When Lightning Strikes Twice (27 page)

“I’m trying not to have an anxiety attack about Snowy’s future,” she confessed.

“Somebody has to worry about the kids, it’s a vital family function.” He smiled into her eyes. “We’ll add Snowy to our merry band, Rachel. She already fits right in.”

Rachel cuddled closer, loving him for his insight, his understanding, his quiet support. Brady stirred in her lap, and Austin and Dustin returned to their seats, clutching giant-sized pretzels. She was so glad to be a member of their merry band.

After dinner they returned Dustin and Austin to Carla—Frank was not on the premises—then bathed Brady and tucked him into bed.

“Dare I say it? Alone at last.” Quint’s eyes gleamed. “Come here.” He caught Rachel’s hand and pulled her onto his lap.

She went to him willingly and lifted her face for his kiss. He cupped her chin and brushed his lips over hers, softly, lightly. It was a preliminary kiss, brief and undemanding,
but the gentle pressure of his lips and his warm breath against her mouth, sent desire rocketing through her.

He threaded his fingers through her hair as he slowly deepened their kiss. She felt his tongue in her mouth and she moaned a little and drew it in deeper. Her arms tightened around him, digging into the muscles of his back, and she twisted in his lap, parting her thighs slightly to welcome the throbbing burgeoning pressure of his arousal.

“I want you so much.” His voice was deep and thick, all urgency and need.

She made a soft, soughing sound and snuggled closer, cradling his face between her hands. She kissed him fervently, her ardor matching his, giving him the assent he’d been waiting for.

Quint rose to his feet, lifting her in his arms.

“Are you really going to carry me up the stairs?” she asked dreamily, nuzzling his neck. She felt a wild urge to suckle the skin there and thought of the love bite on her own neck. Now she understood his primal craving for putting it there and debated whether or not she should indulge her own impulses. Picturing Quint Cormack wearing a turtleneck on a warm May day to conceal a hickey struck her as hilarious, and she grinned.

“Don’t think I can do it?” Quint misinterpreted her source of amusement. He started toward the stairs. “You’re a mere featherweight, milady.”

“How gallant. Just like a medieval knight of yore.” Her smiled widened. “But if you should happen to feel your back muscles giving out, never mind the chivalry, just put me down.”

“Not a chance. I’m going to carry you to my bed where we—” He stopped in mid-sentence as the sound of the kitchen door slamming rocked the house.

Quint’s eyes met Rachel’s. “No.” He groaned. “It can’t be Sarah. Not now, not yet. She usually doesn’t get back till around midnight on her Sundays off.”

“Anybody here?” called Sarah.

Rachel squirmed, and Quint morosely set her on her feet.
They came face-to-face with Sarah in the living room.

“You’re back early.” Quint sounded accusing.

Sarah didn’t seem to notice. “I had to get away. I just couldn’t listen to Shawn for another minute. You should hear him, it’s enough to make you gag! My sisters and Matt are still trying to talk some sense into him, but it’s hopeless. I knew if I didn’t leave, I’d end up doing something awful—like maybe running over Shawn with your car, Quint. Honestly, I’m upset enough to do it!”

“I’m glad you restrained yourself,” Quint muttered. “The personal-injury suit would’ve been hellish, and I’m heartily sick of criminal charges, which have never interested me and still don’t.”

Rachel still felt weak and wobbly as her body tried to adjust to its abrupt sensual deprivation. She clutched the back of a chair for support and wished she was holding on to Quint instead. He dropped down onto the sofa and was staring at the carpet with fierce concentration, as if trying to memorize its weave.

“We threatened to tell Mom and Dad, and Shawn said he didn’t care!” exclaimed Sarah.

“Maybe he’s simply calling your bluff,” Quint suggested.

Rachel gave him full marks for displaying interest in whatever Sheely family altercation had so aggravated Sarah. She herself couldn’t even pretend to care.

“Maybe he is.” Sarah manically paced back and forth. “We hate to rile the folks—we all remembered how upset Mom and Dad were when Tricia went out with that defrocked priest. But this—this is about ninety times worse! Even Tricia is shocked. Quint, what are we going to do?”

“I think I’d better go home,” Rachel spoke up, and Sarah glanced at her, startled, as if only now aware of her presence. “I—have some things to do and you two obviously need to talk.”

“Oh God, I just busted in here and messed things up for you two, didn’t I?” Sarah was remorseful. “I’m so sorry! I can always—”

“I think you’d better stay and talk to Quint,” Rachel said kindly. “It’s all right, I—was just on my way home anyway.”

“I’ll walk you to your car.” Quint followed her to the front door, and they walked outside to her car, still parked in front of his house.

Rachel remembered the original purpose for her visit today and the questions she’d never gotten around to asking him. Now, with an agitated Sarah Sheely waiting inside, the timing seemed all wrong. She would call Aunt Eve and Wade when she got home; surely they would be available now.

“You’re very understanding,” Quint said, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

The tender intimacy of the gesture thrilled Rachel. She glowed with warmth, once again filled with that almost mystical feeling of closeness to him. And the humor of the situation suddenly tickled her.

“Look at it this way, Quint, a young man’s life is at stake.” She flashed a playful grin. “Unless Sarah calms down, she just might decide to hop in your car and run over her brother, after all.”

Quint heaved an exaggerated groan.

“You’re good at defusing family crises,” Rachel continued. She opened her car door, leaning up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before she slid behind the wheel. “I was glad to have you to listen to my woes about Laurel. Sarah needs you to do the same with Shawn.”

Quint touched his cheek on the spot Rachel had brushed with her lips. “Rachel, the last thing I want to do right now is to listen to Sarah rant on about her brother.”

“I know,” she whispered.

He wanted to make love to her. Never had she felt so positive about her own allure. Quint had given it to her, this sexual confidence, this security. Her desire for him was as exciting as his for her. Rachel drove home in a heady haze of contentment mingled with exhilaration.

There were no new messages on her answering machine.
She tried to call her aunt and her cousin but both were still unable to be reached. Her frustration grew, and contacting them became an almost-compulsive challenge. She called every fifteen minutes, but neither Aunt Eve nor Wade answered their phones.

At ten, she decided to give up and take a bath. She’d just stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in her thick white toweling robe when her doorbell sounded. Rachel’s ears perked. It was either Aunt Eve or Wade, finally responding to all those messages she’d left them, she was certain.

She hurried to the door, taking her usual safety precaution of leaving on the chain to steal a peek at her visitor waiting in the vestibule.

Her heart did a triple somersault in her chest. Standing outside her door was Quint Cormack.

“A
sk me in,” Quint ordered, even as Rachel was fumbling with the chain.

She opened the door and he stepped inside her apartment. They faced each other wordlessly. Rachel was the first to break the silence between them.

“I—just got out of the bathtub.” She felt an acute breathless shyness that metamorphosed into a pressing need to explain her robe, her humidified hair, her flushed damp skin.

“So I see.” His hungry dark eyes drank in the sight of her.

Rachel blushed and reflexively tightened the terry tie of her robe.

“Thank you for not asking why I’m here,” Quint growled. “We’ve moved too far beyond those games to start playing them now.”

Rachel smiled wryly. “We’re past that crucial third date, hmm? Time to—”

“I need to be with you,” Quint said huskily. He saw her mouth tremble and part, and he traced the outline of her lips with his finger.

Rachel shivered. His touch was like electricity coursing through her. She felt the current flow to her every cell, as if sealing the connection between them.

“I need to be with you, too, Quint.” Her voice ached with need. And love.

She was in love with him, Rachel conceded to herself. She knew it was too soon to say the words to Quint. Her hesitance had nothing to do with
Games People Play
or
The Rules
and everything to do with timing. She would tell Quint she loved him when the time was right for such an emotional declaration.

It wasn’t now.

Right now the atmosphere was thick with sexual tension. With urgency and lust. Rachel was enthralled. Rampant sexual need glittered in Quint’s eyes, and she knew her eyes reflected her own intense desire. It was intoxicating, knowing how much he wanted her, and returning his feelings in full measure. Right now there was no need for any words at all.

As if they’d been choreographed, they moved at the same moment, into each other’s arms. Quint’s mouth closed over hers in a passionate, possessive kiss. Rachel sighed deeply, her body softening in his arms as his body grew hard and taut, the primal male response to her enveloping feminine sensuality.

She clung to him as his tongue glided over hers, rubbing and stroking, and opened her mouth wider, inviting him deeper and deeper within. Her breasts surged and swelled and filled his hands.

They kissed and kissed, his thumbs moving lightly, deftly over her nipples that were sensitive and engorged and straining against the cotton barrier of her robe. Rachel twisted sinuously against him as sensual anticipation blazed. She wanted her breasts to be bare. She wanted to feel Quint’s mouth on them, the pull of his lips, the flick of his tongue.

Liquid heat flooded her and she felt herself tumbling out of control. She gave a sharp little cry and arched into him, rocking her hips against him, further inflaming them both.

He slipped his hand into the folds of her robe and reached between her legs to cup her hot throbbing center. She moaned into his mouth and her fingers sought him,
tracing the thick fascinating shape of him through the denim of his jeans.

And then the phone rang. And kept ringing.

“No!” Quint gasped as Rachel pushed away from him. “Ignore it. We’ve had too many interruptions already. We aren’t going to have another one.” He reached out to pull her back to him but she managed to sidestep him.

“What if it’s Sarah calling about Brady?” Rachel’s breath was shallow and rapid. “You told her where she could reach you, didn’t you? What if Carla called about some new problem with your father? Or—Or it could even be Laurel.”

She headed to the kitchen to answer her phone but before she could reach it, her answering machine automatically clicked on after six rings. Rachel stopped in her tracks and listened.

“Hey, Rach, this is Wade,” her cousin’s voice came over the line. “Just returning your ten thousand messages. I think you used up the whole tape,” he joked. “Anyway, it looks like we’re playing a game of telephone tag, so why don’t we just call it quits for tonight? I’ll see you in the office tomorrow.”

Rachel looked up to see Quint staring at her. His breathing was ragged, his body was tense, hard and flushed with desire.

“We’re unplugging the damn phone,” he said, his voice low and raw. “The world will just have to get along without us for the next few hours.”

He unplugged the phone, then swept her up in his arms to carry her into her bedroom and lay her down on the queen-size bed she had bought for herself two years ago. Her mother and sister had told her it a waste of her money. Why not simply use the old twin bed from her childhood room until she met Mr. Right, who would buy her a brand-new bed after she’d maneuvered him into exchanging wedding rings?

Rachel had not only bought the bed, she’d purchased an entire bedroom set and wallpapered to match her new
sheets, quilt, and pillow shams. And now Quint was here, the first man to cross the threshold.

He looked big and masculine and jarringly out of place among the dainty violet, yellow, and green floral prints. The very feminine decor enhanced his virility and strength and sent a striking thrill of awareness through her.

“Think we can remember where we were a few minutes ago?” Quint stood beside the bed, staring down at her in a way that made her insides melt.

“We can try.” Her smile was inviting, tempting.

Rachel rose to her knees on the bed and reached for him. A potent mixture of love and desire made her bold. She unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans while he shrugged off his shirt.

He quickly dispatched her robe to the floor, and she found herself kneeling naked in front of him. “I don’t think we were quite this far a few minutes ago,” she said in a high nervous voice. She felt almost virginal, she was definitely a sexual novice, having only done this once before.

Perhaps it was her lawyer’s training in regards to the principle of Full Disclosure that made her admit her lack of experience to Quint. “Just thought I should warn you, instead of using it to ambush you.”

“Let’s make a pact.” He smiled, brushing her hair back from her face. “We will never ambush each other in the bedroom. That’s strictly a courtroom tactic.”

“You’re telling me. You used it to great effect during the Pedersen trial.”

“If that’s a compliment, thank you.”

“It’s a statement of fact to the lawyer who made dog food out of my case.”

Quint laughed and moved even closer. “Sweetheart, I’ve told you time and again that your case
was
a dog.”

The tips of her breasts brushed the wiry mat of hair on his chest. Rachel quivered. Every inch of her skin tingled and burned like sensuous wildfire. “Back then, who would’ve ever guessed that we’d end up like this?” Her voice was husky and thick.

“I wanted to, Rachel,” Quint confessed. He freed himself of his jeans and his boxer shorts, then took her hand and wrapped it around the pulsing length of him.

“You did?” She stared, transfixed by the erotic sight of her fingers holding him.

“I know it’s hard for you to believe because you wanted to behead me during that trial.” He chuckled softly. “And it was pretty humbling, finding myself attracted to a woman who thought I had all the appeal of a serial killer. It took me quite a while to admit it to myself.”

“I thought about you obsessively during that trial,” Rachel murmured. “I’ve never been so aware of another person in my life. I thought it was hate.” She shook her head ruefully. “I guess I had to think that.”

“True.” Quint laughed again. “If you’d thought you were attracted to me while I was carving up your case, Lord only knows what you might’ve done.”

“Maybe I’d’ve taken you hostage, counselor.”

He caught her hand before she could tweak him in a vital area. “That could be construed as an ambush, Rachel,” he reminded her.

“Then I’ll switch tactics.” She caressed him instead.

He sighed. “Much better.”

His hands moved over her curves, leisurely touching her everywhere, lightly but not lingering, tantalizing but not claiming her. He kissed her the same way, his mouth taking hers in brief teasing little kisses. Kisses her lips clung to and returned.

Entranced, she explored him, running her fingers up and down and over him, kneading and caressing him, learning what particular touches made him groan with pleasure. Seducing herself as she seduced him.

Finally, unable to remain still any longer under her sensual explorations, he tumbled her down on the mattress and lay beside her. Closing her eyes, she held him, feeling his muscular body against hers.

His hands were warm and sensitive as he fondled her breasts, lifting the soft full curves, stroking her, brushing
his fingertips around her nipples yet carefully avoiding the swollen tips. He was teasing her, enticing her, making her wait.

She pressed against his hands, seeking what she needed. Demanding what she craved … his fingers on the taut aching buds. “Quint!” she cried his name when he acceded to her wishes and rubbed his thumbs over her rosy nipples.

“Do you like that?” he rasped. The slight stubble on his jaw scraped the sensitive valley between her breasts, the added stimulation taking her to a higher high.

“Yes,” she groaned mindlessly. “Oh yes, Quint.”

“Good. Just relax and let me make you feel good, Rachel. I want to make you feel good …”

And he did. He kissed her breasts, the way she’d been longing for him to do. The feel of his mouth on her nipples made her shudder with pleasure. She’d never dreamed anything could feel so wonderful … Until he trailed his lips along her the soft flesh of her belly while his hands continued to tantalize her breasts. Oh yes, that was just as good, perhaps even better?

While she was dizzily contemplating this erotic conundrum, he grasped her buttocks and pressed his mouth to her. Her body arched wildly, as if she’d been shocked. In a way she had, for the touch of his tongue on the most intimate private part of her was sensually electrifying, like nothing she’d ever experienced. Her mind spun into a zone of sheer hedonistic rapture.

Her hips began to move in helpless rhythm with his mouth; her breathing quickened and became choppy. She uttered a low moan of pleasure. And then another. The aching want overwhelmed her, a blood-rushing urgency made her crazy with tremulous need.

She gasped his name, cried it, as her body suddenly shattered in ecstasy. He held on, riding out the storm with her. When he felt her stop shivering, he moved up to take her in his arms.

“That was beautiful, you’re beautiful,” he said hoarsely.

Rachel was too dazed to speak. When his mouth met
hers, fiery, hot and hungry, she responded, though she was still lost in the sweet haze of sexual oblivion.

He rose above her, positioning himself to enter her. Her limbs felt limp and heavy and she lay open to him, a syrupy warmth suffusing her.

She watched him sheath himself with a condom from the box he’d brought with him, a bit awed by his dexterity. And by the sheer male size of him. She tensed.

Slowly, he thrust into her. Stretching her. Filling her. Rachel whimpered, overwhelmed. He was so big and this was all so new. She felt overmatched, overpowered. A sheen of perspiration dampened her brow.

But Quint whispered to her, complimenting her, encouraging her. Teasing her with sexy words that no one had ever spoken to her. She felt her body melting into a liquid silky heat as she began to adjust to his size and strength. She concentrated on the blend of sensations within her. Thick. Tight. Full.

Rachel decided that it wasn’t so bad. In fact, she liked it. A streak of pure pleasure rippled through her. She loved it. Loved him, and sharing her body with him. Her eyes opened and she looked into his face, adoring him.

She slid her hands over his stomach, his hips, and he muttered something unintelligible. She felt a twinge of feminine pride. To have induced speechlessness in the usually prodigiously verbal Quint Cormack was no small feat, but she had done it.

Rachel shifted her hips and took him deeper. He set a slow, steady rhythm that she matched at first, until the excitement flaring inside her demanded a faster pace. She clenched her inner muscles and arched against him. He provided what she needed, moving harder and faster. They kissed, deeply, passionately, adding a loving intimacy to their urgency.

Rachel’s control vanished, and she savored the wild abandon of their lovemaking. She gave herself to him completely, trusting him, reveling in the mindless bliss of pure physical pleasure. The sensations built and spun.

Together they soared to the heights and hung there for a timeless interlude of shared rapture. It seemed to last forever and it seemed to end all too soon.

Finally he collapsed against her, and they lay across the bed, spent, holding on to each other. Eventually, Quint shifted his weight off her but tucked her into his side, keeping her close. He pressed soft, hot little kisses on her throat and shoulder, her neck and hair.

Rachel held him, stroking her hands along the broad width of his back. She felt languid and lighter than air, bathed in the warm afterglow of sated passion.

Neither felt the need to speak. They were beyond words.

Seated at the table in the conference room Monday morning, an astonished Rachel listened to Aunt Eve tick off the list of complaints that had been lodged against the Tildens.

Breaking and entering. Criminal trespass. Burglary. Grand larceny. Terroristic threats. And if those weren’t enough, an allegation of conspiracy loomed as a possible addendum. Criminal charges were pending, unless Misty agreed to drop the complaint.

Rachel tried to take it all in. “The police won’t actually consider—”

“The police are most definitely considering pressing charges, Rachel,” Eve interjected. “They have no choice, really. These complaints are extremely serious ones, and unless Misty Tilden withdraws—correction, unless
Quinton Cormack
withdraws them, arrest warrants will be issued.”

“It’s strictly Cormack’s move to make because he is calling all the shots for his client,” Wade said mournfully. “Everybody knows that, even the cops.”