Cape Cod Kisses (Love on Rockwell Island 1)

TWENTY MINUTES LATER she was still standing by herself, waiting for Quinn to get off the phone. He’d walked farther away, but it was obvious that he was having a heated discussion about the merger as he paced with the phone glued to his ear.

She was reminded of when she was a little girl, standing in her father’s office waiting to tell him about how well she’d done on a test in school, or about the part she’d just gotten in a school play. The phone would ring and he’d hold up a finger. He’d never said, Excuse me, honey, or, I’ll just be a moment. He’d just disregard her altogether and take the call, sometimes leaving her standing in his office for half an hour before shooing her silently out so he could finish the call in private. Other times she’d simply left, unnoticed and not missed.

More and more of those same uncomfortable feelings were taking hold by the minute, tightening in her chest, making her feel unimportant and a little lonely. She tried to fight those feelings by remembering how much fun Quinn had been while clamming and what a gentleman he’d been the night before, when he’d found her skinny-dipping. How even after she'd thrown herself at him, and their kisses had sparked like fireworks on the 4th of July, he'd still gone out of his way to make sure things didn't go too far. Plus, she now knew just how much he had on his plate, with the possible resort takeover and his shipping conglomerate.

Ten minutes later, however, when the call didn’t look like it was going to end anytime soon, she walked up behind him to let him know she was going to head back over to her cottage and would wait for him there. But just as he caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye, he turned away, as if he needed to make sure he didn’t lose focus on his call for even a few seconds.

The pinched look on his face and his complete disregard made her feel so insignificant that tears stung in her eyes.

Again she fought those feelings, trying to give Quinn the benefit of the doubt by telling herself that he was juggling a ton of responsibilities. But she knew better, didn’t she?

I’m rationalizing for him.

How hard was it to say, Excuse me for one moment, to the person on the phone in order to give the person he was with a quick goodbye, or even an apology for taking so long?

She’d had the most incredible day with Quinn, and there was more heat between them than she'd ever imagined possible—but this was not okay.

She turned on her heel and walked quickly back to her cottage, taking big gulps of the sea air to try to get much-needed oxygen into her lungs. How could she have even considered having a fling with Quinn Rockwell, who was one of the wealthiest and most successful men on the East Coast? Was she a glutton for punishment? Hadn’t she known enough men like him to know what to expect?

She mounted the steps to her cottage and spied the champagne bottle on the windowsill, but this time, instead of softening her heart, his gesture that had once seemed so sweet only made the hurt from being ignored cut a little deeper.

Shelley had thought that as an adult she was over the hurt of being disregarded, but she clearly wasn’t. At the very least, Quinn’s behavior was a really good reminder of why she’d planned a solo honeymoon.

I’ll have my own damn bonfire.

QUINN’S PHONE BEEPED, indicating the battery was dying. He couldn’t afford to drop this call. Not only because there were now four of his business colleagues on the conference line discussing the merger, but because he’d also just learned that a competitor was honing in on Joseph Alger, one of their key executives. They needed to strategize so they didn’t lose him. Agitated and annoyed, Quinn sprinted back to his suite in the resort and plugged in the damn charger, continuing the conversation while tethered to the plug.

By the time Quinn ended the call, they’d hammered out several issues that had been looming around the merger, but there were still more on the horizon.

Unbidden, the thought came at him: There are always more on the horizon.

Quinn nearly choked as he finally checked his watch and realized that he’d just spent more than four hours on the phone. How the hell could he have been on the call for that long, when it had seemed like ten minutes?

Damn it. He’d asked Shelley to wait, thinking he’d be on the call for only a few minutes—not for four hours. How could he have done that to her?

He cursed as he looked out through the balcony doors. It was pitch-dark, and he hadn’t noticed that, either. Studying his reflection in the glass, Quinn didn’t like what he saw—a man who had been so consumed with work that he’d been too afraid of losing the focus his business partners demanded by seeing Shelley’s smile and hearing her voice to even pause his conversation for five seconds.