In Too Deep (6 page)

“Okay.” She recognized a brush-off when she heard one and was surprisingly hurt by it.

“And show Will around,” he added, already heading for the door. “Patrick is going to come with me to see what
needs to be done with the submersible. Max, I could use your help, too.”

She watched him go and, after the door closed behind him, Max and Patrick, she met Will's gaze. He was older than she had first thought—closer to thirty than twenty. “Did Quinn have anything specific he wanted you to do?”

“Not yet. He said I'd just be helping out wherever you needed.” Will's glance fell to the cup of coffee in Lily's hands. “I wouldn't mind one of those.”

“Help yourself.” She pointed toward the alcove. The phone rang and she went to her desk to answer it. Katrina Ericksen was on the other end of the line, thrilled that Lily had agreed to stay in their house. Lily's gaze tracked Will as he crossed the room, then sat next to her desk, openly listening to her conversation.

“I'm sure glad to have this job,” Will said after she ended the call. “Starving to death in the Alaskan north wasn't my idea of fun.”

“The Alaskan north is a long way from here.” Despite his assertion, he didn't have the look of someone down on their luck, from his trendy hairstyle to his designer jeans. Nor did he seem to realize this part of Alaska was a temperate rain-forest where subzero temperatures and polar bears were rare. “What brought you here?” she asked.

“I came for the summer, and decided to see if I could make a go of it instead of going back home.”

The story was common enough, but he didn't look much like the guys who came to Alaska for adventure even though some of those guys also had pierced ears and wore too much cologne.

“Where's home?” she asked.

“Anaheim,” he said. “You're not from around here, either. The chicks here are all into jeans.”

She glanced down at her slacks, formal for Lynx Point though her choice in clothes would have been too casual for her old job. “I am, actually. I've just moved back.”

Deciding to ignore his comment about chicks, at least for
the moment, she went through the areas of study currently underway with the vent site. Will picked up on things quick enough, but as they worked through the morning, she was never quite sure if he really knew what she was talking about or if he was simply clever enough to piece things together. He asked a lot of Chemistry 101 questions, which quickly wore thin.

“You're not going to be doing experiments,” she said to him.

“I know.” He gave her a smile that fell short of being reassuring. “I'm just curious about all this stuff, you know?”

Shortly before lunch she left Will alone in the lab to do some basic slide preparation for spore samples. A simple enough task that would give her some indication about how well he thought things through on his own and whether he really had worked in a lab before.

Despite Quinn's promise to talk later, he wasn't available. When she caught up with him midafternoon, he and Max were busy with the submersible, which had been hauled into the workshop. She found herself watching Quinn like a teenage girl with a hormone overload. The workshop was warm enough that he had taken off his vest and long-sleeved shirt. The physique revealed by that white T-shirt was undeniably masculine, and the ripple of muscle as he moved made her mouth go dry and her palms go wet. When he looked up and caught her staring at him, she felt her cheeks burn.

He glanced at his watch, then back at her. “The time got away from me. I'm going to be a while yet.”

“It's okay,” she said. “I'll talk to you later.”

She fled back to the lab and the mundane task of supervising Will, who was more interested in the Friday night plans he'd made with Patrick than in his work.

Lily kept thinking how wonderful being held against Quinn's impressive chest had felt, how gentle he had been. No matter what task she did for the rest of the afternoon, her thoughts were consumed with Quinn. As a scientist, she admired his intelligence and dedication. She liked his gentle
ness and his humor. And as a woman…she was totally smitten by his physique. Until today she hadn't known that she loved muscles.

At the end of the day, Lily came out the front door of the research station as Quinn was getting into his car. He looked preoccupied and worried. His SUV headed down the road as Lily zipped up her jacket, wondering if she would ever get reacclimated to the chill and the humidity. Quinn stopped before his vehicle reached the first turn down the hill. She knew that he was watching her approach through the rearview mirror.

Awareness zinged through her, bringing to life all those fluttery feelings of anticipation that made her feel young and feminine and more alive than she'd been in a long time.

“Busy day,” he said when she stopped next to the passenger door, its window rolled down. Her glanced at her, then focused on the misty sky. “How's Will working out?”

“He acts like he's in beginning chemistry,” she said, “but he takes direction well enough.”

“Good. That's good.” Quinn tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, then looked at her. “Need a ride?”

“As a matter of fact…” she returned, climbing into the car before he could change his mind. “How are you feeling? Does your head still hurt?”

He brushed a hand against the bandage at his hairline—a smaller one than he'd had when he'd left her house this morning. “It's fine.”

“And Patrick and the submersible. How did things go there?” she asked the way an adult was supposed to. All the while, her heart pounded, which was stupid.

“Fine.”

Fine.
The one-word response that didn't say anything and effectively put a stop to any further conversation.
Fine.
“Why do you say ‘fine' like that?”

Quinn glanced at her, the question echoing in his head. No accusation, just curiosity. He'd spent the day avoiding her,
avoiding what she made him feel and… “Because I don't want to talk, okay?”

“Fine,” she returned, mimicking his tone of voice. “You can take me to Hilda's. Annmarie is there today.”

“Okay.” He drove down the hill, the tall pines casting shadows across the road. As happened every time he was with her, he was conscious of everything about her. The scent of her perfume—something soft and clean. The way she fingered the strap on her bag. The faint spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose. The mark he'd left on her neck, branding her. That thought made him instantly erect. Insistent as lust was, he reminded himself the right thing to do here was to not get involved. That didn't keep him from imagining her naked, his aching flesh buried in her.

He realized he'd lost track of the conversation when she said, “She told me that she had talked to you about babies. She can be a little overwhelming when she gets an idea in her head.”

Her daughter—Lily was talking about her daughter. He cleared his throat. “Annmarie is great.” The little girl's conversations left him confused, but he liked her.

“About this morning…”

Oh, man. He didn't want to talk about that.

She looked away, toyed with a lock of hair at her nape, then said, “I've never had a morning after before today, though technically I know that requires sex.”

This morning had been better by far than any sex he'd had in a long time. And that scared him to death. Too easily he imagined a life with her—not just sex, but everything. He felt her glance at him, though he didn't dare look at her.

“We have to work together,” she added. “So…”

He parked the car in front of the clinic and stared through the windshield. This was where he got to choose, he realized, between having this woman that he liked as a friend or having this woman he desired as a lover. She deserved more than the casual sex he could offer her, and much as he'd like that—it would make being friends impossible.

Finally he looked at her. The hope and invitation in her eyes made him wish he deserved them. “Things will work out a hell of a lot better, Lily, if we forget this morning ever happened. That's a position I should have never put you in, and I can't tell you how sorry I am.”

“I'm not,” she whispered.

“You should be,” he said. “You should expect better for yourself.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You're a nice woman, Lily, who has a lot to offer a man. Just so we're clear. I'm not that guy. I'll never be that guy.”

“I haven't asked you for anything,” she said stiffly. “Especially not a commitment.”

“You deserve one, damn it.” That came out more harsh than he intended.

Her eyes shimmered and she turned her head away. “Why aren't you that guy?” The question was filled with such anguish he felt like a heel all over again.

“Jeez, Lily—”

“Why?” she repeated, looking at him.

He felt stripped naked, but she deserved the truth. “I've done the marriage thing, complete with kids, and I'm rotten at it.”

“You have kids?”

He shook his head. “They were hers.”

“How old were—”

“This isn't the time to exchange touching life stories,” he said, pushing away those memories. “I'm trying to make a point here.”

She lifted her chin. “Don't let me stop you.”

“The point is, I know what works for me, and it's not long-term relationships.” He stared through the windshield, knowing this conversation hurt her. Better now than later after they got involved in something they were both bound to regret. “I like you, Lily, and I don't want you to be hoping for things that just won't happen.” Finally he looked at her.

“So you're warning me off.”

He nodded. “I'm doing my best.”

She held his gaze a long, long time. To keep from touching her, to keep from cupping her cheek and catching that single tear that slid down her face and sliced him open, he wrapped his hands tightly around the steering wheel. This was better, he reminded himself, though it felt like hell. Not once in his entire life had he been this attracted this quick. Attracted…an utterly tame word for what he felt.

She looked away, her eyes wide as though she was surprised to see they were parked in front of the clinic.

As she opened the car door he touched her arm. “We work together, Lily. On that level I want things to be okay.”

She nodded and said, “They're fine.”

He recognized that for the same lie he'd told her.

“Y
ou look like you lost your last friend.” Mama Sarah's eyes were bright behind the thick lenses of her glasses as she let Lily into the apartment that she shared with Hilda.

As usual, it was noisy—the television, the chatter of kids, and from one of the bedrooms the loud music from some rock band. Chaos that Lily found oddly comforting though it would drive her crazy if she had to live in it.

She put her arms around the older woman, who hugged her hard in return. As they had been since she was seven or eight years old, Mama Sarah's hugs were nearly as comforting as her own mother's. Unlike her mother, Mama Sarah wouldn't push to know what was wrong. Lily gave her a last squeeze, then stepped away.

“Hi, Mom,” Annmarie called from one corner of the living room where she and Thad were bent over a project. “Guess what? Mama Sarah is helping Thad and me make a crystal garden.” She grinned. “I got to pour on the food coloring—I made purple.”

“Cool.” Already, the crystals were growing in a brilliant
rainbow of color on the charcoal briquettes that rested in the bottom of a cut-down plastic milk bottle.

“We got to bake cookies, too,” said Annmarie.

“Chocolate chip,” Mama Sarah said when Lily glanced her direction. “Your sister showed up about an hour ago and she looked nearly as bad as you do.”

“Guess I'd better go see what's going on.” Lily took off her jacket and brushed a hand over her daughter's head as she passed by. As much as she had been dreading her talk with Rosie, she also wanted to get it over with. She found her best friend and her sister in the back room where they often hung out.

The back room was Hilda's sanctuary from her responsibilities as the town marshal, the island's only health care provider, and mother of four. The scent of tea and chocolate-chip cookies wafted from the room.

“Hey, you,” Hilda said from where she sat cross-legged on the floor.

Rosie stood at the window. The Friday afternoon basketball game played on the dock next to the warehouse was visible in the distance. Lily recognized her brother-in-law's tall form.

“I saw Katrina Ericksen when I was on my way in.” Rosie turned away from the window, her arms folded across her chest.

“Oh, Rosie—”

“It would have been nice to hear from you that you were planning on moving out.”

“Not moving out,” Lily hedged. “House-sitting.”

“Moving out,” Rosie stated, shrugging beyond Lily's reach. “Katrina says they'll be in Seattle most of the winter—at least until after Christmas if she can convince Mike to stay.”

“Maybe I should go get another cup for the tea,” Hilda said, standing in a fluid move.

“Stay,” Rosie commanded that same moment Lily implored. “Don't go.”

Hilda raised her hands in surrender. “Fine. But I'm not playing referee.”

Wishing she had Dahlia's knack for making peace, Lily joined Rosie at the window. As children, they'd experienced very little of the sibling rivalry that they'd seen in others or that Rosie had experienced with Dahlia. Maybe that's why their rare arguments always felt so awful, Lily thought. She felt as out of her depth with this as she had with Quinn.

As though she had somehow conjured him, she watched him get out of his SUV and saunter toward the other basketball players, shedding his jacket on the way, and joining the game.

Fighting the urge to weep as she had most of the day, Lily looked over at her sister who was watching the game. Rosie fidgeted, twisting her wedding ring. Lily found herself equally antsy. She searched for the right words to make up. None came, which made her steal another glance at Rosie, who looked at her at the same moment. They both burst into tears, then wrapped their arms around each other.

“I'm sorry,” Lily said through a sob. “I
do
think you're good for Annmarie.”

At the same time Rosie was saying, “I was being stupid and spiteful and I didn't mean it. You deserve to be happy. I don't know why I was such a witch this morning.” Rosie met Lily's glance, and they both grinned.

“Hormones,” they both said at the same time, then laughed.

“Oh, what a pair we are,” Rosie said, wiping her eyes. “Mom would have made us sit down right then—remember?” She put a hand on her hip and leaned forward slightly in imitation of their mother's “You've got to settle this, girls” posture, and said, “‘Make up, ladies, or I'll do it for you.'”

“I think you got that more than I did.” Lily pulled a tissue out of her pocket and wiped her nose.

“Yeah, thanks to Dahlia.” Rosie sat on the floor and picked up her cup of tea. “She called this morning and says
hi, by the way. She wants to know why you haven't sent any videos.”

“I've been working on one for her.” Lily didn't realize Hilda had left until she appeared in the doorway with another cup in hand.

“Oh, good, you've made up,” she said. “Thank God. I thought I might have to go find two other new best friends.”

Rosie threw a pillow at her. “Like anyone else would put up with you.”

Lily sat on the floor, and gratefully took the cup of tea that Hilda had poured for her. Sweet and heavy with milk, the way she liked it. She closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the day slide away. This was the way it always had been among the three of them. The best of friends no matter what the world threw their way.

She felt something land in her lap and, when she opened her eyes, discovered a wrapped piece of chocolate.

“Was he good?” Hilda asked, watching her and unwrapping her own chocolate, then settling more comfortably on one of the oversize pillows scattered across the floor. “Since you've got a hickey to show for it—”

“A little privacy, please.” Lily clapped her hand against the telltale mark on her neck.

Hilda grinned. “This is big news, girl. No secrets here.”

Lily felt her cheeks flame, but didn't even try to pretend she didn't know what her friend was talking about.

“I know you won't believe me—but nothing happened.”

Hilda smiled. “Nothing? I don't care what you call it, you don't get that morning-after glow by sleeping alone.”

“The man slithered out of the house this morning, guilt painted all over him,” Rosie said.

Frustrated, Lily waved her hands toward the ceiling. “I give up. We had sex, okay? Wild, loud, passionate sex that you could have heard clear over to Foster Island.”

Hilda's eyes gleamed. “He was that good, huh.”

“Ask Rosie if you want salacious details. She's married
and
pregnant, so she's got more to talk about than I do.”
Most vivid in Lily's mind at the moment were the things Quinn had said as he'd dropped her off, not what happened before dawn this morning—not that either Hilda or Rosie would believe her.

“He's an okay-looking guy, I guess, but I never quite imagined him that way,” Hilda said.

“That's because you've always been too busy patching him up from one injury or another,” Rosie said. “Plus, he's too much the burly linebacker type.”

“He's not that big.” The memory of being in his arms too visceral to bear made Lily close her eyes for a moment.

“So what do you see in this guy?” Hilda asked.

Lily unwrapped the chocolate and put it into her mouth, letting the flavor coat her tongue while she thought about the question. As a scientist she had done her homework and had read his published papers. In the process of organizing the office, she had read his research notes and looked forward to meeting him. She had been predisposed to like him since she admired his work. That didn't explain her instant attraction to him. “Yesterday when I met him,” she finally said, “I just knew. When he held me…” Her throat clogged and she paused a second before continuing. “Oh, man, I'd forgotten how good it can be.”

When her voice trailed away, Hilda said, “Nothing happened, huh?”

Since they weren't going to believe her no matter what she said, Lily responded, “Not like you're thinking.” Her smile faded as she met Rosie's gaze. “He called himself a stray, even before you did.”

“I could do a background check,” Hilda offered. “You might be surprised at what turns up.”

Lily shook her head. “You say that like you're serious. No. I've read his work and his bio posted on the university Web site. I know what I need to know.”

“He lives alone,” Hilda said, ticking off a list on her fingers. “Has breakfast at the Tin Cup most mornings. He doesn't hang out at the Lodge, and he hasn't been dating
anybody local. At least twice a week I see him paddle over to Foster Island. It's no wonder the man has shoulders the size of a house.”

“It's a good thing you're not a gossip,” Lily said.

“Heard you're moving,” Hilda said with a grin.

“About that,” Rosie said. “You call Katrina back and tell her to find someone else.”

Lily met her sister's gaze, more certain now than she had been this morning that helping the Ericksens was the right thing to do. She shook her head. “I can't do that, Rosie. First, you and Ian are still newlyweds. Granted, it's been a long time, but I remember what that's like. If the two of you want to wander around stark naked and make love on the kitchen table, you should.” Lily's cheeks burned. She clamped a hand over her mouth. “I don't believe I said that.”

Hilda laughed. “Was that a confession? God, I hope so.” She looked Lily up and down, her smile remaining in place. “That's a side of you I never imagined.”

“And you can stop anytime.” Lily wasn't about to admit that the wildest she and John had ever been was the living room couch. “You're bad.”

“To the bone, not to mention deprived.” Hilda reached for another piece of chocolate.

Lily took a sip of her tea and tried to refocus. “Plus, Annmarie and I will be only next door, less than a quarter of a mile away from your house, Rosie. Annmarie can come over as much as you both want.”

In answer, Rosie squeezed her hand. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

 

Playing basketball when your head hurt was stupid, Quinn decided as he snagged a couple of beers from the six-packs he had brought along to share. He headed for the edge of the court next to the warehouse where Dwight Jones was toweling off his hair. Dwight had a rangy build that was well suited for basketball, and he was as competitive about winning as he was about everything else. That competitive streak
had made Dwight a regular at the Friday afternoon game. This particular day, Quinn has happy the man had shown up, true to form.

All day Quinn kept thinking about the conversation they'd had on the ferry the day before yesterday. He still couldn't decide if there had been a threat in anything Dwight had said. Threats, Quinn could handle. Overt action that could hurt somebody else…he wasn't going to stand for that. Not for a minute had he ever figured that Dwight would take the injunction filed against his employer personally. The stakes were simple, Quinn wanted the site around the deep sea vent kept as pristine as possible. If there was oil, Dwight Jones's employer wanted to drill. The injunction would at least buy some time.

“Good game,” Quinn said, handing Dwight one of the beers.

“Thanks.” He straightened and took the beer, pointing his bottle toward Quinn's in a salute before taking a long pull. “Your play stunk today.”

Quinn grinned. “Don't sugarcoat it. Tell me what you really think.”

“Playing basketball when you've got a concussion will rattle loose a few more of those brain cells of yours.”

“Probably.” Quinn took a long pull on his beer. Like playing basketball, the beer probably wasn't on the regimen of healthy things he should be doing.

“Depending on which version I want to believe, you were either nearly killed yesterday or you totaled somebody else's car with a body slam,” Dwight said. “You sure you didn't piss somebody off?”

Quinn met his gaze. “You mean, other than you?”

“Wrecking your car sounds a little more personal than filing an injunction.”

“Too bad it wasn't my car.” Quinn tipped the bottle against his lips and took a long swallow before adding, “So, you didn't take that personally? The injunction?”

“Hell, no.” Dwight's gaze narrowed. “You're not implying that I had anything to do with—”

“No, I'm not implying or accusing or anything else.” Quinn wrapped his hands around the beer bottle. “You're the second person I've talked to today who seems to think it might not have been an accident.”

“I don't know whether it was or not. I thought we were having the good ol' boy talk over a beer.” Dwight shrugged into a jacket. “And maybe you did shake loose a few brain cells if you think I had anything to do with it.”

“I never figured you for the defensive sort.”

“You've lost it. You need to go climb up some other tree, Morrison. Stay the hell out of mine,” Dwight said over his shoulder as he walked away.

“Well, hell,” Quinn muttered under his breath. That had been a total waste, especially as he had used about as much finesse as a Kodiak bear fishing for salmon.

“Still making friends and influencing people, I see.” Ian came around the corner of the warehouse, making no secret that he had been eavesdropping. “So, do you think he did it?”

Quinn shook his head. “No.” He spared Lily's brother-in-law a glance, deciding his being here for the game was no more coincidental than Quinn's own presence. “Despite what you just heard, we're friends, after a fashion.”

Ian buried his hands in the pocket of his jacket. “So, were you blowing smoke, or do you really think what happened with Lily's car was intentional?”

Quinn set down his beer and picked up his jacket. “You know Lily better than I do. Is she the type of person to lock her keys in the car?” He shrugged into his jacket, then leaned next to Ian against the wall of the warehouse.