Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jo clung to Quinn for many long moments, savoring the closeness and the incredible pleasure. But at last he eased back and lifted her gently to the ground. She leaned against the tree, feeling weak and just the slightest bit bowlegged, while he turned and got himself together.
When he turned back to her, he had picked up her silk boxers from the ground. “Want some help putting these on?” he said with a smile in his voice.
Incredibly, considering all she’d experienced, a shiver of desire went through her.
“No, thank you.” She took the boxers from him and put them on.
If she let him help, he might begin to think she was insatiable.
Which she might be, but she still didn’t want him thinking she was.
Besides, as it was, she’d have trouble sitting a horse tomorrow.
Much more of Quinn’s loving and she’d be crippled. Happy, but crippled.
“Stay there,” he said. “I think I heard Fred leave the house. I’ll go make sure.” Quinn left the shadow of the tree and crept around the house.
Once he was no longer holding her, kissing her, making her forget everything but his loving, she had the unwelcome chance to think about their situation.
He sounded really serious about disguising himself so he could come back and see her.
The trouble was, she didn’t want him to be an occasional visitor, she wanted him to be a full-time, old-fashioned husband.
There, she’d finally admitted it to herself.
She loved him, and not only because he was, as the saying went, hung like a horse.
That was a nice bonus, but she’d fallen in love before she discovered that pleasant reality.
She’d fallen in love with his courage, his generosity and his sense of fun.
To have him drop in once in a while would break her heart.
It could very well break his, too. The man she loved wouldn’t be happy with that arrangement for long, but he was an investment banker, not a cowboy.
He might want her, in fact he obviously wanted her very much, but he didn’t want this life-style full of creepy-crawlies, belligerent horses and saddle sores.
She couldn’t ask him to sacrifice his career to live with her in Montana, but if she didn’t cut their relationship off right now, he might get in deep enough to consider such a move only to regret it later.
She hated the thought of hurting him, but it was the only way.
Quinn walked to the tree. “He’s gone back to the bunkhouse,” he said.
“The coast is clear.” He slipped his arms beneath her slicker and pulled her close, resting his cheek against the top of her head.
“But I don’t want to let you go. Listen, maybe I could use colored contacts and glasses. And a beard.”
She drew back and gazed at him. Maybe it was just as well she couldn’t see his face in the darkness. That made it easier to say what must be said. “Forget the disguise idea, Quinn. It wouldn’t work.”
“That’s what you think. You’d be amazed what facial hair can—”
“No, I mean it wouldn’t work for me. I don’t know if I’ll ever find another man to love, but if I do, he needs to be somebody who belongs in this country, somebody I can share ranch life with.
If you keep showing up, I’ll naturally keep wanting you, but you belong in New York, not out on some remote Montana ranch. We both need to cut our losses, Quinn.”
He gasped and stepped back as if she’d slapped him. He seemed to struggle with his breathing for a moment, and then he finally spoke. “Okay, if that’s the way you see it.” His voice was raw with hurt. “I guess I thought we’d created something worth hanging on to.”
“I will hang on to it,” she said softly. “I’ll never forget this night as long as I live.”
“But you never want another one?”
She braced herself against his agonized plea. “Not when it means I have to keep watching you head to New York when it’s over. And you have to do that, Quinn. We both know it. That’s what you’re trained for, what you’re used to.”
He turned away from her. “Yeah. That’s me. Wall Street or bust.”
She touched his arm. “Please understand how much you mean to me. How much what we’ve shared means to me.”
“Yeah.” His voice was thick with sorrow.
Oh, God. If Quinn started getting emotional, so would she. She’d be bawling her eyes out in a minute if she didn’t get out of there. “I’d better get back to the house.”
“Okay.
She gave his arm one last squeeze, grabbed the blanket and ran to the house. The quick movement told her she would indeed be very sore tomorrow. But it would be nothing to equal the pain in her heart.
Quinn stood in the shadows feeling as if somebody had come after him with a bullwhip.
He knew he wasn’t much of a cowboy, but she didn’t have to be so brutal about it.
Apparently he was so bad that she never even considered he might someday be of use on this ranch.
She thought he was so hopeless that even she and Fred couldn’t teach him enough to make his sorry ass worth something around here.
Nope, she was sending him right back to New York where he belonged. And she would look for a real cowboy. Like Hastings. Quinn gritted his teeth. He’d never met Hastings, and the guy was probably a decent human being, but Quinn was really beginning to hate the bastard.
He started to the bunkhouse and tripped over something. He picked up the flashlight she’d dropped when he’d grabbed her from behind. Damn, but her breasts were silky, and her... no. He couldn’t think about any of that or he’d go crazy.
He glanced at the flashlight and remembered seeing it on the table in the hallway. Maybe he should quietly return it so it wouldn’t become a topic of discussion. Tomorrow would be weird enough without having to explain the mysterious roving flashlight.
When he reached the porch he took off his boots so he wouldn’t make noise.
The unlocked door still amazed him, but with all the nocturnal comings and goings around the place, a key would be a nuisance.
And he supposed being surrounded by all these acres of rangeland kept the threat of crime very low.
He stood in the darkened entryway and battled temptation.
Despite what Jo had said, if he went up those stairs and climbed into her bed, she wouldn’t refuse him.
He might be out of condoms, but there were plenty of other ways to find mutual satisfaction, and his hunger for her still raged.
But that plan wouldn’t come to pass as long as he had a shred of pride left.
He started to set the flashlight on the small table by the door when another thought occurred to him.
He had a flashlight, so he wouldn’t have to turn on a lamp and risk having Fred or Benny notice it.
Okay, so he wasn’t a cowboy, but he was a hell of a good hand with figures.
If Jo didn’t lock her front door she sure as hell didn’t lock her desk.
He had a few hours before daybreak. It might be enough time to work some magic with Jo’s books.