Rules of Attraction (14 page)

Many questions had been answered. Marie hadn't been about to leave town. She'd had a face-lift, financed by the check Jenn had sent her, and she was laying low until she healed. She hadn't wanted anyone to know.

As for the red convertible, Jenn had stowed it at a garage. After Claire threatened to have it towed, Jenn arranged for it to be picked up. That's why the white van had returned that day. Jenn's bodyguard had waited for Claire to leave the house, then he'd driven the convertible a few blocks away and returned for his van. He hadn't been back since.

And so many more revelations, Claire thought as they pulled up in front of her house. So many more.

She thanked the officer for the ride home, scooted out of the car and jogged up her stairs. She knew Quinn was right behind her, so she left the door flung open and walked straight to the kitchen to leave Rase there while she and Quinn talked. Rase would take Quinn's side. She wasn't putting up with that.

She almost bumped into Quinn as she exited the kitchen, pulling the door shut behind her. “In the living room,” she said, coming to a halt before their bodies touched. She stared straight ahead—which meant his chest filled her view. Sadness tried to replace her anger. She shoved it aside. But, oh, what they could have had together….

He stepped aside. She passed him. When she got to
the living room, she considered where she might sit, then chose to stand instead.

“I told you she was innocent,” she said.

He stayed standing, too, not close enough to touch but not across the room, either. “So you believe her story?” he asked.

“You don't?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters.” Everything matters. She finally looked at him. His expression was…neutral. Emotionless. Businesslike.

“I believe some of it,” he said.

“Like what?”

“I believe she was scared. When she said Beecham was evil and that she'd been trying to break up with him for months before he was arrested, I believe that. And that she moved in with you because she was afraid to be alone, and then left here because she was afraid that you might get hurt? I believe that, too. I believe it because she yelled at you to run. She was scared for you.” He took a step forward. “Claire—”

“What
don't
you believe?”

“Do we have to do this?”

“Yes.”

His mouth tightened. “I didn't buy that she'd located the diamonds only a couple of weeks ago and mailed them to herself for safekeeping, leaving them in her P.O. box rather than having them in her possession.”

“Why don't you believe that?”

“Once she had them, why not turn them in, if that was her goal? Beecham wouldn't have any more reason to have her followed or stalked or whatever it was he had arranged from prison.
If
he did. We have no proof of that.”

Claire didn't have an answer for that. She hadn't
thought to question Jenn about it. “She
thought
she was being followed.”

“Not since the day she ducked out of here.”

“Well, you should be happy. After she caught Santos tailing her, she'd only assumed someone else would be following her. She hadn't spotted you, after all.”

“Yeah, that's all that matters to me.”

His sarcasm made her feel guilty. He'd been doing his job. There was plenty to fault him for, but not for doing his job. One of the things she'd admired about him was his competency.

“Why exactly are you mad at me, Claire?”

Because I fell in love with you and you didn't fall in love with me.
The words stuck in her heart, held there by other things that mattered, too. Like honesty. “You lied to me
and
made a liar out of me.”

“How?”

“I told Jenn we weren't looking for her. She came out of hiding because I told her that. You agreed to stop hunting her.”

“I made a decision based on what I believe had to be done. And, Claire, she told me the newspaper article about me this morning spurred her out of the house. She didn't want to live like a victim, hiding from the world like I had.”

“That's right. She was going to get the diamonds and turn them in to the authorities today.”

Quinn said nothing.

“You don't believe that, either,” she said.

“Frankly, I don't know. I don't think we'll ever know the truth.”

“You called the police on her.”

“That I didn't do. Someone observing what was happening in front of the post office called it in. I'd fully
intended to follow her home and try to talk to her. That's all. Just talk to her. To try to convince her to come forward.” He moved closer and set a hand on her shoulder. “Why are you so angry, Claire? Everything turned out okay. The problem is solved.”

“Spoken just like a man.”

His brows lifted.

“You really don't understand, do you?” She pulled out of reach and walked away. Her throat burned. “You didn't trust me.”

“That's not true.”

“You didn't tell me you were still trying to find Jenn. You didn't
trust
me. And you didn't honor my wishes.”

“I didn't want you involved in it anymore. I didn't want you hurt. What would you have done if I'd told you?”

“Insisted you stop.”

“Which is why I didn't. She had to be found, Claire. Surely you see that.”

“All I know is you kept it from me. If you'd explained it, maybe I would've understood. I trusted you.” She turned to face him. There was emotion on his face now. It had gotten personal. “Now I can't.”

“Ever?”

What did it matter? He wasn't a long-term guy. He'd said so. They might as well break it off now, before—

Before what? She already loved him. What more was there?

“Claire.”

There was pain in his voice. She heard it. She ignored it. If she couldn't trust him to be honest with her, to share with her, what was there?

“You need to leave,” she said.

He stared at her. Her head roared with the sound of her grandfather clock, ticking.

Finally he took a step back and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Go,” she said, the word harsh and without volume or strength.

He extended his right hand. She didn't want to shake his hand. Didn't want to touch him. She would fly into his arms, where she'd wanted to be forever, and now knew she wouldn't be. Everything had happened too fast.

But he kept his hand out until she finally extended hers. He tucked something against her palm, then turned and walked away.

She opened her hand and looked at the shell she'd given him after their beautiful stay in Santa Barbara. He'd carried it in his pocket with him. And he'd given it back.

Trancelike she went to the kitchen and opened the door. Rase stood there, his tail barely wagging. He whimpered. She sank to the floor, wrapped her arms around him and cried, for all that was and for all that might have been.

“A
re you crazy?” Jenn threw her hands in the air and walked away. “How stupid can you be?” she asked, as if she hadn't insulted Claire enough with the first question.

Claire turned toward Marie, who sat like a queen on her throne, her face bandaged but her posture regal. Marie's apartment seemed stiflingly small all of a sudden.

“Don't look at me. I agree with Jenny.”

“You let that gorgeous man go because he was trying to help you and protect you? Of all the idiotic—” Jenn shook her head. “I got you all sexed up with your new look, then you waste it.”

“You got me all sexed up so that you could make a getaway,” Claire countered.

Jenn shrugged. “Two results for the price of one action.”

Claire had sent Quinn away a week ago. She'd been miserable ever since. Even Rase had been looking at her
with accusation in his eyes. She couldn't stand it anymore. She knew if she told Marie and Jenn what had happened, they would push her into action. She'd wanted to be pushed so that she couldn't claim responsibility if she failed. She could blame Marie and Jenn.

She missed him. Missed his rare smiles, his dry wit, his protective arms. His wonderful kisses. She missed sharing life with him. Sleeping beside him. Saturday night was the loneliest night of the week—she'd found that out last night. She'd even driven to his house, saw that both of his cars were there, then left, too nervous to go to his door.

She wanted him to come to her, as unfair as that sounded. She wanted him to beg.

No, she didn't. She wanted him to love her.

Marie laid a hand on her arm. “I see you wearing white,” she said. Her eyes—which was all Claire could see well with all the bandages on her face—were serious and a little vacant, like when she'd made the prediction to Quinn about facing his past.

Claire's heart got a little hopeful, even though she knew Marie was putting on a show for her. “That's impossible. He's not a long-term guy. He told me so.”

“So, enjoy the short term.” Jenn made a rude sound. “Stupid.”

Only a sister could get away with calling her that. Claire curled her hands into fists. She stared at the floor. Well, really, what did she have to lose by trying? She'd reacted out of hurt and anger last week, and maybe even out of relief, oddly, that Jenn was okay. She hadn't seen that he'd been doing everything he could to help not just her, but Jenn, too.

She blew out a breath. “Okay.” She flattened her hands against her thighs and shoved herself up. “Okay,
I will.” Her heart thundered. She hugged Jenn and then Marie. “Wish me luck.”

“Love and luck, honey,” Marie said.

“Come, Rase.”

“Leave the damn dog here,” Jenn said. “Just let me know if you need me to keep him tonight. And remember, little sister, if things work out with you and Mr. Save the World, you have me to thank.”

Claire considered the irony. Rase stared up at her, his tail wagging at medium speed, as if knowing she had something important to do. She crouched down and kissed his head. “He changed your life, too, didn't he?”

He barked then grinned.

“I'll try. I may be setting us up for more heartache, but it's worth a try.”

Heart in hand, she drove to his house. She felt strange without Rase. Empty-handed. She liked having him along, liked having the leash to hold on to as she walked up Quinn's stairs.

She thought she was going to faint as she pushed his bell. Her legs shook. She rang the bell again and knocked, as well. Nothing. She lowered her hand, looked at the ground. Tears stung her eyes. She blinked them back.

She didn't have a plan B.

Or did she?

 

Quinn had gotten good at ignoring the doorbell. He had no trouble disregarding it now, and the knocking that followed.

It would stop soon.

When it did, he closed his eyes again. He was stretched out on his sofa, where he'd pretty much been living for the past week. He'd showered when he
couldn't stand himself any longer, but he hadn't shaved and he'd barely eaten. Sleep came in spurts. Dark, tangled dreams shook him awake then lingered for hours.

He heard a noise. Someone was in his house. How could that be?

He waited for the tiptoeing intruder to reach the top of the stairs, then he jackknifed up.

Claire gave a little scream.

Claire?

“How'd you get in?” he asked, probably too harshly, but he was stunned.

“I memorized your code.”

She memorized— From the last time she was there, when he'd carried her up his stairs? He'd punched in the code to the keyless entry panel. She'd been watching. Memorizing.

“Guess you should've blocked the panel, hmm?” she asked, bravado in her voice.

Score one for Claire.

She came toward him, scanning his face. “You're sick.”

He shook his head. He had no doubt he looked like he'd been struck with the plague, but he'd only been sick at heart.

She leaned over, almost putting her hand on his forehead before she straightened, entwining her fingers. Hope took some baby steps in his heart.

He watched her silently examine his loft. His living room was a disaster—newspapers strewn everywhere, mail stacked on the coffee table. Dirty dishes and empty beer bottles took up the remaining space.

She was obviously stunned at the mess, especially since the last time she was there she'd pronounced his home “very neat.”

“What happened?” she asked.

You.
The word jammed in his throat. He saw her focus on some pages he'd printed off the Internet—flight information for London.

“I'm going to see my mother,” he said.

“Oh, I'm so glad. You won't regret it.”

“I hope not. I'm going back to see my father, too. That should make you happy.”

“The point is, it will make you happy.”

He shrugged. “Why are you here, Claire? What's wrong?” he asked. It must have taken something big to bring her to his house in person.

“Nothing's wrong.”

He waited. Hope began to take strides. “Nothing?”

“Well. Maybe that's not true.” She started picking up the newspapers and stacking them. “Maybe everything's wrong.”

Hope jumped up and cheered.

“Maybe I realized that I was wrong, and you were right and— And I needed to tell you that.” She still wasn't making eye contact. “From the way you look, maybe everything's wrong for you, too.”

He stood. She said nothing else, just stared ahead at the opposite wall. He came up behind her, touched her shoulders lightly, felt her tremble.

“Everything's wrong,” he said quietly. “I've missed you.”

She dropped the newspapers and pushed her hands against her mouth as a sob rose up from her.

“Claire.” He turned her toward him. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I love you,” he said, the first-time words spilling out joyously.

She nodded. Her eyes said the words back, although she tried to say them out loud. Her arms snaked around
his neck. She burrowed into him. “Love you, too,” she finally said. “I was stupid.”

“No.” He stroked her hair. “I was. I should've confided in you. Trusted you. I've never had anyone to do that with before. I've been alone so long….”

“You don't have to be anymore.”

He tightened his hold on her and laughed a little. “Aren't you even going to let me be the one to ask—”

“I didn't mean that,” she interrupted, horror in her voice as she pulled back and looked him in the eye. “I know you're not long-term. I just want you to know that it doesn't matter to me. I'll take whatever I can get.”

“Really?” He didn't believe her for a second. Well, he believed she would try, but she wasn't cut out for that kind of relationship. All or nothing, he figured. And he sure as hell wasn't letting it be nothing.

“About those rules of engagement,” he said.

“Attraction.”

“No. I got it right.” He waited for his words to set in. Her eyes widened. He saw he'd made his point. “I love you, Claire. People will tell us we're crazy for going into this so fast. But I'm as sure about wanting to marry you as I've been about anything in my life. Please say yes.”

“Rule number— I don't know what number it is,” she said with a smile. “Never stop telling me you love me. No changing that rule.”

“Deal. And rule number…whatever. When I ask you a question, you answer.”

She tightened her hold around his neck and pulled herself snug against him. “Yes.”

“Yes to the rule or yes to—”

“Yes to everything.”

“You say that now, P.A., but at some point you're going to want a do-over.”

“Only for this,” she said, right before she kissed him, over and over and over again. Maybe someday they would get it right.