stared him in the eye. “You ever think how many kids would be abused if that paperwork wasn’t done properly?”
He winced. “Sorry. Yeah, there’s a point to it in this case. Besides, I’ve probably gone through most of it anyhow, to be a firefighter.”
A man who could admit he was wrong. I was liking my faux fiancé more and more. “I’m sorry for misjudging you. I’m not used to people being so impulsive.”
His face lightened and he stepped closer, into my personal space, so I could feel that energy he gave off. “I have good impulses. As a matter of fact, right now I’m having an impulse to take you inside and find a room with a door that locks and—” He reached for my waist.
I stepped backward. “Quinn!” There were kids around, not to mention colleagues. I wasn’t going to jeopardize my job for the sake of sex. Even spectacular sex with a man who was handsome, warmhearted, complex, and damned near irresistible.
“Relax, I’m teasing. I’m just saying, I can’t wait until we’re alone.”
“Nor can I.” I no longer had any second thoughts about enjoying another round in bed. The more I saw Quinn, the more I wanted him. He’d behaved perfectly today, saving his teasing for when we were alone. He had a generosity of spirit and an ability to get along with almost anyone. Even the dark side—the death of his brother and parents and his own fierce commitment to fighting fire—added to his appeal.
He made his dimple flash. “How much longer?”
“Can you be good for another hour?”
“Yeah, but I’m going to be even better when that hour is up.”
8
We walked down the quiet street toward my car, decorously hand in hand, but the sexual tension between us was like the electrical energy in the air during a thunderstorm: building, ready to explode. Quinn opened the driver’s door for me; then as I started to swing in, he yanked me roughly into his arms. “Crap, I can’t stand it any longer.”
We kissed with all the pent-up fervor of an afternoon of watching, touching, teasing. Our hands roamed greedily, tongues thrust with more passion than finesse, and both of us panted for breath. His erection rubbed demandingly against my belly, and my pussy tingled with moist heat.
“Damn it, Jade, I have to—”
“Way to go, man!” “Get a room!” The taunts came from a couple teenaged boys on bikes.
I jumped away from Quinn, cheeks burning, and slid into the car. “How embarrassing.”
Quinn climbed in beside me. “They’ll have wet dreams tonight.”
“Eeyew!”
He chuckled. “Girls don’t get it.”
“Thank God. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have a penis. Especially at their age, when it’s so uncontrollable.”
He grabbed my hand and placed it on his distended fly. “Mine’s not so controllable when I’m around you.” Then the humor left his face. “I want you, Jade.”
“I want you too. Let’s go to my place.”
“How about mine this time?” His eyes glinted as if he had a secret.
Curiosity made me agree. I headed back to Fairview Slopes where I’d picked him up, a condo-intensive area that lined the south shore of False Creek. It was late afternoon, not far past the longest day of the year, and the sun was high in the sky as my little convertible buzzed along. Lots of people were out, most in shorts. Even in summer, Vancouver’s weather was erratic, so when the sun blessed us, we made the most of the gift.
“Thanks for this afternoon, Quinn. You were wonderful.”
“Blue-collar guy didn’t totally embarrass you?”
Though his tone was teasing, not accusatory, I felt guilty. “I’m sorry. I was wrong about that. Wrong about a lot of things.”
“Got that right. But it’s okay. I don’t hold a grudge.”
“So, was this afternoon worse than the opera or salsa lessons with a foot-stomper?”
“Nope. Meeting Timothy was good. The other folks were mostly nice. Interesting. The only bad part was being with you.”
“What?” I glared at him.
“Wanting you, and not being able to have you. Drove me crazy.” He squeezed my thigh.
The heat in his voice gave me sexy shivers. “Me too.”
He pointed ahead. “Turn left at the next light.” We took a left, a right, another left, heading into the False Creek area and closer to the ocean. Did he own or rent? Would his place be tidy or a mess? Comfortable or a black leather “bachelor pad,” to use one of Mom’s old-fashioned expressions? I imagined all the possibilities.
Or at least, I thought I had. What I hadn’t imagined was walking toward the locked gate of a marina. I remembered Quinn saying he liked to sail. “You have a boat?” When he’d invited me to his place, he’d meant his sailboat, not his home. Foolishly, I felt a little hurt.
Holding my hand, he guided me down a steep nonskid ramp and along wooden fingers of dock. We passed sailboats and power boats of all description, some hardly more than ten feet long, others large enough to live on comfortably.
He paused beside one of the latter, an immaculate sailboat with gleaming white paint, glossy wood trim, and navy sail covers. Then I saw the name on the side: Padraig O’Malley. “Quinn! This is yours?” He’d named the boat after his brother.
“Used to belong to my gramps, the surgeon. I lived with him after the fire. He had a house in Kerrisdale and this boat. Patrick and I had done a lot of sailing with him, and Gramps and I decided to change the boat’s name so, you know…”
So in a sense Patrick would still be with them. I nodded.
“When Gramps hit seventy-five, he sold me the boat. He’s in his eighties now and we still go out sailing together regularly.”
I thought about the 15-year-old boy who’d lost his parents and brother going to live with his grandfather. An old man and a young man. It must’ve been a challenge for both of them. How wonderful that they were still close.
This was so strange. We’d come here because we were both lust driven, aching for sex. Yet, the drive, the walk along the docks, the thoughts of his family had changed my perspective. It wasn’t that I wanted him any less—God, maybe more—but it wasn’t so much that “take me” need as something…Less immediate? More complex?
“Come aboard.” With a flourish, Quinn offered me an arm and I stepped up to the deck.
He unlocked the wooden door to the cabin and I saw narrow ladderlike steps. When I started down, he said, “Go backward. Let me guess. You don’t spend much time on boats.”
“Only the BC ferries to Victoria or Nanaimo. I’ve never
