The Good Girl's Second Chance (The Bravos Of Justice Creek 2) (6 page)

* * *

Friday evening, Quinn arrived five minutes early. “Better grab a scarf,” he warned.

She ran and got one, then followed him out across the breezeway and around the garage to the side parking space, where a gorgeous old convertible Buick coupe waited—top down, of course. With sidewalls so white they were blinding even in the shade.

“Wow.” She couldn’t resist gliding her palm over the glossy maroon paint. “It looks brand-new.” The bright chrome gleamed in the fading early-evening light. It had round vents on the front fenders and an enormous, toothy grille.

“It’s one of Carter’s rebuilds. A ’49 Buick Roadmaster.” Carter, Quinn’s oldest brother, designed and built custom cars. “I saw it at his shop a couple of weeks ago. Don’t know what came over me, but I wanted it. So I bought it.” He opened the door for her. She slid in onto the snow-white, tuck-and-roll bench seat. “Had him put seat belts in it, along with a decent sound system and power windows.” He was leaning on the open door, bending close to her, his gray suit jacket already off and slung over his shoulder, hanging by a finger.

She got a hint of his aftershave, which was manly and fresh. He looked so good, in a white shirt and gray slacks, with a dark blue tie. She thought about kissing him, and turned away to run her hand over the leather seat in an effort to distract herself from a sudden, vivid memory of how pliant and hot his lips felt pressed to hers. “It’s gorgeous,” she said, altogether too breathlessly.

“Yeah.” The single word seemed to dance along her nerve endings. She looked back up at him, and he grinned at her. And she just knew that
he
knew what she’d been thinking. “You look beautiful,” he said, his gaze taking in her little black dress and her double strand of pearls that her dad had given her when she graduated from high school. “So smooth.”

“Um, what?”

“You, Chloe. You’re smooth.”

“That’s good, I hope?”

“That is excellent. Buckle up now.” He shut the door as she tied her scarf over her hair.

He took her to the Sylvan Inn, which was a few miles southeast of town nestled in among the pines. The inn had a quiet atmosphere and great food.

“We used to come here when I was little,” she said, once they were settled with their tall goblets of ice water, hot bread and giant menus in the traditional Sylvan Inn blue leather cover with the fancy gold lettering on the front. “For special occasions. My dad loves their hammer steaks. So do I, as a matter of fact.”

“Good memories, then?”

“Very good.” She glanced up at him—and spotted a familiar face across the dining room. Chloe smiled. The tall, thin blonde smiled right back. She gave Chloe a jaunty wave and disappeared behind a potted plant.

“What’s up?” Quinn asked.

Chloe brushed a hand over the crisp white cuff of Quinn’s shirt. “Don’t look now, but we’ve been spotted by Monique Hightower. Did you know she works here?” They’d gone to school with Monique. The woman never met a secret she wouldn’t share with the whole town.

“Uh-oh.” He pretended to look worried. “Like I said the other night, it’s Justice Creek. You go out with me, everyone in town is bound to know.”

Now she brushed the back of his hand, which was warm and tan and dusted lightly with brown hair. It felt so good to touch him. She had to watch herself or she’d be all over the poor guy. “I hope you don’t mind that the gossip mill will be churning.”

“Me?” He gave a low chuckle. “I think I can deal with it.”

“Such a brave man...”

They shared one of those looks. Long. Intimate. Wonderful. Finally, he said, “Read your menu, Chloe.”

She closed the blue folder. “I did.”

“You know what you want?”

“Oh, yes, I do.” She said it slowly, with a lazy smile.

He warned low, “Keep looking at me like that and we won’t make it through the appetizer.”

But they did. They had it all. Appetizers, a nice bottle of cabernet, salad, hammer steaks with cheesy potatoes and a decadent chocolate dessert. And they took their sweet time about it.

Monique dropped by their table around nine, just after they’d been served their coffee and dessert. “Chloe. Quinn. What a surprise.”

Quinn asked, “So, how’s life treating you, Monique?”

“I’m getting by.” Monique tossed her topknot of curly blond hair and stuck her hands in the pockets of her black service apron. “When did you two start spending time together?”

Chloe sipped her coffee. “This is our first date. I’m having a fabulous time.”

Quinn said, “Chloe always had a thing for me, since way back in high school.”

Monique blinked three times in rapid succession. “Really?”

Chloe stifled a silly giggle and said with great seriousness. “I finally got up the nerve to tell him.”
And to show him, as a matter of fact
. “And then he asked me out. The rest could be history. I mean, if I play my cards right.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “But, Monique...”

Monique leaned a little closer. “What?”

“Don’t say a word to anyone.”

“Oh. Never. I would never tell a soul...” Translation: she couldn’t wait to tell the world. Monique asked about Prime Sports, and Quinn gave her a card good for a free visit and one class of her choice. And then she turned to Chloe again, her dark eyes sharply gleaming. “I was so surprised when you moved back to town. I mean, we all knew you were headed for great things. No one ever would have guessed you’d end up running back home to Justice Creek. I’m just so
sorry
that things didn’t work out for you.”

Six months ago, Chloe would have been shamed and infuriated by Monique’s barbed words and pretended concern. Or at the very least, embarrassed. At the moment, though, all she felt was amused. “Thanks, Monique. You’re all heart.”

Monique sighed heavily. Across the room, the manager who’d greeted them when they arrived had his eye on her. “Well, good to see you two. Gotta go.” She scuttled off.

Chloe took a bite of her delicious dessert. “Everything we told her will be all over town. Twenty-four hours—thirty-six, max.”

Quinn leaned closer and spoke low. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that you had a thing for me in high school.”

She met his eyes directly and she couldn’t keep from grinning. “Are you kidding? I loved it. Not to mention it was the truth. If Monique Hightower’s going to be spreading rumors about us, they might as well be true.”

* * *

After their slow, wonderful meal, they returned to Chloe’s house.

Quinn eased the gorgeous old car into the space beside the garage and turned off the engine. “Are you up for a walk around the block?”

“Sure.” It was a nice night. “A walk would be great. We’ll work off some of that amazing dessert.”

He followed her inside and waited while she changed into flats. Then off they went, down the front steps and out to the street, where they strolled beneath the silver crescent of the moon.

Their development, Haltersham Heights, had no sidewalks. The houses were set back from the street, among the trees. Quinn stopped at a lot three doors down and across the street from Chloe’s. It had a For Sale sign at the curb with a big SOLD plate stuck on it. The large contemporary log and natural stone house could be seen, windows gleaming, through the trees.

“The sold sign went up a few weeks ago,” she said. “About time. This one’s been on the market for months.”

“I know. I bought it. Got a great price, too.”

She laughed—and then she realized he wasn’t kidding. “Wait a minute. You’re serious?”

“I am.” He put his hand over her fingers, where they curled around his arm. She’d barely had time to enjoy the flare of pleasure at how good his touch felt, when he said, “I bought it before I knew you would be fixing up my house. But it should work out great. We’re closing on this one Monday, so we can move in here next week. We’ll stay here while you renovate the other one—and not to get ahead of myself or anything, but once we move back to our house, you can start on this one. It’s the same story as the other one. Solid construction, but it’s begging to be brought into the twenty-first century. When you’re finished, I’ll sell it.”

She only stared.

“Chloe, your mouth’s hanging open.”

“And why wouldn’t it be? You’re too much.”

“Too much of what, exactly?”

“Well, let’s see. Quinn Bravo, world-champion cage fighter, fitness empire builder, real estate mogul...”

“That all sounds pretty good to me.”

“You must have made a fortune as a fighter, huh?”

“I did all right. The payout for winning a championship fight is a hefty one. And I landed some big-time endorsements, too.”

“I think I’m speechless, Quinn.”

He gave her his high school bad-boy smirk. “You’ll get over it. And the truth is, Prime Sports will never make much money unless my franchise plan pays off. The housing market’s rebounding nicely, though. I
can
make money in real estate.”

She admitted softly, “Start-ups aren’t easy, and I say that from experience. If you hire me for both of your houses, it will make a big difference for me. I really do need the business.”

“So you’ve got it. Everybody wins.”

She made a low, disbelieving sound. “As simple as that?”

His eyebrows drew together. “Why not?”

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you just because you, um, like me...”

He framed her face in his big, calloused hands. “Look at me.”

“Oh, I am.” She stared straight up into those soft aquamarine eyes and never wanted to look away. “I really am.”

“Are you telling me you can’t do the job?”

She stiffened and answered with heat, “Of course I can do the job.”

He chuckled then. “See? We got no problem here.”

Standing there in the darkness of her quiet street with his warm, rough hands cradling her cheeks, she decided he was right. “No, I guess we don’t.”

He lowered his head, until his sexy, plump lips were a hairbreadth from hers. He had lips like a girl’s, but the rest of him was all man. “I got a request, though.”

She longed for his kiss. Her heart was beating slow and deep. Sparks flared across her skin. And low in her belly, she seemed to be melting. “Oh, God. Anything.”

“Work with my brother’s company, Bravo Construction?”

She made herself focus on what he’d just asked of her—and it wasn’t easy, with those lips of his so close.

Use his brother’s company...

She’d left that possibility open-ended when she talked to Manny. But really, why not? Bravo Construction had a great reputation. She felt confident she could develop a solid working relationship with them. It could be good for everyone. “All right.”

His warm breath touched her lips. The guy was driving her crazy. “I already talked to my sister Nell—just paving the way. Nell says she’ll fit the project in the schedule and they can start work a week from Monday.”

“That’s quick.”

“Yeah. And I like to keep it in the family if I can.”

“I get that.” She tried really hard not to sound as breathless as she felt. “No problem. Bravo Construction it is.”

“Good, then.”

“Quinn...”

“Hmm?” A teasing light shone in his eyes. She realized he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

And
she
knew that she couldn’t take it anymore. She only had to lift herself up a fraction higher to get what she wanted. So she did. And it worked.

At last, he was kissing her.

* * *

“Chloe...” Quinn whispered her name right into her pretty mouth.

And then he let go of her arms—in order to pull her up nice and close. She tasted so good. Hot and wet.

And all of her, every graceful, sweetly scented inch of her, was so, so smooth.

Worth the endless, twelve-day wait since the last time he’d had his mouth on hers.

He lifted his head an inch. She let out a tiny moan, as though she couldn’t bear not to have their mouths fused together. He slanted his head the other way and drank that moan right off her sweet, sweet lips.

Those slender arms glided up his chest and then her soft hands were stroking his collar, caressing his neck, her slim fingers threading up into the close-trimmed hair at the nape of his neck. He scraped his tongue along the smooth edges of her teeth, pushing deeper, into all that wet sweetness.

Coffee. Wine. Chocolate.

Chloe.

There had been women in his life, maybe too many. Especially when he was first making his name in the Octagon. Women liked fighters. And they particularly liked fighters who won. For a while there he’d gotten carried away with all the attention. Beautiful women everywhere he turned, his for the taking.

But even an endless chain of gorgeous women got old after a while. He started to see that to most of them, he was just a cheap thrill. And he wanted to be more than that to someone.

He found he wanted heart in a woman. He wanted someone he could talk to. He wanted real, gut-deep integrity. He wanted truth. He wanted a powerful connection.

Oh, and yeah. Brains and a sense of humor, too.

It wasn’t that there weren’t women out there with all that. It was just that most of them had no interest in a guy who still couldn’t read past about fourth-grade level, a guy who got bloodied and battered for a living. Plus, when he was fighting, it ate up his life. He didn’t have time to go looking for the one for him.

And then along came Annabelle. Her life, her happiness, her chance to grow up and take on the world—suddenly that was what mattered to him. To raise his little girl up right was more than enough. He didn’t need that special woman, after all.

Or so he’d believed until twelve nights ago.

Until Chloe led him into her house and straight to her bed.

Chloe.

She had it all—everything he’d already accepted he wasn’t going to find. And no one had ever tasted so good.

Reluctantly, he broke the kiss.

She stared up at him, eyes full of stars. “Come back to my house? Be with me tonight?”

“Damn, Chloe. I was afraid you’d never ask.”

* * *

Her belly all aflutter with anticipation, her pulse a rushing sound in her ears and her cheeks feeling way hotter than they should, Chloe ushered Quinn in her front door and then turned to engage the lock and reset the alarm. “You can hang your jacket there.” She gestured at the coatrack. He hung up his jacket, and she grabbed his hand. “This way...”