Pieces of You (18 page)

Chapter 19

“I’m serious Quinn, I think he’s the one.” Arianna poured two glasses of chardonnay and handed one to Quinn.

“You’ve known this guy for less than seventy-two hours and you’re ready to spend the rest of your life with him?”

She shrugged and slid onto the stool. They’d had some of their best talks in the back of her studio, but tonight Quinn was in a mood and now she wished she hadn’t mentioned anything about Jonathan Galbraith.

But Quinn wasn’t about to let it go. The lawyer in him kicked in, and he sat up straighter, a frown pulling at his full lips, his eyes narrowing on her. “Where did he say he’s from?”

“Chicago, but he grew up outside a small town in Michigan,” she said, as though small town life would earn him extra points.

“What’s the name of the town?”

“Quinn, for Pete’s sake, how do I know? I can’t even remember to feed my cat half the time.”

“Which is why you shouldn’t get too chummy with this guy. He could be anybody,” he said. “An ax murderer, a rapist, a con man, Christ, even Alexander Maldonando.”

“Danielle’s husband? What are you talking about? That man’s dead.”

His expression froze for a split second, or maybe she’d just imagined it, before he said, “Yeah, right. I’m just trying to make a point.”

“Fine. Point taken.”

He sighed and said, “Look, I’m not trying to play father but I worry about you.” He paused and added, “After the last guy—”

“All men are not like Ash Revelin.” Thank God.

“It took you a year to get over the guy. I’m still not sure you’re over him.”

Arianna took a healthy sip of wine and said, “He left me ten days before our wedding, Quinn. That’s not something a woman just forgets.”

“I know.” He rubbed his jaw and said, “I liked the guy, too. I never saw it coming.”

“Neither did I.” She really did not want to have a conversation about her ex-fiancé. “Now can we talk about something else?”

“Sure. What else do you know about this Galbraith?”

“He’s an architect and he’s working on a project here.”

“Did he mention the name of the project?”

“No.” She swatted his arm. “Maybe you should have been a prosecutor. Did you ever think of that?”

He ignored her and continued, “The truth is always in the details. You’re an artist, you should know that.”

“I don’t make a habit of dissecting people.”

He scowled. “Sure you do. Ever since that man whom you do not want to discuss left, you’ve been putting everybody under a microscope. Why not Galbraith?”

A tiny smile worked its way over her lips. “He’s different. He’s,” she paused, searching for just the right word. “Compelling.”

“Hmmm. I bet women thought Ted Bundy was compelling, too. Would you mind if I had my guy run a background check on him?” He pulled a piece of paper from his shirt pocket and scribbled Jonathan’s name on it. “Just to be sure, okay? If he comes up clean, I’ll buy you both dinner and I’ll be the first to offer congratulations.”

“Do you really think this is necessary?” He hadn’t seen Jonathan’s face when he spoke of growing up in the country with three sisters and a sick father. An ax murderer didn’t wait tables and work a hotel night shift to get through grad school. Nor did he drive his father to the hospital twice a week for dialysis treatments. But Quinn would find some flaw, so Arianna said nothing.

“Are you seeing him again tonight?”

“Is this an interrogation or are you merely curious?”

“It’s just a question,” he answered, clearly annoyed.

“Fine, then in that case, this is just an answer.” She paused and enunciated, “Yes, I am seeing him again tonight. Now, I have a question for you. What’s going on between you and Danielle?”

He finished his wine, avoiding her gaze. “She’s been through a lot and she spooks easily. I’m just keeping an eye on her for a little while.”

“Kind of like a bodyguard?”

He gave her a strange look that said she’d seen one too many movies. “I guess you could say that.”

“Hmmm.” Now she had him. “Does that include sharing a bed, too?”

His silver eyes turned to slits. “Have you been talking to my sister?”

“Actually, no. It was just a guess but your expression told me all I needed to know. Don’t hurt her Quinn, she’s been through enough already.”

“She’s a big girl.” He slid off his stool and set his wine glass on the work bench. “Speaking of big girls, I’ve got to pick Annie up for dinner.”

“Sure. Change the subject.” She touched his sleeve and said, “Danielle’s not like the cotton candy you’re used to. She won’t know this doesn’t mean anything to you, that when you’re through you’ll buy her a piece of jewelry and won’t return her phone calls.”

“You make me sound like a real jerk.”

“No, just a man who refuses to share his heart,” Arianna said softly.

He ignored that statement and said, “I’ve got to get going.”

“Tell Annie I said hello.”

“Will do.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Call me. And be careful.”

“I will, to both.”

Quinn smiled and she could see why 99% of the female population fell prey to his charm. Not her of course. Their friendship was too precious to mix up with sex, and besides, he had the same color eyes as Ash Revelin. Jonathan’s eyes were the color of obsidian. She’d worked with a stone one time that was the exact same color with tiny flecks of gray. She thought of this later as she sat across from him eating veal picata and sipping Dom Perignon. A tiny sliver of her wished Quinn would stroll in with Annie, just so he could see Jonathan and wipe out his ridiculous concerns.

“You seem preoccupied,” Jonathan said. “Is something wrong?”

His voice held the deep timbre of a baritone and when he said her name, he clung to the last vowel, pulling it into a sensual drawl. “I’m fine.” She smiled at him, growing warm under his dark gaze.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

“So have I,” she said, lifting her champagne glass.

He lifted his too. “We’ve toasted to a chance meeting, now I’d like to toast to the beginning of a beautiful relationship.” Jonathan clinked his glass against hers and reached for her hand.

Would he kiss her tonight? Try to take her to bed? Would she let him? There’d been no one since . . . she pushed
him
out of her mind and said, “To chance encounters. May they prove fulfilling.”

“And mutually satisfying,” he added.

The man enchanted her. Thrilled her with his hot gazes and sensual voice. “If only Quinn could meet you,” Arianna blurted out, “he’d see how wrong he was.”

His eyes narrowed a fraction. “Is he your brother?”

“No.” She laughed and shook her head. “He’s just a good friend, and an extremely protective one.”

Jonathan’s dark brows knitted together. “He wants to protect you from me?”

She waved a hand in the air, feeling suddenly foolish to have brought it up. “It’s just Quinn. He’s a lawyer and you know how lawyers can be. They think everybody’s a suspect, especially if it has to do with friends and family.”

“Tell me more about him.”

“He’s the closest thing to a brother I’ve ever had. He has his own law firm and he’s one of those ultra successful types. You know, the Porsche, the Audi, the flat screen in the bathroom. Oh, I hope you don’t have a Porsche. Do you?”

When he shook his head, she continued, “It’s not that I mind if he’s rich, it’s just sometimes wealth carries its own baggage.” She pierced a piece of veal and added, “Like relationships for example. The women are all cotton candy on a stick and just as empty.”

“You don’t like his choice in women?”

It was so easy to talk to this man that the words just spilled out. “No, I don’t, or I didn’t until this last one. But it’s tricky.” She leaned in close and lowered her voice. “I think he’s falling for her. She ran away from her husband. It was very messy.”

“Really?”

Jonathan was interested in her; she could tell by the way he leaned forward, his intense stare piercing right through her. It was this profound revelation that catapulted her to whisper, “He ended up dead.”

Jonathan sipped his champagne and commented, “That does sound messy.”

“Oh, you’d better believe it.” She grew giddy sharing such a secret with this man but she sensed they were destined to share even greater intimacies. More secrets spilled from her. “Quinn hates complications but I think he’s falling in love with Danielle.”

“Danielle?” He rolled the name around on his tongue.

“That’s what she calls herself, but I don’t think that’s her real name.”

“Ah.” Jonathan nodded his dark head. “The art of subterfuge.”

“When you meet Quinn, you can’t let on that I’ve told you any of this. He’d be furious.”

“Trust me, Arianna,” he said, clasping her hand between his own. “Your secret is safe with me.”

***

Quinn slammed the book shut and pushed it away. When had he turned into such a wimp? It was
his
house, so why was he waiting until she fell asleep to tiptoe to the bedroom and slink into bed? It had been three days since he’d thrown her suitcase on the floor and shown her just why she couldn’t leave him. Sweat pricked along his forehead as he recalled the incident. Had she really planned to walk out? He’d been furious and half insane when he’d seen the damn suitcase on the bed but she’d acted so damn cool and unaffected, as if her leaving didn’t matter to her one way or the other. He’d gone too far, he knew that now, had known it then but he’d been unable to control his anger or his desperation. He didn’t dare touch her, not unless she came to him, which he knew she wouldn’t.

If Evie noticed something was off, at least she had the good grace to keep quiet. He needed time to figure things out and maybe if a few more days passed, Danielle would be amenable to a discussion. Maybe even an apology. He didn’t want her to leave. Panic thrust him back eighteen years to Corville, Pennsylvania. He could not go through that again.

Maybe divine intervention would kick in and Danielle would get pregnant. If that wasn’t a twist for someone who had spent the majority of his adult life insuring a pregnancy
did not
happen. Did he
want
her to get pregnant? He wasn’t falling in love with her, was he? He hurled that thought from his brain. Tomorrow, he’d have a talk with her, get things back on track,
and
he’d wear a condom.

***

Alexander Maldonando thrummed his fingers against the steering wheel of the rented BMW and stared at the sprawling stone house in front of him. Arianna had been a veritable wealth of information tonight, amazing what a little champagne and just the right smile will do to a woman. Thanks to her, he had Quinn Burnes’s address, the make of his car, his phone number, and of course,
Danielle’s
whereabouts.

He pulled the photo from his breast pocket and traced his wife’s face. What had she done to her hair? She knew he preferred it long and yet she’d deliberately disobeyed him and chopped it. He fingered her pale throat and sighed. He’d have to teach her a lesson about obedience. She would come with him quietly and willingly. Just like she always did. Quinn Burnes wouldn’t be so lucky. If he’d touched Eve, he was a dead man. Alexander glanced at the photo once more, stuffed it in his breast pocket, and opened the door.

Chapter 20

Quinn shifted in his chair and yawned. He didn’t have the energy to open his eyes let alone work his way to the bedroom. If he could just get rid of the kink in his neck . . . He yawned again, so groggy he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him until the blunt edge of cold steel rammed against his temple.

“Don’t move,” a man’s voice hissed in his ear, “or I’ll blow your brains out.”

Quinn jerked fully awake, peering into the gray darkness illuminated by the single table lamp. “Take it easy.” He sipped in a breath, very aware of the gun poised at his temple.

“Where’s my wife?”

Alexander Maldonando.
“I don’t know.” That response landed him a blow to the shoulder blades.

“Don’t screw with me.”

“I don’t know where she is.” Even as he said this, Quinn pictured Danielle curled up in his bed, her inky hair spilling onto the white pillowcase.

“Look at me.”

Quinn managed to lift his head and turn toward Alexander Maldonando who stood before him wielding a revolver like an unholy avenger. He had Quinn by at least thirty pounds.

“I say my wife’s here. Let’s go hunting.” He waved his gun in the air and motioned toward the door.

Quinn stumbled to his feet, hoping his mother, who usually painted half the night, might hear the commotion. “Why are you doing this? Danielle doesn’t want to be with you.”