hair, perfect
skin and model thin, she was exactly his type. But tonight, every
time he looked at her all he could think about was a tiny natural
blonde with sun-kissed skin and a thick Texas drawl.
Quin smiled and shook his head. “Not
tonight, Allison. I have an early meeting in the morning and I need
to be prepared.” He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the
cheek. Noticed the slight frown marring her otherwise perfect skin.
The woman made a habit of remaining expressionless to avoid lines
on her face. He couldn’t recall seeing her really smile. It wasn’t
normal. But hadn’t Rose said much the same about him?
“ Another time?”
Allison shrugged. “Sure. Whatever.”
She opened the door and stepped out, not giving him time to come
around and open her car door. Another sure sign she was pissed. He
waited until she was safely inside then drove away, heading for his
loft.
* * *
At home, Quin undressed, tossing his
clothes in a heap on the floor. The housekeeper would take care of
them. He looked at his watch. Two in the morning. Was it too late
to call Rose? Probably, but what the hell. He picked up the phone,
dialed and got her answering machine. What the hell?
Quin stared at the phone as though
there might be something wrong with it. It was four in the morning
in Texas. Where the hell was she? And what could she possibly be
doing? Was she out with some other man? He shook his head. He
couldn’t believe that. She wasn’t like the women he knew. Hell, he
was the first man she’d been with since Garrett’s death. She
wouldn’t. Would she?
He went to the kitchen and got a
bottle of water, tossed back two ibuprofen to circumvent a
hangover, went back to the bedroom, stretched out and tried to
sleep. Couldn’t. He sat up and dialed Rose’s number again, let it
ring. Once again the machine picked up. Swearing, he threw the
phone across the room, then got up to retrieve it. He checked it
carefully. If he’d broken it, Rose wouldn’t be able to return his
call.
“ Jesus, Halladay, what’s
your fucking problem? What the hell do you care where some little
Texas bimbo is on a Sunday night?”
He got up and grabbed for
his jeans. He could probably call Allison, apologize profusely, and
she’d let him in. What the hell had he been thinking, dropping her
off like that? Even though she would never be his intellectual
equal, Allison Barkley was seriously hot. And it didn’t hurt that
she was into kinky, athletic sex. The girl had more moves than
the Kama Sutra . He
looked down at his flaccid cock. Something was seriously wrong if
he couldn’t rise to the occasion with a single thought of Allison
Barkley.
Quin stretched out on his big soft bed
with his eight-hundred-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets and
wondered again where Rose was. He thought of their earlier
conversation. He’d gotten her to play with herself while he gave
her directions on what to do. He’d heard her gasps as she came. His
cock lifted the sheet covering him. Rose. Great. He could get it up
for Rose but not for Allison? He snorted in disgust. Novelty. That
had to be it. Rose was different. All he had to do was fuck her out
of his system and things would get back to normal. He hit redial on
the handset, got the machine again. Where the hell was she? Was she
on a date? It wasn’t like they were exclusive. She could see anyone
she wanted. The thought of her with someone else made him scowl. He
didn’t like the idea of anyone else kissing her, touching her. No,
he didn’t like it one little bit. He resolved to get all the
client’s concerns out of the way tomorrow—well, today actually—and
get his ass back to Butt Crack, Texas, so he could get down to the
business of screwing Dixie Rose Bonifay out of his system once and
for all.
Chapter Six
Quinn guided the truck between rows of
vehicles parked along the lane to Rose’s house. He could hear the
music and laughter clearly. There was some kind of get-together
skin and model thin, she was exactly his type. But tonight, every
time he looked at her all he could think about was a tiny natural
blonde with sun-kissed skin and a thick Texas drawl.
Quin smiled and shook his head. “Not
tonight, Allison. I have an early meeting in the morning and I need
to be prepared.” He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the
cheek. Noticed the slight frown marring her otherwise perfect skin.
The woman made a habit of remaining expressionless to avoid lines
on her face. He couldn’t recall seeing her really smile. It wasn’t
normal. But hadn’t Rose said much the same about him?
“ Another time?”
Allison shrugged. “Sure. Whatever.”
She opened the door and stepped out, not giving him time to come
around and open her car door. Another sure sign she was pissed. He
waited until she was safely inside then drove away, heading for his
loft.
* * *
At home, Quin undressed, tossing his
clothes in a heap on the floor. The housekeeper would take care of
them. He looked at his watch. Two in the morning. Was it too late
to call Rose? Probably, but what the hell. He picked up the phone,
dialed and got her answering machine. What the hell?
Quin stared at the phone as though
there might be something wrong with it. It was four in the morning
in Texas. Where the hell was she? And what could she possibly be
doing? Was she out with some other man? He shook his head. He
couldn’t believe that. She wasn’t like the women he knew. Hell, he
was the first man she’d been with since Garrett’s death. She
wouldn’t. Would she?
He went to the kitchen and got a
bottle of water, tossed back two ibuprofen to circumvent a
hangover, went back to the bedroom, stretched out and tried to
sleep. Couldn’t. He sat up and dialed Rose’s number again, let it
ring. Once again the machine picked up. Swearing, he threw the
phone across the room, then got up to retrieve it. He checked it
carefully. If he’d broken it, Rose wouldn’t be able to return his
call.
“ Jesus, Halladay, what’s
your fucking problem? What the hell do you care where some little
Texas bimbo is on a Sunday night?”
He got up and grabbed for
his jeans. He could probably call Allison, apologize profusely, and
she’d let him in. What the hell had he been thinking, dropping her
off like that? Even though she would never be his intellectual
equal, Allison Barkley was seriously hot. And it didn’t hurt that
she was into kinky, athletic sex. The girl had more moves than
the Kama Sutra . He
looked down at his flaccid cock. Something was seriously wrong if
he couldn’t rise to the occasion with a single thought of Allison
Barkley.
Quin stretched out on his big soft bed
with his eight-hundred-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets and
wondered again where Rose was. He thought of their earlier
conversation. He’d gotten her to play with herself while he gave
her directions on what to do. He’d heard her gasps as she came. His
cock lifted the sheet covering him. Rose. Great. He could get it up
for Rose but not for Allison? He snorted in disgust. Novelty. That
had to be it. Rose was different. All he had to do was fuck her out
of his system and things would get back to normal. He hit redial on
the handset, got the machine again. Where the hell was she? Was she
on a date? It wasn’t like they were exclusive. She could see anyone
she wanted. The thought of her with someone else made him scowl. He
didn’t like the idea of anyone else kissing her, touching her. No,
he didn’t like it one little bit. He resolved to get all the
client’s concerns out of the way tomorrow—well, today actually—and
get his ass back to Butt Crack, Texas, so he could get down to the
business of screwing Dixie Rose Bonifay out of his system once and
for all.
Chapter Six
Quinn guided the truck between rows of
vehicles parked along the lane to Rose’s house. He could hear the
music and laughter clearly. There was some kind of get-together
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