“Can I join you?” Diane Rivers didn’t wait for Heather’s reply but took the empty chair across from her at the lunch table.
Heather looked up from the tuna salad she’d been toying with rather than eating. “Hi, Diane.” Her thoughts had been far from the noise and activity of the staff lounge.
She’d spoken to Quinn again last night on the telephone, just as she had every night since they returned last week from Dayton. His deep sexy voice was the last she heard every night and the first she wished to hear each morning. As crazy as it seemed, she had fallen even more deeply in love with him—and they hadn’t been able to spend any time together. But tonight would be different. They had a dinner date, and she was looking forward to being with him.
“I’m glad you’re alone. I need to talk to you.” Diane was a very lovely toffee-toned black woman with thick black hair. She said, picking up her fork, “I want some answers and only you can give them to me.”
“Problem?”
“You tell me! I know that sounds a bit crazy, but I really don’t know what’s wrong. It’s Charles. He’s been so remote. Have you noticed?”
“I can’t say I have. He may be a bit self-absorbed. But I’m sure there’s nothing wrong,” Heather said, purposefully vague.
“You’re his best friend. If anyone would know what’s wrong it’s you.”
It was true that he’d been upset when Diane didn’t appear at the panel discussion or the school dance following. Surely he was over his snit? Heather was ashamed that she didn’t know the answer. She’d been too involved with Quinn and Cynthia to spare a thought to little else.
“Has he confided in you?”
The two old friends knew each other very well. Yet Heather was frankly surprised by Diane’s attitude. Maybe she did care about Charles more than she was willing to admit. “Exactly what’s bothering you?”
“He’s just been so evil! I don’t know what I’ve done to offend him or why he’s so angry with me.”
Before Heather could begin to formulate a response, she saw the man in question heading in their direction. They usually shared the lunch table. Charles was engrossed in conversation with the English department head and hadn’t apparently seen them. When he looked up, he frowned. Then he bypassed their table to join another group of teachers near the window.
“Did you see that?! That’s what I’ve been talking about. You two eat lunch together every day, but today he sees me here and suddenly he prefers to sit next to Glendale. You know as well as I do that he can’t stand that man. Heather, why is he acting this way?”
“Diane, calm down.” Heather sighed. “I’m sure whatever is bothering him can easily be settled between the two of you.”
Heather couldn’t tell what she suspected—that Charles had fallen deeply in love with Diane, and that he resented her relationships with other men. Charles would hang her from the nearest tree.
She was beginning to feel as if she were almost in the same situation herself. She loved Quinn, but their relationship was still so new. What if he found out she loved him? Heather didn’t want him to know her feelings anymore than Charles wanted Diane to know his.
And then there was the problem of Cynthia. At the moment she needed emotional stability and support. Heather didn’t think she was ready emotionally to deal with a woman in her father’s life, especially when that woman was Heather. Cynthia would probably view her as a threat.
“And how do you suggest I do that? He barely speaks to me! I’ve tried to talk to the stubborn man, but he only stares at me with a dense look on his face, as if he doesn’t know what language I’m using! The jerk! Oh, why do I care?” she fumed, taking a bite of her sandwich. “Men! I hate them all!”
“What about that sexy advertising executive you were dating? I thought he was really something,” Heather said between bites of salad.
“Frank? Too possessive. I went out with him twice and he started making demands. You know how I feel. When they start asking questions it’s time to say goodbye. Oh, he was good in bed—but so are a lot of guys.”
“So why worry about Charles? I’ve never known you to get upset over a man.”
“He’s different, and we’ve been such good friends. I just don’t understand. Heather, why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
“As you said, we’re friends. I can’t break a confidence.”
Heather didn’t want to be in the middle of their mess. She knew that Charles wasn’t about to share Diane with the half dozen men she fancied. He wanted to be the only man in her life. So why couldn’t he just tell Diane that and leave Heather out of it?
“Thanks a lot!” Diane said looking terribly hurt. “I thought we were friends! I even wrote to you about this job when you were in Chicago. And this is the way you repay me? Some friend you are.”
“Honestly, Diane. What’s wrong with you? You know good and well you don’t want to get involved with any one man. Or have you suddenly fallen in love with Charles?”
“Don’t be silly. He’s the only real man I know. He’s honest, straightforward, and the best-looking thing around. I’m not trying to get in his way. I just want our friendship to continue. He’s the only man I’ve ever been able to depend on. Besides, he understands me. But he’s not looking for a commitment,” she finished with a wistful smile.
If she weren’t so upset about Quinn, Heather was certain she would have burst out laughing. Talk about crazy! But at the moment she was a bit fed up with the silly games these two were playing with each other.
“Girl, you either want the man or you don’t. I don’t think he’s willing to let you play with his emotions, Diane. Isn’t that what’s really bothering you? You’ve met a man that can say no to you and mean it.”
“That isn’t true!”
“Well now, there’s nothing to worry about, is there?” Heather said, collecting her things. “I’ve got to go. I’ve a meeting with Mrs. Silvers within the hour and I haven’t completed the final revision for the summer school schedule. Are you going to teach the computer work-study this summer?”
“Yes... some of my best students are involved. Are you planning on working?”
Heather shook her head. “I’ll be concentrating on my dissertation all summer long. At the rate I’m going, I’ll be a little old lady before I’ve finished making sense of all the data.”
They reached the corridor outside the staff lounge when Diane placed a detaining hand on Heather’s arm. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have dumped all of this in your lap. But don’t you see, I need your help. Please, Heather.”
The hallway was crowded, and Heather had to stay close in order to make herself heard. “Frankly, Diane, I don’t see how I can help you. You’ve got to talk to him. Only he can you tell you what’s on his mind. Besides, even if he does care about you, and I’m not saying he does, but if he does, then you have to give something of yourself in return. He’s no different from anyone else. We all want to be first in that special person’s life.”
They’d reached the counseling wing. “I think you should really think hard about your motives, girlfriend.” Heather squeezed Diane’s hand.
“Will you speak to him about me?” Diane begged. “Tell him that I’d like for us to talk?”
“Yes. But give it time, okay?” Heather suggested, then waved and followed the side corridor.
“Heather, a Mrs. Backster from MADD called. They’ll be happy to aid the team of volunteers for prom night.” Joan Wilson, the secretary, serviced all five counselors.
“Great! Thanks, Joan.”
“You’ve a student waiting in your office, the Montgomery girl. And these are for you.”
Heather looked up in surprise as she handed her a florist’s box tied with a peach ribbon. The middle-aged woman smiled teasingly. “New man?”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me, thank Mr. Wonderful,” she laughed.
Heather smiled, her eyes reflecting her excitement. “Will you please tell Mrs. Silvers that I won’t have the summer school schedule until later this afternoon. I’ll bring it over when I’m done.”
Heather fought the urge to take a quick peek at the card as she jockeyed around two co-workers chatting in the doorway of one of the offices. Her office was the corner one at the end of the corridor.
“Hi,” she said, closing the door carefully behind her. “You been waiting long?”
“Just got here.” Cynthia returned her smile. “You busy?”
“I’ve always got time for you, kiddo. How are you today?”
“So, so. I spoke to my new counselor today, Mrs. Van Ervin.”
“And?”
“I don’t like her. Why can’t I have you?”
“You know why. We’ve already been over this a hundred times. We’re friends now. Our relationship is a personal one, not a business one. You’ve got to be a bit more patient. Give her a chance.”
“We’re still going tomorrow?” she asked hopefully.
“Naturally. Tour of the Museum of African-AmErician History, followed by lunch downtown and a movie, right? You nervous about staying over tonight with my nieces?”
“No... well, a little. What if they ask about me running away? What will I say?”
“They don’t know about it. Just have fun. That’s why you’re going, right?”
Cynthia grinned. “I have to go or I’ll miss study hall.” Cynthia gave Heather a quick hug before asking, “Who sent the flowers? A man?”
Heather gave a weak laugh. “A friend. How are things between you and your dad?”
“Better. Although he’s still upset about what I did.”
“He has that right.”
“But he’s not giving me any space. He’s been home for dinner every night this week. He does his work at home now, after I go to bed. He’s even taken to checking my homework.”
Heather held back a laugh. “Honey, you wanted his attention and now you have it.”
“Are you on his side?” Cynthia asked sharply.
“Nope. I’m on both your sides.”
“I wanted to do things with him and talk about stuff. I wanted to know he cares about me. I didn’t ask for a jailer.”
“That’s all a part of it,” Heather said quietly.
“Once he gets bored with playing father, things will be back to the way they were before,” Cynthia said dryly, but her eyes were filled with worry.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. He won’t have time for me again.”
“I think you’re wrong. Remember, your father loves you. That won’t change, no matter what.”
Cynthia nodded. “I’ve got to go. See you in the morning,” she called as she ran out.
Heather sighed. Quinn loved his daughter—but it looked as if time and some much needed therapy would eventually prove it to the girl. Now all she had to do was convince Quinn.
“Quinn...” She said his name aloud, reaching for the long box. Inside she found a dozen long-stemmed tangerine-tinted roses. Beautiful, she thought lightly touching the tender buds. Her hands were trembling when she opened the card: Tonight... Quinn.
“Oh, yes ...”
“You look good... really good,” Quinn said softly. He sat across from Heather at the candlelit table, enjoying her beauty. Two tiny orchids were pinned above one ear and her hair was swept to one side, allowing him to view the expanse of her creamy golden neck and shoulders. Her dress was a thin-strapped, silver chermuse sheath that seemed to have been made to caress her soft curves. A waterfall of tiny silver hearts dangled from her earlobes and silver chains on her wrist were her only jewelry.
“Thank you,” she said with a warm smile. She lifted the glass of sparkling champagne to her strawberry-tinted mouth.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Quinn knew he sounded like a broken record and felt like a kid on his first date. He’d planned their evening down to the last detail, hoping to make her brown eyes sparkle like semiprecious stones.
And he hadn’t been disappointed when they boarded the Star Gazer for an evening of dinner, dancing, and moonlight while the boat made a leisurely cruise down the Detroit River.
“Very much so.” Her eyes shimmered like diamonds. “The food, the wine, and especially the company are all exceptional. And the view!” She referred to the twinkling lights along the Canadian coastline.
“I’ve missed you this past week,” Quinn said, before confessing somewhat awkwardly, “This evening was meant to show you how grateful I am to you for all you’ve done to help me and Cindy.”
Heather dropped her lids, hoping to hide her hurt and disappointment. The last thing she wanted was his gratitude. What she longed for was his love. She wanted to be a part of his life and she wanted him to be a part of hers. But she said none of these things. It was too soon. Besides, love was something that had to be given... freely.
“How did Cindy do in school this week? She’s been an angel at home. I hardly recognize my own kid.”
“Very well. She’s trying to make up for her mistakes. She seems happier—I congratulate you.” Heather lifted her glass to him. “Knowing how you feel has made a world of difference to her.”
“I’m trying. Although it hasn’t been easy, especially now that her elaborate hoax has come out. Whenever I think of what she did I get angry all over again.”
Heather’s long lashes fluttered down briefly, concealing her eyes. They were wide and velvety brown when she said, “She can’t handle your anger, Quinn. She’s still too unsure of herself.”
“Yeah, I know. What do you think of Mrs. Van Ervin, the new counselor?”
“She’s good. Have you met her?”
“Yes. She seems competent,” he said dryly. “She recommended that Cynthia and I consider professional help. A family therapist.” A ball of tension had formed in his midsection. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what Heather was about to say, but he preferred the facts unadorned. “Do you agree?”
“Yes. Naturally, she and I have talked about Cynthia. The therapist was my suggestion. Cynthia has had some serious problems. It would be naive of us to believe that they will just go away.”
His eyes seemed to bore into her. “So you think my daughter should see a psychologist.”
“Yes, I do. She needs to be able to talk out her problems.”
“Can’t she do that with Mrs. Van Ervin?”
“Quinn, Cynthia needs therapy. She can only benefit from having a trained professional with whom she can work through her feelings... about herself, about you, and about the loss of her mother at such an early age. You know all the new challenges teenagers have now–drinking, taking drugs...”
“I wish you hadn’t turned her case over to someone else.”
“I didn’t have a choice. It’s unethical to work with a child that I’m so personally involved with—I’ve lost my objectivity.”
“I can’t find anything wrong in your caring about my daughter. She loves you—you know that.”
“And I love her, too. That’s one of the major issues—I can’t be her counselor any longer.” She sighed. “Quinn, when a girl loses her mother, she—”
He interrupted, “Do you know this Dr. Ann Johnson that Mrs. Van Ervin recommended?”
“Yes, very well. Ann Johnson and my mother are partners. I’ve also worked with her and observed her many times. She’s an older woman, specializing in counseling teens. She’s thorough and has a high success rate. But she insists on involving the entire family.”
“Are you saying she will want to see me, too?”
“Yes. She doesn’t work exclusively with the child. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll like her. She’s been written up in several leading psychology journals.”
Quinn scowled. He wanted what was best for Cynthia, but at the moment he wasn’t sure what was best.
“Please, Quinn, just meet Ann Johnson. Talk to her before you decide.”
“Okay, I’ll meet her. But that’s all I’m promising.”
“Thank you.” Heather smiled, lightly caressing his fingers as they worried the stem of his water glass. “I’m glad you haven’t told Cynthia about us, Quinn. I don’t think she’s ready emotionally to handle it.”
He nodded, looked at her closely. “You don’t feel it’s a bit dishonest?”
“No. Because neither one of us started out to deceive her. Our being together wasn’t planned.”
He frowned, hating the omission, but feeling helpless to do anything about it. “It isn’t fair to you, pretty girl. You shouldn’t be a damn secret.”
“We don’t have much choice.”
The waiter put in an appearance at their table. “Would you care to sample either our chocolate chip cheesecake or rum raisin pudding?”
“Cheesecake,” Quinn said without consulting her.
“Quinn!” She attempted to look annoyed, but her smile gave her away.
He chuckled. “Come on, Heather—you know you’re dying for a piece of that cheesecake. Huge chocolate chips,” he teased, unable to look away from her soft mouth.
Heather couldn’t hold out against his infectious laughter. She giggled. “You know me too well.”
He smiled slowly, his thumb ever so subtly stroking the delicate skin of her inner wrist.
It was impossible for her not to recognize the subtle change in his mood. Her cheeks flamed as she thought back to their lovemaking. She’d experienced the full force of his masculinity. She’d wanted him then... and she wanted him now.
“I’ve missed you.” His voice was low, seductive, revealing the raw hunger and disappointment he had experienced every night since they had been intimate. Long lonely nights that left him awake and aching for her sweetness.
“You’re embarrassing me,” she whispered.
“Why?” He took her small hand into his. “Because I’m man enough to admit that I want you?” His declaration sent a quiver of sexual excitement moving from him directly to her.
“Stop!” she whispered. “We’re in a room full of people.”
“No one can hear. I ache to hold you, to love you. Don’t you want me?” His voice was as deep and dark as his skin and exquisitely masculine.
“Oh, Quinn,” she said breathlessly.
“Answer me.”
“Yes,” she said very softly, yet matched the smoky fires in his eyes with a sultry glance of her own.
Quinn found he had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Heather...”he began, only to be interrupted by the waiter with their desserts. She would have withdrawn her hand, but he held onto it. The thick pad of his thumb worried the sensitive flesh between her thumb and forefinger.
Quinn released her hand so that she could use her fork. He sat watching her, fascinated by the movement of lips and tongue as she ate. His senses went into overdrive and he found he had to look away. Just knowing she wanted to be with him as much as he wanted her left him drunk with desire.
“Mmmm, delicious.” She smiled at him. “Gonna win the Jameison case?”
“Quick change of topic, baby.” Quinn smiled. “Well, it’s hard to tell. We should be able to wrap it up next week, then it’s up to the jury. The waiting can be torture, especially for my client. He’s been through enough.”
“I should think so. Being accused of murdering your wife and her lover isn’t an everyday occurrence.”
“Especially when you’re innocent. “Quinn said, pushing his plate to the side. “Let’s get back to discussing Dr. Johnson. You say she’s your mother’s partner?—I didn’t realize your mother was in private practice.”
“Oh, yes. She handles all kinds of clients but is particularly interested in substance abuse cases. In fact, my goal is to someday join Ann and my mother’s practice. That is, if I ever finish my dissertation.”
“Coffee?” the waiter asked.
Quinn grinned at her and went so far as to fold his arms over his chest, but said absolutely nothing.
Heather laughed. “Herbal tea, please,” she told the waiter. “Quinn?” she asked sweetly.
“The same, thank you.” Quinn waited until they were alone before he quizzed, “Was that for my benefit?”
“The laughter was at your expense. The tea, no. I happen to prefer herbal tea, Counselor.”
Quinn seemed satisfied with her answer. “All your course work done?”
“Yes.”
“Family loyalty won out?”
“Naturally. I didn’t even consider going anywhere but Wayne State. Of course, my advisor is one of my father’s colleagues. But my father has warned me that I’ll receive no preferential treatment. Did I tell you that my father was once my mother’s teacher? That’s how they met.”
“Romantic.”
“Very.”
“You’re a romantic.” He smiled. For some unknown reason that pleased him.
“Are you laughing at me?”
“Never that,” Quinn defended, stunned by the discovery that he wanted to be the only man to set her heart racing and her pulse whirling out of control.
He experienced a swift ache in his midsection when he reminded himself that no matter how much he wished differently, he had nothing to offer emotionally. His heart wasn’t whole.
Yet his breathing accelerated as the memories of Heather beneath him filled his head. Her soft, sweetly scented skin had been bare and his manhood had throbbed with the power of his desire for her. They’d searched for and found a mind-shattering release as one. Quinn had never experienced anything like it... not ever. The experience had left him hungry—always ready for more of Heather.
But would an intimate, mutually satisfying, exclusive relationship keep her happy? He could give her everything she wanted... everything... except love. Love meant marriage, and that part of his life was over. The seductive rhythm of the band on the upper level floated down to them.
Heather smiled dreamily. “The music sounds great.”
“Would you like to go upstairs and dance?”
What a marvelous idea, Heather thought—a legitimate excuse to be in his arms. “Oh, yes,” she said. A huskiness entered her voice, causing his eyes to darken even more.
Quinn rose from his chair and held her chair for her. He was so close that his breath warmed her cheek. His nostrils flared. Jasmine or orchids? He couldn’t decide. Whatever the scent, it mixed with her body chemistry to become an erotic temptation to his senses.
Quinn guided her with a slight pressure of his hand in the small of her back. He didn’t speak, concentrating on the graceful sway of her hips as she mounted the stairs ahead of him. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that her behind was as soft as it looked. He knew for a fact it was softer.
When they reached the small dance floor, he took her in his arms with more haste than grace. What was there about her that affected him so strongly? She was no great beauty. Hell, that was a lie. Heather was beautiful inside and out.
Her appeal went beyond the physical. It was her incredible sweetness and sincere wish to help others that he admired most about her. Her ability to give so unselfishly of herself and keep on giving fascinated him.
“What a great band,” she said, from where her cheek rested against his chest.
“You move well,” he murmured, dropping his head in order to enjoy her scent.
“So do you,” she said, lifting her head. Her soft thin braids ever so subtly caressed his throat.
Quinn struggled with his desire. Heather couldn’t help but feel his arousal, but she didn’t pull back. In fact, Quinn felt the tiny shiver that went through her as his thigh glided smoothly between her slightly parted legs as he swayed with her in time to the music.
“I know I shouldn’t feel guilty about taking the night off and enjoying myself. I’ve spent so many Friday nights in the library.” She laughed.
“Let’s get some fresh air,” he said sharply.
Many of the guests were taking advantage of the star-studded deck. Quinn and Heather found a somewhat secluded spot near the bow of the boat. Quinn inhaled deeply. He felt her studying him through the thickness of her lashes.
“Quinn, is something wrong? What happened in there?”
It was that blasted word that had triggered his memory. Guilt... He ate it daily, breathed it constantly, and probably perspired it nightly in the form of nightmares. He couldn’t get away from it. Hell, it wouldn’t let go of him. Peggy...
Quinn held himself responsible for his wife’s unhappiness before she died. He had done the only thing he could have under the circumstances. Yet Peggy was dead—while he was very much alive, able to enjoy another woman’s kisses... another woman’s body.
“Sometimes it helps to share problems,” Heather coaxed. She placed pink-lacquered nails on the navy sleeve of his jacket.
Quinn looked out at the churning water far below them. “I can’t,” he whispered. His throat closed around his inner agony. He surprised himself when he reached for Heather and held her against him.