Her Christmas Hero (11 page)

When a lady named Gail showed up, Britt was surprised at her reaction. She'd been expecting Quinn and was disappointed. How big a fool could she be? She had a knack for falling for the wrong men. Quentin Ross wasn't the man for her. He wasn't her hero.

But, oh, her heart wanted him to be.

Quinn wasn't there on Thursday, either.

Britt knew it was for the best, but she couldn't stop thinking about him or looking for him on Sunday. Gail arrived as usual.

It irked Britt that someone had to watch her while Dillon was with her. But Gail was very respectful of Britt's time with Dillon. She stayed out of the way, reading the paper, doing crossword puzzles or working on her laptop.

Britt had invited her mother and grandmother for lunch, be cause they wanted to see Dillon so desperately. Carin and Onnie cooked in her kitchen, and Dillon was happy, chattering and playing. It came to an end too soon. Dillon gave hugs and kisses as the two women left. Britt held on to him, bracing herself for when, once again, she'd have to let him go.

She was playing patty-cake with Dillon when her doorbell rang. It was too early for the nanny. Could it be Phil? A chill crawled across her skin.

Taking a deep breath, she walked toward the door.

Holding Dillon, she glanced through the peephole and smiled.

Quinn.

Her heart fluttered with excitement.
Fool
rang through her head with vivid clarity, but she ignored that annoying little voice for now.

She opened the door. “Quinn, what are you doing here?”

In jeans and a leather jacket, he looked rugged, handsome and bad. Bad for her.

“I came so Gail could leave early.” He walked inside. “I meant to get here earlier but I got sidetracked at my sister's.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Ross.” Gail gathered her things and was gone.

Quinn followed Britt into the living room. She sat on the carpet with Dillon and Quinn took a seat on the sofa.

“It's really annoying to have someone here to watch me,” she told him.

“Sorry, it's the judge's ruling,” he replied, removing his jack et. “Other than that how's it going?”

“Okay. Mom and Onnie came today and Dillon was so glad to see them.” Dillon crawled to his toys on the floor
and picked up a small NERF ball and threw it to her. It landed at her feet. She threw it back to him.

“How are you?” Quinn's eyes held hers and she found it hard to look away. How did he do that—trigger all her feminine emotions with just a glance?

“I'm better. I'm not so angry.”

“Does that mean you're not so angry at me anymore?”

Instead of answering, she replied, “Mona said you didn't throw up any roadblocks at the meeting with the judge. I'm grateful for that—grateful to have Dillon home.”

“That's where he should be.”

She stared at him. “You're an enigma, Quentin Ross. I never know when you're serious.”

Dillon threw the ball again and it landed on the coffee table in front of Quinn. He picked it up and held it out to the toddler. “You want it? Come get it.”

Dillon glanced at Britt and then at Quinn. Clearly, he was undecided whether to trust this strange man.
Yes, you can
soared through Britt's mind like words from a well-loved hymn. After all that had happened, she still trusted Quinn.

And she trusted him with Dillon.

She was either the biggest fool who had ever lived or she was a romantic to the core who believed in love. As she let the thought simmer in her head she had to admit a hard truth. She had feelings for Quinn.

But they could never go anywhere.

Dillon shot across the floor and reached with one hand to get the ball. Sitting back on his butt, he chewed on it, his eyes on Quinn. Then he crawled over and handed Quinn the ball. In a second he took it back. They did this over and over, and Britt was amazed at Quinn's patience. Finally, Quinn threw it across the room. Dillon squealed and crawled after
it, retrieving the ball and carrying it back to Quinn. It was plain to see that Quinn had a rapport with kids.

The doorbell interrupted them.

Britt rose to her feet. “Oh, my. I forgot the time. It has to be the nanny.”

“I'll get the door,” Quinn offered, “while you get Dillon ready.”

Britt changed Dillon's diaper and bundled him in his coat. “Debi's here,” she said to him, trying to prepare him for what was going to happen. “You like Debi.” In the living room she kissed him. “Mommy will see you on Tues day.”

“I'll take very good care of him,” Debi said as she took him. Dillon's bottom lip trembled and he whined.

Britt kissed him again. “Mommy loves you, Dilly bear.”

Debi quickly left and Britt wrapped her arms around her waist. This didn't get any easier. She felt as if her heart were being ripped out each time. She brushed away an errant tear.

“Are you okay?”

She swung toward the voice, having forgotten that Quinn was still in the room. “You should go, too,” she said instead of answering, and the tension was back. The tension that re minded her Quinn was Phil's lawyer.

Quinn noted the sadness on her face and his gut twisted. “I'd like to talk to you.”

“About what?” She wiped away another tear.

“Your marriage to Phil.”

“Why?” Her eyes narrowed. “So you can use it against me in court?”

“No. I'd just like to hear your side of the story.”

“Why?” she asked again.

“Just trust me.” For a moment he thought she was going
to tell him to go to hell, but the leeriness left her eyes and she walked into the living room and sat down.

Great. He wanted her to trust him again.

He resumed his seat on the sofa and looked around the apartment. This was Britt, from the comfy sofa and chair to the serene landscapes on the wall to the toys strewn around the room. It was comfortable. It was home.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “How long were you married to Phil?”

She curled up in the chair. “Barely six months.”

“What happened?”

She tucked her dark hair behind her ears, her eyes troubled. “We argued a lot about my job. After we were married, he assumed I would quit. But I didn't. I couldn't see my self sitting in that big condo all day waiting for him to come home. The arguments escalated. We had a really bad one before I was scheduled to leave for four days. On the way to the airport my supervisor called. The flight had been canceled. At that moment I decided I couldn't keep up the constant arguing. I told my supervisor about my situation and quit my job. I felt better after I made that decision. I had to make my marriage work. I stopped for groceries, planning a special dinner for Phil.”

She had a pained look on her face, as if she was reliving that time. “I'd just found out I was pregnant, and I was going to tell Phil that morning, but we'd argued instead. So I planned this big happy evening.”

She stopped talking.

“What happened?” he coaxed.

“When I walked into the condo, I could hear music. Puzzled, I didn't even put the groceries down. I went straight up to the bedroom.” She took a long breath. “Phil was there with a blonde in our bed. They were naked and wrapped around each other. Drug paraphernalia was on
the nightstand. I was so shocked I dropped the groceries on the hardwood floor. The sound alerted them and Phil saw me. I ran, but he caught me at the door and said it was nothing, just something he did for stress.”

The anguish in her voice weakened Quinn's defenses and he wanted to go to her, hold her and tell her all men weren't like that. He had to keep his distance, though. But he knew without a doubt the groceries on the floor were the ones in the photo—the picture Phil used to say Britt had trashed the condo.

“What happened next?”

“I left and filed for divorce the next day.”

“Did you ever go back?”

“I went back to get my things when I knew Phil wasn't there, but he came home with the blonde as I was leaving. He wanted to talk and I said no way. He became angry and asked for my key, saying I couldn't take anything out of the apartment without his permission. I threw my clothes at him and left, and I haven't been back until last Sunday.”

The clothes on the floor. The supposed second trashing. Phil was making up evidence, and if he thought Quinn would go into a courtroom with that kind of bogus proof he was highly mistaken. And so was Philip Sr.

Quinn cleared his throat. “And Phil let the divorce go through?”

“Not without a lot of threats. Then he found out about the baby and he repeatedly said he would make me pay.” She sighed. “I guess he is.”

“Do you have any feelings for Phil?” Somehow Quinn had to ask that question.

Her eyes flew to his. “Hatred. Disgust. Do those count?”

“I meant love.”

She swung her feet to the floor. “I had my head in the
clouds and I believed that he really loved me. How naive could I be?”

“It's called trusting.”

Her dark eyes flared. “I'm good at trusting the wrong men.”

“Oh, that stings.” Quinn held a hand to his chest.

“It should.” A grin played on her lips and that light in her eyes was mesmerizing.

He cleared his throat again. “I better go.” As he stood, he reached down and picked up the ball and handed it to her. His eyes holding hers, he added, “Trust me, Britt. Do you think you can do that?”

She stood, her eyes never leaving his. “You're Phil's attorney.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You're asking the impossible.”

Unable to stop himself, he cupped her face and took her lips gently, tasting, cajoling. The scent of baby powder lingered on her skin and she tasted like the banana she'd fed Dillon. Quinn was drowning in the sweetness of her. Drawing circles on her cheeks with his thumbs, he traced her bottom lip with his tongue and she moaned, igniting a flame deep inside him. She opened her mouth and a new discovery, new emotions took over—powerful, explosive feelings that bound them closer than a flooding creek.

She drew back, her lips red and her eyes bright. “That might be an ethical violation.”

“Yeah.” He ran both hands through his hair. “I've been wanting to do that for a long time.”

“You shouldn't. We shouldn't.”

He reached for his jacket, just to do something with his hands besides touch her. “That's the trouble with emotions. They don't have a schedule. They just happen.”

“Quinn…”

He touched her lips with his finger, not wanting to hear what she had to say because he knew it wasn't going to be in his favor. “Trust me, Britt. That's all I'm asking.” Saying that, he made himself leave.
Trust me.

Britt stood with her fingers touching her mouth, remembering the feel of those male lips on hers—firm, yet soft and tantalizing, awakening feelings in her that she'd kept dormant. After being hurt so badly she had to be on guard, but Quinn demolished her well-established guard with just one knee-wobbling, heart-thumping kiss.

Trust me.

How could she do that?

In her heart she knew she already had.

 

T
HE NEXT MORNING
P
HIL
stormed into Quinn's office before Quinn had finished his first cup of coffee.

“What the hell's going on?” Phil demanded.

Quinn waved Denise out the door. Evidently Phil had rushed past her. “What are you talking about?”

“The nanny now has to deliver the kid to Roslyn. How the hell did that happen?”

Quinn leaned back. “I called. My secretary phoned, but you never answered or returned the calls. How am I sup posed to get in touch with you?”

Some of the anger oozed out of Phil. “I was busy. I figured you could handle whatever came up.”

“I did. After your rude behavior, Ms. Tibbs asked the judge to reconsider her decision about where Ms. Davis could see her son. The judge asked if I could guarantee that you wouldn't do it again and I had to be honest, so she changed the ruling.”

“You bastard.”

Quinn's eyes zeroed in on Phil's red face. “Haven't you been home since Sunday before last?”

“Of course I have,” Phil snapped.

But he paused, and that bothered Quinn. Was the man out doing drugs? Was Dillon in any danger?

“Then why the outrage now?”

“I've been working on a case and this is my first chance to get here. It just pisses me off that I have to pay a nanny to carry my son to his mother and pick him up.”

Quinn leaned forward, his forearms on the desk. “Well, it pisses me off that one of my staff has to work on Sunday. That means I'm a person short on Monday and a half a day on Tuesdays and Thursdays. This whole thing is ridiculous and needs to be changed. Don't you agree?”

“Yeah, but that's the judge's ruling.”

Quinn had Phil's attention and he was going to milk it for all it was worth. “I was thinking of a tracking device for Ms. Davis so we'll know where she is at all times. That would free up my people.”

Phil's eyes lit up. “I like that. If she's tracked at all times, she won't be able to flee the States with Dillon, and I can pull my P.I. off her.”

“Why do you have a P.I. watching her?”

“I want to know who she's seeing, when and where. But it's proved to be throwing money down the drain.”

“Then get rid of him.”

Phil pointed a finger at him. “You make sure she doesn't leave Austin.”

Quinn nodded. “You'll still have to pay for the nanny.”

“It'll be worth it. In three months Roslyn will fold like a greenhorn poker player and everything will go my way.”

You sorry bastard.

Phil pointed his finger again and Quinn wanted to slap
him in the face. “Daddy's not going to be pleased at this turn of events.”

“Daddy knows where to find me.”

“Don't push him, Quinn,” Phil threatened. “You'll regret it.”

Quinn watched him leave with a steely eyed gaze.
It's only beginning, old friend.

He touched a button on his phone. “Denise, tell Levi I want to see him as soon as possible.”

A lot of things were going to change, and the action start ed now.

 

O
N
T
UESDAY MORNING
Quinn met Mona in the judge's chamber once again.

“What's this about?” Mona asked. “I just got a call to be here.”

Judge Norcutt came in, preventing him from answering. Not that he planned to, anyway.

The judge sat down and adjusted her glasses. “I'm getting tired of rescheduling my day to suit you two. What is it, Mr. Ross?” She clearly was irritated.

He opened his briefcase, pulled out the item Levi had given him and placed it on the desk in front of her. “This is a tracking device, Your Honor.”

“Why are you showing me this?” Her voice dropped from irritated to sub-zero infuriated.

“Your Honor, having a member of my staff off a whole day and two half days is putting a strain on my office. I need my staff at work, not babysitting.”