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Damn.
And he’d come to New York in person, rather than handling the details of placing the ad over the phone or through the mail, not only because he was considering purchasing new wilderness gear from a sporting goods outfit run by an old friend, but because he’d secretly hoped to have one last sexual adventure before seriously beginning his wife search.
With all his heart and soul, Quinn believed in monogamy. His parents, who’d had a solid, loving marriage for forty years and still counting, provided him with a blueprint. Once he made a commitment to a woman, he’d be hers for life. But until he found her, well, he was a red-blooded male, after all. He had physical needs. Needs that were growing stronger by the minute.
He’d known from the moment he’d watched Kay Freemont board the plane that he wanted her, and then to find her working in the office of Metropolitan magazine—unbelievable! He’d taken it as a positive sign that she was supposed to be his passionate last fling. But now, to discover that she was practically engaged. Where did that leave him? He wasn’t the sort of guy who came between a woman and her almost fiancé.
Then again, what the hell did “practically engaged” mean, anyway? Quinn ran a hand through his hair. Where he came from, either you were engaged or you weren’t. Maybe it was a New York thing.
“Well.” Kay nodded and looked rather uncomfortable with the assignment of baby-sitting him for the rest of the afternoon. “Well.”
Had her boss’s edict to wine and dine him left her at a loss for words? Or was it something more? Was it meeting him again?
Dream on, Scofield.
And yet, that was exactly what he wanted to do. Dream on and on and on of taking her to bed. Seeing her in her work environment, amid people who obviously admired and respected her, looking so professional and self-possessed in that short-skirted purple business suit made him crave her even more. Did she have any earthly idea what those magnificent legs of hers did to a man? Women who were practically engaged and possessed legs like Thoroughbreds should not be allowed to wear skirts like that! There oughtta be a law.
Damn, but the woman blew him away! Her cocoa-brown eyes simmered with a suppressed sexuality that begged to be brought to a boil. When he had turned and spied her beside Judy Nessler, adrenaline walloped him in the gut.
Now, simply standing here next to her, inhaling her scent—a fetching combination of vanilla ice cream and sharply scented cinnamon sticks—his body came alive. To the point where he wished for a bucket of ice cubes to chill his throbbing member.
“Your cologne smells nice. What’s it called?”
“White Heat.”
He angled her a glance. “White Heat, huh? It suits you.”
“Pardon?”
He could tell by the way she pursed her lips that he’d unnerved her. “You’re like white heat. You’ve got this cool, outer demeanor, but inside, there’s a deep, smoldering flame.”
She gulped. He watched her struggle to control her features. She hated giving away her thoughts, he realized, and she’d mastered the art of suppressing her emotions.
How he longed to unsuppress her. To teach her how to open up and say exactly what was on her mind.
“Uh, let me get my bag and coat and change my shoes.” She gestured in the direction of what he supposed was her office. “And we can grab some lunch.”
She dashed away, leaving him to rein in his hormones, and returned a few minutes later wearing a black leather coat with an oversize purse thrown over her shoulder and a pair of Nikes on her feet. He almost laughed at the sight of her in that glamorous business suit and shod in running shoes, but once they were out on the street, he noticed a lot of the women similarly dressed. He commented on it.
“Try walking twelve blocks in high heels. You’d carry a spare pair of sneakers in your bag, too.”
“We don’t even have blocks in Bear Creek.” He grinned.
She gave him a strange look as if he was speaking Mandarin. And it struck him then how different their lives were. He could survive alone in the Alaskan wilderness for weeks if necessary, but in New York City, he feared being unable to survive something as simple as crossing the street. He couldn’t understand how people lived here day in and day out. The pollution, the noise, the crowds. Eventually it had to drive you out of your mind.
Kay stepped off the curb and raised her hand. A taxi glided to a stop at their feet.
How’d she do that? he marveled. When he’d tried to get a taxi to carry him to the magazine office, he’d been ignored. Was he so obviously an out-of-towner? Or did she know some taxi-halting secrets? Then again, if he was a cab driver, he would willingly risk whiplash to jam on the brakes for those legs.
Quinn moved to open the taxi door for her. Kay gave him an odd look, then scooted across the backseat of the cab to make room for him.
“You don’t have to do the he-man routine with me.”
“What?” He stared at her, puzzled.
Kay could tell he had no clue what she was talking about. “You know. First the door to the building, now the cab. I can open my own doors, you know.”
“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just habit. My mother drilled good manners into my head. I’ll try to stop if you want.”
“No. Please forget I mentioned it.”
She immediately felt badly for saying anything. She had to remember he was an Alaskan and obviously rather old-fashioned. He probably carried a clean hankie in his shirt pocket at all times in case some damsel burst into tears. Plus, she was accustomed to Lloyd only opening doors for her when they were around other people. Putting on a show to impress his business associates.
Honestly, she’d never met anyone quite like Quinn.
Kay took him to a Cuban restaurant that served to-die-for mahi-mahi with mango chutney, black beans, rice and fried plantains. And as she suspected, he told her that he’d never tasted anything like this exotic fare as the food disappeared from his plate.
He also told her stories about Alaska. About his loyal friends and loving family. Then he asked her questions about New York. He spoke with such open animation, she was helplessly drawn to his enthusiasm. He didn’t play games, he didn’t pull punches. Her parents would probably have thought him too loud and too eager, but she found his down-to-earth candor refreshing.
“So tell me,” he said after he’d polished off the last crumb of key lime pie. “How long have you been ‘practically’ engaged.”
She could tell by the way he said “practically” that he found the notion ridiculous. “Lloyd and I have been dating four years.”
“Your guy’s commitment-phobic, huh? Hasn’t gotten around to popping the question, but you’re expecting him to?”
“No, that’s not it. I mean, well, actually, he did ask me to marry him a few days ago.”
“So you are engaged.” His tone was flat. She saw disappointment in his eyes.
“No.”
“You turned him down?” Hope flared fresh in his face, and the sight of his renewed optimism confused her.
“No.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand. You told him you’d think about it?”
“It didn’t happen that way. Listen, I really don’t feel comfortable discussing my personal life with you.”
“Okay.” He gave an easy shrug, but she could tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted to dig deeper. What she didn’t know was why, but she certainly wasn’t going to open up and spill her guts to a stranger.
Not even her closest friends knew what was in her heart. She’d been taught by her father, the cutthroat businessman, that the more people knew about you, the more they could use against you. Once, when she was a little girl, her father took her to work with him. When his secretary asked her if she’d rather be playing in the park, instead of touring a stuffy old building, Kay had responded with an enthusiastic yes. Her father then jerked her into his office and lectured her until her ears burned about expressing her true feelings to underlings. She never forgot that lesson.
Quinn cleared his throat. The waiter refilled their coffee cups.
“I’m sorry about what I said,” Kay said. “That sounded bitchy.”
“No need to apologize. You’re right. It’s none of my business. It’s just that if I was dating a woman like you, I wouldn’t have waited four years to ask you to marry me.”
“Which raises the question, if you’re not commitment-phobic yourself, how come you’ve stayed single so long?”
“Not a lot of women to choose from in Bear Creek. And most of the tourists that come to town are looking for a summer fling. And who’s to say I’ve never been married?”
“Have you?” Kay lifted an eyebrow. Although she hated answering personal questions herself, she had no compunction against asking them. Enjoyed it, in fact. Perhaps that’s what attracted her to journalism. The opportunity to discover the intimate details of others’ lives without revealing any information about her own.
“Came close once.”
“What happened?”
“Now I’m the one who’s uncomfortable discussing my private life.”
“Whoever writes the feature article on you is going to want to know the answer to these questions.”
“Then I’ll save the interview for that reporter.”
Silence.
“So in general, what qualities do you look for in a woman?” She spoke lightly, but every cell in her body stood at attention as she waited for his answer.
“I don’t really want a career woman. I know it sounds old-fashioned, but I see myself with a woman who’s mainly interested in making a home. I want kids. And I like the idea of providing for the woman in my life.”
“Oh, I see. The caveman mentality. Keep ’em barefoot and pregnant.”
“I don’t mind if she wants to work,” he expounded. “But the children and I should be her priority. Just as she and the kids will be my top priority, not work, not a job. Family and friends. That’s what counts. Don’t look so disapproving. I’m being honest here.”
“I’m not disapproving. You’re misconstruing my expression. Besides, does it matter what I think?”
The truth was, she’d been thinking that she’d never heard a New York male express such a sentiment or, for that matter, even admit to wanting children. She found it oddly refreshing, even though one side of her wanted to argue that women could have both prosperous careers and happy, well-adjusted children if they learned how to juggle.
His gaze was on her face. He was running his index finger around and around the rim of his coffee mug in a slow, languid motion that made her feel dizzy with desire. “My ideal woman has to be tough. She’s got to be hardy enough to brave winters in Alaska.”
“What about beauty?”
“Beauty’s good, but not really important. I mean, there’s got to be sexual chemistry between us, but I’m not looking for perfection. On the contrary, I think a little sass, a little attitude spices things up.”
“Really?”
“And even though I’m ready to settle down, I’m not willing to settle. When I get married, it’ll be forever. Until then—” he grinned “—I’m up for whatever adventures come my way.”
“Oh.” At this, Kay took heart. Perhaps he might provide that illicit affair she was yearning for, after all.
“So what do you look for in a man, Kay Freemont?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Then how do you know if Mr. Practically Engaged is the right one for you?”
She winced. “Please, I—”
“Oh, right, no personal questions.”
“How long are you in town?” She changed the subject and wondered what she was going to do with the information. Wondered why her heart was pounding.
“I fly out at seven-thirty on Wednesday morning. Tomorrow I’ve got an all-day thing with my friend from Adventure Gear. I’m thinking of switching over to their climbing harnesses, and he’s taking me on a climb upstate.”
“Ah.” Her hopes plummeted. No time for a wild fling.
He reached across the table and lightly grazed her hand with the tips of his fingers. It shouldn’t have been an erotic gesture, but it was.
“You could come to Alaska,” he said, reading her thoughts as clearly as if they’d been etched on her face. His habit of expressing exactly what was on her mind was uncanny and, frankly, a little disturbing. “Write that article for your editor. We could have a lot of fun together, you and I. Why not consider it?”
Astounded by the sensations that surged through her at his touch, she slipped her hand away. She never did answer his question.
After lunch he wanted to see the Empire State Building, so off they went. Quinn moved through the crowd like a redwood among matchsticks. On more than one occasion, she noticed women’s heads turn as they shot him appreciative glances. She felt oddly jealous.
And strangely aroused.
More aroused, in fact, than she’d ever been.
While Quinn admired the view from the top of the Empire State Building, Kay admired Quinn.
She couldn’t seem to draw her gaze from the ripple of muscle in his forearm where he’d rolled back the sleeves of his mackinaw. It was as if he knew how much she loved sexy forearms and was simply taunting her with a view of his.
She studied his strong profile, raked her gaze down his shoulders to his back before stopping to blatantly admire his delectable fanny so prominently displayed in snug-fitting blue jeans.
Raising a hand to her throat, she inhaled deeply, hauling in an unsteady breath. Quinn turned from the railing, a wide, boyish grin on his face. Kay smiled back.
“Wow. So many people. So many buildings. So many yellow-checkered cabs.”
She nodded.
The wind gusted. Shivering, Kay used a pillar as a windbreak. She crossed her arms over her chest and danced from foot to foot.
“You’re cold,” he said, and she found it touching that he’d noticed. He stripped off his mackinaw.
“I can’t take your jacket. It’s freezing up here.”
“Honey,” he said, and she did not take offense at his easy endearment; rather, she found it kind of charming. “Where I’m from this would be considered a heat wave.”
He stepped closer and settled his mackinaw around her shoulders, wrapping her as tenderly as a mother swaddles her baby.
“Thank you.” Her voice emerged as a breathless whisper, and she realized they were the only people still on the observation deck. The cold had forced everyone else back inside.
“You’re welcome.”
Quinn peered down into her face and damned if little Miss Too-Cool-for-School didn’t look nervous. The tip of her tongue darted out to wet her upper lip. Was her gesture an unconscious invitation to kiss her? God, he hoped so, because he wanted to do that more than anything in the world.
“Uh—” she took a step backward “—perhaps we should go now.”
