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Inside the ballroom, the orchestra was playing an extended version of “Auld Lang Syne” as the unmasked partygoers milled around laughing, shaking hands and exchanging good wishes. Some had drifted toward the French doors to watch the fireworks display. No one attempted to join the two occupants of the terrace.
Lexi dragged in another deep breath, striving for composure. “When did you arrive?” she asked Quentin.
“About half an hour ago.” Smiling, he touched her face. “I’ve been looking for you ever since.”
She swallowed hard. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, you found me.” Had he ever! “Now you can get back to the party. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a roomful of supermodels who are just waiting to be debauched. As a matter of fact, one of them just walked by. I think you caught her eye, Quentin.”
She waited for him to take the bait and glance over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of the woman in question. To her surprise, his gaze never strayed from hers.
Frowning, Lexi reached up and laid her hand across his forehead as if to check his temperature. “Sweetie, are you feeling okay?”
He chuckled softly. “I feel fine.”
“Are you sure? You don’t seem like yourself. Maybe you’re jet-lagged. Or—”
“Maybe I’m just happy to see you,” he finished.
The warm, husky undertone of his voice skated along her nerve endings and quickened her heart rate.
She gave him a wobbly smile. “I’m happy to see you too, Quentin.”
And she really was. She just wished they hadn’t gotten off to such a nerve-racking start. That kiss… Oh, God. If that searing kiss was any indication of Quentin’s prowess as a lover, it was no wonder he couldn’t keep women out of his bed.
“You owe me a dance,” he told her.
Lexi shook her head quickly—maybe too quickly. But she couldn’t help it. The thought of being in his arms again scared her senseless. “Sorry, but you’ll have to take a rain check. My feet are killing me in these heels.”
“So take ’em off.”
“Wouldn’t do much good. The damage has already been done. Besides, I was planning to cut out soon anyway. Asha had me and the girls running around Paris all day, so I’m exhausted.” To demonstrate, she covered her mouth to stifle what she hoped was a convincingly huge yawn.
Quentin tsk-tsked her. “Spoilsport.”
She grinned. “Hey, it’s not my fault you got here late. But don’t worry. I’m leaving you in good hands. The supermodel I just mentioned? Don’t look now, but she’s back. And it’s a damn good thing we’re not involved, Q, or I’d have to kick her ninety-pound ass for stalking my man.”
Laughing, Quentin sent a lazy glance over his shoulder. The gorgeous woman, slim and exquisitely tall, hovered near the terrace doors. She met Quentin’s gaze, smiled coyly and fluttered her fingers in a wave.
He flashed her a smile before returning his attention to Lexi. “I’m staying in the room next to yours.” Which was the last thing she wanted to hear. “If you’re still awake when I come up, maybe we can play cards or something.”
Lexi forced out a laugh. “Trust me, I won’t be awake. And something tells me you won’t be thinking about cards by the time you make it back to your room,” she added with a meaningful glance over his shoulder.
Quentin shifted closer. “Lex—”
“Oh, look, there’s Michael and Reese!” she exclaimed, grateful for the distraction. “They told me they’d be heading to bed right after midnight. I’ll walk out with them. Good night, sweetie.” Pressing a quick kiss to Quentin’s smooth-shaven cheek, she slipped from between him and the balustrade and hurried across the terrace.
Although she was retiring early, she didn’t expect to get much sleep. The memory of Quentin’s kiss would keep her awake tonight, and for many nights to come.
Chapter 2
The last thought Quentin had before falling asleep was the same thought that greeted him when he woke up the next morning: he’d kissed Lexi.
In the light of day his behavior seemed surreal, like something he’d only imagined. Except he’d never imagined doing something as reckless as what he’d done last night. To Lexi. His best friend. A woman who’d always been more like a sister to him than anything else.
But there was nothing brotherly about the way he’d felt when he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She’d tasted sweeter than he could ever have imagined, and the feel of her petite, curvy body pressed against his had tempted him beyond all reason.
The scary part was, he hadn’t even intended to kiss her when he’d found her on the terrace last night. True, he’d tracked her down with a single-minded focus, bulldozing his way through the crowd in order to reach her before the clock struck twelve. And true, something had clutched in his chest when he saw her standing alone at the balcony, looking ethereally beautiful in that white goddess gown. But even then, as he’d stood in the doorway gazing at her, he’d only intended to sneak up behind her and whisper in her ear, “Happy New Year!”
But as he strode across the terrace, something came over him. Before he realized what he was doing, he was grabbing her, then kissing her. And it felt so damn good he hadn’t wanted to stop.
Swearing under his breath, Quentin rolled over in the king-size bed and frowned up at the ceiling.
What the hell have you done, Reddick?
He and Lexi had been best friends for over twenty years. In all that time he’d never made a move on her, even though he’d have to be comatose not to notice what a sweet little number she was. With her beautiful brown skin, lush lips and long-lashed, exotic eyes that could skewer or beguile with a glance, Lexi had always drawn her share of male attention. At parties and nightclubs, she’d never been able to take three steps without some loser trying to grab her hand and lure her onto the dance floor—until he saw Quentin and Michael looming behind her with menacing expressions. The two friends had been protective of Lexi since college, taking her under their wing like a beloved baby sister. Despite their womanizing reputations, she’d trusted them, deeming them safe to befriend.
She meant more to Quentin than any other woman he’d ever known. The last thing he wanted was to jeopardize their friendship because he’d had a moment of temporary insanity. Although Lexi had responded hungrily to his kiss, she’d been stunned and outraged when she discovered that Quentin was behind the mask. For all he knew, she’d spent the rest of the night plotting her revenge by making a voodoo doll of him, which she’d use to inflict pain on him at the worst possible moments. Like when he was arguing a case in court. Or flirting with a beautiful woman.
Chuckling grimly at the thought, Quentin decided to test the waters.
Raising his arm above the headboard, he rapped his knuckle on the wall four times, which was code for: am I in trouble?
He waited tensely.
One knock meant he was forgiven. Two knocks meant he was in the doghouse and would have to do some serious groveling to get back into her good graces.
After an agonizing eternity, Lexi responded. Thump.
A slow, relieved grin spread across Quentin’s face.
Things were back to normal between them. With any luck, they’d stay that way.
Lexi spent a long, restless night tortured by mental replays of the smoldering kiss she and Quentin had shared. But, surprisingly, when she awoke the next morning, she was able to put the whole situation into perspective.
Last night had been an aberration.
The excitement of New Year’s Eve, the mystique of a masquerade ball, fireworks cascading over a moonlit balcony—all were the perfect ingredients for a romantic liaison. Who wouldn’t have gotten caught up in the moment?
She and Quentin were two mature, reasonable adults. They didn’t have to throw away their friendship over what amounted to a fluke. An exquisitely passionate fluke—but a fluke nonetheless.
It was time to put the kiss behind her, Lexi decided. Knowing Quentin, he already had.
No sooner had she completed the thought than she heard four distinct knocks on her bedroom wall.
She smiled to herself. Quentin was reaching out to her in their special code language, which they’d cleverly dubbed “LexiQuen” during a spring break trip to Cabo San Lucas, where they’d argued heatedly one evening after Quentin left her stranded at a nightclub.
Just to make him squirm, as she’d done that night many years ago, Lexi took her sweet time before lifting her hand to the wall and knocking once. And then she grinned, imagining the relieved expression on Quentin’s face. She never could stay mad at him for very long.
An hour later she emerged from her room, freshly showered and dressed in a cream cashmere sweater and designer jeans. Determined to prove that nothing had changed between her and Quentin, she decided to stop by his room so they could head down to breakfast together.
Before she’d taken two steps his door swung open and out strutted the tall, gorgeous waif from last night’s ball. The skimpy dress she wore ended just beneath the curve of her butt and showed off miles of long, slender legs. Her black hair was tousled, as if she’d just risen from Quentin’s bed—which she undoubtedly had.
Lexi froze in her tracks, watching as the woman smiled coquettishly and waved at Quentin, who was framed in the doorway, his chest and feet bare. A smile played at the edges of his mouth as he watched her sashay down the hall. When she’d disappeared around the corner, he shook his head in amusement and closed the door.
Inwardly relieved that he hadn’t seen her standing there, Lexi ditched the idea of waiting for him and headed downstairs alone.
Just as she’d expected, Quentin had already forgotten about kissing her and was back to his womanizing ways. So all was right with the world again. Which was exactly what she’d wanted. Right?
Of course, Lexi thought, annoyed that she was even second-guessing herself. The best thing she could do was pretend that the kiss had never happened. The sooner she put it out of her mind, the better off she’d be.
Easier said than done.
Resolutely ignoring her conscience, Lexi focused on her surroundings. The interior of Asha’s château was every bit as impressive as the exterior. As Lexi made her way downstairs, she couldn’t help feeling as though she’d been transported back in time to the opulent days of the French royalty. Each room she passed was large and luxuriously appointed with beautiful antique furniture, rich fabrics, soaring fireplaces, original period paintings and priceless tapestries.
The grand marble staircase descended to a cavernous foyer that was lit by a massive crystal chandelier. Lexi followed the sound of laughing voices to a pair of French doors that opened onto an enormous breakfast room. A fire crackled invitingly in the hearth, and bright winter sunlight poured through a row of windows that overlooked the immaculately landscaped grounds of the estate.
Everyone was already gathered around the long mahogany table. At opposite ends were Asha and Sterling Wolf, former adversaries who’d shocked their children last year when they announced that they were getting married. They were as different as night and day, yet no one could dispute that they absolutely belonged together.
As did the other two couples seated at the table. Reese had her head resting on Michael’s shoulder as he gently rubbed her swollen stomach, while his younger brother Marcus couldn’t stop smiling at his gorgeous wife, Samara, who sat across from him.
As Lexi entered the sunny room, she was met by a chorus of warm greetings.
“Good morning, everyone.” Smiling, she bent and planted an affectionate kiss on Sterling Wolf’s clean-shaven dark cheek. He’d always been more like a father to her than the worthless man who’d abandoned her when she was a child. Which was why Sterling had insisted that she call him Dad, and she’d asked him to give her away at her wedding four years ago. In light of the way her disastrous marriage had ended, having Sterling walk her down the aisle was the only good decision she’d made that day.
“Where’s your partner in crime?” he asked her.
“Still in his room.” Lexi slid into the empty chair beside Reese, who gave her a disappointed look. “What?”
“We were counting on you to bring Quentin downstairs,” Reese said. “You know he’s always late to everything, and the baby and I are starving.”
Lexi was mildly alarmed. “You mean you haven’t eaten anything yet? It’s almost ten o’clock!”
“I had a light snack,” Reese admitted with a sheepish grin. “But that’s not the point. Whenever we all go out to dinner, you always make sure Quentin gets there on time. That’s, like, your designated role.”
Lexi shrugged, draping a linen napkin across her lap. “I didn’t want to disturb him. He, uh, had a late night.”
“Actually,” Asha interjected drolly from the other end of the table, “he left the ball half an hour after you did.”
Lexi glanced up in surprise. “He did?”
“Oui.” Asha held her gaze. “Alone.”
Lexi flushed. “Oh,” was all she could say.
So maybe the sexy supermodel hadn’t spent the night with Quentin. That didn’t mean he hadn’t slept with her. Maybe she’d sneaked into his room for a quickie early that morning. And maybe she’d been sound asleep, or in the bathroom, when Quentin sent his coded message to Lexi.
Asha was studying her, a calculating gleam in her dark eyes that made Lexi want to squirm. She remembered Samara once telling her about Asha’s uncanny ability to ferret out people’s darkest secrets without them uttering a word. Unless Asha had witnessed what transpired on the terrace last night, there was no way she could know that Quentin had kissed Lexi.
Or could she? Lexi wondered uneasily. Was the truth written all over her face?
As she stared at Asha, the other woman’s full lips curved in a quiet, intuitive smile. “I’m hoping you’ll take my New Year’s toast to heart, Alexis,” she murmured.
Lexi eyed her warily. “What do you mean?”
“With all due respect, chère, my words weren’t intended for those of us who are already having plenty of hot, mind-blowing sex.”
Scandalized, Samara gasped. “Mom!”
Michael and Marcus groaned at the thought of their sixty-something father having sex, let alone steamy sex. But how could he not when he was married to Asha—a tall, voluptuous, stunningly beautiful woman who oozed more sex appeal than most women half her age?
As Sterling chuckled sheepishly, Samara muttered in exasperation, “When other moms make toasts, they wish people health, happiness and prosperity. But not my mother. My mother tells a roomful of her guests to get laid.”
Asha smiled unrepentantly. “Oh, relax, darling. At least you didn’t have to cover any small ears this time.”
“Where are the twins?” Lexi asked, as much to change the subject as out of curiosity. If her face got any hotter, her head would combust.
“The boys already ate.” Samara chuckled wryly. “They were up at an ungodly hour this morning, pestering me and Marcus to take them exploring around the property. Mom’s gardener was kind enough to do the honors.”
Lexi grinned. “Given how huge this place is, you won’t see your offspring for a while.”
The two parents shared a conspiratorial look. “We know.”
Laughter went around the table.
“Don’t start the party without me,” came an amused drawl from the doorway.
Everyone turned as Quentin sauntered into the room with his lazy, rolling swagger. He was dressed in dark jeans that hung low on his hips and a hunter-green turtleneck that molded his wide shoulders and broad, muscular torso. As Lexi stared at him, she remembered the strength of his arms wrapped around her, the hardness of his chest pressed against hers. They’d hugged countless times before, but last night was the first time she’d ever wanted to cling to him, to rub her aching breasts against his body. She wondered if she’d ever be able to look at him again without reliving those heady, forbidden moments in his embrace.
As he approached the table, Michael wagged his head at him. “’Bout time you got here. My wife was seconds away from marching upstairs and dragging you out of your room.”
Quentin chuckled. “Damn. My bad.” He leaned down to kiss Reese’s upturned cheek. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting, baby girl. Forgive me?”
Reese grinned at him. “You’re forgiven.”
Lexi did a mental eye roll. It seemed that no woman was immune to Quentin Reddick’s charms. Not even pregnant, blissfully married women.
Quentin rounded the table and lowered his long body into the chair across from Lexi. As their eyes met, a strange ripple of awareness raced down her spine. The color of his shirt brought out the green flecks in his eyes, making them appear even brighter than usual. Piercing.
When he winked at Lexi, her heart fluttered like the wings of a caged bird. Mortified, she could only muster a feeble smile.
A team of servers bearing hot, fragrant platters of food appeared. Asha’s chef had prepared a lavish pancake breakfast, a New Year’s Day tradition in France.
As the meal got under way, Lexi found her gaze straying to Quentin as he conversed with Marcus beside him. As though she were seeing him for the very first time, she mentally catalogued heavy black brows, hazel eyes shaded by long straight lashes, a strong blade of a nose, ruthlessly hard cheekbones, a sculpted mouth and a square jaw. His face was far too masculine to ever be considered pretty, though his glorious golden complexion could inspire poetry when it gleamed in the sun—as it did now. He kept his black hair cropped close to his scalp, but whenever it grew out a little, you could detect the wavy texture he’d inherited from his late biracial father.
As her gaze returned to his lips and lingered, Lexi wondered how she’d never noticed just how lush and sensual they were. Her flesh heated at the memory of them moving slowly and possessively over hers, melting her body until she was nothing more than a quivering jumble of need.
