All It Takes (Romancing Manhattan 2)

“You’re driving the right car then,” I reply and run my hand over the leather. It’s like butter. “I admit, it’s beautiful.”

“She’s fucking amazing,” he says with a smile and pulls away from the curb. I give him directions to Uncle Patrick’s house and smile the whole way there.

Yes, he drives too fast, but it’s thrilling. I’d never have the guts to do it.

“Here we are,” I say when he pulls into the driveway. Before I can suggest that I’ll go by myself, he unbuckles his seat belt, jumps out of the car, and opens my door. “This isn’t a date.”

“So?”

“So you don’t need to open doors for me.”

“Are you one of those women who’s offended when a man opens a door for her?”

“No, of course not. I’m just reminding you that we’re not dating.”

“Sienna, I’m a gentleman, whether on a date or opening a door for a stranger at the courthouse. It doesn’t mean any more than that.”

“Well, okay then.” I smooth my jacket and walk ahead of him, up the steps to Uncle Patrick’s front door. He answers, and smiles at us, surprised to see Quinn.

I make the introductions, and Uncle Patrick passes the box of paperwork to Quinn.

“Here you go. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Me too,” I reply.

“Just call if you need anything.”

He shuts the door, not inviting us inside, which seems a little out of character, but I brush it off. Quinn is a stranger, and we have work to do.

Once inside Quinn’s sexy car, we don’t have far to go to get to my grandfather’s house.

“You all live close together,” Quinn says when he pulls into the driveway.

“Always have,” I agree with a nod. “Our family is superclose. I like living near them, in case they need me.”

“I get it,” he says as I unlock the front door. He follows me inside and sets the box down as I flip on lights and take a look around. “I’m close to my family as well.”

“I came by last night to get the attic cleaned up a bit so we aren’t sitting in dirt.”

I lead him up the stairs to the second floor, then open a door that leads to another staircase, up to the attic. I turn on the lights and Quinn follows me up the steps.

“I was always so scared to come up here when I was a kid,” I admit with a chuckle. “Go ahead and set that down anywhere. As you can see, I moved the boxes to the perimeter of the room, so we can sit in the middle and start sifting through them.”

“Why did it scare you up here?” he asks and crosses to me, brushing a loose piece of hair off my cheek.

“Spooky attic,” I reply with a shrug, my cheek vibrating from his touch. “Maybe I read too many Goosebumps books as a kid.”

“I don’t think there’s anything up here that can hurt you.”

“Well, there could be something in these boxes that could do some damage, but there are no ghosts,” I reply and reach for a box, then sit on the floor and open the lid. “Although, there’s also no air-conditioning up here.”

“Take off your jacket,” he says as he removes his own, folds it in half, and lays it over an old chair. He loosens his tie, takes that off as well, and unbuttons his shirt, then rolls his sleeves halfway up his forearms. “That’s better.”

“I’m fine.”

I clear my throat and look in the box. It’s full of old, musty, yellowed papers.

“So are you and Patrick close?”

“Yeah, always have been,” I reply, pulling out receipts from 1952. “Wow, they paid five cents for a loaf of bread. I really need to focus. No reading everything, even though it’s so interesting.”

“If we get caught up in the price of bread, it’ll take us six months to get through this,” Quinn agrees. “I’d say we’re looking for handwritten notes, since that’s how the original was written. And it could be anywhere, but I’ll focus on files. If your grandfathers were attorneys, there’s a good chance they filed this, especially given the gravity of the matter.”

“Good thinking. I’ll concentrate on the same, but I will quickly scan each paper to make sure it’s not what we need, and not get focused on the contents otherwise.” I nod decisively and begin to dig. “So, anyway, Uncle Patrick and I have always been close. He’s also an attorney.”

Quinn just nods and keeps reading through papers.

“Why?”

His gaze whips up to mine. “Why what?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I was just curious.”

He looks down again, and I frown. Rather than question him, I dig back into the box and shift on the floor. I’m hot and uncomfortable, and wishing for cooler clothes.

“Take your jacket off,” Quinn repeats, not looking up from the paper he’s reading. “You’ll feel better.”