The Mighty Quinns: Dermot-Dex. Kate Hoffmann

I was in high school. I was a good girl.”

      “Well, maybe you should give it a try now.”

      “And maybe you could take me to the homecoming dance, too,” she teased.

      “I never went to a high school dance,” he said. “That would be fun.”

      She seemed surprised by his admission. “You never went to a dance? I find that hard to believe.”

      “Kieran and I really didn’t do a whole lot at school. We spent most of our free time working at my grandfather’s boatyard. We built a racing sloop junior year of high school, and then senior year, we spent every weekend tearing up and down the sound.” He wove his fingers through hers. “Now, if you had gone to our high school, I might have asked you to a dance. Or taken you out on our boat.”

      “You never would have noticed me,” she said. “I used to just blend into the walls. I was very plain and very shy. I was the girl with the pencil case. I used to carry all my colored pencils around in this plastic case with a little handle. It kind of became my thing. I was odd.”

      “All right. Maybe I wouldn’t have asked you out.”

      She reached over and dabbed a bit of ice cream on the end of his nose. “See. I like it when you’re honest with me.”

      Dermot stared at her for a long moment. He’d been completely honest with her. She was the one who didn’t believe him. God, she was the most beautiful, exasperating, exciting woman he’d ever known, and every day that they spent together, she grew more beautiful. He lived for her smile and her laugh and the way her eyes lit up when they spoke.

      “Would you like to hear another truth?” he asked.

      “First you need to clean the ice cream off the end of your nose.”

      “You do that,” he said.

      When she leaned into him, he caught her by surprise, kissing her again. “Here’s a truth,” he murmured. “I like you a whole lot, Rachel Howe. And if I’m not careful, I might fall in love with you.”

      Her breath caught in her throat and she stared at him, wide-eyed. “I like you, too,” she said.

      It felt good to say those words out loud. And he didn’t care if all they shared was the occasional kiss from now until he left. He was satisfied just to sit next to her and talk.

      He had eighteen days left to figure this all out. It didn’t seem like a lot of time, but for the two of them, it would have to be enough.

      SLEEP WAS IMPOSSIBLE. Rachel stared at the ceiling of her bedroom and groaned softly. The heat made her skin sticky and her hair damp. Even the fan in the window didn’t provide any relief. But she knew it wasn’t the heat. It was Dermot.

      Her mind was spinning, a tangle of thoughts she just couldn’t seem to sort out. She’d left him at the door a few hours before, determined not to let a few delicious kisses rock her resolve to put distance between them.

      Was it so difficult for him to understand? She was only trying to protect herself from the hurt that would eventually come. Surely he could see that she was growing far too dependent on him.

      It would be so easy to fall in love, to believe that he was some white knight come to rescue her from all her problems. With a partner, she could keep the farm, she could have time to do her work as an artist, she could honor the promise she made to her father. Everything would fall into place so neatly.

      But was she idealizing what they shared because she needed him to make her life easier? Or was she feeling a connection that was meant to last a lifetime? Rachel had thought she’d found love in the past and she’d been proved wrong. So what made her think this was the real thing—and after only three weeks together?

      With a soft curse, she sat up and raked her hands through her tangled hair. This was crazy! No matter what she did, she was going to get hurt. Even now, the thought of falling asleep without him brought a lonely ache to her heart.

      He was a wonderful man, kind and compassionate, patient and concerned, so incredibly sexy. Exactly the sort of man she could see herself loving for the rest of her life. But was she in love or just caught up in the possibility of love?

      Her stomach growled. Maybe if she made herself a snack she’d be able to sleep. Rachel rolled out of bed and walked downstairs. The kitchen was dark and she pulled open the refrigerator door and let the cool air rush out.

      The pitcher of lemonade looked appealing and she set it on the counter, then pulled out a package of string cheese. She found a glass and a plate and added a few crackers, then carried the food out to the porch.

      After living in the heart of Chicago, she was always amazed at how silent the world could be. It almost hurt her ears to search for a noise. A dog barked in the distance, the sound traveling in the still air.

      “Can’t sleep?”

      The sound of his voice startled her. He sat on one of the wicker chairs at the end of the porch. He was wearing just his boxers, his bare feet resting on the porch rail, a bottle of beer in his hand.

      “You scared me.”

      “Sorry. I came over to get something to drink. It’s so hot I can’t sleep.”

      The sky flashed. “Heat lightning. I don’t think it’s going to cool down.”

      She held out the plate to him as she sat down, and he took a piece of string cheese. “I have to get some of this to take home with me,” he said.

      “You can probably get it in Seattle,” she said. “You just haven’t looked for it.”

      He took a bite, then a sip of his beer. “You know what I’d like to do? For the next seventeen days, I’d like to forget that I’m leaving. I’d like to pretend that the bus ticket I have back to Seattle doesn’t exist. I’d like to just live each day without thinking about the next.”

      “That might be difficult to do,” Rachel said.

      “Why can’t we do what feels right?” he said. “Why do we have to deny ourselves?”

      Rachel’s breath caught in her throat and she quickly drew another. Why? Was it really going to change anything? It wouldn’t lessen the loneliness she’d feel after he left, so why bother to protect herself?

      He was right. She could deal with the pain when it came. But until then, she’d revel in the passion that this man had brought into her life. “All right,” she said. “But you have to promise me something.”

      “Anything,” Dermot said.

      “When it comes time to leave, you’ll just go. You’ll walk away and there won’t be any long goodbyes or promises that we’ll see each other again. You’ll just disappear and not come back.”

      “Rachel, I—”

      “Those are my terms,” she said.

      He considered her offer, then nodded. “All right. I can live with that.”

      Rachel set the snack down on the small table between the wicker chairs, then slowly stood. She walked to his chair and, straddling his legs, sat down on his lap. “I think I want you to kiss me now.”

      Dermot stared up at her, then reached to touch her breast. He cupped her warm flesh, running his thumb over her nipple until it became a stiff peak beneath the thin cotton of her nightgown. He smoothed his hand along her hip, his fingers soft and teasing.

      Rachel could feel his hard shaft between them, straining against the front of his boxers. When he was with her, it never took much for Dermot to get aroused. Rachel had never had that power with a man before. There was a certain satisfaction in knowing that she could have Dermot whenever she wanted him, that he would be there, ready and willing to fulfill her every need. Dermot moaned softly as she reached between them and wrapped her fingers around his heat.

      Already, his body