скачать книгу бесплатно
The Mighty Quinns: Tristan
Kate Hoffmann
Exposing the EnemyLawyer Tristan Quinn has never met a woman he couldn't charm, so he's confident he can convince three elderly women to sell their artists' colony to a developer. He poses as a writer to gain their trust. But then he meets Lily Harrison—the ladies' sexy, quirky niece—and Tris realizes he's in for way more than he bargained for…Lily can smell a lawyer a mile away. Expose him—that's what she needs to do. One piece of clothing at a time—until he's naked and they're at each other's hungry mercy. She can't trust him. She definitely can't fall for him. She just needs to keep her friends close…and her enemy much, much closer!
Exposing the Enemy
Lawyer Tristan Quinn has never met a woman he couldn’t charm, so he’s confident he can convince three elderly women to sell their artists’ colony to a developer. He poses as a writer to gain their trust. But then he meets Lily Harrison—the ladies’ sexy, quirky niece—and Tris realizes he’s in for way more than he bargained for...
Lily can smell a lawyer a mile away. Expose him—that’s what she needs to do. One piece of clothing at a time—until he’s naked and they’re at each other’s hungry mercy. She can’t trust him. She definitely can’t fall for him. She just needs to keep her friends close...and her enemy much, much closer!
Praise for Kate Hoffmann’s The Mighty Quinns
“[Kate] Hoffmann always brings a strong story to the table with The Mighty Quinns, and this is one of her best.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Mighty Quinns: Eli
“The [Aileen Quinn storyline] ends as it began: with strong storytelling and compelling, tender characters who make for a deeply satisfying read.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Mighty Quinns: Mac
“[Hoffmann’s] characters are well written and real. The Mighty Quinns: Eli is a recommended read for lovers of the Quinn family, lovers of the outdoors and lovers of a sensitive man.”
—Harlequin Junkie
“A winning combination of exciting adventure and romance... This is a sweet and sexy read that kept me entertained from start to finish.”
—Harlequin Junkie on The Mighty Quinns: Malcolm
“Ms. Hoffmann’s voice is smooth, calming and soulful.... If you are looking for a steamy romance with an engaging storyline, give this book a try.”
—Harlequin Junkie on The Mighty Quinns: Roarke
“The Mighty Quinns: Jack is one of those stories that will capture your mind and heat your emotions. It was impossible for me to put this steamy, sexy book down until the last page was turned.”
—Fresh Fiction
Dear Reader (#ulink_ec91c2ce-2605-5ec5-9440-d8eb95465deb),
One of the best things about being a writer is creating interesting characters. Sometimes those characters live entirely on the pages of my books, but other times they seem to come to life in my mind. They almost seem real. And I enjoy their company so much that when I finish the book, I actually feel a bit lonely for these temporary “guests.”
The Mighty Quinns: Tristan was one of those books that brought together an odd community of characters that really stayed with me long after the book was finished. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did!
Happy reading,
The Mighty Quinns: Tristan
Kate Hoffmann
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
KATE HOFFMANN lives in southeastern Wisconsin with her books, her computer and her cats, Princess Winifred and Princess Grace. In her spare time she enjoys sewing, baking, movies, theater and talking on the phone with her sister. She has written nearly ninety books for Harlequin.
To Judge Andy S. for helping with legal matters.
Contents
Cover (#ue7b86c67-1924-5be5-aa6d-b12e63730fcd)
Back Cover Text (#u31b67640-1ef5-5d00-be60-14c4c8158d81)
Introduction (#u3a1f061c-9443-5d6e-ab76-e2da5f6f1f9d)
Dear Reader (#ulink_9012865f-54b3-582d-bcff-d2c5568c5be9)
Title Page (#u9a62c3a4-8fd9-57d3-ad25-e4ffc10ca8d0)
About the Author (#u837a50e5-7700-57dd-a9d7-eb31195d3dd0)
Dedication (#u89887441-5e8d-5eba-9add-b3ad9735340f)
Prologue (#ulink_23f24fc9-fe89-5b03-9161-5d8158245726)
Chapter 1 (#ulink_ea88e8c0-471f-557f-a189-c90fb55b36be)
Chapter 2 (#ulink_8a96c06f-83db-5285-a70d-61dbb17d8c90)
Chapter 3 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#ulink_440338c2-9869-5a65-add0-cd59c0b0fcce)
THEY’D LIVED IN the blue house on Downey Street for just five months. Tristan had been so excited to move in. A real house after the family of five had spent their summer living in the car or sleeping in a tent. But when his father had died and the cold weather set in, things became desperate again.
They scraped together just enough money to survive from panhandling, petty theft and their mother’s disability payments. The Quinns couldn’t pay their rent, but no one wanted to evict tenants in the middle of winter. That was what their mother depended upon—the guilt of strangers.
Tristan stood at the window, scraping his finger over the frost that coated the inside. The heat and the electricity had been turned off two months ago. They’d been forced to depend upon a smoky fireplace for warmth and a gas-station restroom for water and plumbing facilities.
“Where is she?” Tristan’s little brother, Jamie, asked.
Their mother had taken their other brother, Thom, out to pinch some food from the local market. They’d been caught last month stealing a box of cereal, but the store owner had refused to press charges during the holiday season. He’d sent them home with a huge box of food that had lasted nearly a week.
Up and down. That was the way life seemed to work for the Quinns. Just when things started looking a little better, something would knock them down.
Tristan rubbed his arms through his jacket, his breath clouding in front of his face. His mother and Thom had been gone far too long. Something had happened, and Tristan was afraid of the consequences.
They were always just a few steps ahead of CPS—Child Protective Services—the dragon that loomed over their small world, waiting to snatch one or all of them away. Tristan couldn’t go to the police to find his mother because they’d discover that he and his brothers were alone, living in an unheated house in the middle of a Minnesota winter. And then CPS would separate them, possibly forever. So he and his brothers were forced to wait and wonder where their mother was—sometimes for a day or two, sometimes, if she managed to score some booze or drugs, for weeks.
The sound of footsteps on the porch caught Tristan’s attention and he held his breath, wondering who it might be. Burglars regularly broke into the house, looking for anything worth selling. The landlord made threatening appearances occasionally.
“Hey!”
Jamie smiled. “Thom,” he said.
A few seconds later, the second of the three Quinn brothers strolled in, his jacket unzipped, his face red from the cold. He carried a crumpled grocery bag, which he dropped on the floor next to the fireplace.
“What happened?”
“I told her she shouldn’t take the booze. She was already drunk, you’d think she could do without it for once. She was walking out and she dropped a bottle. It shattered around her feet. I grabbed what I could and ran, but they got her. She’s probably in jail now.”
“We have to rescue her,” Jamie said.
“No,” Tristan replied. “No. She’s safe there. She’ll have food, and a bed and heat. They won’t let her drink. If we go get her there’ll be too many questions. You know I’m right, don’t you, Jamie?”
The younger boy nodded.
“We’ll survive just fine on our own,” Tristan explained. “We have a fire and something to eat. We’ve got our sleeping bags to keep us extra warm. It will be like camping. And in the morning, we’ll go to school and we’ll be warm for the whole day and have a hot meal. We’ll make it through. We always do.”
Tristan reached out and pulled Jamie into his arms, giving him a hug. Then he looked over at Thom. “Why don’t you eat? I’m going to see if I can find some more wood for the fire. I passed a house on my way to school that had stacks of firewood. If I can take some, we’ll be warm for a few days.”
“It’s really cold out,” Thom warned. “Wear the red coat. That has a good hood.”
Tristan left his brothers in front of the fire, picking through the bag of snacks that Thom had managed to steal. Tris bundled up against the cold, then headed out, turning toward the alley that ran between the blocks of houses in their run-down neighborhood.
As he walked, he sniffed the air for the scent of a fire, squinting into the sky for a curl of smoke that might come from a nearby chimney.
Everything looked so different in the dark, especially when covered with a layer of white. But he found a house with a fire burning inside. He peered through the windows into the darkened interior, noticing the bars that blocked his entrance. But to his surprise, a side door to the garage had been left open, probably so the owner could retrieve more wood.
“This is good,” he murmured with a smile. Now he just had to find a way to carry it home. He could balance three, maybe four pieces in his hands. Not enough even for the night. He needed a way to move more wood.
The light from the alley allowed him to see the interior of the garage. He spotted a tarp and a wheelbarrow. Tristan grabbed the tarp. The wheelbarrow would be missed and he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to push it, but he could easily drag the tarp through the snow.
Tristan made quick work of the task, knowing the longer he took, the greater the odds of being caught. He managed to load up sixteen logs before he carefully closed the door and headed down the alley.
The guy would never miss the wood and Tristan’s family would be warm for the next day or two. He didn’t feel bad about stealing. Guilt was no longer an emotion he could afford. But every time he’d been forced to break the law or take advantage of someone to survive, Tristan made a promise to himself.
One day, when he was older, when he no longer had to take care of his brothers and they were on their own, he’d find a way to help people who were in trouble or struggling to survive.
He’d find them food or a nice place to live or maybe a job that would help to buy clothes and an ice cream cone every now and then. He wasn’t sure what kind of job it would be, but if there was something like that in the world, he’d find it...
1 (#ulink_ea1a02a3-ece8-524c-bed9-d76be8ae3a34)
TRISTAN QUINN DOWNSHIFTED the sleek silver convertible as he navigated the narrow curve of the road. Dappled sunlight filtered through the trees lining each side of the pavement, the thick green forest broken only by occasional homemade signs indicating cottages and resorts located deep within the woods.
He drew a deep breath, enjoying the brisk wind and warm sun on his face. There were moments when he had to wonder why he’d decided to seek a career in law, except for the rather sizable salary. He could have easily enjoyed being a construction worker or a ditch digger. At least he’d be free of the confines of his office, free to enjoy the weather, the warm summer days and even the bitter cold that came with the winters in Minneapolis.
So when this case had come up, Tristan had jumped at the opportunity. Though the matter had plagued most of the lawyers in his office, it meant an entire day outside of the office. He’d left that morning, headed northwest, a tidy stack of documents tucked in his briefcase. Today, he’d take his shot at negotiating a settlement to a contentious real estate case that had been going on for three long years.
Though most of the lawyers in the firm had worked on the case, this was his first crack at it. It was his chance to show the partners what he could do.
The case involved a dispute over an incredibly beautiful piece of land located an hour from the city on a pristine and very private lake. It was one of the only undeveloped lakes that close to Minneapolis–St. Paul, and as such was considered gold for any real estate developer.
The land had been held by the Pigglestone Family Trust since the late 1950s, and since then had been the site of an artists’ colony. But the latest generation wanted to sell the land, and in order to do that, they needed to evict their three elderly aunts, who had lived on the property from the beginning. Papers had been drawn up, notices sent, but the women had largely ignored the court orders.
Tristan didn’t relish evicting a trio of old ladies, but the partners had authorized him to offer an extraordinary financial settlement—one that would set the women up in relative luxury almost anywhere in the world. Though the job had proved impossible for others, Tristan was confident he’d be able to complete this task in a day or two and return to the firm a winner. After all, he’d been charming women for as long as he as he could remember.
“Turn right, two hundred yards.”
He glanced over at the navigation screen and frowned. He hadn’t seen any road signs for the past mile and assumed that he was off the grid. But a few moments later the voice warned him again. “Turn right, one hundred yards.”
He slowed the car and watched for a sign. But all that was visible was thick brush and tall trees. “Turn right, twenty yards.”
The narrow side road suddenly appeared and Tristan slammed on the brakes in order to make the turn. There was no sign or any indication of what lay ahead. But the coordinates had come directly from his boss so he knew he could trust them.
As he drove deeper into the woods, the road narrowed until it was only wide enough for one car to pass. Tristan slowly rounded a curve but skidded to a stop when he saw a figure standing in the middle of the road.
Her arms were stretched above her head, her fingers spread wide. She stood perfectly still, only the breeze moving her hair. She wore a loose cotton blouse that barely covered her backside—and nothing else. Tristan watched her for a long moment, his gaze drifting lower to take in the sweet curve of her naked backside. He couldn’t see her face, but somehow he sensed that she would be beautiful.
She continued to watch the trees above her head and then suddenly her hands drifted down to her sides. Tristan switched off the car and waited, remaining still and silent, afraid he might spook her. She tilted her head slightly as if she’d caught some sound deep in the woods. Finally, her shoulders dropped and she slowly shook her head.
When she turned to face him, his suspicions were proven true. She was beautiful. Breathtakingly beautiful. Like some wild wood nymph, her dark tousled hair fell in curls around perfect features.
“This is private property,” she called, bracing her hands on her waist. The cotton shirt lifted again, revealing the tops of her shapely legs. His gaze drifted down to her bare feet, which were covered with mud.
Tristan got out of the car, closing the door behind him before he approached. “What were you looking for?”
“I wasn’t looking,” she said. “I was listening.”
“Then what were you listening for?”
“An owl. A great gray owl. Every now and then when I walk along this stretch of road, I hear him. I just can’t tell where the sound is coming from. Maybe it’s just the wind playing tricks on my ears. Or maybe it’s a ghost.”
“What does he sound like?” Tristan asked.
