The Mighty Quinns: Malcolm

Amy pushed to her feet. “I should probably go. I can’t afford to miss any more work.”

“Isn’t this your work?”

She didn’t want to admit the truth to him, but then again, what difference did it make now? “I was hoping if I got this story, I could convince my father to mount an expedition to Everest for you and your brothers.”

He gasped, then looked away. Gulping down the last of his whiskey, Mal sat silently for a long moment. Amy waited, wondering if the revelation might change his mind. “I thought we’d do a series of articles. Profiles on all three of you, then we’d follow the preparations for the expedition. And then cover the expedition itself. I wanted to put a historical perspective on the story and show the way climbing Everest has changed in the past twenty years.”

“You have a lot of grand plans,” he said.

“I do,” Amy admitted.

Was he really considering her offer? Would the expedition change his mind? Amy knew she ought to tell him the truth, that an Everest trip wasn’t actually a firm part of the deal, but if she wanted this story, then she had to do everything in her power to make it happen. That was what a real journalist did.

“I’m still not going to do the story,” he said.

Frustration welled up inside her. So he’d decided to string her along and get her drunk. “Then I think I’ll go back to my hotel.” She walked down the porch steps, then realized that she didn’t have her car. And she wasn’t really sure how to get back to her hotel.

“Come on,” Mal said. “At least let me buy you dinner for your trouble. You came all the way to New Zealand.”

“You already bought me crisps and a beer. I’m good.”

Mal jogged down the steps and grabbed her hand. The physical contact sent a tremor through her body. When he leaned closer, she forgot to breathe. She realized she should put some distance between them. And yet she couldn’t seem to make herself move.

She wanted him to kiss her, to come away with that one singular experience. She’d consider her trip a mild success if she left with that memory. After all, this whole trip had been about expanding her horizons, about reaching for new goals.

“Can I take you out?” he asked. “I promise, I’ll show you a good time.”

She couldn’t help but smile. If he knew the kind of fun that she had in mind, he might not be so anxious to keep her around. Or maybe he would....

Glancing down at their hands, her fingers still caught up in his, Amy realized what she had to do. If she couldn’t have the story, then she’d satisfy herself with the man. Or at least a night out with him. Suddenly, the word adventure took on a whole new meaning.

“All right,” she said. “I am hungry.”

Mal gave her hand a squeeze, then pulled her along to the Range Rover. “A friend of mine has a burger place over on Bow Street. Do you like burgers? Of course you do, you’re American. You’re going to love this place.”

He opened the door and helped her into the truck. Amy watched as he jogged around to the driver’s side. He moved with such ease, as if he was in absolute control of every muscle in his body. What would it feel like to have that body beside her in bed? To be able to touch him at will?

As he slid in behind the wheel, she pushed the thought out of her head. She’d blown all of this entirely out of proportion. He’d touched her calf; he’d squeezed her hand. That didn’t mean he wanted to carry her into his bed and ravish her. It was Mal Quinn’s business to be charming and accommodating. They would have a fun meal, that was all.

She searched her mind for a topic of conversation. Now that he’d refused the article, she didn’t want to probe his past too deeply. She took a different tack. “Do you surf?”

“Yes,” he said. “After my father died, we moved up from the south island. My mum’s parents lived here and we lived with them at first. They ran a little restaurant.”

“Does your whole family still live here?”

“My grandparents have a place closer to Auckland now. The bach was theirs. They used to rent rooms out to visiting surfers. Now my brothers live there with me, although we’re rarely there together. And my younger sister also lives in town with a few friends. She used to live with us, but that didn’t really work out once she started bringing men home.”

“Your father was Australian. Do you ever see that side of the family?”

He glanced over at her. “You’ve done your research.”

She smiled. “I wanted to be prepared.”

“He was an only child and his mother passed away when he was thirteen. He never knew his father. He lived with foster families for a couple of years, then ran away when he was sixteen. He just wandered from adventure to adventure after that, working when he had to. He ended up in New Zealand, where he met Roger Innis, and the rest is history.”

Amy wanted paper and a pen to take notes, but since she’d managed to gain his trust, she had to keep it. “That adds a whole new context to his life,” she said. “I’ve always wondered what drives a man to risk his life for...thrills.”

“I couldn’t tell you.”

“You don’t feel that thrill?”

He shook his head. “Not the kind of thrill that makes me want to risk my life. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do. I love seeing new and beautiful places, and I love showing those places to other people. But it’s not about me, it’s about the clients. With my father, I think it was about him. Even when he had clients with him.”

They pulled up in front of the restaurant and Mal parked the car and turned off the ignition. He stared out the windshield, a perplexed expression on his face. He laughed softly. “You know, I never really made the connection before, between his childhood and his need to tempt the fates.”

“I can understand his urge,” she said. “Maybe, after all that had happened to him as a kid, he was a little numb. Risking his life made him feel alive.”

He twisted in his seat, facing her. “But why have a family? Why put them at risk, too?”

“That’s easy,” Amy said. “Love. He lost his mother when he was young. I suppose he always wanted a family again, and when he met your mother, that happened. It just didn’t heal all the wounds.” She shook her head. “I’m not a psychologist, so this is all speculative. I guess we’ll never really know.”

“My father kept journals. My mother said she burned them, but I believe she still has them. They might provide more insight.”

“Maybe you should ask her if you can read them,” Amy said. “It might give you the peace you need.”

He considered her suggestion for a long moment. And then, without any warning, he reached out and pulled her toward him. His lips met hers and she realized that he was kissing her.

His tongue gently probed and she eagerly joined in. He was everything she’d imagined he would be—warm and passionate and powerful. He caressed her face with his hands as he deepened his assault and Amy sighed, the sound swallowed by the kiss.

When he finally drew back, she was light-headed and breathless. She wanted to kiss him again and keep kissing him until...until they found something more exciting to do. She leaned into him and he immediately took the cue and captured her mouth in another deep, delicious encounter.

This time, when he drew back, she held fast to the front of his shirt. They couldn’t go on until she understood exactly where she stood with him. “What are the chances you’re going to do this story with me?” she asked. “Just give me the odds.”

“As much as you’ve made an enticing pitch, I just can’t,” Mal said.

“Then I suppose there’s nothing to stop you from kissing me again.”

He grinned. “There was nothing stopping me before,” Mal replied.

“All right, then, carry on,” she said.

With a low growl, he shook his head. “I think maybe we should go inside and have dinner.”

Amy drew a deep breath. “Right. Let’s have dinner.”

A meal would give her an opportunity to regroup and figure out what the hell she was doing. If the story was a no-go, then she was free to pursue other avenues with Mal Quinn. Sexual avenues...and boulevards...and expressways. She’d come to New Zealand to make a major change in her life. Maybe she should start with herself.

* * *

MAL HAD BEGUN the evening searching for a warm body to take to bed. To his surprise, he’d found a funny, smart and sexy woman. Too bad she was a journalist.

He watched in amusement as she tackled the huge hamburger, digging into her dinner with enthusiasm.

“It’s good, right?” he asked.

“Really good,” she said.

“New Zealand beef. It’s the best.”

“I think all the cheese and truffle oil might have something to do with it, too,” she said, closely examining the burger.

They sat on the wide front porch of the restaurant, which overlooked the street. Raglan was a typical surf haven, filled with funky shops and casual restaurants. The laid-back atmosphere was exactly what he needed when he came home from an expedition, these surroundings providing the perfect atmosphere to decompress.

Though he’d been to many breathtaking spots in the world, home was always the most beautiful to him. He’d grown up here, learned to surf here and made plans for his first solo adventure in the cozy bach on the beach.

“I’ve never seen a woman eat like that,” he said.

“Then you haven’t been hanging around real women,” Amy countered. “Not all of us eat like rabbits.”

“I reckon not,” he said. He respected that about Amy. She didn’t try to turn herself into someone she assumed he wanted. She was true and genuine. “So tell me about your travels. I’ve read about your father and your brother. What about you?”

She gazed across the table at him, an odd expression on her face. “I’d much rather hear about your trip to Greenland. That sounds interesting.”

“It was,” he said. “At the rate the glaciers are melting, there will come a day when that trip isn’t possible. I’m glad I’m able to give people the experience before it’s too late.”

“What’s your favorite trip?” she asked.

“Every trip has something special,” he said. “It’s not the scenery, it’s more the feeling. I’ll be standing in some marketplace in Nepal or talking to some Argentinian farmer and I’ll say to myself, what the bloody hell am I doing here? I can’t believe I live this life.”

“Have you ever thought of settling down and staying in one place?”

Mal shook his head. “Never. I make my living as a guide and even though I’m very careful, there are still dangers. I’d never put someone through what my mother went through.”

“Do you think she regrets marrying your father?”

“No. They loved each other. And she understood what she was getting into when they got married. But I do think it might have been easier if they hadn’t had children.”

“How can you say that? You and your siblings are a part of him that lives on.”

It was so odd to talk about these matters, especially with a virtual stranger. And yet discussing his father with Amy had already given him new insights. Until now, he’d been pretty rigid in his opinions, but he was starting to realize that it was not always black-and-white.

The subject turned to his business and Amy was curious about the expeditions his company offered. Though she knew a great deal about the locations, Mal got the impression that she hadn’t done a lot of adventuring herself. Or maybe she was just trying to keep him talking. Either way, he didn’t mind. She had a way of making him feel completely comfortable. There was no question she might ask that he wouldn’t answer.

Which was dangerous. She was a reporter after all. And he couldn’t be completely certain about her motives. Though this flirtation was fun, Mal wasn’t sure he was willing to take it to the next level.

But why not? If she was willing, why not enjoy a night of passion before she went home? Having sex with her certainly wasn’t going to change his mind. And he was positive they’d have a great time indulging in the desire that was growing more intense with every minute that passed.

He reached out and snagged her hand, hooking his little finger around hers. “Why don’t we walk off this meal? We can go get your car and you can follow me back to the house. I’ll show you my beach.”

The waitress brought the bill and though Amy insisted on paying, Mal couldn’t agree. He wanted this to be a real date, not just two people sharing a casual meal. He’d follow dinner with a romantic stroll on the beach and that would lead to more kissing and touching. And maybe, after all that, she’d end up in his bed.

They walked down the front steps and Mal linked his fingers through hers. He didn’t want to let any opportunity slip by, but Amy needed to know that his intentions were purely carnal. That way, she’d make the choice.

They got in the Range Rover and he pulled it around and headed toward the pub where they’d met earlier that afternoon. She seemed oddly silent and he risked a glance over at her, wondering if she was reconsidering her choices.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Mal asked.

“You mentioned your father’s journals. Have you ever thought of writing your own book about him?”

Her reply caught him by surprise. Unlike him, she clearly wasn’t thinking about sex. She was thinking about business. “I can’t write.”

“Everyone can write,” Amy said. “You’d just need a good editor to help you put things in order.”

“Do I know any good editors?”

She sent him a haughty smile.

“Are you volunteering?”

“It’s just an idea. But it might be good for you. You’d get to know your father again, only this time with an adult perspective.”

“Why is it that everything you say makes perfect sense to me?”

“That’s funny, most things I say don’t make sense to me.”

He’d never considered an autobiography, a project that he and his family could control. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea....

They found her car where she’d left it earlier that day. “Just follow me,” he said. “It’s not far.”

She jumped out of the Range Rover and turned to him. “Maybe I should go back to the hotel.”

He shook his head. “No. I don’t want this night to end quite yet. Take a walk with me. It’s just a walk.”

“All right.”

He watched as she got into her rental car, a sense of anticipation growing inside him. He had every intention of kissing her again. And if that led to something more, he wasn’t going to worry about the future. He didn’t need just any woman right now, he needed Amy Engalls. She was the only woman who could satisfy him.

But though she appeared to be quite confident and self-assured, there was an underlying vulnerability to her. He saw it in the way she deftly changed the subject when he tried to get her to talk about herself. At first, he’d assumed it was just a reporter’s method of always turning the question back on the subject. But over the course of dinner, he’d begun to believe that she figured her life might seem uninteresting to him.

In truth, he wanted to learn everything about her. What did she do on a normal Saturday night? Where did she live? What kind of music did she enjoy? They were all such insignificant questions, but he was curious.

They reached the cottage and he pulled the Range Rover to a stop in the sandy drive, then jumped out and jogged to her car. Mal opened the door and held out his hand, helping her out. “Do you have a cardie or a jacket? It’s probably going to be a bit chilly.”

“I don’t,” she said.

“I’ll grab you something,” he said. “Wait here.”

He ran into the house and pulled a fleece jacket from the hook near the door, then grabbed a second for himself. When he returned, she was standing at the bottom of the steps. Mal held out the jacket and she slipped her arms into the sleeves. Then he spun her around and zipped the front.

“Cozy,” she said, rubbing her arms.

He glanced down at her bare legs. “Do you want to put on some pants?”

“I’ll be fine,” she said.

A breeze had come up and it whipped her honey-blond hair around her face. He reached out and tucked a strand behind her ear. “Let’s go, then,” he said.

Mal held out his hand and she placed her fingers in his. They walked down a sandy path to the beach. The sun had set a few hours before and the stars had come out, pinpricks of light scattered across the inky black sky.

Waves rolled against the shore and they strolled to the edge of the water. She kicked off her shoe and dipped her toe in. “It’s cold.”

“It never warms up enough to surf without a wetsuit. Not like California or Hawaii.”

She kicked off her other shoe and waded in, reaching down to run her fingers through the water. She didn’t see the wave rolling in behind her, but Mal did. He figured the water was shallow enough that she could maintain her balance, but the minute the wave hit her calves, her feet got swept out from under her and she fell into the water. She screamed as the wave surrounded her.

Cursing softly, Mal reached her in a few short strides and pulled her upright. Amy clutched his jacket, her hair stuck to her face in damp strands, her breath coming in deep gasps.

And then suddenly, she started laughing, a boisterous giggle that came from deep inside of her. “What is wrong with me?” she shouted. “Why can’t I stay on my feet?”

Mal reached down and scooped her up, then carried her out of the water. “I’m not sure. Maybe you’re better off your feet.”

She shivered, crossing her arms over her breasts.

“I think we’d better go find you some dry clothes.”

“Well, at least I can say I’ve been swimming in the Indian Ocean. That’s a first,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“It’s actually the Tasman Sea.”

“Even better,” Amy said. She brushed the wet hair out of her eyes. “Oh, my shoes!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll come out in the morning and find them. They’ll be washed up on the sand.”

“I’m going to need shoes.”

“Not tonight,” he said. “I don’t think you should do any more walking. You might end up in the hospital.”

* * *

WHEN THEY REACHED the warmth of his cottage, Mal set her down on her feet and quickly stripped off the sodden jacket. The dress she wore beneath clung to her skin, made almost transparent by the damp. Amy plucked at the fabric with her fingers. By now she was cold to the bone and shivering. But the trembles coursing through her body had less to do with the cold and more to do with the way he was looking at her—as if he might devour her at any moment.

“Why don’t you jump in the shower and warm up. I’ll get you something to wear. The bathroom is just down that hall,” he said.

Amy nodded and turned in that direction. But at the last moment, he caught her hand and pulled her into his arms. His mouth came down on hers, only this time, it felt like he was sending her a message: things were about to get much more intimate. If she wanted to leave, she ought to do it now.

Amy didn’t need to think twice. She was sure of what she wanted. And to that end, she reached down and began to unbutton her dress. Mal stepped back, his hands resting on her shoulders, his gaze fixed on her fingers.

When she reached the end of the buttons, she glanced up at him, hoping he’d take the next step. To her relief, he did, reaching out and brushing the damp fabric from her shoulder.

His lips found a spot at the base of her neck and Amy tipped her head to the side, enjoying the rush of heat that raced through her body. He caught her fingers in his, raising her hand above her head. Then he reached down, grabbed the hem of her dress and slowly pulled it up and over her arms.

The air hit her damp skin, goose bumps prickling her until she shuddered with the chill. Mal was wet from rescuing her and he kicked off his sodden shoes, then shrugged out of the fleece jacket and T-shirt. Grabbing a faded quilt from the back of the sofa, he wrapped her up in it.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes,” Amy said in a soft voice. “Much.”

“Sit,” he said.

She did as he asked and Mal knelt down and took her foot in his hand, brushing the sand from between her toes and then gently rubbing until her foot was warm. He did the same for the other foot, and within a few minutes, Amy was no longer shivering.

Until Mal leaned in and pressed a kiss to the curve of her instep.

Amy drew a quick breath and he raised his eyes to meet her gaze. She sighed softly. “That felt good. Do it again.” It was the closest she could come to an open invitation. Go ahead, ravish me, was what she really wanted to say. But then, that would be very bold, even given her newfound courage.

His lips found the arch of her foot. Though it was an odd way to begin a seduction, to Amy it seemed even more intimate than kissing her mouth. Slowly, his lips traced a path from her foot to the inside of her calf.

When the quilt got in the way, Mal braced his hands on either side of her and brushed a kiss onto the exposed skin of her shoulder. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Amy wondered about the ethics of what she was doing, about the wisdom of sleeping with a man she still wanted to interview. But he’d said himself she wouldn’t be able to convince him, and once he touched her, none of it mattered.

Mal’s lips found hers again and this time his kiss was a lovely mixture of desire and surrender, soft and sweet, yet filled with unrestrained need. He moved his mouth to her neck, pulling the quilt aside to kiss the spot below her ear.

He cupped her face in his hands and moved back to her mouth. Amy’s fingers clutched at his T-shirt, pulling him closer until he was nearly lying on top of her.

It felt wonderful to have the weight of a man’s body stretched out over hers. And though she ought to have considered this more carefully, at this point Amy’s desire far outweighed her common sense.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked. “Or do you want to take that shower?” He paused. “Or we could crawl under the covers on my bed and I could—”

“Okay,” Amy interrupted. “Bed sounds good.”

She didn’t hesitate and stood up beside the sofa, the quilt still wrapped around her body. Amy could barely catch her breath. It was as if she was tumbling down a mountainside and she couldn’t seem to gain a foothold. Things were moving so fast, and she felt as if she’d lost all touch with reality. But now that she’d gained momentum, she didn’t want to stop. She couldn’t.

There was no use denying the attraction. It had been there from the moment he’d first looked at her. In truth, it had been there from the very first time she’d seen his photograph. He was the kind of guy she could only dream about having—handsome, charming, fearless.

And now she’d been handed the chance to be with him, to experience something she might never find in her life again. Sure, she’d had lovers in the past, but they’d never lived up to her expectations. They’d never made her feel wild and uninhibited. Just once, she wanted to be with a man who could make her heart pound and her body ache.

Just a week ago, she’d been curled up on her sofa in her Brooklyn flat, eating a pint of cherry-chocolate-chip ice cream and watching a string of romantic comedies. That had been her life, waiting for Mr. Right. Well, it was time to stop waiting. She’d found Mr. Right Now here in a bach on the beach in New Zealand.

This wouldn’t be about love or even affection. It would about pure, unadulterated passion. This would be the adventure she’d never been brave enough to take, the mountain she’d been too fearful to climb. She wasn’t about to pass this opportunity by. If she couldn’t leave New Zealand with a story, then she’d leave with a damn good memory.

Mal stopped at the bedroom door and she glanced inside to see a large, comfortable bed covered with a deep down duvet. Mal grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head against the door frame, searching her gaze intently. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he murmured, pressing his hips against hers.

The quilt fell away, leaving Amy dressed only in her damp underwear. She could feel his desire beneath the faded fabric of his jeans. He was already completely aroused. Amy wanted to touch him there, to smooth her fingers over the hard ridge of his erection. She could be bold, too. “Yes,” she said, pushing back with her body.