Quinn (The Waite Family) (11 page)

This time, when he collapsed, he had just enough strength to roll off her and cover them up. His last thought before exhausted sleep took him was that Quinn was everything a man could want in a lover.

~~~

Quinn came awake slowly. She stretched a little but was sore; muscles protested even as they felt weighted and relaxed.
She started to roll over to the other side of the bed, but there was something in the way. Opening her eyes, she saw a shoulder, a very large shoulder.

“Please be Jazzie. Please be Jazzie,” she whispered to herself as she reached out to touch it.

The low, very masculine groan made her jerk her hand back. When the arm at her waist tightened and pulled her close Quinn noticed that she was naked. And he was naked.

Naked in bed with…she just knew it wasn’t going to be good.
And when he rolled over, eyes still closed, Quinn did the only thing she knew how to do when she was upset. She got mad.

“What do you think you’re doing here? Get up.” When he didn’t move, she smacked him on his back. “Drew…Mr. Miller, I asked you a question. Get up, I sa—oof.”

He rolled over on top of her and put her hands above her head with his fingers laced with hers.
She watched his mouth as it lowered to hers.
So close, so very close.
Scared of what they had done, what they might do again, she let her mouth get ahead of her.

“Did you rape me?”

She knew the moment it left her mouth it wasn’t true.
Drew jerked back as though she’d slapped him. Fury glittered in his eyes, all traces of sleep gone.
Then he rolled off her and got up in what seemed to be one continuous movement.
He grabbed up his clothes off the chair and went into her bathroom. The slamming of the door made her flinch.

Quinn wasn’t sure what to do. She wasn’t even sure what had happened between them. Well, she did know, she supposed, but wasn’t ready to remember it yet.
She tried to remember what had put them in the bed together when Drew came out and sat in the chair and began putting his shoes on.

“Mr. Mil—”

“Quinn…Miss Waite, if you value your life at all you’ll not say a word. Not now, maybe not ever.”
He stood and stared down at her. “Believe it or not, I don’t need to rape women for a simple fuck.” He turned on his heel and left.

What had she done? Jumping up, she grabbed her robe and went after him.
She wasn’t sure what she was going to say when she caught up with him, but it was a moot point.
As soon as she rounded the stairs to go down she heard the door slam.

Quinn stared at the door for a moment, the tears she hadn’t been aware were falling blurred her vision. She dropped to the floor and started sobbing.
That was how Jazzie found her.

“Come on, let’s get you some coffee.”
Jazzie half-dragged, half-led her to the kitchen.
“It’ll look better after some hot coffee. Maybe. I don’t know why people say that, it’s not the least bit true. I prefer tea.”

“I don’t know what happened.” Quinn looked down at her full cup as she continued.
“He was…we were…I don’t know.”

Jazzie set a plate of donuts between them, a Saturday morning tradition since moving into this house together. Then a cup of hot tea.
Jazzie sat down across from her and took a fat, greasy donut and bit into it before speaking.

“Yeah, I wondered how he’d react to you all over him like that. Men usually like to have some say in sex.” Quinn looked up at her sister.
“You didn’t exactly give him time to make any kind of decisions, you know.”

“What do you mean? He started it.” A terrible memory danced before her eyes. “Didn’t he?”

Jazzie laughed. “Hardly. He came in the door practically spitting he was so pissed that you’d hung up on him, he said. Then you leaned in and took a hunk out of his neck. That shut him right up.
Then you pushed him against the wall like he was an all day sucker and you had a major sweet tooth.” She took another bite before continuing. “Of course, I’d like a sucker like that to make me scream four times in less than two hours.”

Snatches of that were coming back with nightmarish clarity.
The stairs, Drew trying to get her to slow down, to savor. Her trying to ride him and him taking her into his mouth.

“Ohnoohnoohno. What have I done?” Quinn had accused him of raping her when it had been her. “I was drunk and I have wanted him for so long.”

Jazzie laughed again. “Well, you certainly had him. So what was he slamming out of here about?
You wouldn’t give it to him again?
I’d sure give it to him as much as he wanted.”

Quinn couldn’t think. She’d hurt him. And not only that, she’d raped him. She had to fix this and now.
She stood up to call him to beg him to forgive her when she realized something else.
Alyssa was going to kill her.

By Sunday afternoon Drew had written and deleted his resignation a dozen times. He’d picked up the phone to quit at least that many more times as well. He’d dial a couple of numbers or pull Alyssa’s number up on his cell phone and stop.
Alyssa had nothing to do with this. He’d tell her himself. He even thought about calling Cain. But how did a man tell another that he’d just had the most incredible sex of his life with his sister and she thought he’d raped her?

Drew looked at his watch and groaned. Dinner with his grandda was in an hour. He couldn’t miss it. They’d been having dinner together on Sunday nights since before his grandma had passed. But he knew if he went over there in his current condition his grandda would see right away something was wrong.

He went to the kitchen to try and think how he could get out of it when his cell phone rang.
It was Alyssa.
He so didn’t want to talk to her just yet.
But he also figured if he didn’t then she’d just come over.

“There’s a problem at the office. Someone just tried to break in. The police are there now.
I’m going over.”

Drew closed his eyes.
“I’ll go, you stay home with Cain. I can meet with them—”

“I said I’d go.” She sounded stressed.
“Drew, I’m going down now with Cain.
Stay away from the building until Monday or I’ll…I’ll fire your ass.
The only reason I called is in the event you hear something on the news.
All right?”

“Yeah, sure.
But if you need me, I’ll be at my grandda’s.
Call me and I can be there in a matter of minutes.”

She assured him she’d be fine and then hung up. He was at his grandda’s when he remembered that she was going to have dinner with Cain’s family tonight too. He wondered if Quinn would say anything.

His grandda, Thomas Miller, worked for the Howards until Nathan Howard, Alyssa’s dad, had passed away. The men had been great friends and probably would have remained so had Nathan not had a heart attack and died.
Now, Thomas worked for Alyssa. Some days, Drew thought that his grandda loved her more than him.

“Millie is making my favorite for dinner.
Chicken pot pie and baked cherry crunch for dessert.
I hope you’re hungry.”
Drew was handed a short glass of amber liquid before Grandda continued.
“If you hadn’t come over I would have had to eat the entire thing by myself.”

“You’re too skinny anyway.”
Drew took a sip of the smooth bourbon. He was so lost in his thoughts he nearly missed his grandda laughing. “What on earth do you think is that funny, old man” Drew asked him with a smile.
“You making fun of your favorite grandson?”

“You’re my only grandson.
You tell her you love her yet?”
This was one of the reasons he both loved and hated his grandda so much.
He was much too astute and blunt.

“Who?
You know something I don’t?
The only woman I tell I love is the one that I’m currently bopping.
Not doing much of that right now.”
And probably wouldn’t for a while yet either, he thought.

“Young people have no respect now days.”
That statement was said with so much venom it made Drew laugh harder.
“I’m talking about that young girl that nearly goes cross-eyed when you enter the room. The boss’s sister-in-law.”

That shut him up quickly.
He knew it was probably too late to play like he didn’t know what he was talking about, but he had to try.
He looked at the man with as much disinterest as he could fake. “Which one? The girl from accounting? She’s not really my type, but if what you say is right then—”

“Damn it, Andrew, you know damn good and well I mean Quinn Waite.
That girl has it bad for you and you know it. What are you going to do about it?”

Drew got up, refilled his glass, and downed the entire thing.
He had his back to his grandda thinking it would be easier to say what he needed to without looking at him.
He hated to lie more than anything, especially to his man.

“Quinn…Miss Waite and I have come to an understanding. We’ve decided that it just wouldn’t work out for us.
She will stay out of my way and I’ll stay away from her.
And if you want me to stay for dinner then you won’t say another word about it.”

He heard his grandda snort, but he didn’t say anything.
After several minutes Millie came into the room to announce dinner.
They were seated at the table before Drew trusted himself to speak.

“There was a break-in at the Howard building just before I came over here. Alyssa wouldn’t let me handle it for her.
She and Cain were on their way over when she called me.
Did you hear anything about it on the news?”

Drew didn’t think he was going to answer and was sorry for that. Drew loved his grandda a great deal and didn’t want to have him upset with him.
When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and a little brittle.
Drew wanted to sob.

“I did. Someone had broken one of the larger windows on the second floor. Not too much damage. The police seem to think it was children playing where they shouldn’t have been.”
Millie served the pot pie before he continued.
“I don’t think so. That second floor window is fairly high and they would have had to have a strong arm to throw something that far up.”

Drew thought he might be right.
“Did they mention how the glass was broken?
I mean, aren’t those window panes almost ten feet wide and at least that tall?”

He grunted with his mouth full of the succulent chicken and broth.
Drew took his own bite and closed his eyes in ecstasy.
The potatoes and carrots were perfectly done and the chicken was as tender and as juicy as anything he’d ever eaten.
The white gravy was thick and hot and just spicy enough that he could taste the bits of herbs used to make it.
The crust was so flaky it was like eating slivers of crusty bread dipped in the broth.
It was several minutes before either of them even bothered with the homemade bread sliced and steaming sitting in the middle of the table or even looked at the salad that was supposed to accompany the pie.

“Damn, this is the best dinner.
I wonder if there’s a recipe, or do you think that she has been making it for so long that she knows it by heart?” Grandda took another bite full before going on.
“I tell you, son, I could make a mint off this stuff and once she throws in her homemade bread…well, there won’t be a plate in the world without at least one or the other on it.”