“I’m sorry,” Quest uttered for the fifth time before the weak apology was followed by another round of laughter.
Quay needed something to keep his mind off the woman lounging naked in his tub. It was either call to vent to his brother or have a few drinks and build up the nerve to go and take what he wanted. Of course, he realized the latter option would probably earn him a busted lip or a shove down the stairs.
“Thanks a lot, Q,” he sighed, his dilemma not stopping him from chastising his twin’s bouts of chuckling.
“I am sorry, man. For real,” Quest swore and cleared his throat in hopes of swallowing what remained of his laughter. “I just can’t believe you left her up there without making a move on her.”
“I’m losin’ my edge, Q.”
“No, you’re not. You’re gaining one, if anything.”
The perception didn’t put Quay at ease. “Gaining what, man?” he snapped. “Some punk mentality? Maybe a better word would be stupidity.”
“Wrong. You’re gaining a sense of what it means to love and respect one woman so much that you put what she needs above what you want.”
Quay massaged his eyes. “What the hell does that mean, Q? I’ve always loved and respected Tyke.”
“But not enough to keep her close—to be honest with her, right?”
Silence.
“You’re in a different place now, my man,” Quest pointed out. “This time you won’t be able to just walk away. Not for any of the thousands of reasons you could find to justify it. You’re gonna stay and you’re gonna fight to keep her.”
“What if she doesn’t want to stay?” Quay had to ask. “What if she’s finally had enough?”
“Dammit, man, just tell her how you feel. No beating around the bush this time. Tell her. If that doesn’t convince her…you’re in trouble.”
“Thanks,” Quay spat.
“There’re no easy answers here, Quay. You really screwed things up royally. I can’t blame Ty for being suspicious.”
“Speaking of Ty,” Quay said after he was silent for a while. “I asked her to call me when she was ready to get out of the tub. Q, man I need to go,” he decided, knowing Ty would most likely try to get out on her own.
On the way back upstairs, Quay recapped what his brother had said. He had to come completely clean with her. Of course, he knew why he hadn’t. It was something he could only admit to himself. He was afraid. Afraid that she really wouldn’t believe him and then he honestly wouldn’t know what to do. Shaking the unsettling thoughts from his mind, he took the steps two at a time, until he was on the wing to the guest bedroom.
He approached the bathroom from the hall entrance and knocked. “Ty? Tyke?”
There was no answer and he guessed she’d gone and gotten out of the tub on her own. He twisted the knob and stepped inside the bathroom. Sensual shock washed over his face when he found her still in the water and asleep. The bubbles were long gone and there was nothing covering her svelte dark frame lying prone beneath the fragrant water.
“I can’t do this,” Quay whispered, backing away from the tub as he spoke. “Ty?” he called, hoping to rouse her without having to touch her. “Ty?” he tried again.
She never stirred.
“Dammit,” he muttered, kneeling beside the tub then. He bowed his head in a vain attempt to keep his gaze averted. She was in a deep sleep; tiny snores slipped past her throat as she slumbered.
Quay rolled his eyes and faced the obvious—there was no way he could leave her there any longer. He took a bath sheet from one of the unfinished oak cabinets and carried it to the bedroom. Then, he tossed another across his shoulder.
“You’re a gentleman, Quay,” he chanted. “You’re a gentleman,” he kept telling himself as he removed his watch and rolled the sleeves of his shirt above his muscular forearms. Effortlessly, he took her from the lukewarm water. His every hormone sizzled in response to what he was viewing—what he was holding.
Ty had obviously washed her hair, for it was wet and hung in wavy, black ribbons. He held her close to his chest and carried her from the bathroom. His grip was firm in order to prevent her slick form from slipping from his grasp. The sound of his own teeth gritting filled his ears as he fought to keep his composure.
Tykira didn’t stir once during the brief trip that seemed to last for an eternity to Quay. He placed her on the bath sheet he’d spread upon the bed, and would not allow himself the treat of letting his eyes linger over her incredible form. Instead, he focused on the cast she wore and remembered that she was recovering. Dutifully, he began to rub the other bath sheet across her body. He performed the task in a brisk, efficient manner until his baser instincts strengthened. Then, the strokes slowed and became more lingering. Soon, he was smoothing the bath sheet across spots he’d already dried.
Ty fidgeted in her sleep and mumbled something incoherent, before tossing one arm above her head. The movement thrust her breasts more prominently upon her chest.
Quay stopped pretending to still be focused on drying her and simply watched. The bath sheet fell from his hand when he lost patience with sight. One hand clenched into a fist and hid deep inside a trouser pocket, the other traced the curve of one breast with the tip of his index finger. He leaned close, pulling the hand from his pocket and bracing it against the bed while brushing his mouth along her temple. He palmed the plump, chocolate mound of her breast more possessively. His thumb just barely grazed a tender nipple.
“Mmm….” she responded in her sleep.
The sound was like a dash of cold water to Quay. He snatched away his hand, muttering harsh curses to himself. Quickly, he found a cute, but concealing pair of pajamas. He dressed her rapidly, gritting his teeth again as he eased a pair of lacy panties over her hips. Once done dressing her, Quay almost sprinted from the room.
Ty woke about two hours later, content yet mildly confused as she studied her surroundings. Then, she remembered she was at Quay’s. She remembered something else, too—she’d been in a tub of bubbly water. Now, she was deliciously cozy in a new pair of pj’s. She couldn’t recall making the transformation, so he must’ve done it for her.
Her groan filled the room then. She experienced her embarrassment posthaste as she thought of what a sight she must’ve been—all seductively nude with a big cast on her foot.
But what of Quay? Had he taken advantage of her submissive state? She didn’t think he had, sure she would have felt certain aftereffects. Should she ask him? Would she embarrass him? Hmph. It’d serve him right for making her stay with him, knowing all he had to do was look at her long enough and she’d most likely beat him to the bedroom.
Gingerly, Ty pushed herself up and swung her legs across the side of the bed. Switching on the nightstand lamp, she smiled. Her crutches and wheelchair waited across the room. Tossing her hair, which had dried to a wavy mass down her back, she made her way to the crutches and headed out the door.
“What are you doin’?”
Ty was halfway downstairs when she heard him bellowing to her from the bottom.
“I don’t believe you,” Quay ranted, curving a hand across the banister as he glared, “coming down here in a cast, on crutches and by yourself no less. Do you want that damn ankle to heal, Ty?”
“I can’t stay up there all night. I have to eat,” she argued, unfazed by his voluminous reasoning.
“I was going to bring it to you,” he said, coming up the stairs to finish helping her down. “You can relax in the living room while I get everything heated.”
Ty’s hand tightened around his. “I hope you weren’t waiting on me to eat?”
“I wasn’t hungry,” he insisted softly, leading her to a huge, worn black suede armchair. He set a pillow behind her back and made sure she was comfortable before leaving.
Ty dozed in and out, completely at peace in the mellow room, with Marvin Gaye crooning in the background.
“It smells great,” Ty complimented when Quay came to collect her from the living room about thirty minutes later. “Did you cook?” she teased in a suspicious manner.
“I never cook.” He eased her curiosity with a haughty look. “That’s Quest. But my ordering skills are gourmet.”
Ty laughed, allowing him to help her from the chair and out to the kitchen. Quay had set the cozy round table for two and the meal it carried looked as wonderful as it smelled. Quay had ordered Italian and there was a veritable feast. For the next ten minutes, they contented themselves on filling wineglasses and loading their plates with Chicken parmesan and angel hair pasta tossed with perfectly seasoned steamed vegetables.
“I can’t seem to remember getting back into bed after my bath.” Ty mentioned after they’d been eating a while.
Quay continued eating and only offered a shrugged shoulder for reply.
“Do you happen to know how I got there?”
The bath was the last thing Quay wanted back at the forefront of his thoughts. It had been there for the better part of the evening.
“Quay?”
“Hell, Tyke, yes I know how you got there. Who else would’ve gotten you out? I’m the only other person here.”
But Ty was taking great pleasure in torturing him, seeing him so out of sorts. Besides, she had a nagging curiosity to hear him tell her exactly how he’d managed.
Quay could feel her staring and gave in. Muttering a curse, he slapped his fork to the table. “I took you out of the tub, I dried you off—”
Ty smiled when his onyx stare wavered and he coughed.
“I, um, I dressed you.”
Slowly, Ty nodded. “Thank you.”
Quay bowed his head, slicing another morsel of the succulent chicken parm. “I did what had to be done.”
“Mmm…and you always do what has to be done?”
“Mistaken again, that’s Quest. I’m far more selfish.”
“Ha! You get no argument from me there,” Ty blurted, taking a swig of merlot.
“It wasn’t intentional,” he said, setting aside his fork, “not where you were concerned.”
Ty kept her eyes trained on her plate.
“Our conversation in the car,” he continued, folding his arms across the front of his shirt, “you asked about the weekend—if it meant anything to me? Did I just want sex from you because you were there?”
“Quay, stop,” Ty urged, looking up from her plate then. “You don’t have to—”
“You asked if my taking you there was really about Wake Robinson. You asked if I was trying to protect you then, too.”
“Quay, I mean it,” Ty insisted, her warm brown gaze now fiery with determination. “I don’t want you to get into that. I should’ve never brought it up in the first place,” she said, forcing her chair away from the table. “I don’t need an explanation. I don’t want one.” She stood and immediately stumbled on her cast. She waved a hand toward Quay when he moved to help her. She shook her head and hobbled over to the hutch where the crutches leaned.
“Fool,” Quay growled, knocking a fist to his forehead when Tykira left the room. What was he thinking, hitting her with that her first night out of the hospital? She probably thought he was about to lay another line on her. A few seconds later, he heard a thump followed by a curse.
“Dammit, Ty,” he chastised when he left the kitchen and found her seated on the stairs where she’d taken another stumble.
“I’m fine,” she insisted, tugging on the frosty pink top to her pj’s. “Quay, no,” she again insisted when he lifted her against his chest.
Of course, he didn’t release her, but carried her to the guest room. He tucked her in before taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his dark eyes filled with genuine regret as he voiced the apology. “I was wrong to come at you with that. Especially tonight. I mean that.”
She nervously trailed a hand through her hair. “I just don’t need you feeling like I need you to explain. I was wrong for bringing it up in the first place. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Quay brushed his thumb around the curve of her mouth. “That can’t be true when it made you so upset just a little while ago.”
Ty couldn’t look at him, and kept her eyes on her lap.
He didn’t push. “Get some sleep,” he told her instead, pushing a lock of her hair behind her ear when he kissed her cheek. “Good night,” he said before moving back. “And don’t come downstairs in the morning. I’ll bring breakfast to you.”
Ty only smiled and waited for Quay to pull the door closed behind him. Then she flopped back in bed and pulled the covers above her head.
“Hey!”
“Hi, you sound out of breath, did I catch you at a bad time?”
Mick switched the phone to her other ear. “Not at all. You caught me on my way out of the study. What’s up?”
“Good,” Jill sighed. “I know it’s late, but—”
“Are you kidding me? It’s only 9 p.m. here. Besides, I’ve been on pins and needles waiting to hear something,” Mick cried, then cast a quick glance across her shoulder to see if Quest was near. “How did it go?” she asked more quietly.
“I tell you, getting this exhumation approved almost sounded the end of things. But everything went through incredibly well.”
“And?”
“Jackpot.”
“You found something?”
“Mick, every piece of physical evidence that was somehow separated from the official reports was found with Sera’s body.”
“My God,” Mick whispered, feeling a nauseous rumble float through her stomach in response to Jill’s news. “What exactly did you find?” she asked.
“Let’s see.” Jill spoke as though she were looking through the evidence then. “Aside from the clothing she wore on the night of the murder, there’re samples—lab samples all labeled nice and neat. Whoever wanted this information out of the way wielded some mighty influence.”
“How could Patillo have managed this—to hide evidence this way?” Mick asked.
“From what I understand through conversations with members of the staff when Patillo was C.M.E., the man ruled that place like it was his own private kingdom. He had free rein to do as he wished—no questions asked. Not to mention the caretaker at the cemetery—Mr. Sawyer Reynolds and Patillo were old fishing buddies. It was probably no trouble at all for him to convince the man to…assist him in hiding the evidence. The only question now is, what or who could’ve persuaded Patillo to put his career on the line this way?”
“Yeah…” Mick replied, her thoughts wandering. “How long will it take to get the evidence tested?”
“I’ll get to work on it right away and call you ASAP.”
“Thanks for everything, Jill…yeah, we’ll talk soon.” Mick set the phone aside and thought about what she’d just discovered. She tried to shake off what she was thinking, but it wouldn’t go away. Again, the nausea roiled in her stomach and that time it sent her sprinting for the bathroom.
Ty dressed in the private guest bathroom the next morning. She’d selected one of the lovely sundresses Quay had supplied her with. She had no idea the lavender chemise-style frock would favor her curves so adoringly, but it was too late to change now.
“Tyke! Breakfast!” Quay bellowed from the bedroom.
Sighing resolutely, she grabbed her crutches and headed down the short corridor which connected the bath and guest room.
“Will you join me?” she offered, watching as he placed a food-laden tray upon the bed. “Looks like you’ve got enough,” she noted wryly.
“I’d planned on it,” Quay said with a bashful grin, “but thanks for offering.”
Silently, they took their places on the bed. Quay’s dark gaze was hooded as he watched Ty move around in the dress. He cleared his throat and focused on selecting a muffin when she looked up and found him staring.
“Thanks for making me feel so at home, Quay,” she said, hoping to dispel some of the heavy emotion in the room. “You’re quite the host,” she complimented, tucking one foot beneath her when she sat on the edge of the bed.
“Truth is, I never entertained a houseguest before,” Quay shared, adding a few slices of cantaloupe to his plate.
“Bull,” Ty sang, selecting a plate and fork.
“I didn’t mean I’ve never had an overnight guest before, but I’ve never had one I’ve wanted to stay longer,” he clarified.
“Thank you,” Ty drawled, smiling over the way he tried to smooth the admission.
For a while the twosome ate in a peaceful silence. Then Quay hissed a curse when he noticed the time.
“Gotta bounce, Tyke. Another meeting with the Holtz Enterprises,” he explained, setting aside his plate.
“Oh,” Ty said, obvious disappointment reflected in her brown eyes, “another meeting, huh?”
“Yep,” he confirmed, hearing the next question before she even spoke a word.
“Quay, do you think I—”
“No.”
“But—”
“No.”
“Dammit,” she snapped, pounding her fist on the bed. “Won’t you let me finish?”
“Not if you’re about to ask to go to this meeting,” Quay said, about to leave the bed.
“Please,” she said, folding her hand across his wrist to prevent him from rising. “Please, Quay,” she begged, scooting closer to him. “I’d just be sitting there. What harm could it do?”
Quay shook his head while watching her intently. He knew he was seconds away from giving in.
“Please,” Ty urged once more, inching as close as she could.
Losing all ability to restrain himself, Quay leaned in to kiss her. The surprised gasp Ty uttered in response afforded him the opportunity to simultaneously deepen the kiss and position her neatly in his lap. Her casted foot dangled next to his trousered leg while she straddled him. Quay moaned when he felt her cupping the rigid, pulsing part of his anatomy that most wanted her attention. The kiss went on, growing deeper and hotter. Quay’s hands applied a penetrating massage to her hips and the small of her back. He settled her closer, groaning when Ty became an even more eager participant in the kiss. Her fingers toyed with the open collar of his shirt, teasing the powerful cords in his neck, before her hands curved around his shoulders. Quay couldn’t resist palming and fondling her breasts, manipulating her nipples to stiff peaks beneath the satiny bodice of the sundress. He played in the heavy darkness of her hair as tirelessly as he splayed wide palms across her thighs. When he would have pulled away, she kept his hands where they were and urged them higher.
“Tyke…” he moaned, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against her shoulder. “The nurse will be here soon. She’s got a key. I’ll see you later.” He quickly delivered the words while setting her away. Then, he was gone.
Hearing the door close, Ty grabbed a hearty apple walnut muffin. She slathered it with butter before chomping voraciously in a weak attempt to clear the encounter from her thoughts.