Chasing Me (Quinn and James 2)

I gasped. "You didn't tell me about that!"

James shrugged. "Didn't want to until I got the job. I start Monday."

The waitress came with our food. Dad pointed his fork at James. "Nothing wrong with hard work in any field. We do what we have to."

James smiled, but it seemed a bit lackluster. "Absolutely. Besides, I'll be able to make Quinn those designer coffees she loves."

I tried to eat my omelet, but my stomach was all twisty. Why was I so nervous about him working at a coffee shop? I agreed with my dad. I'd done jobs at all levels and felt proud no matter what it was. But James had already made so many changes. A year ago, he'd been spending money without a care, traveling to exotic places all over the world. Would serving coffee for tips be too much, too soon? "What about the art store that supplies the school?" I asked. "You'd be so good there."

"Competition is stiff," he said, pushing his scrambled eggs around on the plate. "Only a certain amount of spots, and they were already taken. I put in applications all over town, but Joe's was the one to snap me up."

I smiled back at him with encouragement. God, I loved him so much and wanted him to be happy. With me. Here, in Chicago. When he first came, the summer was stretched ahead of us, full of lazy mornings and endless possibilities. We spent hours in bed, limbs entangled, wracked in so much pleasure it should have been illegal. But when we both went back to school, things shifted, and the real world settled in. I was used to it, but every day I watched him struggle, trying to get used to a life he'd never known. Even the sex was beginning to change. He was more in control now. Softer. Like I was fragile, and he put me up on a shelf so I wouldn't break. I'd catch glimpses of the wild lover I adored, but then something changed, and suddenly he was full of control and a bit of distance. Like getting me off was his job, and he wasn't as caught up in the fall. It was frustrating since our lovemaking had always been raw and frantic, pushing me over the edge in a way I desperately needed. I was always too much in my head, and James balanced that part, ripping down my boundaries and forcing me into listening to my body. Now? He was so...careful. Now he rarely had sex with me in any other place but the bed. I thought of our last encounter, when I'd insisted he take me against the door, and shivered. So hot. Yet he'd tried to drag me to the bed, saying I deserved more.

I tried to bring it up, but it was too weird a conversation. I hoped it was a stage, and soon he'd go back to the James that took what he wanted, breaking me down and building me back up through the physical. I ached to see him succeed with his art and want to settle in Chicago with me, happy forever.

You sound like a Stevie Wonder song. How long can he pretend to want the kind of life you have? When he can have anything at his fingertips just by dealing with his parents?

Be quiet. We love each other. Doesn't love conquer all?

Now you sound like MacKenzie belting out her country hits. You're on borrowed time, babe. Enjoy it while you can.

"Shut up."

"What?" my father asked.

James tugged at my hair, his face softening. "She talks to herself a lot," he explained. "Calls the voice her inner bitch. Want me to take her on?"

I grinned. "Nah, I won this round. She's quiet now."

And just like that, my worries drifted away under the sting of his gorgeous blue eyes. I took in his bulk, dressed in jeans and a dark wool sweater that only emphasized all those mouth-drooling muscles. His burnished hair fell sexily into his eyes. From his carved cheekbones, arched brows, and lush, soft lips, he was the type of man women followed with their eyes and crushed on. He had this wicked mischief in his gaze that promised a woman the moon and stars and back again.

And boy, did he deliver that promise.

My father cleared his throat, which meant I'd been staring at James again, so I focused back on my plate.

"What do your parents think of art school, James?" my dad asked.

James stiffened, averting his gaze. "I don't talk much with them, sir. I called my father to let him know, of course, but we don't have much contact."

Dad frowned. "That's concerning. They're your parents. I'm sure they want the best for you. I know if Quinn moved and made a huge career change, I'd like to be kept abreast."

"It's different with James," I interrupted. "He's been on his own for years. His father said it's either college or join him in the family business."

Dad raised his brow. "Sounds fair to me. Responsible."

I squirmed in my seat with annoyance. "Dad, you don't understand the history. James has a right to make his own decisions."

"Not if his parents are paying."

James shoved the plate away and gave a tight smile. "You're right. Listen, I'm sorry, but I have to run. Mr. Harmon, it was good to see you again. I completely forgot I told some of my classmates I'd join them for a painting session."

"James--"

"I'll be back later, and we'll spend some time together."

"But"

He leaned over and pressed a kiss on the top of my head. Threw down a few bills on the table, then walked out of the diner.

Unease slithered through me. "What are you doing?" I hated the almost satisfied look on my father's face. "Talking about his parents upsets him."

"Quinn, I didn't mean to upset the boy. But as a parent, I thought I'd stick up for them. As far as I can see, they've paid for his education, he's dropped out of three colleges, refused to work in the business, and gave them a big screw-you. Does this sound right to you?"

I closed my eyes and fought my temper. "You don't understand the history. What about us? We had our own patches of trouble. How would you feel if some other parent was chiding me for not giving you the proper respect when you didn't deserve it?"

Dad jerked back. Hurt flickered over his face.

Ugh, I hated being bitchy. "I'm sorry, Dad. Forget it. Just don't mention his parents when you see him again. Okay?"

"Fine. Whatever you want. I just want what's best for you. You know that, right?"

I sighed. "Yes, I know. But James is best for me. He makes me happy."

He nodded then grabbed the bills off the table and gave them to me. "Here, breakfast is on me. Give this back to him and tell him I'm sorry."

I smiled, softening. The thing about my father was even when he screwed up, he manned up and admitted it. "Thanks, Dad."

He smiled back and shook his head. "Welcome. Listen, I'll be speaking at a special anniversary meeting on Friday night at AA. Can you come?"

"I think so. Yes."

"Good, it will be nice to have you in the audience for support."

"I'll be there."

We paid the check, hugged, and I started off back to my apartment. The Chicago wind froze my cheeks and stole my breath, but it felt good. Cleansing. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my green pea coat and hoped James was okay. My black boots ate up the pavement, and my mind spun. When we'd first met in Key West, he'd been plain about the truth of his past, calling himself a poor little rich boy. But the pain beneath his words was real and raw. Money didn't buy love or caring, and James's parents barely checked in with him, only wanting him to lead a proper life that didn't embarrass them or put them out. They rarely reached out, and even when James had called them about art school, they'd been cold, telling him he was on his own if he wanted to pursue a ragtag career.

I climbed the stairs, making my way into the brick building located close to the University. My best friend Cassie and I were going to room together at one time, since we weren't rich like MacKenzie, but we both ended up preferring our own space. My studio held all the basics, which I'd made homey with bright afghans, plants, and plenty of books. The futon did double duty as my bed and couch, and the kitchen had a microwave, stove, and refrigerator, with a small countertop. My television was old, not even a flat-screen, but it worked fine, and I was able to afford cable, so that was good enough for me.

I shivered, turned up the space heater, and grabbed my books to do some studying before James came over. We'd spend some quality time together, and maybe I'd wear those sexy red panties I'd been saving for a special occasion.

I pushed away thoughts of sex and James and concentrated on my studies.