A Lover's Dream (3 page)

“And you can call me Quay,” he permitted, squeezing her hand once before releasing it. Then he pressed the button on the wood panel and the pine doors opened.

Quay waited until the elevator began its descent, before leaning back on his long legs and stroking his square jaw. “Mmm… Mick…yummy,” he added, and then rolled his eyes when he heard the disgusted grunt from the far corner of the room. “Don't even try it, you cannot deny any compliment to that lusciousness that just walked out of here,” he challenged, watching as a large form moved in the shadows while leaving the chair behind the desk.

“And that's the only reason you even considered this book nonsense,” was the reply, spoken in a deep voice that possessed a softer, more unsettling quality that differed from Quaysar's.

“I agreed to this book because it'd be good for the family.”

“Bull.”

“Why?”

Quest Ramsey perched on the edge of the desk then. “You took one look at her photo and wanted her here for however long it'd take you to get her into bed.”

“Damn,” Quay retorted, pretending to be stunned in the midst of his amazement. “Man, are you forgetting how many women are in Seattle?”

“No, but as you saw fit to point out, she's quite…yummy and luscious.”

Quay smiled. “And I suppose you never noticed that?”

“Oh, I noticed,” Quest admitted, his eyes narrowing sharply. The deep-set gray stare darkened to black as he recalled the poised, soft-spoken beauty whose perfume still lingered in the office. “I noticed something else too. Her work,” he added when Quay fixed him with a dumbfounded expression. “Did you even bother to
read
anything in that proposal her publisher sent?”

Quay folded his arms across his chest and produced a pointed look. Quest laughed, revealing the dimple that flashed in his left cheek.

“And I suppose you've never read any of her books, either?” Quest asked, receiving another pointed look from his brother. “Is there anything on your nightstand besides
Playboy
, man?”

“Of course there is.
Penthouse
,” Quay revealed coolly.

Quest brought one hand to his left arm and massaged the dull ache forming at the brand on his arm—a reminder of college days, the result of a frat branding party gone wrong. Now it only ached when he was frustrated. “Look, Quay,” he urged, moving his hand from the sleeve of the cobalt blue shirt he wore, “the
lusciousness
you're so taken by is no fool.
She's got a master's in journalism, one in English, and eight years as a crime reporter. She doesn't write fluff, no entertainment stories with more pictures than words,” he carefully explained, his glare now as black as his brother's. “Don't think she's so interested in the family because she wants to tell the world what great people we are. She wants a story, she wants dirt, and the Ramseys got plenty.”

Quay rolled his eyes and massaged the back of his neck. “You work my damn nerves with this suspicion of yours, Q,” he almost growled.

Quest shrugged. “This suspicion of mine has kept us out of a lot of crap. Don't forget that.”

“Maybe a little trouble would shake things up a bit. Get us to face some things,” Quay argued softly, perching on the edge of the desk as well.

“I will admit that I don't believe she's
only
out for dirt. Unlike you, I've read her work,” Quest shared. “She's got an easy style, it's nonfiction that reads like a novel, and you can almost feel her dedication to highlight both good
and
bad details of her subjects.” He grimaced then, as though he was contemplating. “There's something else too—another side that I can't quite put a label on yet. She's great at showing the love and triumphant spirit in each family she portrays. I was also impressed by the way she didn't try to persuade you to change your mind when you turned down the book.”

Quay's hands met in a single clap. “There you go! Now that, at least, warrants her a little benefit of the doubt.”

Quest groaned, knowing where his twin was headed next. “My position still stands,” he said and left the desk.

“Well, at least we won't have to waste time talkin' business during our dinner date,” Quay reasoned with a lazy shrug.

Quest's expression tightened as he strolled toward the elevator.

“Where're you goin'?” Quay called, but received no reply.

 

Mick was fluffing out the unruly curls across her head. She and County were scheduled to have dinner later and she was trying to decide whether to do anything different with the mop of riotous locks. The doorbell chimed then and Mick took that as confirmation to let her hair alone. It'd never obey her wishes to stay pulled into an elaborate updo anyway, she thought with a disapproving snort.

Turning quickly, she shuffled toward the door. The long ears on her bunny slippers slapped the carpet as her steps quickened. She figured it was County, but looked out the peephole anyway. A quick “oh” wisped past her lips when she glimpsed her visitor.

“Damn it,” she whispered, glancing down at her attire, which consisted of a cap-sleeved tee with a pair of glittery pink lips emblazoned across her breasts. The sleep pants hugged her hips, while flattering her bottom in the most adoring manner, and were covered with hundreds of full pink lips. Then there were the bunny slippers….

“Oh, what the hell, he's already seen me dressed up,” she reasoned and flung open the door. Her expression was light and inviting as she prepared to greet Quaysar Ramsey. But the easy look in her amber stare turned questioning as she gazed up at the man who filled her doorway. Subconsciously, she took a step backward.

“Mr. Ramsey,” she greeted, her coolness returning a bit. “I was hoping to meet you before I left town.”

Now it was Quest's turn to appear confused. “You know who I am?” he asked, obvious disbelief clinging to every word.

Mick nodded, her soft smile instantly drawing his eyes to her mouth.

“How?” he probed after commanding himself not to allow the woman's X-rated lips to make him lose track of his senses.

Mick was surprised by her intuition as well, but realized that although the Ramsey twins were clearly identical, they possessed distinct differences. Especially Quest. For some reason, Mick believed she would know him anywhere, and that belief was more than a little disconcerting.

At last, she shrugged. “It's my secret,” she said in a prim tone, her heart fluttering when his laughter touched her ears.
Stop it, Mick!
she demanded, feeling completely disgusted by her light-headed behavior.

“I'm sorry for keeping you in the hall, please come in,” she urged with a gracious wave as she stepped aside.

Quest stood just inside the suite. Mick closed the door and waited for him to precede her to the living room, but he didn't move. Finally, she realized that he was waiting on her to precede him.

“Could I get you something or have something sent up?” Mick offered as she breezed into the living area.

Quest shook his head. “I'm good. Don't go to any trouble.”

For a moment, they stood opposite one another in the room. Finally, Mick nodded. “Please have a seat,” she invited.

Quest simply waved one hand toward the cushiony cream furnishings, and Mick saw that he was waiting for her to do so first. She responded slowly, almost stunned that this man could actually possess the rare—in her opinion, the
extremely
rare—quality of gallantry. She watched him settle into the armchair across from her and recalled the meeting with his brother.

Quest Ramsey, she surmised, moved far differently
from his brother, whose movements were bold and purpose-filled. He wasn't slow, awkward, or uncertain, but smooth and relaxed. It was as though he had all the time in the world and the world was waiting on him.

In the golden light of the room, Mick could assess the package more clearly. County had called the twins chocolate-dipped, but Quest's skin was flawless, even toned, and appeared as though he'd been doused in rich molasses. Even at a distance, she could tell his midnight hair was silky, but close cut so that it appeared as a mass of waves across his head. Still, it was his eyes that most captivated her. They were deep-set beneath the longest, straightest brows and fringed with even longer lashes. Those were lashes unfair for any
man
to have.
A god indeed,
she admitted.

Quest sat reclined in his chair. His massive hands rested along the arms as though he was waiting patiently for her to complete her assessment. When she smiled again, he couldn't have been more stunned to feel his own heartbeat lose its steady rhythm in response.

“Michaela Sellars.” She saw fit to introduce herself then and watched as he grinned and nodded.

“Quest Ramsey,” was his soft reply.

“Now that we have the intros out of the way,” Quest teased once the laughter had subsided between them, “I suppose you're wondering why I'm here?”

Mick shrugged a bit while sitting on the edge of the chair with her hands clasped in her lap. “Well, your brother already told me you were against having the book written. I'm sure you haven't changed your mind?” she probed.

“I haven't,” Quest confirmed with a slow shake of his head. “My brother tends to act first and ask questions…well, never,” he mused.

Mick smiled over the comment. “I enjoyed our talk. He really made me want to laugh.”

Quest couldn't mask his surprise. “Made you want to laugh?” he parroted.

“It was so hard not burst into laughter. He was trying so hard not to offend me or upset me since the book was canceled,” she shared, shaking her head as she remembered. “I could tell that he was holding back a bit from being too forward or outspoken. He must've been quite the clown in school.”

Now Quest threw back his head and let loose a roar
of laughter. “Quay would have a fit if he knew you felt that way.”

Mick's eyes narrowed a tad. “Could you, um, elaborate on why?” she asked, trying to downplay how taken she was by the sound of his voice. His amusement only made him appear more gorgeous, if that were possible.

“My brother is the consummate Casanova,” Quest said, resting one hand against the cobalt blue shirt where it lay across his abdomen. “If you'll excuse me for saying so, Ms. Sellars, the man's been racking his brain trying to think of a way to get you into bed,” he confided.

Mick was stunned, but not by Quest's candor. “I don't believe it,” she said. “I can't believe he was that taken by me.”

Quest's easy expression faded to one of disbelief. At that point, it was his turn to assess her. Not that he'd stopped tracing and retracing her every dip and curve in his mind since she had visited his office earlier that day.

Upon first glance, he'd regarded her as being exceptionally short. Now he could tell that while she wasn't exceedingly tall, she did have a nice height. Her legs had appeared shapely and well toned as though she frequently worked out. Thanks to her T-shirt's capped sleeves, he could tell that her arms were just as well toned and a creamy brown color stretched all over her alluring figure. Seated across from her, he enjoyed the hypnotic tug of her eyes. The way they just slanted at the corners, the coolly engaging amber shade could easily be compared to that of some exotic tigress.

Once again, his gray stare settled to her mouth—a perfect rendering of the heart shape if he had ever seen one. The mole was perfectly,
sensually
positioned in the corner and rivaled her eyes for hypnotic power.

“I guess I'll have to watch him when we have dinner tomorrow night,” Mick contemplated, having missed the set look on her guest's face.

Quest blinked. “Yeah,” he acknowledged with a slow nod, “how long will you stay in Seattle?”

Mick sighed in a refreshing tone, while leaning back to survey the elegant comfort of the suite. “I hadn't planned to stay long, but since the book is dead and this is such a lovely town, I've considered staying awhile longer.” She fixed him with a polite, expectant smile. “Any suggestions on where to go when I sightsee?”

“The museums, definitely,” Quest replied without hesitation. “We've got tons,” he boasted. “Five art museums, five cultural museums, and almost two hundred art galleries.”

“Wow,” Mick whispered, already contemplating what she'd like to see first. “I think I will make this a longer trip. Thanks for putting us in such a lovely place.”

Quest closed his eyes briefly while waving his hand. “It's nothing, but I can always arrange to lengthen your stay in the hotel,” he offered.

“I have no idea how long I'll be.”

Quest propped his index finger alongside his temple and traced the outline of her breasts heaving prominently against the glittering pair of lips emblazoned on her T-shirt. “I'll arrange for you to stay as long as you like,” he decided in an absent tone and coolly looked away when she found him staring.

Quest discovered that without trying and without even subtly throwing herself at him—which women did so often it'd become second nature for him to spot—Michaela Sellars had him mesmerized. He didn't even want to talk, he only wanted to hear
her
talk, he only wanted to watch her as she spoke.

“I should go,” he decided suddenly.

“But you just got here,” Mick blurted, scooting closer to the edge of her chair. Realizing her slip, she
closed her eyes and tugged her bottom lip between her teeth.

Quest smiled and shook his head, delighted by her appearance. The action had changed her features from lovely and sensual to adorable and childlike. The mix was incredible.
Go, Quest
, his conscience warned, and he agreed. It'd be a mistake to remain any longer when he'd already experienced such a powerful reaction to her.

“You look about ready to turn in,” he noted, grasping for the first excuse he could find.

Mick noticed her clothing and rolled her eyes. “I was about to get ready for dinner with my publisher,” she explained.

“Well then,” he conceded, waving his hand as though the decision was solidified.

Mick watched him sitting across from her with his fingers tapping against the cream fabric of his trousers. Slowly, she rose from her chair and her lips parted in surprise when he followed suit. Obviously, he'd been waiting for her to stand. Gorgeous and gallant, she observed silently.
Don't let him see you drool, Mick!
Clearing her throat, she clapped her hands to her sides. “You never got to the point of your visit,” she reminded him.

By then, Quest had closed what distance remained between them. Mick could feel her lashes fluttering as a shiver kissed her bare arms in response to the sexy, midnight giant who stood so very close.

“I only wanted to apologize for wasting your time,” he said, his eyes appearing a darker shade of gray as they studied every inch of her face. “I have a lot of people in my family who never stop to consider consequences. I'm sorry you got caught up in it.”

“It's okay,” Mick whispered, knowing she was watching him as though he were the cherry atop a sinfully
rich sundae. Sadly, she was helpless to do anything to stop herself.

Quest stared down at her a few moments longer before urging her to accompany him to the door.

“Good night,” he said, his hand poised on the brass knob. He smiled, hearing the hushed quality of her voice when she returned the sentiment.

Mick watched him step out into the hall. Instead of closing the door, she studied him as he strolled to the elevator bay. As though sensing her eyes on him, Quest turned once the doors opened. He flashed her one last smile—an incredible smile. Michaela's hand was resting against her thigh. She wriggled her fingers in some sort of awkward wave before disappearing back into her room.

 

County closed her eyes as she popped another succulent scallop into her mouth. “Mmm… I've always heard Seattle had the best seafood, but there's nothing like tasting it for yourself,” she raved, this time helping herself to another spoonful of fish chowder.

“Mmm-hmm, it
is
somethin' else.”

“I mean, I definitely plan to take a hearty doggie bag back to my room,” County decided.

Mick stirred her clam chowder with an idle hand. Clearly, her thoughts were miles away from the evening's meal at the hotel restaurant where they dined.

“Isn't the chowder rich?… Mick?” County called, still focused on her food. Finally, the silence from the opposite end of the table grabbed her attention. She didn't waste time calling out to her friend again. County was more interested in observing then. She and Mick had been dining for almost an hour. In that time, Mick hadn't uttered a single sarcastic or cynical
remark. She barely tasted her food and spent much of the time staring off into the distance.

Finally, County pushed her plate aside and perched her hands along the edge of the table. “All right, spill it,” she ordered.

Mick blinked out of her daze and fixed County with a slight frown.

“Don't even,” County urged with a brief hand wave. “I've been waiting—
very
patiently, I'm proud to say—for you to tell me about your meeting with the twins. Now, is your quiet, soft-spoken, and completely uncharacteristic demeanor a result of that meeting?”

Mick set her spoon aside and groaned in response.

“Damn, Mick,” County whined, “you haven't even told me what they look like—just that they declined the book. At least give me
one
warm and fuzzy tidbit to take with me so I won't feel the trip was a
total
waste.”

Mick's expression remained solemn for a moment longer, and then she softened. “They looked like dreams,” she confided eventually. Surprise registered on County's face, but she ignored it. “They're well deserving of being called gods.”

County leaned back against her seat, rubbing her hands across the satiny sleeves of her coral V-neck hoodie, and listened.

“They're exactly identical—like bookends,” Mick described, staring into the distance as though she were envisioning them then. “But when you look closer, you can see little differences in their physical appearance.
Distinct
differences everywhere else.”

“Oh, really?” County drawled, thoroughly intrigued by the emerging new aspect to her friend's demeanor.

“Their eye colors are different,” Mick described while tugging at the three-quarter sleeve of the tan boatneck top she wore. “Quests's eyes are this cool shade of gray that seems to darken at times. When he looks at you, it's like he's put all his attention on you
and only you. Like what you're saying is the most important thing in the world to him. His cologne is fantastic. I can't place what it is, but it smells incredible and he's got this deep dimple on the left side of his cheek…”

County was trying to keep her smile from growing wide. Clearly, her cynical best friend had been more impressed by Quest Ramsey.
And the poor thing doesn't even realize it!
County mused.

“And he's such a gentleman. So gallant.”

Now County was floored.
Gallant?
she repeated in her head, while folding her arms across her chest. She didn't think Mick even had that word in her vocabulary when it came to describing a man. Especially not a man she'd just met.

“Sweetie, I have to admit this is surprising talk coming from you,” she admitted once Mick's description of the twins had ended. “That must've been
some
meeting.”

Mick shrugged and reached for her spoon. “Actually, I only met Quest when he came to my hotel room. He wasn't at the meeting,” she revealed coolly.

County's mouth fell open. “Your hotel room?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Mick!” County raged and slammed her palms to the table. “You selfish wench.”

“What?” Mick whined, nervously recrossing her jean-clad legs beneath the table.

“You couldn't come get me from my room, I guess?”

Mick smiled and shook her head. “I was just as surprised to see him and he didn't even stay that long. I don't even think it was fifteen minutes.”

County heard the disappointment in Mick's voice and she could see it in her eyes. “He didn't stay long, but he had quite an effect on you.”

“Stop, I know what you're getting at, and it was nothing like that,” Mick insisted. “Quest Ramsey
could easily make an impression on any woman,” she predicted.

“But no man's ever made such an
impression
on you so quickly.”

Mick waved off County's observation. “Forget it.”

“Oh well.” County sighed, leaning forward to resume her eating. “At least I'll have your warm, fuzzy memories to take back when we leave.”

Mick pressed her lips together and prepared herself. “Um, actually I've decided to stay a little longer. Quest already offered to extend my stay.”

“Indefinitely?” County blurted, shaking her head when Mick shrugged her confirmation. “Damn, I should've sent
my
photo instead.”

“He was only trying to be kind, County,” Mick reasoned, giving a quick toss of her tousled curls. “I mean, it wasn't like he was trying to stay in my room any longer than necessary or anything.”

“Still, Mick, for him to offer that,
you
must've made quite an impression of your own,” County decided.

Mick laughed softly. “Well, I guess that's definitely true of Quaysar. He asked me out to dinner,” she said, peeking through the fringe of her lashes to judge her publisher's reaction.

“Damn,” County grunted, stabbing a scallop with her fork when she heard Mick laughing. After a moment, she couldn't resist joining in.

The remainder of their dinner continued with a lively conversation about the Ramsey brothers.

 

After dinner, Mick and County made plans to sightsee the next day. After saying their good nights in the lobby, Mick headed for the front desk.

“Good evening, ma'am,” the concierge greeted.

“Good evening, I'd like to find out about extending my stay. The name is Michaela Sellars, room 1930.”

The tall, middle-aged man was already entering the information into his desktop. “Sellars…ah! Yes, ma'am, that's already been arranged.”

“It has?” Mick questioned, her brows connecting in a frown. “I don't understand.”

“Yes, ma'am, Mr. Ramsey lengthened your stay when he visited earlier.”

“He did?” she asked in a dumbfounded tone, barely taking note of the concierge's curt nod. “He must've stopped by before he left.”