The Good Girl's Second Chance (The Bravos Of Justice Creek 2) (4 page)

Chloe got the message. Manny did want her to use the Bravos. “Sounds good to me.” She made a mental note to go with them if at all possible.

Half an hour later, when Manny and Annabelle left, Chloe had an appointment at Quinn’s house for two in the afternoon the next day.

She was thrilled.

But then again, come on. It was too much of a coincidence. She suspected rough-edged old Manny of matchmaking, because it just didn’t seem like something Quinn would engineer. Quinn Bravo was more direct than that. If he wanted to see her again, he would just say so.

Wouldn’t he?

She had to admit she couldn’t be sure. Maybe Quinn hesitated to ask her out now, after she’d made such a point of that one night being the
only
night the two of them would ever share.

Maybe he knew nothing about Manny’s plans to tear their house apart and redo it, top to bottom.

Maybe, come to think of it, Quinn had no desire at all to ask her out. What if he ended up hating the idea that his daughter’s caregiver planned to hire the woman up the hill, with whom he’d had a one-night stand? What if he wanted nothing to do with her now? If she took the job, she would be in and out of his house for weeks.

That would be awful, if it turned out that Quinn really didn’t want her around. Here she was, gloating over this plum job that had magically fallen in her lap, when Quinn might know nothing about it—and not be the least bit happy when he found out.

By the time Tai arrived at one, Chloe had made up her mind.

Before she went to Quinn’s house tomorrow and consulted with Manny on the changes he wanted made, she needed to know for sure what Quinn really thought of her being there.

And the only way to know for sure was to ask the man himself.

Chapter Three

C
hloe sent Tai to get takeout again. They shared lunch. And then she left Tai in charge and walked the two blocks to Prime Sports and Fitness, her heart hammering at her ribs all the way.

Quinn’s gym filled a three-story brick building directly across the street from the popular Irish-style pub, McKellan’s. Chloe hesitated outside on the sidewalk, ordering her pulse to slow down a little, noting the good location and the clean, modern lines of the building itself. There were lots of windows and various athletic activities visible from the street. In one room, some kind of martial arts class was in progress. Another room took up most of the second floor and held rows of cardio equipment, with people in exercise gear working out on stationary bikes, treadmills and elliptical trainers.

She stood there staring up for a couple of minutes at least. Until she finally had to accept that her nervousness hadn’t faded at all. In fact, it was worse. So she smoothed the front of her narrow white pants, tugged on the hem of the light, short blazer she wore over a featherweight black tank, squared her shoulders and went in.

The gorgeous, hardbody brunette at the front desk said that Quinn was just finishing up leading a boxing conditioning class. Chloe could wait in his office. It shouldn’t be long.

So Chloe sat in his office, where the walls were lined with pictures of Quinn in his fighting days and more than one big, shiny trophy stood on display. She had become absolutely certain that she’d made a horrible mistake in coming here and was just about to rise and bolt from the building, when the door swung open and there he was, looking sweaty and spectacular in gray boxing shorts and a muscle-hugging T.

* * *

“Hello, Chloe.” Quinn thought he’d never seen anyone so smooth and beautiful, in those perfect white pants and pointy little shoes, not a single golden hair out of place.

“Quinn.” She sounded breathless. He liked that. And she bounced to her feet. “I... How are you?” She held out her hand.

“Good. Real good.” He stepped forward and took it, already regretting he hadn’t run to the locker room and grabbed a quick shower after class. Her slim fingers were cool and dry in his sweaty paw.

But she didn’t seem to mind. She held on and he held on and they stood and stared at each other. She looked a little stunned, but in a good way. And he had no doubt his expression mirrored hers.

Finally, she said in a breathless rush, “I need... Well, there’s something I really have to discuss with you.”

“Sure.” He made himself release her hand and went back to shut the door as she returned to the chair. “Something to drink? Juice? Tea?” When she shook her head, he slid in behind his desk and gestured for her to sit back down. “Okay. What’s going on?”

“I, uh, had a visit from Manny and Annabelle today, at my design showroom. Manny offered me a really good project, redoing all the rooms in your house.” She paused to swallow and smooth her already perfect hair. “I agreed to meet him at your house tomorrow in the afternoon to go over the changes he wants. If he still wants to hire me, I’ll work out the numbers and put together a contract.”

This was all news to Quinn. But not bad news. He asked cautiously, “And this is a problem somehow?”

“Well, after Manny and Annabelle left, I started wondering if you even knew that he was planning to hire me. I thought I should, you know, check with you, make certain you’re on board with Manny’s plan...” Her voice trailed off.

He watched her try not to fidget. And the longer he sat there looking at her, the more he came to grips with the fact that the one night he’d had with her wasn’t enough. Luckily for him, her signal came through loud and clear: she felt the same way.

No, he had no time for romance.

But for a woman like Chloe, he might just have to make time.

Should he be pissed off at Manny for taking the situation into his battered old hands? Probably. Manny had no business butting in.

But Quinn had just spent a week keeping himself from climbing the hill to get to her. Manny’s bold move had brought her right to him. Pissed off? Hardly. Downright grateful was more like it.

Not that he’d ever admit that to Manny.

A small, embarrassed sound escaped her. “Oh, God. You
didn’t
know, did you?”

“Doesn’t matter. Manny’s in charge of the house and we agreed when we bought the place that it would need major upgrades. It’s his call who he hires to make that happen.”

“So you’re okay with it—with me, working in your house?”

He was more than just okay with it. “Sounds like a good idea to me—I mean, if you’re willing.”

She gave him one of those glowing smiles that could light up the blackest night. “Well, then. Yes. I’m willing, definitely.” She got up. “So, then, I guess I should be...”

He couldn’t let her go. Not yet. He pushed back his chair. “Now that you’re here, how ’bout I show you around?”

“The gym, you mean?”

“That’s right.”

“Yes. Yes, I would like that.”

“Well, okay, then. This way...”

* * *

Chloe followed Quinn past the reception area, into a series of wood-floored classrooms with mirrored walls and different kinds of equipment stacked in the corners. In one, a fitness ball class was in progress. In another, the participants were paired up for intense stretching. They went upstairs to the second floor and the giant cardio room as well as a room with all kinds of weight machines and one with boxing equipment and two rings.

He explained that Prime Fitness tried to offer something for everyone. “We have martial arts for all ages, boxing, kickboxing, general fitness and yoga classes...”

She listened and nodded, just glad to be walking along beside him, glad that he seemed to want to keep her there longer, to be drawing the moments out before she left.

On the top floor there was a beginning women’s self-defense class in progress. They watched through the observation window as a big guy in a padded suit tried to take down a woman about Chloe’s size. The woman shouted and fought him off violently, kicking and slugging at him, spinning away and sprinting off as soon as she got the guy to let go of her.

Watching that made Chloe’s mouth go dry and her palms feel clammy. It made her think of Ted and how she ought to be better prepared if anyone ever hit her or threatened her again.

“What do you think?” Quinn asked.

She turned to him, met those wonderful, watchful eyes. “I think I might want to take a class like this.”

There was a bench a few feet away. He backed up and sat down. She left the viewing window and sat beside him.

He said, “This class is wrapping up. A new one will start next week, and there’s an evening class, too. Starts in two weeks. It’s an eight-week course, one two-hour class per week.”

“I’ll be fighting off guys in padded suits for eight weeks?”

He shook his head. “No. Initially there are sessions on staying out of violent confrontations in the first place.”

“How?”

He chuckled. “What? You want an outline of the course?”

“Can you give me one?”

“You’re serious?”

“I am, yes.”

He watched her for a long moment. And then he shrugged. “Well, all right. The class starts with a section on the nature of predators. Basically there are two types. Resource and process. Resource predators want your stuff. Process predators are in it for the power and the thrill. They want to mess you over. They actually enjoy committing crimes. The class shows you how to identify what kind of scumbag you’re faced with and how to deal with him. Next comes a study of avoidance, because the best option is always steering clear of any situation where you could get hurt. After avoidance, there’s a section on deescalating conflict. If you can’t escape trouble before it happens, the second-best option is to diffuse it. And finally you’ll learn how to fight off an attack.”

“Wow,” she said, and wondered if any guy ever looked as good in shorts and a T-shirt as Quinn did. And he smelled so good, too. Clean. Just sweaty enough to be exciting...

He grunted. “See? More information than you needed or wanted.”

She shook her head. “That was exactly what I wanted to know. And how do
you
know all that? Do you teach this kind of class yourself?”

“No. But I’ve been through every class that we offer here. I run the place. It’s my job to know what I’m selling. I want to franchise this operation. This location will be the model for Prime Sports and Fitness gyms all over the country.”

“You dream big.”

“Hey. Balls to the wall. It’s the only way to go.”

She made a decision. “I’m taking the next evening class.”

“Am I a salesman, or what?” He got up. “Come on.” He put his big hand at the small of her back. Such a light touch to wreak such total havoc through every quivering cell in her body. “We’ll sign you up.”

At the front desk, Quinn tried to comp her the class. She shook her head and whipped out her checkbook. Once she’d paid for the course, he walked her out the door.

He caught her arm as the door eased shut behind them. “So, Chloe...”

She was achingly aware of him, so close, his big, warm fingers wrapped lightly around her upper arm. He walked her forward several feet along the sidewalk and then pulled her gently around to face him.

“Yeah?” she asked low, her voice barely a whisper.

He stepped in closer and spoke for her ears alone. “The other night...?”

Her breath tangled in her throat. “Yeah?”

“You said just for that night, just that once. But you’re here and I’m looking in those fine blue eyes and I’m wondering, did you really mean that?”

Her stupid throat had clutched up tight. She swallowed convulsively, and then shook her head hard.

His brow rumpled in a frown, but the hint of a smile seemed to tug on his mouth. “I’m still not sure what you’re telling me here.”

And somehow she found her voice again. “Sorry...”

“Nothing to be sorry for. You just say it right out loud, whatever your answer is. I can take it, I promise you.”

She cleared her throat to get her going. “Ahem. That night, I needed to find a way to give myself permission to do something I wanted to do but had never done before. That night, I needed to think of it as just that one time and never again. But since then...”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, Quinn. I wish I hadn’t said what I said. Because I’ve been thinking about you a lot. And it’s really good to see you again.”

Those fine eyes were gleaming. “Yeah?”

And she was eagerly nodding, her head bouncing up and down like a bobblehead doll’s.

“So, then...” He started walking backward toward the doors.

She resisted the urge to reach out and stop him—and also the one that demanded she follow him. Instead, she held her ground and asked hopefully, “So, then, what?”

He stopped at the doors. “How ’bout Friday night? You and me. Dinner.”

“Dinner...” How could one simple word hold so much promise?

“Yeah.” He was definitely smiling now. “You know, like people do.”

“I would like that.” She knew she wore a giant, silly grin. And somehow she had gone on tiptoe. Her body felt lighter than air.

“Pick you up at seven?”

She settled back onto her heels and nodded. “Seven is great.”

A trim, fortyish woman in workout clothes approached the doors. Quinn opened one and ushered her in. Then, with a final nod in Chloe’s direction, he went in, too.

That lighter-than-air feeling? It stayed with her. Her feet barely touched the ground the whole way back to the showroom.

Strange how everything could change for the better in the course of one afternoon.

All at once, the world, so cruel to her in recent years, was a good and hopeful place again. Suddenly everything looked brighter.

Yeah, okay. It was just a date. But it was a date with a man who thrilled her—and made her feel safe and protected and cherished and capable, all at the same time.

* * *

That night, Chloe made chocolate chip cookies. Once they’d cooled, she packed them up into two bright decorator tins. She took them to the showroom the next morning. One she offered at the coffee table.

The other she carried with her when she went to meet with Manny at Quinn’s house after lunch.

“Cookies!” Annabelle nodded her approval. “I
like
cookies.” She sent Manny a regretful glance. “Manny’s cookies are not very good.”

Manny told Chloe, “Never was a baker—or that much of a cook, when you come right down to it. I enjoy cooking, though. Too bad nobody appreciates my efforts.” He wiggled his bushy eyebrows at Annabelle. “And what do you say when someone brings you really good cookies?”

“Thank you, Chloe.”

“You’re welcome.”

She turned those sweet brown eyes on Manny again. “Can I have one now?”

“That could be arranged.” Manny led them to the kitchen, which had appliances that had been state-of-the-art back in the late eighties, a fruit-patterned wallpaper border up near the ceiling and acres of white ceramic tile. Annabelle made short work of two cookies and a glass of milk, after which she wanted to take Chloe up to her room.

Chloe looked to Manny. The old guy shrugged. “Don’t keep her up there all day,” he said to the little girl.

“Manny, I want
all
the princesses, but it won’t take
that
long.” She reached right up and grabbed Chloe’s hand, at which point Chloe’s heart pretty much melted. “Okay, Chloe. Let’s go.”

After half an hour with Quinn’s daughter, Chloe knew exactly which princesses Annabelle wanted represented in her new room, as well as her favorite colors. They went back downstairs, and Chloe spent a couple of hours with Manny, going through the house, bottom to top, talking hard and soft surfaces, color choices, style preferences and the benefits of knocking out a wall or two. Chloe jotted notes and took pictures of existing furniture and fixtures that would be included in the new design.

Before she left at four-thirty, she promised to crunch the numbers. The contract would be ready for his and Quinn’s approval early next week.

“Give me a call,” said Manny. “We can decide then whether to meet here or at your showroom.”