A Lover's Dream (10 page)

“J.C.!” Quest called, grinning when the man returned his wave. “Careful,” he whispered, his attention instantly riveted back to Mick. “Watch your step,” he advised, keeping an arm about her waist as they began to trek across the uneven landscape.

“What's goin' on?” Quest greeted the man once the distance was closed between them. After shaking hands he turned back to Mick. “Michaela Sellars, this is Ramsey's top construction chief, Jason Calloway. J.C., this is Michaela Sellars visiting from Chicago.”

Jason whistled. “Chicago,” he noted with an impressed nod. “Good to meet you, ma'am.”

“Same here,” Mick replied, smiling as his callused hand closed over hers in a shake.

“What do you think, Quest?” J.C. asked.

Quest's gray eyes narrowed when he squinted
against the sun to get a better look at the land. “Incredible. It's everything you said it was.”

While J.C. and Quest talked, Mick glanced around. Her expression was skeptical as she decided they were clearly seeing more of the property than she was.

Quest noticed the look on her face and felt the need to explain. “Michaela, this is the site for our next development,” he said and pointed to the sign they stood next to.

Mick was surprised she hadn't seen it before and took a closer look at what would be the completed project. “Hmm, nice,” she uttered after a moment or two.

The men exchanged glances.

“That's it?” Quest asked softly.

Mick's amber gaze was blank. “That's what?”

Quest bowed his head while massaging his jaw. “Well, I know it's just a sign, but this place is going to be one of our most ambitious housing endeavors. You just don't seem very impressed,” he added, without realizing how much he wanted her to be.

“Oh, Quest, I'm sorry,” Mick said and laid her palm flat against his chest. “The homes look like they'll be exquisite—
beyond
exquisite. It—it's the yards that put them to shame.”

“The yards?” Both men sounded off in unison.

Mick trailed one hand through her curls as they whipped against the wind. “I've seen these high-end, high-income developments before, and for the most part one thing is both consistent and disappointing—the yards.”

“Go on, Ms. Sellars,” J.C. urged, interest clear on his tanned face.

“Well, all the yards just appear so small. They make the homes seem like giants crouching for space on the same hill. Sure, many of these developments boast private parks, but it should be considered that some parents may prefer having their kids play closer to home.
You guys should take that into account, that this
is
a Ramsey Group project. It should boast spacious yards in addition to spacious homes.”

Quest and J.C. stroked their jaws simultaneously. Their eyes surveyed the land with renewed understanding.

“Sorry for speaking so frankly. I'm sure whatever you guys decide will be great,” Mick said, to assuage their egos.

“Ms. Sellars, please don't apologize. Your honesty is more than appreciated, believe me,” J.C. assured her.

“Michaela, honestly you've not only given us a new direction to take our project, you've given us a terrific selling point to exploit,” Quest added.

“I can't believe we didn't discuss this before. We should set up a meeting with Stanton and his group right away,” J.C. suggested, referring to their architect. “We could definitely use a troubleshooter like you on our team, Ms. Sellars,” he added, smiling down at Mick before he looked up at Quest. “When does she start?”

Quest's laughter was easy. “She's mine,” he responded simply.

Mick wondered if she was the only one who heard the underlying message in that remark.

 

The day wrapped up at the Cigar Bar, an establishment frequented by the area's most powerful professionals. Men and women alike flocked to the dark, stern watering hole that harbored a surprisingly relaxed mood with its hand-rolled cigars, top-notch whiskeys and liquors, light menu, and very own pianist.

“Mmm…so this is where the deals are made,” Mick noted, inhaling the intoxicating aroma of leather and cigar smoke.

“Made or broken,” Quest teased, nodding toward those he recognized. “It's best to dangle this treat
before the client
after
the papers are signed,” he added and graced Mick with a sly wink.

“Mr. Ramsey!” the bartender called when Mick and Quest approached. “And Mr. Ramsey's beautiful companion,” he added.

Quest grinned. “Ralph, this is Michaela Sellars.”

“Beautiful,” Ralph continued to compliment.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Mick said, enjoying the man's adoration.

“We're going to eat here at the bar, Ralph,” Quest said as he ushered Mick into one of the high-backed maple-wood stools skirting the bar. “What'll you have, Michaela?”

“Hmm?” she responded absently, her eyes feasting on the portraits of famous celebrities from Hollywood's golden era. Each portrait featured a different actor or actress puffing on a cigar.

“Michaela?”

“Oh! Um, I'll let you order,” she responded hastily.

“What sort of cigar do you want?”

The question almost rendered Mick speechless. Quest asked the question in the same manner he would had he been inquiring if she liked her steak well done. She managed to contain her amusement enough to address his question.

“Quest, I'm afraid you're with a woman who is completely out of her element here. I'm not afraid to admit that. I honestly wouldn't know what to do with the damn thing,” she confided, staring skeptically at the small menu of cigars he held.

Quest only nodded while his deep-set gaze scanned the book. “You up for a lesson?” he challenged.

“No,” Mick sang, “I'm not about to let you waste a bundle on an expensive cigar that I'd only mess up.”

“Ralph,” Quest called, waving in the barkeep's direction, “bring me two Royal Jamaicas. The lady will have a Robusto and I'll take a Ten Downing Street.”

“Yessir,” Ralph replied and quickly obliged the order.

“All right,” Quest announced once he'd used a brass cutter to clip the end of the longer cigar. He took it between his thumb and index finger. “You light the end like so,” he demonstrated, puffing intermittedly, “and you're all set,” he added, motioning for Mick to take the cigar he held.

“No way,” she refused flatly.

“Come on.”

“
No
way.”

“I hate to smoke alone,” he said then, fixing her with his most disappointed expression.

Mick was thankful he hadn't requested anything more involved. That expression could make her give in to anything. Of that, she was sure. She took the cigar and put forth a valiant first try. Sadly, she only succeeded in a bout of coughs and sputters.

Quest leaned forward to pat her back, chuckling as he did so.

“I can do this,” Mick decided, bracing herself for another puff. After a few more unsuccessful attempts, she managed to take a long drag from the cigar that had to be at least ten inches long.

“Mmm…” she murmured, offering a little smile. She found the taste and smell to be quite intoxicating.

Quest was intoxicated as well. He was entranced by the sight of her, not quite believing how alluring and arousing was the sight of a woman with a mouth like hers puffing on the end of a cigar. He'd driven around town all day with her trying to keep his mind off how good she looked and smelled. The majority of his thoughts revolved around how very much he wanted to carry her off some place and make love to her until she couldn't walk. Now he'd brought her there and she was succeeding in arousing him to an even higher level.
Down, Quest
, he warned.

Mick noticed his intense stare. “Sorry,” she whispered, believing she'd been hogging his cigar.

“You're fine,” he said and reached for the other cigar. “Are you ready for your own?”

“Yaay,” Mick said.

“Don't make this a habit,” he warned softly.

“I promise I won't,” she replied eagerly, lowering her eyes in a demure fashion when he began to laugh.

 

“I'm sorry for putting down the project before,” Mick said later when they were dining. “I've been known to be pretty opinionated,” she explained when he looked over at her.

“What are you talking about?” Quest set aside his knife and fork. “Your opinion was very valued. We're real big on constructive criticism at Ramsey. You've got a job there if you ever decide to leave the writing business,” he added.

“Mmm, is this another ploy to get me to stay, Mr. Ramsey?” she teased, watching him slice off another morsel of his rib eye.

“Is it working?” he asked,

“No comment,” Mick decided with a chuckle. “I must admit, though, this place is incredible.
Seattle
is incredible. I'd definitely like to visit a lot more.”

“Glad to hear it,” Quest said, amidst savoring the tender beef. “I really want you to consider coming back.”

“Well, I'm not gone yet,” Mick pointed out lightly, having no idea how serious Quest was in his statement.

It was her use of the word “yet” he didn't like, and it showed. Mick glanced over at him and caught the tightness of his expression before he could mask it. She decided to let silence settle for the duration of the meal.

 

When Quest returned Mick to her hotel suite that evening, he went through his ritual of checking the room. As usual, Mick waited by the message desk near the front door.

“Lunch tomorrow? If you're free?” he asked when he joined her out front.

Mick rolled her eyes. “Quest, no,” she said, groaning when she saw the hurt flash in his misty gray eyes. “You've taken up enough time with me today. You
do
have a business to run, you know?”

“One has nothing to do with the other,” he argued, folding his arms across his shirt.

“So why'd you insist on showing me every aspect of it today?” she challenged.

“Because I'm trying like hell to impress you.”

“I was impressed way before today,” Mick admitted, and then looked away as though she'd said too much.

“Lunch tomorrow?” he asked again.

“I'll be ready,” Mick accepted softly.

Unfolding his arms, Quest stepped closer. His hand curved loosely beneath her chin while his mouth slanted across hers. Mick parted her lips eagerly, moaning seconds before his tongue began to caress her own. What could have been a sweet good-night kiss quickly became something heated and intense. Soft moans rose in Quest's throat as his tongue delved deeper into her mouth. He was lost in a sea of unsatisfied and constantly building desire.

Mick stood on her toes and kissed him with wild abandon. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and wished he'd never stop thrusting and curving his tongue around hers. Quest's hands tightened upon her waist as though he were struggling to keep them there. He lost that battle and soon his thumbs were brushing her nipples outlined against the silky cotton fabric of the asymmetrical shirt she wore. Mick tried to gasp his name, but she couldn't breathe beneath
the kiss and she didn't care. When she felt Quest moving back, she frowned and curled her fingers more tightly into his shirt.

“Michaela,” he whispered, breaking the kiss to speak against the corner of her mouth. “Baby, wait.”

The soft urging in his voice told Mick that the magical day had truly reached its end. She refused to look up at him while stepping out of his embrace. She turned her back toward him, leaning into the kiss he placed at her temple before he left.

 

“That's what
you
think.”

Mick rolled her eyes in response to County's rebuttal to her announcement that the Ramsey book was dead in the water. “As far as I'm concerned, it is,” she retorted.

“Well, the last time I checked, Contessa House had
my
name on the sign,” County challenged tersely. “You won't feel betrayed by us continuing our research and putting another author on it, will you?”

Again, Mick's lashes fluttered in the midst of another eye-roll. “Betrayed, hell. You probably already have another author in mind.”

“You know me so well.” County sighed over the phone. “Seriously, Mick, I
really
wanted you on this. A book like this has the makings of millions—dollars
and
awards.”

“I know,” Mick fully agreed, but silently admitted she'd choose Quest Ramsey over a tell-all
any
day.

“So have you made a decision about L.A., or are you gonna disappoint me on that too?”

Mick was slapping her palm to her forehead as she approached the hotel restaurant where she was to meet Quest for lunch. “The literary conference?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Next week, right?”

“Mmm-hmm…”

Mick groaned. “Oh, County—”

“Damn it, Mick! This man has got you floating in the clouds.”

“Yeah…yeah, he does.” Mick didn't bother to lie. Her amber eyes sparkled when she saw him already seated in the restaurant. His head was tilted and his eyes were narrowed as he concentrated on the menu he held. Mick felt completely removed from her body as she studied him—admiring the presence he made without doing a thing. He raised his head and his gaze shifted to hers. Mick smothered a gasp and barely managed a wave.

“Mick!”

“Sorry—sorry, County. I—um—”

“Forget it. I'll have a fine time at those boring lectures and an even better time all alone in my room for the week.”

Mick fiddled with the hem of the thin-strapped copper swing tee she wore and smiled. “You must think I'm a fool to believe you'll be all
alone
anywhere. Especially your hotel room.”