His (30 page)

I close my eyes and take in her soft, sweet scent and the warmth of her against me. I never thought the ice that formed in my heart on 9/11 could be melted, but Quinn has changed everything.

After my father died, I started fighting because of the hate inside me. But I realize now that love is the only thing that’s really worth fighting for. Quinn broke down my walls, and I never want to put them back up.

Quinn

It’s Saturday, and Andrew’s not working. I hope this is the start of many two-day weekends for us. This morning, I woke to the brush of his short beard on my thighs beneath the sheets in our bed. After giving me two toe-curling orgasms from slow, sensual sex, he told me to get a quick shower because he had plans for the day.

We took Bethy to a local diner for breakfast and then shopped for furnishings for her bedroom and clothes for when she starts school next week. I was surprised Andrew endured three hours at Old Navy, but he was a champ. He wants Bethy to know he cares, and that means the world to me.

It’s been easy to adjust to this new life. I’m relaxed all the time now and happier than I’ve ever thought possible. When we get back home, Bethy and I take Midas for a walk and I feel light.

“I’m going to be the dumbest sophomore ever,” Bethy says softly. Midas is sniffing a bench on the sidewalk, and I stop walking and turn to my sister.

“You will not,” I say firmly. “The tutors Andrew hired will catch you up in no time.”

She gives me a nervous smile. “I’m mostly excited. I can’t believe this is our life now.”

We resume walking, and I put an arm around her shoulders. “I know. It’s pretty incredible. But I’m going back to school, too. I’m going to get a GED and then start college. I want to prove to myself I can do it and someday do some kind of work that matters. Don’t ever plan on finding a man to take care of you. In a good relationship, you take care of each other.”

Bethy looks over at me, wearing a somber expression. “I’ve never thanked you for what you did. You gave up everything . . .” Her eyes fill with tears. “Just to protect me.”

“
Just
?” I tighten my hold on her shoulders. “Protecting you was worth it. And we’re both stronger because of what we’ve been through. More compassionate, too. Never look down on others because you have more. It’s just opportunities and circumstances that divide the haves from the have-nots most of the time.”

“I want to be a doctor,” Bethy says softly. “Maybe work at a clinic for the homeless.”

“You’d be amazing at that,” I say as we climb the steps to the warehouse. I key in the code and we walk inside, where the savory scents of beef and spices greet us.

“Hey,” Andrew says, looking up from the kitchen island where he’s chopping something on a cutting board. “I’m making beef stew.”

“Yum.” I shed my coat, walk into the kitchen, and wrap my arms around his waist from behind. “Mmm, you’re warm.”

He turns and kisses my forehead. “We’ve got company for dinner.”

“Hi, Quinn,” Andrew’s mother says from the other side of the kitchen.

“Oh.” I unwrap myself from around Andrew and look at her warily. “Hi.”

She’s peeling apples in front of a kitchen counter, and she puts down the knife and turns to me with a slight smile. After our last encounter, I have a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach.

“I want to apologize to you,” she says, her eyes on mine. “I was rude and judgmental. When Andrew told me how you came to be in New York and what you’ve been through, I was ashamed of myself. I admire your strength and courage, Quinn, and I’d love a second chance.”

I’m taken aback. For a few seconds, I just look at her. Then I glance at Andrew and see hope in his bright blue eyes.

“Of course,” I finally manage, clearing my throat. “I’d like that.”

She nods and then introduces herself to Bethy. I’m floored when she wraps her arms around my sister in a hug.

I stand next to Andrew at the island, picking up the pile of carrot peelings and putting them in a bowl to throw away. He turns to me, and when I look up at him, he leans my way and kisses me softly on the lips.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

I stand on my tiptoes and lean up to kiss him again. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I see emotions swimming in his eyes. There’s affection, lust, and tenderness. I can tell just from his gaze that we’ll be going to sleep sweaty after incredible sex tonight.

I’ve gone from my lowest point to my highest in a matter of months. From feeling forlorn about the future to feeling hopeful about it. My Prince Charming isn’t always sweet, and he’s still learning how to love. But he’s mine, I’m his, and I wouldn’t change a thing.

One year later

Quinn

Andrew gives me a tight smile as the elevator begins its ascent. He’s squeezing my hand and tapping his polished black dress shoe on the elevator floor.

“We don’t have to do this,” I remind him.

“I’m good.” He doesn’t look at me when he says it, so I know he’s wound tight. And he’s
not
good.

His idea to go to the top of the Empire State Building surprised me. A couple weeks ago, he told me to put this on my schedule for tonight, and my heart had squeezed from the earnest look on his face.

“The . . . Empire State Building?” I’d said, my brows arched. “Really?”

“Yes.”

It wasn’t that Andrew never went onto the upper floors of tall buildings. He often had to for work meetings or to visit his mom’s place. But this was different. He’d chosen this place to face his fears. Being at the top of a building more than one thousand feet tall—and on the outside, no less—wasn’t something he’d done since before his father died.

“Did I tell you I finished writing that paper?” I ask him, hoping to distract him.

He looks down at me. “Yeah? I’d like to read it.”

“Of course. Your friend was a great resource for it.”

I’d interviewed one of Andrew’s former business partners from the Circle of Six. He was a counterterrorism expert who helped me understand the current political climate in the Middle East. And when he’d told me about losing his son on 9/11, I’d seen the same pain in his eyes I saw in Andrew’s when he spoke of his dad.

When Andrew withdrew from the Circle of Six eight months ago, he’d turned a corner in his grieving process. Killing terrorists had never brought him the peace he sought. Now he honored his father’s memory in a new way.

The David Wentworth Foundation funded a summer camp for children who’d lost a parent. We were overseeing construction of new cabins on a large piece of property upstate we’d bought for the camp. The massive main lodge would be done in time for the first group of campers this summer, and it included a suite for us.

The elevator slows and then stops. Our elevator attendant nods and we step out, Andrew keeping his hold on my hand. He called in a favor to get us an after-hours private trip up here, so we’re all alone.

It’s a brisk winter evening, and my breath clouds in front of my face as I take in the view and sigh.

“It’s spectacular,” I say.

Andrew looks out over his city silently. His eyes pool with emotion, and I bring his large hand up to my lips to kiss his knuckles.

“Thinking about my dad,” he says softly.

“He’d be proud of you right now.”

A small smile plays on his lips as he looks down at me. “He would’ve loved you.” His smile broadens. “You know what feels good?”

“What?”

“I’m not thinking about his death. I’m thinking about a story he told me one night when I couldn’t sleep.” His eyes dance with happiness. “I was six or seven at the time, I think.”

“What was it about?”

He looks from side to side, taking in the view of the skyline again. “It was about this place.” He turns back to me and brushes a thumb over my lips. “This is where he proposed to my mom.”

When he reaches into his pocket, my heart pounds wildly. As he gets down on one knee, I blink and feel hot tears on my cold cheeks.

“Andrew,” I whisper.

Tears shine in his eyes. “Quinn Bradley, I love you with all my heart. You made this controlling bastard into a lovesick puppy, and I couldn’t be happier about it. Will you marry me?”

I swipe a thumb across my cheeks and nod wildly. “Yes, Andrew, a thousand times
yes
.”

He stands and pulls me into his arms, swinging me around. I feel like my heart may burst from the joy of this moment.

When he sets me back on the ground, he slides a simple square solitaire in a platinum band onto my finger.

“My mother’s,” he says, his voice hoarse with emotion.

Gina Wentworth has become a mother to me in every way. Like Andrew, she’s pure gold beneath her hard façade.

“I’m honored to wear it,” I say, wiping away another round of tears. “It’s perfect.”

The elevator attendant is approaching with a glass of champagne in each hand. He passes them to us and then walks back over to the elevator to allow us privacy.

“You thought I was nervous about being up here,” Andrew says to me, “but I was more nervous about proposing.”

I lean in close, looking up at his dark-stubbled face. “How could you not know I would say yes?”

“You never know ’til the deal’s done,” he says with a boyish shrug. “And I wanted it to be perfect.”

“It was.”

“To us,” he says, clinking his glass lightly against mine.

“To us.” I sip the cold, bubbly champagne and admire the sparkling ring on my finger.

“You know, I thought I was saving you from a life on the streets,” Andrew says, smiling wryly and shaking his head, “but it was you who saved me.”

I shrug and smile at him. “I’m a modern-day Cinderella. I think we should take turns saving each other.”

Andrew kisses me gently. “We do.”

“And we will.”

“Forever.”

“You don’t mind if I wear my hunting knife underneath my wedding dress, do you?” I ask with a playful smile.

He cocks an amused brow. “We may need to discuss that.”

Read on for an excerpt from
Dirty Work
, Brenda’s first co-authored novel with Author Chelle Bliss. This steamy political romance releases July 26.

DIRTY WORK

Chapter 1

Jude

My eyes scan the crowd, taking in the masses as they cheer and hold signs supporting my run for Congress.

Five years ago, when I was honorably discharged from the Marines, I never would’ve dreamed this would be my future.

All the signs carried the same slogan:
Trust in Titan.
Knowing that the constituents in my home state of Illinois feel this way makes me proud. I spent ten years fighting in wars to defend our great nation and preserve her freedoms. When I was given the Medal of Honor after staving off the enemy to save my fellow brothers, I thought my life had been made.

Where else could I go from there? It’s the highest military decoration. I didn’t think I’d ever run for office.

I wave my hands to quiet the crowd assembled in the ballroom at the Drake Hotel in downtown Chicago. When their voices are only a whisper, I speak, “I’m here today to officially announce my run for Congress.”

The crowd comes back to life, louder than before. I don’t stop them, letting them cheer and scream my name because . . . Well, I deserve this moment.