Liz told herself she should be careful. Quentin's voice was having a lulling effect on her. “What tipped you off?” she asked lightly, teasingly. “The Victorian rocking chair? Or the brocade furniture?”
He smiled. “That helped. Your house says a lot about you.”
“You have me at a disadvantage there.”
His eyes gleamed. “That's easy enough to correct.”
Liz realized he was teasing her, but still her heart jumped. “No, thank you. I have other plans.”
She felt hot all over, not really sure how to handle this “new” Quentin, and said breathlessly, “The music's stopped.”
Quentin reluctantly let Elizabeth go and followed her back to their table, where Lazarus had zeroed in on Lloyd Manning. When Elizabeth excused herself, Quentin settled back into his seat.
There were things about Elizabeth that touched him deeply. Always had. On some level, he mused, he'd known and refused to acknowledge it. That's why he'd avoided her all those years ago.
Now she'd grown, matured, and if anything her siren song was even more seductive for him. Her movements, her voice, her lovely face, they all called to him. But even more than that, he recognized her cool reserve for what it was. A front, nothing more. Just like his own professional demeanor.
If their similarities held true, underneath the cool reserve, Elizabeth was a passionate, giving woman. He'd already seen glimpses of it in her uncharacteristic sarcasm at the barbecue, and, God knew, in her response to his kiss.
His experience with women told him that he and Elizabeth were a combustible mix. One that he'd enjoy exploring and testing—if there weren't strings attached.
She'd turned down his offer, as he knew she would. He'd been joking—or told himself he was—when he'd invited her to his house. He'd wanted to establish some of the lightheartedness she had in his relationships with his brothers. But he'd also been disappointed.
Because the bottom line was he wanted her. That's why he'd reacted so strongly to her news about the sperm bank. That's why he'd growled at his brothers.
He took a sip of his wine. Yep. That was it. But just how far was he willing to go to have her? Disturbingly, right now he didn't have an answer.
Four
Returning from the fertility clinic on Tuesday afternoon, Liz pulled up in front of her home on a tree-shaded block in the northeastern section of Carlyle and immediately noticed the black BMW.
Could it be—?
Before she could finish the thought, Quentin came striding around the corner of the house.
Her mind ran through the day-care project. She still had two days to get a more detailed plan to Noah.
Her eyes connected with Quentin's, and he stopped for a split second before striding toward her car. She accepted the hand he offered to assist her out of the car, steeling herself for the usual tingle along her nerve endings.
“I've been waiting for you.”
“I see.” She concentrated on keeping her voice even. “What can I do for you?”
She'd started for her front door and he'd fallen into step beside her.
“Allison asked me to stop off and pick up the decorations that you have for her cocktail party tomorrow night.”
She'd designed small candle and dried flower arrangements for Allison's party tomorrow night for her coworkers. Her usual florist had dropped them off that morning. “I thought Allison was swinging by tonight for those.”
He followed her into the house and loosened his tie. “Nope. She had an emergency court appearance this morning. She'll be burning the midnight oil tonight.”
“Poor Ally.”
“She called me a little while ago, knew I was in Carlyle and heading to Boston later. Asked if I could bring her the stuff.”
He loomed in her office, making the space seem small. She tried not to think about the last time he was here. “I'll get the boxes for you,” she said quickly.
“So where were you this morning?” he asked while she went through the boxes lying beside her desk.
She felt her face heat and cursed her Irish complexion for the umpteenth time. Too many years of Girl Scout training got the best of her however, and she heard herself say, “If you must know, since everybody seems to know my business these days, I had my appointment at the fertility clinic.”
“How'd it go?”
“Fine.”
“Think it's going to work for you?”
“Yes.” She straightened and smiled brightly at him. He had his hands shoved in his trouser pockets and an inscrutable look on his face.
She nodded at the five white boxes she'd separated from the rest and stacked beside her desk. “Well, here they are. I'll help you put them in the car.”
“Right.” He strode toward her, and she took a step back, feeling the edge of her desk at her backside. Any hope that he hadn't noticed her involuntary reaction was quickly dashed however.
Stopping so close she had to tilt her head back, he asked, “What's the matter, Elizabeth? Have you been thinking about what I said the other night?”
“About donating money to BookSmart?” She shook her head. “I don't collect the money personally. Contact the public relations office.”
He smiled. “No, the other night when we got back here to your house. You know what I mean.”
“No, I don't have any idea what you mean.”
“Liar.”
“Are we going to engage in name-calling again?” The air between them was heavy and charged.
He bent towards her. “Why don't we kiss and make up instead?”
His arms came around her and his lips captured her mouth. She knew she should stop him, but somehow that thought quickly became lost in the swirl of feelings rising inside her.
He rubbed gently, softly, against her mouth, then caught her bottom lip between his lips and sucked. Whereas his first kiss had been all deliberate seduction, this was a more subtle assailing of her senses, a more quiet awakening of her needs.
She felt hot and aroused, sensations curling through her, urging her to cast off inhibitions. When his tongue entered the warmth of her mouth, she met him, stroke for stroke, fueling the heat.
She'd never experienced these heady feelings with another man. And certainly not with a mere kiss!
She felt a pulsating warmth that coursed through her with a slow, deep, mounting intensity. His hands roamed up and down her back, caressing and molding, and she moaned, her hand coming up to the back of his head, urging him closer.
Abruptly, Quentin pulled back. Breathing deeply, he shot her a penetrating look. “Don't tell me you haven't thought about that. We were on fire there.”