The Best Part of Me (11 page)

Darcy rolled her eyes and mumbled something under her breath that Quinn couldn't hear.

“But seriously, you guys, does this dress make my ass look big?” Lisbeth asked as she tried to look over her shoulder at her own butt. Quinn had to stop herself from scoffing at how self-absorbed Lisbeth was.

“Good God, Lisbeth. That dress barely
covers
your ass.”

Darcy and Lisbeth bickered back and forth as they all waited for Rory's band to start. The sun was hovering over the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow into the amazing lobby space. Quinn squinted out the windows and watched amber and yellow play on the ripples of the water not more than two blocks away. She wasn't sure if it was the Charles River or the Boston Harbor, but it was pretty, whatever it was.

“This building is super-fab and the view is killer, but whoever positioned this lobby should be drawn and quartered,” Darcy complained. “The sun is going to blind people for most of the year right at dusk. I know they wanted to take advantage of the view, but they could have positioned it slightly more to the south and avoided the eye-searing treatment.”

Darcy raised her hand to block the glare as she surveyed the floor-to-ceiling windows. Quinn had learned earlier in the day that Darcy was an interior design student at Rhode Island School of Design in Providence.

Quinn liked the curvy brunette a lot. Darcy was a great buffer between the overly enthusiastic Erin and the pampered and pretentious Lisbeth. She also cussed like a sailor and drank whiskey like it ran through her veins. How the three of these women had become friends was anyone's guess.

Their weekend had started off with shopping in Boston, and it'd given new meaning to “shop till you drop.” Quinn had never been big on shopping, especially for dresses. She much preferred pants and definitely would pick a pair of old cutoffs over a flowery skirt any day.

After they'd all checked into their hotel that morning, the day of torturous shopping had begun and hadn't stopped until Erin had pulled Quinn into every dressing room in downtown Boston, flinging dresses at her left and right.

After much pleading from Erin and the help of a very insistent boutique owner, Quinn had finally agreed to a pair of black skinny pants that were formfitting and sat low on her hips paired with a sheer top that made Quinn break out in hives. It was all black and fit Quinn's torso and chest like a second skin. From waist to breast, she was covered (barely) in a solid spandex material. A sheer black fabric extended up into a crew neck and short capped sleeves.

It looked like a figure-skating outfit, for Christ's sake.

Quinn didn't think she had the body for it, but when her breasts were smashed into the tight top, they were pushed into soft swells just above the solid spandex. Feeling practically naked, she'd insisted on getting a sweater to cover her shoulders. She was now giving serious thought to ditching the sweater because the temperature inside the sunny, people-packed foyer was way too hot to be comfortable.

To finish the ensemble off, she wore a pair of four-inch heels that were bound to make her turn an ankle at some point during the evening. They were all black with a closed toe. In her wildest dreams, Quinn never would have imagined herself wearing such shoes. Maybe after she was done wearing them she could give them to a thrift shop that catered to strippers.

After a thousand assurances from the rest of the girls that she didn't look like a hooker, Quinn had agreed to leave their hotel room and go to the grand opening. The two glasses of red wine that she'd had while getting ready certainly hadn't hurt.

It was funny what a little makeup and sexy clothes could do for a girl's confidence. Quinn had to admit that her legs looked long and slim in the pants and the shoes did wonders for her butt.

Lisbeth wore a dark green minidress with full sleeves. Darcy, with her lovely curves and raven hair, was snug in a long purple tunic and black leggings. And Erin's porcelain skin glowed in an off-the-shoulder navy dress.

The four of them made quite a pretty picture.

“Let's ditch this place and go to a club,” Lisbeth complained, twirling a strand of her blond hair around her finger.

“The first set hasn't even started yet!” Erin cried.

Quinn frowned in confusion. “Are we seriously planning to go somewhere after this?”

Lisbeth laughed. “Duh. There are no men here and the drinks are shit.”

“I agree on the drinks,” Darcy chimed in. “What a cheap bunch of fuckers to have a cash bar. Good thing I filled up my purse with stuff from our hotel mini-fridge.” Darcy opened her purse and started handing out tiny bottles of liquor. Quinn waved her off, perfectly fine with the five-dollar beer Erin had just gotten for her.

“Rum, vodka, and whiskey? That's all you have?”

“Sorry, Lisbeth,” Darcy said with saccharine sincerity. “The Holiday Inn Express must have been out of Dom Perignon.”

Lisbeth rolled her eyes but stopped instantly when a good-looking college student approached the table. Rory's band picked that moment to start tuning their instruments, so Quinn couldn't hear any of what the younger man said to Lisbeth. But moments later, Lisbeth smiled sweetly at him, grabbed the rum and vodka bottles from Darcy's purse, and gave them all a short finger wave as he led her toward the back of the room.

“Bitch,” Darcy hissed, looking down into her near-empty bag.

“I'm gonna go wish Rory good luck. I'll be right back!” Erin slid off her high stool and disappeared into the crowd starting to herd toward the stage. Apparently Rory's band was fairly well known in certain small circles in the Boston area. Erin described them as being a lot like Mumford & Sons. This gig was one of their higher-paying ones, so all the guys were taking it very seriously.

“Honestly, Quinn, you need to get a stiffer drink.” Quinn smiled as she watched Darcy empty a mini-bottle of Jack Daniels into a glass.

“You do realize that each of those minibar bottles are probably twice as expensive as any drink we'd get here, right?”

“Yeah, I know. Lisbeth used her credit card to reserve the room.”

Darcy clanked her tumbler with Quinn's beer. “Here's to Lisbeth for paying out her nose for our drinks. And to us for surviving six hours of pure shopping hell!”

“Amen to that!” Quinn laughed and took a sip.

Darcy threw back her drink in one long gulp. “Ah, that's good,” she sighed.

They spotted Lisbeth and her college student walking up the stairs leading to the auditorium, the guy's hand resting shamelessly on her ass.

“She lives for that type of attention, you know?” Darcy nodded toward Lisbeth.

She certainly was in a league of her own. Lisbeth had the type of look that would work on a Paris runway. “I'm sure she gets a lot of it.”

Darcy nodded. “It's been that way ever since grade school. She juggles guys like a circus act. The only guy who's ever turned her down is Ewan.”

Quinn raised her eyebrows. “Ewan McKenna?”

“Yep. He shot her
down
,” Darcy said, providing sound effects as her hand dove from above her head and crashed onto the table.

The thought of him kissing and touching another woman like he'd done to her last weekend was unsettling. Little hints from Erin and Darcy indicated that he wasn't exactly an angel when it came to women. Since Ewan had pinned her up against the wall and kissed the sense out of her, she could understand why. His pull was irresistible. The power and virility pouring out of him were enough to make her drunk.

Even though he'd kissed her, he'd pretty much shot
her
down afterwards. What else could she call it? She'd practically thrown herself at him and he wasn't interested.

Quinn wasn't the lusty type. Unlike Lisbeth, she could admire a man's looks without immediately fantasizing what it would be like to be in bed with him. But at some point since she'd met Ewan in that dark alley, things had changed. Her thoughts had strayed to not only thinking he was attractive but to a strong urge to rip his shirt off so she could run her hands down his chest. Although her experience with men was limited, she knew his wicked mouth and hands might just make her self-implode.

“Fuck me,” Darcy whispered. Quinn looked her way and saw her friend's eyes were wide with panic. She turned to see Sean McKenna approaching the table. And directly behind him was Ewan.

Quinn almost laughed from the absurdity of seeing him in a place like this. Why in the world was he here?

Of all the small college performing arts center grand openings…

She watched as if the crowd parted for them like the Red Sea. Sean, the golden-haired Apollo, followed by his dark, imposing shadow.

“Jesus, are we glad to see you girls,” Sean said, hooking Darcy around the neck and giving her a rough kiss on the top of her head.

“Get off,” Darcy insisted. Her cheeks heated a little as she shrugged him off. Sean just grinned as he took the seat next to her.

Quinn gave both men a small smile. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Potential client. Ewan's here as my date.”

Quinn glanced over at Ewan, who was looking her way. Not surprisingly, he looked as chipper as ever with his sullen expression.

She tried to keep any sign that she felt uncomfortable off her face. The last time she'd seen him she'd been giving him a thorough oral exam with her tongue. Sure, she felt excited butterflies dancing in her stomach at the sight of him. But she really needed to shut that down immediately.

“Would you care to sit?” Quinn asked Ewan, who was standing there like a grumpy statue near the table. Without replying, he hiked a leg up and took the seat next to her.

“What's this?” Sean asked, picking up Gavin's business card from the table where Quinn had placed it.

“One of Quinn's many admirers.” Darcy smirked in her direction.

“Art history professor, huh?” Sean pursed his lips. “I'm not sure I'd date a dude who got off on talking about old, crusty paintings.”

Quinn grabbed the card from his fingers. “There's nothing wrong with being cultured. He was a nice guy.”

Sean smirked. “Must be a girl thing. Darcy had a thing for our economics teacher in high school. Mr. Peters.”

“Ack! I did not!”

He laughed. “I saw the way you batted your eyes at him. You clambered to get into the front row in all his classes.”

“I wanted to be able to see the board! And I didn't bat my eyes at him.” Darcy looked at Quinn. “Mr. Peters was probably close to 285 pounds, and the poor man had pockmarks all over his face.” She looked back at Sean. “You're awful. And you're one to talk. You told me countless times how you'd pop a boner every time you saw Mrs. Barrington.”

“Now
that's
a true statement.” Sean pointed at Darcy. “It was like
Basic Instinct
every time she would sit on the edge of her desk and uncross her legs. God, I loved physics class.”

“A lot of guys loved physics,” Darcy mumbled.

“Ewan actually got a private tutoring session, didn't you? You got to experience
applied physics
if you catch my meaning,” Sean said with an exaggerated wink.

Quinn's eyes shot to Ewan and her throat went dry.

“You fucked Mrs. Barrington?” Darcy asked, clearly aghast. “You couldn't have been eighteen yet. She statutory raped you!”

“It was two years ago. Right after her divorce.” Ewan shrugged.

Quinn didn't realize she'd narrowed her eyes and was frowning. She tried not to picture Ewan in bed with a striking Sharon Stone lookalike but was failing miserably. Envy curled in the pit of her stomach.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed it aside. Ewan was definitely free to sleep with whomever he wanted. He'd made it clear that she wasn't his type, and that was fine. But still she wondered what Mrs. Barrington had that she didn't.

“Looks like you girls could use some drinks. What'll it be?” Sean asked.

“I'm good,” Quinn said, holding up her half-empty glass.

“I'm not paying for the shit drinks here,” Darcy replied.

“I know one of the bartenders over there. We've been drinking for free all evening. Come on, I'll introduce you,” Sean said to Darcy, and the two of them headed to the far corner of the lobby.

Ewan sat silently beside Quinn, his hands clasped loosely on the table. She tried not to notice how good he looked in his dark trousers and black shirt. His sleeves were rolled up his forearms, and his top button was open, displaying smooth skin at the center of his collarbone. His dark hair was an alluring mix of styled and messy, and his customary dark stubble dotted his chin.

“How long have you been here?” she asked.

He took a deep breath. “Too long.”

She smiled because she knew what he meant. She'd agreed to come along only to be polite. She'd much rather be back in Ballagh working on the pergola.

Even in the loud room, the silence between her and Ewan made her uncomfortable. “Have you heard Rory's band play before?”

He nodded. “Yeah, they've played at the pub a few times.”

“Oh, that's nice.”

There was more silence. She was acutely aware that his eyes didn't wander the crowded room like hers did. His eyes wandered
her
. At the moment, he seemed to be staring at her foot which was sticking out from under the table.

“So who's watching the pub tonight?”

He looked up at her, and miracle of all miracles, one side of his mouth pulled up into a grin. “Do you always ask so many questions?”

She felt her lips part and her lower jaw fall open. His face was… God, it was brilliant. A dimple appeared on his cheek, and she wondered if he actually did smile if he would have dimples on both cheeks. His grin completely transformed his face from brooding to breathtaking.

She realized she was staring and blushed. “You should definitely smile more.”