Page 55 of Quinn, By Design

“Anna.” He draped his arm across her shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

She turned into his arms, her penetrating look skewering him. “Rescuing you. If that’s what you want?”

“I love you, Anna Turner.” He made himself smile. “But you’re about a decade too late.”

“You’re cancelling the exhibition, aren’t you?” She gripped the lapels of his only decent jacket, disappointment clear in her downturned mouth, her frustration a fraction of his own.

“Postponing, due to circumstances beyond my control.” He mocked himself. When she opened her mouth to argue, he pressed two fingers to her lips. “Not here. Not tonight. And I still don’t know how you found your way here.”

“Lucy invited Hunter. Neither of us is sure why.” She rested her hand against his cheek, and he accepted her sisterly comfort. “Hunter’s intrigued, so here we are.”

“Maybe we should look for them.” He turned her to face the room. Lucy’s interest in the successful property developer was another unwelcome guest at the feast.

“They’re consenting adults,” she responded with a tart snap.

“I’m not worried about Lucy and Hunter.”Or not much. Hunter represented the world Lucy rightly inhabited, and she’d been slumming it with Niall. He scanned the room and couldn’t see either. “I always forget you refuse to be jealous.”

“If I spent my time worrying about what Hunter was doing when I wasn’t with him, and vice versa, it wouldn’t say much about trust.” Her reply was a rapier sharp reminder he was keeping secrets from Lucy.

“The show is wrapping up. I don’t have the stomach for any more introductions,” he growled.

“Do you remember why you agreed to appear in my billboard campaign?” she asked with deceptive sweetness.

“You asked me.”

“I did. And the other reason?” She steered him toward a large sideboard. They were just another couple admiring the merchandise. Except there was purpose in Anna’s abrupt change of topic. Experience had taught him to surrender to the inevitable when she started an interrogation.

“Liam had lost himself in work, trying to pay off Da’s debts. He didn’t tell me about them, wouldn’t talk to me at all. I thought he’d lost himself, full stop. Was afraid money was all that mattered to him.” Niall had been helpless to bridge the rift. “I wanted to do something to shock him into noticing me.”

“He was unhappy. You’re unhappy now and just as stubborn as he was. By the way, we’re heading for that delicate little hall table near the redhead.” Anna would skewer him if he stepped away from her side. “It’s okay to accept help.”

“I accept help,” he muttered, uncomfortable with her assessment.

“Tell that to someone who doesn’t know you as well as I do. You and Liam both tend to manage disasters by yourself. You get it from your father, I suspect.”

“You never met him.” He glared at the unknown redhead. She startled and scurried away.

“I didn’t have to meet him to know he was a white knight sort of fellow. Fighting valiantly for just causes, coming to the rescue of a damsel in distress. Us damsels are more inclined to rescue ourselves these days.” She stopped and turned to him. “We want to share, not be sheltered. You wanted to share Liam’s load. Andyouwere not a happy camper being left out.” She was brutally loving. “Now, you need to go after that redhead and play nice. Tell her I stabbed you with a pin or something.”

The situations weren’t the same. Cam, not Lucy, had created the debt. He dredged up a smile. “Introduce myself, you mean?”

“You don’t need a stomach for introductions. You need a backbone and a little charm. Practise for when you do finally get your exhibition.” She sauntered away.

“On my current trajectory, it’ll be posthumous.” He was talking to himself.

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Irritation was an itchbetween his shoulder blades. Even the elegance of Lucy’s bedroom mocked him tonight. Having sex in a queen bed on high thread-count sheets, nestled in a goose feather eiderdown would heighten anyone’s pleasure. For weeks, he’d slid over her, she’d slipped under him, hairy bare skin had brushed silky bare skin while rolling across luxurious bedlinen, each texture a delicious torment. All he could offer was a double bed, cotton percale and a hand-me-down quilt. Their bedding spelt out the contrast in their lifestyles. Lucy’s cash flow problems were temporary; McTavish assets would always buy more than basic comfort.

“Why did you ask Peter to offer me work?”

“Because you cancelled the frames you were making for the florist.” She turned her back, lifting her hair off her neck. “Can you undo my zipper, please?”

Her scent was sweeter at the nape, more vanilla than rose. He leaned into her smell and couldn’t resist brushing his lips across the exposed skin to taste her. With her scent enveloping him, and his mouth on her body, he wished life was as simple as her answer. He guided the zipper down her spine before anchoring his hands at her waist. “Can you check with me next time?”

She spun to face him, her eyes concerned. “Did I do the wrong thing?”

Yes, he wanted to shout, but the word wouldn’t come. “Just check. Please.”

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