At First Touch. Tamara Sneed

dry was more fun than talking to Miles.

      Both Wyatt and Beatrice startled at a sudden knock on the front door. Beatrice looked wide-eyed at Wyatt. Some morticians’ wives learned to live with the job; Beatrice was not one of those women.

      Wyatt tried to keep his expression calm for his mother. Twice in two days. This couldn’t be a false alarm.

      “Do you think…” Beatrice’s voice trailed off as she looked toward the hallway that led to the front door.

      “I’ll get it,” Wyatt said, mentally congratulating himself on how calm he sounded.

      Wyatt ignored his mother’s worried gaze and walked through the highly polished and spotless family living area and into the mortuary’s reception area to the front door. He sighed, relieved when he saw Quinn’s silhouette through the stained glass in the front door. Then he frowned. The chances of Quinn knocking on his door twice in two days were about as likely as the Oakland Raiders making their appearance.

      Quinn pounded on the door again and Wyatt quickly opened it before she knocked the door off its hinges. For a small woman, she sure could knock.

      A blast of cold air rushed into the warm house as Quinn stood on the porch, looking more beautiful than she had last night and even more pissed. He silently cursed. He had lied last night. He would never be able to ignore her when she was near. The world became Technicolor, Dolby Surround sound. How could he ignore that?

      “Quinn,” he greeted calmly.

      She pushed designer sunglasses to the top of her head, then quickly took them off to brush her hair into perfect waves again. “So?”

      “So…what?”

      “So, can we use your house or not?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest, which drew his gaze to the cleavage. He suddenly felt a little sweat bead on his forehead. Quinn’s honey-brown cleavage could do that to a man. “I have places to be, things to do. I need a decision.”

      Wyatt stared at her for a moment, then leaned against the door frame. She returned his stare with a lift of her chin. And a small part of him wanted to take her up on it. To just lose his nice-guy, patient image and to just grab her around the waist and…Wyatt shook his head at his thoughts. He wouldn’t be touching Quinn Sibley. No matter what. He should just turn and walk away. Ignore her. Leave her alone.

      “I told you that I’d let you know as soon as I knew.”

      “Have you even asked your mother yet?”

      “I can’t just spring something like this on my mother. She is very set in her ways, and she’s very traditional. It’ll take some gentle persuasion, but she’ll come around. Hopefully. I’ll let you know as soon as she does.”

      “That’s not good enough, Wyatt. I have a whole production waiting on this. I told you what’s at stake. I need to know now.”

      “I’m doing the best I can,” he said, with a shrug. When she only glared at him, he moved to close the door.

      She placed a hand on the door, stopping him. If possible, laser beams shot from her eyes and bored into his brain. “We’re not done here, Wyatt,” she said huskily.

      Wyatt told himself to remain calm. He knew Quinn liked to pout and shout and act like a brat. Hell, half of him liked for her to pout and shout and act like a brat. But the other half of him wanted her to respect him and treat him like a man.

      He closed the distance between them until he could feel the heat from her body stroke his. She craned her neck to look at him. She no longer looked defiant and angry. Now there was a question in her eyes. Maybe even nerves. Something male and powerful snaked around Wyatt’s heart.

      He kept his voice low and even as he said, “We’re done when I say we’re done, Quinn. And, trust me, we’re done.”

      He actually heard her gulp. The tip of her pink tongue nervously wet her bottom lip, and her bright eyes darted from his eyes to his mouth. Her gaze finally lingered on his mouth. Wyatt’s body tightened in response as if it knew something that he didn’t. As if it felt that maybe—just maybe—Quinn was beginning to feel that something Wyatt always felt around her.

      Of course, Beatrice picked that moment to stand beside Wyatt. Quinn instantly averted her gaze, and Wyatt coughed to cover the desire clogging his throat.

      Beatrice’s gaze hardened as she pointedly stared from Quinn’s tight sweater and blinged-out gold bomber jacket to the skintight expensive jeans and stiletto heels. Beatrice’s mouth narrowed, and Wyatt silently cursed. That expression from his mother was not a good thing.

      Quinn turned her sweet smile on Beatrice, which prompted Beatrice’s eyes to narrow even more. Wyatt thought about warning Quinn because he could tell she was going to bring up the movie, but what good would that do? All the warnings in the world would not help Quinn now.

      “May I help you?” Beatrice asked, as if she had no idea who Quinn was.

      “I’m Quinn Sibley,” Quinn said brightly. “I don’t believe we’ve met—”

      “We met at your sister’s wedding,” Beatrice replied in a stiff tone that told them both that Beatrice had not considered it a pleasant experience. Her eyes once more traveled over Quinn’s outfit.

      Quinn soldiered on. “We did? I’m sure I would have remembered a woman as beautiful as you. Are you Wyatt’s sister?”

      Beatrice did not crack a smile at the lame attempt at sucking up. Wyatt told himself to remain silent, but then he saw the brief flash of discomfort across Quinn’s face before she could hide it. And since he was a genuine sucker for Quinn, he couldn’t just stand by while his mother pulverized her.

      “Quinn, this is my mother, Beatrice Granger,” Wyatt quickly covered the awkward silence. “Quinn was actually just leaving—”

      “Since I’m here, Mrs. Granger, we may as well talk,” Quinn interrupted Wyatt, her gaze flickering to him in annoyance before she turned that smile back on Beatrice. “You may have heard that I’m planning to film a movie right here in our very own Sibleyville. We had the pick of places in town, but we’ve chosen your beautiful home as our prime location for filming. This house is such a testament to this town and there’s obviously so much love and time put into each and every room in this house. We would pay for your inconvenience, of course, and even paint and—”

      “No,” Beatrice said, flatly. “We’re a funeral home, not a movie studio. Your father would roll over in his grave if he saw movie cameras traipsing around his home.”

      Wyatt was surprised by his mother’s flat refusal and her open hostility to Quinn. Beatrice was not the friendliest person, but she also didn’t usually express her dislike so openly. Well, maybe she did, but Wyatt couldn’t really recall ever seeing it.

      Beatrice effectively dismissed Quinn and said to Wyatt, “Close the door. You’re letting all the heat out. And remember Dorrie is waiting for you. You should try to get over there soon. She wants to take you to lunch to repay you, but I think she wants to just spend some time with you.”

      Quinn watched in disbelief as Beatrice walked back into the house, without another glance in Quinn’s direction. Wyatt sighed in relief. That could have gone much worse.

      Chapter 4

      Quinn was an actress. A black actress, no less. She was used to rejection. The last few months, she had taken two steps into audition rooms and been told, “Thanks, but no thanks,” before she even had opened her mouth. But, Beatrice Granger could give Hollywood casting agents a run for their money. In just a few short words, she had made Quinn feel really small.

      Quinn turned to Wyatt. The sympathy in his eyes actually made her want to crawl into his arms and just be near his warmth.

      “I’m sorry,” he said.

      Quinn’s world collapsed to Wyatt’s mouth as