“I just work hard, and I have an insatiable curiosity.”
“See? We’re two peas in a pod. If you hadn’t managed the situation, Lubec would have killed Steve Eisenhardt. Now, he’s talking. You’re independent, Quinn. You’re courageous. You make things happen.”
“But I’m not patient. You’re patient.”
“Only when I have to be. Right now, Quinn, I can’t last another second without making love to you.”
She smiled. “Oh, good.”
By the time they reached her front porch, Huck scooped her up and carried her inside to the bedroom, clean and tidy, everything back in order after Steve’s panicked search for the missing pills. Citalopram. That was what Alicia had taken, thanks to Steve, who was pressured by Travis Lubec, who’d believed he was acting on orders from Oliver Crawford through Sharon Riccardi. Only it was Sharon, not Crawford, who’d wanted Alicia dead.
It was all a mess, one still getting sorted out by local, state and federal authorities.
Huck laid her on the bed, easing on top of her. “Quinn?” He smoothed back her hair and touched the tears at the corners of her eyes. “I can tell you’re thinking.”
She smiled. “I’m always thinking.”
“Stop.”
He kissed her softly, briefly, then kept his mouth close to hers. She stared into his eyes, noticing how dark they were, how intent they were on her. He had such focus and control, and yet he was, she thought, one of the kindest men she’d ever known.
“Quinn?” He gave her a mock frown. “You’re thinking, aren’t you?”
This time she laughed. The afternoon sun filled the small room, the curtains fluttering in a warm breeze. She wrapped her arms around him and felt the weight of him on her, the hard muscles of his legs, his arms, his back. A wild mix of sensations made her head spin.
“Okay,” she whispered, pressing him onto her, feeling his urgency. “No more thinking.”
This time, their kiss was neither soft nor brief, deepening quickly, his hands sliding up her bare legs and over her hips to the waistband of her shorts. Quinn didn’t try to stop or control her reaction, or hide it from him. She helped him slide down her shorts, dispatch with them, and then her shirt and bra. He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him, and, placing his strong hands just under her breasts, he held her up from him and gazed at her.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said. “Damn, Quinn-I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
He smoothed his palms over her breasts, and she caught her breath, surprised at the sheer enormity of her reaction, until, finally, he drew her down to him, capturing one nipple in his mouth. She helped get him out of his clothes, and by the time they cast his jeans off, the anticipation of making love to him had her aching.
“I can’t…wait anymore,” she said.
He smiled. “Good.”
She lay on her back, taking him with her, into her. For a moment, neither breathed. Then he moved, a slow, erotic thrust, and she clutched his arms, digging in her fingers, and lifted her hips to take in all of him, exulting in the feel of him inside her. It was all the cue he needed. He deepened, quickened his thrusts, and she responded, never having experienced such a powerful mix of emotions and sensations.
When she came, she cried out his name, but he was coming too, falling hard with her, until they were, exhausted, spent, clinging to each other in the afternoon breeze.
They made love again, taking their time, exploring each other at length, holding back nothing.
Quinn couldn’t imagine not having him in her life.
Afterward, they drank iced tea on the porch, the tide out, dusk coming more slowly now that it was late spring.
“Now,” Quinn said, “about Fredericksburg and my grandfather…”
Huck stretched out his thick legs. “You didn’t tell me he dresses like Rhett Butler.”
She laughed. “You’re making that up.”
His eyes glinted with humor. “Ah, the things your grandpapa’s never told you.”
“Who did you tell him you were?”
“The lawman in love with his granddaughter.”
“Huck.”
“He liked it that I’m a marshal. He’s probably one of about a dozen people who knows that the Marshals Service is the oldest law enforcement agency in America.”
“That’s not what-”
He wasn’t listening. “I told him that his granddaughter is a romantic adventurer at heart. He liked that, too, because it shows that I know you.”
Unable to hold on to her tea glass, Quinn set it down. “Huck, my grandfather isn’t an adventurer.”
“I don’t know. In some ways, he’s the biggest adventurer of all you Harlowes. He’s not afraid of asking questions, of seeing people in all their complexity. I told him I’m not a perfect man.” Huck set down his own tea and got up. “I told him that I know I have to prove to you that you’re the one for me. The only one.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“Quinn-”