Midnight Lies: The Wildefire Series (32 page)

“That’s okay.” He pulled the shirt from his pants and began to unbutton it. “That’ll
give us time to get to know each other better.”

Instantly aroused at his masterful attitude, Lindsay unzipped the ancient housecoat
and dropped it to the floor. Her naked body was a hell of a lot better to look at
than that old thing anyway.

He held out his hand. “Let’s go to your bedroom.”

Her dreams were more important than dinner. As he led her to her bedroom, she gave
little thought to how
he knew where it was or how he’d been able to get inside the house. He had worked
magic on her body, so maybe he knew things that couldn’t be explained.

All questions could wait. She had more important things on her mind. Just like she’d
hoped, her ship had finally come in.

His hand wrapped around the most expensive bottle of wine he could find at Midnight’s
one and only liquor store, Quinn rang the doorbell of the Wilde mansion. Other than
the alcohol, he felt like a teenager going on his first date. This was Sam’s family.
The people who meant more to her than anyone. It was stupid, he knew, since he and
Sam weren’t even together anymore, but he wanted them to like him. He wasn’t holding
out much hope.

The door flew open and a small, cheerful-looking elderly woman with silver-gray hair
and lively brown eyes assessed him. He withstood her scrutiny, figuring she was trying
to decide if he would be allowed in. Finally she nodded and said, “Yes, I can certainly
see why.” She stepped back and said, “Come on in, young man.”

Having no idea what her first comment had been about, Quinn stepped inside the giant
foyer of the mansion. Sam had described her aunt so well, he immediately knew the
older woman’s identity. “You must be Sam’s aunt Gibby.”

Lively, shrewd eyes continued to examine him as she answered, “Lorna Jean Wilcox.
Most people call me Gibby.”

Not sure if that included him, Quinn held out his hand and said, “I’m happy to meet
you. I’m Quinn Braddock.”

She took his hand, but instead of shaking it, she held it between her two hands and
examined it. “You have beautiful hands for a man. Healing hands.”

Quinn was beginning to wonder if Sam’s aunt had a touch of dementia when he heard
a soft snort to his left. Turning, he saw a young woman with short, white-blond hair
and Sam’s features. This was apparently Sabrina.

“Don’t mind Aunt Gibby. She’s just trying to figure you out.”

The elderly woman finally let go of his hand. “I was reading one of those magazines
over at Tillie’s when I was getting my hair done the other day. It said you could
read a person’s character by examining their hands.”

Before Quinn could ask if she had learned anything, Sabrina said, “What my aunt means
is she’s trying to figure out if you’re just a jerk or you have another reason for
breaking the heart of one of the most beautiful and gentle-hearted people in the world.”

“I guess I deserved that.”

“No you didn’t.”

Sam came to stand beside her sister. “Quinn is a guest. I didn’t invite him here for
you guys to interrogate him or treat him badly.”

“We weren’t doing anything other than trying to get to know him,” Sabrina said. “Were
we, Aunt Gibby?”

“Oh, heavens no.” Her eyes sparkling, the elderly woman smiled up at Quinn. “In fact,
I think I got the answer I was looking for. And you’re right, Samantha. He is quite
beautiful.”

He heard Sabrina snort but his eyes were only for Sam, who was blushing at her aunt’s
comment as she came toward him. Quinn stopped breathing. Had she ever been lovelier?
Wearing a body-hugging sweater dress in gray and dark red, she looked elegant, feminine,
and so damn sexy. If her aunt and sister hadn’t been
watching, he would have pulled her to him and followed the curve of her mouth with
his tongue. Whether she would have let him was another matter.

Meeting her halfway, he took her hand and held it to his mouth. Though her full lips
were tilted up in a smile, her eyes remained solemn, their brightness dimmed.

“You okay?”

She nodded. “I’m fine. I’m glad you could come.” She peeked around him. “And I apologize
for my sister and aunt. They sometimes let their overprotectiveness get the better
of them.”

Still bothered by her too-serious demeanor, he glanced over his shoulder and nodded
at both women. Neither of them looked particularly repentant. “You’re fortunate to
have a family who loves you like that.”

“You’re right, I am.”

She pulled her hand from his and turned away. “Come on into the family room. We have
appetizers and wine. Everyone is here.”

“Not everyone.”

Samantha turned back to her aunt. Still reeling with the thousand emotions Quinn always
created in her, she barely wondered about Gibby’s comment as she said, “Who else is
coming?”

“A nice young man I met at the grocery store the other day. He’s new to Midnight and
was buying a turkey TV dinner for Thanksgiving. Well, you know I couldn’t let that
happen.”

She stiffened with dread. Even though the identity of their coming guest was obvious,
she asked, “What’s his name?”

“Blaine Marshall. He said he was a friend of yours, Samantha. I’m surprised you didn’t
ask him yourself.”

She hadn’t asked him for obvious reasons. “I wish you had told me, Aunt Gibby.”

Her shoulders drooping slightly, Gibby said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it would
be a problem.”

Immediately she felt guilty. Gibby had done nothing wrong. “No, I’m sorry, Aunt Gibby.
You have every right to invite anyone you want. And we have more than enough food.”
Turning to Quinn, she said, “Could I talk to you for a minute?”

Questions in his eyes, he nodded. “Sure.”

Instead of heading to the family room, where everyone was gathered, she led him into
the study. Letting Quinn in on what was going on would hopefully quell any possible
outburst.

Once inside the room, she closed the door and turned back to him. “I just wanted to
remind you that Blaine’s the man I told you about … the one I was investigating for
our case.”

“You are so damn beautiful.”

She’d been so intent on defusing the situation, she hadn’t noticed that Quinn had
other things on his mind. Even as she told herself not to leap to conclusions, her
heart pounded against her chest. A little breathless, she said, “Thank you. You look
nice, too.” And he did, in gray slacks and a dark tan sports coat that covered a white
open-necked shirt. Understated and classic.

“I’ve been doing some thinking.” The words burst from her before she could stop them.
She’d thought of nothing else since her conversation with Bri earlier. Did she have
the courage to go through with this, and could she live with the consequences? The
answer always came back to one thing—she wanted Quinn in her life, any way she could
get him.

“Thinking about what?”

“Us.” Standing on the precipice of what to her was a major leap of faith, she said,
“I don’t want us to be over.”

Relief, hope, and wariness were all reflected in his eyes. “Neither do I.”

He started toward her but she held up her hand. “No, wait. We need to talk.”

“Okay, but first …” Taking the hand she held up, he pulled her into his arms and covered
her mouth with his.

Groaning in surrender, Samantha sank into his hard body. After all the lectures and
recriminations she’d given herself over the last few days, it all came down to this.
What she felt for this man defied her arguments. She didn’t want to give up on her
hopes of the family she’d always dreamed of, but hanging on to those fantasies was
small comfort if she had to give up the man she loved. She didn’t want a family with
anyone else. She didn’t want to be with anyone else. Quinn and only Quinn.

As her fingers weaved through his thick hair, she rubbed against his body, creating
an intense, hot friction of need. When Quinn’s big hands grabbed her hips, she thought
he was going to stop her; instead he pressed her deeper into his erection. Her gasp
one of excitement and arousal, Samantha held his shoulders as she rode the wave of
arousal and then climbed the peak to something more.

Only seconds from climax, she swallowed a moan of denial when Quinn pulled his mouth
from hers and growled, “I want more than this.”

“I do, too.”

“Can we go somewhere?”

Reality crashed, destroying the deliciously achy need thrumming through her bloodstream.
There were a dozen or so hungry people in the family room waiting for dinner, probably
wondering why it hadn’t been served. Dropping her arms, she pushed away and strode
to the door. “I’ve got to get back to the kitchen. Savvy and Bri are going to kill
me.”

“Sam.”

She leaned her head against the door. How could a
voice make her insides turn to liquid flame? “I need to go, Quinn.”

“Promise me we’ll finish this later. That it’s not just a moment of weakness for both
of us.”

Turning, she faced him with the truth. “I can live without you, Quinn, but I don’t
want to. I’ve been miserable without you.”

She braced herself. Baring her soul wasn’t easy for a girl who liked to keep it light
and fluffy. But Quinn, as usual, knew what to say.

“That makes two of us.”

The heavy weight of aloneness lifted and she smiled her brightest. “Let’s get dinner
behind us.”

“Deal.”

She stepped out the door but his words caught her. “Happy Thanksgiving”

“You too, Quinn.” She closed the door and leaned against it. So what if she didn’t
have all she wanted. For now she had Quinn. That was more than enough. And if it wasn’t
forever? She refused to go there.

Quinn settled back into his chair and took everything in. Every Thanksgiving food
imaginable had been loaded onto the long cherry dining table. Elegant china, silverware,
and crystal were a fitting complement to the feast waiting for the hungry guests seated
around the giant table. Sam and her sisters had outdone themselves.

Laughter, gentle ribbing, and varying conversations created a comfortable but festive
environment. How different this was from the Thanksgiving dinners of his childhood.
The meal had been catered from one of the finest restaurants, servants had stood at
solemn attention, and conversation had been either stilted or nonexistent. The atmosphere
had been as loving and warm as a morgue.

“Dr. Braddock, would you like some of my corn casserole?”

He turned to Sam’s aunt and took the dish from her. “Thank you, Miss Wilcox. But there’s
no need to call me Dr. Braddock. Call me Quinn.”

She beamed. “And you can call me Gibby.”

Feeling like he’d made a slight inroad to Sam’s family’s approval, Quinn spooned out
a large helping of the casserole. Under Gibby’s watchful eye, he took a giant bite
and had instant regret. Tasting like something between an old sock and burnt rubber,
the casserole was enough to stop him from ever eating corn again.

“Do you like it? It’s an old family recipe with a few additional secret ingredients.
I make a big batch every year and freeze them for special occasions.”

Grateful he hadn’t made a face, he swallowed the lump of torture and smiled at the
sweet old lady who apparently had no taste buds. “Best corn pudding I’ve ever had.”

As if he’d just given her a thousand dollars instead of a lie, her eyes lit up. “Let
me get you some more.”

Before he could stop her, she had heaped another tablespoon onto his plate. She was
in the middle of adding another when Sam said, “Aunt Gibby, don’t let Quinn eat all
of your casserole. Send it down here.”

Shooting her a grateful glance, he was surprised to see a knowing amusement in her
eyes. And then he remembered a comment she had once made about her beloved aunt and
her penchant for very bad casseroles. He heartily agreed with her description.

After a long swallow of iced tea to wash away the bad taste in his mouth, Quinn dug
into the rest of his meal. His conversation with Sam had left him with an appetite … something
he hadn’t had in weeks. If he hadn’t misunderstood the look in her eyes and her words,
what he wanted most in the world was about to come true.

“Where did you say you were from?”

Quinn looked up from his plate, thinking the question was for him. Instead he realized
that Savannah had asked the question of the man sitting three chairs down. Blaine
Marshall was the guy that Sam said she had been investigating for their case.

“Indiana. The northern part, close to Merrillville.”

“I spent some time in Indiana when I was growing up. Nice place to live,” Brody James
said. “You get back there much?”

He’d been eyeing Marshall, but when the question was asked, Quinn turned his attention
to James. The man had been introduced as one of Zach’s closest friends, but the expression
on his face was anything but friendly.

“I don’t have family there anymore but I have a couple of friends I go back and visit
from time to time.” He glanced over at Sam and smiled. “My home is in Midnight now.”

Oh hell, now he knew why Sam was unsettled when her aunt mentioned she had invited
Marshall.

“And we’re delighted to add a new resident to Midnight,” Savannah said.

Savannah was most likely the peacemaker of the family. Sabrina, on the other hand,
seemed to be focused solely on Quinn. The statement she’d made earlier had stung but
he couldn’t deny the truth. Sam was beautiful and gentle-hearted and he had hurt her
numerous times. But with their conversation earlier, he hoped like hell they could
put all of that behind them.

“Quinn,” Sabrina said, “Sammie’s not told us a lot about you and your family. Where
did you grow up?”

“Northern Virginia.”

“Your family still live there?”

Quinn nodded. “My mother and father.”

“What about brothers or sisters?”

“I had a brother.… He died.”

“Oh, how sad,” Savannah said. “Was he younger or older than you?”