Knock Me Off My Feet (30 page)
They were back at Quinn's now, in his bed, and her heart was full and her body heavy with pleasure. They'd just made love—slow and tender and heartbreakingly intense. And Quinn was right. She'd been very quiet.
Because she was really starting to panic.
At the ballpark, she and Sheila had arranged a Christmas shopping excursion on
Audie reminded herself many times during the day that she was in command of her heart, in command of her life.
But as they were leaving the park, Jamie hugged her tight and told her, "I'm glad my son found you. My only regret is that Trish didn't have a chance to welcome you."
Welcome you?
Oh, crap. Hell. She was in control of nothing, she realized. She had let the situation get completely out of hand.
Why was she making plans with these people? Why was she pretending that she'd still be around in the coming months when in her heart she knew it could never be? Why was she letting it drag on with Quinn when she knew the longer she waited the more it would hurt them both—hurt
everyone?
She felt like such a fake. She felt like a liar.
She brushed her cheek against Quinn's bare chest, the stiff hairs there tickling her neck. She breathed him in—an elixir of summer sweat, soap, and a warm skin that seemed to dull her common sense as it heightened all her other senses, making her press even closer. At that moment, she couldn't seem to get him close enough.
Maybe just once more.
Audie felt Quinn's lips graze the top of her head and his big hands stroke her shoulders and arms. It astonished her that she'd come this far this fast with Quinn and that she was in his bed, wrapped up in his arms, and in his life.
How did she get so wrapped up in this man's life?
Audie tried to stay calm, but despite the deep thump of his heart beneath her cheek, despite the warm, sensual tingle that still spread through her body, she was far from calm.
She slammed her eyes shut and heard a desperate little groan escape from her lungs. She pulled him tighter.
The problem was, she'd allowed herself to need him. And the force of that need brought her the brightest joy and the darkest fear she'd ever known. Because she knew that when she failed with Quinn—like she'd done with every other person in her life—she'd be failing all of them. In her mind's
eye,
she saw Kiley's bright little face, and she knew she could never risk hurting her.
Let's face it—she didn't know how to love one man, let alone the man's entire family! She'd have to be insane to risk disappointing all those people! She didn't want the responsibility. She didn't want the grief or the guilt.
She didn't want any of it.
"I'll be right back. I need to go to the bathr—"
Quinn's arms closed around her, and she could feel the steel-hard muscles tighten around her back and waist. "Oh, no, you don't," he said.
She knew Quinn had probably spent the last few minutes listening to the wheels turn in her brain, feeling the tension in her body. He didn't miss much.
She tried to shake off the seriousness. "I'll be gone three seconds, Quinn. I think even you can wait that long to—"
"Talk to me, Audie."
Her whole body went still.
When he began to soften his embrace, Audie realized he'd been holding her together. As his arms relaxed, the knot of emotions broke apart inside her, her limbs felt weak, and her throat opened to a horrible sound she didn't recognize. Within seconds, she had her face buried in his chest and she was weeping.
"I've got you, lassie. Go ahead and cry." Quinn's whisper was rough but filled with gentleness, and Audie felt his fingers slide through her hair and brush her cheek. He felt solid and warm beneath her and she allowed herself to let it go, only vaguely aware of the loud honking noises she was making.
"I love you," he whispered in between her sobs. "I love you, sweet Audie."
"No! No! Don't love me! I—"
He pressed her head to his chest and began to sing. Audie's eyes flew wide with surprise and she gulped back her cry so she could hear him.
"When a man's in love he feels no cold
As I not long ago
As a hero bold to see my girl
I plowed through frost and snow
"And the moon she gently shed her light
Along my dreary way
Until at length I came to the spot
Where all my treasure lay."
His singing was simple, true, and sweet, filled with the same beautiful cadence as his speaking voice. She lay perfectly still as he continued.
"I knocked on my love's window,
saying 'My dear, are you within?'
And softly she undid the lock
So slyly I stepped in.
"Her hand was soft and her breath was sweet
And her tongue
it
did gently glide.
I stole a kiss—it was no miss
And I asked her to be my bride."
He paused then, and Audie waited, breathless, for the next line. It didn't come.
"Why did you stop?" she whispered.
He laughed softly. "It doesn't have a happy ending."
Audie raised up on her elbow and frowned down on him. Did he understand? Was he telling her that he understood she could never give him what he deserved?
"So what happens?" she asked.
"She punches him."
Audie studied him in the soft light from the hallway and he looked back at her warily. "I'm sorry there isn't a happy ending, Quinn."
When he tried to smile, his face revealed a combination of such masculine power and fine beauty that it made her ache. In such a short time she'd gone from seeing this man as a sexy but aggravating cop to what he was now—probably the closest she'd ever get to love.
"Why were you crying, Audie? Was it the damn photographs again?" Quinn's wan smile slowly faded. "I can cover the wall with a couple of bedsheets whenever you're over."
She shook her head.
"I know being with my family reminds you of what you didn't have. My heart breaks to think you were ever lonely."
His words stunned her. No one had ever spoken to her so plainly, with such intimacy and knowledge. She stared at him.
"It's not fair that your family didn't stand by you and love you. It's not right that you didn't have a bunch of people telling you you were great when you sucked, or telling you that you sucked when you were great
…
like families are supposed to."
She didn't move.
"Audie, you can have my family, they can be your family, too, if you want."
Her throat nearly locked up on her, but she knew she needed to regain control of this conversation. "Like a rental?" she managed.
"I'm serious."
She raised up a little more and scowled at him. Her pulse was racing. "So am I, Quinn. Please don't offer me that."
She started to move away, but he grabbed her by the shoulders and studied her—the plump cheeks and ripe lips, the clean line of her jaw, the delicate hollow at the base of her slim throat. He reached up to brush a few stray locks from her damp forehead and cupped his palm around her frightened, tear-stained face.
Quinn was aware that this would be the mother of all uncomfortable moments for Audie—but she'd live.
"What I'm saying is that you can borrow my family while you decide if you want one of your own—you know, a husband-and-kids sort of arrangement—someday. And if you ever decide you do, be sure to let me know. I'll help you look for them."
Her heart lodged in her mouth. Was all this some kind of backhanded proposal of marriage? These questions? The song? Oh, God, no. Either she was reading far too much into this or she'd waited too long. But it hadn't even been seven weeks!
She forced a casual smile and kissed his cheek, trying her best to hide the terror she felt. "I'll be sure to tell you, Quinn. In the meantime, I really do have to go to the bathroom."
She slipped out of his grasp and escaped the bed.
"Audie. Just one more thing."
She spun around.
"You said something to me on the boat about your parents that I can't get out of my head."
Audie let out an exasperated groan. "You're not going to interrogate me tonight, are you? I'm really not in the mood for—"
"You said your parents tolerated each other." As Quinn straightened and propped himself against the headboard, the sheet fell low on his abdomen. Audie's eyes flew from that tantalizing sight
to
his face, where she saw a flicker of pain. "Then you said, 'like any marriage.' But that's not true, Audie. That's not like every marriage is. It doesn't have to be."
Audie's breath was coming fast and shallow and her fingers gripped the doorframe. She felt her feet edging backward into the hallway.
"Da and my mother had much more than that, so I know what's possible. I saw it. I saw laughter. I saw—"
Quinn's face contorted in the shadows and the moisture sparkled in his eyelashes. Audie was frozen, reeling with the effort it took not to go to him. Why did she want
to
go
to
him? She should be getting out!
"I saw them touch each other a lot, even though that's not exactly normal with Irish couples—but it was a small house. All us boys knew what was going on. He loved her so much, right up to—" Quinn wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, then looked up at her, his expression determined.
"They had pride in what they'd created together—children, home, friends, memories, a place in the world where they'd come together to make a life. That's more than tolerating, Audie. That's love. I saw it every day as a kid, and I know it's not a load of shit or a fantasy. It's real.
It can be real."
"I wouldn't know." Her heart felt as if it would burst in her chest. Her mouth was dry. Her hands were shaking.
"You've just got to have faith."
"I wouldn't know about that, either."
Quinn watched her standing there like a trapped animal, breathing fast. If she took off now, she wouldn't get far—she was wearing only a Garda Pipe and Drum Band T-shirt worn thin by a thousand washings. Her car keys were on the nightstand by his head. Realizing that now was as good a time as any, Quinn made his voice as soft and soothing as he could.
"Faith is believing in something when there's no possible way to guarantee it. Like believing that Kiley will get to live a full life. Like believing you and I are together for a reason. Faith is taking a chance, Audie."
"No, Quinn." She didn't recognize the sound of her own voice—it was gritty and strained with emotion. She stared at him all stretched out on his bed, gorgeous and honest and in love with her, and knew that time had run out. In that strange voice she said, "I'm so sorry. I wish things were different. I wish
I
were different."
Audie was trembling. She brought her arms tight around herself to stay steady. "I'm sorry," she said again.
It was painfully quiet for a moment. Then Quinn let his head fall back and he looked down his nose at her, his eyes half-shuttered and grim. "So, this is how you do it?" he asked. "You just say 'sorry' and walk out and either let the poor bastard chase after you awhile or watch him crawl into a hole and lick his wounds?" He rocked his head against the headboard. "Damn. I never thought I'd say this, but I think I actually feel sorry for Timmy Burke."
Her jaw fell. Her arms collapsed to her sides. "Excuse me?"
It was then that Quinn saw how her body was framed in the doorway, lit from behind by the hallway light, every delicious curve and swell of her nakedness in relief under the thin fabric, her breasts rising and falling with her agitated breathing.
Quinn realized he was getting hard as a railroad spike just looking at her, making this the only time he could recall getting a hard-on while getting the heave-ho.
"Did any of the others ask you to marry them?" he whispered. "Or was I the only one? Is it more difficult because I love you? Does that make things harder at all for you, Audie? I'm curious about that."
"What in hell are you talking about?" Even as she said it, she knew what was coming next. She'd walked right into
it!
"The green and slimy problem, sweet thing." He leaned forward and Audie watched him dangle his beautiful arms over bent knees. "Nobody ever ran from you—did you think I wouldn't figure that out? I'm a cop, for God's sake!" He let go with a harsh laugh.
"You
were the one who ran, Homey.
You
ran from the green and slimy and hairy thing with eleven eyeballs that lives in your heart and makes you afraid of love—afraid of life. And your mother put it there."