Her Baby Secret

She wasn’t sure which was the worse, coping with her own weak, lustful reaction to the distracting sight of Quinn’s powerful torso or coping with the knowledge that the other women present were leching over his smooth olive flesh and sculpted muscles too.

She didn’t pause to consider the consequences of her impulsive actions—around Quinn that happened to her a lot—the urgent need to shield him from their lascivious eyes was just too strong to resist.

Actually the three other women were no longer looking at Quinn at all; they were too fascinated by the sight of their cool, composed editor desperately pressing a crumpled white cotton shirt protectively against the dark, hair-roughened chest of the tall, gorgeous man.

‘I suppose you think this is funny?’ she hissed. The physical contact had been a big mistake! For starters, being this close she couldn’t avoid breathing in the warm, male, distinctly Quinn scent of his body—it had a dizzy, addictive quality.

‘I don’t know how you got here, or why you’re here…’ she huffed, tears of angry frustration springing into her blue eyes as Quinn stood there totally impassive while she attempted to cover him up. She was struggling with all manner of insane urges, most of which involved plastering herself against him. ‘I take that back; you obviously came here to humiliate me!’ she accused wildly.

As if I need any help!

Quinn responded with a quirk of one dark brow and a cynical twist of his sensual lips.

‘You know exactly why I’m here, Rowena.’ Threat, promise and warning, his deep voice held all three.

She stood by helplessly, her insides quivering as he took the shirt from her shaky hands and in a fluid motion pulled it over his head. He slid it into place, tucking it into the narrow waistband of his trousers.

What was he trying to do to her? Those leather trousers left nothing whatever to the imagination; they showed off every inch of his long, powerful thighs. Rowena tried to avert her eyes, but the glint of dull silver caught her eye and held it.

It was the same silver engraved buckle he’d been wearing that night, the night that she had unclipped it with trembling fingers. He’d taken her hand and pressed it against…don’t go there, Rowena! she warned herself frantically.

Too late! Erotic images complete with taste and touch and smell rose up in her head. His smoothly textured olive-toned skin covered in a fine layer of sweat…the raw rasp in his voice that had reduced her to a compliant, quivering heap of neediness…the unbelievable combination of triumph and tenderness on his face as he’d responded to her pleas and thrust powerfully up into her body, filling and stretching every part of her…

Hand pressed flat against her heaving bosom, she fought for breath, and a semblance of composure. The stabbing sexual desire that hit her was so tangible it was like walking into a solid wall of heat. She could feel the cold trickle of sweat as it slid damply down her back.

Quinn’s slanted eyebrows quirked as he smoothed down the white fabric over his flat, leanly muscled midriff. ‘Happy now?’

The action had mussed up his thick dark hair and without thinking Rowena reached up to smooth down his tousled locks. Her antagonism faded for a moment as her fingertips sank into his hair and brushed against his scalp.

She realised the implied intimacy of her thoughtless action at the same moment Quinn’s head jerked back, the violent rejection making her lift her hurt eyes to his.

For a split second their glances collided before Quinn’s heavy lids came downwards, veiling his expression. Rowena had seen enough in that moment’s scorching contact to turn her insides hotly molten.

Their long-standing relationship had always been the sort where such innocent gestures were not misread. Well, news flash! Things had changed—big time!

But when had they started to change…?

CHAPTER TWO

AS SHE’D gone over the events in her head that had led to their becoming lovers Rowena had tried time after time to work it out, but she hadn’t been able to pinpoint the exact moment that friendship had become something else.

It had begun before her short stint at the New York office, which the powers that be had deemed essential for someone about to take over the running of the London end of the operation. Rowena had needed an escort for a big charity bash and Quinn, who had just accepted a senior post at a major teaching hospital in the city, had stepped in at the last minute.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t noticed, but after knowing him for so long Rowena took his spectacular looks for granted. The admiring glances he’d received that night, not to mention the envious comments she’d received from friends and acquaintances, had brought home to her just what a gorgeous creature he was.

It had been a good night—no, better than good—Quinn had a way of making his companion feel very special. He was also a great dancer, and an even better conversation-alist—he had a dry wit and a clever tongue that had had her laughing half the night. She’d laughed so much that several acquaintances had commented on the fact, which had made Rowena wonder—for about two seconds—if she didn’t take things a little too seriously as a rule.

‘You were a big hit,’ she told him when he dropped her off at her flat in the early hours. Head against the back-rest, she yawned and fished around for the shoes she’d slipped off her aching feet when she’d got into Quinn’s Jaguar.

Quinn inclined his dark head. ‘We aim to please.’

‘So now I know how you manage to captivate all those women.’ Quinn worked hard, but he played hard too. He had a taste for fast cars, motorbikes and beautiful women, but no staying power with the latter as far as Rowena could tell—not that she held this against him.

Perhaps like her he was married to his career, or maybe he hadn’t met the right girl yet…The fleeting thought made her feel vaguely dissatisfied.

‘If I didn’t know you so well,’ she teased him, adjusting the strap on her kitten-heeled sling-back, ‘I might even make a pass at you myself.’

For what felt like a long time he looked at her, his expression enigmatic. ‘Is that all that’s stopping you?’

Rowena’s smile didn’t make it past the starting-post—there was no shadow of humour in his face, just a taut, dangerous expression that made the nerve endings deep inside her stomach tortuously flutter with excitement.

She couldn’t remember what she’d said to fill the awkward lingering silence that had followed, but she knew his contribution had been nil. He’d just sat there and let her babble like an idiot.

One thing she did recall, very well indeed as it happened, was how it had felt when his arm had brushed against her breasts as he’d stretched over to open the car door for her. She had been mortified, not to mention confused, when her nipples had responded instantaneously to the brief contact. She had prayed he hadn’t noticed them thrusting brazenly through the thin fabric of her bodice as she’d slid with a hastily mumbled thank-you from the car.

There had been no legitimate reason to refuse the series of invites that had followed—after all they were friends, and there was nothing wrong, she had told herself, with having a meal with a friend, or going to the theatre. As for walking by the river in the rain, what could be a more innocuous way to spend an evening?

Quinn’s behaviour had given her no cause for complaint; there had been no repeat of that electric moment in the car. No, he had acted like the perfect gentleman despite the fact that she, for some perverse reason, had gone out of her way to recreate the moment—maybe it had been just to convince herself it had actually happened…?

Letting her hand linger longer than strictly necessary on his arm or knee, a lot more eye contact than was normal between them, making sure he’d been able to see her very excellent legs when she’d sat opposite him. Nothing too heavy or obvious; at least that was what she’d thought until one night, sitting in her flat after having been out for dinner, Quinn had bluntly demanded an explanation.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she blustered. ‘I’m not playing at anything.’

He dragged an unsteady hand through his thick hair. ‘Well, whatever that nothing is you’re doing, it’s driving me crazy.’ His green eyes came to rest on her face. ‘You’re driving me crazy.’

‘I am?’ she exclaimed, unable to hide her pleasure. ‘You’d never have known,’ she added with a condemnatory frown.

After a startled moment Quinn began to laugh. It was such a warm, uninhibited sound she couldn’t bring herself to be cross with him.

‘Well, if you must know, I’m quite attracted to you,’ she divulged bluntly. ‘The idea takes some getting used to…’ With a hint of bravado she raised her eyes and saw it was Quinn’s turn to look pleased—and relief rushed through her. It would have been too embarrassing if she’d been reading the wrong messages.

‘I think,’ he replied huskily, ‘that it might be worth the effort.’

Mesmerised by the stark hunger in his darkly lashed eyes, she felt her knees start to tremble. Her heart was battering against her ribcage like a sledgehammer.

He would be an excellent kisser—with a mouth like that how could he not be? she reasoned, allowing her gaze to rest dreamily on that stern, sensual outline. The idea of putting her theory to the test had her literally trembling with anticipation.

‘You don’t think it’s too silly an idea, then,’ she gasped, feeling a bit light-headed with relief—well, maybe relief wasn’t solely responsible for that strange but marvellous floaty feeling.

Quinn took the wilful curve of her jaw in his hand, his fingers stroking the smooth skin of her throat. The touch was so gentle and his strength was so formidable that Rowena found the contrast deeply exciting. ‘Not silly at all,’ he replied.

His deep, husky voice sent tiny shivers up and down her spine. ‘I knew you’d understand—you being not exactly big on the whole commitment thing.’ Rowena was so relieved that she hardly registered the wary expression that flickered into his eyes. ‘I mean, neither of us have the time to lavish on a proper relationship, do we?’ she told him happily. ‘With that whole pet name, flowers, and plans for the future stuff. Most of all the plans for the future,’ she added with a heartfelt shudder. ‘But we all have…needs.’ It was probably ignoring hers that was responsible for her present distracted condition. ‘I think I should be honest with you.’

‘By all means be honest,’ Quinn responded drily.

Rowena nodded, glad they were in accord. Quinn had let go of her chin and she wished he hadn’t. She wondered if it would be quite acceptable for her to take the initiative and touch him…? God, but she wanted to, she thought, her eyes running covetously over his lean frame.

‘Of course I’ve tried sex, but, I’ve got to admit, it wasn’t an unqualified success. To be quite honest,’ she added, the words coming in a rush, ‘I’m terrible at it, but I’m willing to learn.’

She heard the stark sound of his inhalation and wished she’d not been quite so frank, but it was true: sexually she was what was popularly termed frigid. The first time might have been put down to inexperience, but the second time had been a full five years later, and though her lover—an attractive, experienced man she’d liked a lot—had been perfectly polite, she’d been able to tell he’d been in no hurry to repeat the experience, and actually neither had she. Since then she’d been able to channel her energies into her work—until Quinn.

‘Let me get this straight—you want me for sex and nothing else.’

His low, very quiet tone sent a quiver of apprehension up her spine. Anxiously she searched his face but it was impossible to read anything from his enigmatic expression.

‘Well, I wouldn’t put it like that exactly.’

‘Well, I would!’ he yelled suddenly. ‘I’d put it exactly like that. I’ve heard you called callous, Rowena. I’ve heard you called a cold, calculating bitch.’

Rowena flinched. It was a tired old sexist line that she’d heard many times before and it never failed to make her mad as hell—it hadn’t hurt as it did hearing Quinn say it, though. It was nonsense, of course—a man who shared the qualities that made her good at what she did would have been universally admired for his skill, but not her. No, she was female so that automatically made her as hard as nails.

‘And I’ve always stuck up for you, but I’m beginning to see how much you’ve changed since the old days!’ he blazed. ‘Sex isn’t something you schedule like a finance meeting.’

Rowena listened to his diatribe in stunned silence. ‘I didn’t mean…I had no intention of insulting you, I just wanted to be upfront, Quinn.’

‘I’m slow,’ he reflected with a bitter smile, ‘but not that slow. I don’t need a diagram to tell me what you want.’ At some level he was aware that he was overreacting—after all, he’d been propositioned before.

Quinn’s scornful sneer reawakened her temper. ‘I have to tell you, Quinn, I find all this righteous outrage at being treated like a sex object just a tad hypocritical coming from you of all people. I mean, a man with a track record like yours hardly screams commitment, does he? Or don’t you like it when someone turns the table on you? The way you’re going on anyone would think you wanted a serious relationship or something…’ She saw his face and her eyes widened. ‘Good god!’ she gasped, horrified. ‘You didn’t, did you…?’ She laughed in what was pure nervous disbelief, but he could hardly be expected to know that.

‘I’ve been accused of being shallow in my time…’ His voice had dropped to a soft, menacing whisper, but Rowena was in no mood to be intimidated.

‘I can’t imagine why,’ she muttered belligerently.

The glacial flicker of his long-lashed eyes silenced her. ‘But it would seem I’m an amateur compared to you.’

‘The way I hear it you get by,’ she retorted childishly.

‘Then maybe you hear it wrong,’ he cut back in a chilly voice. ‘I may not be able to match your clinical objectivity, but I’m not totally unrealistic. I accept that some relationships are never going to go anywhere, but they’re fun anyway. I’ve been there and done that, but not as often as you seem to think.’

Rowena hardly noticed this dry postscript; she was too busy dwelling on the lurid images drifting around in her head of Quinn having fun. She actually felt quite unwell—she’d had doubts about that lobster.

‘Part of the excitement of entering a relationship is not knowing where it’s going.’

Diverted by this peculiar viewpoint, Rowena forgot momentarily about the sick churning in her stomach. Personally Rowena always liked to know exactly where she was going.

‘The exploration,’ Quinn expanded forcibly. ‘The wondering whether it might lead somewhere, whether she might be the one.’

Rowena’s jaw dropped—it was something of a revelation to learn that Quinn believed there was such a thing as the one. Let alone discover he was actively looking for her. Boy, had she got Quinn wrong—the man was a romantic!

‘With you there would be no wondering, we’d both know exactly where we were going—nowhere!’ he continued.

Rowena’s chin came up. She didn’t much care for that combination of pity and contempt on his face. It was pretty obvious there was no point suggesting they went nowhere together.

‘Let’s call it crossed wires,’ she suggested with an easy-come, easy-go shrug. Rowena had her pride and she didn’t want him to guess how disappointed, mortified and frustrated she was by his rejection.

His own shrug was just as untroubled and dismissive.

Dragging her thoughts kicking and screaming back to the present, Rowena slid a wary, half-defiant look in the direction of her staff.

Their expressions were respectful enough now but Rowena wasn’t fool enough to imagine that this situation would last for two seconds once she was out of the door. She hadn’t gained her hard-nosed, cool-headed reputation by accident and now in two seconds flat she’d blown her cover wide open.

‘Happy? Hardly,’ she snapped venomously, fixing Quinn with a look of loathing. ‘Well, if you’ll excuse us, Quinn was just leaving.’ Clinging to the tattered shreds of her dignity and trying to show she was still in charge, Rowena shoved Quinn’s jacket at him and nodded imperiously in the direction of the door.

‘So soon,’ Quinn bemoaned sarcastically, throwing his jacket casually over his shoulder. ‘We hadn’t even started talking money yet.’ He waved casually to the three watching women as Rowena, seething with exasperation, grabbed him by the arm.

‘That would be right!’ Rowena flared contemptuously—God, why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut? ‘You always did have your eye on the big bucks, Quinn. Why else go in for plastic surgery?’

‘Perhaps I thought I could make a difference,’ he suggested mildly.

Rowena sniffed, unwilling to admit even to herself that her accusation of avarice had been out of line, not to mention totally inaccurate.

Quinn was considered a world expert in facial reconstructive surgery and, though he did make big money from the high-profile clients who sought him out, Rowena knew he didn’t restrict his expertise to those who could pay for it. The vast bulk of his workload was, and always had been, within the NHS, even though he could have made much more by working exclusively in the private sector. Not that money mattered to Quinn, coming as he did from a wealthy, privileged background.

‘Three-thirty in my office, Sylvia!’ Rowena called, putting a bold face on her unorthodox departure.

The three women exchanged glances as the door closed. ‘I knew I recognised his name…’ Anna cried. ‘He did Lexie Lamont’s new nose, so they say, and I saw him on that telly programme last month—the one about that teenager who got hit in the face by a jet ski.’

Sylvia nodded. ‘I saw it; the girl got all choked up every time she talked about him.’

‘Small wonder!’ Anna exclaimed. ‘Did you see the before picture? She mashed just about every bone in her face to pulp—all he had to go on when he rebuilt it were pictures.’

‘There’s no mistake, then, he’s really a doctor. I suppose it’s lucky we didn’t send the others home,’ her assistant reflected.

A naughty grin appeared on Sylvia’s pretty face. ‘Is it just me or do you get the impression boss lady isn’t too keen on sharing…?’

The explosive sound of laughter was clearly audible to Rowena as she stalked, head held high, from the crowded ante-room crowded with leather-clad clones.

‘I hope you’re satisfied now!’ she gritted to Quinn.

‘Don’t fret, Rowena, I’m sure your ice-cold bitch image can survive worse than this.’

‘I hate you!’ If that were true, how it would simplify matters.

‘I can live with that,’ he lied, increasing his pace to keep up with her. ‘It’s being ignored I’m not so comfortable with,’ he concluded grimly.

‘I’ve heard of men who turn to stalking when they get given the push, but I never thought you’d be one of them, Quinn. If only I’d known then what I know now…’ As if it would have made any difference, a self-derisive voice-over in her head insisted on supplementing.

‘I haven’t been given the push.’

Rowena came to an abrupt halt in front of her PA’s desk. Hands planted on her hips, she swung around, causing her silver-blonde hair to bell around her face before settling down into the loosely tendrilled nape-length style she’d recently adopted.

‘Consider yourself pushed, Quinn.’

Quinn smiled. ‘Like hell I will!’ Ignoring her loudly voiced protests, he placed his hand against her chest and thrust her through the open door of her office. ‘Hold all Ms Parrish’s calls,’ he instructed the startled-looking young woman behind the desk.

‘Call Security, Bernice!’ Rebecca yelled shrilly just before Quinn kicked the door closed. ‘I suppose you think this ridiculous caveman act is impressive!’ she jeered, retreating to the other side of her large desk—the symbol of her authority. Unfortunately it didn’t afford her that warm, in-charge feeling it normally did.

‘If you think spending just one night with me entitles you to behave like this you’re sadly mistaken, not to mention living in the wrong century. As for taking off your clothes—I’m not even going to ask!’ she choked, her nose wrinkling in disgust at the thought of Quinn parading half naked in front of the other women. ‘If I hadn’t come in when I did, heaven knows how far you’d have gone!’

‘And you don’t like that idea?’ Quinn didn’t sound as though her disgust displeased him.

It made her feel sick to the stomach. ‘I hate to spoil your pathetic male fantasies of women fighting over you, but I simply don’t like the idea of you wasting my staff’s time. We have deadlines to meet, you know. How would you like it if I smuggled myself into your hospital and tried to pass myself off as a nurse?’

‘Give me a minute here, I’m just picturing you…Does the uniform have one of those cute frilly caps?’ Rowena didn’t have time to respond to this outrageous piece of sexism before his languid air of mockery vanished, revealing the sort of penetrative expression that made her nostalgic for his irritating mockery of seconds before. ‘What the hell have you been doing to yourself, Rowena?’ He sat down on the edge of her desk and stretched his long legs out in front of him.

‘I had my hair cut.’

‘That’s not what I mean. You’ve lost weight.’

‘Thank you.’

Her hips had always been the envy of her more amply endowed friends, but losing almost a stone in weight during the past few weeks meant that the short skirt she was wearing today no longer clung to her hips, but hung loosely.

‘You look terrible.’

In case I hadn’t got the point, she thought caustically.

‘You don’t lose that sort of weight so quickly unless you’re ill or under a lot of pressure,’ he announced authoritatively.

Her glance slid evasively from his. Did morning sickness count as being ill? ‘Well, thanks for the medical assessment, Doctor, but I’m neither. It’s just too many late nights, and no time to eat.’

‘In fact life’s just one long party.’ He didn’t bother hiding his scepticism.

‘Absolutely,’ she maintained defiantly.

‘Which no doubt accounts for you ignoring my e-mails and phone calls—although that isn’t a problem now, is it? Not since you had all your numbers changed and went ex-directory.’ Rowena watched with an irritated frown as he began to mess up the row of pencils laid out symmetrically on her desk. Looking at his long, clever fingers brought a sudden rush of memories, his fingers dark against her pale breasts. His fingers sliding between…

Rowena caught her full lower lip between her teeth. She resented the fact he was making her behave guiltily. ‘That was pure coincidence,’ she announced with stilted defiance.

He lifted his head, and from beneath the sweep of inky dark lashes looked enquiringly across at her. ‘And is it coincidence that had me made persona non grata at your apartment building?’

Rowena had a firm policy of ignoring things she couldn’t deny and she did so now with a careless toss of her fair head. ‘I’ve only just got back, Quinn. New York was hectic.’ She wished straight off she hadn’t mentioned New York.

She thought of New York and, unlike normal people who had spent any time there, she didn’t associate with the vibrant, alive, noisy, scary, exciting place it was. No, Rowena immediately associated it with Quinn, incredible sex and the frightening consequences of the latter…

‘What about the weekend you came home?’

‘You knew about that?’ Startled, she glanced up to see an expression she couldn’t quite place on his face.

‘Wasn’t I meant to?’

‘It was no secret.’ Recovering a little composure, Rowena managed to continue in a persuasively reasonable tone. ‘I’ve just started a new job. I’ve hardly had time to make contact with every casual acquaintance I have.’ She gulped, but the sound was drowned out by the sibilant hiss of his indrawn breath.