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Authors: Mary Anne Wilson
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in the doorway, stripped to the waist, holding his shirt and tie in one hand.
All she could see was the expanse of bare chest, the slight tan to the taut skin, the light sprinkling of dark hair forming a T that disappeared into his waistband. Her mouth went dry and she jerked her eyes up, praying that he wouldn’t have a clue where herthoughts had been going. She felt sick from it, and she literally had to swallow twice before she could speak to him. “I’m taking care of it.”
“Amy, it’s ruined,” he said in that low grumble of a voice that only added to her discomfort at his closeness.
She turned away from him, gathering her thoughts, and stared at the jacket. The stain was still there, now darkened by water. “No, I can fix it.”
“Forget it. It’s finished.”
She still thought she could make it okay, but if he didn’t, she wasn’t going to fight him. “Okay, how much did it cost?”
“You don’t have to do that. It was an accident, but I have to say that you and your daughter are quite a pair, wreaking havoc on everyone and everything around you.”
She looked up, catching herself in the mirror of the medicine cabinet, Quint’s reflection right behind her, Quint and that half smile he had playing at the corners of his mouth. “How much?” she repeated. “I need to pay for it if I can’t fix it.”
He watched her for a long moment, then shrugged, “Lady, it’s off the rack and cost about two hundred dollars, but it’s old and it was time to get rid of it. You saved me a trip to the secondhand store.” He leaned one shoulder against the door frame and studied her with those hazel eyes. “You’ve got better things to do with your money than buy a jacket for me. Just do me a favor and throw it out.” He held out his shirt and tie to her. “And these, just throw them out, too.”
She took the ruined shirt and tie out of his hand, laid them over the jacket on the sink’s edge, then looked at him again. He had his arms crossed over his naked chest, showing surprising muscles, and she forced herself to look him right in the eye. “This is the deal. I’ll do what I can for all of the clothes, and if I can’t clean them, I’ll throw them out and pay you for them.” When he would have objected, she stopped him. “That’s the deal, period. No negotiating about it.”
He stood straight, hands lifted, palms out toward her. “Okay. You win. Deal.” Then he looked down at his lack of clothing before he met her gaze again. “Can I ask a favor?”
Taylor came up behind Quint right then, and Amy barely had time to get to her before she tossed the bottle at Quint again. She thought she’d put it up high enough, but obviously she hadn’t. She grabbed the bottle, hitting Quint in the shoulder in the process, but keeping his slacks safe from the remainder of the juice. Taylor plunked down on her bottom in the hall behind Quint.
“Thank goodness,” Amy breathed, straightening with the topless bottle, relieved to have averted another catastrophe, at least until she turned and found herself with no more than two inches between herself and Quint’s bare chest. When she looked up, his face seemed so close that it was slightly blurred.
“Lady, you’re good.”
She sidled to the right, into the hallway, to get distance, and scooped up Taylor, setting her on one hip. “I’ll find you something to wear,” she said quickly,carrying Taylor and the bottle back into the main room, then through to the kitchen. Tossing the bottle in the sink, she turned and saw Quint across the half wall, in the living area, watching her, his expression unreadable.
“I refuse to wear a blouse,” he said.
Damn it, was he joking as if this was all fun, when it was stressing her so much she had to remind herself to breathe? She went back into the living area, put Taylor down by the window near her open toy box and crossed to the coffee table. “There has to be something in here you can wear,” she muttered,
All she could see was the expanse of bare chest, the slight tan to the taut skin, the light sprinkling of dark hair forming a T that disappeared into his waistband. Her mouth went dry and she jerked her eyes up, praying that he wouldn’t have a clue where herthoughts had been going. She felt sick from it, and she literally had to swallow twice before she could speak to him. “I’m taking care of it.”
“Amy, it’s ruined,” he said in that low grumble of a voice that only added to her discomfort at his closeness.
She turned away from him, gathering her thoughts, and stared at the jacket. The stain was still there, now darkened by water. “No, I can fix it.”
“Forget it. It’s finished.”
She still thought she could make it okay, but if he didn’t, she wasn’t going to fight him. “Okay, how much did it cost?”
“You don’t have to do that. It was an accident, but I have to say that you and your daughter are quite a pair, wreaking havoc on everyone and everything around you.”
She looked up, catching herself in the mirror of the medicine cabinet, Quint’s reflection right behind her, Quint and that half smile he had playing at the corners of his mouth. “How much?” she repeated. “I need to pay for it if I can’t fix it.”
He watched her for a long moment, then shrugged, “Lady, it’s off the rack and cost about two hundred dollars, but it’s old and it was time to get rid of it. You saved me a trip to the secondhand store.” He leaned one shoulder against the door frame and studied her with those hazel eyes. “You’ve got better things to do with your money than buy a jacket for me. Just do me a favor and throw it out.” He held out his shirt and tie to her. “And these, just throw them out, too.”
She took the ruined shirt and tie out of his hand, laid them over the jacket on the sink’s edge, then looked at him again. He had his arms crossed over his naked chest, showing surprising muscles, and she forced herself to look him right in the eye. “This is the deal. I’ll do what I can for all of the clothes, and if I can’t clean them, I’ll throw them out and pay you for them.” When he would have objected, she stopped him. “That’s the deal, period. No negotiating about it.”
He stood straight, hands lifted, palms out toward her. “Okay. You win. Deal.” Then he looked down at his lack of clothing before he met her gaze again. “Can I ask a favor?”
Taylor came up behind Quint right then, and Amy barely had time to get to her before she tossed the bottle at Quint again. She thought she’d put it up high enough, but obviously she hadn’t. She grabbed the bottle, hitting Quint in the shoulder in the process, but keeping his slacks safe from the remainder of the juice. Taylor plunked down on her bottom in the hall behind Quint.
“Thank goodness,” Amy breathed, straightening with the topless bottle, relieved to have averted another catastrophe, at least until she turned and found herself with no more than two inches between herself and Quint’s bare chest. When she looked up, his face seemed so close that it was slightly blurred.
“Lady, you’re good.”
She sidled to the right, into the hallway, to get distance, and scooped up Taylor, setting her on one hip. “I’ll find you something to wear,” she said quickly,carrying Taylor and the bottle back into the main room, then through to the kitchen. Tossing the bottle in the sink, she turned and saw Quint across the half wall, in the living area, watching her, his expression unreadable.
“I refuse to wear a blouse,” he said.
Damn it, was he joking as if this was all fun, when it was stressing her so much she had to remind herself to breathe? She went back into the living area, put Taylor down by the window near her open toy box and crossed to the coffee table. “There has to be something in here you can wear,” she muttered,
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