In Too Deep (17 page)

He laughed, remembering that night perfectly. “Chili, and whether you thank me depends on whether you like to sweat while you eat.”

The dimple deepened. “Get the inside
and
outside warm.”

“Something like that.” He ladled soup into the three bowls and carried them to the table. “Nothing fancy.”

Lily smiled up at him. “If I'd been left to my own devices, we'd be having toast and tea.”

He didn't believe her, but that didn't keep him from enjoying the compliment. She waited with her napkin in her lap until he sat down. He would have had to be a blind man not to notice Annmarie beaming at him as he sat between them.

“It's just like a real family, Mom,” she said. “Isn't it?”

A
real family?

Quinn's head came up, and he looked from Lily to Annmarie, whose smile was huge. To give Lily credit, her smile looked only a little forced as she nodded her agreement with her daughter, her gaze avoiding his. As for himself—he had fallen into a trap of his own making. He knew what this looked like to Annmarie.

That little girl was hoping—believing—he had agreed to her outrageous request. A husband for Lily…just for a little while…just until there was the baby that would never be.

His chest tightened, and in front of him were Shelly and her kids instead of Lily and Annmarie. That had been a real family, too. Complete with crying kids and shouting between himself and Shelly. He'd forgotten about that. Not only had he been an insensitive husband, he'd been an uncaring, rotten stepparent. He'd wanted the forever marriage, and he'd bailed before even a year was up. And, like this…it had begun perfectly.

At the time he'd made every excuse in the book. The pres
sures of working full-time and going to graduate school and trying to make a go of a marriage and get along with children who saw him as the obstacle keeping their mother and father apart. The truth was a lot more simple. He didn't have what it took.

“Something wrong?” Lily asked.

Quinn gave himself a mental shake. “No. The day is catching up with me, that's all.” The day, hell. His life was catching up with him. Sure as he was sitting here, one thing he was positive of. He'd never wanted anything more than to be here like this with Lily and her daughter. The knowledge that he would surely, surely screw it up was a thousand more times scary than it had been to see the surf pounding around Lily's slim body this afternoon.

He ate his meal in silence. He could have been eating sand for all he tasted. Through the meal, Annmarie chattered, to the point he wondered how she ever managed to get anything eaten. All he wanted was for her to be quiet so he could think. So he didn't look at her when he responded to her questions, and he ground his teeth together to keep from telling her to be quiet. Lily wouldn't appreciate his scolding her child any more than his ex-wife had.

“Annmarie, eat your dinner,” Lily said as if she had somehow read his mind.

“But, Mom—”

“Enough. I know it's a challenge, but be quiet for the next two minutes.”

Annmarie shot her mother a glare, swinging her feet to some internal beat and tapping her spoon against the edge of the bowl.

One thing was for damn sure. He couldn't stay.

He finished eating and looked up to find that Lily was watching him. She'd eaten less than a quarter of her chili. She was either a slow eater or he'd wolfed down the food. “You must have been hungry,” Lily said.

“I was.” Quinn seized the excuse like a man reaching for a lifeline and pressed a hand against his middle.

He sat for a moment watching her, then abruptly stood and headed for the kitchen sink where he rinsed off the dishes and put them in the dishwasher.

He came back to the table and wrapped his hands around the top of the chair. “You're feeling okay now?”

“Fine.”

“Good. Uh, good.”

“What's the matter, Quinn?”

“I've got to go,” he said.

“I wanted to watch videos with you,” Annmarie said, her voice whiny—an additional signal that she was tired. Even he recognized that symptom.

He managed a smile. “Another time, munchkin.”

Lily stood up from the table and followed his retreat across the room. “Are you okay?” She detoured by the stove, where she grabbed the teakettle, which she filled with water, then put back to heat.

“Fine,” he said.

“Not that again.” She folded her arms over her chest and her chin lifted in the first display of any temper that he'd seen in her. It wasn't much of one, but he had the feeling that for Lily, even this much was a lot.

“What?”

“Fine,” she said. “The word you always use when things are
not
fine.”

He put his jacket on and opened the door to the mudroom. Just like he'd done before, sooner or later he'd make Lily hate him. He had to get out of here, and right now. “There's nothing complicated. I left some things at the lab that I need to take care of.”

“What things?” she challenged.

He scowled at her. “Things. That's all. Things.”

“You're running again,” Lily accused. At once her conscience pricked her. Fine one she was to accuse him of that when she was planning to do the very same thing.

He put a hand behind her head and pulled her close, pressing a kiss against her forehead. “I'll call you in a couple of
hours.” Then he did just as she had accused him of—he ran, though on the surface the pace was a saunter.

And at the bottom of the porch steps, there stood Hilda. “Leaving?” she asked mildly.

He nodded. “Lily's doing fine. There's no reason to stay.”

“If you say so.” She climbed the steps, and as Quinn got into his car, he looked up to find the two women watching him.

“What was that all about?” Hilda asked, following Lily into the mudroom. She tossed her jacket on the freezer and slipped out of her shoes.

Lily watched Quinn drive away, then carefully closed the door instead of giving it the slam she was tempted to. She ought to be thankful the man was leaving since they had no future. Her throat tightened unbearably.
Normal.
What would she normally say? “He'd risk his life to help, but if a simple word like ‘family' comes up, he runs like demons are after him.”

“Maybe they are.”

After all that Quinn had told her, she knew that Hilda's assessment was dead-on. Maybe more demons than she'd be able to overcome. What was it going to take to convince the man that he was far more capable of loving and being loved than he gave himself credit for? Tears she couldn't afford threatened as she realized that she'd never know how things turned out for him.

“Something smells good,” Hilda said.

“Chili,” Lily said, instead of demanding to know if her friend had found Cal. “Quinn cooked, and it's very good. Would you like some?”

“The man cooks?” Hilda said. “Since he ran out of here like he was being chased by a swarm of mosquitoes, are you sure it's safe to eat?” Despite the teasing, she got a bowl out of the cupboard and dished the chili into it.

The water on the stove came to a boil and Lily poured water into the teapot she had prepared, then carried it to the table with cream and sugar and a pair of mugs.

“Impressive.” Hilda took another bite of the chili. “This is really good.”

“I've tried calling Cal,” Lily said. “And I keep getting his voice mail. Have you seen him?”

Hilda shook her head. “Milt rented him a boat a couple of days ago, and he still has it. Maybe he went to Wrangall or someplace else.”

“How's Max doing?” Lily asked.

“He's going to be fine,” Hilda said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “He's going to sleep in the clinic tonight so I can keep an eye on him.”

“You didn't come out here to give me that report unless the phone lines are down,” Lily said.

“I came for the chili.”

“Sure you did. How long did you ground Thad for?”

Hilda's indulgent smile lit on Annmarie. “Until he's old enough to enlist in the Marines. I don't want another scare like that for as long as I live.”

Lily's gaze went to her daughter. “Amen to that.”

While they ate, Hilda related Thad's summons for help and how everyone who was around had instantly responded, how there'd been a real panic when they realized the engine for the boat normally used for rescues wouldn't start, how relieved they were when Dwight showed up with another kayak. Through it, Lily kept wondering why her friend was really here. Everything they were talking about could have waited until tomorrow.

“Are you finished eating?” Lily asked Annmarie a little while later.

The child nodded.

“Then go brush your teeth.”

“I'm not sleepy yet.” Annmarie stuck her chin out. “It's too early to go to bed.”

“It is,” Lily agreed. “So, after you're finished, you can pick out a story for me to read to you and your teddy bear while Hilda and I talk.”

Annmarie slipped off her chair, folded her arms over her
chest, and made a point of sighing before she headed toward the bedrooms. A second later she reappeared at the door. “Mom?”

“What, sweetie?”

She fidgeted a minute, plucking at the sleeve of her shirt. “Am I going to be punished, too? Like Thad.”

“Yes.”

“But, Mom, it was Sweetie Pie.”

“You should have come to get one of us,” Lily said. “And next time, that's what you'll do.” She simultaneously wanted to punish Annmarie for being so foolish and to hold her close and to closet her away for the next fifteen years so she could never, never be hurt. “As for your punishment…”

Annmarie's chin quivered, and she bit her lip to keep it steady. As had been the case since Annmarie was an infant, Lily wanted to scoop her up and promise her that everything would be okay. Today had proven beyond any doubt that a few lessons had to be reinforced no matter how much she wanted to shelter her daughter. Maybe the last lessons.

She cleared away the lump in her throat. “This was a very serious thing today, don't you think?”

A single tear rolled down Annmarie's cheek, and she nodded.

“I think…I think that I need to give this a lot of thought,” Lily said. “We'll decide in the morning.”

Annmarie watched her a moment, the quivering of her chin killing Lily. She held out her arms. Annmarie ran into them, and buried her head against Lily's chest. Lily's arms convulsed around her little girl, and she absorbed the warmth of her child.

“I'm sorry,” Annmarie sobbed. “I didn't mean for bad things to happen.”

Lily kissed the top of Annmarie's head. “I know.” She continued rocking the child until her tears subsided. She gave Annmarie another kiss, then said, “Go brush your teeth now. Pretty soon, I'll come sit with you.”

“And hold me until I fall asleep?”

Lily closed her eyes against a new rush of emotion and had to clear her throat before she said, “Sure.” She watched her daughter walk away, then asked Hilda, “Are you ready for tea?”

“Please,” Hilda said. “What's Cal really doing here, Lily?”

Lily swallowed the hysterical laugh that threatened. What was the
normal
answer for that question? Opting for as much of the truth as she could, she said, “There are some things that had to be taken care of for Franklin Lawrence's appeal.”

“Are you in protective custody? Like you were for the trial?” Hilda asked.

Lily sorted through the gradations of truth. “He's making himself available if it looks like that is needed.”

Hilda surged to her feet. “I knew it. All those questions he's been asking all over town didn't make any sense. That's just a cover. To give him a reason for being here.”

Lily nodded.

“Where in the hell is the man? Because it sure looks like you do need him.” She sat back down and leaned across the table to Lily. “I think somebody was in your house. It's the only thing that makes sense. How else would the cat have ended up miles from here?”

Lily's eyes burned and she bit her lip against the need to tell her best friend everything. “I think you're right.”

Hilda sat up. “You do? You believe me?”

Lily nodded and managed a smile. “No rose-colored glasses tonight.” She couldn't afford them. Not if she was going to save her own life.

“The guy Thad described sounds like one of the university students—skinny guy with a ponytail and a beard.”

“That could be Patrick,” Lily said. “A couple of the other guys also have beards, but Patrick is the only skinny one.”

“It's time he and I had a talk,” Hilda said, then asked for his last name and if Lily knew where he lived.

A knock at the outside door interrupted whatever Hilda was about to say. Lily went to the door. Quinn. Her heart
lurched as she unlocked the door and let him into the mudroom. “You came back.”

“I couldn't stay away.” He pulled her toward him. “I'm no damn good for you, but I had to come back.”

“You hurt me.” Her breath caught as she gazed at him. The man looked none too happy about being here, even as he laced his fingers through hers. Harsh lines bracketed his mouth, but it was his eyes that drew her—intent on her as though she was the center of his universe.

“I'm sorry,” he instantly said. He cupped his hands around her face then, and captured her mouth in a deep hungry kiss that bordered on desperate.

Against her face his skin was cold and scented with night air, but his mouth was hot and fueling everything needy inside her. She gave herself to the conflagration, her blood roaring in her ears. Realizing she had the power to hurt him as much as he had hurt her, she knew she should send him away. But she couldn't. Whatever happened tonight would have to satisfy her for the rest of her life. Selfish as that was, she wanted it, needed it.

“Hilda's still here,” he said against Lily's mouth. He gave her another kiss, then stepped away. “Hold that thought.”

Taking her by the hand, he led her into the kitchen. Hilda still sat at the table.

“I'm glad you came back,” she said. “Otherwise, I was going to talk Lily into coming into town with me.”

Quinn's gaze rested on her. “I always forget that you're also the town safety officer.” He cleared his throat. “Putting on that hat—today wasn't an accident. It couldn't have been.” He glanced down at Lily, his eyes full of apology. “Somebody deliberately lured those kids—”

Lily pressed her fingers against his lips, unwilling to hear him say the words out loud. “I know,” she said. “I've already talked to Hilda and she's checking into it.”