CHAPTER TWO
AS SHE’D gone over the events in her head that had led to their becoming lovers Rowena had tried time after time to work it out, but she hadn’t been able to pinpoint the exact moment that friendship had become something else.
It had begun before her short stint at the New York office, which the powers that be had deemed essential for someone about to take over the running of the London end of the operation. Rowena had needed an escort for a big charity bash and Quinn, who had just accepted a senior post at a major teaching hospital in the city, had stepped in at the last minute.
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t noticed, but after knowing him for so long Rowena took his spectacular looks for granted. The admiring glances he’d received that night, not to mention the envious comments she’d received from friends and acquaintances, had brought home to her just what a gorgeous creature he was.
It had been a good night—no, better than good—Quinn had a way of making his companion feel very special. He was also a great dancer, and an even better conversation-alist—he had a dry wit and a clever tongue that had had her laughing half the night. She’d laughed so much that several acquaintances had commented on the fact, which had made Rowena wonder—for about two seconds—if she didn’t take things a little too seriously as a rule.
‘You were a big hit,’ she told him when he dropped her off at her flat in the early hours. Head against the backrest, she yawned and fished around for the shoes she’d slipped off her aching feet when she’d got into Quinn’s Jaguar.
Quinn inclined his dark head. ‘We aim to please.’
‘So now I know how you manage to captivate all those women.’ Quinn worked hard, but he played hard too. He had a taste for fast cars, motorbikes and beautiful women, but no staying power with the latter as far as Rowena could tell—not that she held this against him.
Perhaps like her he was married to his career, or maybe he hadn’t met the right girl yet…The fleeting thought made her feel vaguely dissatisfied.
‘If I didn’t know you so well,’ she teased him, adjusting the strap on her kitten-heeled sling-back, ‘I might even make a pass at you myself.’
For what felt like a long time he looked at her, his expression enigmatic. ‘Is that all that’s stopping you?’
Rowena’s smile didn’t make it past the starting-post—there was no shadow of humour in his face, just a taut, dangerous expression that made the nerve endings deep inside her stomach tortuously flutter with excitement.
She couldn’t remember what she’d said to fill the awkward lingering silence that had followed, but she knew his contribution had been nil. He’d just sat there and let her babble like an idiot.
One thing she did recall, very well indeed as it happened, was how it had felt when his arm had brushed against her breasts as he’d stretched over to open the car door for her. She had been mortified, not to mention confused, when her nipples had responded instantaneously to the brief contact. She had prayed he hadn’t noticed them thrusting brazenly through the thin fabric of her bodice as she’d slid with a hastily mumbled thank-you from the car.
There had been no legitimate reason to refuse the series of invites that had followed—after all they were friends, and there was nothing wrong, she had told herself, with having a meal with a friend, or going to the theatre. As for walking by the river in the rain, what could be a more innocuous way to spend an evening?
Quinn’s behaviour had given her no cause for complaint; there had been no repeat of that electric moment in the car. No, he had acted like the perfect gentleman despite the fact that she, for some perverse reason, had gone out of her way to recreate the moment—maybe it had been just to convince herself it had actually happened…?
Letting her hand linger longer than strictly necessary on his arm or knee, a lot more eye contact than was normal between them, making sure he’d been able to see her very excellent legs when she’d sat opposite him. Nothing too heavy or obvious; at least that was what she’d thought until one night, sitting in her flat after having been out for dinner, Quinn had bluntly demanded an explanation.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she blustered. ‘I’m not playing at anything.’
He dragged an unsteady hand through his thick hair. ‘Well, whatever that nothing is you’re doing, it’s driving me crazy.’ His green eyes came to rest on her face. ‘You’re driving me crazy.’
‘I am?’ she exclaimed, unable to hide her pleasure. ‘You’d never have known,’ she added with a condemnatory frown.
After a startled moment Quinn began to laugh. It was such a warm, uninhibited sound she couldn’t bring herself to be cross with him.
‘Well, if you must know, I’m quite attracted to you,’ she divulged bluntly. ‘The idea takes some getting used to…’ With a hint of bravado she raised her eyes and saw it was Quinn’s turn to look pleased—and relief rushed through her. It would have been too embarrassing if she’d been reading the wrong messages.
‘I think,’ he replied huskily, ‘that it might be worth the effort.’
Mesmerised by the stark hunger in his darkly lashed eyes, she felt her knees start to tremble. Her heart was battering against her ribcage like a sledgehammer.
He would be an excellent kisser—with a mouth like that how could he not be? she reasoned, allowing her gaze to rest dreamily on that stern, sensual outline. The idea of putting her theory to the test had her literally trembling with anticipation.
‘You don’t think it’s too silly an idea, then,’ she gasped, feeling a bit light-headed with relief—well, maybe relief wasn’t solely responsible for that strange but marvellous floaty feeling.
Quinn took the wilful curve of her jaw in his hand, his fingers stroking the smooth skin of her throat. The touch was so gentle and his strength was so formidable that Rowena found the contrast deeply exciting. ‘Not silly at all,’ he replied.
His deep, husky voice sent tiny shivers up and down her spine. ‘I knew you’d understand—you being not exactly big on the whole commitment thing.’ Rowena was so relieved that she hardly registered the wary expression that flickered into his eyes. ‘I mean, neither of us have the time to lavish on a proper relationship, do we?’ she told him happily. ‘With that whole pet name, flowers, and plans for the future stuff. Most of all the plans for the future,’ she added with a heartfelt shudder. ‘But we all have…needs.’ It was probably ignoring hers that was responsible for her present distracted condition. ‘I think I should be honest with you.’
‘By all means be honest,’ Quinn responded drily.
Rowena nodded, glad they were in accord. Quinn had let go of her chin and she wished he hadn’t. She wondered if it would be quite acceptable for her to take the initiative and touch him…? God, but she wanted to, she thought, her eyes running covetously over his lean frame.
‘Of course I’ve tried sex, but, I’ve got to admit, it wasn’t an unqualified success. To be quite honest,’ she added, the words coming in a rush, ‘I’m terrible at it, but I’m willing to learn.’
She heard the stark sound of his inhalation and wished she’d not been quite so frank, but it was true: sexually she was what was popularly termed frigid. The first time might have been put down to inexperience, but the second time had been a full five years later, and though her lover—an attractive, experienced man she’d liked a lot—had been perfectly polite, she’d been able to tell he’d been in no hurry to repeat the experience, and actually neither had she. Since then she’d been able to channel her energies into her work—until Quinn.
‘Let me get this straight—you want me for sex and nothing else.’
His low, very quiet tone sent a quiver of apprehension up her spine. Anxiously she searched his face but it was impossible to read anything from his enigmatic expression.
‘Well, I wouldn’t put it like that exactly.’
‘Well, I would!’ he yelled suddenly. ‘I’d put it exactly like that. I’ve heard you called callous, Rowena. I’ve heard you called a cold, calculating bitch.’
Rowena flinched. It was a tired old sexist line that she’d heard many times before and it never failed to make her mad as hell—it hadn’t hurt as it did hearing Quinn say it, though. It was nonsense, of course—a man who shared the qualities that made her good at what she did would have been universally admired for his skill, but not her. No, she was female so that automatically made her as hard as nails.
‘And I’ve always stuck up for you, but I’m beginning to see how much you’ve changed since the old days!’ he blazed. ‘Sex isn’t something you schedule like a finance meeting.’
Rowena listened to his diatribe in stunned silence. ‘I didn’t mean…I had no intention of insulting you, I just wanted to be upfront, Quinn.’
‘I’m slow,’ he reflected with a bitter smile, ‘but not that slow. I don’t need a diagram to tell me what you want.’ At some level he was aware that he was overreacting—after all, he’d been propositioned before.
Quinn’s scornful sneer reawakened her temper. ‘I have to tell you, Quinn, I find all this righteous outrage at being treated like a sex object just a tad hypocritical coming from you of all people. I mean, a man with a track record like yours hardly screams commitment, does he? Or don’t you like it when someone turns the table on you? The way you’re going on anyone would think you wanted a serious relationship or something…’ She saw his face and her eyes widened. ‘Good god!’ she gasped, horrified. ‘You didn’t, did you…?’ She laughed in what was pure nervous disbelief, but he could hardly be expected to know that.
‘I’ve been accused of being shallow in my time…’ His voice had dropped to a soft, menacing whisper, but Rowena was in no mood to be intimidated.
‘I can’t imagine why,’ she muttered belligerently.
The glacial flicker of his long-lashed eyes silenced her. ‘But it would seem I’m an amateur compared to you.’
‘The way I hear it you get by,’ she retorted childishly.
‘Then maybe you hear it wrong,’ he cut back in a chilly voice. ‘I may not be able to match your clinical objectivity, but I’m not totally unrealistic. I accept that some relationships are never going to go anywhere, but they’re fun anyway. I’ve been there and done that, but not as often as you seem to think.’
Rowena hardly noticed this dry postscript; she was too busy dwelling on the lurid images drifting around in her head of Quinn having fun. She actually felt quite unwell—she’d had doubts about that lobster.
‘Part of the excitement of entering a relationship is not knowing where it’s going.’
Diverted by this peculiar viewpoint, Rowena forgot momentarily about the sick churning in her stomach. Personally Rowena always liked to know exactly where she was going.
‘The exploration,’ Quinn expanded forcibly. ‘The wondering whether it might lead somewhere, whether she might be the one.’
Rowena’s jaw dropped—it was something of a revelation to learn that Quinn believed there was such a thing as the one. Let alone discover he was actively looking for her. Boy, had she got Quinn wrong—the man was a romantic!
‘With you there would be no wondering, we’d both know exactly where we were going—nowhere!’ he continued.
Rowena’s chin came up. She didn’t much care for that combination of pity and contempt on his face. It was pretty obvious there was no point suggesting they went nowhere together.
‘Let’s call it crossed wires,’ she suggested with an easy-come, easy-go shrug. Rowena had her pride and she didn’t want him to guess how disappointed, mortified and frustrated she was by his rejection.
His own shrug was just as untroubled and dismissive.
Dragging her thoughts kicking and screaming back to the present, Rowena slid a wary, half-defiant look in the direction of her staff.
Their expressions were respectful enough now but Rowena wasn’t fool enough to imagine that this situation would last for two seconds once she was out of the door. She hadn’t gained her hard-nosed, cool-headed reputation by accident and now in two seconds flat she’d blown her cover wide open.
‘Happy? Hardly,’ she snapped venomously, fixing Quinn with a look of loathing. ‘Well, if you’ll excuse us, Quinn was just leaving.’ Clinging to the tattered shreds of her dignity and trying to show she was still in charge, Rowena shoved Quinn’s jacket at him and nodded imperiously in the direction of the door.
‘So soon,’ Quinn bemoaned sarcastically, throwing his jacket casually over his shoulder. ‘We hadn’t even started talking money yet.’ He waved casually to the three watching women as Rowena, seething with exasperation, grabbed him by the arm.
‘That would be right!’ Rowena flared contemptuously—God, why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut? ‘You always did have your eye on the big bucks, Quinn. Why else go in for plastic surgery?’
‘Perhaps I thought I could make a difference,’ he suggested mildly.
Rowena sniffed, unwilling to admit even to herself that her accusation of avarice had been out of line, not to mention totally inaccurate.
Quinn was considered a world expert in facial reconstructive surgery and, though he did make big money from the high-profile clients who sought him out, Rowena knew he didn’t restrict his expertise to those who could pay for it. The vast bulk of his workload was, and always had been, within the NHS, even though he could have made much more by working exclusively in the private sector. Not that money mattered to Quinn, coming as he did from a wealthy, privileged background.
‘Three-thirty in my office, Sylvia!’ Rowena called, putting a bold face on her unorthodox departure.
The three women exchanged glances as the door closed.
‘I knew I recognised his name…’ Anna cried. ‘He did Lexie Lamont’s new nose, so they say, and I saw him on that telly programme last month—the one about that teenager who got hit in the face by a jet ski.’
Sylvia nodded. ‘I saw it; the girl got all choked up every time she talked about him.’
‘Small wonder!’ Anna exclaimed. ‘Did you see the before picture? She mashed just about every bone in her face to pulp—all he had to go on when he rebuilt it were pictures.’
‘There’s no mistake, then, he’s really a doctor. I suppose it’s lucky we didn’t send the others home,’ her assistant reflected.
A naughty grin appeared on Sylvia’s pretty face. ‘Is it just me or do you get the impression boss lady isn’t too keen on sharing…?’
The explosive sound of laughter was clearly audible to Rowena as she stalked, head held high, from the crowded ante-room crowded with leather-clad clones.
‘I hope you’re satisfied now!’ she gritted to Quinn.
‘Don’t fret, Rowena, I’m sure your ice-cold bitch image can survive worse than this.’
‘I hate you!’ If that were true, how it would simplify matters.
‘I can live with that,’ he lied, increasing his pace to keep up with her. ‘It’s being ignored I’m not so comfortable with,’ he concluded grimly.
‘I’ve heard of men who turn to stalking when they get given the push, but I never thought you’d be one of them, Quinn. If only I’d known then what I know now…’ As if it would have made any difference, a self-derisive voice-over in her head insisted on supplementing.
‘I haven’t been given the push.’
Rowena came to an abrupt halt in front of her PA’s desk. Hands planted on her hips, she swung around, causing her silver-blonde hair to bell around her face before settling down into the loosely tendrilled nape-length style she’d recently adopted.
‘Consider yourself pushed, Quinn.’
Quinn smiled. ‘Like hell I will!’ Ignoring her loudly voiced protests, he placed his hand against her chest and thrust her through the open door of her office. ‘Hold all Ms Parrish’s calls,’ he instructed the startled-looking young woman behind the desk.
‘Call Security, Bernice!’ Rebecca yelled shrilly just before Quinn kicked the door closed. ‘I suppose you think this ridiculous caveman act is impressive!’ she jeered, retreating to the other side of her large desk—the symbol of her authority. Unfortunately it didn’t afford her that warm, in-charge feeling it normally did.
‘If you think spending just one night with me entitles you to behave like this you’re sadly mistaken, not to mention living in the wrong century. As for taking off your clothes—I’m not even going to ask!’ she choked, her nose wrinkling in disgust at the thought of Quinn parading half naked in front of the other women. ‘If I hadn’t come in when I did, heaven knows how far you’d have gone!’
‘And you don’t like that idea?’ Quinn didn’t sound as though her disgust displeased him.
It made her feel sick to the stomach. ‘I hate to spoil your pathetic male fantasies of women fighting over you, but I simply don’t like the idea of you wasting my staff’s time. We have deadlines to meet, you know. How would you like it if I smuggled myself into your hospital and tried to pass myself off as a nurse?’
‘Give me a minute here, I’m just picturing you…Does the uniform have one of those cute frilly caps?’ Rowena didn’t have time to respond to this outrageous piece of sexism before his languid air of mockery vanished, revealing the sort of penetrative expression that made her nostalgic for his irritating mockery of seconds before. ‘What the hell have you been doing to yourself, Rowena?’ He sat down on the edge of her desk and stretched his long legs out in front of him.
‘I had my hair cut.’
‘That’s not what I mean. You’ve lost weight.’
‘Thank you.’
Her hips had always been the envy of her more amply endowed friends, but losing almost a stone in weight during the past few weeks meant that the short skirt she was wearing today no longer clung to her hips, but hung loosely.
‘You look terrible.’
In case I hadn’t got the point, she thought caustically.
‘You don’t lose that sort of weight so quickly unless you’re ill or under a lot of pressure,’ he announced authoritatively.
Her glance slid evasively from his. Did morning sickness count as being ill? ‘Well, thanks for the medical assessment, Doctor, but I’m neither. It’s just too many late nights, and no time to eat.’
‘In fact life’s just one long party.’ He didn’t bother hiding his scepticism.
‘Absolutely,’ she maintained defiantly.
‘Which no doubt accounts for you ignoring my e-mails and phone calls—although that isn’t a problem now, is it? Not since you had all your numbers changed and went ex-directory.’ Rowena watched with an irritated frown as he began to mess up the row of pencils laid out symmetrically on her desk. Looking at his long, clever fingers brought a sudden rush of memories, his fingers dark against her pale breasts. His fingers sliding between…
Rowena caught her full lower lip between her teeth. She resented the fact he was making her behave guiltily. ‘That was pure coincidence,’ she announced with stilted defiance.
He lifted his head, and from beneath the sweep of inky dark lashes looked enquiringly across at her. ‘And is it coincidence that had me made persona non grata at your apartment building?’
Rowena had a firm policy of ignoring things she couldn’t deny and she did so now with a careless toss of her fair head. ‘I’ve only just got back, Quinn. New York was hectic.’ She wished straight off she hadn’t mentioned New York.
She thought of New York and, unlike normal people who had spent any time there, she didn’t associate with the vibrant, alive, noisy, scary, exciting place it was. No, Rowena immediately associated it with Quinn, incredible sex and the frightening consequences of the latter…
‘What about the weekend you came home?’
‘You knew about that?’ Startled, she glanced up to see an expression she couldn’t quite place on his face.
‘Wasn’t I meant to?’
‘It was no secret.’ Recovering a little composure, Rowena managed to continue in a persuasively reasonable tone. ‘I’ve just started a new job. I’ve hardly had time to make contact with every casual acquaintance I have.’ She gulped, but the sound was drowned out by the sibilant hiss of his indrawn breath.
Oh, God, that had come out all wrong and then some…!
‘Casual acquaintance,’ he said very softly and deadly silkily. Then, even softer, ‘Casual acquaintance. Tell me, Rowena, how do you say hello to people you know quite well?’
She closed her eyes as an image appeared in her mind’s eye of herself walking down the crowded New York street three months ago, surrounded by a seething mass of humanity. Maybe it had been the mild culture shock of moving to another city where she knew nobody, or maybe it had been the stress of proving herself, but she had never felt so alone in her life.
Then she’d seen him. She hadn’t even needed to get a proper look at that unmistakable profile—his innately elegant, long-legged stride would have been sufficient proof. Two men in the world couldn’t move that way. Without thinking she had barged through the people separating them, breaking every rule of pedestrian etiquette and probably bruising a few shins to get to him.
Waving her bag above her head, she’d shrieked his name like a demented banshee until she’d been hoarse. She’d almost been at his shoulder when he’d finally turned around and Rowena, her face flushed, breathing hard, had come to an abrupt halt.
Shock of recognition in his eyes had morphed into hot desire. An answering desire had shimmered hot and liquid through her.
‘You’re here,’ she said stupidly. ‘I can’t believe it.’
And then he kissed her.
‘Convinced now?’ he asked, when he lifted his head.
Rowena stared dizzily up into his face unable to focus properly—unable to do anything much except stare at him.
The native New Yorkers, a tolerant bunch and not easily surprised, had parted around the embracing couple.
‘I always knew you’d be a good kisser, you’ve got such a beautiful mouth.’ Her hands, pressed flat against the hard surface of his chest, felt his responsive rumble of laughter.
He continued to display his proficiency at kissing in the taxi, then in the lift going up to his hotel room. The kissing didn’t stop once the door had closed behind them but other things started, things she couldn’t even think about without blushing.
Hurtling back into the present, Rowena was still faced with Quinn’s anger at being called a casual acquaintance. ‘You caught me at a weak moment,’ she defended herself.
‘There was no catching involved—the way I recall it you did the running.’ He reached across and touched her chin with his forefinger.
‘And you wonder why I’ve been avoiding you,’ she said, jerking her chin away from his grip.
‘I thought that was all in my mind.’ Quinn spun around on the smooth surface of the desk until his legs were the wrong side of it—her side.
‘I knew it would be like this,’ she muttered, grabbing two handfuls of silvery fair hair and shaking her head from side to side. ‘I thought you understood New York was a mistake, not the start of something.’ Nothing that she had any intention of telling him about just now, anyhow.
‘The only mistake I made was allowing you to persuade me to leave.’
Rowena’s heart dropped as far as her narrow, expensively shod feet. His inflexible tone and grim expression suggested that he was about to compensate for that mistake.
She closed her eyes, incredibly frustrated by his unyielding, downright mule-headed attitude. ‘Talking to you is like…like talking to that wall!’
Which, if things went on like this, she’d be doing in next to no time. She could see it now—crazy fashion editor carted away by the men in white coats. How her enemies would love that…another fast-track hot shot hits the dust!
‘You want me,’ he insisted.
At least this was one subject he didn’t have any doubts about—he couldn’t be in the same room as her without knowing that Rowena craved his touch just as much as he did hers. This knowledge only increased his frustration. Hell, the sizzling, sexually fuelled static between them was nothing short of a fire hazard!
Rowena glared at him for about twenty seconds before her defiance deserted her. ‘That’s as maybe,’ she conceded, concentrating hard on controlling her wildly fluctuating complexion—women in her position did not blush like schoolgirls; neither did they ache inside the way she did.
Quinn’s grin had a worryingly predatory look to it.
‘No maybe about it.’
A small shrug of her slender shoulders conceded his cocky claim. ‘You’ve only yourself to blame—laying down rules and conditions,’ she brooded darkly. ‘Whatever happened to spontaneity and free love?’ She quivered, working herself into a resentful lather as she contemplated her bad luck. She’d found the lover of her dreams—a man not noted for his steadfast devotion—and he had to get all moralistic and possessive on her.
‘Free love?’ Quinn mused. ‘I’m trying to see you as a flower child, but it’s not easy,’ he admitted.
‘You’re nothing but a reformed rake!’ The old-fashioned term seemed to suit him oddly well—he definitely had the legs for tight-fitting Regency breeches as well.
Quinn’s lips quivered at this hot accusation. ‘Just for the record, in my book spontaneity is good, but you get nothing for free. You’ll have to learn to live with the fact I’m not available on a casual, nocturnal basis only. There are people who provide such services, I believe—for a price!’
Her hand flashed out but Quinn’s reflexes were faster. Rowena found her wrist enclosed in a steely grip. Feet braced on the floor, he drew her in between the confines of his iron-hard muscular thighs as he pulled her hand back down to her side, clicking his tongue in mocking disapproval.
‘I want to be part of your life, Rowena—an integral part.’ Rowena stopped struggling, at least physically. Her inner conflict was less easily subdued! Their eyes meshed and she instantly got herself lost in his sea green gaze. ‘I’ve no interest in the sort of hole-in-the-corner affair you were suggesting in New York.’
‘Private is not the same as sordid.’ Most men would have been flattered by the sort of civilised arrangement she had offered him—no complications, no emotional dramas.
‘I’m not good at subterfuge.’
Rowena’s bosom swelled with incredulous indignation. ‘There speaks the man who’d just conned his way into this building!’
‘If you hadn’t been so unreasonable I wouldn’t have needed to resort to less than open tactics.’
‘Dirty tactics, you mean,’ she retorted, pulling her wrist free from his grip and waving an admonitory finger in front of his nose. ‘We both know that when you want something there’s just about nothing you won’t do!’ she snapped furiously.
Quinn gazed levelly back at her, not the least disturbed by her heated indictment. He reached forward and ran a finger slowly down the soft curve of her cheek, his piercing eyes darkening as she flinched back as if burnt.
‘And at the moment I want you…’
Her angry flush faded with dramatic abruptness leaving Rowena marble pale. Her breath emerged as a shaky tremulous gasp. Where was the scornful put-down when she needed one?
‘Is that meant to be some sort of turn-on? Well, I’ve got news for you…’ It worked extremely well. ‘Your problem is you like everyone to know about your trophy girlfriends,’ she jeered hoarsely. ‘It makes you feel the big man to see yourself plastered all over the gossip columns.’
‘I think that’s slight exaggeration, Rowena, I barely rate a couple of lines in Country Life.’
‘Your false modesty makes me sick.’
‘You’ll get used to the idea, you know,’ he promised.
‘What idea?’
‘The idea of being part of a couple.’
‘And if I don’t?’
‘You don’t have any choice, angel.’
‘How do you figure that one?’
‘You need me.’
Rowena gasped. His arrogance was simply unbelievable! ‘Have you always been delusional?’
His expression abruptly softened as he assimilated the torment in her wide-spaced eyes. ‘You need me, about as much as I need you. See, I can do it, and I’ve had as little practice at it as you have. It hardly hurts at all to admit it. I’m going to teach you to say it,’ he promised.
Eyes wide with horror and lips clamped defiantly shut, she shook her head vigorously from side to side.
‘We’ll see, shall we?’
There was no challenge in his statement, just total, complete conviction—whether this conviction stemmed from a misplaced notion that she was female and therefore weak and malleable, or a belief in his own ability to bend anything or anyone to his will, Rowena didn’t know. She did know a challenge would have been much easier to deal with.
Rowena wanted to put him right, but she felt strangely disinclined to do anything, move, speak, breathe even—perhaps it had something to do with the almost narcotic quality of the combination of his level, deep voice and the sexily slumbrous gleam in his eyes.
‘I did knock, Rowena…’ Her PA’s tentative voice made Rowena start.
‘Yes, Bernice?’ she responded, putting as much clear space rapidly between herself and Quinn as was possible. Her mind wasn’t functioning with its usual clarity, but at least she wasn’t staring up at him like a hypnotised rabbit screaming ‘eat me’ any longer.
This was one of the reasons she hadn’t wanted to see him. He walked in a room and her wits flew out the nearest window, which made no sense! Rowena had experienced sexual attraction before and stayed firmly in charge of her feelings at every level—the person involved only knew about it if she wanted him to. With Quinn she didn’t have that luxury, she was clumsy, inarticulate and painfully needy.
‘There’s a call from your sister and she says it’s urgent…’
Rowena frowned. Holly had taken her new fiancé up to Scotland to show him off to their elderly grandparents who lived in a remote part of the country called Wester Ross.
‘Fine, I’ll take it, Bernice,’ Rowena replied to her normally discreet assistant who was shooting surreptitious looks in Quinn’s direction.
The young woman withdrew, blushing, when Quinn smiled at her.
‘Holly, it’s me…do you mind? This is private!’ she hissed, covering the mouthpiece and glaring across at Quinn.
‘Say hello to Holly for me,’ he requested, unperturbed by her hostility as he strolled to the far end of the room and began to read the titles on the spines of the files that filled the shelves there.
‘What? Yes, it is Quinn. No…yes, he is here. It doesn’t matter, I’ll explain later. What’s wro—?’ Rowena grew silent as her sister broke into impetuous speech the other end of the line.
Rowena had her back turned to him, but Quinn could almost feel her distress as the slim, supple line of her back grew tense. Her next faltering exclamation confirmed his suspicions—Holly didn’t have good news.
‘Oh, God, no!’ Rowena raised her hand to her mouth, compressing the quivering line of her lips—not Gran!
The image of Elspeth Frazer floated before her eyes. Five feet nothing with rosy cheeks, startling blue eyes and snow-white hair, she could have come straight from the glossy illustrations in a book of fairy tales. The illusion of a cosy grandmother was shattered the instant Elspeth opened her mouth. The octogenarian had never suffered fools gladly and, not only did she have a bawdy sense of humour, she possessed a will of iron.
Elspeth had been a consultant paediatrician in the early fifties, when women consultants had been very few and far between. Rowena had left Holly to follow in Gran’s footsteps and become a doctor, but nonetheless Elspeth Frazer had been her own inspiration, the person she thought of when the going got tough. Rowena could never understand how a woman like her grandmother, who had fought so hard to get where she wanted, had turned her back on everything and buried herself in general practice in the back of beyond. She’d eventually asked.
‘Why, I saw your grandfather, my dear, and I loved him.’
Perplexed, a much younger Rowena had asked, ‘Well couldn’t he have come to live in the City?’
‘He could, but he’d have been unhappy.’
‘Well, I’d never do that for a man!’
‘We’ll see…’
Rowena heard the familiar soft accent in her head and her eyes filled with tears. She blinked back the moisture and forced herself to ask the thing she didn’t want to.
‘Is she…? Do they think…? Don’t cry, Holly, and don’t get too technical,’ she pleaded as her doctor sister began to go into details about the suspected stroke that their grandmother had suffered that morning.
She wasn’t aware that Quinn was beside her until she felt the warm imprint of his hand on her shoulder. No matter what the state of their personal relationship, she wasn’t about to reject his support. Rowena was proud, but not stupid—Quinn was the sort of man whom people automatically turned to in a crisis.
She made no objection as he slid a chair under her shaky legs and urged her gently down into it.
She held the receiver a little way from her ear. ‘She’s crying again.’ She gulped, raising tear-filled eyes to his face. ‘Holly never cries,’ she added, her own lower lip quivering madly.
‘Let me have it.’
Rowena relinquished the phone without a second thought. For once she didn’t resent Quinn’s air of calm authority.
‘Hello, Holly, sweetheart, it’s Quinn,’ she heard him say warmly to her sister. ‘Yes, I know, but…is Niall there? Good, put him on. Hi, Niall, it’s Quinn.’
Rowena, her head in her hands, could hear the male rumble as Holly’s fiancé responded at length. Quinn didn’t interrupt him. ‘Yes, I get the picture. It’ll be quicker if we fly up. Can you organise some transport from Inverness? Right, I’ll ring when I’ve got more details.’
CHAPTER THREE
ROWENA woke up, and for several horrid moments experienced total amnesia. It didn’t last long, but realising where she was, with whom and, worst of all, why was no less horrid than the original empty void.
She stretched sleepily in the confined space. There was a dull ache behind her eyes and her stiff limbs felt as though she hadn’t moved in an age. A glance at her watch revealed this wasn’t far off the truth; they couldn’t be far off Inverness.
‘You’re awake.’
The soft drawl somewhere east of her right ear was extremely welcome, not that she had any intention of allowing her travelling companion to see just how welcome. ‘Very obviously.’ Rowena raised a hand to cover her yawn as she adjusted her seat from its reclining position. Someone, she noticed, had placed a blanket over her while she’d slept. Had it been Quinn? The thought made her throat feel achey and tight. God, this has to stop, she rebuked herself sharply. Carry on broadcasting emotional and vulnerable signals like these and they’ll pick them up in the Shetlands, girl!
‘How are you feeling?’ With raised brows Quinn took in her aggressive frown. ‘Other than grouchy.’
‘I’m not grouchy.’
Was she particularly shallow? Or was it normal to fret stupidly about trivial matters like the fact your hair was sticking up and your eyeshadow had probably run when you were on a mission that should, and did, take precedence over everything else? How was there room in her head, given her anxiety levels over Gran, to take on board the fact that Quinn looked overpoweringly virile and as vital and energetic as she felt jaded and weary?
‘And I feel perfectly fine.’ It occurred to her that she ought to be displaying more gratitude than she was, considering what he had done for her. ‘Thank you,’ she added awkwardly.
There was no polite way of putting it—she had fallen apart! It was still kind of shocking to accept that this had happened—maybe if Quinn hadn’t been there she would have pulled herself together and done what needed to be done…. Perhaps it was the security of having someone she trusted to take care of her and the situation that had enabled her to temporarily relinquish her iron control.
Her blue eyes fluttered wide with amazement; she did trust Quinn—utterly! When, she wondered, had that happened? Aware of his questioning regard, she lowered her eyes abruptly and began to fold the discarded blanket, her slim fingers trembling slightly as she fussed, lining the corners up with meticulous precision.
It was herself she didn’t trust! If she allowed sexual attraction to dictate her actions, Rowena knew she wouldn’t be doing either of them any favours. Quinn deserved a woman who could give him the things he probably didn’t even know he wanted yet. Things like a home—not just four walls and a roof, but a real home. There would be babies, of course—babies!
Talk about catch-22, she thought, resisting the impulse to place her hands protectively over her belly. Is this really me feeling wistful over a dewy-eyed version of domestic bliss…? She shook her head—this had to stop before she started listening to that voice in her head that kept saying a child needed two parents.
You couldn’t make a decision on the basis of physical attraction. If she did that she might even, in a moment of weakness and self-delusion, convince herself she could provide what Quinn wanted. The result would be disaster—she’d end up resenting him from stopping her doing what she wanted to do in her career, and in turn he’d resent her because she wouldn’t be able to put him first. Quinn was a man who needed to be put first.
‘I didn’t mean to fall asleep.’
His eyes skimmed her delicately flushed face. ‘No problem,’ he responded easily.
‘I’m not used to drinking brandy in the middle of the day.’ Actually she wasn’t used to drinking it at any time, which was why the tiny amount she’d had had gone straight to her head. The stuff Quinn had discovered in her kitchen cupboard had been for culinary purposes only up to that afternoon.
‘I’d say you’re not used to drinking much any time,’ Quinn mused with his usual perception. ‘But you make a fairly amiable drunk.’
Maybe she was being paranoid, but it seemed to Rowena that his expression hinted at some private joke. She just hoped she hadn’t said or done anything too awful or disastrously revealing when she was being amiable.
‘I’m sorry about the fuss with Security…’ Fuss was a pretty mild way of putting it. It was ironic, really—normally she would have applauded their stubborn attempts to detach her from Quinn.
It had actually taken Rowena some time to convince the suspicious employees anxious to do their duty that a kidnap was not in progress. She closed her eyes, mortified to even think about that terrible scene when they’d attempted to leave the magazine offices.
Give it twenty-four hours and the already juicy tale would have been embellished beyond recognition.
‘Bernice is a bit overprotective.’
‘So I gathered,’ Quinn responded drily.
‘You did have…’ Rowena felt her colour rise but doggedly she continued ‘…your arm around me.’ She saw no reason to remind him or herself how hard she had been clinging to it!
‘Kidnapping seems a pretty drastic leap to make.’
‘Well, she did see us arguing,’ she reminded him in Bernice’s defence. ‘And I’m not normally the sort of person who goes around leaning on…anyone.’
‘I’m touched you made an exception in my case.’
Rowena hardly noticed his wry interjection. ‘I can’t believe I just walked out like that.’
‘You were in shock.’
Rowena’s expression made it clear that shock was a poor excuse in her eyes for deserting her post.
‘What will people think?’
‘Do you care?’
‘Of course I care, this is my professional reputation we’re talking about.’ Somehow she doubted if Quinn would be quite so laid back if it were his job they were discussing. ‘And in my business,’ she told him grimly, ‘there’s always someone willing to stab you in the back.’
‘Perhaps we should ask them to turn the plane around.’
‘Don’t patronise me, Quinn!’ she flared. ‘I want to go to see Gran, of course I do. I just wish I’d been thinking straight. I should at least have had the common courtesy to explain to Bernice, she would have cancelled my appointments…’ She frowned, trying to recall her busy schedule for the next few days.
‘Well, it’s not too late, is it?’ he pointed out practically. ‘And if you’re fretting about working I did pack your laptop.’
Rowena could have done without this reminder that, not only had Quinn arranged a private flight, treating the whole procedure as though it were no different from hiring a car, when he’d discovered that there were no seats available on the scheduled departures, but he had also packed her clothes too.
Anaesthetised by the small glass of brandy he had forced between her bloodless lips, she had watched him from her cross-legged position on her bed, occasionally shouting instructions in what she seemed to recall had been a loud and stroppy tone.
‘Not those pants, decorative but far too uncomfortable!’ she’d explained as he’d pulled out a racy-looking thong from her knicker drawer to add to the clothes crammed in her case.
The memory made her groan and clutch her head.
‘Could you do with a coffee?’ her attentive escort asked.
Escort…hell! Quinn on escort duty meant hours and hours of contact, and far too much opportunity for her to let things slip…It was nothing short of miraculous that she hadn’t so far!
The last shreds of muddled sleepiness left her as, galvanised into action, she shot upright, and, discovering there was nowhere much to go, sat down again with a bump.
‘You can’t come to Scotland!’ she exclaimed in an anguished tone. She really must have been out of it earlier to have let him get on the plane with her!
‘Short of parachuting I’ve not much option at this point.’
‘Obviously you’ll be flying straight back.’
Quinn looked down into her worried face and smiled—but it wasn’t a comforting sort of smile.
‘I promised Niall—’
Rowena’s expression hardened. What was this, some male conspiracy. ‘Niall had no right to ask you anything. I don’t need a minder!’
A lick of flame appeared in his eyes as they stilled on her angry face. ‘No, you need a lover of the live-in variety!’ Then he smiled benignly and patted her on the back as she began to choke. ‘I promised Niall that I’d see you safely to the hospital,’ he intoned virtuously.
‘Like you never break a promise,’ Rowena snarled, placing the glass of water she’d taken several panicky gulps from down again.
His steady green gaze captured and held her furtive, darting glance. ‘Actually, no, I don’t.’
A slow, steady pulse of heat throbbed through Rowena, infiltrating every individual cell. She could hear the rasp of his voice in her head. ‘You’ll like this, I promise.’ He’d said it more than once before he’d introduced her to a new sensual experience that had reduced her to incoherent, babbling worship. He’d not broken his promise or exaggerated a claim once that night.
‘Some escort you’d be,’ she croaked, trying to fight her way through the sexual thrall. She was pretty sure that it had her staring at him like some sex-starved bimbo. ‘You don’t even know where Gran and Grandpa live.’
‘Actually I do, but I’m having a job getting my tongue around the Gaelic pronunciation. A musical language, but not exactly phonetic.’
The way she recalled it, his tongue could be pretty amazingly dextrous! Rowena, her expression fixed and horrified, barely stifled a groan at this fresh evidence of her moral disintegration.
‘And it wouldn’t really matter if my geographical knowledge of the Highlands was nil, would it? Because we’re not heading for your grandparents’ home.’
Rowena thought it wise to establish pretty quickly, for her own benefit as much as Quinn’s, that there was no we.
‘Precisely. Even I am capable of getting from the airport to the hospital.’
‘You might well be right, but unfortunately it’s not going to be that easy…’
Rowena’s expression grew warily suspicious.
‘The plane’s been diverted to Glasgow. Inverness is closed due to bad weather.’
‘Weather!’ She squinted through the window into the darkness. ‘What weather?’
‘It’s snowing.’
‘They can’t close a whole airport just because of a bit of snow.’ Rowena’s scornful smile wobbled as panic flared hotly through her.
Not only did this mean it would take even longer to reach Gran, but she would be lumbered with Quinn all the way. Being in the confines of a plane cabin with him was bad enough, but a car was way too intimate!
‘I suspect it might be more than a bit, Rowena.’
She rubbed her clenched knuckles across her chin and let her head fall back. ‘This is all I need!’ she groaned.
The lush sweep of Quinn’s long eyelashes concealed his expression as his eyes moved over the exposed pale length of her slender throat.
‘I’ll get you there, Rowena.’ Quinn, who had always considered himself a reasonably law-abiding, honest type of man was vaguely shocked to recognise just how far he’d be prepared to go to fulfil this promise. For Rowena he wouldn’t just bend the rules—he’d break them without a second thought.
Rowena’s head snapped up. ‘Why bother? This is all working out just how you wanted, isn’t it?’ she flung recklessly at him.
Annoyance scored Quinn’s high cheekbones with dark colour as his deep-set eyes found hers.
‘Right now you need to reach your seriously ill grandmother. Do you honestly think I’d welcome seeing that moment delayed when I know how important it is to you?’ His lips thinned in fastidious disgust. ‘What sort of opportunist loser do you take me for, Rowena…?’
Rowena squirmed beneath his penetrating icy glare. ‘Hell,’ she reflected with a shudder, ‘I wouldn’t like to be a medical student you take a dislike to…not that you would take a dislike to anyone, because I’m sure you’re totally objective and impartial and you wouldn’t even dream of abusing your power in such a petty way.’ Studying his face, she couldn’t decide if the faint quiver she saw around his lips was wishful thinking. ‘In case you’re wondering, this is my way of saying sorry…’
When he stared back at her, stony-faced, Rowena gave a grunt of exasperation. ‘For heaven’s sake, I think you can afford to be big about this! Cut me a bit of slack, Quinn. I don’t know what I’m saying right now, I’m so emotionally whacked!’ she admitted wearily.
It would have taken a man with a lot more objectivity than Quinn to remain unmoved by the appeal in those deep blue eyes. ‘Consider the slack cut.’
Rowena heaved a relieved sigh, grateful to see Quinn had finally come down off his high horse. ‘Can’t you do something?’ she asked wistfully.
‘Your faith in my ability is moving, but I have to admit I think you’re overestimating my influence in the weather department.’ He regretted his levity as Rowena, her lips trembling, buried her face in her hands.
‘This is terrible,’ she sobbed. ‘What if I’m too late? What if she is…?’ She stopped, unable to say it, unable to think it!
‘Don’t worry,’ he soothed, stroking her glossy hair. ‘I’ll get you up to Inverness somehow.’
His offer had the opposite effect to that he’d been striving for. Rowena, her body rigid, shot bolt upright. Her brimming eyes were awash with agitated anguish.
‘You can’t…you…you can’t come.’
‘Why?’
‘You don’t even have any suitable clothes,’ she added in the manner of someone desperate to produce a winning argument—the desperation wasn’t feigned.
Her glance automatically dropped. Quinn had removed his jacket during the flight, and she could see the muscle definition of his chest and even get a hint of the dark body hair through the thin cotton of his white T-shirt. The prickle just beneath her skin reached the surface, she felt the heat bloom in her cheeks and squirmed restlessly in her seat.
When she managed to wrench her gaze back up—there was some time lapse here—Quinn was watching her with a pleased, knowing expression on his dark, sexy features that only served to increase the hot flow of blood to her cheeks.
‘I picked up some things at the airport.’
‘You can’t have, you didn’t leave me.’
‘I didn’t need to—I used the services of a very nice airport employee whose sole aim in life is to spend people’s money. I gave the person my size and my requirements and they did the rest.’
Rowena knew instinctively that this person had been female and attractive. ‘I suppose she took your inside leg measurements too,’ she heard herself bitch waspishly. No wonder he looked complacent. Could I sound any more jealous if I tried? she anguished. ‘Silk shirts, ties and socks won’t be much good. This isn’t some soft, safe southern village we’re heading for, this is the north of Scotland in the winter,’ she told him scornfully. ‘And I can get to Inverness myself, thank you very much.’
‘You think you’re more suited to driving in the north of Scotland than I am? As a matter of interest, when was the last time you drove a car, Rowena?’
‘I find public transport convenient. I do!’ she added defiantly as he gave a sceptical snort.
Not getting your licence until the fourth attempt was not that unusual. What was unusual was Rowena not succeeding at something she set her mind to with her usual effortless ease.
‘Besides, there’s enough pollution,’ she added loftily. ‘I’m doing my bit for the environment.’
‘Very public spirited of you.’
‘All right,’ she conceded crossly. ‘I may not like driving, but I’m a very good driver. I’m just careful, is all…’
‘I’m not contesting it,’ he soothed silkily. ‘It’s purely a personal foible of mine, but I get jumpy when the driver of a car I’m a passenger in closes her eyes when manoeuvring past a large lorry.’
‘It was a very narrow bridge.’ And a very big lorry.
‘I’ve seen you drive around a car park for half an hour rather than reverse into a parking space.’
‘Are you eventually going to make a point?’
One dark brow lifted sardonically. ‘I thought I already had.’
Rowena gritted her teeth; she hated his maddening calm. ‘It’s preposterous. I mean, obviously you can’t walk out on your life just because…’
‘You need me?’ He slid a hand behind his head, mussing up his rich dark hair as he settled comfortably back in his seat. ‘Actually, nothing could be easier,’ he announced carelessly.
There was nothing careless or soothing about the burning expression in the green eyes that welded with hers. Rowena clutched nervously at her tight throat as her thundering heart tried to fight its way out of her chest. She cleared her throat; anyone would think she was the sort of woman that got all turned on by all that predatory, possessive macho nonsense!
‘Well, I don’t want you,’ she announced tautly. The last thing she needed was to be even further in his debt. No, relying on Quinn would be a fatal mistake.
Quinn appeared to take her rejection in his stride. ‘Your problem is you don’t know what’s good for you.’
Was he suggesting that he’d be good for her…? This wasn’t a proposition Rowena felt up to challenging.
‘Gran always said that to me too. Like you, she’s big on clichés, but only when she says them…’ For a moment fear, dark and cold, blanked out every other consideration. ‘Do you think…?’ she whispered, her eyes darkening with dread.
Quinn, his expression compassionate, took hold of her hands now tortuously twisted in her lap and chafed the chilly extremities between his. ‘Cold hands, warm heart?’ he suggested.
‘The exception that proves the rule, that’s me,’ Rowena responded, unable to stop her teeth from chattering.
‘You asked me what I think. For what it’s worth, I think it’s useless to speculate on your grandmother’s condition at this point. She’s in the best possible place and she’s being cared for by the best possible people.’
Rowena nodded; what he said made perfect sense. ‘You’re right,’ she conceded. ‘It’s just hard…’ she broke off as the emotional lump in her throat became unmanageable.
‘You’re really fond of your grandparents, aren’t you?’
The note of surprise in his voice brought an angry sparkle to Rowena’s eyes. Aren’t pushy, upwardly mobile bitches allowed to care for their families? she wanted to yell. She snatched her hands from his and pushed her hair back behind her ears. ‘Why should that surprise you?’
‘It doesn’t surprise me, Rowena, though I can think of several people it might surprise. You play your glacial ice-maiden part extremely well.’
Rowena opened her mouth to contest this description then, realising he had a point, shrugged in tired resignation.
‘Tell me about them,’ he urged unexpectedly.
‘Gran and Grandpa?’ Her neatly shaped brows drew together in straight line. ‘Why?’
‘Do you always suspect people’s motives?’ he responded, a hint of exasperation in his tone. ‘I’ve no sinister hidden agenda, Rowena. You need to talk, and I…I want to listen.’
‘Grandpa owned a trawler before he retired.’
‘Fishing is a high-risk profession.’
‘And not a very lucrative one these days. Grandpa’s old boat has been tarted up to take tourists on trips around the Summer Isles these days. Grandpa doesn’t say so but I think he finds that quite sad. Mind you, he doesn’t say much full stop, but he’s always been there for me,’ she added swiftly, just in case Quinn was mistakenly associating strong and silent with strong and unfeeling. ‘He’s unfailingly supportive…never judgemental. A quiet gentle giant.’ Her eyes misted with affection.
‘And your grandmother…?’ Quinn prompted gently.
‘Oh, she’s not quiet, in fact she’s the total opposite to Grandpa, but somehow they are right together, if you know what I mean…?’ She was so involved in her own private reflections that she didn’t see Quinn nod. ‘I just can’t imagine them apart. Gran always encouraged Holly and I to…’ She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. ‘Sorry.’
Quinn pressed a tissue into her hand. ‘They sound great; I’d love to meet them.’
‘Oh, they’d like you,’ she said, enthusiastically, without thinking. Her jaw dropped in almost comical dismay as their eyes met. ‘That is…’ she laughed awkwardly as she lowered her gaze hastily from his ‘…what’s not to like? You’re an adorable sort of guy,’ she joked shakily.
‘That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.’
If she wasn’t careful he might realise how successful he’d been! ‘I don’t usually cry so much…’
‘Your “don’t get mad, get even” policy doesn’t really cover this situation, does it, angel?’
Choked up, Rowena shook her head. ‘Not really. Oh, God!’ She groaned. ‘I should be there. When I think of Gran all alone…’
‘She’s hardly alone, is she?’
‘No, that’s true. Mum and Dad are there, that’s a good thing. Isn’t it?’
‘Of course it is, and Holly and Niall are there too—quite the family gathering.’
Rowena sensed his unspoken question. ‘I was invited. It’s Grandpa’s birthday tomorrow and Holly wanted to show Niall off. I couldn’t justify taking a break…’
If Quinn detected the guilt in her voice he didn’t comment on it.
‘I was surprised to find out about Holly and Niall…’ Quinn’s light comment invited a response, which Rowena didn’t give. If he had been surprised, she’d been shocked rigid by the news that Holly was to marry someone she had always considered one of her own best friends.
It wasn’t as if she grudged her baby sister her happiness, or that she felt she had any particular claims on Niall who, like Quinn, had been her friend since university days—she had been there for him after his first marriage had broken up. It just took some major readjusting, that was all.
Quinn’s watchful eyes remained on her downcast features. ‘It was all a bit quick, wasn’t it?’ He thought he managed to hide his suspicions pretty well under the circumstances—the circumstances being he was highly suspicious of Rowena’s relationship with Niall.
‘They seem very happy,’ Rowena eventually responded carefully.
The lines bracketing Quinn’s strong mouth deepened as his lips tightened. ‘And if you had any doubts, you wouldn’t say so. Being that sour grapes sound so…well, sour.’
Rowena was bewildered by the abrupt change of mood she sensed in him. ‘Meaning what, exactly?’ she gritted dangerously.
‘I always had the impression that you considered you had first refusal on Niall,’ he drawled.
Rowena took a deep, wrathful breath. The problem was, there was a grain of truth in his abominable charge—not that she had ever had a romantic relationship with Niall, nor for that matter had she ever wanted one, but they had been close. Closer probably in their post-student days than she and Quinn had been.
Possibly, Rowena mused, considering the matter in a new light, because there never had been any of the unacknowledged physical attraction between her and Niall that there was between her and Quinn. It was nice to go places with a very attractive man and not have to worry that he’d expect anything at the end of the evening other than stimulating conversation and good coffee.
‘Niall is everything you are not,’ she announced scornfully.
Though experienced in relationships with the opposite sex, Quinn was not experienced in jealousy. It was like an open wound, which he couldn’t help poking even though it hurt. ‘And what am I, Rowena? Other than not being fit to lick Niall’s boots, that is. Is it Niall’s title you begrudge Holly?’
‘Are you trying to insult me?’
‘Did you fancy yourself as part of the landed gentry? Well, marrying Niall would certainly give you that,’ he admitted, reviewing their mutual friend’s blue-blooded background.
‘I never wanted to marry Niall.’
‘Did he ask?’
Rowena flushed angrily.
‘I see he didn’t.’
‘He didn’t ask me to marry him, the same way he never took advantage of our friendship and made a pass at me! Unlike some people I could mention!’
‘Am I being unduly sensitive or was that little jibe aimed at me? If so, I feel obliged to say in my defence that the way I recall it, sweetheart, you were pretty anxious to be taken advantage of,’ he reminded her with unforgivable accuracy.
‘Just for the record, I do not begrudge Holly anything!’ Rowena snapped, finding it hard not to lose her rag totally in the face of extreme provocation.
‘Sure you don’t.’
‘I don’t!’ she bellowed back, unable to take his tolerant contempt any longer. ‘And as for what you are, that’s simple, Quinn. You are the most arrogant, infuriating, manipulative male I’ve ever met—and in case you have any doubts, that wasn’t a compliment!’ she finished, lifting a hand to her hot, sticky brow. ‘I’m stuck with you as far as Glasgow,’ she stormed, ‘but after that I’m going on alone.’
Quinn, unfazed by her animosity, just smiled in that laconic, laid-back, wildly attractive way of his and announced his intention of snatching a few minutes’ sleep. He seemed to drift into a deep, untroubled slumber about two seconds after his eyes closed and, much to her chagrin, stayed that way until the attractive flight attendant woke him to fasten his seat belt.
Their plane was about the last one to land—quite bumpily, as it happened, as the nail marks gouged in Quinn’s hand from where Rowena had gripped it could testify—before the airport ground to a total standstill. The blizzards that had cut off the far north had, it seemed, reached Glasgow.
‘I don’t know why you’re following me,’ Rowena remarked icily to the tall figure at her shoulder.
‘I’m only here as an interested bystander, but should you require my services…’
‘I won’t.’
‘Sorry to keep you waiting, miss,’ the harassed-looking individual behind the car-hire counter apologised. ‘We don’t have a four-wheel drive left…’
Rowena tapped her beautifully manicured nails on the desk. ‘Then what do you have?’ she enquired with barely disguised impatience.
The young man told her.
‘That’ll do.’
‘It’s snowing…’
‘I had noticed.’ The recipient of her abrasive sarcasm flushed and, feeling guilty, Rowena smiled tightly to take the sting out of her words.
The smile only further flustered the young man who shot the intimidatingly beautiful blonde’s companion a look of appeal, but the tall man shrugged and remained silent.
‘Well, actually, the police are advising people who don’t have to make a journey to stay at home…most people are…’
‘I’m not most people, and I do have to make a journey,’ Rowena responded, disguising her increasing sense of urgency behind a cold façade.
‘Well, perhaps you could wait until morning?’ One look from those icy eyes silenced the young man. Clearly unhappy, he dropped the keys into her outstretched palm. ‘How far are you planning to go?’
‘Inverness.’
His eyes widened. ‘You’re joking—right!’
‘If you knew the lady better, you wouldn’t bother asking that.’
Rowena spun around. This wasn’t the first time today Quinn had insinuated she had no sense of humour. She had a great sense of humour!
‘Nobody asked you, Quinn Tyler!’
Quinn regarded her angry face impassively. ‘I can take a hint.’
Rowena laughed bitterly. ‘Since when?’
‘Just remember, keep in the highest gear possible when driving on snow and don’t brake in a skid, steer into it,’ he advised her gravely.
‘I knew that!’ she called after him.
Rowena watched the tall retreating figure and experienced none of the deep sense of relief she should have; she only felt a nasty sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her chin up, she took a deep sustaining breath. She was alone and she would cope, she told herself sternly, just as she always had.
This sense of stubborn optimism lasted until she passed the seventh abandoned vehicle slewed horribly across the road. It was while her attention was distracted by the desolate image that her own car hit a patch of black ice and began to move in the wrong direction. Panic took over—she had no control whatsoever.
Quinn held his breath as the silver Saab ahead went into a dramatic skid—the whole scene was picked up in stomach-churning detail by the light of the taxi’s headlights. He began to breathe again as it came to an abrupt halt on what had once been a grassy verge.
‘How much do I owe you?’ he asked the taxi driver who had been following Rowena’s car at a discreet distance.
The driver named a hair-raising sum. Quinn, who had agreed to paying quadruple the going rate to persuade the reluctant driver to venture out, didn’t blink as he handed over the exorbitant sum.
‘I told you not to brake,’ he shouted above the howl of the wind as he ducked his head inside the car.
Rowena’s first thought was for the baby. Fortunately the only part of her that had suffered from the abrupt stop was her forehead, which had glanced against the windscreen. With a relieved sigh, she pushed back her hair from her face and lifted her head off the steering wheel as a blast of cold air and a flurry of snow hit her.
The dazed expression in her eyes wasn’t entirely due to impact; the brush with danger had released a flood of protective maternal instincts as powerful as they were unanticipated. The baby’s all right, the baby’s all right. Like a record stuck in the groove, the relieved litany kept going around and around in her head.
Blinking, she stared up in disbelief at the tall dynamic figure who had wrenched open the car door. She shivered; the nervous sweat that bathed her body was swiftly growing clammily cold in the icy temperature.
What she wanted to say was, I’m glad to see you! Our baby’s all right. What she actually said, in a crossly accusing tone, was, ‘How did you get here?’
Quinn flung his bag in the back seat. ‘Never mind that, slide over,’ came the terse instruction.
Normally Rowena would have objected in the strongest possible terms to being addressed so peremptorily, only right now she was too stressed out by the nightmare few miles she’d driven to think coherently. Conscious only of a deep sense of relief, she meekly did as Quinn instructed. The noise level of the growling wind was deadened to a dull roar as he closed the door behind him.
‘You’re bleeding,’ he remarked quietly.
‘Am I?’
Quinn’s dark skin tones looked peculiarly pale in the subdued light inside the car. Still dazed, Rowena winced slightly as his long, square-tipped fingers gently probed the bruised area on her temple.
She remained passive during the examination, but her near-death experience didn’t stop her stomach muscles clenching painfully as the enclosed space started to fill up with a warm male, uniquely Quinn fragrance. She lowered her eyes self-consciously and watched the snow melt on the shoulders of his jacket—Quinn had the sort of shoulders that filled out jackets extremely well.
‘It’s only superficial,’ he announced clinically.
‘I think I must have hit my head on the windscreen.’
A muscle in his lean cheek did some unauthorised jumping. ‘You could have killed yourself!’ No clinical objectivity this time!
Rowena recoiled from the white-hot blaze of outrage in his eyes.
‘Well, I didn’t,’ she pointed out mildly. ‘So there’s no point stressing out over what might have happened.’
Their eyes meshed and an explosive sound of frustration escaped from between Quinn’s clenched teeth.
‘You are totally unbelievable. You’re not going to admit you were wrong, are you?’
‘It’s not something I’m good at, but then neither are you,’ she felt impelled to add.
Quinn grunted. ‘I’m driving you to the nearest hotel.’ He lifted his cell phone from his pocket and began to punch in a number. ‘I’ll let Niall know what’s happening. Hell!’ He glared at the inanimate object in his hand. ‘There’s no reception.’
‘Just as well, because I’m not stopping at a hotel. I’m going to Inverness.’
Quinn regarded her set stubborn expression with an expression of frustrated incredulity.
‘I can’t decide if you’re just stubborn or plain stupid.’
‘There’s no need to get offensive.’
He shook his head. ‘You’re not going to do your grandmother or anyone else any good if you manage to get yourself killed, woman. You do realise that, I suppose?’
Rowena did, but the compulsion to reach her grandmother was so strong that it pushed every other consideration to the back of her mind.
It was partly a guilt thing, of course, some objective corner of her mind admitted freely. Her grandfather’s birthday wasn’t the first family occasion she’d missed. If it was too late to make up for all the times she hadn’t made this journey—the times when she’d put her career ahead of family commitment—Rowena knew she’d never be able to live with herself.
Please let me have a second chance, she begged silently. Rowena was all too aware that second chances came along rarely.
‘If you’re too scared to drive me I’ll drop you off at the next service station,’ she declared.
Quinn searched her pale face and saw not an inch of give in her zealot-like determination. He shrugged.
‘If you’ve got a death wish, far be it from me to frustrate you.’

CHAPTER TWO
AS SHE’D gone over the events in her head that had led to their becoming lovers Rowena had tried time after time to work it out, but she hadn’t been able to pinpoint the exact moment that friendship had become something else.
It had begun before her short stint at the New York office, which the powers that be had deemed essential for someone about to take over the running of the London end of the operation. Rowena had needed an escort for a big charity bash and Quinn, who had just accepted a senior post at a major teaching hospital in the city, had stepped in at the last minute.
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t noticed, but after knowing him for so long Rowena took his spectacular looks for granted. The admiring glances he’d received that night, not to mention the envious comments she’d received from friends and acquaintances, had brought home to her just what a gorgeous creature he was.
It had been a good night—no, better than good—Quinn had a way of making his companion feel very special. He was also a great dancer, and an even better conversation-alist—he had a dry wit and a clever tongue that had had her laughing half the night. She’d laughed so much that several acquaintances had commented on the fact, which had made Rowena wonder—for about two seconds—if she didn’t take things a little too seriously as a rule.
‘You were a big hit,’ she told him when he dropped her off at her flat in the early hours. Head against the backrest, she yawned and fished around for the shoes she’d slipped off her aching feet when she’d got into Quinn’s Jaguar.
Quinn inclined his dark head. ‘We aim to please.’
‘So now I know how you manage to captivate all those women.’ Quinn worked hard, but he played hard too. He had a taste for fast cars, motorbikes and beautiful women, but no staying power with the latter as far as Rowena could tell—not that she held this against him.
Perhaps like her he was married to his career, or maybe he hadn’t met the right girl yet…The fleeting thought made her feel vaguely dissatisfied.
‘If I didn’t know you so well,’ she teased him, adjusting the strap on her kitten-heeled sling-back, ‘I might even make a pass at you myself.’
For what felt like a long time he looked at her, his expression enigmatic. ‘Is that all that’s stopping you?’
Rowena’s smile didn’t make it past the starting-post—there was no shadow of humour in his face, just a taut, dangerous expression that made the nerve endings deep inside her stomach tortuously flutter with excitement.
She couldn’t remember what she’d said to fill the awkward lingering silence that had followed, but she knew his contribution had been nil. He’d just sat there and let her babble like an idiot.
One thing she did recall, very well indeed as it happened, was how it had felt when his arm had brushed against her breasts as he’d stretched over to open the car door for her. She had been mortified, not to mention confused, when her nipples had responded instantaneously to the brief contact. She had prayed he hadn’t noticed them thrusting brazenly through the thin fabric of her bodice as she’d slid with a hastily mumbled thank-you from the car.
There had been no legitimate reason to refuse the series of invites that had followed—after all they were friends, and there was nothing wrong, she had told herself, with having a meal with a friend, or going to the theatre. As for walking by the river in the rain, what could be a more innocuous way to spend an evening?
Quinn’s behaviour had given her no cause for complaint; there had been no repeat of that electric moment in the car. No, he had acted like the perfect gentleman despite the fact that she, for some perverse reason, had gone out of her way to recreate the moment—maybe it had been just to convince herself it had actually happened…?
Letting her hand linger longer than strictly necessary on his arm or knee, a lot more eye contact than was normal between them, making sure he’d been able to see her very excellent legs when she’d sat opposite him. Nothing too heavy or obvious; at least that was what she’d thought until one night, sitting in her flat after having been out for dinner, Quinn had bluntly demanded an explanation.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she blustered. ‘I’m not playing at anything.’
He dragged an unsteady hand through his thick hair. ‘Well, whatever that nothing is you’re doing, it’s driving me crazy.’ His green eyes came to rest on her face. ‘You’re driving me crazy.’
‘I am?’ she exclaimed, unable to hide her pleasure. ‘You’d never have known,’ she added with a condemnatory frown.
After a startled moment Quinn began to laugh. It was such a warm, uninhibited sound she couldn’t bring herself to be cross with him.
‘Well, if you must know, I’m quite attracted to you,’ she divulged bluntly. ‘The idea takes some getting used to…’ With a hint of bravado she raised her eyes and saw it was Quinn’s turn to look pleased—and relief rushed through her. It would have been too embarrassing if she’d been reading the wrong messages.
‘I think,’ he replied huskily, ‘that it might be worth the effort.’
Mesmerised by the stark hunger in his darkly lashed eyes, she felt her knees start to tremble. Her heart was battering against her ribcage like a sledgehammer.
He would be an excellent kisser—with a mouth like that how could he not be? she reasoned, allowing her gaze to rest dreamily on that stern, sensual outline. The idea of putting her theory to the test had her literally trembling with anticipation.
‘You don’t think it’s too silly an idea, then,’ she gasped, feeling a bit light-headed with relief—well, maybe relief wasn’t solely responsible for that strange but marvellous floaty feeling.
Quinn took the wilful curve of her jaw in his hand, his fingers stroking the smooth skin of her throat. The touch was so gentle and his strength was so formidable that Rowena found the contrast deeply exciting. ‘Not silly at all,’ he replied.
His deep, husky voice sent tiny shivers up and down her spine. ‘I knew you’d understand—you being not exactly big on the whole commitment thing.’ Rowena was so relieved that she hardly registered the wary expression that flickered into his eyes. ‘I mean, neither of us have the time to lavish on a proper relationship, do we?’ she told him happily. ‘With that whole pet name, flowers, and plans for the future stuff. Most of all the plans for the future,’ she added with a heartfelt shudder. ‘But we all have…needs.’ It was probably ignoring hers that was responsible for her present distracted condition. ‘I think I should be honest with you.’
‘By all means be honest,’ Quinn responded drily.
Rowena nodded, glad they were in accord. Quinn had let go of her chin and she wished he hadn’t. She wondered if it would be quite acceptable for her to take the initiative and touch him…? God, but she wanted to, she thought, her eyes running covetously over his lean frame.
‘Of course I’ve tried sex, but, I’ve got to admit, it wasn’t an unqualified success. To be quite honest,’ she added, the words coming in a rush, ‘I’m terrible at it, but I’m willing to learn.’
She heard the stark sound of his inhalation and wished she’d not been quite so frank, but it was true: sexually she was what was popularly termed frigid. The first time might have been put down to inexperience, but the second time had been a full five years later, and though her lover—an attractive, experienced man she’d liked a lot—had been perfectly polite, she’d been able to tell he’d been in no hurry to repeat the experience, and actually neither had she. Since then she’d been able to channel her energies into her work—until Quinn.
‘Let me get this straight—you want me for sex and nothing else.’
His low, very quiet tone sent a quiver of apprehension up her spine. Anxiously she searched his face but it was impossible to read anything from his enigmatic expression.
‘Well, I wouldn’t put it like that exactly.’
‘Well, I would!’ he yelled suddenly. ‘I’d put it exactly like that. I’ve heard you called callous, Rowena. I’ve heard you called a cold, calculating bitch.’
Rowena flinched. It was a tired old sexist line that she’d heard many times before and it never failed to make her mad as hell—it hadn’t hurt as it did hearing Quinn say it, though. It was nonsense, of course—a man who shared the qualities that made her good at what she did would have been universally admired for his skill, but not her. No, she was female so that automatically made her as hard as nails.
‘And I’ve always stuck up for you, but I’m beginning to see how much you’ve changed since the old days!’ he blazed. ‘Sex isn’t something you schedule like a finance meeting.’
Rowena listened to his diatribe in stunned silence. ‘I didn’t mean…I had no intention of insulting you, I just wanted to be upfront, Quinn.’
‘I’m slow,’ he reflected with a bitter smile, ‘but not that slow. I don’t need a diagram to tell me what you want.’ At some level he was aware that he was overreacting—after all, he’d been propositioned before.
Quinn’s scornful sneer reawakened her temper. ‘I have to tell you, Quinn, I find all this righteous outrage at being treated like a sex object just a tad hypocritical coming from you of all people. I mean, a man with a track record like yours hardly screams commitment, does he? Or don’t you like it when someone turns the table on you? The way you’re going on anyone would think you wanted a serious relationship or something…’ She saw his face and her eyes widened. ‘Good god!’ she gasped, horrified. ‘You didn’t, did you…?’ She laughed in what was pure nervous disbelief, but he could hardly be expected to know that.
‘I’ve been accused of being shallow in my time…’ His voice had dropped to a soft, menacing whisper, but Rowena was in no mood to be intimidated.
‘I can’t imagine why,’ she muttered belligerently.
The glacial flicker of his long-lashed eyes silenced her. ‘But it would seem I’m an amateur compared to you.’
‘The way I hear it you get by,’ she retorted childishly.
‘Then maybe you hear it wrong,’ he cut back in a chilly voice. ‘I may not be able to match your clinical objectivity, but I’m not totally unrealistic. I accept that some relationships are never going to go anywhere, but they’re fun anyway. I’ve been there and done that, but not as often as you seem to think.’
Rowena hardly noticed this dry postscript; she was too busy dwelling on the lurid images drifting around in her head of Quinn having fun. She actually felt quite unwell—she’d had doubts about that lobster.
‘Part of the excitement of entering a relationship is not knowing where it’s going.’
Diverted by this peculiar viewpoint, Rowena forgot momentarily about the sick churning in her stomach. Personally Rowena always liked to know exactly where she was going.
‘The exploration,’ Quinn expanded forcibly. ‘The wondering whether it might lead somewhere, whether she might be the one.’
Rowena’s jaw dropped—it was something of a revelation to learn that Quinn believed there was such a thing as the one. Let alone discover he was actively looking for her. Boy, had she got Quinn wrong—the man was a romantic!
‘With you there would be no wondering, we’d both know exactly where we were going—nowhere!’ he continued.
Rowena’s chin came up. She didn’t much care for that combination of pity and contempt on his face. It was pretty obvious there was no point suggesting they went nowhere together.
‘Let’s call it crossed wires,’ she suggested with an easy-come, easy-go shrug. Rowena had her pride and she didn’t want him to guess how disappointed, mortified and frustrated she was by his rejection.
His own shrug was just as untroubled and dismissive.
Dragging her thoughts kicking and screaming back to the present, Rowena slid a wary, half-defiant look in the direction of her staff.
Their expressions were respectful enough now but Rowena wasn’t fool enough to imagine that this situation would last for two seconds once she was out of the door. She hadn’t gained her hard-nosed, cool-headed reputation by accident and now in two seconds flat she’d blown her cover wide open.
‘Happy? Hardly,’ she snapped venomously, fixing Quinn with a look of loathing. ‘Well, if you’ll excuse us, Quinn was just leaving.’ Clinging to the tattered shreds of her dignity and trying to show she was still in charge, Rowena shoved Quinn’s jacket at him and nodded imperiously in the direction of the door.
‘So soon,’ Quinn bemoaned sarcastically, throwing his jacket casually over his shoulder. ‘We hadn’t even started talking money yet.’ He waved casually to the three watching women as Rowena, seething with exasperation, grabbed him by the arm.
‘That would be right!’ Rowena flared contemptuously—God, why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut? ‘You always did have your eye on the big bucks, Quinn. Why else go in for plastic surgery?’
‘Perhaps I thought I could make a difference,’ he suggested mildly.
Rowena sniffed, unwilling to admit even to herself that her accusation of avarice had been out of line, not to mention totally inaccurate.
Quinn was considered a world expert in facial reconstructive surgery and, though he did make big money from the high-profile clients who sought him out, Rowena knew he didn’t restrict his expertise to those who could pay for it. The vast bulk of his workload was, and always had been, within the NHS, even though he could have made much more by working exclusively in the private sector. Not that money mattered to Quinn, coming as he did from a wealthy, privileged background.
‘Three-thirty in my office, Sylvia!’ Rowena called, putting a bold face on her unorthodox departure.
The three women exchanged glances as the door closed.
‘I knew I recognised his name…’ Anna cried. ‘He did Lexie Lamont’s new nose, so they say, and I saw him on that telly programme last month—the one about that teenager who got hit in the face by a jet ski.’
Sylvia nodded. ‘I saw it; the girl got all choked up every time she talked about him.’
‘Small wonder!’ Anna exclaimed. ‘Did you see the before picture? She mashed just about every bone in her face to pulp—all he had to go on when he rebuilt it were pictures.’
‘There’s no mistake, then, he’s really a doctor. I suppose it’s lucky we didn’t send the others home,’ her assistant reflected.
A naughty grin appeared on Sylvia’s pretty face. ‘Is it just me or do you get the impression boss lady isn’t too keen on sharing…?’
The explosive sound of laughter was clearly audible to Rowena as she stalked, head held high, from the crowded ante-room crowded with leather-clad clones.
‘I hope you’re satisfied now!’ she gritted to Quinn.
‘Don’t fret, Rowena, I’m sure your ice-cold bitch image can survive worse than this.’
‘I hate you!’ If that were true, how it would simplify matters.
‘I can live with that,’ he lied, increasing his pace to keep up with her. ‘It’s being ignored I’m not so comfortable with,’ he concluded grimly.
‘I’ve heard of men who turn to stalking when they get given the push, but I never thought you’d be one of them, Quinn. If only I’d known then what I know now…’ As if it would have made any difference, a self-derisive voice-over in her head insisted on supplementing.
‘I haven’t been given the push.’
Rowena came to an abrupt halt in front of her PA’s desk. Hands planted on her hips, she swung around, causing her silver-blonde hair to bell around her face before settling down into the loosely tendrilled nape-length style she’d recently adopted.
‘Consider yourself pushed, Quinn.’
Quinn smiled. ‘Like hell I will!’ Ignoring her loudly voiced protests, he placed his hand against her chest and thrust her through the open door of her office. ‘Hold all Ms Parrish’s calls,’ he instructed the startled-looking young woman behind the desk.
‘Call Security, Bernice!’ Rebecca yelled shrilly just before Quinn kicked the door closed. ‘I suppose you think this ridiculous caveman act is impressive!’ she jeered, retreating to the other side of her large desk—the symbol of her authority. Unfortunately it didn’t afford her that warm, in-charge feeling it normally did.
‘If you think spending just one night with me entitles you to behave like this you’re sadly mistaken, not to mention living in the wrong century. As for taking off your clothes—I’m not even going to ask!’ she choked, her nose wrinkling in disgust at the thought of Quinn parading half naked in front of the other women. ‘If I hadn’t come in when I did, heaven knows how far you’d have gone!’
‘And you don’t like that idea?’ Quinn didn’t sound as though her disgust displeased him.
It made her feel sick to the stomach. ‘I hate to spoil your pathetic male fantasies of women fighting over you, but I simply don’t like the idea of you wasting my staff’s time. We have deadlines to meet, you know. How would you like it if I smuggled myself into your hospital and tried to pass myself off as a nurse?’
‘Give me a minute here, I’m just picturing you…Does the uniform have one of those cute frilly caps?’ Rowena didn’t have time to respond to this outrageous piece of sexism before his languid air of mockery vanished, revealing the sort of penetrative expression that made her nostalgic for his irritating mockery of seconds before. ‘What the hell have you been doing to yourself, Rowena?’ He sat down on the edge of her desk and stretched his long legs out in front of him.
‘I had my hair cut.’
‘That’s not what I mean. You’ve lost weight.’
‘Thank you.’
Her hips had always been the envy of her more amply endowed friends, but losing almost a stone in weight during the past few weeks meant that the short skirt she was wearing today no longer clung to her hips, but hung loosely.
‘You look terrible.’
In case I hadn’t got the point, she thought caustically.
‘You don’t lose that sort of weight so quickly unless you’re ill or under a lot of pressure,’ he announced authoritatively.
Her glance slid evasively from his. Did morning sickness count as being ill? ‘Well, thanks for the medical assessment, Doctor, but I’m neither. It’s just too many late nights, and no time to eat.’
‘In fact life’s just one long party.’ He didn’t bother hiding his scepticism.
‘Absolutely,’ she maintained defiantly.
‘Which no doubt accounts for you ignoring my e-mails and phone calls—although that isn’t a problem now, is it? Not since you had all your numbers changed and went ex-directory.’ Rowena watched with an irritated frown as he began to mess up the row of pencils laid out symmetrically on her desk. Looking at his long, clever fingers brought a sudden rush of memories, his fingers dark against her pale breasts. His fingers sliding between…
Rowena caught her full lower lip between her teeth. She resented the fact he was making her behave guiltily. ‘That was pure coincidence,’ she announced with stilted defiance.
He lifted his head, and from beneath the sweep of inky dark lashes looked enquiringly across at her. ‘And is it coincidence that had me made persona non grata at your apartment building?’
Rowena had a firm policy of ignoring things she couldn’t deny and she did so now with a careless toss of her fair head. ‘I’ve only just got back, Quinn. New York was hectic.’ She wished straight off she hadn’t mentioned New York.
She thought of New York and, unlike normal people who had spent any time there, she didn’t associate with the vibrant, alive, noisy, scary, exciting place it was. No, Rowena immediately associated it with Quinn, incredible sex and the frightening consequences of the latter…
‘What about the weekend you came home?’
‘You knew about that?’ Startled, she glanced up to see an expression she couldn’t quite place on his face.
‘Wasn’t I meant to?’
‘It was no secret.’ Recovering a little composure, Rowena managed to continue in a persuasively reasonable tone. ‘I’ve just started a new job. I’ve hardly had time to make contact with every casual acquaintance I have.’ She gulped, but the sound was drowned out by the sibilant hiss of his indrawn breath.
Oh, God, that had come out all wrong and then some…!
‘Casual acquaintance,’ he said very softly and deadly silkily. Then, even softer, ‘Casual acquaintance. Tell me, Rowena, how do you say hello to people you know quite well?’
She closed her eyes as an image appeared in her mind’s eye of herself walking down the crowded New York street three months ago, surrounded by a seething mass of humanity. Maybe it had been the mild culture shock of moving to another city where she knew nobody, or maybe it had been the stress of proving herself, but she had never felt so alone in her life.
Then she’d seen him. She hadn’t even needed to get a proper look at that unmistakable profile—his innately elegant, long-legged stride would have been sufficient proof. Two men in the world couldn’t move that way. Without thinking she had barged through the people separating them, breaking every rule of pedestrian etiquette and probably bruising a few shins to get to him.
Waving her bag above her head, she’d shrieked his name like a demented banshee until she’d been hoarse. She’d almost been at his shoulder when he’d finally turned around and Rowena, her face flushed, breathing hard, had come to an abrupt halt.
Shock of recognition in his eyes had morphed into hot desire. An answering desire had shimmered hot and liquid through her.
‘You’re here,’ she said stupidly. ‘I can’t believe it.’
And then he kissed her.
‘Convinced now?’ he asked, when he lifted his head.
Rowena stared dizzily up into his face unable to focus properly—unable to do anything much except stare at him.
The native New Yorkers, a tolerant bunch and not easily surprised, had parted around the embracing couple.
‘I always knew you’d be a good kisser, you’ve got such a beautiful mouth.’ Her hands, pressed flat against the hard surface of his chest, felt his responsive rumble of laughter.
He continued to display his proficiency at kissing in the taxi, then in the lift going up to his hotel room. The kissing didn’t stop once the door had closed behind them but other things started, things she couldn’t even think about without blushing.
Hurtling back into the present, Rowena was still faced with Quinn’s anger at being called a casual acquaintance. ‘You caught me at a weak moment,’ she defended herself.
‘There was no catching involved—the way I recall it you did the running.’ He reached across and touched her chin with his forefinger.
‘And you wonder why I’ve been avoiding you,’ she said, jerking her chin away from his grip.
‘I thought that was all in my mind.’ Quinn spun around on the smooth surface of the desk until his legs were the wrong side of it—her side.
‘I knew it would be like this,’ she muttered, grabbing two handfuls of silvery fair hair and shaking her head from side to side. ‘I thought you understood New York was a mistake, not the start of something.’ Nothing that she had any intention of telling him about just now, anyhow.
‘The only mistake I made was allowing you to persuade me to leave.’
Rowena’s heart dropped as far as her narrow, expensively shod feet. His inflexible tone and grim expression suggested that he was about to compensate for that mistake.
She closed her eyes, incredibly frustrated by his unyielding, downright mule-headed attitude. ‘Talking to you is like…like talking to that wall!’
Which, if things went on like this, she’d be doing in next to no time. She could see it now—crazy fashion editor carted away by the men in white coats. How her enemies would love that…another fast-track hot shot hits the dust!
‘You want me,’ he insisted.
At least this was one subject he didn’t have any doubts about—he couldn’t be in the same room as her without knowing that Rowena craved his touch just as much as he did hers. This knowledge only increased his frustration. Hell, the sizzling, sexually fuelled static between them was nothing short of a fire hazard!
Rowena glared at him for about twenty seconds before her defiance deserted her. ‘That’s as maybe,’ she conceded, concentrating hard on controlling her wildly fluctuating complexion—women in her position did not blush like schoolgirls; neither did they ache inside the way she did.
Quinn’s grin had a worryingly predatory look to it.
‘No maybe about it.’
A small shrug of her slender shoulders conceded his cocky claim. ‘You’ve only yourself to blame—laying down rules and conditions,’ she brooded darkly. ‘Whatever happened to spontaneity and free love?’ She quivered, working herself into a resentful lather as she contemplated her bad luck. She’d found the lover of her dreams—a man not noted for his steadfast devotion—and he had to get all moralistic and possessive on her.
‘Free love?’ Quinn mused. ‘I’m trying to see you as a flower child, but it’s not easy,’ he admitted.
‘You’re nothing but a reformed rake!’ The old-fashioned term seemed to suit him oddly well—he definitely had the legs for tight-fitting Regency breeches as well.
Quinn’s lips quivered at this hot accusation. ‘Just for the record, in my book spontaneity is good, but you get nothing for free. You’ll have to learn to live with the fact I’m not available on a casual, nocturnal basis only. There are people who provide such services, I believe—for a price!’
Her hand flashed out but Quinn’s reflexes were faster. Rowena found her wrist enclosed in a steely grip. Feet braced on the floor, he drew her in between the confines of his iron-hard muscular thighs as he pulled her hand back down to her side, clicking his tongue in mocking disapproval.
‘I want to be part of your life, Rowena—an integral part.’ Rowena stopped struggling, at least physically. Her inner conflict was less easily subdued! Their eyes meshed and she instantly got herself lost in his sea green gaze. ‘I’ve no interest in the sort of hole-in-the-corner affair you were suggesting in New York.’
‘Private is not the same as sordid.’ Most men would have been flattered by the sort of civilised arrangement she had offered him—no complications, no emotional dramas.
‘I’m not good at subterfuge.’
Rowena’s bosom swelled with incredulous indignation. ‘There speaks the man who’d just conned his way into this building!’
‘If you hadn’t been so unreasonable I wouldn’t have needed to resort to less than open tactics.’
‘Dirty tactics, you mean,’ she retorted, pulling her wrist free from his grip and waving an admonitory finger in front of his nose. ‘We both know that when you want something there’s just about nothing you won’t do!’ she snapped furiously.
Quinn gazed levelly back at her, not the least disturbed by her heated indictment. He reached forward and ran a finger slowly down the soft curve of her cheek, his piercing eyes darkening as she flinched back as if burnt.
‘And at the moment I want you…’
Her angry flush faded with dramatic abruptness leaving Rowena marble pale. Her breath emerged as a shaky tremulous gasp. Where was the scornful put-down when she needed one?
‘Is that meant to be some sort of turn-on? Well, I’ve got news for you…’ It worked extremely well. ‘Your problem is you like everyone to know about your trophy girlfriends,’ she jeered hoarsely. ‘It makes you feel the big man to see yourself plastered all over the gossip columns.’
‘I think that’s slight exaggeration, Rowena, I barely rate a couple of lines in Country Life.’
‘Your false modesty makes me sick.’
‘You’ll get used to the idea, you know,’ he promised.
‘What idea?’
‘The idea of being part of a couple.’
‘And if I don’t?’
‘You don’t have any choice, angel.’
‘How do you figure that one?’
‘You need me.’
Rowena gasped. His arrogance was simply unbelievable! ‘Have you always been delusional?’
His expression abruptly softened as he assimilated the torment in her wide-spaced eyes. ‘You need me, about as much as I need you. See, I can do it, and I’ve had as little practice at it as you have. It hardly hurts at all to admit it. I’m going to teach you to say it,’ he promised.
Eyes wide with horror and lips clamped defiantly shut, she shook her head vigorously from side to side.
‘We’ll see, shall we?’
There was no challenge in his statement, just total, complete conviction—whether this conviction stemmed from a misplaced notion that she was female and therefore weak and malleable, or a belief in his own ability to bend anything or anyone to his will, Rowena didn’t know. She did know a challenge would have been much easier to deal with.
Rowena wanted to put him right, but she felt strangely disinclined to do anything, move, speak, breathe even—perhaps it had something to do with the almost narcotic quality of the combination of his level, deep voice and the sexily slumbrous gleam in his eyes.
‘I did knock, Rowena…’ Her PA’s tentative voice made Rowena start.
‘Yes, Bernice?’ she responded, putting as much clear space rapidly between herself and Quinn as was possible. Her mind wasn’t functioning with its usual clarity, but at least she wasn’t staring up at him like a hypnotised rabbit screaming ‘eat me’ any longer.
This was one of the reasons she hadn’t wanted to see him. He walked in a room and her wits flew out the nearest window, which made no sense! Rowena had experienced sexual attraction before and stayed firmly in charge of her feelings at every level—the person involved only knew about it if she wanted him to. With Quinn she didn’t have that luxury, she was clumsy, inarticulate and painfully needy.
‘There’s a call from your sister and she says it’s urgent…’
Rowena frowned. Holly had taken her new fiancé up to Scotland to show him off to their elderly grandparents who lived in a remote part of the country called Wester Ross.
‘Fine, I’ll take it, Bernice,’ Rowena replied to her normally discreet assistant who was shooting surreptitious looks in Quinn’s direction.
The young woman withdrew, blushing, when Quinn smiled at her.
‘Holly, it’s me…do you mind? This is private!’ she hissed, covering the mouthpiece and glaring across at Quinn.
‘Say hello to Holly for me,’ he requested, unperturbed by her hostility as he strolled to the far end of the room and began to read the titles on the spines of the files that filled the shelves there.
‘What? Yes, it is Quinn. No…yes, he is here. It doesn’t matter, I’ll explain later. What’s wro—?’ Rowena grew silent as her sister broke into impetuous speech the other end of the line.
Rowena had her back turned to him, but Quinn could almost feel her distress as the slim, supple line of her back grew tense. Her next faltering exclamation confirmed his suspicions—Holly didn’t have good news.
‘Oh, God, no!’ Rowena raised her hand to her mouth, compressing the quivering line of her lips—not Gran!
The image of Elspeth Frazer floated before her eyes. Five feet nothing with rosy cheeks, startling blue eyes and snow-white hair, she could have come straight from the glossy illustrations in a book of fairy tales. The illusion of a cosy grandmother was shattered the instant Elspeth opened her mouth. The octogenarian had never suffered fools gladly and, not only did she have a bawdy sense of humour, she possessed a will of iron.
Elspeth had been a consultant paediatrician in the early fifties, when women consultants had been very few and far between. Rowena had left Holly to follow in Gran’s footsteps and become a doctor, but nonetheless Elspeth Frazer had been her own inspiration, the person she thought of when the going got tough. Rowena could never understand how a woman like her grandmother, who had fought so hard to get where she wanted, had turned her back on everything and buried herself in general practice in the back of beyond. She’d eventually asked.
‘Why, I saw your grandfather, my dear, and I loved him.’
Perplexed, a much younger Rowena had asked, ‘Well couldn’t he have come to live in the City?’
‘He could, but he’d have been unhappy.’
‘Well, I’d never do that for a man!’
‘We’ll see…’
Rowena heard the familiar soft accent in her head and her eyes filled with tears. She blinked back the moisture and forced herself to ask the thing she didn’t want to.
‘Is she…? Do they think…? Don’t cry, Holly, and don’t get too technical,’ she pleaded as her doctor sister began to go into details about the suspected stroke that their grandmother had suffered that morning.
She wasn’t aware that Quinn was beside her until she felt the warm imprint of his hand on her shoulder. No matter what the state of their personal relationship, she wasn’t about to reject his support. Rowena was proud, but not stupid—Quinn was the sort of man whom people automatically turned to in a crisis.
She made no objection as he slid a chair under her shaky legs and urged her gently down into it.
She held the receiver a little way from her ear. ‘She’s crying again.’ She gulped, raising tear-filled eyes to his face. ‘Holly never cries,’ she added, her own lower lip quivering madly.
‘Let me have it.’
Rowena relinquished the phone without a second thought. For once she didn’t resent Quinn’s air of calm authority.
‘Hello, Holly, sweetheart, it’s Quinn,’ she heard him say warmly to her sister. ‘Yes, I know, but…is Niall there? Good, put him on. Hi, Niall, it’s Quinn.’
Rowena, her head in her hands, could hear the male rumble as Holly’s fiancé responded at length. Quinn didn’t interrupt him. ‘Yes, I get the picture. It’ll be quicker if we fly up. Can you organise some transport from Inverness? Right, I’ll ring when I’ve got more details.’
CHAPTER THREE
ROWENA woke up, and for several horrid moments experienced total amnesia. It didn’t last long, but realising where she was, with whom and, worst of all, why was no less horrid than the original empty void.
She stretched sleepily in the confined space. There was a dull ache behind her eyes and her stiff limbs felt as though she hadn’t moved in an age. A glance at her watch revealed this wasn’t far off the truth; they couldn’t be far off Inverness.
‘You’re awake.’
The soft drawl somewhere east of her right ear was extremely welcome, not that she had any intention of allowing her travelling companion to see just how welcome. ‘Very obviously.’ Rowena raised a hand to cover her yawn as she adjusted her seat from its reclining position. Someone, she noticed, had placed a blanket over her while she’d slept. Had it been Quinn? The thought made her throat feel achey and tight. God, this has to stop, she rebuked herself sharply. Carry on broadcasting emotional and vulnerable signals like these and they’ll pick them up in the Shetlands, girl!
‘How are you feeling?’ With raised brows Quinn took in her aggressive frown. ‘Other than grouchy.’
‘I’m not grouchy.’
Was she particularly shallow? Or was it normal to fret stupidly about trivial matters like the fact your hair was sticking up and your eyeshadow had probably run when you were on a mission that should, and did, take precedence over everything else? How was there room in her head, given her anxiety levels over Gran, to take on board the fact that Quinn looked overpoweringly virile and as vital and energetic as she felt jaded and weary?
‘And I feel perfectly fine.’ It occurred to her that she ought to be displaying more gratitude than she was, considering what he had done for her. ‘Thank you,’ she added awkwardly.
There was no polite way of putting it—she had fallen apart! It was still kind of shocking to accept that this had happened—maybe if Quinn hadn’t been there she would have pulled herself together and done what needed to be done…. Perhaps it was the security of having someone she trusted to take care of her and the situation that had enabled her to temporarily relinquish her iron control.
Her blue eyes fluttered wide with amazement; she did trust Quinn—utterly! When, she wondered, had that happened? Aware of his questioning regard, she lowered her eyes abruptly and began to fold the discarded blanket, her slim fingers trembling slightly as she fussed, lining the corners up with meticulous precision.
It was herself she didn’t trust! If she allowed sexual attraction to dictate her actions, Rowena knew she wouldn’t be doing either of them any favours. Quinn deserved a woman who could give him the things he probably didn’t even know he wanted yet. Things like a home—not just four walls and a roof, but a real home. There would be babies, of course—babies!
Talk about catch-22, she thought, resisting the impulse to place her hands protectively over her belly. Is this really me feeling wistful over a dewy-eyed version of domestic bliss…? She shook her head—this had to stop before she started listening to that voice in her head that kept saying a child needed two parents.
You couldn’t make a decision on the basis of physical attraction. If she did that she might even, in a moment of weakness and self-delusion, convince herself she could provide what Quinn wanted. The result would be disaster—she’d end up resenting him from stopping her doing what she wanted to do in her career, and in turn he’d resent her because she wouldn’t be able to put him first. Quinn was a man who needed to be put first.
‘I didn’t mean to fall asleep.’
His eyes skimmed her delicately flushed face. ‘No problem,’ he responded easily.
‘I’m not used to drinking brandy in the middle of the day.’ Actually she wasn’t used to drinking it at any time, which was why the tiny amount she’d had had gone straight to her head. The stuff Quinn had discovered in her kitchen cupboard had been for culinary purposes only up to that afternoon.
‘I’d say you’re not used to drinking much any time,’ Quinn mused with his usual perception. ‘But you make a fairly amiable drunk.’
Maybe she was being paranoid, but it seemed to Rowena that his expression hinted at some private joke. She just hoped she hadn’t said or done anything too awful or disastrously revealing when she was being amiable.
‘I’m sorry about the fuss with Security…’ Fuss was a pretty mild way of putting it. It was ironic, really—normally she would have applauded their stubborn attempts to detach her from Quinn.
It had actually taken Rowena some time to convince the suspicious employees anxious to do their duty that a kidnap was not in progress. She closed her eyes, mortified to even think about that terrible scene when they’d attempted to leave the magazine offices.
Give it twenty-four hours and the already juicy tale would have been embellished beyond recognition.
‘Bernice is a bit overprotective.’
‘So I gathered,’ Quinn responded drily.
‘You did have…’ Rowena felt her colour rise but doggedly she continued ‘…your arm around me.’ She saw no reason to remind him or herself how hard she had been clinging to it!
‘Kidnapping seems a pretty drastic leap to make.’
‘Well, she did see us arguing,’ she reminded him in Bernice’s defence. ‘And I’m not normally the sort of person who goes around leaning on…anyone.’
‘I’m touched you made an exception in my case.’
Rowena hardly noticed his wry interjection. ‘I can’t believe I just walked out like that.’
‘You were in shock.’
Rowena’s expression made it clear that shock was a poor excuse in her eyes for deserting her post.
‘What will people think?’
‘Do you care?’
‘Of course I care, this is my professional reputation we’re talking about.’ Somehow she doubted if Quinn would be quite so laid back if it were his job they were discussing. ‘And in my business,’ she told him grimly, ‘there’s always someone willing to stab you in the back.’
‘Perhaps we should ask them to turn the plane around.’
‘Don’t patronise me, Quinn!’ she flared. ‘I want to go to see Gran, of course I do. I just wish I’d been thinking straight. I should at least have had the common courtesy to explain to Bernice, she would have cancelled my appointments…’ She frowned, trying to recall her busy schedule for the next few days.
‘Well, it’s not too late, is it?’ he pointed out practically. ‘And if you’re fretting about working I did pack your laptop.’
Rowena could have done without this reminder that, not only had Quinn arranged a private flight, treating the whole procedure as though it were no different from hiring a car, when he’d discovered that there were no seats available on the scheduled departures, but he had also packed her clothes too.
Anaesthetised by the small glass of brandy he had forced between her bloodless lips, she had watched him from her cross-legged position on her bed, occasionally shouting instructions in what she seemed to recall had been a loud and stroppy tone.
‘Not those pants, decorative but far too uncomfortable!’ she’d explained as he’d pulled out a racy-looking thong from her knicker drawer to add to the clothes crammed in her case.
The memory made her groan and clutch her head.
‘Could you do with a coffee?’ her attentive escort asked.
Escort…hell! Quinn on escort duty meant hours and hours of contact, and far too much opportunity for her to let things slip…It was nothing short of miraculous that she hadn’t so far!
The last shreds of muddled sleepiness left her as, galvanised into action, she shot upright, and, discovering there was nowhere much to go, sat down again with a bump.
‘You can’t come to Scotland!’ she exclaimed in an anguished tone. She really must have been out of it earlier to have let him get on the plane with her!
‘Short of parachuting I’ve not much option at this point.’
‘Obviously you’ll be flying straight back.’
Quinn looked down into her worried face and smiled—but it wasn’t a comforting sort of smile.
‘I promised Niall—’
Rowena’s expression hardened. What was this, some male conspiracy. ‘Niall had no right to ask you anything. I don’t need a minder!’
A lick of flame appeared in his eyes as they stilled on her angry face. ‘No, you need a lover of the live-in variety!’ Then he smiled benignly and patted her on the back as she began to choke. ‘I promised Niall that I’d see you safely to the hospital,’ he intoned virtuously.
‘Like you never break a promise,’ Rowena snarled, placing the glass of water she’d taken several panicky gulps from down again.
His steady green gaze captured and held her furtive, darting glance. ‘Actually, no, I don’t.’
A slow, steady pulse of heat throbbed through Rowena, infiltrating every individual cell. She could hear the rasp of his voice in her head. ‘You’ll like this, I promise.’ He’d said it more than once before he’d introduced her to a new sensual experience that had reduced her to incoherent, babbling worship. He’d not broken his promise or exaggerated a claim once that night.
‘Some escort you’d be,’ she croaked, trying to fight her way through the sexual thrall. She was pretty sure that it had her staring at him like some sex-starved bimbo. ‘You don’t even know where Gran and Grandpa live.’
‘Actually I do, but I’m having a job getting my tongue around the Gaelic pronunciation. A musical language, but not exactly phonetic.’
The way she recalled it, his tongue could be pretty amazingly dextrous! Rowena, her expression fixed and horrified, barely stifled a groan at this fresh evidence of her moral disintegration.
‘And it wouldn’t really matter if my geographical knowledge of the Highlands was nil, would it? Because we’re not heading for your grandparents’ home.’
Rowena thought it wise to establish pretty quickly, for her own benefit as much as Quinn’s, that there was no we.
‘Precisely. Even I am capable of getting from the airport to the hospital.’
‘You might well be right, but unfortunately it’s not going to be that easy…’
Rowena’s expression grew warily suspicious.
‘The plane’s been diverted to Glasgow. Inverness is closed due to bad weather.’
‘Weather!’ She squinted through the window into the darkness. ‘What weather?’
‘It’s snowing.’
‘They can’t close a whole airport just because of a bit of snow.’ Rowena’s scornful smile wobbled as panic flared hotly through her.
Not only did this mean it would take even longer to reach Gran, but she would be lumbered with Quinn all the way. Being in the confines of a plane cabin with him was bad enough, but a car was way too intimate!
‘I suspect it might be more than a bit, Rowena.’
She rubbed her clenched knuckles across her chin and let her head fall back. ‘This is all I need!’ she groaned.
The lush sweep of Quinn’s long eyelashes concealed his expression as his eyes moved over the exposed pale length of her slender throat.
‘I’ll get you there, Rowena.’ Quinn, who had always considered himself a reasonably law-abiding, honest type of man was vaguely shocked to recognise just how far he’d be prepared to go to fulfil this promise. For Rowena he wouldn’t just bend the rules—he’d break them without a second thought.
Rowena’s head snapped up. ‘Why bother? This is all working out just how you wanted, isn’t it?’ she flung recklessly at him.
Annoyance scored Quinn’s high cheekbones with dark colour as his deep-set eyes found hers.
‘Right now you need to reach your seriously ill grandmother. Do you honestly think I’d welcome seeing that moment delayed when I know how important it is to you?’ His lips thinned in fastidious disgust. ‘What sort of opportunist loser do you take me for, Rowena…?’
Rowena squirmed beneath his penetrating icy glare. ‘Hell,’ she reflected with a shudder, ‘I wouldn’t like to be a medical student you take a dislike to…not that you would take a dislike to anyone, because I’m sure you’re totally objective and impartial and you wouldn’t even dream of abusing your power in such a petty way.’ Studying his face, she couldn’t decide if the faint quiver she saw around his lips was wishful thinking. ‘In case you’re wondering, this is my way of saying sorry…’
When he stared back at her, stony-faced, Rowena gave a grunt of exasperation. ‘For heaven’s sake, I think you can afford to be big about this! Cut me a bit of slack, Quinn. I don’t know what I’m saying right now, I’m so emotionally whacked!’ she admitted wearily.
It would have taken a man with a lot more objectivity than Quinn to remain unmoved by the appeal in those deep blue eyes. ‘Consider the slack cut.’
Rowena heaved a relieved sigh, grateful to see Quinn had finally come down off his high horse. ‘Can’t you do something?’ she asked wistfully.
‘Your faith in my ability is moving, but I have to admit I think you’re overestimating my influence in the weather department.’ He regretted his levity as Rowena, her lips trembling, buried her face in her hands.
‘This is terrible,’ she sobbed. ‘What if I’m too late? What if she is…?’ She stopped, unable to say it, unable to think it!
‘Don’t worry,’ he soothed, stroking her glossy hair. ‘I’ll get you up to Inverness somehow.’
His offer had the opposite effect to that he’d been striving for. Rowena, her body rigid, shot bolt upright. Her brimming eyes were awash with agitated anguish.
‘You can’t…you…you can’t come.’
‘Why?’
‘You don’t even have any suitable clothes,’ she added in the manner of someone desperate to produce a winning argument—the desperation wasn’t feigned.
Her glance automatically dropped. Quinn had removed his jacket during the flight, and she could see the muscle definition of his chest and even get a hint of the dark body hair through the thin cotton of his white T-shirt. The prickle just beneath her skin reached the surface, she felt the heat bloom in her cheeks and squirmed restlessly in her seat.
When she managed to wrench her gaze back up—there was some time lapse here—Quinn was watching her with a pleased, knowing expression on his dark, sexy features that only served to increase the hot flow of blood to her cheeks.
‘I picked up some things at the airport.’
‘You can’t have, you didn’t leave me.’
‘I didn’t need to—I used the services of a very nice airport employee whose sole aim in life is to spend people’s money. I gave the person my size and my requirements and they did the rest.’
Rowena knew instinctively that this person had been female and attractive. ‘I suppose she took your inside leg measurements too,’ she heard herself bitch waspishly. No wonder he looked complacent. Could I sound any more jealous if I tried? she anguished. ‘Silk shirts, ties and socks won’t be much good. This isn’t some soft, safe southern village we’re heading for, this is the north of Scotland in the winter,’ she told him scornfully. ‘And I can get to Inverness myself, thank you very much.’
‘You think you’re more suited to driving in the north of Scotland than I am? As a matter of interest, when was the last time you drove a car, Rowena?’
‘I find public transport convenient. I do!’ she added defiantly as he gave a sceptical snort.
Not getting your licence until the fourth attempt was not that unusual. What was unusual was Rowena not succeeding at something she set her mind to with her usual effortless ease.
‘Besides, there’s enough pollution,’ she added loftily. ‘I’m doing my bit for the environment.’
‘Very public spirited of you.’
‘All right,’ she conceded crossly. ‘I may not like driving, but I’m a very good driver. I’m just careful, is all…’
‘I’m not contesting it,’ he soothed silkily. ‘It’s purely a personal foible of mine, but I get jumpy when the driver of a car I’m a passenger in closes her eyes when manoeuvring past a large lorry.’
‘It was a very narrow bridge.’ And a very big lorry.
‘I’ve seen you drive around a car park for half an hour rather than reverse into a parking space.’
‘Are you eventually going to make a point?’
One dark brow lifted sardonically. ‘I thought I already had.’
Rowena gritted her teeth; she hated his maddening calm. ‘It’s preposterous. I mean, obviously you can’t walk out on your life just because…’
‘You need me?’ He slid a hand behind his head, mussing up his rich dark hair as he settled comfortably back in his seat. ‘Actually, nothing could be easier,’ he announced carelessly.
There was nothing careless or soothing about the burning expression in the green eyes that welded with hers. Rowena clutched nervously at her tight throat as her thundering heart tried to fight its way out of her chest. She cleared her throat; anyone would think she was the sort of woman that got all turned on by all that predatory, possessive macho nonsense!
‘Well, I don’t want you,’ she announced tautly. The last thing she needed was to be even further in his debt. No, relying on Quinn would be a fatal mistake.
Quinn appeared to take her rejection in his stride. ‘Your problem is you don’t know what’s good for you.’
Was he suggesting that he’d be good for her…? This wasn’t a proposition Rowena felt up to challenging.
‘Gran always said that to me too. Like you, she’s big on clichés, but only when she says them…’ For a moment fear, dark and cold, blanked out every other consideration. ‘Do you think…?’ she whispered, her eyes darkening with dread.
Quinn, his expression compassionate, took hold of her hands now tortuously twisted in her lap and chafed the chilly extremities between his. ‘Cold hands, warm heart?’ he suggested.
‘The exception that proves the rule, that’s me,’ Rowena responded, unable to stop her teeth from chattering.
‘You asked me what I think. For what it’s worth, I think it’s useless to speculate on your grandmother’s condition at this point. She’s in the best possible place and she’s being cared for by the best possible people.’
Rowena nodded; what he said made perfect sense. ‘You’re right,’ she conceded. ‘It’s just hard…’ she broke off as the emotional lump in her throat became unmanageable.
‘You’re really fond of your grandparents, aren’t you?’
The note of surprise in his voice brought an angry sparkle to Rowena’s eyes. Aren’t pushy, upwardly mobile bitches allowed to care for their families? she wanted to yell. She snatched her hands from his and pushed her hair back behind her ears. ‘Why should that surprise you?’
‘It doesn’t surprise me, Rowena, though I can think of several people it might surprise. You play your glacial ice-maiden part extremely well.’
Rowena opened her mouth to contest this description then, realising he had a point, shrugged in tired resignation.
‘Tell me about them,’ he urged unexpectedly.
‘Gran and Grandpa?’ Her neatly shaped brows drew together in straight line. ‘Why?’
‘Do you always suspect people’s motives?’ he responded, a hint of exasperation in his tone. ‘I’ve no sinister hidden agenda, Rowena. You need to talk, and I…I want to listen.’
‘Grandpa owned a trawler before he retired.’
‘Fishing is a high-risk profession.’
‘And not a very lucrative one these days. Grandpa’s old boat has been tarted up to take tourists on trips around the Summer Isles these days. Grandpa doesn’t say so but I think he finds that quite sad. Mind you, he doesn’t say much full stop, but he’s always been there for me,’ she added swiftly, just in case Quinn was mistakenly associating strong and silent with strong and unfeeling. ‘He’s unfailingly supportive…never judgemental. A quiet gentle giant.’ Her eyes misted with affection.
‘And your grandmother…?’ Quinn prompted gently.
‘Oh, she’s not quiet, in fact she’s the total opposite to Grandpa, but somehow they are right together, if you know what I mean…?’ She was so involved in her own private reflections that she didn’t see Quinn nod. ‘I just can’t imagine them apart. Gran always encouraged Holly and I to…’ She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. ‘Sorry.’
Quinn pressed a tissue into her hand. ‘They sound great; I’d love to meet them.’
‘Oh, they’d like you,’ she said, enthusiastically, without thinking. Her jaw dropped in almost comical dismay as their eyes met. ‘That is…’ she laughed awkwardly as she lowered her gaze hastily from his ‘…what’s not to like? You’re an adorable sort of guy,’ she joked shakily.
‘That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.’
If she wasn’t careful he might realise how successful he’d been! ‘I don’t usually cry so much…’
‘Your “don’t get mad, get even” policy doesn’t really cover this situation, does it, angel?’
Choked up, Rowena shook her head. ‘Not really. Oh, God!’ She groaned. ‘I should be there. When I think of Gran all alone…’
‘She’s hardly alone, is she?’
‘No, that’s true. Mum and Dad are there, that’s a good thing. Isn’t it?’
‘Of course it is, and Holly and Niall are there too—quite the family gathering.’
Rowena sensed his unspoken question. ‘I was invited. It’s Grandpa’s birthday tomorrow and Holly wanted to show Niall off. I couldn’t justify taking a break…’
If Quinn detected the guilt in her voice he didn’t comment on it.
‘I was surprised to find out about Holly and Niall…’ Quinn’s light comment invited a response, which Rowena didn’t give. If he had been surprised, she’d been shocked rigid by the news that Holly was to marry someone she had always considered one of her own best friends.
It wasn’t as if she grudged her baby sister her happiness, or that she felt she had any particular claims on Niall who, like Quinn, had been her friend since university days—she had been there for him after his first marriage had broken up. It just took some major readjusting, that was all.
Quinn’s watchful eyes remained on her downcast features. ‘It was all a bit quick, wasn’t it?’ He thought he managed to hide his suspicions pretty well under the circumstances—the circumstances being he was highly suspicious of Rowena’s relationship with Niall.
‘They seem very happy,’ Rowena eventually responded carefully.
The lines bracketing Quinn’s strong mouth deepened as his lips tightened. ‘And if you had any doubts, you wouldn’t say so. Being that sour grapes sound so…well, sour.’
Rowena was bewildered by the abrupt change of mood she sensed in him. ‘Meaning what, exactly?’ she gritted dangerously.
‘I always had the impression that you considered you had first refusal on Niall,’ he drawled.
Rowena took a deep, wrathful breath. The problem was, there was a grain of truth in his abominable charge—not that she had ever had a romantic relationship with Niall, nor for that matter had she ever wanted one, but they had been close. Closer probably in their post-student days than she and Quinn had been.
Possibly, Rowena mused, considering the matter in a new light, because there never had been any of the unacknowledged physical attraction between her and Niall that there was between her and Quinn. It was nice to go places with a very attractive man and not have to worry that he’d expect anything at the end of the evening other than stimulating conversation and good coffee.
‘Niall is everything you are not,’ she announced scornfully.
Though experienced in relationships with the opposite sex, Quinn was not experienced in jealousy. It was like an open wound, which he couldn’t help poking even though it hurt. ‘And what am I, Rowena? Other than not being fit to lick Niall’s boots, that is. Is it Niall’s title you begrudge Holly?’
‘Are you trying to insult me?’
‘Did you fancy yourself as part of the landed gentry? Well, marrying Niall would certainly give you that,’ he admitted, reviewing their mutual friend’s blue-blooded background.
‘I never wanted to marry Niall.’
‘Did he ask?’
Rowena flushed angrily.
‘I see he didn’t.’
‘He didn’t ask me to marry him, the same way he never took advantage of our friendship and made a pass at me! Unlike some people I could mention!’
‘Am I being unduly sensitive or was that little jibe aimed at me? If so, I feel obliged to say in my defence that the way I recall it, sweetheart, you were pretty anxious to be taken advantage of,’ he reminded her with unforgivable accuracy.
‘Just for the record, I do not begrudge Holly anything!’ Rowena snapped, finding it hard not to lose her rag totally in the face of extreme provocation.
‘Sure you don’t.’
‘I don’t!’ she bellowed back, unable to take his tolerant contempt any longer. ‘And as for what you are, that’s simple, Quinn. You are the most arrogant, infuriating, manipulative male I’ve ever met—and in case you have any doubts, that wasn’t a compliment!’ she finished, lifting a hand to her hot, sticky brow. ‘I’m stuck with you as far as Glasgow,’ she stormed, ‘but after that I’m going on alone.’
Quinn, unfazed by her animosity, just smiled in that laconic, laid-back, wildly attractive way of his and announced his intention of snatching a few minutes’ sleep. He seemed to drift into a deep, untroubled slumber about two seconds after his eyes closed and, much to her chagrin, stayed that way until the attractive flight attendant woke him to fasten his seat belt.
Their plane was about the last one to land—quite bumpily, as it happened, as the nail marks gouged in Quinn’s hand from where Rowena had gripped it could testify—before the airport ground to a total standstill. The blizzards that had cut off the far north had, it seemed, reached Glasgow.
‘I don’t know why you’re following me,’ Rowena remarked icily to the tall figure at her shoulder.
‘I’m only here as an interested bystander, but should you require my services…’
‘I won’t.’
‘Sorry to keep you waiting, miss,’ the harassed-looking individual behind the car-hire counter apologised. ‘We don’t have a four-wheel drive left…’
Rowena tapped her beautifully manicured nails on the desk. ‘Then what do you have?’ she enquired with barely disguised impatience.
The young man told her.
‘That’ll do.’
‘It’s snowing…’
‘I had noticed.’ The recipient of her abrasive sarcasm flushed and, feeling guilty, Rowena smiled tightly to take the sting out of her words.
The smile only further flustered the young man who shot the intimidatingly beautiful blonde’s companion a look of appeal, but the tall man shrugged and remained silent.
‘Well, actually, the police are advising people who don’t have to make a journey to stay at home…most people are…’
‘I’m not most people, and I do have to make a journey,’ Rowena responded, disguising her increasing sense of urgency behind a cold façade.
‘Well, perhaps you could wait until morning?’ One look from those icy eyes silenced the young man. Clearly unhappy, he dropped the keys into her outstretched palm. ‘How far are you planning to go?’
‘Inverness.’
His eyes widened. ‘You’re joking—right!’
‘If you knew the lady better, you wouldn’t bother asking that.’
Rowena spun around. This wasn’t the first time today Quinn had insinuated she had no sense of humour. She had a great sense of humour!
‘Nobody asked you, Quinn Tyler!’
Quinn regarded her angry face impassively. ‘I can take a hint.’
Rowena laughed bitterly. ‘Since when?’
‘Just remember, keep in the highest gear possible when driving on snow and don’t brake in a skid, steer into it,’ he advised her gravely.
‘I knew that!’ she called after him.
Rowena watched the tall retreating figure and experienced none of the deep sense of relief she should have; she only felt a nasty sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her chin up, she took a deep sustaining breath. She was alone and she would cope, she told herself sternly, just as she always had.
This sense of stubborn optimism lasted until she passed the seventh abandoned vehicle slewed horribly across the road. It was while her attention was distracted by the desolate image that her own car hit a patch of black ice and began to move in the wrong direction. Panic took over—she had no control whatsoever.
Quinn held his breath as the silver Saab ahead went into a dramatic skid—the whole scene was picked up in stomach-churning detail by the light of the taxi’s headlights. He began to breathe again as it came to an abrupt halt on what had once been a grassy verge.
‘How much do I owe you?’ he asked the taxi driver who had been following Rowena’s car at a discreet distance.
The driver named a hair-raising sum. Quinn, who had agreed to paying quadruple the going rate to persuade the reluctant driver to venture out, didn’t blink as he handed over the exorbitant sum.
‘I told you not to brake,’ he shouted above the howl of the wind as he ducked his head inside the car.
Rowena’s first thought was for the baby. Fortunately the only part of her that had suffered from the abrupt stop was her forehead, which had glanced against the windscreen. With a relieved sigh, she pushed back her hair from her face and lifted her head off the steering wheel as a blast of cold air and a flurry of snow hit her.
The dazed expression in her eyes wasn’t entirely due to impact; the brush with danger had released a flood of protective maternal instincts as powerful as they were unanticipated. The baby’s all right, the baby’s all right. Like a record stuck in the groove, the relieved litany kept going around and around in her head.
Blinking, she stared up in disbelief at the tall dynamic figure who had wrenched open the car door. She shivered; the nervous sweat that bathed her body was swiftly growing clammily cold in the icy temperature.
What she wanted to say was, I’m glad to see you! Our baby’s all right. What she actually said, in a crossly accusing tone, was, ‘How did you get here?’
Quinn flung his bag in the back seat. ‘Never mind that, slide over,’ came the terse instruction.
Normally Rowena would have objected in the strongest possible terms to being addressed so peremptorily, only right now she was too stressed out by the nightmare few miles she’d driven to think coherently. Conscious only of a deep sense of relief, she meekly did as Quinn instructed. The noise level of the growling wind was deadened to a dull roar as he closed the door behind him.
‘You’re bleeding,’ he remarked quietly.
‘Am I?’
Quinn’s dark skin tones looked peculiarly pale in the subdued light inside the car. Still dazed, Rowena winced slightly as his long, square-tipped fingers gently probed the bruised area on her temple.
She remained passive during the examination, but her near-death experience didn’t stop her stomach muscles clenching painfully as the enclosed space started to fill up with a warm male, uniquely Quinn fragrance. She lowered her eyes self-consciously and watched the snow melt on the shoulders of his jacket—Quinn had the sort of shoulders that filled out jackets extremely well.
‘It’s only superficial,’ he announced clinically.
‘I think I must have hit my head on the windscreen.’
A muscle in his lean cheek did some unauthorised jumping. ‘You could have killed yourself!’ No clinical objectivity this time!
Rowena recoiled from the white-hot blaze of outrage in his eyes.
‘Well, I didn’t,’ she pointed out mildly. ‘So there’s no point stressing out over what might have happened.’
Their eyes meshed and an explosive sound of frustration escaped from between Quinn’s clenched teeth.
‘You are totally unbelievable. You’re not going to admit you were wrong, are you?’
‘It’s not something I’m good at, but then neither are you,’ she felt impelled to add.
Quinn grunted. ‘I’m driving you to the nearest hotel.’ He lifted his cell phone from his pocket and began to punch in a number. ‘I’ll let Niall know what’s happening. Hell!’ He glared at the inanimate object in his hand. ‘There’s no reception.’
‘Just as well, because I’m not stopping at a hotel. I’m going to Inverness.’
Quinn regarded her set stubborn expression with an expression of frustrated incredulity.
‘I can’t decide if you’re just stubborn or plain stupid.’
‘There’s no need to get offensive.’
He shook his head. ‘You’re not going to do your grandmother or anyone else any good if you manage to get yourself killed, woman. You do realise that, I suppose?’
Rowena did, but the compulsion to reach her grandmother was so strong that it pushed every other consideration to the back of her mind.
It was partly a guilt thing, of course, some objective corner of her mind admitted freely. Her grandfather’s birthday wasn’t the first family occasion she’d missed. If it was too late to make up for all the times she hadn’t made this journey—the times when she’d put her career ahead of family commitment—Rowena knew she’d never be able to live with herself.
Please let me have a second chance, she begged silently. Rowena was all too aware that second chances came along rarely.
‘If you’re too scared to drive me I’ll drop you off at the next service station,’ she declared.
Quinn searched her pale face and saw not an inch of give in her zealot-like determination. He shrugged.
‘If you’ve got a death wish, far be it from me to frustrate you.’

is it finished? if it is i will start reading it

no i am afraid its not finished yet coz i was busy the past couple of days but i promise that i will try my best to finish it soon