Stroke of Luck

“Not a good idea,” Austin said. “You don’t want to cause a scene. And it looks like they’re leaving anyway.”

“Well, fucking catch up to her. I don’t want her going back to the guy’s room.”

“Not a problem. I heard her say she has to go but she’ll talk to him tomorrow. Just in case she’s heading back to the suite, I’ll try to beat her up there. If I don’t make it, please don’t say anything to her until I get there.”

“I make no promises,” Quinn said through gritted teeth.

* * *

April slowed as she approached the suite door. How was she going to tell Quinn and Austin why she was wearing Maurice’s engagement ring?

She could just stroll in and say, “Hey, guess what? I ran into Maurice, and we’re now officially engaged again.”

She sucked in a deep breath, then slid the key card into the slot and opened the door. When she stepped into the entrance, she saw that both Quinn and Austin were sitting in the living room staring her way.

“Oh, hi. It’s really nice outside. Sunny and warm.” She took off her shoes and dropped her purse beside them. “I had a nice walk and then sat in the garden for a while. Then I went to the spa. Did Austin mention about the spa?”

She realized she was babbling, which she did when she was nervous.

She walked into the living room, sensing a tension she hadn’t noticed before because of her own anxiety.

Austin’s expression was guarded, but Quinn’s rippled with displeasure. She sat down in the armchair between the couch where Quinn sat and Austin’s chair.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

Quinn scowled, then picked up his phone and tapped it. “I hear you ran into an old friend.” His voice

was tight and hard. He held the phone up facing her, revealing a photo of her and Maurice talking in the bar.

Her back stiffened. “Yes, as a matter of fact. I ran into Maurice while I was leaving the spa.”

“And you went out on a date with him,” Quinn accused.

“It was a drink, not a date. And yes, I accepted his invitation. He wanted to talk about what happened.”

She wanted to say more. Like he had no right to interrogate her like this. She could talk to whomever she wanted. But she didn’t want to inflame the already tense situation.

“So are you going back to him?” Quinn’s midnight eyes were somber.

Shock and anger surged through her at his question. She could feel her cheeks burning with it.

“No, of course not. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

He grasped her hand and jerked it up, glaring at the diamond on her finger. “Then why are you wearing his ring?”

She glared back at his angry face, but said nothing.

“And last night, you murmured his name in your sleep. Then you said you loved him.”

She felt the blood drain from her face. That’s why he’d been upset. She’d babbled out loud. God, she couldn’t tell him that her proclamation of love in her sleep had been to him. Not when he didn’t return those feelings.

“I see you just ditched our wedding ring without a thought.”

“It was for a fake wedding.”

“The wedding was real,” Quinn countered. “You are my wife.”

“But the feelings are fake.”