All the Way (Romancing Manhattan 1)

“No problem.” We’re walking around the reservoir, through thick trees. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you were in the woods. “What’s up?”

“Well, I wanted to talk about Finn’s party tomorrow night. I know it’s not a surprise, but we’re going to need him to get there by a certain time. He’s not usually late, but it will help if I have you helping make sure he doesn’t procrastinate, given how excited he is about the party.”

“I think he’s going to have a good time,” I reply with a laugh. “He just thinks a party is silly.”

“Okay, now I’m going to cut to the chase.”

I catch my toe on something and trip forward, and Quinn quickly catches me, scooping me up around the waist and righting me.

“Thanks.”

“Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks for catching me. It was quite chivalrous of you. You’ll make an excellent husband one day.”

“Did my mother pay you to say that?”

“No.” I laugh again and pat his shoulder. “She’s on you about that, is she?”

“Every day of my damn life. And she can harp all she wants, but it isn’t going to happen.”

“Marriage?”

“No way.”

“Why not?”

He glances down at me. “I don’t have time for a woman and a family. I work long hours, I take care of Mom, and honestly, I like to play around a bit.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-eight. Why?”

“Just curious. I guess as long as you’re safe, you can do whatever you want.”

“Safe is my middle name.”

“Quinn Safe Cavanaugh. Has a ring to it.”

“Now I know what my brother sees in you. You’re a smartass.”

“That’s not all he sees in me.” I wink at him, making him laugh now. “So why did you really ask to meet me here? We both know you could have told me what time to have him there over e-mail or text.”

“You’re smart too,” he says, and rubs his hand across the back of his neck. “I really want to know what your intentions are with my brother.”

I stop walking and prop my hands on my hips.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were the older brother. You’re so protective.”

“It’s a valid question,” he replies. “My brother is a wealthy, well-known attorney. You’re not the first woman to be swept up in all of that.”

“Do you really think I’m swept up in his money and affluence?”

He shrugs, as if to say, If the shoe fits.

“Do you have any idea who I am?” I ask him.

“London Watson. Beyond that, I have no idea.”

“You must not go to the theater with your mother,” I mutter, and walk up to him so I’m barely a foot away. “I’m London Watson, the Tony Award–winning actress, you nitwit. I’ve been working in theater for years, and I’m about to star in a movie with Jeffrey Cameron.”

“The movie star?”

“And stage actor,” I add, and thrust my finger in his face. “I’m wealthy without your brother. I might even guess that I’m wealthier than your brother. And you know what? I give zero fucks about that. I have a sweet condo in Manhattan, right next to Central Park, as a matter of fact, and a house on Martha’s Vineyard worth millions. I know famous people.

“But you know what, Quinn?”

“What’s that, London?”

“Your brother is so much more than the dollar signs you seem to associate with him. He’s a kind, funny, generous, and loving man.”

“I know.”

“And he is certainly man enough to know when a woman is with him for the money, and when she’s with him because she loves him.”

“You’re right.”

I’m breathing hard, still seeing red.

“That was a shitty thing to do,” I say at last.

“Well, you passed that test,” he says with a wide smile. “And for the record? I knew who you are. I’m not an idiot.”

“You sound like one,” I counter, making him toss his head back and laugh like a loon.

“I like you, London.”

“You’ll grow on me,” I reply. “And let me warn you. Accuse me of being a leech one more time, and I’ll take your fucking testicles off.”

“I like a woman with gumption,” he says, but he brushes his hand over his crotch, as if he’s protecting himself from a surprise blow.

“I’ve got more than gumption,” I reply easily. “I love your brother, and when someone, even you, talks about him like that, it pisses me off. I have no problem kicking your ass.”

“Okay, okay.” He holds his hands up in surrender and his face sobers. “I apologize. I admit, I was trying to offend you. If I didn’t offend you, I’d know you were here for the wrong reasons, and no one wants that.”

“Has he had a lot of that in his past?” I ask.

“We’ve all had a few women come and go who were more interested in the name and the money than in us.”

“That’s not me.”