Two Wrongs Make a Right (27 page)

Quinn giggled. “You are awful.” But then she thought about Dak’s candy cane and heat rose in her cheeks.

“Are you embarrassed? What has pending motherhood done to you? Come on, let’s get going and make some memories.”

Quinn sighed. Yep, this would be her most memorable holiday. A baby girl on the way. A beautiful house. A husband who didn’t love her. Ho. Ho. Ho.

Dak knocked back the last bit of whiskey in his glass, and stared at the downtown skyline. Christmas lights blinked and glowed announcing the season. Well, it was December first. He could see the tip-top of the state capitol dome from his condo balcony. The takeover was moving forward and the new owners had requested another interview with him, this one to include his wife. Dak needed to prepare Quinn.

He turned, went back inside, and flopped down onto the oversized chair. Following work, he could have gone home, but it was agony to be so close and not touch her.

Funny how he’d put demands in place to punish her, and it’d turned out he was the one suffering. Every night he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she lost her breath. Have her spooned into him. Rest his hand on her stomach and feel their daughter move. But when he thought about those things, the wedding day scene with Justin came into view. The way she smiled up at him caused a fire to burn in Dak’s belly, and he reminded himself she’d be with his dimpled friend if she could.

Jealousy was a wasted emotion, but for the life of him, he couldn’t stop, and the worst part was, it caused him to act like an idiot saying and doing things he instantly regretted.

He finished the drink and started to pour another but decided that was a bad idea. Numbing himself with alcohol wasn’t the solution. He wasn’t sure what was, but it wasn’t Balcones. At least he wasn’t that big of a chump.

Guilt tightened his chest. He’d been a jerk when she’d mentioned making a list of names for the baby. He picked up a note pad and hovered the pencil over it. They could name her after their mothers. That would be funny.

At first he thought it was his imagination, but the knock came again, this time louder. He glanced at his watch. Almost midnight. For a moment, his heart picked up speed in hopes it was Quinn. She knew the address from their hook-up weekend. She’d followed him there to pick his truck up before they went to his house.

What a ridiculous notion. She’d never come looking for him. She’d not even texted back when he’d sent the one telling her he wasn’t coming home.

He set the pencil and pad aside, then ambled to the entry, and pressed his eye to the peephole.
Shit
. Shelly. What the hell was she doing here? One way to find out. He pulled the door open.

Dangling her shoes in one hand, and a bottle in the other, she weaved from side to side. “I’m so glad you’re here. I wasn’t sure you would be. You’re still dressed, so I guess you’re alone? I need to pee.” She shoved past him, dropped her spiked heels to the floor, set the champagne on the counter, then disappeared into the bathroom.

A few minutes later, she returned and threw her arms around his neck. “Can I stay here tonight? I got into a fight with my date and he left me. You believe that? The jerk ditched me!” She rubbed against him. “Oh God, you feel so good. I’ve missed you.” She tiptoed and pressed her lips to his.

He pulled her arms from his neck and stepped back. “I’ll call you a cab.”

“No. It will take forever. Traffic is wall-to-wall out there.”

“Bumper-to-bumper.”

“What?”

“Carpet is wall-to-wall. Traffic is bumper-to-bumper.”

“Whatever.” She gave him a sad face. “I want to sleep with you. You know how to treat a woman. Let me, and I’ll do that thing you like so much.” She moved in for another kiss.

Funny how since meeting Quinn, he’d not given Shelly a single thought. That was crazy. The girl had skills in bed, and he was in the middle of a long dry spell. That could end. All he had to do was say one little word, and he should. Hell, it wouldn’t be cheating. It’s not like his marriage was real. But for the life of him, he couldn’t do it. Because for the first time, it dawned on him, that maybe, just maybe, it could be real.

He side-stepped, then caught her by the wrists to keep her from falling. “I’m married.”

That got a laugh from her. “No you’re not.”

“Yeah. I am. You have to go.”

Off balance, she craned her neck to look around the room. “I don’t see a wife.”

He displayed his hand and wiggled his fingers. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with a drunk ex-girlfriend.

Eyes wide, she grabbed his finger, and brought it in close to her face. Then she squinted as if trying to focus. “Oh. My. God. You’re serious. You really got married? When? To who? Or is it whom? I never know. Anyway, what’s her name?”

“Nobody you’ve met.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble.” She staggered to pick up her shoes, went to the sofa, slipped one on, then lay over on the cushions.

“Do you need help?” When she didn’t answer, Dak moved around to face her. She had her eyes closed. He patted her cheeks. Shook her shoulders. “Shelly. Come on, Shel. You’ve got to wake up.”

No response. He pulled the shoe from her foot, and folded her legs onto the sofa, then propped a throw pillow under her head.
Great. Just frigging great.
He had a wife at home who didn’t want him, and an ex-girlfriend at his condo who did.

~~*~~

Early the next morning, Quinn didn’t throw up for the first time in months. She’d also slept better than usual and chalked it up to finally accepting her situation and taking control. That and having Lucy and Ethel curled against her. It was nice to have bed partners that loved her. She’d missed that. She stroked both cats. “You won’t have to stay with Raynie much longer.” They purred their response.

She’d pushed any feelings she had for Dak to the back of her mind and the bottom of her heart. The best she could hope from him was tolerance. Forgiveness was out of the question and she’d made peace with that. She bounded out of bed, dressed in her most comfortable jeans and sweater, then walked down the hall with a bounce in her step. Raynie was removing cinnamon rolls from the oven.

“Those smell divine.”

Raynie stuck a candle in one, and passed it to Quinn. “Happy Birthday. Today is your day. I’ve made us spa appointments. We’re getting the full treatment. Body. Nails. Feet. I read reviews that this place has the best pre-natal massage in the city. You’ll feel like a new woman.”

“I hope so because the old one feels fat.”

“The last trimester is the hardest, but you haven’t gained that much weight.” Raynie reached over and patted Quinn’s belly. “I can’t wait for her to get here. After we’re done at the spa, let’s baby shop. I want to buy something frilly for my goddaughter.”

Quinn sighed. “I keep hoping Dak will mention getting the nursery ready, but he doesn’t even want to discuss names, so you and I may have to paint the room.”

“Well, I’m pumped. You going for a theme? Princess, fairy, unicorns?”

“No. Soft colors and maybe floral patterns for the bedding.”

“Sounds good. Let’s eat, then we’ll get this party started.”

Thirty minutes later, they loaded in the car and headed downtown. Once they got into the mix of traffic, Quinn noticed her surroundings. She pointed to the right. “Dak’s condo is two streets over.”

Raynie swung the car into the turn lane.

“What are you doing?” Quinn’s voice elevated an octave.

“I want to see it. Hey, you may get it in the divorce.”

“No. I signed a pre-nup. I get nothing which is what I deserve.”

Raynie slowed down. “Which building is it?”

“Up ahead on the left. That big white one with all the glass.”

As they approached, Quinn looked toward the front door. She didn’t know why. He parked in the parking garage. But then she caught sight of him and gasped. He helped a woman into a cab. Before the blonde got in, she cupped his face and kissed him.

The emotions Quinn had repressed rose and lodged in her chest. She’d been right. He was having an affair. According to Megan, the woman appeared to be his flavor. Blonde. Young. Quinn tried to get a breath, but there wasn’t enough oxygen in the car. She rolled down the window.

Raynie looked at her. “Oh God. I’m so sorry. What should we do?”

She waved her hand forward. “Get out of here before he sees us.”

Once they were a block away, Raynie pulled to the curb. “I’m sorry. If I’d had any idea we might see him, I wouldn’t have driven by.”

Tears streamed down Quinn’s cheeks. “I shouldn’t be upset. It’s not like we have a real relationship.”

Raynie took her hand. “Cups, swords, and wands. Why didn’t I see it? I knew you liked him—but you’re in love with him. This is bad. This is so bad.”

“Don’t tell Megan, okay? And promise me, you’ll never say anything to Dak. I’ll get over him. I will. I’ve already started. If you don’t mind, I’ll stay with you again tonight.” She sniffed and pulled herself together. “I don’t want this to ruin our day.”

“You’re right.” Raynie pulled back into traffic and sang Happy Birthday at the top of her lungs. Quinn already felt better.

~~*~~

When Dak got to his office, he had messages waiting from Sim. With the unexpected midnight visitor, he’d forgotten to plug in his phone, so he’d missed her texts. Before he called her, he connected his cell to the charger. He hated when he let it die. Like everyone else on the planet, it was his lifeline.

He dialed her number, and she answered on the second ring. “Hey Sim.”

“Where the hell have you been? Siberia? I’ve called you a dozen times in the last hour.”

“You’re scaring me. Has something happened to Quinn? The baby?”

“No. Everything is fine. Wait a minute. Why ask me about Quinn? Didn’t you just leave her at home?”

“Stayed at the condo last night.”

“Why?”

“Worked late. Didn’t feel like driving to the country.”

“Is that the real reason?”

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“Come on, I know that’s where you always took your women. Are you cheating on Quinn?”

“Good God, Sim. No. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Sorry. According to you, since this marriage of yours is pretend, you might not consider your vows binding.”

“Well, I do. Besides, that would defeat my purpose of presenting myself as a wholesome family man don’t you think? Is there a reason you wanted to talk?”

“Oh yeah. I’m calling to remind you today is Quinn’s birthday, in case you want to get something. Do you?”

“Uh. Sure. I guess. Any ideas?”

“You can’t come up with anything?”

“Hell, I barely know the woman. So no, I don’t have a clue.”

“You know her well enough to know she doesn’t put importance on things. Which makes it easy on you. She’d love a poem as much as a diamond ring.”

“Oh yeah?” Dak stared out his window. “Well, let me think—Oh, I’ve got just the one. The sun is shiny, flags are wavy, you fucked me over and made a baby. How’s that?—Sim? Sim? Are you still there?”
Damn her
. He re-dialed.

“You’re an ass,” she answered. “Why don’t you go ahead and dissolve the marriage and be done with it. I’m tired of you playing the poor-pitiful-me song.”

“It was a joke. Good God. Can’t I even tease anymore?”

“No. You can’t. I’m serious. You’re miserable and so is she. You need to end it and move on.”

“I can’t. My big interview is coming up this week. Besides, I’m not miserable.”

“You’re an ass
and
a liar. You’ll be tied to Quinn for the rest of your life. Do you understand that? Regardless of who you marry or how many more kids you have, Quinn Dorsey will always be the mother of your firstborn, and you need to show her a little respect.”

“Hey, I…”

“No! I’m not done. Forget how the baby happened and concentrate on how much you’ll love that little girl—and her mother.”

“I don’t…”

“Oh really? Just now, when you thought there might have been an emergency, the first person you asked about was Quinn. Not Mom. Not Dad. Not the baby. Quinn. Your wife. Explain that.”

She didn’t give him a chance to respond. She disconnected. Dak stared at the receiver for a moment, then replaced it. Who’d pissed in her Cheerios? He turned his attention to the bridal photo on his desk. Feelings for her? He didn’t know. How could he when she’d been the most deceitful person he’d ever met? But last night, he could have had Shelly in his bed, and he didn’t. That was easy to explain. He might be a jerk, but he wasn’t an adulterer.

Beginning at four p.m., he watched the clock. Tonight, he’d take Quinn out for her birthday—if she wanted to go. At five, he cleared his desk and headed home. The birthday present he’d bought during his lunch hour was in his briefcase. Taking Sim’s advice, he’d come up with something simple. She was right. Quinn wasn’t high maintenance. The thought behind a gift meant more than the price tag.

When he made the final turn leading to his house, light winked through the branches like diamonds. She’d decorated the place. He came to a stop. Wooden elves stood by trees, artificial reindeer grazed at the edge of the yard, and cutout carolers formed a stationary choir on the porch. Hell, it looked like Santa Town.

He got out of the truck and ambled up the steps. The whiskey barrels on each side of the entry were a nice touch, and the door wreath looked as if it came from vines growing on his property.

The only lights on in the house were those on the large tree in the corner. If Quinn was home, she’d already gone to bed, but it was only six o’clock. He dropped his briefcase to the floor and sprinted to the master suite. Every hair on his arms sprang to attention. What if she was sick or in labor? It was too early for the baby—or what if she’d left him?

He got to the doorway and switched on the light. The bed, still made. He checked the bathroom. Nothing. “Quinn! Quinn! Are you here?”

The door across the hall stood ajar. He eased it open. The bed from her apartment, now assembled, sat against the wall, ready for an occupant. He stepped deeper into the room, slumped down on the edge, and ran his hand across his face. She hadn’t moved out, but didn’t intend to sleep with him anymore.