Chapter Three #3
because I knew you’d appreciate its beauty as much as I do.” He paused, averting his eyes. “Maybe because I thought we both
needed something to blot out the worries of last night and this morning.”
Meggie hung her head. “I feel terrible about what happened this morning.”
“Don’t.” Gently his hand covered hers on the vinyl seat. “I overreacted. I don’t do that often.”
Her eyes searched the rugged, uneven line of his jaw. “But why . . . ?”
The returning smile was grim. “My emotions were involved.” The minute the words were out, Meggie realized by the look in his
eyes that he hadn’t meant to say that. Quickly he jerked his head around.
“Jill likes you, which is something of a novelty in itself. The girl needs a stable influence in her life. I know she isn’t
getting it from her grandmother or me, Hariette being the lesser of two evils. I’d hate the thought of Jill losing the friendship
of the only decent person she knows.”
The silence stretched between them. She swallowed at the lump of pain building in her throat. Quinn’s only concern for her
had been in relation to his daughter’s needs.
They were driving along Sandy Boulevard toward town before Quinn spoke again. “There are a few basic precautions you need
to start taking. It probably wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to get a roommate,” he suggested.
“I don’t want a roommate,” she told him defiantly. “For the first time in my life I’m truly on my own and I’m not going to
let some prankster frighten me.”
“All right. But I think that until we find out exactly what we’re up against, it wouldn’t do any harm to move in with a friend.
In all likelihood, it’s some kid after a thrill, but it doesn’t hurt to be on the safe side.”
The brittle movement of her mouth was a poor replica of a smile. “You’re not getting rid of me quite that easily. I’ll have
my phone changed to an unlisted number and if that doesn’t stop the calls then I’ll deal with it later. You may overreact,
but let me assure you I do not,” she said stiffly.
From the way the muscles flexed in the firm line of his jaw, Meggie knew she’d hit home. But there was little satisfaction
in the jibe, only a throbbing ache in the area of her heart.
Quinn insisted on buying and installing a deadbolt lock for her door. They hardly exchanged more than a few polite, stilted
sentences the whole time he was working.
The afternoon together had been so wonderful as they roamed the grounds of the Grotto. Meggie hated this breach developing
between them. Several times she tried making conversation but his abrupt, noncommittal responses drove his point home. He
clearly didn’t want to talk.
After he’d completed the project, he set his tools aside and stood, withdrawing a card from his shirt pocket. “Phone me if
you have any more problems,” he told her forcefully. “The first phone number is the apartment, the second, my office. Don’t
hesitate, Meggie, I mean that.”
Nodding, she clenched the card tightly to her breast. “Thanks, Quinn, for everything.” She sighed deeply. “It seems that I’m
in your debt again. Either that or I’m apologizing.” Wearily she lowered her eyelashes. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be just
fine.”
“Just play it safe. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“I won’t.”
Very gently his hand cupped the underside of her face, the rough texture of his palm massaging the silky smoothness of her
skin. “Call if you need me,” he whispered and lowered his hand.
It took every dictate of her resolve not to hold his hand against her face, to let him walk away. So much had passed between
them in the last twenty-four hours and most of the communication had never been spoken: The things he had shared with her
today about the Grotto; his reasons for going there in the past were things he hadn’t told anyone. Intuitively, Meggie knew
this. It was as if he had exposed a deeply personal part of himself to her, but found her unworthy and had pulled away.
With a heavy heart she leaned against the door, turning the thick lock. Everything was still and Meggie waited for the sound
of his moving outside the door. For a long time there was absolute quiet before she heard him leave. Quinn had stood, with
just the wood door separating them, as if he too was musing over the same thoughts.
He was a private man, fiercely proud. He didn’t need her; he’d made certain she understood that. But Jill did. The daughter
of this man, who was capable of drawing such deep emotion from her, needed Meggie. And for now that was enough.
About seven Meggie realized she was hungry. She hadn’t eaten since a hurried breakfast of an egg and toast. There wasn’t time
for lunch and she’d simply forgotten later. The thought of fixing something just for herself hardly seemed worth the effort.
Cooking had never bothered her before. While in school she’d eaten in the cafeteria and didn’t need to worry about meals.
At home her father had continually praised her culinary efforts and as often as not Sam joined them for the evening meal.
The freezer contained one last TV dinner. No, that could too easily become a habit. Unsure of exactly what she was hoping
to find, she opened one of the cupboards and began shuffling boxes around. A movement captured Meggie’s attention and she
leaned closer to see.
At precisely that second a tiny mouse scurried across the width of the cupboard. Terror gripped her throat and she gave a
frightened scream, but the cry caught in her throat and was more of a strangled sound. Backing away, her heart vibrated in
her ears until she thought the pounding sound would burst her eardrums. She cried out again as the panic filled her lungs.
She hardly recognized the piercing shrill as her own.
Someone was pounding on the door, frantically calling her name. Quinn.
She ran to the door, her fingers fumbling with the newly installed lock. Her breathing came in giant gasps as she finally
threw open the door and fell into his arms.
“Meggie, what is it?” he demanded.
Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point. How could she possibly explain that a tiny mouse had absolutely terrified
her?
“Meggie,” he repeated, shaking her violently.
Tears broke over the dam of her thick lashes and flowed freely down her face. Suddenly it was all too much: the fights with
her father, the move, the new job, the obscene phone calls, and now on top of everything else . . . a mouse. Nothing had ever
frightened her more than mice. As a child her brother had tormented her with the creatures until the aversion had become a
phobia. It wasn’t until she was in a psychology class that she learned she wasn’t alone. The medical term for the fear of
mice was musophobia.
When still she didn’t explain, Quinn caught her by the shoulders and shook her again.
Laughter bubbled to the surface while she was still struggling with the tears. She pointed to the kitchen. “I saw a mouse.”
“A mouse!” Quinn repeated. “You were screaming like a banshee over a stupid mouse?”
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled between the tears. “Oh no, I’m doing it again. I always end up apologizing to you.”
Running a hand over his pale face, Quinn walked to the opposite side of the room. Pausing, he glanced out the window, drawing
in deep breaths before turning around and facing her.
“I’ve always considered myself a peaceful, quiet man,” he said cryptically. “But I don’t think my heart can take another week
of living next door to you.”
“Oh, Quinn, I feel terrible.”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” he warned, the color beginning to seep into his stark white face.
“I won’t.”
He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Do you want me to set up a mousetrap?”
“No!” she gasped. “There’s only one thing worse than a live mouse.”
“A dead one?”
Meggie nodded.
“O’Halloran, what are we going to do about you?”
“I bet several colorful suggestions come to mind.”
A smile crinkled the crow’s-feet about his eyes. “None of them pleasant.”
“I didn’t imagine they would be.”
The phone rang, drawing her attention to the end table.
The laughter drained from his face as his look narrowed and quickly transformed. “You want me to answer it?”
Clasping her hands tightly together in front of her, Meggie nodded weakly.
Calmly Quinn lifted the receiver. “Hello.”
Silence.
Meggie watched another transformation take place in his eyes, one of deep anger.
“It’s for you.” He handed her the phone. “It’s your fiancé.”
Without another word he turned and stalked from the room.