Stroke of Luck

“When you’re in the system,” she said, “you know that you’re out on your own at eighteen. No fallback. No safety net. I was lucky to get a scholarship for college so I had a hope of a better future, but the uncertainty I’d lived with all my life left me craving security. I believed he loved me. And he had money. I’d never have to worry.”

Austin could see that she hated herself for having to admit that. He could also see that Quinn couldn’t see anything past her admission, which would exacerbate his belief that she was a gold digger.

Damn, but their relationship history was fraught with pain and misunderstanding.

He’d asked this question not to torture her but to get her to open up about what she wanted in a relationship. About what love was to her. He’d hoped that her answers would help Quinn see that she wanted more from a romantic relationship than money. And he’d hoped it would give him some insight into why she hadn’t found what she’d needed with Quinn. Austin was sure she hadn’t left Quinn just because he’d been broke at the time. He’d hoped to find some clue that might help bring them together again.

Because it was so clear to him—it had been all along—that Quinn loved this woman.

“Okay, so we get that he made you feel secure,” Austin said. “But as a man, what did he do? How did he behave to make you think he loved you?”

She glanced at him in surprise—as if amazed he would even talk to her now that she’d made her admission.

“As I said, he paid attention to me. He made me feel special.”

Austin could feel Quinn seething behind his indifferent expression. Austin was sure he was thinking that he had done the same thing. From what Quinn had mentioned of her, he had showered her with attention.

“What specifically did he do?”

“I don’t know. He listened to what I said. One time, he surprised me with a scarf I’d seen in a store window the night before when we’d gone out for a walk. I hadn’t even realized he’d noticed my interest. He knew I loved breakfast more than any other meal, so he’d often take me out to a pancake house in the evening so I could have breakfast for dinner. But mostly, he just always made time for me.”

“It sounds like you wish you were back with the guy,” Quinn said, his voice devoid of emotion, but Austin could hear a tinge of bitterness.

She shook her head. “Of course not. I realize how superficial those things are in the long run. And he didn’t really care. He just put on a good show.”

“But it gives a clue as to what you need in a relationship,” Austin said. “With your past, it’s important that you have someone who makes time for you. Who listens. Who shows that he cares. Because all of that has been wholly missing from your life.”

Quinn looked at his watch. “As fun as this conversation is,” he said dryly, “we should get moving. We have the poker game scheduled in about two hours and, Austin, you said you want to hit the casino first.”

Austin added a generous tip to the bill and signed it, then turned to April.

“You deserve to find a man who is everything you’ve dreamed of.” Then he took her hand and kissed it.

* * *

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April stood up and accepted the arm Austin offered, curling her fingers around his elbow. A quick glance at Quinn’s cold stare made her want to shrivel into a ball. What did he want from her? He’d already told her he wanted to share her with his friend. Why would he care about such a trivial intimacy as her holding his arm?

Unless it was because he hadn’t given his permission.

She walked alongside Austin, and the heat of him so close set her stomach fluttering, his strong, muscular arm making her feel protected.

Austin was a good, sensitive man. The questions he’d asked, although uncomfortable, showed his insight and compassion.

They stepped from the relative quiet of the restaurant into the din of the crowds. As they walked along the carpeted floor, video screens blared with bright lights and flashing displays. The continuous sound of the machines and people’s voices bombarded her.

Quinn pulled his cell from his pocket and stared at the screen.

“That’s Johan,” he said. “He’s having a PR issue. Carl Veron is trashing the company all over the internet, and Johan is taking some interviews to set things straight. He wants to go over a few things with me before his first one in half an hour.”

“Do you need me to help?” Austin asked.

“No. You go ahead to the tables, and I’ll meet you there. The usual?”

Austin nodded, and Quinn hurried away toward the nearest elevator in his long-legged stride.

“Johan is our PR person,” Austin said.