A Lover's Dream by Altonya Washington Page A

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the grimace triggering the dimple in his left cheek. “I’m sorry about what happened to your family.”
    â€œMy family?” Mick parroted, tilting her head to one side. “How did you—”
    â€œQuay and I share the same office space. I overheard what you told him,” he admitted, folding his arms across the front of the olive green shirt that hung outside his trousers.
    Mick didn’t know what to make of the revelation. Why didn’t you come out? she wanted to ask. Something told her he wouldn’t be ready with an answer.
    Quest, however, had judged her reaction perfectly. He knew she wanted to question his absence during the meeting. “You’d probably give anything to go through that kind of headache,” he said, hoping to lighten the mood.
    The summation did draw a grin from Mick. “Well…I wouldn’t say that,” she groaned playfully whilesmoothing her hands across her curve-hugging black yoga pants. “So I take it, it’s pretty difficult belonging to such a huge family?” she asked, smiling when he fell in step beside her.
    â€œDoes the phrase ‘the twelfth level of hell’ mean anything to you?” Quest muttered, shaking his head when Mick burst into laughter.
    â€œCome on, you’re exaggerating. It can’t be that bad?” she argued.
    Quest massaged the back of his neck where his hairline tapered off. “Hmph, it shouldn’t be that bad, but it is. Just last week we were only on level ten.”
    Mick cast a nervous glance across her shoulder when the last remark roused a roar of laughter from her throat. Quest’s attempt at brutal honesty had succeeded in thoroughly amusing her.
    â€œI don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned by my ability to make you laugh so hard.”
    Mick pressed one hand to her chest and closed her eyes briefly. “I swear I don’t view you as a clown.”
    â€œThank God,” Quest breathed, his haunting gray stare holding traces of relief.
    â€œStill,” Mick considered as she toyed with the satin-trimmed row of buttons along the bodice of her pink polo tee, “it’s interesting to find you so humorous when you first struck me as so serious.”
    Quest’s serious side reasserted itself then. “Tell me about your family,” he requested softly.
    Mick, who rarely spoke about her family, or lack thereof, felt no hesitation then. A part of her wanted to share her story—her secrets—with this man.
    â€œI do miss all the craziness of family and all the drama. I miss not even having cousins to spar with.”
    Quest didn’t like the sadness in her light eyes. He wanted to reach out and smooth back the heavy black curls that fell into her face when her head bowed.
    â€œCousins,” he groaned playfully, deciding to redirectthe conversation, “the twentieth level of hell,” he complained amidst her laughter.
    The couple continued to stroll the museum’s long corridors and grand rooms. Of course, they hardly noticed all the lovely pieces because their conversation was so enjoyable. Michaela wanted to swoon whenever Quest’s hand curved beneath her elbow to move her from the path of some tourist or museum employee.
    â€œIs not having a family why you busy yourself with the books?” he asked when they stood before a centuries-old bronze statue.
    â€œOh, I promise you I’m not a bookworm. I know how to have fun,” she was quick to assure him.
    â€œI have no doubt,” Quest replied, his long lashes shielding his gaze as it raked her alluring frame. The black yoga pants hugged and emphasized her bottom adoringly. Down, Quest , he ordered himself.
    â€œI grew up hard and it made me cynical,” she admitted, studying the artwork with an idle gaze, “but growing up underprivileged also instilled a desire to enjoy my success to the fullest and I do