his effect on her, though. She’d been around goodlooking, macho men her entire career, from firefighters to cops. None of them had made her crazy.
Maybe it couldn’t be explained, she thought suddenly. Maybe it was simply magic. She looked at him a moment longer, then rolled to her back and sighed in frustration. Why did it matter what she called it? He had it and she fell for it. Every time.
Otherwise, she would have left him long ago.
The bed moved and she felt his gaze on her profile. He was a light sleeper—they both were, a habit born from years of dangerous work.
“What are you thinking about?” He reached out for a strand of her hair and twisted it around his finger. His question was rhetorical because he could read her mind as well as her body.
Her eyes met his and she felt their intensity all the way down to the bottom of her feet. “You.”
He grinned lazily and another zing shot through her. Using the tip of the curl he’d made, he brushed the ends of her hair over the tops of her breasts. “That’s good,” he said. “I like it when you think about me.”
“You do?” She turned to face him, their lips now inches apart. “Why is that?”
“It makes me think you love me.”
“You know I love you.”
“That’s true, but a little reinforcement goes a long way. Everyone likes to know they’re on the right track.”
She feathered her fingers over his stubbled jaw. The words she wanted to say would spoil this moment between them, but Hannah couldn’t stop herself.
“You’re right,” she agreed slowly. “Everyone likes to know that, including me.”
Their eyes locked and his gaze hardened, his voice becoming deceptively soft as he warned her. “We’ve had a really great day, Hannah. Don’t do this…”
She shook her head, her hair whispering against the pillows. “I have to, Quinn. It’s too important to me—to us—not to talk about it.”
He sat up and swung his feet to the floor. “But it’s all we talk about.” The muscles in his back tensed and rippled tightly. He stayed silent for a moment, then he twisted around to look at her. His jaw was a single line of anger, his lips pursed tightly. “How many times do we have to go over this, Hannah? It just isn’t possible right now….”
In the quiet that followed, she could hear the excited cries of the kids down the street. There was an empty lot on the corner, and the evening stillness often rang with the noise the neighborhood children raised as they played tag and red rover and whatever else they could dream up. Hannah loved to listen to them, but right now, the sound was almost painful.
“It isn’t possible only because of you. I won’t see thirty-two again and time is passing. I want a family. I want a husband. I want—”
He stood abruptly and stalked to the window. “I know what you want, Hannah. Believe me, I know.”
With a catch in her throat, Hannah sat up and pulled the sheet around her. Because her own childhood had been just the opposite, she’d always wanted a houseful of children and a special place to call home. Her father’s job had demanded constant travel. He’d never been home. Her mother, Barbara, had finally divorced him, saying he was never there, anyway, so why should they stay together?
The answer had become quickly apparent. Without his income, Barbara had had to return to work to support the two of them. They’d sold the home where Hannah had grown up and moved into an apartment on the other side of town. Hannah and her mother became even closer in their adversity—and were still—but with no siblings and none of her friends nearby, Hannah had ended up spending more time than ever alone and she’d been miserable and lonely.
To compensate, she’d made up another family for herself, complete with a set of twins and three other brothers, a mother who stayed home and baked cookies and a father who went to work at eight and came home at five. It’d been a fantasy, but it’d sustained her for a long time, even leading her, she was now convinced, to her earlier career as a firefighter. Living in the firehouse with all the other firefighters had made her feel like part of a huge family and she’d loved it. Until she’d heard about EXIT. Nothing less than the excitement that assignment had promised could have taken her away from her substitute brothers.
She took a deep breath and continued the running argument. “Then if you know what I want, when are we going to do something about it?”
“People who have children have to be responsible for them.” He faced her. “As long as we do what we do, I’m not going to bring a child into this world. It’s too risky.”
Grabbing the sheet, Hannah rose to her knees and shook her head. “I disagree! And even if that was true, I’ve told you—”
“I know what you’ve told me—you’d quit. But a kid needs two parents, a mother and a father—”
“I’m well aware of what—”
“No, you aren’t aware of anything or you wouldn’t be asking for the kind of commitment you are. It’s not fair. To me or to the poor kid we’d leave behind if one of us got blown to hell and back!”
This certainly wasn’t the first time she’d heard Quinn say something so harsh, but for some reason, the words cut deeper than usual. Hannah stayed where she was a second longer, then she got out of the bed. Her legs were shaking with anger, but she remained silent. If she spoke right now, she’d say something she’d regret later.
Quinn crossed the room, reaching for her. Knowing it was pointless, but trying anyway, she ducked his embrace. He took another step and captured her, his hands on her bare shoulders, his eyes cajoling as he stared down at her.
“You know I’m telling you the truth.” He moved his fingers as he spoke, his thumb rubbing her collarbone, his other fingers massaging her shoulders. Hannah fought to ignore the sensation he was creating.
“I know you’re telling me what you think is the truth,” she said. “But you’re wrong, Quinn. Very, very wrong. Our jobs are only dangerous if someone screws up.”
“Which does happen.”
“But not often.”
“It only takes once.”
“Then we’ll both quit.”
A tense moment passed, then he bent his head and kissed her, the feel of his mouth blanking out everything else. She swayed in his embrace, but he held her tight. When the kiss was over, he raised his head and looked at her, his breath soft on her cheeks. “I’m not going to quit. And neither are you.”
“But—”
“That’s not the answer to this problem. You’d resent the sacrifice every day for the rest of your life. You’d end up hating yourself…and me.”
She tried to think of a counter to his logic, but thinking was impossible with his body pressed to hers and his hands stroking her back.
“You have to be responsible for the children you bring into this world, Hannah.
