From Boss to Bridegroom (11 page)

The air between them thickened, weighted with awareness. He hadn't realized how close their faces were. Her bow-shaped mouth, pink and soft, parted on a sigh. Quinn swallowed hard.

That wasn't an invitation.
Was it?

His heart picked up speed, pumping hard like it did in the midst of a fencing match.

She's your employee, Darling. Hands off.

It wasn't easy heeding the voice of reason. Not when she was warm and close, her expression open to him like never before.

“I, ah—” he awkwardly disengaged his finger “—suppose we should probably join your family. I've monopolized your time.”

She blinked. Color flooded her face. “Yes, that's a good plan.”

As they traversed the dandelion-dotted field in silence, careful not to accidentally brush against each other, he wondered how much experience Nicole had had with interested suitors. Probably little to none, if he was her first date.

Quinn wondered if she'd meet someone special in the city, if she'd ever make room in her life for anything other than her sewing. It'd be a pity if she spent the whole of her life alone. Nicole had a lot to offer, even if she wasn't aware of it.

He had never been in love. He'd thought he had something special with Helene Michelson. The daughter of millionaire Donald Michelson, she'd arrived in Boston with her parents eighteen months ago and had made an instant impression on him. Petite, blonde and outgoing, she'd shared his passion for athletic pursuits, eagerly joining him on horseback riding and boating excursions. After months of courting her in earnest, Quinn had begun to consider marriage.

That was before he overheard her talking with her friends. He'd learned she wasn't as interested in being his wife so much as being a Darling. His name—and the status attached to it—had been her desired prize.

The revelation and subsequent breakup had spurred the beginnings of his shift in priorities. He didn't want a superficial life. He craved something substantial. Something real. Lasting. Precious.

Luring Nicole out of her shell was fun, even fascinating at times, but it was a temporary distraction. She didn't meet his requirements. And he certainly didn't meet hers.

Chapter Twelve

W
hat almost happened back there?

Thick grass snagging on her hem as they neared her family's picnic spot, Nicole felt strangely let down, which in turn left her cranky and resentful. Inviting Quinn to join her had been a dumb idea. He took pleasure in pushing her out of her realm of comfort, teasing her all the while, prodding at her defenses until she was open and exposed and then...nothing.

She was a game to him. A shiny, new toy to explore and then discard.

Why am I letting him get to me, anyway? I'm not interested in romance.

Beneath all this pulsed an undercurrent of guilt. Here she was, freely attending a holiday celebration, while Patrick and Lillian were stuck in their meager shack, trapped there until the sun went down. Lillian would take such delight in the music. And Patrick would relish the food. He, especially, needed encouragement. Friends his own age.

This isn't fair, God. I hate what they're having to endure.

When they reached the soaring, wide-limbed sugar maple where her sisters and cousins and extended family members had gathered, Nathan's wife, Sophie, took one look at Nicole and gaped. She elbowed Nathan, who was seated beside her. As a speculative smile creased his face, Nicole fiddled with her earbobs. Was her appearance causing this reaction? Her hair was a mess and she was
perspiring
. In public.

Or was it Quinn's presence beside her?

Hopping up, Sophie made eye contact with Rebecca, who was relaxing against Caleb's shoulder, and Megan.

Sophie reached her first. “Can I talk to you?”

“Um, I guess so.”

“If you're ready for lunch, there's a spot beside the twins.” Sophie flashed a smile at Quinn. “I won't keep her long, I promise.”

Linking arms, the shorter girl led Nicole a short distance away, using a cluster of dogwood trees to block them from view.

Nicole spoke first, attempting to head off the coming inquisition. “That's a new dress. Did you make it?”

Skimming her palms over the paisley skirts, Sophie blushed prettily. “I've been practicing what you taught me. Does it look all right?”

Nicole circled her, tugging here and there to test the stitches, satisfied with the way the cotton draped her form. Before Sophie married Nathan, she'd been a tomboy, content in men's clothing and her honey-blond hair in a haphazard braid. Nicole had gladly aided in her transformation to stylish young lady.

“Your skills have improved. It's beautiful. Your hair looks nice, too.”

Sophie beamed, fingers skittering over the sophisticated twist. “Nathan doesn't mind whether I wear it up or down.” A dimple flashed. “Actually, that's not true. He prefers it hanging loose so he can run his fingers through it.”

Nicole squelched the burst of envy. She absolutely was not jealous. “That would hardly be appropriate for an event such as this.”

Megan and Rebecca rounded the dogwoods, and Nicole found herself the center of attention. “What?”

Megan seemed to be bursting with curiosity. “You came with Quinn.”

“So?”

“I thought you didn't like him.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “What's not to like? He's handsome, a true gentleman and the way he looks at you...”

“He's my
boss
,” Nicole muttered, instinctively clamming up. “I only asked him because he hasn't made many friends here.”

Rebecca gasped, jade-colored eyes going wide. “
You
asked
him
?”

“I can't recall a time you ever gave a man the time of day.” Megan's white-blond curls shone in the bright sunshine, her porcelain skin enhanced by the aquamarine hue of her formfitting dress. “Come on, sis. Tell us the truth. You fancy him, don't you?”

Nicole could feel the emotion leaching from her face, could feel the ingrained response kicking in.
Stay cool and deny everything
, her mind was insisting.

Her and Quinn's conversation that night in the springhouse came back to her. He'd been adamant in his opinion that others would like to get close to her. Sophie, Megan and Rebecca were family. How many times had they reached out to her, only to be rebuffed?
It's my fault I feel left out, isn't it, God? Not theirs.

Please help. Sharing my innermost thoughts doesn't come naturally. Of course, I don't have to tell You that.

“To be honest...” She pushed the words past her dry throat, clasping her hands tightly at her waist. “I can't explain how I feel about Quinn.”

The three females surrounding her exchanged glances.

“Try,” Megan insisted.

“He is good-looking.” At Sophie's nod, Nicole held up a finger. “But he knows it. He's bossy. Smug.” She recalled how he'd defended her against Kenneth and his buddies. “He's also protective. Brave. He values honesty. Family.”

Rebecca smoothed her rich, copper-streaked brown hair away from her brow. “That's a good start. How does he make you feel?”

“Oh, that's easy. Angry. Frustrated—” she ticked off her fingers “—confused.”

“Confused?”

“When he puts his arms around me, I kind of melt into him and I feel safe and warm and yet—” She broke off, not about to admit this unnameable longing he evoked in her.

“Wait. He put his arms around you?” Megan's brows shot to her hairline. “Did he
kiss
you?”

Oops. She wasn't supposed to mention the springhouse.

“
Ew.
No, my boss did not kiss me.” Although, hadn't that been on both their minds mere minutes ago? His perfect, slightly arrogant mouth had hovered inches from hers, brown eyes glittering. Her palms went damp.

“Why was he holding you?” Rebecca said.

“I—I was cold. Look, I'm starving. I didn't eat breakfast.”

Her sister stopped her exit with a gentle, staying hand. A trembling smile lit up her face. “It means a lot that you shared what's in your heart, sis.”

Nicole found herself returning the smile. “It wasn't as horrid as I thought it'd be.”

Megan hugged her. “Don't worry, we won't repeat a word.”

* * *

Thankfully Quinn didn't ask about their conversation. Nor did he try to goad her into taking part in any more contests. They passed the remainder of the afternoon in the company of her family, her uncle and cousins engaging him in a variety of topics.

It was midafternoon when they began to pack up their things. Nicole assumed she'd accompany her mother and sisters home while Quinn returned to his quarters in the mercantile, but he insisted on walking with her.

“It's the gentlemanly thing to do. It's my duty to see you home.”

“It that a Boston rule?”

“It's a Darling rule.” He waited patiently for her to take his arm, challenge lurking in his eyes.

The afternoon had been a trying one on many levels. She yearned to be alone with her thoughts, needle and thread in hand and a creation taking shape beneath her stitches. But he was adamant.

Sighing, she took it, keenly aware of the hard muscle beneath her fingertips and the occasional brush of their shoulders as they walked. Strolling along the darkened store fronts, she glanced surreptitiously at his profile.

Had Quinn ever been in love? He'd intimated people admired him solely for his wealth and status, but there was more to him than that. In addition to his good looks, he had a quick wit and dynamic personality. He could be kind and thoughtful when he put his mind to it.

Not that she'd ever tell him that.

“What's brewing in that mysterious mind of yours?” Angling his head, he met her gaze head-on without missing a step.

“I'm wondering how you managed to escape the parson's trap.”

“Ah. I thought you didn't consider me suitable husband material.”

“I never said that, you know.”

“You didn't have to,” he said, and chuckled softly.

Her heart skipped a beat, wondering what it would be like to be Quinn's wife. His high-handed attitude would make her crazy within a week...and they'd argue in spectacular fashion...but she'd heard about makeup kisses. And she imagined Quinn was an expert in that area.

“In the eyes of Boston's impressionable young socialites, I'm certain you were considered quite the catch.”

They crossed the wooden bridge suspended above the bustling river, their boots thudding against the worn slats. Something in his expression turned pensive, and she wondered at the cause.

“As a matter of fact, I came very close to binding myself to one particular young lady. I suppose I'm fortunate to have discovered her true motives before it was too late.”

The hurt in his voice troubled her, and she unconsciously squeezed his arm.

“I'm sorry, Quinn.”

“I was sorry for a long time, too.”

Nicole strove to comprehend this revelation. So much of the time, he projected a carefree attitude. To know that his heart was as capable of injury as the next person's altered her view of him.

Against her better judgment, she gave in to the burning desire to question him. “What happened?”

He averted his face toward the lush forest on his side of the quiet lane, steps steady and slow and matched to hers.

“You don't have to tell me,” she murmured. “I shouldn't have prodded.”

“I had begun to suspect I was in love with Helene,” he started quietly.

Envy snaked its way around her throat, surprising in its intensity, threatening to choke off her air supply. It was wrong, so wrong to envy this unknown woman who'd ensnared Quinn's affections.
Good thing you don't covet his admiration
, she comforted herself.
That would be unreasonable. And foolhardy.

“We had a lot in common. I assumed we could have a good life together.” His lips flattened. “Turns out I misjudged her. Helene wasn't with me because she cared about me, about the man I am when the superficial is stripped away.”

“She was after your fortune?”

“And the prestige that comes from marrying into the Darling family,” he said matter-of-factly.

“So Helene wasn't from an affluent family?”

His lip curled. “As a matter of fact, her father was a business associate of ours. Socially speaking, we were on equal footing.”

“I don't understand.”

“The thing is, Duchess, having money sometimes generates intense greed. People become obsessed with having more. Always more.”

They passed beneath a low-hanging branch, startling a pair of mourning doves. She tracked their upward flight.

He'd said he'd come here for a simpler, more meaningful life. Nicole finally understood what drove him.

“I'm sorry,” she said again, wishing he hadn't had to endure such treatment.

Her heart fluttered at the appearance of his soft smile. “Don't be. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't have recognized what my life was missing. I certainly wouldn't have wound up in this tiny mountain town.”

“Most of Gatlinburg's marriage-minded young ladies come from humble homes. Aren't you worried history will repeat itself? Even if you weren't rich, the fact that you own the mercantile makes you a desirable candidate.”

His gaze probed hers for long, unsettling moments—surely the yearning sliding through the honeyed depths wasn't directed at
her
—before shifting to the lane winding through the trees. His shrug offset his serious demeanor. “I'm trusting God to lead me to the right woman. That's all I can do.”

Ignoring the pinpricks of discomfort his words inspired, she drawled, “Well, if the numerous longing looks cast your way today are anything to go by, you won't lack for options.”

“I'm sure I don't know to what you're referring.”

At his mock innocence, she rolled her eyes. “You mean you didn't see Harriet Nichols nearly tripping and falling face-first into her potato salad when she passed by you?”

“It would've been impossible not to.” He chuckled, shaking his head wryly.

They fell into a companionable silence, with Nicole mentally cataloguing every simpering whisper she'd intercepted while with Quinn. Not one unattached young lady hadn't noted his presence. As soon as the locals figured out that he was all right for a Northerner, he'd be fielding supper invitations left and right.

When her lane came into view, she slipped her hand free and stepped away. Here in the pleasant shade, his hair was a richer hue of black, his skin a shade paler and an undergrowth of bristle visible along his jaws.

Why must she notice these things? And why did he have to be tantalizingly handsome?

“I can make it the rest of the way without incident.”

Slipping his hands in his pockets, he smiled, teeth flashing. “Thank you for today.”

“In spite of my high-handed escort, I had fun.” She smiled. “See you in the morning.”

She'd half turned to leave when his words stopped her. “Oh, I meant to ask you. I saw a box of cream drops in your kitchen earlier. Your mother and sisters didn't have a clue who they were for.”

The burning intensity in his eyes belied his casual tone.

“Why do you care?”

“I noticed how you favor them.” He shrugged. “Just wondering who liked them so much.”

Lillian adored the dainty chocolates. Couldn't get enough.

A panicky feeling skittered through her, white-hot anger on its heels. “You have no right to interrogate me about my purchases. You don't treat your other customers this way. Don't do it to me.”

This anger inflicted pain. She didn't want to be angry at him, not after his revelation and the sense of connectedness it had given her.

Quinn's cool fingers closed over her wrist. He bent close, concern warring with suspicion. “You're overreacting, don't you think? It was a simple question.”