Hot to the Touch

And speaking of awkward firsts, they spent the next half minute in excruciating silence, shifting on their seats, glancing around.

To hell with business as usual, Marie would tackle him directly. “I guess you found out why I wanted to match you up with Darcy.”

He nodded. “You were right. She is beautiful, and does seem strong and intelligent.”

And thin and sexy and her legs went on for miles.

“Am I interrupting?” To her horror, she sounded like a bitter she-goat, and had to clear her throat. “Do you want me to come back later?”

“Yeah, Marie, that would be good.” He nodded solemnly. “Because you’re really cramping my style here.”

Marie swallowed down panic, even suspecting he was joking. “I don’t think you should go home with her.”

“Ah, you don’t.” He signaled Joe the bartender, who’d made it over to their part of the crowd. “Marie, what’ll you have?”

She had no brain to decide with. “What you’re having.”

“A martini for the lady tonight, Joe. And an order of chicken wings with the soy-tarragon sauce. Do you want anything to eat, Marie?”

She shook her head, stomach churning too hard for food. Too hard for alcohol, too, but she was going to need it.

“Just the wings, Joe.” He turned to Marie, looking half amused, half annoyed. “So you don’t think I should try to get Darcy into the sack.”

Marie fidgeted, guiltily aware that it was none of her business whom he slept with, and that she had an ulterior motive for stopping him. “She’s…well, I’m trying to set her up with Troy. I think there’s something there. And if you— I don’t know, maybe the two of you should try. But my gut tells me she really likes him.”

“Hmm.” He raised his martini contemplatively. Marie even thought the furrow between his eyebrows was sexy. She was hopeless. “There’s a problem.”

With giving up his chance at Darcy? “What’s that?”

“You’re cheating me out of a night of passion.”

She couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the idea of him writhing around in bed with her friend. Nameless bimbos Marie never had to see were bad enough. “You can’t manage this one little disappointment?”

“No, this is serious business.” Except he was looking less and less serious. His features were having a hard time staying in a frown, and his eyes were dancing. “I think a little compensation is in order.”

“You— What do you mean?” Marie clutched the drink Joe set down in front of her.

“I mean you’ll owe me for the lost night of ecstasy. I’ll expect you to make it up to me.”

Marie stopped breathing. The bar grew dim around her. All she could focus on was Quinn’s handsome face, his eyes dark with amusement…and something else?

“I see.” Her voice came out a hoarse croak. “Well, that sounds entirely…unreasonable.”

“I’m joking, Marie.”

“I know. I knew that.” She forced a laugh, gulped her martini and barely got the swallow down, saving herself from repeated choking humiliation, thank God. Unfortunately, her most female parts hadn’t caught up to the ha-ha-funny aspect of his trick and were still heated and hopeful. Would she never learn?

“However, I’m not above taking advantage and insisting you come to Chicago with me to have dinner and see a show. One of my favorite little theaters is doing a revival of The Sound of Music. I remember you saying you loved that musical.”

Chicago. With Quinn. Another invitation, another whole evening in his company. This one would consist of a two-hour drive. Dinner. A show. Then the drive back in the intimacy of the wee hours. Or would they stay over somewhere? She couldn’t let herself think that far. “I’d love it.”

“Good.” He pulled out his iPhone. “How about Saturday the twelfth?”

Marie pulled out hers, hands shaking so that she was barely able to manipulate the machine. “Um. Yes. I’m free. That sounds great.”

“Good. I’ll get us tickets and dinner reservations.” He put his phone away, as calm and sane as she was rattled and neurotic. As if he did this every day with different women, and Marie was simply up next. Except she didn’t think he did this with other women. “I’m looking forward to it, Marie.”