much rubbish a man could listen to! ‘Do you know, at times you can be the most stiff-necked and pompous woman I’ve ever met! You’re totally obsessed with image. Do you ever consider anyone else but yourself and what you want?’ Rowena flinched at the ferocity of this unexpected tirade. Somewhere an image of Gran appeared, her robust frame frail, the intelligent light in her eyes dimmed…‘That’s not true!’ she gasped weakly. Quinn’s lips twisted in a sardonic smile that left his marvellous eyes cold and hostile. Rowena found it hard to recognise this Quinn in the laconic, laid-back individual she knew. ‘Really? I must have missed you asking me how I feel about becoming a father.’ He saw the flare of startled dismay in her eyes and refused to let it soften his resolve. He’d respected her hormones, repressed his baser instincts until she’d asked him not to, and given the best interpretation he knew how of an enlightened, modern man who respected a woman’s wishes, but there came a point when enough was enough and he’d passed it! ‘Have you even thought about it?’ Rowena felt her face colour guiltily. ‘I’ve already told you…’ she faltered uncertainly ‘…I thought I ought to sort out how I felt first.’ ‘I thought you had it all sorted, down to the big grand gesture of quitting your job,’ he mocked. ‘And don’t try telling me that’s got anything to do with not being able to combine motherhood and a career.’ He shook his head. ‘Sure, you’d take a bit of stick, but with a bit of humour you’d weather it. Oh, sorry,’ he drawled, ‘I was forgetting you never learnt how to laugh at yourself. Hell, talk about going from the sublime to the ridiculous! You’ll pack in the job you’ve always wanted just because—’ His reaction struck her as the height of perversity. Since when had Quinn rated what she did? ‘Who said I always wanted it?’ she snarled back. ‘You did, and even if you hadn’t I think I’d have guessed, seeing as how you went for it like a heat-seeking missile, and displayed just about as much consideration for anything and anybody that got in your way.’ So not only did he think she was a work-obsessed automaton, he thought she was a ruthless operator who wouldn’t know an ethic if it poked her in the nose! Rowena turned away and didn’t see the expression of consternation that flickered across his face. When she turned back her chin was up and her eyes were glistening defiantly. ‘I’m sorry if my methods offend your fine sensibilities.’ Quinn grimaced and wondered if he was going to stop saying the wrong thing any time soon. ‘Rowena…’ Shaking her head, she stepped back before his fingers could grip her shoulder. ‘I suppose,’ she mused with a small, bitter smile, ‘that I should be grateful you didn’t accuse me of sleeping my way to the top!’ With a sharp, angry twist of her head she sent a heavy strand of hair that lay across her cheek whipping backwards. ‘Hardly—you’ve not allowed any precious time in your schedule for anything as frivolous as a love life.’ Rowena didn’t bother denying this disdainful observation—partly because there was a lot of truth in it. ‘I suppose you’d think better of me if I’d slept with anything with a pulse, like you! Oh, no,’ she sneered, not allowing him an opportunity to respond. ‘Then I’d have been a tart.’ Her eyes blazed as she dwelt on the unfairness of it. ‘And don’t give me any of your “this is the twenty-first century” enlightened stuff; men like you, no matter what they say, always have double standards.’ Quinn stood there watching her bosom heave in agitation. ‘How many lovers have you actually had?’ The outrageous question coming totally out of the blue disconcerted Rowena almost as much as the gleam in his half-closed eyes. ‘I…what…? None of your business!’ Outrage brought a rush of fresh colour to her pale cheeks and stiffened her spine to ramrod rigidity. Quinn was unrepentant. ‘Five, twenty…’ One dark brow lifted. ‘More…less?’ ‘Why do you want to know? Other than nasty, prurient curiosity, that is,’ she said, her lips quivering in distaste. ‘Well, you weren’t on the pill…and you weren’t carrying any condoms…’ Not the normal behaviour of a sexually active woman, in his experience. ‘Which hardly makes me a virgin.’ Just a reckless fool with no self-control where Quinn Tyler was concerned. ‘No, just not the person best qualified to write some of the articles you have been responsible for.’ ‘Which you’ve read, I suppose?’ she drawled sarcastically. ‘I’ve seen enough to recognise a common theme.’ ‘Prove it,’ she challenged, calling his bluff. She was pretty sure he had never read a word she’d written. ‘Let me see…’ Rowena’s smug smile broadened as he appeared to flounder. “‘Men have been doing it for years, now it’s our turn”…?’ She was no longer smiling. “‘Cheat, but don’t get caught.” Would you say that’s a fair selection of your more grabbable titles?’ ‘You’re taking it totally out of context!’ she accused hotly. ‘I never advocated casual sex. In fact, I’ve frequently pointed out that many woman feel pressurised by the media to act like some sort of sex addicts when a great many of us would actually prefer a good book and a box of chocolates,’ she explained, with a pitying sniff of feminine disdain. ‘That surely would depend on what sort of lover they had.’ A dangerous grin slashed his lean features as his lashes lifted to reveal an equally menacing glitter in his eyes. The prickle under Rowena’s skin—a constant companion when Quinn was around—became a raw pain as she was hit by a wave of sexual longing so strong that for several moments her vocal cords were literally paralysed. ‘And I suppose if it was Quinn Tyler she’d not want to get out of bed all weekend…?’ she finally managed to retort huskily. The second the words were out of her mouth the images started playing in her head of the varied methods Quinn could and in all probability had used to keep his partners too exhausted to get out of bed. ‘I hate to sound conceited, but that’s not a situation without precedent.’ He smiled wolfishly. Before she’d been on the receiving end of that smile Rowena had fondly imagined ‘weak-kneed’ was just a figure of speech—now she knew differently. She took a deep gulp and plunged on defiantly, trying to focus on anything but his eyes. ‘And recently I’ve been researching an interesting article on celibate marriages…’ ‘Celibate marriages?’ he repeated incredulously. ‘Whatever will they think of next?’ he hooted. Rowena listened to his predictable male reaction with a pitying smile. ‘There’s nothing new about celibate marriages. Actually there are a lot of people out there who lead a perfectly fulfilling life without sex—out of choice—and before you start I have to tell you I’ve heard every crass joke about Viagra there is. Why assume a sexless marriage is a loveless marriage? I expect reactions like yours are why people aren’t inclined to go public about it. Not that I’d expect you to appreciate the relief some people experience when you take all the—’ ‘Passion and excitement?’ His flip interruption earned him a stern frown—the sort that made cocky assistant editors feel insecure. Unfortunately it didn’t have a similar dampening effect on Quinn. ‘Passion and excitement rarely make it past the first year…’ ‘That’s longer than your boyfriends, so I hear tell,’ he responded promptly. Rowena kept a hold on her temper with difficulty. ‘Platonic love has more staying power,’ she gritted. ‘And some people prefer the less volatile emotions like companionship and affection. Mutual respect,’ she added, dogged determination creeping into her tone as she refused to be influenced by his amused scepticism. She might even appreciate the irony one day in singing the praises of celibacy when her brain was filled to the brim with steamy sexy images—but not in the foreseeable future, she decided as a ribbon of cold sweat slid down her spine! ‘Is there some reason you can’t have mutual respect and passion?’ ‘Men,’ she retorted, ‘are notoriously incapable of juggling more than one task. I think the same goes for emotions. They respect their mothers, they love their children and they lust after their nubile secretaries,’ announced the woman who despised generalisations. The same woman who had an article on her laptop detailing the unfair press men received in the media these days. She wondered what Quinn would make of, ‘Has the balance swung too far in the other direction?’ She’d regretfully decided, ‘Are we castrating our men?’ might be a bit too strong for the magazine’s target audience. ‘My secretary is called Vincent and at a guess I’d say the idea of me being consumed by lust would alarm him deeply…’ ‘You know what I mean,’ she snapped crossly. He nodded. ‘Sure, men are shallow, sex-crazed monsters about covers it, I think. Well, as fascinating as the subject of other people’s sex lives—or, in this case, lack of them—is, we’re rather slipping from the point here.’ Just as well he’d remembered his point, because all she could concentrate on now was the flickering images in her head and what upped the agony factor was the fact that Quinn’s eager victim was no longer anonymous. She saw that same face every time she looked in the mirror. ‘You’re usually such a cautious person.’ His puzzled eyes moved over her face, noting several signs of strain there, including pinpricks of moisture beading her upper lip which he immediately fantasised about blotting with his own tongue before he—Don’t go there, Quinn, he instructed himself urgently. Too late! ‘I’m sure you’ve never left your car door unlocked in your life, and I’d have sworn that you’ve never left home without a tissue or other female essentials…’ And obviously the women Quinn knew thought of condoms as essentials. Come to think of it, a rival magazine that had done a piece on the average *******s of the handbag of a woman between the ages of twenty-five and thirty had thought so too, so possibly it was she who was wildly out of step with the times. ‘Is that meant to be a crude analogy? Because if so—’ ‘Hold up,’ he protested, holding up a hand to defend his innocence. ‘No analogy, crude or otherwise, no double or single entendre, even. I was just making an observation that you’re a very careful person—and before you jump down my throat again I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, I’m just pointing out it was a bit out of character.’ ‘It was a bit out of character for me to sleep with you…’ ‘It was, but now I’m happy to say it’s becoming a regular occurrence.’ Rowena closed her eyes—she’d walked right into that one! She tried not to let her thoughts get sidetracked. It was not easy, but she needed all her wits about her if she wasn’t going to reveal something that would only make it harder to say no when Quinn made his next move. It didn’t seem overly conceited to think he would at some point—if he hadn’t throttled her in the meantime. It was hard to remember, with all this aggression floating around, that they’d once had such an easy rapport. A nasty thought occurred to her. ‘I hope you’re not trying to imply it’s my fault I’m pregnant?’ she began. ‘Is that where this is leading? Because if you are—’ ‘It’s no more your fault than it is mine.’ Which, Rowena recognised immediately, wasn’t the same thing as saying either of them was innocent. ‘The only blameless person here is the baby.’ His long-lashed eyes dropped to Rowena’s flat belly. ‘I don’t think there’s much to be gained from apportioning blame…God!’ He groaned, immediately contradicting himself. ‘It’s no excuse, I know, but I’ve never had a condom tear on me before…’ The colour faded from her cheeks. ‘A condom tore? So that’s how…I did wonder, because you were so careful…’ Well, that was one mystery solved, but it opened up another. ‘And you knew? Why didn’t you say something?’ ‘I did, you said it didn’t matter. Actually,’ he recalled, a contemplative gleam in his eyes, ‘you said nothing mattered except—’ ‘Yes, well, there’s no point in post-mortem,’ Rowena cut in brightly—reminders of what she’d said she could do without. Actually Quinn had turned out to be very responsive to requests and even orders in her more urgent moments. It had never occurred to Rowena before that you could actually lead a man where you wanted him to go, and Quinn had displayed an amazing talent for interpreting her most inarticulate pleas. ‘I suppose you realise it’s the height of bad manners to quiz a woman on her sexual history,’ she added darkly. ‘If you must know, I’ve had enough lovers.’ ‘And were any of these numerous relationships long-lived?’ ‘I didn’t say there were lots, just enough and I’ve never had any interest in long-term relationships…’ she countered evasively. ‘How could I have forgotten?’ he drawled at his driest. ‘I hate to ruin all your plans to be a struggling single parent who’s nobly sacrificed her career for her baby…’ Rowena got the distinct impression he wasn’t sold on nobility ‘…but,’ he continued, his voice grim, his expression uncompromising, ‘this baby has two parents, and most people would expect a man in my position to give financial support. In fact,’ he added, ‘some people might expect me to do more…more as in marry you,’ he added when her blank expression of wary incomprehension didn’t lift. Very aware of his keen eyes on her face, Rowena kept her expression very still. ‘Well, luckily for you I’m not one of them.’ She even managed a passable laugh. ‘I’ll take that as a no, shall I…?’ Rowena frowned. He didn’t sound like a man who’d just had a lucky escape. ‘Well, if you don’t want to marry me, perhaps it would be better all round if I took responsibility for the baby after the birth. Personally I don’t think it can be good for a kid’s emotional development to have a mother who never stops reminding him or her of how great a career she could have had if she hadn’t sacrificed her all on the altar of maternal love. No,’ he mused, his eyes as hard as flint as they surveyed her face. ‘The more I think about it, the more sensible it seems. That way your meteoric rise need not be disrupted…If you carry on the way you are, in another couple of years you’ll never write another word—but, my, you’ll be powerful and that’s what counts, isn’t it?’ Leaving her sitting there with her mouth open, her face white with stunned disbelief, Quinn casually picked up his plate and left the table. |
CHAPTER SEVEN
FOR several seconds Rowena sat there too shocked to respond. She had wondered what Quinn wanted from her, now she knew—he wanted her baby! Not only did he want the baby, it was equally obvious he didn’t really want her—not even as an optional extra! You couldn’t class his brief reference to marriage as a real proposal! No, all Quinn wanted was a walking incubator, she thought as a blinding wave of rage washed over her. With a wrathful cry she suddenly leapt to her feet, slithering a little on the smooth stone floor in her stockinged feet. She righted herself and, with her hands planted firmly on her sashaying hips, advanced threateningly towards the tall figure who was stacking dirty dishes as if he’d not just as good as tried to kidnap her unborn child. Rowena waited for a few impatient toe-tapping seconds for him to acknowledge her presence before she lost patience—she was in no mood to be ignored—and prodded him in the back. ‘You’ll have this baby over my dead body!’ With an exclamation of frustration she ripped away the tea towel he’d been drying his hands on. ‘For heaven’s sake you’re not in Theatre and washing up isn’t a sterile procedure!’ she hissed. ‘Force of habit.’ ‘Is that all you’ve got to say?’ One corner of Quinn’s mouth lifted in a contemptuous curl as he surveyed her animated and angry features with cold, unfriendly eyes. ‘What do you want me to say?’ ‘A grovelling apology would be a good start.’ ‘I’d have thought you’d have welcomed the idea,’ he riposted languidly. ‘I mean, you obviously think our child is nothing more than an inconvenience.’ ‘How dare you look down your superior nose at me?’ she exploded, her hands balling into tight fists of frustration. ‘At least I’ve not bought into the glossy magazine image of a glowing mother and shiny new baby.’ ‘So now you’re the expert? Been moonlighting for one of those pregnancy magazines? Or has your magazine done a spread on designer outfits for the well-dressed newborn?’ His scorn brought an angry flush to her cheeks. ‘You’re a patronising pig!’ she told him with complete conviction. ‘Maybe I am, but it still doesn’t alter the fact that I’ve encountered a few more mothers and babies in my time than you,’ he retorted drily, recalling his exhausting stint on Obs and Gynae when newly qualified. ‘I’ve actually delivered my share of healthy babies.’ He didn’t add that he wouldn’t care to be put in a position where he had to do so again. ‘It’s what happens when they leave the hospital I’m thinking about.’ She didn’t dare think about what went before, after the one glimpse she’d taken inside the medical textbook Holly had left at her place. The peek had left her glassy-eyed and panic-stricken. ‘Let me tell you about motherhood. I’ve seen friends, who thought nothing of clubbing it to dawn the night before an important breakfast meeting, crawl into work after having a baby with bags under their eyes beyond even your capability of fixing. They are barely able to keep their eyes open past ten a.m. and ring the nanny with anxiety attacks at least ten times a morning. As for the glossy pictures…’ she snorted derisively ‘…I’ve been around when they take those. For every one that’s printed there are fifty where the baby is throwing up or screaming inconsolably.’ Breathless, she prodded him once more, this time in the chest. It was no more yielding than his stony, uninterested expression. ‘And what makes you think you could be a better parent than me?’ she demanded. ‘Just because you can knock up a meal out of a store cupboard.’ She gestured to the neglected risotto sitting sadly on her plate. ‘And incidentally it was over-seasoned—that doesn’t make you good father material!’ ‘I never said I’d make a good father—how can anybody know what sort of parent they’ll make? But I’m willing to give it my best shot. It’s not a crime to be excited about the prospect of parenthood, Rowena, but I’m not stupid. Of course I know it’s going to take a lot of adjustment. There’s a world of difference between being realistic and being negative.’ This combination of reasoned argument and sarcasm was mostly wasted on Rowena, whose short-circuited brain hadn’t managed to make sense of anything beyond ‘excited’. She gave her head a tiny puzzled shake as her bemused eyes met his. ‘You’re excited about having a baby…?’ A wary frown appeared between his brows as he nodded firmly. ‘What did you expect me to be?’ Angry…annoyed, at least…maybe even appalled. ‘I’d love to be excited,’ she admitted wistfully. The outline of his strong features suddenly blurred as hot tears filled her eyes. She blinked rapidly to stop them overflowing. ‘What’s stopping you?’ he prompted, his anger fading away to nothing as she raised her luminous, tragic eyes to his. For once Rowena couldn’t hide the conflict that was tearing her apart from the inside out. ‘I can’t…’ She gulped. ‘I’m too s…scared.’ A bitter little laugh escaped her aching throat. ‘No, that’s not true. Actually,’ she admitted bluntly, ‘I’m terrified. What if I can’t do it? What if I’m a lousy mother?’ Her voice shook as her deepest fears were revealed. ‘Oh, I know everyone thinks I do everything well. You know why that is, don’t you?’ Quinn shook his head, afraid to say or do anything that might make her retreat behind her defences once more. ‘I never attempt anything I know I won’t be brilliant at…’ ‘Except driving,’ Quinn interceded lightly. She sniffed ruefully. ‘Except driving,’ she agreed. ‘It’s a neat trick.’ Rowena nodded, her jaw set rigid to stop her chin wobbling as she swallowed the lump in her tight, aching throat. ‘I may be a coward, but don’t run away with the idea I’ll let you have this baby, Quinn. I’d fight you every step of the way if you made me.’ ‘Why?’ Rowena blinked, confused as much by the peculiar expression in his eyes as the abrupt question. ‘Well, obviously…because…because…’ Quinn took her by the shoulders and gave her a tiny shake. ‘Because…?’ ‘Because I want this baby.’ Her eyes widened to their fullest extent when she realized what she had just said. ‘Because your body clock’s ticking louder? Because your hormones are overriding your common sense?’ ‘No!’ she denied, fiercely resentful of his suggestions. ‘I just want a baby.’ A sense of wonder drifted over her face. ‘My baby,’ he said softly. Without thinking Rowena nodded—that was a big part of it. ‘I do…I really do.’ It was scary to hear herself admit for the first time that her decision to have the baby had very little to do with hormones or a sense of moral responsibility. She’d hidden away from the simple truth behind terms like duty and responsibility, and she’d blamed it on her biology, but all along she’d wanted a baby—not just any baby, but one that was hers and Quinn’s! Despite this revelation, there were still some corners of conflict in her mind. Part of her still thought it was selfish for someone like her to want a baby. Quinn’s head went back as he released a deep sigh. ‘At last!’ he breathed. He straightened up and eyed her with approval tinged by relief. ‘It took you long enough.’ Her bewilderment deepened. ‘I don’t understand,’ she faltered. ‘Sure you do,’ he denied warmly. ‘It’s not difficult. You want this baby, Rowena—our baby.’ His eyes flared with satisfaction. And that makes him happy? she thought. This was making less and less sense. ‘A minute ago I wasn’t a fit mother, and you wanted to take the baby away from me.’ Her expression darkened at the memory and without his being aware of it her hands spread protectively over her belly. A fresh unpleasant possibility occurred to her. ‘People will say my life is empty,’ she wailed. ‘That I can’t get anyone to love me and that’s why I’m having a baby.’ Maybe they had a point? Oh, God, what was she doing, saying these things to Quinn? He was probably taking notes for his lawyer. The problem was, now that she’d finally started saying what she was feeling, she couldn’t seem to close the floodgates. Like the copious tears she was continually brushing from her cheeks, the words just kept flowing. ‘Do you think there’s a possibility you’ve been reading your own copy too often…?’ ‘I’m perfectly serious!’ she snapped. ‘I know, that’s what’s so scary,’ he muttered. ‘Or, then again, perhaps they’ll think the baby’s the ultimate fashion accessory…?’ he observed slyly. Eyes wide with shocked indignation, her head reared back. She grunted and released her breath in a rueful sigh the second she encountered the wry expression in his heavy-lidded eyes. ‘You have a very warped sense of humour,’ she said. It occurred to her that Quinn seemed to be less shocked by her revelations than she was. ‘Perhaps, but in a long line of extremely stupid things you’ve said recently that had to be one of the most stupid. There are a lot of people out there who love you, Rowena Parrish. You know that.’ ‘I know that,’ she admitted shamefaced, thinking of her family who were even now probably worried sick about her. There was a little ache in her heart because if Quinn had wanted to add himself to the list he referred to he had surely just had the ideal opportunity. His silence spoke volumes. ‘If you were as lacking in maternal instincts as you make out you’d have jumped at the opportunity to palm off the baby and not turned all feral on me.’ He rubbed the area mid-way up his chest where her aggressive finger had left a red patch that would later become a bruise. ‘I didn’t turn feral,’ Rowena denied, embarrassed at the description. A flicker of shock crossed her face. ‘Did you say that thing—about taking the baby—deliberately, to get a reaction?’ she asked, not sure she liked the idea of him manipulating her in such a calculating manner. ‘I wish I could claim to be that perceptive, but actually I just lost my cool. It’s pretty hard when someone you care for is acting as if you’ve ruined their life—especially when it’s a pretty justified viewpoint,’ he brooded darkly. For a brief moment Rowena flirted with the idea of challenging him about the ‘someone you care for’ ******* of his statement, but on sober reflection she decided to leave well alone. Leaping on some casual comment smacked of sad desperation, so instead she summoned up a strained smile. ‘I suppose that’s something; it’s bad enough talking to you at the best of times. If you suddenly developed the ability to see into my head too…Well, it just doesn’t bear thinking about!’ she admitted frankly. Especially when you considered the erotic fantasies swirling about in her head! ‘Sometimes,’ he replied, catching the angle of her jaw between his thumb and forefinger, ‘I think I do know what you’re thinking and on those occasions it seems spookily like you know what I’m thinking too…Let’s try out the theory. What am I thinking now?’ he asked throatily. Rowena caught her breath. His expression was still and tense and inside all that stillness his wonderful eyes glowed. They had that dark, raw, turned on look that made her melt inside and turned her control switch all the way to frantic! She licked her lips nervously and swayed towards him, completely mesmerised. He had barely even touched her and in a matter of seconds she was totally out of control. She wanted him to touch her, though; she wanted it badly. Her heart rate would have set cardiac monitors screaming warnings, her skin temperature shot up several degrees. She was so aroused that every slight movement, the very touch of the air on her skin made her shift restlessly. ‘Well…?’ This was the point where she could easily have cooled things down with a few well-chosen words. Instead of using those words she heard herself respond in an embarrassingly weak, breathless whisper. ‘I really…I really couldn’t say.’ ‘I’m thinking about your hair.’ His voice had the texture of rough velvet as he reached out and let a few soft strands of her pale hair slide through his long fingers. ‘So silky, so fine.’ Rowena shivered and did so again and again as uncontrollable tremors slid through her body. ‘And your skin, so smooth and firm like satin.’ One finger trailed down her cheek before falling away. His darkened eyes fell at the same moment to the agitated rise and fall of her unconstrained breasts under the borrowed sweater. When his eyes lifted they were burning. It was just a look but her insides flooded with hot pleasure and even hotter desire—she was on fire for him. She whimpered with relief when he took her face between his hands and drew her pliant body towards him. ‘Are you going to kiss me any time soon?’ she asked, looking from his eyes to his mouth and back again. ‘All in good time,’ he purred, running his tongue over the inside of her full, pouting lower lip. Anticipating the actual moment he would eventually possess the honeyed sweetness of her lips only heightened the desire coursing like fire through his veins. However, this small display of will-power gave him the illusion he still had some control, some choice, but deep down Quinn knew that where Rowena was concerned his discipline was nil! The bottom of her stomach dissolved. ‘Oh, my God!’ Weak with need to the point of collapse, she clung to him. Her engorged nipples burned, the clutching, congested ache low in her belly reached crisis point as her firm, rounded thighs trembled. Given the urgency of her need, this was not a moment for subtlety! Motivated now by nothing but a driving need to assuage the demanding ache centred between her legs, she pushed herself against him, rubbing her body erotically against the aggressive bulge of his hard arousal. As she felt him suck in his breath Rowena pressed her open mouth to his. Quinn’s response was immediate; he was kissing her back with a frantic hunger and wild intensity that made her senses spin. Like a famished man, his tongue plunged and tasted, his teeth nipped—it was more than a kiss but less than total possession, and Rowena wanted total possession! Her neck extended to give his mouth access to the smooth, graceful curve. ‘Take me to bed?’ she whispered as his breath fanned over her ear. Eyes burning, she turned her face to his. Quinn’s face was very close to hers. She had time to hazily note that there was a dark flush along his cheekbones and the angular planes of his face appeared harder and sharper in the moment before his piercing eyes captured her own. After that she couldn’t see anything but those glorious emerald depths. ‘See, I told you, you do know what I’m thinking.’ He grinned, sweeping her up into his arms. When Rowena woke some time later darkness had fallen; the candles in the wall sconces flickered, sending dancing, elongated shadows across the crumpled bedclothes and the two occupants. Yawning, she stretched languidly, with an almost feline grace, and her knee came into contact with something solid and warm. Shocked into wakefulness, she jerked back, her blue eyes shot open—then she relaxed. It was Quinn. Who else did you expect? she asked herself mockingly. Rowena had never woken up beside a man, never watched a man sleep, and the unexpected intimacy of this warm, sleepy afterglow took her by surprise. Head supported on one hand, she looked curiously at the man beside her. He lay asleep on his stomach, his head turned to one side with the heavy, decadent, embroidered velvet top cover pushed down to his waist. The soft golden candlelight flickered over the powerful sculpted contours of his back and brought out the subtle auburn highlights in his dark, glossy hair. His even-coloured golden skin looked satiny and smooth. He appeared to be sleeping deeply, the rhythm of his breathing deep and regular, his head cradled in the crook of one arm. In slumber his stern profile was softer, almost vulnerable. Looking at the strong, clean-cut lines of his jaw, the droop of heavy lashes across his slashing cheekbone, made her feel almost protective—or was it almost possessive…? No almost about it, girl! The thought of any other woman being where she was, seeing what she was seeing, made her sick with jealousy. It was an emotion she’d never experienced in relation to a male before, and the raw intensity of it scared her. Would he wake if she touched him? Her fingertips flexed as she silently contemplated tracing the line of his strong, supple spine all the way down to that intriguing cleft just above his tight buttocks. The texture, taste and scent of that smooth olive-toned skin was still fresh in her head. A small, gloating smile tugged at full lips still tender and swollen from his kisses as she thought about rediscovering the tactile delights his body offered. Quinn shifted restlessly in his sleep and Rowena drew guiltily back, and then she drew back some more as he rolled even closer in the big bed. She bit back a startled cry as, with an indistinct, throaty murmur, he threw his arm over her body. She lay there hardly daring to move, hardly daring to breathe. His arm heavy, inert and warm lay just below her ribcage, effectively pinning her to the bed. Well, this wasn’t strictly true—she could have moved, it was more a case of she didn’t want to! She shot a darting glance to his long fingers curled possessively over the crest of her hip and a flash-flood of heat engulfed her body. Slowly, concentrating on a small portion of her body at a time she forced herself to relax. It wasn’t as if it was a bad feeling having his warm body close to her, so close in fact she could feel his breath on her neck. Her own body still felt warm and satiated, the glow low in her belly a reminder of Quinn’s ferociously tender possession. Quinn had lit the candles before they’d made love. ‘That settles it. Definitely a love-nest, no doubt whatsoever,’ he announced authoritatively. ‘Candles are a girl thing. The only reason a man uses candles is to put a lady in the right mood.’ ‘Speaking from personal experience, are we?’ she mocked as she covetously watched the long, lean fluid lines of his body as he padded about with lithe, unselfconscious grace, lighting them all before the burning taper in his hand almost singed his fingertips. ‘Have you burnt yourself? You should put them in water.’ ‘I’ve a much better idea,’ Quinn replied, leaping onto the bed with athletic fervour. ‘You lick them cool for me. Medically speaking, saliva has astonishing healing powers.’ This scandalous suggestion made her colour rise. ‘That’s a very resourceful suggestion,’ she admitted hoarsely. ‘I’m a very resourceful man.’ The resourceful man started stripping off his trousers. If she’d been feeling a little more assured Rowena might have challenged him to prove this claim. But she thought her response was pretty adequate—Quinn’s reaction to it suggested it was, anyhow. The complacent grin was certainly wiped off his face when, kneeling just in front of him, she whipped the borrowed jumper over her head and flung it carelessly aside. His eyes and jaw dropped simultaneously. ‘Oh, my God!’ she heard him mutter. Her eyes smouldered with sultry triumph as the air was audibly expelled from his lungs in one long, painful gasp. Surviving his scorching scrutiny without covering herself or moving was a feat of remarkable endurance. Eventually she could bear it no more. ‘Which hand was it?’ His glazed, unfocused gaze returned jerkily to her face. ‘To hell with hands!’ he growled, lunging for her. The memory of what came next she would treasure for the rest of her life. His erotic explorations made her skin burn. And when it came the climax surpassed the mere physical—it touched her soul. In fact it did more than that: it provided proof positive for a born cynic that she had one! Maybe some of what she felt communicated itself to Quinn because he didn’t question the tears that poured down her cheeks as he drew her into his arms afterwards. ‘Why are you crying?’ The sound of his voice in the present made Rowena start violently. Awkwardly she edged farther down beneath the covers and drew them up over her bare shoulders. ‘I didn’t know you were awake.’ She hadn’t known she was crying either. She touched the back of her hand to her cheek and felt the moisture. ‘I’m about half and half.’ Quinn rolled onto his back and stretched luxuriously, one arm flung over his head. ‘Are you going to tell me why…?’ Rowena, conscious that she had been all but drooling at the rippling display of muscular perfection, withdrew her flustered glance and shook her head. ‘Hmm?’ ‘You might recall I asked you why you’re crying a whole sixty seconds ago,’ came the wry reminder. Considering he was responsible for her lack of concentration, she didn’t think it very nice of him to be irritated by it. ‘Oh, that.’ She shrugged, dismissing the tears. ‘I wasn’t crying, I was just thinking about…’ She dropped her eyes self-consciously. She could hardly tell him his ardent love-making was so spectacularly unforgettable—so uniquely fulfilling that the memory would probably still be able to reduce her to an emotional basket case when she was an old, old lady. ‘About something that made you cry?’ Suspicion threaded his words. She rubbed her nose against the sheet. ‘What can I say? I’m a mess of seething hormones.’ The comment invited laughter but Quinn didn’t seem to realise it; his expression remained sombre and thoughtful. ‘I suppose you are.’ A man would have to be very insensitive to ask a woman whose hormones were all over the show to make a life-changing decision. Abruptly he rolled onto his stomach and planted a hand either side of her face on the pillow. There was nothing in any way lecherous about his lazy, warm smile but her heart began to race. But then the scent of his skin in her nostrils was enough to do that and you couldn’t discount the degree to which the brazen pressure of his heavy thigh against her own disconcerted her! Rowena swallowed convulsively—he was so damned gorgeous she couldn’t take her eyes off him. He looked down at the outline of her slim body lying beneath him. A frown appeared above his aquiline nose as his roaming glance reached the suggestion of soft hips under the covers and stayed put. ‘I take it your gynaecologist has not picked up any problems?’ he probed cautiously. ‘I’m pregnant, not ill, Quinn.’ Quinn looked exasperated by her impatient response. ‘In other words you’ve not seen a doctor yet.’ He sighed, shaking his head. ‘That’s so typical of you, Parrish.’ ‘I’ve seen you.’ Suppressing a bubble of naughty laughter, she caught her lower lip between her teeth. ‘Quite a lot of you actually, Tyler,’ she elaborated with a lascivious little leer as her glance followed the flow of dark body hair on his chest to the place where it arrowed into a thin fine line over his lean belly. The image sent an excited shiver down her spine. ‘And very nice too,’ she admitted, a husky catch in her voice. ‘Very kind of you to say so.’ She reached up and let her fingers slide across his collarbone. A slow, sultry smile tugged at her wide, sexy mouth. ‘You know,’ she mused throatily, ‘I think I might be passably good at it after all. It as in sex, and passably as in pretty marvellous.’ Quinn raised himself above her and supported himself on straight arms. After his initial sharp inhalation his breathing seemed to have settled into a shallow, almost laboured pattern. ‘You wouldn’t be trying to distract me, would you?’ At this point Rowena, who was regretting her brazen behaviour, would have liked to turn away, but breaking eye contact with Quinn when he had other ideas was a nonstarter. ‘You haven’t told me what you think.’ ‘I think,’ he finally responded in a low, sardonic drawl, ‘that it isn’t outside the realms of possibility. In fact, given the right encouragement, I think you could be brilliant.’ He shook his head as a slow grin split his dark features. ‘Though I have to admit you’re doing pretty well just doing what comes naturally.’ With a laugh he suddenly rolled away from her. Rowena found herself laughing too as they lay side by side staring at the rich canopy over their heads. Almost in unison they turned their heads to face one another. Continuing the symmetrical theme, the laughter died from both their faces at the same moment—the moment that the electricity flashed between them. As if drawn by an invisible cord, Rowena leaned towards him, bringing her face close up to his. ‘Come on,’ fess up, Rowena, you haven’t seen a doctor, have you?’ A sound of frustration whistled through her teeth as she angrily rolled herself in the sheet and to the opposite side of the bed. Her femme fatale act obviously needed some work. Talk about anticlimax! ‘I’ve hardly had time yet to see doctors,’ she said crossly. ‘That’s no excuse—it’s been over two months since the baby was conceived. It’s always possible to make time for the important things in life,’ he evangelised virtuously. Virtue, she reflected grumpily, was so much harder to stomach when you knew the person dishing it out was right. ‘What sort of things would those be, Quinn?’ she asked, displaying deep interest. ‘Being seen at film premières with bosomy starlets?’ Quinn grimaced. ‘Ah, you saw that one, did you?’ ‘Holly sent me the video tape.’ At the time she had wondered why her sister had imagined that seeing Quinn for thirty seconds parading through a foyer of celebrities with a skimpily dressed actress on his arm would offer any entertainment value. ‘Actually, Angie wasn’t really that well endowed. It was just an unfortunate camera angle and a lot of, erm, underwiring…’ He shifted his weight onto one elbow and used his other hand to mime the uplift aspect of his description. Rowena sniffed with lofty disdain. ‘Unfortunate from whose point of view?’ ‘I was simply doing a mate a favour, you know.’ She smiled understandingly. ‘And hating every minute of it, I could tell,’ she guffawed insincerely. ‘Mark, the poor sod, had mumps. He was totally gutted; he’d been chasing Angie for months. He had enough to worry about with the spectre of infertility hanging over him without imagining some smoothie running off with his girlfriend.’ And this from the smoothie of all smoothies! ‘And he thought you were a safe pair of hands? My, doesn’t he need his head testing!’ Quinn’s fascinating mouth twitched. ‘As illuminating as this display of claws is, I think we’re drifting again…’ He didn’t allow Rowena, who had opened her mouth to hotly contest this accusation of jealousy, to get a word in before he seamlessly continued. ‘The first thing we do when we get back to London is organise some antenatal care for you. I know a really first-class woman, Alex Stone, you’d get on with her…but of course if you have someone else in mind…’ ‘You mean I can actually choose my own doctor?’ She gasped, giving her best rendering of a helpless little girl voice. ‘Are you quite sure?’ ‘Very funny. But, seriously, Rowena, we shouldn’t drag our feet on this one—’ ‘We?’ ‘Of course we. I want to be with you every step of the way with this, Rowena, before and after the birth. And while we’re talking about it, this might be as good a time as any to think about the benefits of us moving in together?’ He looked and sounded so damned casual that Rowena’s first thought was that she must have misunderstood him. ‘You’re suggesting that we move in together?’ ‘It would make child care a lot easier—think about it…’ he suggested, hardly sounding as if her decision was exactly life or death to him. ‘There’s no desperate hurry, but I think you’ll find it makes sense,’ he added, levering himself upright and throwing back the covers, displaying a relaxed attitude to his naked state that Rowena frankly envied. Sense! The argument no longer had the same pulling power for her that it had done until recently. No, Rowena had discovered she wasn’t so different from her contemporaries after all. She didn’t want sense, she wanted passion! She wanted a man who said his life would be nothing without her in it; she wanted promises of eternal devotion—in short, she wanted the full works! And Quinn very obviously wasn’t going to supply them. There was a certain horrid irony to the situation. Rowena, who had spent her life avoiding emotional complications, had fallen for a guy who had an approach as pragmatic as her own had been. Still, you couldn’t throw the baby out with the bath water…a flicker of affection closely followed by worry crossed her face as she heard Gran’s brisk, no-nonsense voice in her head serving up this favourite piece of advice. It was one she had frequently employed when Rowena had been on the point of ditching some scheme or other that hadn’t gone exactly to plan. It wasn’t exactly hard to think of plus points beyond the mere practicality of living with Quinn when he was strutting about the bedroom in a state of beautiful undress. And who was to say his feelings wouldn’t deepen later? Rowena, the covers modestly drawn around her shoulders, sat upright. The defiant tilt of her chin was aimed more at the small voice in her head that despaired at the unrealistic, fingers-crossed decision she’d arrived at with such undue haste than at him. ‘All right, then.’ ‘All right?’ Quinn paused in the act of retrieving his trousers from the floor—not a situation that would show off most men to their best advantage, but then Quinn was not your average man! She watched him straighten up with that smooth, fluid grace that typified his every movement; her stomach responded quiveringly to the striking erotic image. ‘On one condition.’ ‘We are talking about us moving in together, here, aren’t we?’ Rowena nodded. Unusually for Quinn, he was displaying shock—perhaps at the speed with which she’d reached her decision. ‘I think we should have a probationary period during which we can find out if we’re compatible,’ she said, trying with her aloof demeanour to rebalance any appearance of undesirable eagerness she might have previously displayed. ‘We know we’re perfectly compatible.’ His eyes moved extremely obviously in the direction of the tumbled bed covers, inescapable evidence of their frantic coupling. If sex was all it took to make a successful relationship, they’d have it made, she thought, removing her own gaze from the proof of their lovemaking. ‘I’m talking about outside the bedroom,’ she snapped back. ‘Two seconds.’ Her frown deepened. ‘Two seconds what?’ ‘It took seconds for your blush to peak.’ ‘You were timing it?’ He nodded. ‘That might be a record.’ ‘I’m awfully glad I amuse you.’ This was only their future she was talking about and he was making dumb jokes at her expense. Quinn sighed. ‘It’s only a joke. I like you blushing. It’s charming and cute.’ ‘Cute!’ she echoed, her face screwed up in disgust. ‘Is that meant to be a compliment? If so, I have to tell you, you badly miscalculated.’ Quinn’s jaw tightened. ‘Perhaps you should compile a blacklist of unacceptable compliments.’ How did he always turn things around so that she came out the unreasonable one? ‘You wouldn’t call a man cute, would you?’ Not the most staggeringly intelligent riposte you’ve ever come up with, Rowena, she told herself. ‘You don’t want me to answer that, do you?’ Rowena shook her head, feeling a complete moron. ‘But I do want you to treat me like your intellectual equal, not someone to pat on the head.’ ‘So I’m supposed to say your intellect turns me on? Well, quite frankly I’d be lying. Your mind is a maze to me, your motivations are mostly a complete mystery, I just think I’ve got you worked out and you go and—’ ‘Do something daft and get pregnant.’ ‘There you go again!’ he yelled as, pushing his fingers deep into his dark hair, he shook his head wearily from side to side. ‘Putting words into my mouth. For heaven’s sake, woman, why can’t you just go with the flow?’ He sighed. With an inarticulate squeal of frustration Rowena grabbed a pillow and pushed her head under it. It was hard to maintain his animosity when confronted by the image of her neat little behind stuck up in the air, swaying gently backwards and forwards. When her repertoire of foul language was exhausted Rowena emerged, her cheeks pink and her hair sticking up. ‘Have you any idea how much you irritate me when you say things like that?’ she demanded. ‘Things like what?’ ‘Chill out, go with the flow…’ With a choked sob she pulled the pillow across her chest and buried her face in it. She stayed like that for several moments, rocking back and fro before straightening up. ‘Well, any trial run seems obsolete now, doesn’t it?’ Quinn folded his arms across his bare chest and looked belligerent. ‘Why’s that?’ ‘Are you mad? We’ve got nothing whatever in common. The fact is I’m a picture straightener, always have been, always will be, and you…’ She forced herself to look at the tall, dynamic figure who made her ache with a mixture of lust, love and frustration. ‘At heart you’re a slob, Quinn. Oh, I know you look respectable when you’re working.’ Respectable hardly covered the elegant, commanding figure he cut in his dark designer suits and handmade shoes. ‘But that’s not the real you, is it?’ ‘You think you know who the real me is?’ He looked fascinated. ‘The real you is the one crawling round underneath that motorbike of yours wearing jeans and a tee shirt covered in oil.’ ‘Well, I’d look damned stupid fixing the brake pads on the bike in a suit and tie, wouldn’t I?’ ‘You’re missing the point.’ ‘No, I’m not, you’re getting bogged down with a lot of stupid details that don’t really matter. The bottom line is your life has improved beyond all recognition with me in it.’ A laugh of pure disbelief was torn from her throat. ‘You really are unbelievable!’ She gasped, half laughing at his outrageous arrogance. ‘It’s true, you’ve always needed a challenge—’ ‘I can’t dispute you’re that!’ ‘Your trouble is you inspire admiration, awe and fear in men.’ ‘But not in you?’ ‘No, when I’m not wanting to strangle you, I’m thinking about when, where and how I’m going to make love to you,’ he announced with breathtaking candour. All manner of steamy images passed rapidly before her burning eyes as she drew in a shuddering breath. ‘Always supposing we did move in together, and I’m only saying supposing…’ she began shakily. ‘Of course.’ She was relieved to see he was happy to play along with the pretence that her decision hadn’t always been a foregone conclusion. She’d been making sensible decisions all her life—perhaps it was time she started making the odd crazy one. She was starting to think that steering clear of emotional attachments hadn’t been sensible, just cowardly. Or maybe there was only so long you could ignore your genes—perhaps it was her destiny to go crazy like all the other women in her family. ‘There’s another condition,’ she explained, trying to give the impression this codicil was an unimportant afterthought. Quinn looked suspicious. ‘You don’t want me to sell my bike, do you?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t think we should date anyone else.’ She half expected him to pick up on the inescapable fact there wasn’t much possibility of her pulling with a bump the size of a house preceding her into a room! ‘Monogamy?’ Quinn sucked in his breath and shook his head doubtfully. ‘That’s a big ask!’ Rowena’s heart dropped somewhere south of her knees; her stomach churned. If her eyes hadn’t also dropped she’d have recognised the unmistakable flare of anger in Quinn’s lustrous eyes. ‘It’s non-negotiable,’ she gritted. Compromise was one thing, becoming a doormat was something else again. ‘Good grief, woman!’ Quinn ejaculated, his expression morphing into one of extreme exasperation as his green eyes skimmed her flushed face. ‘Do you actually think I’m the sort of man who would have one woman at home and keep a bit on the side?’ He looked at her expression of self-conscious guilt and snorted with disgust. ‘Oh, that’s just damned great,’ he drawled with a jaundiced scowl. ‘You do, don’t you?’ Rowena’s eyes slid uncomfortably away from the accusation in his cynical glare. ‘I just wanted you to know what you were letting yourself in for,’ she muttered, chewing her lip. ‘It would seem I’m letting myself in for living with a woman who thinks I have no staying power in the fidelity department.’ ‘It’s not too late to change your mind!’ she flared. Quinn’s narrowed gaze stilled on her flushed face. ‘Oh, you’ll not get rid of me that easily, sweetheart.’ Rowena shivered. ‘You make it sound like a threat,’ she accused, secretly relieved he hadn’t taken her up on her rash offer. It was quite horrifically politically incorrect to be attracted by the air of danger he was effortlessly projecting, but she couldn’t help herself. Perhaps, she pondered, it was all right to be turned on by menace when you knew the person oozing it would never hurt you. Quinn smiled and pulled the narrow-cut trousers up over his snaky hips. ‘A threat, a promise.’ He shrugged carelessly. ‘It’s much the same thing.’ A promise, she thought, didn’t have sinister overtones. ‘All this quarrelling doesn’t seem a very auspicious start to this…this…’ What did you call what they were embarking on? She glanced up at Quinn who had obviously recognised her dilemma and had no intention of helping her out. ‘Arrangement,’ she finished with a sigh of relief. ‘People in arrangements frequently quarrel, Rowena, though I can hardly expect you to know about such things.’ ‘Meaning…?’ ‘Meaning you’ve got a nerve questioning my commitment. If you recall, it was me who wanted to put our relationship on a more formal footing right from the beginning—you were the one that wanted the freedom to shop around.’ The crude assessment made her wince. ‘Just how many lovers do you think I’ve had?’ she yelled. ‘I have never shopped around, as you put it, and you can’t pretend that you would have been talking about moving in together if I hadn’t got pregnant.’ ‘We’ll never know, will we?’ Rowena knew evasion when she heard it. ‘And the point is you are pregnant. Let’s deal with that.’ Rowena took a deep breath. He was right. She had to deal with the knowledge that she loved someone who didn’t love her. It’s not a total tragedy, she told herself sternly. Stop griping about what you don’t have and wake up to what you do have—Quinn is a fantastic lover, he’ll make a great father to our child and he’ll never deliberately hurt you. ‘Yes, and a baby needs security.’ Not to mention two parents. An odd expression flickered into Quinn’s eyes. ‘And what do you need, Rowena?’ Love! she wanted to shout. Fortunately the emotional lump the size of a large boulder that was at that moment lodged in her aching throat ruled out such an indiscreet and unwise response. Mutely she shook her head. ‘I know right now it feels as if you’re giving up your freedom, but you never know—one day you might even come to believe you’d gained something even more precious.’ Leaving her to ponder his cryptic parting shot, he pushed open the door of the en suite bathroom and strode inside, the door clicking closed after him. Rowena had just started tidying away the remains of the meal Quinn had cooked when he appeared wearing a towel around his trim middle. ‘What are you doing?’ Despite the fact it must be perfectly obvious what she was doing, in the interests of harmony Rowena replied, ‘Clearing up.’ ‘Leave it until later,’ Quinn responded, dismissing the sink half full of dirty pots with a lordly gesture. ‘But…but…’ Her eyes widened as Quinn snuffed out the candles she’d lit between his thumb and forefinger. ‘Now you can’t see them. Does that make it easier?’ His dark velvet voice reached her through the blanket of darkness. ‘I’ll still know they’re there.’ She started as his hand closed firmly over hers. ‘Listen, I think I’m taking it pretty well considering you obviously find it hard to choose between me and dirty dishes. So stop fussing, woman, and come with me.’ ‘Come where? I can’t see,’ she protested, resisting just enough to demonstrate she wasn’t a pushover, but not enough to discourage him too much as he tugged her forward. ‘I’ll see for us both.’ ‘Oh, and I suppose you can see in the dark?’ ‘Actually I do happen to have exceptional night vision…’ ‘And an ego the size of Ben Nevis,’ she grumbled as an iron arm fastened around her waist. ‘It doesn’t look as if I have much choice, does it?’ ‘And we all know how much you love to sit back and let someone else take control.’ Frowningly, she absorbed his smooth comment as he led her across the room and to the foot of the stairs without bumping into anything. It was either luck or it hadn’t been an idle boast—he really could see in the dark. ‘Are you saying I’m a control freak?’ she demanded as they mounted the stairs together. Quinn laughed bitterly in reply but didn’t pause. He led her swiftly through the bedroom and towards the bathroom. Rowena tried to wrest her arm from his tenacious grip. ‘Will you just let me—?’ ‘Stop it, you’ll hurt yourself.’ ‘No, actually, you’ll hurt me…’ With a curse Quinn released her arm. ‘Thank you,’ she began sarcastically. Quinn leant over her head and pushed the bathroom door behind her open. Her head automatically turned in the direction of the soft light that suddenly spilled from the room. ‘Oh, wow!’ she breathed, stepping like someone in a dream over the threshold. The opulent room with its enormous claw-footed bath was filled with the light of flickering candles; they covered just about every available surface. The soft light picked out the fragrant oil floating on the warm water filling the tub. If there had ever been a seduction scene set, she was looking at it. She heard the door softly close. ‘You did this for me?’ she whispered, not turning around. His hands moved to her shoulders, drawing her back against his body. ‘I did this for us, Rowena,’ he corrected throatily. ‘I’d like us to take some good memories away with us.’ Tears standing out in her eyes, she spun around. ‘Oh, Quinn,’ she cried, ‘I’ve already got more of those than I ever thought possible!’ she declared passionately. ‘There’s room for more, though…?’ She reached boldly for the zip on his trousers. ‘Definitely,’ she agreed, her eyes not leaving his. |
thanxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx nargis
:flowers2::Thanx::flowers2::Thanx::flowers2::Thanx::flowers2 ::Thanx: |
| ÇáÓÇÚÉ ÇáÂä 07:21 PM. |
Powered by vBulletin® Version 3.8.11
Copyright ©2000 - 2024, Jelsoft Enterprises Ltd.
SEO by vBSEO 3.3.0 ©2009, Crawlability, Inc.
ÔÈßÉ áíáÇÓ ÇáËÞÇÝíÉ