Quest, Michaela and Tykira had just finished a fantastic Italian meal at Marone’s and were waiting on coffee and biscotti for dessert. Tykira and Michaela became instant friends the moment Quest introduced them. He barely had been able to get a word into the conversation as the two new acquaintances talked nonstop. Of course, Mick was quite intrigued with Tykira’s strong interest in what she’d always deemed a male-dominated profession. Likewise, Ty was just as interested in meeting the author whose family-saga biographies graced both her living room coffee table and her office bookshelves.
“You’ve got to tell me what it was like growing up around Quest,” Mick urged, knowing Ty must have had some fascinating stories about her husband as a youth.
“Let’s see,” Ty sighed, leaning back in the cream leather armchair she occupied. “If you’d like me to put it in one word, that word would have to be ‘crazy,’” she said, joining in when Mick burst into laughter.
“Hey,” a wounded Quest called from his spot at the table.
“Shh,” Mick retorted. “Go on, Ty.”
“Well, I say that in the most loving way, Quest.”
“Mmm,” was the low reply.
Ty shook her head. “Anyway, I didn’t have any brothers or sisters, so any child that was near was a welcome and needed playmate. My mom lucked out on snagging not only a job at Ramsey Group but she also snagged the guesthouse they owned just a ways from where Quest and Quay lived with their parents.”
Mick’s light eyes narrowed. “You say guesthouse like it holds special meaning?”
“Honey, guesthouse is not an accurate description of the place. It was incredible, and believe me when I tell you at least fifty guests could’ve lived comfortably in that place.”
“My family believes in treating their employees well. But Ty and her mom were more than that—they were practically family,” Quest explained.
Ty smiled. “Thanks, Q. I always felt that way even before my mom actually went to work for Ramsey. My grandparents both worked for Quest’s grandparents, then my mom worked for his dad and now I’m working for Quest…it’s somethin’ to wrap your head around,” she said, brushing a tendril of hair behind her ear before propping her chin to her fist. “We’ve grown up together for generations.”
Mick was nodding. “So, when the Ramseys moved to Seattle—”
“Oh, Mr. D asked my mom to relocate and she didn’t hesitate,” Ty said, referring to Damon Ramsey. “It was easy for her to do it since I was on my way to college in the fall. They even constructed a house close to the estate. Aside from us being in Seattle instead of Savannah, not much else changed,” Ty said, although a bit of the light had dimmed in her eyes.
Mick noticed. “Sounds like you had a pretty wonderful childhood,” she said, hoping to improve the mood.
Ty’s expression turned mischievous. “Let’s just say I’m glad I didn’t have to suffer Quest’s shenanigans around the clock. I could escape and go home at the end of the day.”
Laughter erupted once more, but quickly silenced when Quest caught sight of his brother across the dining room.
“What the hell…?” he breathed, drawing both Ty and Mick’s attention.
Mick shook her head when she saw what caused her husband’s outburst. Obviously Quay had decided to join them for dinner. Unfortunately, he didn’t come alone.
Ty noticed Quay and his date as well and prayed she’d pull off a convincing job of looking cool and unfazed. Though they were quite a distance from one another, Tykira knew the black, unsettling stare was focused right on her.
“Dammit,” Quest muttered, standing when Quay and his companion headed toward the table.
“What’s she doing here?” Quay’s first words were snarled in his brother’s ear once the distance closed between them.
“We invited her to dinner,” Quest shared, his usually low voice sounding a bit harsh.
Silence settled then and it was quite uncomfortable. To break the ever-thickening ice, Mick stood and extended her hand in a gesture of welcome to the woman at Quay’s side.
“I’m Michaela Ramsey, Quay’s sister-in-law,” she said with a smile.
The short, voluptuous beauty was completely oblivious to the disconcerting silence at the table. Clearly she was in awe of the devastating dark twins she stood between.
“Oh!” She gave a start, before giggling at herself. “Lisa—Lisa Melvin.”
“Lisa, so nice to meet you, and this is Tykira Lowery,” Mick introduced, smiling as the two women shook hands.
“Have a seat, Lisa,” Quest urged, already pulling out the one vacant chair at the table. “We need to talk,” he grated to Quay once Lisa was comfortable.
“What’s she doin’ here, Q?” Quay demanded to know as the two of them bounded across the golden-lit dining room.
Laughter lilted somewhere in the distance and they both glanced back to find it was Tykira, Mick and Lisa. “Obviously they hit it off,” Quest remarked in a sour tone.
Quay rolled his eyes. “Goody,” he remarked in an equally sour manner.
Quest stopped in an area just off from the lobby and folded his hand across the sleeve of his brother’s medium-blue wool blazer. “What the hell are you doing here with a date, Quay? After two years of actin’ like a hermit, you pick tonight to go out with a woman?”
“Nobody told me she’d be here!” Quay snapped in a soft, vicious tone, and wrenched his arm from Quest’s grasp. “I’ll be damned if I play third wheel for the fiftieth time and watch you and Mick play touchy feely all night,” he vowed.
Quest uttered a soft, humorless laugh. “Right, Quay, if we’d told you Ty would be here, you’d have probably shown up with two women instead of one,” he predicted.
“That hurts, Q,” Quay said, pressing one hand to the front of his white open-collar shirt.
“Truth always hurts, Quay.”
Quay stopped Quest from turning away by catching the cuff of the tan sport coat he wore. “Q, man, do you really think I’d do that to her?”
“This is a trick question, right?”
Quay released his brother. The spiteful remark sent his infamous temper to simmer. He knew he was merely a few seconds away from crashing a fist into his twin’s gut. Instead, he shoved that fist deep into his trouser pocket and pressed the other hand to his chest. “Q, I swear I’d never do that to her.”
“You did it before.”
“I was a stupid kid,” Quay excused, his midnight gaze filled with disbelief. “I thought I was protecting her. You know that. Tonight…I just wouldn’t have come at all.”
Quest looked away as he gnawed the inside of his jaw. Of course he knew that. He could look at Quay and almost feel the honesty radiating from his words, and yes, he could see that his brother appeared genuinely distressed over what had just happened.
“Hey guys,” Tykira said when she breezed over.
Their conversation was effectively stifled. Quay was speechless, enjoying the scent of Ty’s perfume that wafted beneath his nostrils.
“I just wanted to say good-night. I’m on my way back to the hotel,” she told them.
“What about dessert?” Quest argued, hating that his plan to bring his brother and Ty together that evening had unraveled.
Ty lifted the foil duck she carried. “I asked them for a doggie bag. I can’t eat another bite,” she sighed. “Anyway,” she whispered, leaning close to hug Quest, “good night. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” she said. She spoke a hushed good-night to Quay and was about to ease by.
“Tyke, wait,” he softly urged, his hand folding across the overlong cuff of her emerald-green off-the-shoulder sweater. “I’m sorry for what happened back there,” he apologized once Quest had walked off.
“Sorry?” Ty parroted, appearing confused.
Quay blinked. “Walking in here with a date,” he clarified, tilting his head as though he didn’t quite believe she’d misunderstood him.
Ty shrugged. “She seems very nice.”
“But I shouldn’t have come up in here with her on my arm. I’m sorry,” he went on.
“You don’t owe me any apologies, Quay,” she assured him, barely able to hear herself over the ringing in her ears. Clearing her throat, she flashed a pointed look toward his hand smothering her wrist.
Slowly Quay followed the line of her gaze. He winced, stunned by the rush of sensation he felt from the simple touch. Brushing his thumb across the pulse point below her wrist, he finally released her.
Tykira turned and left the restaurant. She ignored her desire to look back, knowing she’d never leave if she did.
“We already ordered dessert,” Mick was telling Quay when he returned to the table.
“Thanks, Mick, but, um, I can’t stay,” he said, fixing his date with a soulful, remorseful stare. “I’m sorry, Lisa, but something’s come up,” he told her, kneeling next to her chair as he spoke. “Would you be too upset with me if I took you home now?”
Thoroughly charmed by Quay, Lisa was far from upset. “It’s perfectly all right. But I’ll expect a rain check, and soon,” she softly requested.
Quay only nodded, brushing his index finger along the curve of her cheek before he stood. Quest and Mick could only shake their heads at the man’s suave demeanor. Clearly living the last two years like a hermit hadn’t affected his way with the ladies.
“Michaela, Quest, it was so nice to meet you,” Lisa was saying as Quay helped her from her seat.
“Oh, same here,” Mick replied, smoothing both hands across her black suede front-split skirt when she stood. She carried on the conversation with Lisa while her husband spoke with his brother.
“Where is she?” Quay asked.
“The Sorenson, room seventeen-thirty,” Quest supplied.
Ty literally let her hair down when she returned to her suite at the Sorenson. She exchanged the elegant off-the-shoulder sweater and slacks for more comfortable nighttime apparel of an oversized T-shirt and soft cotton shorts. Settling down in the living area with a bowl of the sinful Italian cookies from Marone’s on the coffee table, she started searching the TV listings for a suitable movie. She was about to turn on the impressive plasma screen when the doorbell rang.
Munching on a mouthful of the crunchy cookies, Ty grimaced and reluctantly left the sofa. She helped herself to another bite of the treat and was chewing heartily when she opened the door.
“Quay!” she cried, crumbs spewing past her lips.
Having worn a fierce scowl for the better part of the evening, Quay couldn’t help but laugh at the picture she made. Her hair was deliciously tousled, eyes wider than usual, her incredible legs bared by the Broncos T-shirt and short athletic shorts she sported. A pang of emotion struck someplace deep in his stomach and he admitted that he didn’t think he could let her walk away from him this time.
“What—” she paused to swallow a mouthful of cookie “—what are you doing here?”
Instead of a verbal reply, Quay took her arm, closed the door and led her inside the suite.
“I wanted to apologize,” he told her once they’d returned to the living area.
Ty rolled her eyes and shuffled past him. “For the second time, Quay, you don’t owe me any apologies,” she said.
Quay didn’t hear her. “Mick and Quest invite me to dinner almost every week. It’s sweet and I love ’em for thinking of me,” he said, his smirk striking a gorgeous right dimple, “but I spend the better part of the night watching them play the ‘newlywed game’ at the table, if you know what I mean,” he added.
Ty nodded in response to the suggestive remark. “I do,” she confirmed, pressing her lips together.
“I had stopped going, but today Mick made a huge deal about my going out with them and how long it’s been. Anyway, that’s why I showed up there with Lisa tonight,” he continued, smoothing a hand across the back of his wavy, closely cut hair. “It was a last-minute thing. I hardly even know her,” he finished, then focused his deep onyx eyes on her face as though waiting for her to utter words of forgiveness.
Instead, Ty was moved to ask a question. It was a question her powerful voice of warning demanded she not ask. Of course, she didn’t listen. “Why are you going to the trouble of telling me all this?”
“I just don’t want you to think I’d hurt you that way,” came Quay’s soft response.
Ty couldn’t look at him. “You’ve done it before,” she reminded him. With an edge to her voice she added, “Not that you have to worry about having done that tonight. As much as you seem to love believing that I spend all my time pining for you, I can assure you that isn’t the case.”
Hearing the words spoken from her lips instead of his brother’s didn’t fill Quay with anger as they’d done earlier. Instead, he felt sick—sickened by himself and the way he’d treated her all those years ago.
“Listen, Quay, all this is in the past, you know? Let’s not rehash it, okay?” Ty decided quickly, shaking her head as if trying to rid her mind of past dramas.
Quay watched her take a seat on the sofa and decided to join her. “Why aren’t you staying with your mom?” he asked.
“She’s on vacation,” Ty shared, taking the TV listings from the coffee table and scanning them again. “Anyway, you know how I hate being alone in that big house,” she added.
Quay’s chuckle caused his deep-set eyes to crinkle adoringly at the corners. “Yeah, I remember. Damn, how many times did you stay at our house when your mom was working late?”
“Lots,” Ty replied, with a flippant shrug. “Besides, your house was just over the hill. If that wasn’t a convenient babysitter, I don’t know what was,” she reminisced, not wanting to remember those happier times. “Anyway, that’s why I’m here,” she sighed, feeling his unwavering gaze focused her way. He made no further comments and his stare never wavered. Ty began to grit her teeth from agitation. Even the delicious biscotti she’d been snacking on was starting to leave a sour taste in her mouth.
“Did you just come here to apologize again?” she finally asked, losing her battle at patience.
Quay nodded. “I did.”
“Well, I’d say you’ve done that,” Ty decided, and stood.
Quay tried to keep his hands away, but couldn’t. Slowly, his fingers brushed the lush curve of her thigh left bare where the hem of her shorts ended.
Ty could feel her every nerve ending charting a path toward the most sensitized part of her anatomy. Her lashes fluttered and she lingered close to the touch, savoring the fire igniting there. The simple, barely noticeable caress almost forced a moan to her parted lips.
“Good night, Quay,” she told him suddenly. The danger of remaining close for a second longer had become all too real.
Standing then, Quay blocked her way. “Not yet,” he cajoled, his fingers trailing just a fraction higher.
Ty closed her eyes. “Don’t do this,” she urged, hating the pleading tone of her voice. The soft huskiness of her voice made the simple request sound desire-filled and needy.
Quay lowered his head, his cheek brushing hers gently as his thumb began to graze the swell of her bottom. “I missed you,” he whispered next to her temple.
“Mmm, I figured, judging from all the calls I’ve gotten over the last fifteen years,” she said, celebrating the firm tone of her words even as her nipples tensed against the fabric of the jersey. Finally, uttering a quick sound of frustration, she surprised herself and pushed him away. She smiled when the shove she supplied to the unyielding breadth of his chest caused him to stumble a little. Capitalizing on his momentary imbalance, she sauntered around him and headed for the front of the suite.
“Get out,” she ordered, flinging open the door.
Quay was slow to comply. Eventually, he straightened and moved forward.
Ty kept her brown gaze averted, knowing he’d never believe she was serious about him leaving if he looked into her eyes. Quay stopped just at the threshold, invading her space once again. He brushed his thumb along the curve of her cheek. The intense dark of his eyes practically smoldered with need. He saw her blink once, twice, three times and knew her feelings were still there—as powerful as his own and surging just below the surface.
“I did miss you, Tyke,” he said, and then he was gone.
After leaving the Sorenson, Quay drove around for a while trying to clear his mind of Tykira Lowery. God, she was still everything he’d ever wanted. Every woman he’d known since had barely scratched the surface of ruling his heart and soul the way she did. And he was confident that it would be easy to coax her into bed.
Flexing his hand around the wheel of the Navigator, he gave a smirk. Coaxing her into bed would be more than easy, it would damn well be satiating as hell. But what would it solve besides a hoard of raging male hormones that he barely managed to conceal to a state of semiarousal in her presence, rock hard and throbbing when he was alone with thoughts of her rampaging his senses. No matter how many times he took her, it would do nothing to drive her from his mind, he’d simply want more. No matter how many women he had, it would do nothing to force Tykira from his thoughts. His quest to find the woman would never end until he had her.
The long, thought-provoking drive eventually led Quay back into the city and to Double Q. The upscale jazz and R&B club/restaurant he’d opened years ago with Quest was growing more successful every month. Seattleites and tourists alike made a point of visiting the elite dwelling. As usual, the place was packed, with even more waiting outside, hoping for an opportunity to party inside.
Quay spoke with the security crew who usually collected in the state-of-the-art surveillance booth just off from the club’s entrance. Later, he headed for the bar and took a glass and a bottle of Hennessey to his office nestled far in the back. Preparing to dim Tykira’s image from his mind with the power of the dark drink, Quay was already breaking the seal on the bottle as he headed for his desk. It wasn’t long before he discovered he wasn’t the only one who’d sought refuge in the solitude of the paneled office.
A big grin flashed on Quay’s face when he saw his cousin, Yohan. “As I live and breathe, history is being made this night.”
“Don’t start, man.” A slow, canyon-deep voice rose from the depths of the room.
Quay wouldn’t be discouraged. “Now, wait a minute, wait a minute. A moment like this calls for recognition. It ain’t every day I see the notoriously reclusive, antisocial Yohan Ramsey daring to grace our humble place of biz with his presence.”
Yohan couldn’t resist his cousin’s contagious humor. A smile brightened his unforgettably gorgeous face as he tilted his glass of Jack Daniel’s in greeting.
“What’s up?” Quay inquired, while shrugging out of the wool blazer he’d worn that evening. “Something’s gotta be goin’on to bring you out,” he added, knowing that his cousin’s preferred choice for an evening escapade was a night of movies at home, listening to music in his library or, if he was feeling especially claustrophobic, high seas fishing.
Yohan’s dazzling gold herringbone chain sparkled at his neck when he shrugged. “Just wanted to get out, man.”
“Mmm-hmm, right,” Quay threw back, rolling the sleeves of his eggshell shirt above his forearms. “We need to mark this one on the calendars,” he continued to tease. “What’s the date?” he asked, already headed for the huge wall calendar behind his desk.
Yohan massaged his temple. “Quay—”
“Come on, man, what’s the date?”
“My anniversary.”
Quay tugged on his bottom lip and winced. Closing his eyes, he uttered a muffled groan. Damn, this was his second screwup of the night. He was rollin’ now, he thought.
Glass and bottle in hand, he took a seat across from Yohan. “Sorry, man,” he apologized, setting his burden onto the coffee table.
“Forget it,” Yohan instructed slowly. His very deep-set brown eyes seemed to cloud as they filled with a question. “How long does it take to get over the only woman you every really gave a damn about?” he asked finally.
Quay’s long brows rose briefly. Of course, he couldn’t answer the question, since the reply would have been “never.” Somehow he didn’t think that would have done his cousin any good. “Why don’t you give Melina a call,” he suggested instead.
“And say what, man?” Yohan snapped, the mere mention of his estranged wife’s name stirring his frustration. “What do I say to her, Quay? I miss you?” he probed, his syrupy slow voice holding minute traces of humor. “Does it work, Quay?” he added. The look on his first cousin’s face was answer enough. “Thought so,” he threw back, propping his feet against the coffee table. “Hell, Quay, what right do I have to say something like that to her after the way I treated her? I got no rights at all after the way I did her.”
“You still love her, man,” Quay argued in a soft voice. “You still got a right to love her and that gives you the right to change where things stand between y’all.”
Yohan’s chuckle could chill a spine as quickly as it could incite the need to laugh. “Is that what you tell yourself about Ty, man?”
Quay shook his head, grinning as he swallowed a bit of his drink. “I’ve never told myself that about Ty, but I think it’s damn time I started.”
“My team should be arriving within the next few days and then we’ll be able to get firm ideas down,” Ty shared during a morning meeting with Quest and the top executives at Ramsey Group. Quay wasn’t there, which in Ty’s opinion made the gathering far more enjoyable.
“Well, unless anyone has more questions…?” Quest stood and posed the usual request, pausing to give time for anyone to speak. “In that case, meeting adjourned,” he said, when the group remained silent. “Ty? Stay as long as you like. I’m heading out,” he said.
“Thanks!” she called, already sealing her notes in the chic, black leather portfolio she carried.
Alone in such spectacular surroundings, Ty took the time to stroll around the fantastic office. She’d never had the opportunity to do so before and was determined to give herself the grand tour. Bobbie had often told her daughter that the office was the inanimate replica of its owners: dark, darkly overpowering and then some. Tykira was studying a painting above the gas fireplace when the elevator doors opened.
“Quest?” Ty called, hearing someone move about in another part of the office.
Quay stilled, having retrieved a stack of mail from his desk. After last night, he figured it was best that he not attend the meeting that morning. He hadn’t planned on Ty still being there, but no way was he about to complain. Tossing the mail aside, he followed the sound of her voice.
Tykira left the painting and went to say her goodbyes to Quest. Her steps slowed, then drew to a complete halt when she spied the man in the doorway.
It wasn’t the olive plaid suit coat he wore over a coordinating gray-black shirt and no tie that made him appear such a force, it was his stance. Quay’s demeanor always struck her as silk sheathing a sword. It was as though he were ready for confrontation, always on guard in spite of the easy aura that followed him like mist. Unconsciously, she took a step backward.
“Looks like I missed the meeting,” he noted.
Ty glanced down at her black suede boots and smiled. “I get the feeling you planned it that way,” she challenged softly.
Quay nodded, easing one hand inside his trouser pocket. “I didn’t know you’d still be here,” he told her.
Ty cleared her throat and tucked the portfolio beneath her arm. “That’s about to change,” she said.
“Tyke,” he called, smoothly hindering her progress to the door.
Just as smoothly, Ty evaded his grasp. “What do you want, Quay?”
He didn’t mean to allow his desire to flash so quickly but he couldn’t help it. She was like a drug he’d only sampled once and was dying to try again. His thoughts were almost totally centered on what it would be like to have her now.
“Incredible,” Ty breathed, her lovely doe eyes narrowing with disbelief. “You have no real feelings at all where I’m concerned, do you? It’s just like yesterday to you, isn’t it? The way you treated me so long ago?”
“Could you accept an apology based on the fact that it was so long ago?” he asked quietly, stepping forward, his dark eyes studying her face.
“The things you said at the reception weren’t so long ago.”
Quay winced as though she’d slapped him. “I can’t believe you remember that,” he whispered, humor lacing the revelation.
Ty’s lashes fluttered. “I remember everything,” she said, refusing to break eye contact. By then, Quay was standing right before her. She had dressed for business, stylish and impeccable in the straight, front-split skirt and matching one-button blazer. Still, the familiar feeling of being diminutive and sweetly feminine and powerfully aroused all swirled together.
Quay’s piercing eyes studied hers as though he could read her mind and knew how he affected her.
“You remember everything, hmm?” he taunted, simultaneously tugging her close and taking her mouth in a throaty kiss.
Ty couldn’t think to resist, only to curl her fingers weakly around the lapels of his jacket.
“Quay,” she moaned helplessly when the kiss broke for a split second. She needed him more in this basic way than he could ever know. Moaning again, she began to mimic the motions of his tongue. She thrust hers deeply into his mouth and trembled when he groaned in response.
Their bodies were a perfect fit; always had been. The kiss was like heaven. His hands roamed her body, skirting her hips then traveling upward to mold her torso beneath the snug blazer. He touched her with the patience of a skilled, giving lover who possessed the power to make her swoon, gasp and beg for fulfillment.
This was the man, Ty thought, crying out softly when his big hands cupped her breasts. He was the only man she’d ever felt even remotely compelled to give herself to. For her there was no other, she admitted, feeling his fingers slipping inside the front of her blazer to stroke the lush cleavage rising over the top of the lace camisole she wore.
The realization chilled her suddenly. No, for her there had been no other. Sadly, he didn’t feel the same. And never had.
Quay could sense a change in the way she responded to his touch. Something had chilled and he knew she was having second thoughts about her participation in their encounter. He released her slowly and with great reluctance. As though it were the most important task, he removed the lipstick smudged at the corner of her mouth with the pad of his thumb.
When he walked away, Ty pressed her hand to her heart as though that would slow its rampant beating. She prayed her legs would support her until she made it to her car.