Start Me Up (6 page)

Quinn would be collecting on that premium now, though it had been the challenge of the project that had driven him to take it on rather than the money. He’d spent days turning possibilities over in his head, but the swimming had finally unlocked the puzzle for him, as it often did. Something about the rhythm and the echoing solitude worked like meditation for him.

He was picturing the cantilevered jut of the suspended living room when his cell rang. The sound tossed a sudden thought into his brain, where it exploded like a white-hot cherry bomb.

It might be Lori.

“Holy
crap.
” Quinn scrambled to grab the phone, but the front wheel hit a slight buckle in the shoulder of the road, and when he jerked the car back onto the blacktop, the phone skittered away.

“Shit.” He’d forgotten to call her. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He pulled into a lot, threw his car into Park and dived across the seat to grab the phone.

“Hello?”
he nearly shouted.

“Good morning, Mr. Jennings.” The cool voice of his office manager flowed across the ether. Jane. Just Jane.

Collapsing back into his seat, Quinn let his head hit the headrest. “Morning, Jane.”

“I hope I’m not disturbing you. I wanted to remind you of your schedule in case you were heading straight to a site this morning.”

“No. No, I’m coming in. But remind away.” He raised one eyelid to glance at the clock—8:30 a.m. Yes, he’d most definitely missed Monday by a mile.

“Here we go,” Jane said, just as she always did before running through his appointments. “You’ve got a preliminary consult with Jean-Paul D’Ozeville at ten this morning. Lunch with Peter Anton of Anton/Bliss Developers at twelve, a conference call at three about the lecture in Vancouver, and then the benefit dinner with Tessa Smith at seven.”

“The what?”

“The fund-raiser for the Aspen Music Foundation. You bought tickets weeks ago. I believe Ms. Smith wanted to meet Sting.”

Quinn thought he could detect a sardonic hint in her words, which would have surprised him if he hadn’t been busy reeling over the shock she’d just delivered.

“Tessa and I broke it off last week.”

“Well, she called yesterday to be sure you hadn’t forgotten.”

“Uh…right.” He vaguely remembered Tessa’s shouted assertion that she was not going to let him back out of such an important event.

“And,” Jane continued, “she went to dinner with you on Friday?”

“Yeah. Apparently I forgot to cancel that, too.”

His office manager cleared her throat. “I don’t see any more dates on your schedule. As long as you don’t accidentally agree to any other shared meals, this should be your last evening with Ms. Smith.”

“Good. I’m not—Jane, are you laughing at me?”

“Certainly not, Mr. Jennings. If there’s nothing else I can do for you, I’ll see you in a few minutes.” The line clicked dead, confirming his suspicion that she was, indeed, laughing at him. As he deserved. What kind of man found himself on not one, but
two
accidental dates?

Of course, Tessa was defined by her persistence. Quinn wasn’t normally apt to notice when women flirted with him, but women like Tessa didn’t wait for a man to notice, they simply assumed their place. So it was that one evening Quinn had looked up and found he was dating a big-breasted blonde who wore frighteningly tall heels. His developer friends had been impressed. Quinn had simply been too apathetic to break it off until Tessa had gotten clingy. Then it had been an easy decision.

Speaking of easy decisions…

Quinn dialed information, got connected to Love’s Garage, and then wiped the sweat off his brow while he waited.

“Love’s Garage,” a very feminine, very
grumpy
voice answered. Not good.

“Lori, it’s Quinn. Don’t hang up. I am so sorry I didn’t call yesterday. I—”

“Forgot?” she asked sharply.

Lying would be wrong. Really wrong. “I wouldn’t say
forgot,
exactly…”

“It’s no problem, Quinn. It gave me time to think.”

Not good at all. He wanted sex with Lori Love. It was slipping from his grasp, making him realize just how
much
he wanted sex with her. Time for brutal honesty. “You’re right. I did forget. I’ve been working on this difficult site, and…Okay, you don’t want to hear that. I’m so sorry. I know it’s insulting and degrading and…” He tried to think of a few more choice adjectives that had been applied to his forgetfulness in the past.

“It’s fine, Quinn. I’m not mad.”

He would
not
let this slip away from him on a wave of polite distance. “Of course you’re mad,” he pressed.

“Nope.”

“Then why do you sound so strange?”

“Because I’m on my back under a car?”

“Oh. Seriously?”

“Yes.” Her voice dropped. “But it’s nice and private under here.”

Quinn turned that odd comment over in his head for a moment. Was it possible she really wasn’t angry? Or was false relief making him stupid? Still…“And you need privacy because…?”

Her long pause stretched through the distance between them, tightening their connection like a wire about to snap. She’d had time to think, and surely that was a bad thing. Planning and forethought couldn’t be the quickest route to a red-hot affair. But maybe…

“Does your offer still stand?” she blurted out in a near whisper.

Quinn’s heart turned over so quickly he felt dizzy. “Yes,” he answered with a casualness he didn’t feel.

“Because I think maybe it’s a good idea. If you still do.”

Strangely, he thought of her stretched out under that car, her feet and ankles vulnerable, available to him. He could stroke his hand down the instep of her small foot, kiss her painted toes, curl his fingers around her delicate ankle, smooth his palm up the inside of her rising calf. In his fantasy world, she only wore boots and thick denim when he wanted her to. Today, she was barefoot, wearing a little flowered skirt as she labored beneath chrome and steel. Her—

“Quinn?” she breathed into the phone.

“Yes, I still think it’s a good idea.”

Her relieved sigh made him smile.

“So,” he ventured, “should I just stop by tonight to service you?”

A wheeze burst over the phone line, followed quickly by the clang of something heavy and metallic. Quinn grinned at the Mexican Food sign on the building in front of him.

“Oh,” Lori squeaked just before she coughed. “Oh, I guess. That would, um…Tonight?”

“I’m teasing you, Lori.”

“Oh, thank God. Jesus, Quinn. That was cruel.”

“Sorry.” Not that he was sorry at all. “I was actually thinking maybe we should go to dinner. Unless you’d prefer I just come over and drop my pants. I’ve got an hour free before lunch.”

“Quinn.” Lori’s voice had dropped to a tone he suspected she used with her employees.

“All right. Dinner first. Unfortunately, I’ve got a previous obligation tonight. What do you think? Tomorrow?”

“That soon?”

“Yes.” He left it at that. No point letting her mull over her decision any longer. And, frankly, he couldn’t wait.

“Okay.” The little squeak was back in her voice, making him smile. It thrilled him that she was nervous, that he wasn’t just some old friend who’d climb into her bed and make her feel comfortable and safe. He wanted her tense and excited. “What time?” she asked.

Quinn didn’t bother trying to think of his schedule. It had never once cemented itself into his head and never would. “Six-thirty.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you at your office.”

“No, why don’t I—”

“Listen, Quinn. I’m not interested in sitting here in my living room in a dress and heels for hours, waiting for you to remember our plans. I will meet you at your office.”

“Oh. I see. All right.”

She hung up with no added pleasantries, leaving Quinn staring at the restaurant sign for a few stunned seconds. “No chance am I forgetting this date,” he said to no one at all. “I’ll be there with bells on.”

He was still wondering what the heck that phrase meant when he pulled up to his office two minutes later. One more date with Tessa, and then he’d be Lori Love’s meaningless fling, hopefully for a good long while.

“Fat chance,” Lori muttered, but she was smiling when she opened the door of the tiny Main Street office. “Hi, Helen!” she called to the tall blonde at the back of the room.

Helen Stowe looked up from pouring coffee, her big hair bouncing with the movement. “Hey, Lori! What can I do for you this morning?”

“Oh, I just had a couple of questions. How are you doing? I thought you were going to meet me and Molly at The Bar last week.”

Helen shrugged as she took a seat at her desk and waved Lori over to the chair that faced it. “You know. I just got busy.”

“We’re dropping by on Friday. Why don’t you come along?”

“Oh.” Helen’s heavily mascara’d lashes fluttered. “I don’t…I would, but…If…”

“Helen.” Lori sighed. “Did you break it off with Juan?” Juan was the manager and bartender of The Bar. He was also ten years younger than the newly divorced Helen.

“No,” she whispered, the quiet word trembling in the air. “He…” One fat tear escaped her lashes and tracked an ashy line down her cheek.

“Oh, Helen.”

“He said he was tired of hiding our relationship!” Helen gasped. “He said I was ashamed of him, but I’m not! It’s just…” That one tear was just the first of many, and Lori’s stomach sank.

“I’m so sorry, Helen.”

“It’s my own fault,” she said, as she yanked open a desk drawer and pulled out a box of Kleenex. “I never should have started dating him. He just doesn’t understand what it’s like to be a fortysomething woman dating a younger man.” She leaned forward, eyes a bit wild. “Do you know they have a
word
for it now? They call women like me ‘cougars’!”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that.”

“It’s mortifying!”

“Well, it’s kind of trendy, actually.”

“Trendy?” Helen screeched. “Do you know what Juan’s mama would say if she found out? She’s been after him to start making babies for years! If he brought home some dried-up old floozy like me, she’d probably call the priest over to perform an exorcism!”

“Helen,” Lori said softly.

Helen blew her nose and hiccupped.

“Do you like Juan?”

Her face crumpled again, and Lori had her answer.

“If you really like him, don’t you think you should give it a chance? Give
him
a chance?”

Though her tears continued to flow, Helen shook her head. “My husband left me, Lori. He left me after twenty years of marriage. I can’t go through that again, and you can damn well bet your ass that Juan would leave in a few years. Hell, I’m about to enter menopause. He probably doesn’t even know what that word
means.
”

Lori sighed. “He’s a nice guy.”

Helen straightened her spine and took a deep breath, setting her impressive cleavage quivering. “Yes, he is. That’s why I’m not going to tie him down to an old biddy like me.”

Though she didn’t usually think of old biddies as buxom women who wore stiletto heels and shirts cut down to there, Lori gave in and nodded. Juan’s mother probably wouldn’t approve of the heels and cleavage, either. Having grown up in Mexico, she likely had some pretty conservative ideas about women, at least with regards to her youngest son.

“Now, I’m going to go freshen up,” Helen announced, “and when I come back, we will discuss your real estate needs.”

Wow, that sounded official. Lori looked obligingly over the photos of available properties until Helen returned, pink nose powdered and eyelashes freshly coated in mascara. “Now, what can I do for you, Lori Love?”

“I’m afraid I’m not looking to buy anything, but I did have a question about my dad’s property.”

“Yeah?”

“Chris Tipton’s been in touch a few times about buying the land and some guy I’d never heard of called on Monday. Has anyone else contacted you?”

“Oh, sure. I’m sorry, you said you weren’t interested in talking about it, so I didn’t call you.”

“It’s okay, honestly. I’m not interested, but I am wondering what all the fuss is about. Who else has asked about it?”

“Hold on.” Helen spun her chair to a tall filing cabinet and riffled through until she found a thin file and pulled it out. “Here we go. Someone from a company called Anton/Bliss Developers called last month, and there was a call from The Valiant Group in the spring. Other than that…I see I noted somebody called to ask about the land last week, but didn’t leave any information. The other two left numbers and asked me to contact them if you ever showed any interest in selling. Should I call them?”

“No,” Lori said quickly. “But will you give me their names and numbers?”

“You’re not going to try to do this on your own, are you? Because, honestly, these are some big companies, and whether you use my agency or not, I’d recommend consulting an attorney and—”

“I’m honestly not looking to sell right now. But I’m beginning to wonder if I’m sitting on oil or something. Have you heard anything?”

Helen shrugged. “Not a thing. I’ll keep my ears open, but it’s a beautiful spot and there’s a lot of rich folks around here.”

“Yeah.” Still…her dad had bought the land for less than seventy thousand dollars. It had been just as beautiful then, and there had been just as many Aspen people around.

Helen offered her a paper with the information.

“Thanks. If I ever do decide to sell, I need to know just how much it’s worth to these people.”

“Why
don’t
you sell it, Lori? Your dad’s gone now and, correct me if I’m wrong, but you were never interested in running the garage, were you?”

“I just…” Not wanting to think about her dreams and her fears and her money problems, Lori shook her head. “It’s complicated.”

“All right.” Helen patted her hand, her smile conveying sympathy and maybe a little pity, too. Great. “I’ll call you if anything else comes up. Let me know what you find out.”

“Deal. And think some more about Juan, will you?”

Helen just glared, but Lori didn’t let that get her down as she left and hurried back toward the garage. She had
something
now, a clue. Maybe it had nothing to do with ten years ago, but it was still a mystery that needed to be solved.

A mystery
and
a fling. She almost had a real life for the moment.