When they emerged from the restaurant after dinner, Allison piped up, “Why don't I ride with Noah? His condo is mere blocks from mine in Downtown.” Turning to Quentin, she asked, “You're heading back to Carlyle, aren't you, Quent? You wouldn't mind dropping Liz off, would you?”
Liz expected to hear an immediate protest from Quentin, but was nonplussed to hear him concur. “Sure, no problem.” He gave her a sardonic smile.
Oh, my. She was in trouble. Noah bent over to give her a peck on the cheek. “I'll catch up with you when I get back.” To his brother, he added, “Can I trust you with sweetness here?”
Quentin gave his brother a bland look. Something significant and unidentifiable passed between them and led Noah to chuckle before turning away.
All too soon she was alone with Quentin, whose sure and capable hand at the small of her back led her to a black BMW the valet had just driven up. “Buckle up” was all he said before they pulled away.
They drove in silence. Ominous silence, in Liz's opinion. Like the calm before the storm.
The inside of the car seemed too intimate a space, with the dark pressing around them and Quentin in the driver's seat.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He was looking straight ahead, apparently focused on the road. She wondered what he was thinking.
Of course tonight must have looked exactly like what it wasn't, but she had a logical explanation. Unfortunately, she didn't have the courage to give it without prompting, and he wasn't giving her any encouragement at all.
As they neared Carlyle, she gave him directions to her house. He parked in her drive, helped her out and escorted her to the door.
She fumbled in her clutch for the key and managed to get the door open. “W-well, thank you for din—”
“Invite me in.”
It wasn't a request, it was a demand. She nodded and he followed her in, closing the door with a click of the lock.
Three
Her house, Quentin took mental note, suited Elizabeth. The first floor, or the front part of it at least, obviously functioned as her office. Victorian furniture with brocade cushions adorned the room. Vintage teddy bears perched on a small corner table and a quilt covered a mahogany rocking chair in another corner.
Feminine. Maternal. Elizabeth.
She started walking toward the back of the house. “Coffee or tea?”
No, just you, please.
Now where the hell had that unbidden thought come from? He was here to make sure she understood that Noah was off-limits to her. And the sooner she understood that, the better. “What the heck were you doing with my brother?”
She halted and turned to face him. “We were having a business meeting.” Her tone was cool, but her heightened color betrayed her.
He moved toward her. “Stay away from Noah. He's not potential daddy material.”
She belatedly recognized the threat that his approach posed and feinted to the left. He was faster, however, and moved to the right and caught her, his hands gripping her upper arms. “Last week you were setting your sights on me.”
“A mere momentary lapse, I assure you,” she bit back, trying to shrug him off.
“Am I passé already?” She smelled of lavender and felt even more fragile in his arms than that purple flower. Her movements were also bringing the tips of her br**sts in contact with his chest. How horrified would she be to discover that her actions were having the unintended effect of arousing him? “What if I said I was too hasty in turning you down?”
“Too late.”
“Don't you think you're being a little rash? I'm a much better catch than Noah.”
“Y-you…” she spluttered.
“But I like to do a little research before closing a deal.” One kiss. That's all, he promised himself, bending his head.
“You promised Noah you could be trusted,” she gasped, her heart beginning to race.
“Did I?” he murmured. “I don't think one little kiss is a problem, do you?”
She tried to focus on why one little kiss would be a problem, but she drew a blank, her mind turning to mush.
His lips as they settled on hers felt firm, smooth, soft. They teased her lips, rubbing and coaxing, focused on eliciting a response.
She breathed in his warm male scent, felt the gentle scrape against her skin of the evening shadow covering his jaw. His lips moved over hers, urging her to respond, not with a command but with a sweet persuasion that had a languorous warmth seeping through her bones.
How many times had she fantasized about kissing Quentin? About him kissing her? About how he would be? About how they would be together?
And with that thought, she realized that she didn't want to think. She wanted to feel, to savor the moment.
She broke his loose hold on her arms and twined them around his neck and, this time, when he asked for a response, she parted her lips and allowed him to penetrate her mouth, kissing him back with all the pent-up ardor that she thought she'd locked away forever years ago.
She sensed him hesitate for a moment, as if her response caught him by surprise, and then he made a satisfied sound deep in his throat and brought her closer, so that she was flush against him, his arms molding her to him.
Her ni**les puckered against his chest, where she could feel the steady beat of his heart. But instead of flushing with embarrassment, as she normally would have, she moaned and sought to get even closer to his warmth, his strength.
His mouth was hot on hers, their kissing taking on a greater urgency.
The reality of him was so much more overwhelming than anything she'd been able to imagine.
She was so lost in their kiss that the ringing sound didn't immediately penetrate to her clouded mind. Only when he groaned and set her away from him did she realize that the phone was ringing.
Her gaze connected with his and she read the blatant desire there. He looked ready to devour her whole!
Flustered, she looked around for her purse. Spotting it on a chair where she'd deposited it on the way in, she pulled out her cell phone.
“H-h-hello?” She cursed her wobbly voice.
“Hey, Lizzie.” Allison's voice sounded from her compact folding phone. “I think I forgot my sweater in the back seat of Quentin's car. Can you check for me?”
Darn. How was she supposed to answer? “Er, hold on.” She placed her hand over the receiver, and turned to Quentin, who had his hands shoved in his pockets, and looked like a lurking tiger. “Ally thinks she left her sweater in the back seat.”
Quentin muttered something unintelligible. “I'll call her from my phone.” He headed for the door, turning back when he reached it. “We'll finish this conversation later.”