For a second, she was sure he’d rip her argument to shreds, but he finally just shook his head. “As crazy as that is, it kind of makes sense.”
“It’s not crazy. And having a zombie plan is just good business. The CDC even went so far as to put out ads about how to survive a zombie apocalypse a few years ago.” She made a face. “Though they technically did it so people would actually pay attention to their advice, it still holds.”
“In that case, I won’t let any of the walking dead near you if you’ll share a meal with me in an actual restaurant.” He looked so damn serious, not like he was making fun of her at all.
She bit her lip. “But there are so many…people…in restaurants.”
Quinn leaned in close enough for her to catch a whiff of his cologne. Her toes curled and her body went tight in anticipation. But he just whispered. “If you make it through dinner without bolting, we can come back here and I’ll fuck you on every single surface this hotel room has to offer.”
Her breath stalled in her lungs. “I thought you were already going to do that.”
“Nah, I was already going to fuck you until you couldn’t walk right. This is something else altogether.”
She wasn’t sure she followed the logic, but Quinn had already more than proven he was capable of driving her out of her mind with pleasure. She’d be an idiot not to take him up on what he was offering. Besides, he had a point. They needed some kind of trial run before the demo tomorrow. This would do as well as anything.
He’d be her anchor. She tried and failed to ignore the fluttering in her chest at the thought.
Chapter Nine
Quinn held the door open for Aubry, taking a deep breath of the frigid air conditioning that El Diablo had to offer. The restaurant wasn’t particularly fancy, though it came highly recommended by the bellman at the hotel. From the smells filling the dining area, he had the right of it. Quinn kept his hand on Aubry’s back, as much to gauge her tension level as for the sheer enjoyment of touching her. And, yeah, she was about ready to flee for the hills from the way her eyes were darting around the room.
He caught the hostess’s eye. “Two, please.”
“This way.”
They followed her through the tables filled with people, Aubry’s shoulders hunching more with each step. Luckily their table was against a wall, nearly in the corner. He positioned her with her back to the wall, putting himself between her and the rest of the room. She didn’t notice, because she was too busy staring at her plate. In the last thirty seconds, her pale coloring had taken on a sickly hue and he could hear her breathing coming faster from across the table. “Peaches, look at me.”
She reluctantly lifted her gaze. “Why couldn’t we have ordered in?”
“Look at me,” he repeated. “Focus on me.” He gave her a cocky grin. “I’m the only one in this room who matters anyways.”
Like he’d suspected, that snapped her out of it, at least partially. “Narcissistic much?”
“Nah, I just call it like I see it.” And if she was focusing on him, she wasn’t worrying about all the other bodies in the room. He had to keep her talking, though, because the second she paused, that scarily impressive brain of hers would kick into high gear and then they’d have to start from scratch. “You know, Jules never told me what you do for a living.”
“You’ve been probing Jules for information about me?” Her tone gave nothing away, but some of the panic in her eyes retreated. “That’s stalkerish in the extreme.”
“I prefer the term self-preservation. I needed all the ammunition I could use to defend myself against your witty barbs.”
She rolled her eyes. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”
On purpose. “Back to the topic at hand…”
“I design websites and graphics.” She shrugged. “It’s not exactly my great passion, but it pays the bills and I can do it from Devil’s Falls, so it meets my needs.”
She was a study in contradictions. He’d never met a crazier woman when it came to some of her neuroses, but she was obviously passionate both in bed and when it came to that damn game of hers. Everything about her was extreme—either she hated or she loved, but she never toed the line. Except, apparently, when it came to her job. He smiled at the waitress when she delivered water to their table and took their order, and then turned his attention back to Aubry. “So what would you do if you were going to follow your great passion?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Peaches, you’ve delivered insults harsh enough to strip flesh from bone, but you’ve never lied to me—until now.” He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. “Tell me. I promise not to laugh at you.”
“No, you don’t.” She took a sip of her water. “And, anyways, that’s not what I’m afraid of—not that I’m afraid of anything about this conversation, exactly. It’s just that some things aren’t talked about.”
He blinked. “I don’t know where you get some of your ideas.”
“Oh, God, fine.” She hunched down in her seat. “I want to design video games.”
“Cool.”
Aubry fiddled with her silverware. “In theory, sure. But the reality isn’t cool at all. Even if I had the balls to submit my game to a company for consideration, the chances of it getting picked up are less than one percent, and if I went the indie route, there’s a whole host of other hurdles I’d have to get over. That’s not even bringing up what it’s like being a woman in the gaming industry—”
“Aubry.”
She sat back and finally looked at him. “What?”
He mentally revisited everything she’d just said. He wasn’t sure she’d taken a breath the entire time. “You have a game done?”
“It’s not done-done. It’s playable and there are a few levels put together, but that’s it.”
“That’s amazing.” He didn’t have a creative bone in his body, and while he could enjoy a video game here and there, he’d never really put much thought into what it took to actually create one. “You have to send it in.”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “Did you miss everything I just said?”
“I got it loud and clear. But let me ask you something—what’s the worst they could do?”
“Death threats come to mind.”
Quinn took a drink of his water, considering how to approach this. “But what if they said yes?”
“Back to the less than zero chance that they would.”
“There’s no such thing as less than zero.”
“Sure there is—”
“In algebra. Not in reality.” Hell, the woman was like a dog with a bone. He held up his hands as the waitress deposited chips and salsa onto the table. “I’m not saying you have to do it right now. I’m just saying it’d be a damn shame if you took away even the slightest chance of seeing your game sold in stores because you were scared of a little rejection.”
She picked up her fork and poked at her salad. “You don’t understand.”
“Enlighten me.”
She rolled a grape tomato around her plate. “You and Jules, and even Adam, walk around like you own the entire world. Not in a bad way, you’re just so crazy confident, it would never occur to you to quit something just because someone told you it was impossible. I’m pretty sure Jules would see that as a personal challenge. I’m not like that.”
“You’re a little bit of a basket case, I’ll grant you.” He waited for her half-hearted smile. “But, hell, I didn’t think you cared what anyone thought.”
“I don’t. It’s not that. It’s…” She finally stopped playing with her food and speared the tomato. “I’m already half convinced the game is shit. I don’t need someone else to tell me so and confirm it.”
If that wasn’t the most depressing outlook he could think of, he didn’t know what was. Quinn opened his mouth to argue further, but decided there had to be a better way to come at the subject. He’d think about it later and bring it up when she didn’t
have all her walls firmly in place.
Like when he was inside her.
He grinned at the thought, which had her brows slanting down. She pointed her fork at him. “I am highly suspicious of that look on your face right now.”