with her lime-green sundress on again; he liked the bikini better but she’d burn easily with her skin. And at least he now knew exactly what was under that dress. It would give him something to do later, peeling it off her….
He offered her a plate and glass from the hamper and she stretched her legs out along the seat, sighing with pleasure.
“Ever sailed before?” he asked.
“No. Howard was never interested in boats.”
Quinn popped a cheese-topped cracker in his mouth. “Did you get on?”
“With Howard?” She considered. “Most of the time. He wasn’t averse to sharing his opinion on clothes, friends, music and so on, but I suppose that was his right since he paid the bills.”
She unscrewed the cap of the chilled sauvignon blanc wine and held it up to him.
Quinn had his mouth full but shook his head, holding up a bottle of water instead.
Dani leaned back on the seat with her wine and a plate of nibbles. “He was kinder to me than to the others. I was never going to run his company, so I guess he went easier on me.”
“He bought the shop for you, didn’t he?”
“It was a loan, one I’ve nearly paid off.”
“Why do you think they never married?” Quinn really wanted to know why the bastard never publicly acknowledged Dani as his daughter.
“Who?” She looked blank.
“Your mother and Howard.”
She took a sip of wine, her brow wrinkling. “Why would they marry? He was her brother-in-law.”
“They obviously liked each other well enough to stay together all those years,” he mused aloud.
“They were a bit like an old married couple, I suppose, when he wasn’t out putting it around …” She grinned.
“But she still stayed?” Don’t tell him Sonya wasn’t in for all she could get. Quinn had never met Sonya Hammond, but the Sydney press had long speculated on the relationship between the womanising Howard Blackstone and his sister-in-law. No matter how often the Blackstone publicity machine denied it, Dani’s paternity was subject to debate on a regular basis. Most—Quinn included—assumed she was Howard’s love child.
“I know everyone thought Mum was his mistress,” Dani said moodily. “I’ve lived with the scandalised looks and whispers all my life. But my mum has more class in her little finger than all of them.”
“But there was you.” If Howard didn’t want to acknowledge his love child, why did he flaunt them, keep them in his house?
Her gaze was unwavering, if a little cool. “Howard’s not my father,” she said tiredly. “Look, I know you hate him and I know he has—had—his faults. But he looked after us.” She looked down, picking at the hem of her dress. “Which is a lot more than can be said for my real father.”
“Who is …?”
“Who cares?” she shot back. “Not him, that’s for sure.”
Quinn held up his hands, remembering the cliché about redheads and temper. “Sorry. Touchy subject, huh?”
He sympathised but was still reeling a little to find she wasn’t Blackstone’s daughter. That was a turn up for the books.
“Not touchy, boring.” Her voice dropped. “He didn’t want us. End of story.” She stared moodily out at nothing but sea, and the sun glinted off her copper curls. “I wouldn’t have minded very much if Howard was my father. At least he was there.”
Quinn supposed he should feel guilty. Sleeping with Dani wasn’t a victory over the old man, after all. Regardless, it still felt damn good.
And then she smiled brilliantly, unfolded those glorious legs and came to stand close and rummage through the hamper. “Who taught you to sail?”
“My father.” Quinn spent many a Saturday morning on the water as a kid until his parents decided the boat was a luxury and the money would be better spent elsewhere.
“Was it very rough, growing up in a foster home?”
“Rough?” He smiled. “Sometimes. Bloody noisy. It was more or less open house. I doubt even Mum and Dad knew how many kids were under the roof at any one time.”
“You called them Mum and Dad?”
“They are my mum and dad,” Quinn said, bemused.
“Well, yes, but how long were you with them?” She looked confused.
Quinn scratched his head. “All my life. I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick. I wasn’t a foster kid. All the other kids were.”
Dani’s face cleared. “Oh, I see. So you and your parents ran a foster home?”
“Something like that,” Quinn agreed. “They have a big old villa in Newtown, off King Street. Lots of rooms, all in various states of disrepair, and a kitchen that’s the size of a hotel dining room.”
“Not at all what I imagined for you.”
She moved back to her seat, but her enticing floral scent lingered and he sniffed carefully, keeping it for himself. “What did you imagine?”
Dani grinned. “A grand old mansion with a butler. Everybody dressed for dinner and speaking very na-i-cely.” She gave an apologetic shrug. “Sorry but you’re just so damned refined.”
Quinn chuckled. “My parents would love that. They are the most unpretentious people I know. Old hippies, very socially aware. They don’t care about money or nice things, only sharing what they have with the less fortunate.” He paused. “I’m sure I embarrass them, successful capitalist that I am. Not that they don’t hit me up every couple of months with some harebrained fund-raising scheme or other.”
She crossed one shapely leg over the other, snagging his attention, holding it for seconds. What was this hold she had over him? She was younger than him by seven years, but that wasn’t the allure. He’d found her his equal in maturity and intelligence.
“You must have seen some sad things, though.”
“Kids are selfish.” He opened his bottle of water. “I was too busy marking my territory.”
“Is that how you broke your nose?”
Quinn gave her a resigned smile. “Yep. That was Jake Vance, actually.”
“Jake?” She sat up.
“You know him?” Something in him bristled. He’d be surprised if she didn’t know of Jake; he was one of the most talked-about entrepreneurs in Australia. But as he was his best friend and also quite the ladies’ man, Quinn wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of Jake and Dani being friendly.
“Not very well. I met him a couple of times. He was at Kim
