Perfect Pairing (14 page)

The entire group crowded around her, and the little flashbulb went off before she really had a chance to smile.

“Awesome,” the guy said, slapping her on the back. “You look fierce, all intense and shit.”

“Yeah, just like her food,” another added.

Hal smiled in spite of her reason for coming out here. These guys knew nothing about what had gone on behind the scenes of the popup. They only knew they'd been served a good meal in a cool venue from a chef who came across as all intense and shit.

“Can we get one too?” She turned to see the request had come from the women Quinn had brought into the kitchen. They were sitting at the end of a long row of tables, smashed up against a group of college-age hipsters, but the arrangement didn't seem to bother them as they thrust their camera toward a young woman. “Here, honey, press that button in the middle.”

This time Hal tried not to smile, but she thought her amusement might have shown through. Everywhere cameras clicked. People smiled and shook her hand. Conversations flowed happily, and food . . . the food tied everything together. Her chest filled with pride. It strained at her ribs like helium filled a balloon, lifting it as it went. The dishes she created and brought to life pulled them in, gave them a shared experience, provided something to connect over. Friends and strangers. She brought all these people to these tables. Well, she and Quinn.

Quinn.

Everything came back to her. Hal met her eyes—blue, searching, questioning.

“What is it?” Quinn finally asked.

Hal took a deep breath and steeled herself against a wave of disappointment second only to the first one she'd experienced this evening. Then she said, “Shut it down.”

Quinn locked the front door behind the last server. A table of students had lingered long after the last plate of food arrived, allowing them time to buss everything from the dining room except a few plates and cups. As soon as the customers finished, she'd paid the wait staff out of her earnings, making sure to give Joey Lang even more than planned after learning she was a recent graduate of the college that had sent them so much of their business. Quinn didn't find the connection coincidental.

Slowly, the few line cooks Sully had called in emerged from the kitchen, and she settled up with them as well, trying to do the math in her head. Their exit left only Sully, Hal, and Ian. Should she join them? Was she welcome? Probably not, but that didn't mean her presence wasn't expected at some point. She could pay Ian at home, but if nothing else she'd have to settle up with Sully, and likely face Hal.

She didn't want the night to end, and for all the wrong reasons. The money had been amazing. The publicity, too. If she wanted financial backers now, she'd have no trouble securing them, but for some reason, none of those factors did much more than float through the back of her mind. As she lingered in the empty dining room, her thoughts returned to the moments when laughter had filled this place. Glasses clinked, cameras clicked, the aroma of roasted pork mingled with the fragrance of fresh fruit, and in the middle of it all stood Hal Orion. She'd been glorious, and every bit as adept at working the crowd as she was at commanding the kitchen.

Quinn found her attractive. She didn't see any reason to deny it. The woman's dark, brooding good looks suited her, but her smile offered a brilliant contrast that went beyond sensual to something bigger, something deeper, something that made Quinn's breath catch almost painfully in her throat. She'd realized her desire for this woman went far beyond the reach of her business sense, but she'd yet to decide what that meant, much less what she wanted to do about it.

“Quinn?” Ian asked, suddenly standing very close. How had she not seen him come in? “You okay?”

“Yes, of course.” She forced a smile at her baby brother. He'd been so much more than a kid tonight. She'd have to tell him how much she appreciated the young man he'd become, sometime when Sully wasn't standing behind him. “Everything done in the kitchen?”

“Yeah, we're going to knock off for the night. Sully's giving me a ride home.”

“Thank you,” Quinn said, looking past him to her, “for everything.”

Sully shrugged.

So that's where they stood now. She supposed following the if-you-don't-have-something-nice-to say-don't-say-anything-at-all rule
was better than telling her where to go. Would Hal employ the same strategy? She hoped not.

“Let me get the cash box and pay you—”

“No.” Sully cut her off. “No money.”

“God, what's with you people and not getting paid?” Quinn's exasperation seeped into her tone. “When Ian and I worked the truck, you paid us. Why not let me settle my debts the same way?”

“Because your debt is bigger than that,” Sully snapped. “You need to pay it, Quinn, but not to me, and not like that.”

She opened her mouth to defend herself but no words would come. She had no defense, at least not one that mattered right now. Instead, she sighed. “Fine. Is she still in there?”

Sully nodded grimly.

“Okay. Have a good night.”

Ian couldn't get the front door open fast enough, but Sully hesitated. Quinn felt her dark eyes on her, scrutinizing, questioning, judging. Did she hate her? Did she feel betrayed? Tricked? Used?

“Say it, Sully,” she said without looking up. “Whatever you have to say to make it okay for yourself, just say it.”

“There's more to the story, for both of you. Maybe if you stop playing some character you wrote for yourself, she will too.”

Hal stood with both arms braced on the edge of the sink, shoulders tense, head hung low. The front of her chef's coat lay unbuttoned and open halfway down her chest, revealing a thin, white T-shirt. Her hair hung damp and tousled above her closed eyes. Quinn saw her as a prizefighter, victorious, but at great physical cost. Maybe emotional, too. She had the urge to go to her, to slip an arm around her waist, to bear some of the weight, to help her find rest, but could someone seek comfort in the person she held responsible for her turmoil? Was she even qualified to offer it?

“We're done, Quinn,” Hal said without lifting her eyes.

Her chest trembled. “Okay. Go home. I'll finish up here.”

“No,” Hal said. “I'm not talking about the pop-up. I mean everything.”

“Everything?”

“Everything. The lessons. The consulting. All of it. Me and you. It's over. I'm out.”

The tremble grew into an ache, hot and hard. “I understand.”

Hal's head snapped up, her eyes almost black with fury and pain. “You understand?”

“Yes.”

“No, you don't. You can't possibly understand. You can't even begin to understand, or you wouldn't have done this to me.”

“I should've been up front about what I needed from you tonight. You should have had more time, more control over the situation. I was wrong. I'm sorry.”

Hal shook her head. “More control? You see what I mean? You don't get it. There is no control.”

“I had things under control,” Quinn defended. She may have made a great many mistakes, but lack of control was not among them.

“Not of me, Quinn. Never of me. You may have thought you did. You may have thought you could trade me and my skills the way you trade in dollars and bonds, but I'm not some commodity to be bought and sold.”

Hal stepped close, dangerously close. Quinn could feel the anger radiate off her in waves of heat, and she fought the urge to step back, but at least she understood that impulse. Less easy to comprehend was the desire to step forward, to touch her, to soothe her, to quiet the emotions ripping her apart, or else be consumed by them.

“My name is not for sale,” Hal raged on, only inches between them now. “I am not for sale.”

“I understand.” Quinn's voice sounded strangled even to her own ears.

“Stop saying that. You don't understand. How could someone like you ever understand someone like me?” She balled her hands into fists, but not before Quinn saw them shake.

“What is it, Hal?”

She shook her head and clenched her jaw.

“Tell me. Help me understand.”

Hal's eyes grew wide, almost panicked.

“What don't I understand?”

“What it's like to . . . to . . . want.” Hal spun and faced the stove.

“To want what?”

“To want things that you can't have. To see other people, to see them have it all. To have everything so close, laid out right in front of you and know it's not yours. It'll never be yours. Not really. Not when someone else can take it away.”

“Hal.” She needed more. Nothing made sense. What was happening to the strong, capable woman who'd bent nature to her will and held a room full of people wrapped around her tiniest finger.

“Do you know how hard I've worked, Quinn?” Her laugh came out like a sob. “Never mind. Don't answer that. You don't know. You've never lain awake at night in a bed that wasn't really yours. You never stood in a kitchen watching people eat food knowing that it would still be there tomorrow but you might not be.”

Her breath came in short bursts, making her shoulders rise and fall rapidly. Whatever unknown force ripped at her was tearing at Quinn's chest now, too. A darkness she couldn't see out of seemed to surround them both. Had she done this to them, to her?

“Hal, I mean it. I can't undo what I did earlier, but I will do anything now. Just tell me what you want.”

“Want?” Hal shouted, then covered her face with her hands. “People like me can't want.”

People like her?
She put her hand on Hal's shoulder just wanting to connect, to soothe, but Hal spun. The force of the moment or maybe the force of the anguish in her eyes made Quinn stumble back, the low heel of one shoe slipping on the slick tile. She felt like she'd lost her emotional balance the moment Hal had walked through the door tonight, but now her physical equilibrium failed her too. Falling, she reached out, grabbing fruitlessly as she went.

Then suddenly Hal's hand clasped her elbow, tightly, roughly, hauling her up and toward her. They stared at each other, eyes wide, breath shared, hot and heavy. She watched, mesmerized, as Hal's pupils expanded.

Then suddenly she broke free. Releasing her grip, Hal moved back abruptly. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you.”

“No.” Quinn took hold of the lapels of her jacket, refusing to let her pull away again. “I'm not afraid.”

Hal looked away and closed her eyes, but Quinn refused to release her. Instead she shook her, pulling her back in. “Look at me.”

Hal slowly lifted her chin and allowed her dark eyes to flutter open.

“Look in my eyes Hal. I am not afraid.”

“I am.” Her voice shook. Her whole body shook.

“Of wanting?”

Hal nodded.

“Don't be.”

“You don't understand.”

“Show me.”

“Quinn.” The word rushed out, a whisper, a plea.

“I mean it, Hal.” Her voice was low, an audible mirror to Hal's supplication. “Show me.”

Hal tried to pull away one last time, but this time Quinn followed her with her mouth. Lunging, she connected their lips in a crush of heat and need. Clutching the front of her chef's coat, she held them tighter together, as her mouth delivered the meaning their words had been unable to convey.

Chapter Nine

Something broke inside Hal. She felt it shatter her defenses before they crumbled to dust inside her. The flood of emotions they'd held back rushed forward in a blind deluge. There was no more reason, only instinct.

She pressed, fierce and hard against Quinn's mouth, meeting her pursuit and turning the tables on it. Wrapping her arm around Quinn's back, she pinned their bodies together. Her mouth opened, her tongue pressing, prepared to force entry into Quinn's, but she parted willingly, hungrily to her. She used her own tongue to stroke Hal's, pulling her in, sucking, biting her lip as she stole sharp breaths. Hal couldn't get enough. Even with everything open to her, she wanted more.

Want.

The burning ember flared into a roaring flame, but this time it could and would be quenched. With one arm still firmly across the small of Quinn's back, she moved the other up, sinking her hand into the underside of her tidy braid. Working her fingers into the soft locks, she dug, fisted, and released. Flicking her thumb across the barrette fastening the whole thing together, she sprung it free. God, she wanted to undo this woman the way Quinn had shattered her. She wanted her free, open, unraveled.

The kiss continued, bruisingly intense as they pushed and pulled at one another. Quinn nipped at her lip, and Hal relished the fleeting spark of pain. She wanted to ravish and be ravished. Bringing both hands forward, she slipped them under the lapels of Quinn's navy blazer, palms sliding up over her breasts on the way to her shoulders, before pushing it roughly off. Quinn arched into her touch and
shrugged the jacket to the floor. Then reaching back to Hal's chef coat, she clutched the material and yanked their bodies back together. Mouth to mouth, breasts to breasts, their legs intertwined as they rocked against each other. Quinn popped open the last two buttons on Hal's coat, and mumbled “Off,” between hot, wet kisses.

That was one command Hal would gladly heed. She rolled her shoulders, and the starched material slipped to the floor. She grabbed at Quinn's back, massaging the tense muscles beneath her shirt. God, she was coiled so tight. Hal ran her mouth over her lips, across her cheek and up her jawline. She gave her ear a quick nip, her heart jumping inside her chest as Quinn gasped, but she didn't linger. Sucking hard along the sensitive skin of her neck, she once again curled her fingers into the remnants of her braid. She twisted and groaned, aching to have their entire bodies tangled like those golden strands.

“I want you,” she said into the spot where neck met shoulder.

“Don't stop,” Quinn panted.

“I want all of you.”

“Show me, Hal.”

She cupped her ass and harshly lifted her onto the prep table, then, settling her body between Quinn's knees, resumed kissing her.

Quinn kicked her shoes to the floor with a clatter and wrapped her deliciously smooth legs around Hal. The pressure of Hal's torso caused the hem of her skirt to ride up her thighs, and Hal's hands found the newly exposed planes. Rubbing her palms roughly over smooth skin, she kneaded the flesh, her thumb inching up under the taut fabric of her skirt. She marveled at the contrast of her tan complexion against pure alabaster. They couldn't be more different, and yet here they were, both throbbing with the same desire. In this moment they were the same, boiled down to their basest instincts. Hal reveled in the even playing field. She wanted to leave her fingerprints there, to mark her, to press her imprint on this perfection.

Quinn balled the scruff of Hal's undershirt in her fist, twisting and pulling the thin fabric, while her other hand snaked up underneath it. She dragged her nails sharply across Hal's abs, scratching a hot trail as she went. “More.”

“More what?” Hal asked, her voice thick with desire.

“More you.”

Hal smiled, pulling Quinn's ass right to the edge of the table, bunching her skirt as she went until the heat of her need pressed firm and flush against the front of her pants.

Quinn threw her head back, and Hal seized her neck again as their bodies writhed against one another. This woman. Lord, how she moved. Her body reminded Hal of an archer's bow with all her taut, lithe muscle strung tight against her smooth graceful curves. She wanted to hold that curve and pull the string. She wanted to feel her hum and shudder beneath her. She wanted to hear her own name fall from those beautiful lips as she released her.

And tonight, for better or worse, was all about want.

She yanked the tail of Quinn's perfectly white dress shirt from the waist of her skirt and splayed her hand across her stomach. The heat burned there, too. It burned everywhere. Quinn fumbled with the buttons from the top while Hal worked up from the bottom until they met, frantic and bare, in the middle.

Sliding her hands down Quinn's sides to the gentle indent of her waist, Hal held her steady while she ran her mouth along the top of her ivory bra. Teasing only a moment, she felt the press of her nipples straining against the thin fabric, and she bit at them right through the cup.

Quinn arched, pressing into her mouth. The want lanced through her again, strengthened by the evidence of Quinn's need. She wasn't alone here. She wasn't dancing solitary in this fire. If the need consumed her, it would consume them both, and right now she was secure in the knowledge that neither of them cared.

“Hal,” Quinn gasped.

“What?”

“Please.”

Oh, what a sexy word that was. “Say it again.”

“Please, Hal. Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please touch me.”

“I am touching you.” She rocked her hips forward and squeezed her fingers, digging the tips into the soft flesh of her sides.

Quinn whimpered.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want.” Her head rolled back again. “God, Hal, I want.”

“You wanted me to show you,” Hal said. “You wanted to understand.”

“I do,” Quinn panted. “I need it. I need you, Hal.”

Hal stared at her. Quinn teetered on the edge of the table, her body held fast only by the weight of Hal's. Her skirt pooled around her waist and her shirt crumpled and splayed, but her face told the story. Open, vulnerable, lips swollen, bruised, and eyes blurred with the need she'd begged to have satisfied. Good. Now maybe she felt what had clawed at Hal all night. Now perhaps she understood how
want
of that magnitude could break a person's will and leave her helpless, how it could consume her in a way that made a person crave it even as it suffocated her.

She should've made her wait.

She should've left her there in a puddle of her own desire.

But leaving her frustrated would prove a point she no longer wanted to make. She may not be able to satisfy every longing Quinn had inspired in her tonight, but she could have this one. Quinn's body lay breathlessly at her fingertips. Something beautiful, something powerful, something all consuming—and hers for the taking.

Reaching between the thighs her body held open, she took hold of Quinn's underwear and eased them back. She smiled, unsurprised to see the French bikinis she revealed were a perfectly matched set with her bra. Of course, she would never leave any detail uncoordinated. Then again, her superior planning abilities only heightened Hal's enjoyment of what she was going to do next.

Slipping her hand inside the waistband she grazed her knuckle against Quinn's slick folds and felt her jerk under the touch. She was so close, but Hal wanted so much more.

Connecting their mouths again, she worked her back into a frenzy. Quinn rocked forward, but Hal used the width of her body to control the level of contact she craved most. She skimmed one finger across
Quinn's clit, then down, gently, slowly opening her, teasing her, toying around the final edge of her desire.

“Now, please.”

“What do you want, Quinn?”

“You know what I want.” She lolled her head forward until it rested on Hal's shoulder. “You know what I need.”

The words sent another jolt of arousal straight down from her chest. She did know. She got high off the knowledge that Quinn knew, too, but it wasn't enough. “Tell me, Quinn.”

“Please.”

“Anything you want. I'll give it to you,” she said, then leaning in right next to her ear and dropping her voice to a whisper, “anything you want bad enough to beg for.”

Quinn's breath hissed through clenched teeth as the last strand of restraint snapped. “Please, fuck me.”

Need and triumph exploded through her, shaking every muscle and rattling along every bone. She returned her left arm to the small of Quinn's back, holding them both upright as she moved her free hand the fraction of an inch they both needed. Then pulling her entire body forward, she pushed inside.

They both groaned, bodies arching toward one another as they rocked. Hal's hips thrust on top of her own hand, trapping it hard and fast both inside and out. Her fingers curled and her palm circled as they ground against each other. Sweat and heat mingled, raw, almost feral in their thrusts. Quinn's nails scratched against her back and dug into her scalp, urging her closer. Deeper. Hal could barely move, but she didn't care. Quinn, hot, wet, and tight around her, was everything she craved.

“Don't stop.”

They were so far past the point of stopping she didn't even respond.

Quinn rode her, spurring her on, until, with a cry of release, she contracted and froze, all of her completely still as the first wave of release struck hard. Hal continued to rock, never breaking her rhythm as she drove Quinn home. The shakes came next, heavy convulsing, and Hal held her tightly, her body absorbing as much of the shock as
their position allowed, but she wouldn't relent. Still stroking and circling, she coaxed more from Quinn. Aftershocks and tremors rattled their joined bodies, even after the only thing holding Quinn's limp torso upright was Hal's arm around her back.

“Hal.” She begged, pushing weakly against her chest. “I can't. You've wrecked me.”

“You can't?” She smiled against the skin of her neck, tasting the salt of their exertion. “What happened to all that want you were talking about?”

“It's still there,” Quinn said, her voice stronger as she regained her breath, though it had lost none of its sultry edge. “Now, I just want something else.”

God, Hal looked smug, standing there all dark and handsome with her hair a rakish mess and her clothes disheveled. Never one to concede the upper hand, Quinn would normally worry about confidence like that, but it was much too late to indulge her better judgment. She'd told Hal she'd have to work harder to see her moves, and tonight she'd more than earned that right.

Now it was her turn.

Surging forward once more, she caught Hal's lips with her own. Giving her no chance to catch her breath, she poured gasoline on the embers still glowing between them, and the fire once again roared to life. She couldn't get enough of her mouth, sweet and hot against her own. She drank from it, tasting every corner, licking along the edges, and cupping Hal's face in her hands so she could run her tongue along her lips. She wanted that kind of link between every part of their bodies.

Breaking the kiss long enough to yank Hal's sweat-soaked T-shirt over her head, Quinn surveyed the masterpiece before her. Hal's breasts were small and firm above the faint ridges of her ribs and subtle indent of her abs. Every inch of her was tan and glistening under the fluorescent lights. Hooking a finger into the waistband of Hal's dark jeans, she tugged her close, back between her own splayed
knees. When their mouths met again, she didn't linger there long. She marked an erratic path across her shoulders and along her collarbone, enjoying each spot as little or as long as the urge sustained her before jumping randomly to another. She went wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted.

Want.

That's what Hal had raged about, and now she understood. She'd felt the singe of it against her skin, smelled the smoke on every heightened breath, and suffocated under its heavy weight. It consumed her, and she would use it to consume every inch of Hal that caught her attention. She pressed her fingers against her ribcage, bit the hard knot of muscle atop her shoulder, and flicked her tongue across a taut nipple. Still the flame raced higher. The erotic version of a hop, skip, and jump amused her but didn't ultimately offer the contact she craved.

She leaned back ever so slightly, urging Hal to follow her, beckoning her forward with her mouth, her fingers, her legs.

Hal braced herself with her palms against the stainless steel table-top, but Quinn had no intention of letting her stop there. Angling her head up, she met those dark, intense eyes and said, “Follow me, Fryboi.”

Scooting back across the table, she used her hold on Hal's waistband to guide her. Hal crawled up and over her, straddling her waist and smiling down like a big cat who'd finally overcome her prey. Then sinking her fingers once more into Quinn's hair, she cradled the back of her head all the way down to the table.