Quinn's Woman Read online

  They had touched him more than anything. More than her willingness to enjoy making love, more than her pleasure and the way she’d lost herself to passion. Her tears had been a reaction to years of holding herself apart. They’d exposed the vulnerability of her heart. He’d held her because he’d needed to be close as much as she had. All these years he’d wondered if he would find someone who could understand and accept him. He didn’t care that she’d turned out to be prickly, difficult and scarred. He was scarred, too. They could heal together.

  She circled around him and faked another kick, then punched with her right arm. The blow connected with his midsection. She might be a woman and at a disadvantage when it came to upper-body strength, but she punched like a guy.

  As the air rushed out of his lungs, he took a step back. D.J. moved in closer and punched again. This time he batted her arm around. She turned and kicked.

  During practice sessions she was always focused and determined. She never quit, never slacked off. But this was different. He had the feeling she was out for blood.

  “We’re done,” he said, stepping off the mat.

  “What? Why are you stopping? We’re not through.”

  “I am.”

  He crossed to the small refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. Her reaction shouldn’t surprise him. After what they’d shared, he’d thought she would back off. But not this much. He couldn’t help being disappointed.

  “It’s because I’m getting good, isn’t it?” she taunted. “You can’t stand that.”

  He glanced at her. She stood in the center of the mats, her hands on her hips. He recognized the symptoms. She was flushed, bouncing with energy and ready for a fight.

  “You’re not here for a lesson,” he said. “You’re here because you’re angry. Probably more with yourself than me, but I’m the easier target.”

  “I didn’t realize you had a degree in psychology,” she sneered. “Thanks for the analysis. So you’re a gentleman killer. How new century.”

  He unscrewed the top on the water bottle and took a long drink. The action gave him time to access the damage her emotional hit had inflicted. Because after all this time, she knew exactly where to send in the warhead.

  He was a killer. He could cover the truth with fancy words and patriotic stories, but that was the truth he couldn’t escape.

  “I’m out of here,” he said, heading for the door.

  “Because you can’t stay to fight? What’s the problem, Quinn? Afraid? But I’m just a girl. I can’t be that much of a challenge for a professional like you. Come on, big guy. You can take me.”

  He stopped and faced her. “Why are you doing this? We had something amazing, D.J. Why do you want to destroy it?”

  She walked toward him. “What I want to do is kick your butt. I want to beat you. I want to make you admit that I’m better.”

  She wasn’t. She couldn’t be, and they both knew it. So what the hell was going on?

  Before he could decide what to do, she came at him. He shifted and batted away her kick. She tried to punch him. He put up his arm to block her just as she dropped her hands, and he accidentally came within inches of hitting her in the face.

  Instantly he swore and stepped back. “What the hell was that?” he asked, feeling set up. “What are you playing at?” She’d deliberately faked him out, but why? So he would hurt her?

  “Hit me,” she yelled. “You know you want to.” She rose on her toes and leaned toward him. “Do it.”

  He couldn’t have been more horrified if she’d shot him. He swore silently and took another step back. Whatever this game was, he didn’t want a part of it.

  “Hit me!” she screamed.

  And then he knew. All of it. The fury, the fear, the need to lash out and why he had to be the enemy. With the knowledge came sadness and a sense of loss. Both were bitter and metallic on his tongue, like blood.

  He’d thought, he’d hoped...but he’d been wrong.

  “I’m sorry,” he told her, his voice quiet.

  She practically vibrated with rage. “Don’t be sorry, you bastard. Just do it!”

  He shook his head. “I can’t. I won’t. But all of this—” He motioned to her, then to the room. “It’s my fault. I thought if you saw what we could be like together, that it would be enough. But it’s not. I can’t fight your ghosts, D.J. And you won’t.”

  “What the hell are you babbling about?”

  “You. Us. Night before last we connected in a way that shook both of us.”

  She rolled her eyes. “In your dreams.”

  He ignored her. “I’m scared, too, but the difference is, I don’t want to walk away from it. I’m willing to say that you matter to me. That we matter. That there’s something special here.”

  “There’s nothing here,” she yelled. “Nothing.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “My mistake.”

  He reached out and took her hand in his. She tried to twist away, but he wouldn’t let her. Still he was careful not to hurt her.

  “You want me to hit you,” he said, “because if I do, you can walk away. If I hit you, then I’m just like the rest of them, and you’re right. You don’t have to care.”

  He released her. “I’m going to make it easy on you, D.J. I’m not going to make you face your demons. I’m going to leave.”

  “Coward.”

  He shook his head. “Funny how all this time I worried about being good enough for you. I never saw you weren’t good enough for me.”

  She went white but didn’t speak.

  He shrugged. Only a fool would expect more.

  He started for the door, then paused and glanced back at her. “I haven’t been in a fight since I was fifteen, and I sure as hell never hit a woman. But you already know that. You know I would never hurt you. But that doesn’t matter because you made up your mind not to trust me before we even met. You won’t trust anyone, and I’m the worst of the bunch. I’m faster, stronger and better trained, and you aren’t willing to risk that.”

  “You have no right to judge me,” she told him, her eyes narrowed, her mouth set. “You didn’t live my life.”

  “You’re not that eleven-year-old little girl anymore. Can’t you see that?” He wondered why he was bothering. She wouldn’t listen. But for reasons that weren’t clear, he couldn’t stop trying.

  “You live your life in a emotional plastic bubble,” he said. “No one gets in and you don’t get hurt. But is that a life? Is that what you want? I’m willing to walk away from what I’ve known and start over. Why aren’t you? I thought we could matter to each other. I thought we were each other’s perfect match. But you don’t want an equal. You want someone you can push around. You’ve lived in fear your entire life, avoiding men like your father. Well, guess what, D.J.? You haven’t avoided him enough. You’ve turned into him. You’re only interested in people you can bully, just like him.”

  * * *

  D.J. watched him walk away. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t go after him, couldn’t even breathe. Instead she sank to her knees as the blows that were his words attacked her. She felt ripped apart, exposed and left for dead. She curled up on the floor, pulling her knees to her chest and trying not to let the pain overwhelm her.

  He was wrong, she told herself as she squeezed her eyes shut. He was wrong. About all of it. Most especially about her.

  But there were too many fragments of truth for her to ignore. Too many whispers that he might be right. Too much shame for her to turn her back. Quinn had held a mirror up to her psyche, and she was stunned to find someone she hated staring back at her.

  * * *

  “My father used to beat me and my mother,” D.J. said tonelessly, and recounted the story of her broken arm and the trip to the hospital. She spoke of how her mother had sent her to school the next day, then had killed her husband and herself.

  Rebecca listened quietly. When D.J. finished, she shifted on the sofa so she could touch D.J.’s hand.

&
nbsp; “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

  D.J. nodded. “But not surprised.”

  Rebecca shrugged. “You have scars. I’ve worked with enough wounded kids to have had an idea about how you got them.” She leaned back into the cushions. “I don’t understand people like that. People who abuse and abandon their children. What makes them do it? Why can’t they see how sick they are and get help? And how dare your mother choose death over staying with you? She could have run.” She frowned. “This kind of information makes me furious.”

  “Thanks for caring about me. It means a lot.”

  More than a lot, D.J. told herself. It meant everything.

  She glanced around at her small living room—the place she’d once thought of as a sanctuary. Now it was little more than the place she paced the nights away. It was cold and dark, even with the sun shining. She had thought if she confessed the truth to her friend, she would find peace. But her heart still ached, and she knew she would never be warm again.

  “I was wrong,” she whispered, fighting back tears. “I was wrong not to trust him. I was scared so I lashed out.”

  “You made a mistake. We all do. For what it’s worth, Quinn was wrong, too.” Rebecca smiled. “You’re not a bully, D.J. You never were.”

  “I’m exactly like my father. I only want to be around people I can control.”

  Rebecca laughed. “Give me a break. In this friendship, I’m the strong one, not you.”

  D.J. nearly fell over in shock. “What are you saying? You’re a...a...girl.”

  “I’m a woman who is content with her life and her place in the world. There isn’t anyone more powerful than that.”

  D.J. understood. Rebecca lived her life out of love and hope, while D.J. existed in fear.

  She’d spent the past week looking at herself and seeing ugly truths. She’d discovered the dark corners of her soul, and what she found there made her shudder.

  “I don’t know how to be different,” she whispered.

  “Yes, you do. You’re already changing.” She winked. “Daisy Jane.”

  “I can’t believe I told you that.”

  “I’m impressed. And I can see why you go by your initials.”

  D.J. smiled. “Thanks for being so supportive.”

  “I want to do whatever I can to help, but this isn’t about me, is it? It’s about Quinn.”

  D.J. didn’t want to think about him. It hurt too much. “He was right there. He said he cared about me. He showed it in everything he did. And I tossed it all back in his face.”

  Her eyes burned. She started to blink back the tears, only to remember that she was done hiding behind a facade. She was going to be who she really was, even if that meant facing her demons head-on. She wasn’t going to run anymore.

  “I said some horrible things,” she murmured as she brushed away the tears. “He’ll never forgive me.”

  He’d probably already forgotten about her. It had been a week. Each day she’d wondered if he would get in touch with her. If he would try to make things right. But he hadn’t. No doubt he didn’t think she was worth the trouble. She couldn’t blame him. He’d talked about finding a match. His match would be someone whole and loving. Not someone like her.

  She shrugged. “I’ll get over him.”

  “I guess that means you’re not willing to admit you love him.”

  It had taken D.J. three days to be able to admit the truth to herself. Now she was about to admit it to someone else. Talk about scary.

  She looked at her friend. “I do love him. I know that means the whole ‘getting over’ part is going to take a lot longer.” A lifetime. “He’s the best thing that ever happened to me, and I let him get away.”

  “You sure did. Bummer. So you figure he’s long gone, right?”

  “Yeah. I thought about getting in touch with Gage and asking him where Quinn went, but—” she swallowed “—I’m too scared.”

  “You know Gage is back in Texas, right?”

  “Uh-huh. Travis told me.”

  Rebecca studied her nails. “Gage left with Kari, and Kevin and Haley are gone, too. Nash is staying, of course. You’d think Quinn would have blown this Popsicle stand, yet he’s still camped out at his hotel. I wonder why.”

  D.J.’s heart stood still. Hope filled her. It was scary and unfamiliar, but it was a whole lot better than loss and pain. She stood. “He’s here? He’s in town?”

  “Yup. What do you suppose that means?”

  D.J. pulled Rebecca to her feet, then hugged her close. “It means I have a chance. Doesn’t it?”

  Rebecca straightened and smiled. “I think it means you have a really good one. But a word of advice.” She fingered D.J.’s stained T-shirt. “You haven’t showered in days. You might want to take a second to clean up before you go try to win back your man. And wear something sexy. Guys like that.”

  Two hours later D.J. studied herself in the full-length mirror on her closet door. As much as she’d wanted to rush right over to Quinn’s hotel room, she’d taken Rebecca’s advice and showered. Then she’d agonized over what to wear. Now she was ready to leave and not sure if she had the courage to go.

  Could she face Quinn and apologize for what she’d done and said? When she thought about some of the things she’d told him, she wanted to hide in a closet for the next twenty years. Except she’d spent the past sixteen years hiding—from her past, from what she was afraid of, from what she’d become. As Quinn had pointed out, she’d cut herself off from life. It was time to change everything.

  Quinn was her world. She loved him. If she wanted a chance to prove that, she was going to have to start by seeing him.

  She gave herself a once-over and wished she’d asked Rebecca to stay. She wanted another opinion. Did she look sexy or just stupid? Did it matter? She wanted Quinn, and if he wanted her, he was going to have to realize she didn’t do the girl thing very well. But she was willing to learn. Not necessarily for him, but also for herself. She needed to explore the side of herself she’d been denying for so long. But first she had to figure out if Quinn was willing to give her a second chance.

  * * *

  Quinn tossed his T-shirts in the suitcase. He’d waited a week because he’d hoped D.J. would come around and see things as they were. She’d hadn’t and there was no other reason to stay in Glenwood.

  Travis had tried to convince him to take a job at the sheriff’s office. While Quinn intended to join the mainstream, he couldn’t do it here. Not with D.J. so close. Knowing she was in the same town, walking the same streets, seeing the same people—it would hurt too much. He’d finally found the one woman he could be with and she wasn’t interested. Life had a hell of a sense of humor.

  He crossed to the bathroom and collected his shaving kit. There was still an unopened box of condoms tucked inside. When he’d first met D.J. and had realized how much she turned him on, he’d practically bought out the drugstore’s supply of protection. Optimistic bastard, he thought grimly. Now she was out of his life and all he had was—

  A knock at the door made him turn. He dropped the box back into his shaving kit and walked into the bedroom. There was a second knock.

  “Coming,” he called and reached for the door handle. When he pulled the door open, he started to speak, then found he couldn’t.

  D.J. stood in the hallway. At least he was pretty sure it was her. His eyes saw and his brain registered, but neither body part believed.

  She wore a black minidress, high heels and nothing else that he could see. Based on how high the hem came and how low the front dipped, he doubted there was anything else. Full, soft curls tumbled down her back. Makeup accentuated wide, frightened eyes. She was gorgeous. A sexual goddess. If she’d come here to seduce him, he was going to have a tough time telling her no.

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. After shaking her head, she pushed past him and entered the room.

  “I was wrong,” she said, talking quickly. “About everything. You, me, my past. I
was an idiot. Worse, I hurt you. I said horrible things and I’m sorry.”

  He closed the door. Both wary and intrigued, he folded his arms over his chest. “Go on.”

  “I shouldn’t have taunted you that day,” she said, her voice low. She swallowed. “I was scared and angry. What we’d done, what I’d felt—it terrified me. You were right about me living in an emotional plastic bubble. I kept the world at bay because caring to me was the same as dying. What I didn’t see was that living alone was a different kind of death.”

  She laced her fingers together in front of her stomach. “You’ve been so patient with me and I don’t know why. I mean, why did you bother? Why didn’t you just walk away?”

  “There aren’t many out there like you,” he told her. “You’re tough and vulnerable. Feminine, strong and hell on wheels. How could I resist?”

  Some of the fear faded from her eyes. “Really? I thought maybe it was because I don’t mind about your past. I understand what you’ve done and I’m okay with it. You’re a good man. The best. What you did doesn’t change that. I know you’re stronger than me, and better and faster and all those things and it’s okay. You’ll never hurt me.”

  At her words, the tightness around his chest eased. He drew in a deep breath and moved close. They were so right for each other, he thought contentedly. She’d finally seen that.

  “What are you saying, Daisy Jane?”

  “That I agree with what you told me last week. That we’re a match.”

  “I was telling you I loved you.”

  She smiled then. A bright, pure smile of happiness that nearly blinded him.

  “I love you, too. I want to get free of my past so I can have a future with you. If you want me. I mean if you were talking about more than just a—”

  He pulled her close and kissed her. Their lips met in a hot, hungry kiss that spoke of too much time apart and a lifetime of possibilities together.

  “I was talking about forever,” he said against her mouth. “I want to marry you.” He chuckled. “If for no other reason than the minister is going to be saying your name out loud for the world to hear.”

  “I don’t mind,” she said, clinging to him. “Oh, Quinn, if you want you can join my business. We could expand and rescue more kids and maybe take on different projects. We could—”