Bill’s two weeks were hell, too.
First of all, Quinn had cut her hair and he hated it. Hated it. It gave him a headache to look at it. She’d looked so sweet before, like a mother, like his girl, and now she was different, farther away from him, and he hated it.
Of course, it would grow back. She was just going through a phase, and when they were back together, he’d say, “Please don’t cut your hair again,” and she’d be sweet like always, and it would grow back.
He couldn’t wait.
In the meantime, the BP was getting out of control. “We’ll start a rumor she’s screwing around with Jason Barnes,” he told Bill, almost cackling he was so happy. “That’ll get Jason off that damn play and make her come back to you to save her job. Pretty good, huh?”
Bill looked at him as if he were demented. “Quinn wouldn’t get involved with a student.”
“We don’t know that.” Bobby shook his head. “She’s been acting strange and that kid is always with her. I wouldn’t be surprised—”
Bill glared at him and he broke off. Quinn was not involved with anybody else, especially not a student, especially not Jason Barnes who was practically a son to him, Quinn was not with anyone else, nobody but him.
“It’ll work,” Bobby said, and Bill shook his head but let him go. He had a plan of his own.
He’d realized finally that Quinn was going to be stubborn about owning a house after she’d withstood all the city inspections he’d sicced on her in the past two weeks, so he’d decided he’d just find a good house for them to share. He really didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before, it was so obvious, so he’d call Bucky at the real estate office and when he found the perfect house, he’d show it to her, and she’d realize his was the better choice, and they’d move in together, and her hair would grow back, and he could concentrate on the team again. Not that four losses were anything to worry about.
“I’ll take care of Quinn,” Bobby said, “you just concentrate on winning,” and Bill ignored him because he’d had another idea.
People thought Jason and Quinn were together because they were working on the play. Well, he could work on the play. He could see Quinn every night if he helped with the tech. With that and the house—
Things would be back the way they should be in no time.
On Monday, the BP called Quinn to his office on her planning period.
“What is it this time, Greta?” Quinn asked.
“You’re ruining his life.” Greta kept typing, but she did manage to shoot Quinn a sympathetic glance. “At least life as he knows it. Go on in, he’s waiting.”
Bobby’s glare as she came in was even more self-righteous than usual.
“We have a problem,” Bobby said.
“Don’t we always?” Quinn didn’t try to keep the exasperation from her voice.
“As I’ve told you, Jason Barnes has been coming late to weightlifting and leaving early.” Bobby’s lips tightened and almost disappeared. “His involvement in this play is hurting his athletics. It has to stop.”
“And as I’ve told you, nobody’s forcing Jason to work on the play,” Quinn said. “I really don’t see what I have to do with this.”
“People have remarked on your relationship with this boy,” Bobby said. “I don’t want to have to call his parents.”
Quinn went cold; this wasn’t the BP being a twit, this was the BP being dangerous. “What people and what relationship and why would you call his parents?”
“People have seen the two of you together,” Bobby went on. “There’s a suggestion of intimacy.”
“He’s one of my students,” Quinn said. “He’s a great kid, but he’s a kid, that’s all.”
“You’ve been talking and laughing.” Bobby glowered at her. “He follows you around, and you encourage him and he’s not concentrating on the team. I’ve seen the way you—”
“I get it.” Quinn folded her arms and glared down at him. “You’re the ‘people,’ and you’re mad because you want Jason off the play and me back cooking dinner for Bill.” She wanted to kill the little tick where he sat; who was he to try this garbage on her?
“Others will notice,” Bobby said. “They probably—”
“Yeah, after you point it out so that even giving the kid homework will look like a come-on.” Quinn shook her head at him. “You’re not going to blackmail me with my reputation, Robert. I can’t believe you and Bill would stoop this low. You should be ashamed.”
“I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of,” Bobby blustered. “Nobody could ever accuse me of being too close to a student—”
That was for damn sure, they all thought he was a dweeb.
“—so the very fact that you’re vulnerable should tell you something.” He paused, smug, and she wanted to smack him because he was right. “You know better than this; teachers have to be above suspicion. You tell Jason he can’t work on that play anymore. Send him back to Bill where he belongs.”
“I’ll tell Jason you and Bill are concerned about his weightlifting,” Quinn said. “Anything else, you’re going to have to do. But I promise you this”—she leaned forward, intense because she was so furious—“you start any rumors about Jason and me, and I will file a grievance against you that will make Carl Brookner think you’re scum.”
He went white then, his brows drawing together in fury, and she felt better. It was the smug part that made her nuts.
“As long as you don’t say anything to anybody,” Quinn pointed out mildly, “you’re not vulnerable. And if you don’t say anything, there won’t be a problem because the only person around here with a slimy enough mind to even think I’d fool around with a student is you.”
“You be careful,” Bobby said. “You just be careful. People notice. People talk. They already think you’re crazy because you broke into the pound to get a dog.”
Quinn shook her head and left, pausing on her way out of the outer office to say to Greta, “You know, I think he’s losing it.”
“I’m sure of it,” Greta said. “Oh, and you had a message from the bank. Something about your loan.”
“Oh, hell,” Quinn said, but when she called, Barbara said, “I just wanted you to know your loan is through. You can come in any time and sign the papers.”
Quinn’s mind went blank. “My loan? What loan? I thought I needed more down payment.”
“It’s through,” Barbara said brightly. “Come in any time.”
That wasn’t like Bank Barbie, ducking a financial question. “I’ll come on my planning period,” Quinn said. “We’ll have a nice long talk.”
Barbara looked a little nervous in her neat gray gabardine suit when Quinn got to the bank. “I’m going to lunch in five minutes,” she told Quinn, sliding papers across the desk to her. “If you’ll just sign—”
Quinn nodded. “Good. I’ll come with you.”
“Well…” Barbara looked flustered.
“I want to know what happened,” Quinn said.
Barbara blushed. “I promised him I wouldn’t tell.”
“Him? Him who?”
Barbara looked over her shoulder and then whispered, “Nick.”
“Nick?”
“Shhhh.”
“We are definitely going to lunch,” Quinn said grimly.
Half an hour later at the Anchor Inn over French silk pie, Quinn was still grappling with the enormity of it. Nick wouldn’t speak to her, but he’d pony up half the down payment for her house. Exactly what train of thought had taken him there, she wasn’t sure, but she knew she was both grateful and furious—grateful that he cared that much and furious that he’d done it. Bill had gone behind her back to screw up the loan, that she was pretty sure of, and now Nick had gone back there, too, to rescue her, treating her as if she were a child.
“I can’t believe this,” she told Barbara.
“I think it’s wonderful,” Barbara said. “He’s taking care of you. You’re so lucky.”
“I’d rather take care of myself,” Quinn said. “I’d rather he treated me as if I were capable of taking care of myself.”
“Why?” Barbara looked at her so blankly that Quinn said, “I don’t get you. You have a real career at the bank, and you make good money. Why are you so fixated on getting a man to support you?”
Barbara drew back, two spots of color flaming in her cheeks. “I don’t need a man to support me. I’d never depend on a man for money.”
“Oh.” Quinn blinked at her. “Then why do you keep dating married men?”
“I don’t,” Barbara said, and the distress on her face was real. “I truly don’t. I never date them until they’re separated. It’s just so hard to find somebody to take care of you, you know? When you find a good repairman, you know you’re lucky.”
Quinn thought back to the string of men who’d tromped through her house on all those inspections. She’d looked at every one of them and thought, Are you taking me for a ride on this? Because I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. “Okay, I’m with you there, but they end up living with you, Barbara.”
“Only three of them,” Barbara pointed out.
“You’re only twenty-eight,” Quinn said. “Three married men by the time you’re twenty-eight is statistically significant.”
“I don’t date them while they’re married,” Barbara insisted. “I’d never date a married man. It’s just that when I find somebody who’s really good and can fix things, I have a lot for him to do.”
“So he comes over a lot.” Quinn nodded for her to go on.
“And then sometimes they ask me out,” Barbara said. “But I always tell them that even though I’m really, really grateful for how hard they’ve worked, and that I think they’re wonderful, because they are, I couldn’t possibly go out with a married man. Because I couldn’t.”
“And then they leave their wives,” Quinn said, light dawning. She could just imagine Matthew, after umpteen years with Lois bitching at him, having a young, beautiful blonde telling him he was wonderful.
“And then for a while it’s wonderful,” Barbara said, almost to herself. “And I feel so safe, and I know who I am because I’m with this wonderful man who knows everything.” She came back to earth and said, “But it always turns out he doesn’t. It’s so disappointing because they always say they do, you know? But they don’t, and you can’t trust them after all.”
“I think you’re supposed to love them for themselves,” Quinn said.
“Well, I do,” Barbara said. “Until they fail me.”
Quinn went back to the essentials. “Why would you want somebody who would dump his wife?”
Barbara looked dumbfounded. “People get divorced all the time. Nick’s divorced, and you’re with him.”
“No, I’m not,” Quinn said. “He’s not even talking to me.”
“Then why did he pay your loan?” Barbara said. “He must think he’s with you.”
“I don’t know what he thinks,” Quinn said. “I’m not even sure what I think. My world is going through a weird phase.”
“Darla Ziegler is living with you, isn’t she?” Barbara said.
Quinn frowned at her. “No. She’s just staying temporarily to work on the school play.” That sounded so lame she could see why Barbara wouldn’t buy it, so she ditched the excuses and went for the truth. “She hasn’t left Max. They’re still married.”
“If I had somebody like Max, I wouldn’t move out and leave him alone,” Barbara said. “I heard he was at Bo’s last night. That’s terrible.”
Bo’s. Oh, hell. “They are not getting divorced, Barbara,” Quinn said. “Forget it.”
Barbara flushed, and Quinn felt sorry for her. “You’ll find somebody wonderful who knows a lot who’s not married,” Quinn told her. “It’s bound to happen.”
Later, driving back to school, she realized that had been pretty patronizing. It wasn’t as if she were doing any better than Barbara, really. Barbara was at least getting her house worked on. Quinn couldn’t even get the guy she wanted to pay attention to her (although he’d pay her down payment, the dumbass), and she couldn’t get the guy she didn’t want to leave her alone. Fix your own life before you start on Barbara’s, she thought.
She started with Jason. “Mr. Gloam is upset that you’re doing both the play and baseball.”
“I’m not the one screwing the team up,” Jason said.
“He seems to think that would be me,” Quinn told him. “He also implied that our relationship might be, uh, more than teacher and student.”
“He’s whacked,” Jason said.
Quinn moved back as Thea came out of the storeroom with more paper. “I think so, too, but he can make life hell for me, so I’d appreciate it if you’d stand at least twenty feet from me at all times.”
“You’re kidding.” Jason looked disgusted.
“What’s wrong?” Thea said, and Jason said, “Gloam thinks I’ve got the hots for McKenzie.”
“He’s just trying to blackmail me into kicking Jason off the crew,” Quinn told her. “He doesn’t really believe it.”
“You’re not going to kick me off, are you?” Jason said, and Quinn shook her head. “Good,” he said. “This place is crazy.” He looked at Thea as he said it, and then went back to his seat, only to get up a few minutes later and say to her, “Listen, Thea, if Gloam shows up at practice, I’m sticking to you. Maybe he’ll think I’m after you instead of McKenzie and get off her back.”
“Are you that good an actor?” Thea said coolly, and Jason shook his head and said, “This place is definitely crazy.”
“Not just this place,” Quinn said and thought about Nick. He’d paid off her loan. He should be thanked for that. Her pulse kicked up a little at the thought. Exciting wasn’t turning out to be as easy as she’d thought it would be, but it was definitely worth pursuing. After ignoring her for two weeks, Nick should definitely be thanked.
Whether he wanted to be or not.
Darla was just finishing up Joan Darling’s blow-dry when Max came into the Upper Cut.
“There’s your husband,” Joan said.
“Is that who that is?” Darla said. Shut up, Joan.
“You been gone so long you probably forgot,” Joan said.
“There you go,” Darla said, shutting off the dryer before the back of Joan’s head was completely done. Let her walk around like that for a while.
“You and that Quinn aren’t fooling anybody,” Joan said as she got up. “We all heard the rumors, and Corrie Gerber said that Quinn admitted it right here in this chair.”
“Admitted what?” Darla said, but then Max was there, saying, “I need to talk to you,” and she walked to the break room with him following her while Joan watched them, avid for news to spread.
Max closed the door behind them. “How long are you going to pull this crap?”
“Which crap?” Darla said. “Living with Quinn instead of you? Until you give me a good reason to come home.”
“Well, I’ve got one for you,” Max said. “There’s a rumor going around that you and Quinn are sleeping together.”
Darla laughed. She couldn’t help it, he looked so indignant. “So are you afraid we are, or disappointed we aren’t?”
“It’s not funny.” Max glared at her. “You’re making me a laughingstock.”
“I don’t see how,” Darla said. “You should be getting a lot of sympathy. I bet those cookies are just piling up over there.”
Max’s face got red. “You really think I’d cheat on you? you really do?”
“No,” Darla said. “But I really think you still don’t get it.” He looked so unhappy she wanted to put her arms around him, but that would just get her back where she’d been. “We need a change, Max. We need to really look at each other again, take risks again, remember what it was like to really live again. If I come home, it’ll be like it always was, and I can’t stand that.” She stopped, knowing from the look on his face that he wasn’t getting it, that he was getting angrier instead. “Forget it.” She turned back to the door. “Just forget it.”
“Look, just tell me what you want and you can have it,” he said, his voice tired with exasperation.
“If I tell you, it doesn’t mean anything,” Darla said. “It isn’t anything specific. I just need you to realize that we’re turning to stone and we’re not even in our forties yet. I tried to do something different, and you wouldn’t pay attention. Now you try something. Surprise me. Prove to me we’re still alive.”
“I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about,” he said.
“Well, that’s why I’m sleeping with Quinn instead of you,” Darla said.
Late that afternoon, Nick bent over Marcy Benbow’s Jeep and thought about Quinn. And sex. He wasn’t comfortable with the two ideas in the same sentence, but he couldn’t get them out of his mind. So maybe he could talk her into doing it once, so they could get it out of their systems and go back to where they’d been before. One shot, that’s all he wanted. One chance to rip that underwear off her and roll her over and then back to the good old days like before. One fast forbidden fuck, and then—
Out front, a car door slammed and Barbara Niedemeyer walked toward the station door. She’d driven in her mom’s Camry this time, which made sense since they’d fixed everything on her own car. Nick ducked under the hood of the Jeep, planning on being too busy to talk. Ever since he’d paid the rest of Quinn’s deposit, Barbara had been beaming at him equally with Max. She was a nice woman, but not one he wanted anything to do with. Especially since his mind was full of Quinn and—
“Nick,” she said, and he jumped because she’d drifted right up next to him. Damn woman moved like a cat. “I have to talk to you.”
“Sure thing,” he said and straightened.
“Quinn knows about the loan.” Barbara looked guilty and delighted at the same time. “She asked where the money came from, and I had to tell her. I couldn’t help it.”
“It’s okay,” he said, and thought, Hell.
“She was a little upset,” Barbara said, and Nick winced. “But she was okay by the time we were done with lunch.”
“Good,” he said. “Well, thanks.” He nodded his good-bye and bent back under the hood hoping she’d leave, but just then Max came out of the office.
“Bringing your mom’s car in this time?” he called to Barbara jovially.
“I’m worried,” she said as she went over to him and handed him the keys. “She’s not getting any younger, and I want to make sure her car is safe.”
“Not a problem,” Max said. He filled out the work order, chatting as he wrote, and Nick stopped working on Marcy’s car when he realized that Max was taking his time, not trying to get rid of her.
No, he thought. Oh, hell, Max, don’t do this.
“So how you getting home?” Max said when he’d put the key and work order in the office.
“It’s not that far,” Barbara said. “It’s nice out today. I can walk.”
“I’ll take you home,” Max said.
“We got a lot of work here,” Nick said loudly from behind the Jeep.
“Dinner break,” Max said. “You hungry, Barbara?”
Oh, shit.
“I did have a light lunch,” Barbara said, her voice full of delight.
“How about the Anchor Inn?” Max said. “You’ve been giving us a lot of work. Only fair for me to buy you dinner.”
“Could I see you for just a minute?” Nick said.
“I’ll wait in the car,” Barbara said, and smiled at them both before she went out.
“Don’t start with me,” Max said to Nick.
Nick glared at him from behind the Jeep. “You are a fucking moron. Darla’s going to rip you in half, and that’s if you’re lucky, because otherwise, she’s going to leave your ass cold, and then where will you be?”
“Right where I am now,” Max said mulishly. “She doesn’t take care of what she’s got, she’s gonna lose it.”
“Maybe that’s the reason you lost yours, you butthead.” Nick slammed the hood of the Jeep down. “When was the last time you took Darla to the Anchor Inn?”
“She left me because she wasn’t getting bad lobster?” Max shook his head. “That’s crap.”
“Well, what was she getting?” Nick leaned against the Jeep, a lot more upset than he wanted to be. “If I had a wife like Darla who met me naked at the door, I wouldn’t be dating Bank Barbie. But you, no, you sit down and watch football tapes with me while she locks herself in the bedroom. What the hell was that all about, anyway?”
Max turned away. “I got to go now.”
“She probably cut her damn hair so you’d pay some attention to her,” Nick called after him. “Then you go to Bo’s. You’re fucking up here, you dumbass.”
Max turned at the door. “So why did Quinn cut hers, smart guy? I don’t see you doing real good, either.”
“Quinn is a friend,” Nick said.
“You are a jackass,” Max said and went out to meet Barbara.
It was all Quinn could do to keep her mind on the play tech that night. She was definitely going over to Nick’s after practice to thank him. Even if she hadn’t decided he was her ticket to excitement, she’d have had to go thank him. That was reasonable.
Maybe she’d go braless.
On the other side of the stage, something fell over with a crash, and she shoved Nick out of her mind and crossed to check out the new disaster. Jason and Corey were setting up the cardboard tube trees the Art Ones had painted, and she got there in time to see Corey pick up a tree trunk and hear him say, “That Thea. She’s something. How’d I come to miss her?”
“You’re still missing her.” Jason centered the dented trunk on the wheeled platform they’d be rolling it around on and began to bolt it down. “Forget her.”
“You going there?” Corey said.
“Nope. Not my type.”
Jason, you jerk. He was Nick all over again.
“Everything okay here?” Quinn asked.
“Just fine.” Jason shoved his hand into the trunk to push the dent out.
“Okay,” Quinn said and retreated to test the trees they’d already bolted. She was still within earshot when Corey looked back at Thea, bending over to hand one of the techies some duct tape at the edge of the stage, and said, “She’s my type. Look at that butt.”
“No,” Jason said, still tightening. “Not your type.”
Corey looked at him exasperated. “If she’s not yours, she can be mine.”
“She’s nobody’s.” Jason stood up. “Check out the second stepsister. She’s in our chem class. You missed her, too.”
“Which one?”
“The one with the big—”
“Got it.” Corey took another look at Thea.
“No,” Jason said. “Go ask the chem for help with your labs. You need it.”
Corey shrugged and said, “Whatever,” and went over to the chem.
She looked amazed and delighted to see him.
“You want to tell me what that was all about?” Quinn said, coming out from behind the tree.
“Nope.” Jason picked up the tech plan to take it to Thea.
“She’s allowed to go out, you know,” Quinn said.
“Not with Corey,” Jason said, and they both jumped when Bill said, “Quinn?” from behind them.
“Hey, Coach,” Jason said, and immediately crossed the stage to Thea.
Subtle, Quinn thought, and turned to face Bill.
“I thought maybe I could help,” he told her. “You know, an extra pair of hands.”
“No,” Quinn said, putting as much finality into the word as she could.
“Quinn, we need to be together.” Bill smiled at her, the same old smile that always said I know best, and Quinn felt her temper spurt.
“I can’t make this any clearer,” she said. “I don’t care if you start rumors about Jason and me—”
“I didn’t,” Bill said, outraged.
“—I don’t care what you do, we are not together and we’re not going to be.”
“I didn’t start that rumor,” Bill said. “I swear—”
“I believe you,” Quinn said. “That was the BP, I’ll give you that. But no more of this. Leave me alone. Go.”
He started to say something and then shrugged. “Maybe later,” he said, and she gritted her teeth as he trailed off the stage, making her feel guilty and then angry because she felt guilty. It wasn’t her fault. She was allowed to leave a man she didn’t want.
And seduce one she did.
At nine that night, after the last kid was gone and she’d checked the stage door to make sure it was locked, Quinn took off her bra and drove to Nick’s apartment, feeling cold and queasy from nerves and lack of underwear, still not quite sure what she was going to say to him—she’d rehearsed a hundred different conversations but none of them had seemed anything but desperate—and hoping the lack of support under her sweater might make a lot of conversation unnecessary anyway.
She climbed the stairs at the back of the station to his door, and when he opened it and looked startled to see her, she just said, “I heard about the bank loan,” and pushed her way past him, praying he’d give up and jump her fast so she could get past the nervous part.
“That was no big deal,” Nick said, but when she turned to face him, he’d shut the door and was looking fairly tense.
“It was Bill,” she said. “He went behind my back to screw it up.”
“That’s what I figured.”
“And then you went behind my back to fix it,” she said. “Pretty patriarchal of you, wasn’t it?”
“What?” He looked a little confused. “You’re mad?”
“Not really.” Quinn wandered over to the bookcase so she wouldn’t have to look at him because he looked so good, tall and relaxed, his shirt open at the neck. He was barefoot, too, and that seemed amazingly sexy.
What were they talking about? The loan. “I’d just like to know what’s going on in my own finances,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. “Instead of having the two of you duke it out behind my back.”
“It was more sneaking around behind your back,” Nick said. “Which isn’t that hard to do since I haven’t seen you much.”
Her heart lurched a little at that; he sounded annoyed. Maybe he’d missed her. “The play’s taking up our time,” Quinn said. “It’s going to be wonderful. Edie—”
“Want a drink?”
Quinn nodded.
He wasn’t throwing her out. He was plying her with liquor. These were good signs. While he went to get the Chivas, she flipped through his CDs, her hands shaking a little, looking for something vaguely seductive, something that wasn’t “Bolero.” When she found Fleetwood Mac’s Greatest Hits, she slipped that in the player. It had worked at her place. If only she had her mother’s couch here—
“Rhiannon” started, and Quinn flinched and hit the “up” button until she got to “Hold Me.” There was a great song. Catchy title. She turned to see Nick stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, a drink in each hand, a funny expression on his face.
“What?” she said, walking toward him to get her drink.
“Interesting choice in music,” he said. “So, you mad or not?”
He watched her seriously, meeting her eyes, and she felt her breath go because he looked so good, lean and dark and dangerous. She was almost afraid to make love with him, he was so different from anybody she’d ever slept with, but she was more afraid not to. She’d been missing out long enough.
“I’m not mad,” she said. “I’m grateful. I love the house. Thank you. I’m going to pay you back, of course, but thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
His eyes were still on hers, and the more he looked at her, the warmer she felt. But he was looking at her a lot, and that made her uneasy, too. She sipped her Chivas, trying to think of a nice topic of conversation. The weather had been good lately. Maybe—
“So why are you here?”
Quinn choked on her Chivas and then swallowed, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. “To say thank you.” His eyes were intent on her, watching her, predatory, not like he’d ever looked at her before. Even the time he’d kissed her, he’d been more reluctant than anything else. Something had changed. He wasn’t reluctant any more.
So maybe this wasn’t a good time. She could be reckless another day when he didn’t look so much like a serial killer. “Well, now that I’ve said thanks—”
She handed the Chivas back to him and he put it on the bookshelf, still watching her, half amused now because she was flustered.
“—I’ll just be going.” She looked up at him again, at his lovely hot eyes on hers over his glass, smug. She waited until he was drinking and then said, “Actually, I came to sleep with you.”
Nick choked on his Chivas.
Good. “But of course, you’re not interested—”
“Once.” Nick put his glass down a lot faster than she’d ever seen him move before.
She felt the ground tilt under her. “What?”
“Just once, to get it out of the way.” Nick sounded completely reasonable, as if he were telling her to get her teeth checked twice a year. “That way we can both stop thinking about it.”
Once, to get it out of the way.
So much for the great affair that would make her exciting. She opened her mouth and closed it again, trying to think of a witty and urbane way to tell him to go stuff himself and his little one-night stand, too. “So you’ve been thinking about it, have you?”
“Hell, yes.” He leaned against the bookcase so sure of himself she wanted to smack him. “So have you.”
“Once, to get it out of the way, huh?” Quinn’s voice shook a little with rage. Over her dead body. No, over his, the bastard. “That’s your plan?” She glared at him. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“I think I’m the fuck you want,” Nick said, and when she swung on him, he ducked under her arm and caught her to him, taking her mouth with his so completely that she stopped swinging to enjoy the heat and shudder he kissed into her, so relieved to finally have his arms around her.
Then she pulled away and said, “I’m furious with you,” and he said, “You’ll still say yes,” and pulled her back and kissed her again, sliding his hand under her sweater, moving his hands hard over her breasts and making her moan while she grappled with sanity.
The problem was the pleasure, she decided as she tried to get her mind out of the gutter. He was acting like a twit instead of Nick, all superior and macho, but he had beautiful hands, and he was finally really kissing her, kissing her stupid for that matter, his hands so hot on her that she shuddered and twisted, and when he slipped his tongue in her mouth she gave up and leaned into him.
“The bedroom is this way,” he said when they came up for air.
She said, “We’re still going to have that fight,” and he said, “Later,” and she thought, Right. Later.