A Sweet Possibility (Archer Cove Series Book 2) (4 page)

"You're hardly 'just a lawyer.' Caryn has one of the firm's most high-profile cases," Quinn explained. "You may have heard about that senator who was charged with misappropriating campaign funds?"

"I work in white-collar criminal defense," she explained with a smile as her eyes flitted to Jessie and back to Quinn again. "It's a living."

"A great one," he added. "You were just named one of the top trial lawyers in the state under 40 years old. Did I congratulate you for that?"

She waved a hand. "It's nothing. You know, John Green —"

This was about the point at which Jessie's eyes lost focus and she started staring at the floorboards. Blah blah blah. Message delivered: Quinn thought Caryn was amazeballs. Jessie's cheeks hurt from forcing that smile for so long. After several more minutes passed, she'd had enough.

"Hey, did you see that ice sculpture?" She pulled at Quinn's jacket and pointed to a large, definitely bra-less ice mermaid. "She looks cold."

Quinn glanced over his shoulder before looking back at Caryn. "Yes, it's nice."

"Maybe we should walk around a little." Jessie shivered as a cool breeze brushed past her legs. Specifically, she wanted to walk into the cabin, where it was certainly warmer than it was on deck, and far away from Caryn.

"Jessie's never seen the yacht before," Quinn said apologetically.

"Oh. Then you should get a tour." Caryn smiled stiffly and set a hand on Quinn's forearm. "I'm sure we'll see each other later. Nice to meet you, Jessie."

Was it her imagination, or was Caryn looking down her nose at her? "You too," she murmured.

Quinn watched Caryn walk away for a brief moment before appearing to catch himself and come back to reality. He smiled and held out his arm. "I'm guessing you want some shrimp?"

Jessie reached over and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, feeling her smile weaken. "Whatever. I'm not picky."

I
t was
like Jessie had put on that dress, curled her hair, plastered her face with makeup, and promptly forgotten how much she despised these kinds of events. After a while, awash in that sea of tuxedoes, she imagined all the men as puffed-up penguins, some with fat cigars. There had been caviar and shrimp cocktail. Oysters on the half shell. Lobster tail for dinner, and a rich mousse topped with shaved chocolate and a single strawberry slice for dessert. And in between all of those courses, there had been maddening small talk and, for her, some detail fudging.

She wasn't lying, per se. More like glossing over details. What did she do for a living? She worked in the entertainment industry, which was sort of true because she did cater events every now and then. Where did she live? She had a little place on the beach. Again, the fact that she was currently renting an eight-hundred-square-foot cottage at a far below market rate didn't matter. Technical truth counted. But reworking the truth into something more palatable and impressive for that audience had left Jessie feeling drained by the end of the evening. She was grateful to finally have a few minutes alone with Quinn.

He was so handsome, with his strong jawline and his blond hair. He had that all-American look about him, and she thought of how she used to watch him from the bleachers as he played football when they were in high school, dreaming about the day he'd know she existed. Now there they were, on a beautiful yacht — and falling in love. Possibly. A little bit at a time. Her heart positively swelled at the thought.

As they sat in a private corner of the yacht, she rested her chin on his shoulder and said, "Want to get out of here?"

"Already?" He glanced at his watch. "We just had dessert."

"Yeah, I know, but..." She didn't complete the thought.

"But what?"

She pulled back and tightened the shawl around her shoulders. How about, But we've barely seen each other in weeks, and you're always working, but for tonight your bosses are all drunk on a yacht and won't call you into the office? She wanted to say that, but instead she eased back into her seat and said, "It's kind of cold."

"Here, take my jacket."

Sweet, but so not the point. "No, it's fine."

He paused, his jacket half off. "I thought you were cold?" He pulled it back on with a snap. "Sometimes I don't get you."

"Well then, that makes two of us." She smoothed her skirt down hastily. "You've put in your face time. Don't you want to go somewhere else? Like, maybe my place?"

Damn it, was it too much to ask to have sex with her own boyfriend? Did she have to come out and actually tell him what she wanted? It had been three weeks, for God's sake! Her lady parts were getting cobwebs. But Quinn patted her on the knee and said, "Later. I can't leave right now."

Jessie set her head back against the top of the seat and stared at the sky. The marina was brightly lit, and the committee of E&P wives who had planned that lovely gathering had strung white paper lanterns overhead. Scratch that — they'd hired someone to string the lanterns overhead. But in that little corner, the lighting was dim enough that Jessie could see the stars. "Do you ever think about what you want out of life, Quinn?"

"All the time. That's why I pull seventy-hour weeks." He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "I want partnership. Then I want to buy a place on the cliffs. A nice house overlooking the ocean, where I can have parties like this one." He looked at her. "It's expected, you know. Partners have to make the effort. All of these partners here? The entire family supports their careers."

Jessie's gaze slid to Samantha Rodriguez, who was, in her eyes, the quintessential E&P wife. Stunning. Leggy. Vivacious. She was nodding warmly as another E&P wife appeared to confide something, ever the patient ear. Samantha looked perfectly polished in a raspberry-colored dress that flattered her thin figure. See, she told herself, that's how one wears color. Jessie glanced downward at her own chartreuse attempt, and then tried to hide as much of it as possible under her shawl. "Yes, I know," she muttered. She pressed her lips together. "Is that what you want? A family?"

There was a painfully hopeful twinge to her voice as she asked. Somehow, in the hours since she'd decided to have this Conversation, she'd convinced herself that this party would give them the opportunity that several months of dating hadn't. She'd imagined that Quinn would be excited enough to see her that she would receive his undivided attention, and that just maybe, he'd be as eager as she was to talk about their future together.

Instead, he patted her knee again and said, "I think I know where this is going. Look, my entire focus has to be on partnership right now. Okay? This is the chance of a lifetime, and any setback could be disastrous." He grinned. "I'm playing the big game. I've gotta keep my head in it, lose the distractions."

She smiled feebly. "You know how I love sports metaphors." The disappointment rose in her chest. "I've had a long day, and I need to be at the bakery by five in the morning, so maybe I'll call a cab."

He issued a long sigh and stared at the deck. "You know I'm not going to let you do that." He swept his hand up and down his cheek. "I guess I've got to give you a ride."

She rose to her feet, stumbling slightly as the yacht rocked. "We can go say good-bye —"

"Nah. I'll drop you off and come back."

They headed down the walkway to the dock, back to the valet station in the marina parking lot. The drive home was quiet, the awkwardness palpable. Jessie clenched and unclenched her fists as she struggled to find the words that would make whatever was happening between them right. "Maybe we could —"

"Listen," he said, charging right into her thoughts. "I think we should take a break."

No. Her blood pooled at her feet. "Take a break?"

"Maybe not forever, but like I said, I need to put my focus on making partner. It's just not the right time for a girlfriend. You seem to want something more, and I don't want to hold you back. I'm not looking for anything serious. I thought I was clear."

They'd pulled in front of the cottage, alongside the curb. Jessie swallowed painfully, but didn't move. "You...I thought we were —"

"I don't know how to say this, so I'm just going to put it out there." He shifted in his seat to face her. "We're not a match. You're a great girl, but I guess I'm just looking for someone...different."

The breath fled her lungs as the statement settled. "You don't think I'm good enough for you," she whispered.

He covered her hand with his. "No. I didn't say that. Those are your words. But I'm busy with my career, and I need someone by my side who has certain social skills, let's say. And that's not to say that your skills aren't great, but they're different, you see what I'm saying?"

Jessie stared at him, slack-jawed. "No, I don't. I don't see what you're saying."

He turned away again, gripping two sides of the steering wheel and staring out into the darkness before them. "You grew up in a bakery, and that's fine. But I need someone who has a little more...business sense. Networking skills. Someone who's comfortable at these kinds of events. I mean, Jess." He looked at her. "You got drunk at a baby shower this morning."

She couldn't breathe. He may as well have slapped her. She looked down at herself, at her ugly, frumpy green dress and shawl that didn't match. So Quinn thought she wasn't good enough for him? Her skin burned with shame, and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

"So, are we good?" he said.

Where to start? Her brain was misfiring. "I'm thinking," she whispered.

He sighed. "Take your time. Look, I don't mean to hurt your feelings, and maybe we'll go out again some other time. Just not for now. Jess? Are you listening to me?"

She could barely focus above the pounding in her ears. Jessie wrapped her hands tightly around her clutch, pulling it closer to her chest. "I have to go."

She opened the car door and stepped outside. Without another word, she shut the door behind her and hurried to her front door. As she fit the key into the lock, she heard Quinn's car set off and drive away into the night.

N
ate had turned
out the lights and was climbing into bed when his cell phone rang. He reached across his nightstand, fumbling in the dark, and brought the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey buddy. I need a favor."

He cringed at the sound of the voice on the other end of the phone. Another drunk call, and these were becoming increasingly frequent. "Where are you, Quinn?"

"I dunno. Wait."

He heard him mumble incoherently and crash into something metal before coming back on the phone and saying, "You still there?"

"I'm here."

"I'm near Landry's. By the steps."

Landry's was a bar on the other side of town. "You stay there. Sit on the steps, okay?" Nate flung off the sheets and set his bare feet on the floorboards. "Quinn? Did you hear me?"

In response, Nate heard a choke in Quinn's voice, followed by a muffled sob. His heart clenched. "What happened?" He didn't wait for a response before grabbing his keys and reaching for his jeans. Had Quinn tried to drive in this condition? It wouldn't have been the first time. "Talk to me. Are you in trouble?" He was already pulling on his pants.

"No." Quinn sniffed. "Yes."

It sounded more like "yesh." He must've been drinking for hours. "I'm on my way. Do you need me to call for help? Tell me what happened."

The question sent Quinn slurring into the receiver, his voice cracking. "I was with her, man."

Nate froze, one leg of his pants dangling loosely. "You were with who?" He regretted the question the second he heard it out loud. He didn't want to hear the answer.

"Caryn." Quinn's voice was suddenly quiet, as if the admission had sobered him. "I hooked up with Caryn."

Nate's blood went cold. "Shit, man." He looked out the bedroom window at the moon, hanging heavy and white in the sky. "Caryn?"

He heard the sound of a siren passing close to Quinn. When the sound passed, Quinn said, "I think I love her."

Damn it. Nate zipped and buttoned his jeans and reached for a sweatshirt. "Sit tight. I'm on my way." He pulled on a pair of running shoes and headed out the door.

This was the way it had been for as long as Nate could remember. He and Quinn had been inseparable from the first day of kindergarten because they complimented each other so well. Quinn was the bold one, the team sport jock. Captain of the football and lacrosse teams, top of his class academically. Serious and smart, but with an irresponsible streak. He had a tendency to get himself into the hot seat on a regular basis, but he had a knack for talking his way out of most problems. For all the other ones, Nate was there.

He thought of their many misadventures as he made the drive to Landry's. Where had it started? Probably with sneaking cookies from the jar at home. Then there were the pranks at school, like that time Quinn bought twenty rolls of crepe paper in school colors and decorated the trees for homecoming, or that time he organized a secret after-hours party in the high school pool. Kid stuff, really, and Nate had loved being a part of it. But then Nate grew up. If he'd ever enjoyed partying — and he wasn't sure he had — he didn't any more. He had a business to run and a life to manage. He didn't have the energy to spend nights at the bar the way Quinn did. Or to lie about it.

That was the part that killed him, that Quinn was out most nights at a bar, not working late like he told Jessie. To her, he was some sainted hard worker, toiling into the wee hours at his desk. More like
her
, because she'd been pulling double shifts for years now. It was like Quinn knew exactly what to say to Jessie to keep her hanging on no matter how awful he was to her. Hey, babe. You know I'm working for partnership. And Jessie would relay the conversation to Nate. "Oh, well," she'd say with a sunny smile and a shrug of her shoulders. "He's trying to make something of himself. I understand completely."

Sometimes Nate wondered whether his loyalty had become misplaced somewhere along the course of their friendship.

As he drew closer to the bar, Nate resolved to tell his friend the truth. "You're thirty years old, man. Time to grow up. Stop hanging out in bars every night." When what he wanted to say was, "Do whatever you want, but leave Jessie out of it. Just leave her alone." She was a sweet girl, and she deserved the truth. But he knew as he pulled up into an alley beside Landry's that he would say what he always did, which was nothing at all.