Midnight Lies: The Wildefire Series (28 page)

“Samantha, I’m glad I ran into you. I just got back into town.” He winked and added,
“Miss me?”

Since telling him the truth would be cruel, she just maintained her smile and said,
“Did you have a good trip?”

He grimaced. “Not really. Had some business to take care of back home. It’s damn cold
up there.”

She laughed and tightened her sweater around herself. “I think it’s damn cold here,
too.”

“You Southerners don’t know what cold is. We had two feet of snow on the ground the
whole time I was there.”

What was it about the weather that made people brag as if they had something to do
with it? Northerners bragged about their cold winters and made fun of Southerners
who couldn’t drive in the snow. Southerners were equally proud of their heat and humidity,
often calling Northerners wimps and pansies. She mentally shrugged. Since the War
Between the States was over, maybe this was their battle.

She shivered again. “This is as cold as I like to be.”

“I’m sorry I had to cancel our date. Want to go out tomorrow night?”

“I don’t think so, Blaine.”

“What do you mean? Why not?”

“I’m not looking to get involved with anyone. It just wouldn’t be fair to you.”

He gave her his usual charming, self-deprecating grin. “We’ll form our very own broken
hearts’ club.”

Midnight’s grapevine never failed to disappoint. Blaine might have been back only
a day or two, but it was apparently enough time to hear that Quinn had left town.
His smile invited shared understanding.

“I just think it would be best—”

“Look, it’s dinner, not a relationship. I’m single, you’re single.” He held up his
hands. “I’m looking for nothing more than friendship, I promise.”

Samantha wavered. Maybe something uncomplicated was what she needed. A good meal,
pleasant company, and absolutely no expectations. And if she could dig a little deeper,
perhaps she could decide once and for all whether or not Blaine was connected to Cruz.

She smiled her appreciation. “When you put it like that, how can I resist?”

“Excellent. So tomorrow night’s okay with you?”

Samantha shook her head. She had promised Aunt Gibby she’d come over to her house
and help hang her new kitchen curtains. In exchange, Gibby was going to make one of
her famous casseroles. As much as Samantha dreaded the meal, she enjoyed spending
time with Gibby.

“I have plans. How about Monday night?”

Blaine’s eyes searched her for several seconds, and she knew he was wondering if she
had another date. She didn’t want to alienate him, but her plans were not his business.

Thankfully he just nodded and said, “Monday it is. Six o’clock okay?”

“Sounds good.”

Samantha walked away, neither dreading nor looking
forward to her evening with Blaine. She was beginning to think this would be her attitude
and way of life, at least for the foreseeable future. A life with Quinn wasn’t possible.
Though she knew that, she had yet to come to terms with how to return to the Samantha
she’d once been. Optimism seemed as far from her as the earth from the moon. At some
point, she’d have to get there. But today wasn’t that day.

Still, she entered Tillie’s with the sunny smile everyone expected. Having carefully
crafted a reputation that life and its disappointments didn’t impact her the way they
did most people, she wasn’t about to give in and show just how badly the real Samantha
was hurting.

After learning that Zach had already left, Samantha seated herself in the waiting
room and picked up a magazine. Her ears open for anything odd or unusual that might
alert her that one of Cruz’s men might be snooping around, she almost missed that
someone was speaking directly to her.

She raised her head from her magazine. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Justine Lewis, blowing her long, blood-red nails dry with short puffs of air, stopped
mid-huff. “I said, I just saw that doctor friend of yours headed to the Hartley place.
Reckon he’s here to stay for good?”

The genial demeanor she was working so hard to keep up was abruptly shot to hell.
Not caring what kind of impression she was making, Samantha threw down the magazine,
shot to her feet, and went out the door.

Quinn shifted into park and sat for a few minutes, staring at his house. Was he stupid
for coming back here? Seemed like lately all he could lay claim to was stupidity.

His attorney was handling the details, but bottom line, he no longer had a career
or a life to go back to in Atlanta. At some point, he’d return to medicine, either
emergency or private practice. He’d worked too hard and enjoyed it too much—and dammit,
was too good at it—to turn away from it for long. But for right now, he was officially
unemployed.

So no, coming back to Midnight made no real sense. He only knew a few people in town,
and one in particular would not be happy that he had returned. The last thing he wanted
to do was hurt Sam more. He would do his best to stay out of her way.

Quinn got out and grabbed his duffel bag from the trunk. He’d taken the back roads,
going three miles out of his way to avoid downtown Midnight. It was useless to hope
that he could live here long before everyone, including Sam, knew. But a couple of
days of peace would be a reprieve from all the insanity over the last couple of weeks.

The thought had barely entered his mind when he heard the roar of an engine. Turning,
he squinted against
the late afternoon sun and tried to make out the identity of the driver. He told himself
he didn’t want it to be Sam. Too bad he didn’t believe it.

An electric-green Ford Fusion sped toward the house.
Not Sam
. He took the disappointment and absorbed it. This was just the beginning.

Quinn stood and waited for the car to reach him. It stopped a couple of yards from
him, and a young woman he had never seen before got out. In one hand was a casserole
dish and the other held a bottle of wine.

As she came toward him, he observed the way she walked. Hell, except for the reddish-brown
hair color, she looked way too much like Charlene. With a long-legged, swaying walk
and a smile that reminded him of a barracuda, the woman exuded a hungry, sexual energy.
A younger Quinn might have been intrigued, but he’d been there and done that and it
definitely hadn’t been worth the trip. Sam’s beauty, intelligence, and lack of pretense
outshone this woman a thousand to one.

“Hey there, sugar. Welcome to Midnight. I’m Lindsay Milan.”

Quinn nodded a hello. Having had more than enough experience with this kind of woman,
he knew not to show the least bit of encouragement.

Not deterred, Lindsay held out her offering. “I brought you a casserole for dinner
and some wine to wash it down with. Hope you’re hungry.”

Her eyes traveled down his body, leaving him no doubt what she hoped he was hungry
for.

“How did you know I was here?”

“I was walking by Tillie’s and heard you’d come back. I didn’t get to meet you when
you bought the house. I’m real glad you came back so soon. How long you planning to
stay this time?”

Her quickness surprised him. Lindsay apparently had
casseroles ready on the off chance someone new popped into town.

“That’s nice of you but I’m afraid I can’t invite you in.” He searched for an excuse
that sounded reasonable. “I just got here and haven’t had a chance to check the place
out.” Seeing her shiver slightly, he added, “I’m not even sure I have heat.”

She grinned. “Oh, but you’ve got something better.”

Not really wanting to know, he asked anyway. “Really? What’s that?”

“You’ve got fireplaces.”

“Can’t use them yet. They have to be cleaned out.”

Holding up the bottle, she winked. “This’ll warm you up.”

“I’m not much of a wine drinker, but thanks.”

Her red lips pursed in disappointment but still she persevered. “At least let me show
you how to heat the casserole.” She took a few steps toward the house. Quinn was about
to call her back when he heard another car pull into the drive. Hell, was there a
welcome sign posted somewhere he wasn’t aware of?

At the sight of the silver BMW headed toward them, Quinn felt a lift to his spirits.
Didn’t matter that he had vowed to avoid Sam at all costs. She was the one who’d come
to see him.

Lindsay shot him a frustrated look. “I thought y’all broke up.”

Focused on the woman getting out of her car with mutinous determination on her beautiful
face, he didn’t acknowledge Lindsay’s comment.

Sam stalked toward him and Quinn fought a smile. This was the Sam he admired and wanted
like none other. She was furious and wasn’t bothering to hide it.

“Why are you here?”

“Hello to you, too.”

“I thought you—”

She broke off when Lindsay touched his arm with a caressing glide. “Quinn and I were
just about to sit down to eat. Why don’t you stop by another time?”

Quinn didn’t know who was the most stunned, he or Sam. What the hell did this woman
think she was doing?

“I wasn’t aware that you and Quinn knew each other, Lindsay,” Sam said.

“He’s an easy man to get to know.” She turned back to Quinn, her eyes wide with seeming
innocence. “This casserole is getting cold, sugar. We’d better go in before it ruins.”

Since he neither wanted to have dinner with this woman or have Sam believe there was
anything going on between them, he shook his head. “Again, thanks but no thanks. I
have unpacking to do.” And because he wasn’t a total prick, he said, “Thanks for your
thoughtfulness.”

Her smile frozen, she shoved the casserole at Quinn. “Here. Heat for twenty minutes
at 350 degrees.”

She nodded at Sam and stalked to her car. Quinn thought it interesting that her walk
was so different from when she arrived.

Lindsay gunned the car, creating a cloud of dust as she sped away.

Waving away the dust, Sam said, “I didn’t expect you back.”

“I wanted to get in a few days of repairs before the holidays.”

“You’re doing the repairs yourself?”

“Some of them, yeah.”

“What’s going on, Quinn? With your work schedule, you barely used to have time to
eat.”

He shrugged. “I took some more time off.”

“Why?”

“Come inside and let’s talk.”

He’d meant nothing more than it was getting dark and he was holding a damn casserole
in his hands that he didn’t want. When she took a step back, she seemed to think it
was another kind of invitation.

“I need to get home.”

“What are you afraid of, Sam?”

“I just …” Her eyes darted to the house and then came back to settle on him. “I just
don’t know why you came back, Quinn. There’s nothing for you here.”

“Maybe you’re right, but I’m here. Now, are you coming in or not?”

She shook her head and started for her car.

Quinn watched her drive away, the ache in his gut not easing. It was clear she didn’t
want to be around him.

Shrugging, he headed to his new home. She was just one of many who felt that way these
days.

Samantha threw her keys on the hall foyer table. She was torn between wanting to go
for a long, body-aching run and just running to her bedroom and crying her eyes out.
Why had he come back here? They had broken up. It couldn’t be the house. It meant
nothing to him.

At first she had thought he had somehow changed his mind. Silly, she knew. Quinn wasn’t
fickle like that. Once he made a decision, he stuck with it. But still she had hoped.

Seeing him with Lindsay had almost knocked her off her feet. Even though the woman’s
reputation in high school had been one few girls would want, Samantha had always felt
sorry for her. Lindsay had lived with her brother and father, both of whom were known
to be jerks. Her home life couldn’t have been easy.

From what she knew about Lindsay’s life since then, it hadn’t gotten better. She’d
been through two divorces and had acquired the reputation of being a desperate,
man-hungry woman who would sleep with anyone. Having immersed herself with the gossips
of Midnight, Samantha had heard more than she wanted about many people, including
Lindsay.

“What’s wrong?”

She turned to Savannah and tried for her best fake smile. “Nothing.”

“Sammie, stop it. We used to tell each other everything. Please don’t let my pregnancy
change that.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just hard to talk right now.”

Her sister took her hand and led her to the kitchen. “A good cup of hot sweet tea
is what we both need.”

Hot sweet tea had been their panacea when they were kids. Granddad had insisted that
the soothing drink made everything just a little more bearable.

Samantha sat at the kitchen table and watched her sister put the kettle on and prepare
the cups. Even in her misery, she saw something different about Savvy. There was a
serenity that hadn’t been there hours before.

“What’s going on? You look like a cat who’s just been given a canary farm.”

Her sister threw a grin over her shoulder. “Is there such a thing as a canary farm?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Facing her, Savvy said, “Tit for tat?”

Meaning she’d have to spill her news before Savvy would give up hers. Her sigh ragged,
she said, “Quinn’s back.”

Instead of looking disturbed, excitement flared in her green eyes. “I knew he wouldn’t
be able to stay away from you.”

Samantha wished she could laugh, because it really was kind of funny. She and her
sister had apparently reversed roles. Savvy had always been the pragmatic, logical
one, not prone to romanticism. And Samantha
had been the romantic in the family, believing in happy endings.

“He’s not here for me. He’s here to do some work on the house before the holidays.”

As if she hadn’t spoken, Savvy turned away to pour the hot water into the cups. Holding
two steaming mugs in her hand, she carried them to the table and set one in front
of Samantha. Then, with what sounded like the most contented of sighs, she sat down
and said, “Let’s invite him to Thanksgiving dinner.”