Quinn's Woman Page 5

  Rebecca took one for herself and nibbled daintily. As usual, all conversation ceased until they’d each downed at least one Danish and felt the kick-start, blood-sugar rush of refined carbohydrates and frosting.

  D.J. finished first and licked her fingers. Rebecca dabbed at her mouth with a napkin.

  They couldn’t be more different, D.J. thought affectionately. Rebecca was all girl, from her long, curly hair to her wardrobe of soft, flowing, floral-print dresses. She wore foolish shoes, delicate jewelry and wouldn’t be caught dead in town without makeup.

  “You’re looking at my dress,” Rebecca said when she’d finished her Danish. “You hate it.”

  “No. It’s great.”

  D.J. studied the light-blue flowers scattered on a white background, the scalloped neckline and the girlish capped sleeves, while trying desperately not to wince.

  “I just don’t understand why you have to dress so...girly.”

  Rebecca took another Danish. “We don’t all need to look as if we’d just come from a sale at the army surplus store. Olive green isn’t my color. Besides, Austin likes how I dress.”

  End of argument, D.J. told herself. If Austin mentioned he would like the rotation of the earth changed, Rebecca would set out to see what she could do to make that happen. She adored her husband past the point of reason. D.J. found the situation palatable only because Austin was a good man—weren’t those few and far between?—and he loved his wife just as completely. D.J. believed down to her bones that if someone tried to hurt Rebecca, Austin would rip that person into stamp-size pieces.

  Rebecca looked her over, making D.J. aware of her camouflage pants and heavy boots.

  “You’re expecting a war later?”

  “Real funny.” D.J. grabbed a second pastry. “So what’s going on?”

  Rebecca filled her in on the latest escapades of her four children, including David’s increasing fascination with cars. “He’s going to be a holy terror on the road,” Rebecca said, her voice mixed with worry and pride. “He’s already poring through Austin’s car magazines and giving us suggestions for his sixteenth birthday.”

  The conversation continued. Rebecca made it a habit to drop in two or three mornings a week. D.J. enjoyed hearing about her family. As she didn’t plan to get married, and doubted she would be a very good single mom, Rebecca’s kids were as close to her own as she was going to get.

  “I’m having a party next week,” Rebecca announced as she poured them each more coffee.

  D.J. held up her hands in protest. “No, thanks.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “You have two kinds of parties. One is for couples, which means you’re going to set me up with some guy I don’t want to meet. The other is a girls-only deal where someone will be trying to sell something I’ll find completely useless.”

  “Cosmetics,” Rebecca confirmed. “And they’re not useless. I know you’re not a big fan of makeup, but you take good care of your skin. This line of skin care is really amazing. Besides, it would be good for you to get out.”

  “I get out.”

  “I’m talking about spending some time with normal women.”

  “I spend time with you.”

  Rebecca sighed. “Why can’t you be more social?”

  “It’s not my thing.”

  “So what is your thing?”

  D.J. thought of Quinn. He intrigued her. “There was this guy I met during the war games,” she said.

  Rebecca instantly brightened. “Did he ask you out?”

  “It wasn’t like that. I captured him, but only because I got lucky. I want him to teach me what he knows.”

  “Which is what?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve asked around a little and found out that he works for a secret branch of the military. I’ll bet he knows more about killing people than anyone I’ve met.”

  Rebecca shuddered. “Not exactly someone you want to have over for dinner. What’s the guy’s appeal? You don’t kill people. You keep them alive.”

  “The more I know, the better.”

  Her friend studied her. “You seem very determined. Are you sure this is only about the exchange of knowledge?”

  D.J. didn’t bother answering. It was a stupid question. Well, maybe not stupid. There had been that kiss.

  She instantly shoved the memory away. The kiss had been nothing, she told herself. Any reaction she’d felt had been brought on by exhaustion or adrenaline or a spider bite.

  “Why does your silence sound so guilty?” Rebecca asked.

  D.J. did her best not to squirm. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, I believe that.” She flicked her long hair over her shoulder and shook her head. “If he’s so special, can’t you just date him? Does every encounter have to be a battle?”

  “I asked him to teach me some things, but he wasn’t interested. I even offered to pay him.”

  “Not exactly the best way to win him over.”

  “I don’t want him to like me.”

  “Why not?”

  It was an old conversation and one D.J. wasn’t about to start up again. Rebecca had never understood her reluctance to get involved with a man. She didn’t get that caring meant vulnerability. Danger lurked in most relationships. Men were bigger, stronger and, for the most part, meaner. Not all of them, of course, but D.J. wasn’t taking any chances.

  “I don’t want a boyfriend, just an instructor,” she said. “Don’t try to change my mind. Just tell me how to convince him to help me out.”

  “I will, but under protest. You need a good man in your life.”

  D.J. rotated her wrist, motioning for Rebecca to get on with it. Her friend smiled impishly.

  “There’s only one way to get a man to do something he doesn’t want to do.”

  Finally, D.J. thought. Information she could use. “What’s that?”

  “Give him the one thing he really wants and can’t get any other way.”

  CHAPTER 4

  D.J. hovered in front of the hotel room door. She hated to think of herself as someone who hovered, but there was no other way to describe her actions. She reached up to knock once, then took two steps back and shoved her hands into her jeans pockets.

  This was crazy, she told herself. She shouldn’t even bother. She wouldn’t, either, except she really wanted Quinn to teach her a few tricks. But would he agree?

  Rebecca had said to find something he wanted that he couldn’t get any other way and offer it to him. Great advice, except she didn’t know what would interest him. Except for something he’d mentioned while he’d been her prisoner.

  He’d teased her about taking advantage of him, joked about her searching him more thoroughly and had wanted to kiss her. She might not have a date with a different guy every Friday night, but she knew something about the male of the species. The way into a man’s frame of reference wasn’t through great cooking, witty conversation or a sparkling personality. Nope, guys were more basic than that. Something she thought she could use to her advantage.

  She stalked up to the door and raised her hand again. This time she knocked, then wished she hadn’t. Planning to make a deal with Quinn was one thing, but going through with it was something else. She didn’t usually offer to pay for things with sex. In fact it was something she’d never done. But desperate times called for—

  The door opened.

  D.J. had already come up with several opening lines. She didn’t like to get caught unaware. But all her prep work hadn’t prepared her for the impact of seeing Quinn again.

  As a rule, a man was a man was a man. A few she liked, a few she wished were dead and the rest rarely made an impact on her life. She considered herself sensible, autonomous and rational. So why did the sight of Quinn standing in the doorway to his hotel room suddenly made her chest go tight?

  Nerves, she told herself firmly. She didn’t usually allow herself to feel them, but obviously they were bothering her. A few deep breaths
and she would be fine. Really.

  Quinn stared at her for several seconds, then smiled. As the corners of his mouth turned up, he leaned one forearm against the door frame and shifted his weight to one leg. The other was slightly bent at the knee. He looked relaxed...and predatory. Big, tall, powerful.

  His physical resemblance to the Haynes brothers eased some of her tension, but not all of it. He might look like them, but could he be trusted like one of them? Did it matter?

  “Afternoon, D.J.,” he said. “This is a surprise.”

  “I’m sure it is.”

  He studied her, his dark eyes taking in every detail of her appearance. Once again she had the ridiculous urge to make sure no strands of hair had pulled loose from her braid.

  She returned the appraisal, checking out his blue short-sleeved shirt tucked into jeans. His feet were bare and his hair tousled. It might be the middle of the afternoon, but he looked as if he’d just gotten out of bed.

  He pushed off the door frame and stepped back. The invitation was clear. Come on in.

  She stepped into the room, showing a confidence she didn’t feel. Familiar statistics filled her mind—the number of women attacked in hotel rooms each year, the number of women date raped in hotel rooms, the number of—

  She drew in a deep breath and consciously cleared her mind. Quinn wasn’t going to attack her. She’d come here on her own. No one was drunk, no one was going to get hurt. Perspective, she told herself. If nothing else, she could stomp the hell out of him and make her escape. He might have fifty pounds of muscles on her but his bare feet were no match for her heavy boots.

  “Have a seat,” he said, motioning to a chair by the window.

  She took in the plain room, the large bed, a desk with a straight back chair, the low dresser with the television. There weren’t any personal effects lying around, with the exception of a hardback mystery propped open on the bed. No pictures, no wallet, no dirty socks.

  Instead of taking the seat he offered, she grabbed the chair from the desk and turned it around. She was less than ten feet from the door. When Quinn sat on the edge of the bed, she had an unrestricted escape route to either the door or the window. Not that she planned to need either.

  When he was settled, she tried to remember what she’d wanted to say. Somehow she’d forgotten all of her carefully constructed opening lines. So not like her. She would have to improvise.

  “I’m impressed by what happened during the war games,” she said.

  Quinn grinned. “I’m an impressive guy.”

  She ignored the comment and the smile, not to mention the odd fluttering in her stomach. Had the sub sandwich she’d eaten for lunch not agreed with her?

  “I haven’t changed my mind,” she told him. “I still want you to teach me what you know.”

  “I haven’t change my mind, either. Thanks, but I’m not interested.”

  “I plan to convince you.”

  He arched his eyebrows. “How?”

  “By any means necessary. I thought we could work out a trade. You give me what I want and I’ll give you what you want.”

  Quinn had been hit on by a lot of women in his time. Some had actually meant it, while a few were just in it for the money. Still, not one of those invitations had surprised him as much as D.J.’s.

  Sex for information? Why?

  He studied her face, looking for clues. There weren’t any, except for a faint tension that told him she was more nervous than she wanted him to know. He lowered his gaze to her body. She wore a tank top and tight jeans. No bra. She looked good enough to start a war. He couldn’t say he wasn’t tempted, but he had long since learned that nothing in life was easy. People always did things for a reason. What was hers?

  “What’s so important that you’d offer yourself in trade?” he asked.

  She flinched slightly at the question, then quickly brought herself under control. “I don’t choose to look at it that way.”

  So how did she look at it? Her reaction told him she hadn’t come up with the deal lightly. From their first encounter, he knew she was fearless, determined and always looking for an edge. Her seating choice made that clear. She hadn’t taken the more comfortable chair across the room. That seat would have put her at a disadvantage. She wouldn’t have had a clear line to the door and she would have lost precious seconds extricating herself from the soft cushions.

  So what would make her want to subjugate herself to him just to learn a few moves?

  “My work is important to me,” she said. “I’ve told you that I’m often hired to help on cases where children have been kidnapped. I’m trained to go in with the rescue team, be they Federal agents or hired guns. Sometimes those situations get out of hand and I have to improvise. The more I know, the better I can react, the more kids get saved.”

  Uh-huh. Do it for the children, he thought, not impressed or convinced. He didn’t doubt she was good, but that wasn’t why she was here.

  “And that’s it?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I teach self-defense. My company offers seminars on everything from keeping your children safe to how to survive a mugging. The more I know, the more my students know.”

  “You’re already well trained enough for what you do,” he said.

  When she started to protest, he cut her off.

  “How many black belts do you have?” he asked.

  Her full mouth twisted. “Three.”

  “You can handle guns?”

  “Yes, but—”

  He cut her off again, this time with a quick shake of his head. He stood and wasn’t surprised when she rose as well.

  He walked close, then motioned her to step forward. When she reluctantly did so, he circled around her. He studied the muscles in her arms and upper back, the leanness of her hips. He remembered how they’d fought together and what she’d tried on him.

  “You’ve developed your upper body,” he said, more to himself than to her. “Women are at a disadvantage there, but you’ve worked to mitigate that. You’re strong, you have stamina, you’re well trained. Like I said, you know enough.”

  “Not enough to beat you,” she said.

  “I’m unlikely to start kidnapping kids.”

  “I want the challenge. You should understand that.”

  He understood a lot of things. For one thing, the lady had secrets. But then, so did he.

  “You’ll never be strong enough,” he told her. “There’s always going to be someone faster, smarter, better.”

  “But what you know could give me an edge.”

  What he knew could haunt her and make her wish she was dead.

  He turned away and crossed to the window. She wasn’t asking about his world. She didn’t want to know stories. She was only interested in his skills.

  He glanced down at his hands. Sure, he could teach her dozens of things. Would they be enough? Would they make her feel safe? That depended on her secrets.

  The irony of the situation was that he wanted to tell her yes. Not because he believed any of her reasons for why this was important but because there was something about her that intrigued him. She was a fascinating combination of tough and vulnerable. He long ago learned to focus only on work, to never allow himself to be touched by anything or anyone.

  Could it be different with D.J.? She’d made him laugh, made him forget who and what he was. She’d made him remember a world that was normal. She was tough enough that he didn’t have to watch himself all the time and vulnerable enough to—

  He cut off himself in midthought. Wanting her was allowed. Finding her interesting was stupid but understandable. Anything else was a pipe dream and likely to mess with his brain in a way that would cause him to end up dead on his next assignment. No way would he go there.

  Yeah, he wanted to help her. But he couldn’t make it easy. She would never respect that.

  He turned back to her. She kept her expression neutral, but he could see the effort she put into remaining impassive. She wanted
to bully him into agreeing, or offer him another tempting deal.

  “You’re not in good enough shape,” he said. “You’d never be able to keep up with me.”

  D.J. was nothing if not predictable. She immediately bristled and glared at him. “I can handle anything you can.”

  “Sure.” He deliberately sounded unconvinced.

  “I’ll prove it to you.”

  Exactly what he wanted.

  He pretended to consider her suggestion long past when he’d already decided, then shrugged. “You get one chance. You blow it and it’s over.”

  “Fine.”

  “We’ll start in the morning. Go for a run, then work out. If you can keep up, we’ll talk about me teaching you a few things. You fall behind or start complaining, it’s over.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “I don’t complain.”

  “We’ll see.”

  He returned to the bed and took a seat. D.J. settled into her chair and tried not to look pleased. Most people wouldn’t notice the slight tug on the corner of her mouth or the flash of determination in her eyes, but he’d been trained to see past the obvious to the nuances hidden below. She’d already decided she was going to blow him away in the morning. She was determined to be good enough to make him eat his words. He couldn’t wait.

  But first there was the small matter of payment.

  “Not sex,” he said.

  “What?”

  “You won’t be paying me with sex.”

  D.J.’s gaze turned suspicious. “Why not?”

  He allowed himself to smile. “That would make it too easy.”

  “So how do you want to get paid?”

  “I haven’t decided yet, but when I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

  * * *

  That evening Quinn drove across town to meet his brother at the local bed and breakfast where Gage was staying. He’d offered to reserve a room for Quinn, as well, but Quinn preferred the anonymity of hotels.

  B and B’s required interaction, something he wasn’t always good at.

  He’d spent most of the previous day with his brother. The two of them had talked about the discovery of new relations. There weren’t just new half brothers to consider. There was also a half sister, spouses and children. Each of the Haynes seemed to believe in large families.