A Lover's Dream by Altonya Washington Page B

that every chance I get.”
    A curious light brightened Quest’s handsome molasses features. “How so?” he inquired.
    â€œWell, I love to play beach volleyball,” she shared, grinning when she spied the surprise on his face. “I love to fish. In fact, there’s a resort I visit on Rhode Island whenever I have to go to New York.”
    â€œHmm, volleyball—”
    â€œ Beach volleyball.”
    â€œAnd fishing. I’m impressed, Michaela.”
    â€œMmm,” she replied in her most prim manner, “then there’s Rollerblading, dog racing, car racing—”
    â€œWhoa, whoa, you’re not telling me you actually like to watch car races?”
    â€œNo, I’m telling you I like to race cars.”
    â€œGet out.”
    Mick threw back her head and laughed. “I hope you don’t expect me to believe that you don’t have a wild streak somewhere in there?” she taunted.
    Quest shrugged, a hint of playfulness coming to his gray-black stare. “I prefer racing motorcycles and I take part in the Seahawks spring training every chance I get.”
    Mick felt that went without saying. She appreciated the definition of his torso, and by observing alone, she could tell it was a wall of unyielding muscle. Down, Mick , she ordered herself. “So you like football?” she asked in a hasty tone, hoping to draw her attention away from his physique.
    â€œLove it,” Quest confirmed.
    Mick nodded. “It’s a great game.”
    Quest grinned. “Your looks would make a man think you like anything besides car racing and football.”
    â€œMy looks?”
    â€œPretty.” Beautiful , he really wanted to say. “Delicate,” he added.
    Mick couldn’t deny the warmth spreading throughout her body. She had never considered herself pretty, let alone delicate.
    â€œHave you eaten?” Quest asked when they’d walked a bit farther in silence.
    Mick’s eyes filled with regret as her lunch date with County came to mind. “I have a date with my publisher in another hour,” she told him.
    He nodded, and then focused his eyes toward the floor as though he were debating. Mick could see the muscle working in his jaw again. She had no idea how intently she watched him, praying he would ask her to change her plans.
    Finally, he looked up. “Would ice cream ruin your appetite?” he asked. She shook her head and they walked toward the museum cafe.
    â€œSo you visit the museum when you want to escape the office. What happened today?” Mick asked, recalling that they’d veered onto the subject of her family when she inquired earlier.
    â€œI had a bad meeting with the Elders as usual,” he shared absently, as they enjoyed ice cream in the café.
    â€œThe Elders?” Mick inquired, her spoon poised in a cup of cookies and cream.
    â€œThe grown folks in the family,” Quest clarified, “our parents, aunts, uncles. My uncle Houston and aunt Daphne are the only two I had the joy of meeting with today.”
    â€œAh, and judging from your mood, I take it you don’t get along so well with them?”
    Quest rolled his eyes. “No one gets along with them.”
    â€œYuck,” Mick retorted, making a face.
    Quest ate another spoonful of his butter pecan ice cream and shook his head. “While Quay and I and our cousins were out hootin’, hollerin,’ and raisin’ hell, their kids were excelling in piano, mathematics, and science.”
    Mick propped her chin in her palm and listened.
    â€œDena and Taurus always did everything right. Making the honor roll—straight A’s, no less,” he emphasized with an authoritative glare, “joining the chess club, playing polo. You name it.”
    â€œThey sound fascinating,” Mick said, turning back to her ice cream.
    Quest’s expression was grim. “Hmph, fascinating. Yeah, if it was boring as hell in everyone