Quinn's Woman. Susan Mallery

mouth turned up at the corners. “I almost never behave.”

      “Why is that not a surprise?”

      She reached behind her and clicked off the lantern, then shifted close to him. But somehow he’d managed to move just enough so that when she lowered her head, she found it resting on his shoulder.

      Her first instinct was to bolt for safety. Because she didn’t want him to know she was rattled, she forced herself to stay in place. A few minutes later, her apprehension faded. Quinn was tied up; she was safe.

      She deliberately concentrated on slowing her breathing. After a few more minutes she became aware of the not-unpleasant masculine scent of his body. He generated plenty of heat, and she found herself relaxing.

      “This is nice,” he said into the darkness.

      “Hmm.”

      “Don’t I get a kiss good-night?”

      Her eyes popped open and she stared into the darkness. A kiss? “No.”

      He made a low clucking sound. It took her a second to realize he was trying to imitate a chicken.

      “Oh, yeah, that’s going to work,” she said.

      “You’re tempted,” he said, “but nervous. That’s okay. I understand. I’m a big, handsome hunky guy who turns you on. But you don’t have to be nervous. I’ll be gentle.”

      “You’ll be sucking wind.”

      Obviously, the man didn’t have any self-esteem issues. Although she wasn’t the least bit concerned about her safety, what did make her jittery was the fact that the thought of kissing him was almost appealing.

      “You’re missing out,” he said. “You know, you wouldn’t even have to untie me. You could take advantage of me. I wouldn’t mind.”

      “Shut up and go to sleep.”

      He sighed heavily. “Just one kiss.”

      “No.”

      “There doesn’t have to be any tongue.”

      “Gee, thanks for letting me know.”

      “Come on. You want to. How long will it take? Then we can go to sleep.”

      Despite the craziness of what he was saying, D.J. found herself reaching for the lantern and clicking it on.

      “You’re getting on my nerves,” she said.

      Quinn puckered his lips like a man imitating a fish. She couldn’t help chuckling.

      He was big, dangerous, probably trained to kill and he made her laugh. What was wrong with this picture?

      She sighed. “I want your word that you’ll be quiet and go to sleep. No more conversation, no more requests.”

      “I’d cross my heart, but I’m a little tied up right now.”

      “Was that a yes?”

      “Yes.”

      She leaned close. One kiss, she told herself. Just a quick peck good-night. It didn’t mean anything. She wouldn’t let it. She was just doing this to shut him up—not because she was the least bit…interested.

      Her mouth barely touched his. There was the same flash of heat she’d experienced when her fingers had brushed his lips, and a tightening low in her belly. She braced herself for an aggressive response from him, but he didn’t move. She wasn’t even sure he was breathing.

      Slowly she pressed a little harder. Not exactly deepening the kiss, but not ending it, either. Something warm and liquid poured through her. It made her thinking fuzzy and her body relax. It made her—

      Panic surged as she realized she was actually enjoying the close contact. Temptation, desire, need were all too risky. Too dangerous. She knew better. She’d spent her entire life knowing better.

      But she wouldn’t let him know she was rattled. Instead of jerking her head back, she broke the kiss slowly, then opened her eyes.

      She braced herself for a verbal slam, but Quinn only smiled. Not a victorious smile, but one that said they’d shared something intimate.

      No they hadn’t, she thought as she turned off the lantern and settled onto the tarp. They’d kissed. So what? People kissed all the time. It didn’t mean anything. It never had. She wouldn’t let it.

      Chapter Three

      Quinn awakened sometime before dawn. He recognized the gray light outside the main flap of the large military-issue tent, then he stretched on the cot. The makeshift bed was a hell of a lot more comfortable than the tarp where he’d spent the first part of the night. Of course, then he’d had a sleeping companion. He’d traded the company of an intriguing and beautiful woman for comfort. Not much of a trade.

      Memories of the previous evening made him smile. When D.J. woke up and saw he’d escaped, she was going to be spitting nails. Too bad he would miss the show. At least he knew she would come looking for him at camp, demanding to know how he’d done it. He’d made sure of that by leaving his cut ropes coiled up neatly beside her. The message was clear—he’d escaped and he’d had a knife that she’d missed. No way would she be able to resist a challenge like that.

      Fifteen minutes later he was sipping coffee at one of the tables in the mess tent. He’d spread out the morning paper, but instead of reading, he was watching the main entrance, waiting for a tall, shapely brunette to burst inside and demand an explanation…not to mention retribution.

      Instead he saw his brother stroll in. Gage looked around him, saw him and started across the dirt floor.

      “You made it,” Gage said, and grinned.

      Quinn rose and they shook hands, then embraced briefly. After slapping each other on the back and reassuring themselves that each had survived and was well since their last meeting, Quinn glanced at the man who had accompanied Gage.

      His brother stepped back. “This is Travis Haynes. He’s the local sheriff here.”

      Quinn shook hands with the man, then frowned when he realized there was something familiar about him. He was sure he and Travis Haynes had never met; Quinn didn’t forget faces. Yet there was something that teased at the back of his mind…almost a memory, but not quite.

      Travis looked him over, then shook his head. “I’ll be damned,” he said, then motioned to the table. “We should probably sit down and talk this over.”

      Curious but not concerned, Quinn settled back in his chair. Gage took a seat across from him with Travis sitting to his right. Gage rested his forearms on the table.

      “You’re doing okay?” he asked Quinn.

      Quinn sipped his coffee. “You have something to say, so say it.”

      Gage nodded. “I just—”

      Travis leaned forward. “I should go. After you two talk we can all get together.”

      “No.” Gage shook his head. “Stay. This concerns you. Besides, if Quinn has some questions, you’re the best one to answer them.” He returned his attention to Quinn. “Sorry to be so mysterious. I didn’t want to tell you in a phone message or a letter. I appreciate you coming here.”

      Quinn shrugged. His work kept him out of touch with his family for months at a time. Their only way to communicate was to leave a message at a special number and wait for him to get back to them. Sometimes he was able to respond in a few days, but most of time it was weeks or months. Gage had left his first message nearly two months ago. His second, requesting Quinn meet him in Glenwood, had been delivered just as Quinn had returned to the States.

      “Have you talked to Mom?” Gage asked.

      “A couple of days ago. She said everything was fine.” He frowned. Had she been hiding something?