The Winter Man (25 page)

“I'll bet they are. Here. I'll get the saucers,” she volunteered, still catching her breath.

Elliot looked like the cat with the canary as she dished up brownies. It very obviously didn't bother him that Amanda and his dad were beginning to notice each other.

“Isn't this cozy?” he remarked as they went back into
the living room and Amanda curled up on the sofa beside his dad, who never sat there.

“Cozy, indeed,” Quinn murmured with a warm smile for Amanda.

She smiled back and laid her cheek against Quinn's broad chest while they watched television and ate brownies. She didn't move even when Harry joined them. And she knew she'd never been closer to heaven.

That night they were left discreetly alone, and she lay in Quinn's strong arms on the long leather couch in his office while wood burned with occasional hisses and sparks in the potbellied stove.

“I've had a raw deal with this place,” he said eventually between kisses. “But it's good land, and I'm building a respectable herd of cattle. I can't offer you wealth or position, and we've got a ready-made family. But I can take care of you,” he said solemnly, looking down into her soft eyes. “And you won't want for any of the essentials.”

Her fingers touched his lean cheek hesitantly. “You don't know anything about me,” she said. “When you know my background, you may not want me as much as you think you do.” She put her fingers against his mouth. “You have to be sure.”

“Damn it, I'm already sure,” he muttered.

But was he? She was the first woman he'd ever been intimate with. Couldn't that blind him to her real suitability? What if it was just infatuation or desire? She was
afraid to take a chance on his feelings, when she didn't really know what they were.

“Let's wait just a little while longer before we make any plans, Quinn. Okay?” she asked softly, turning in his hard arms so that her body was lying against his. “Make love to me,” she whispered, moving her mouth up to his. “Please…”

He gave in with a rough groan, gathering her to him, crushing her against his aroused body. He wanted her beyond rational thought. Maybe she had cold feet, but he didn't. He knew what he wanted, and Amanda was it.

His hands smoothed the blouse and bra away with growing expertise and he fought out of his shirt so that he could feel her soft skin against his. But it wasn't enough. He felt her tremble and knew that it was reflected in his own arms and legs. He moved against her with a new kind of sensuousness, lifting his head to hold her eyes while he levered her onto her back and eased over her, his legs between both of hers in their first real intimacy.

She caught her breath, but she didn't push him to try to get away.

“It's just that new for you, isn't it?” he whispered huskily as his hips moved lazily over hers and he groaned. “God, it burns me to…feel you like this.”

“I know.” She arched her back, loving his weight, loving the fierce maleness of his body. Her arms slid closer around him and she felt his mouth open on hers, his
tongue softly searching as it slid inside, into an intimacy that made her moan. She began to tremble.

His lean hand slid under her, getting a firm grip, and he brought her suddenly into a shocking, shattering position that made her mindless with sudden need. She clutched him desperately, shuddering, her nails digging into him as the contact racked her like a jolt of raw electricity.

He pulled away from her without a word, shuddering as he lay on his back, trying to get hold of himself.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I didn't mean to let it go so far with us.”

She was trembling, too, trying to breathe while great hot tears rolled down her cheeks. “Gosh, I wanted you,” she whispered tearfully. “Wanted you so badly, Quinn!”

“As badly as I wanted you, honey,” he said heavily. “We can't let things get that hot again. It was a close call. Closer than you realize.”

“Oh, Quinn, couldn't we make love?” she asked softly, rolling over to look down into his tormented face. “Just once…?”

He framed his face in his hands and brought her closed eyes to his lips. “No. I won't compromise you.”

She hit his big, hair-roughened chest. “Goody Two-Shoes…!”

“Thank your lucky stars that I am,” he chuckled. His eyes dropped to her bare breasts and lingered there before he caught the edges of her blouse and tugged them
together. “You sex-crazed female, haven't you ever heard about pregnancy?”

“That condition where I get to have little Quinns?”

“Stop it, you're making it impossible for me,” he said huskily. “Here, get up before I lose my mind.” She sat up with a grimace. “Spoilsport.”

“Listen to you,” he muttered, putting her back into her clothes with a wry grin. “I'll give you ten to one that you'd be yelling your head off if I started taking off your jeans.”

She went red. “My jeans…!”

His eyebrows arched. “Amanda, would you like me to explain that book I read to you? The part about how men and women…”

She cleared her throat. “No, thanks, I think I've got the hang of it now,” she murmured evasively.

“We might as well add a word about birth control,” he added with a chuckle when he was buttoning up his own shirt. “You don't take the Pill, I assume?”

She shook her head. The whole thing was getting to be really embarrassing!

“Well, that leaves prevention up to me,” he explained. “And that would mean a trip into town to the drugstore, since I never indulged, I never needed to worry about prevention.
Now
do you get the picture?”

“Boy, do I get the picture.” She grimaced, avoiding his knowing gaze.

“Good girl. That's why we aren't lying down anymore.”

She sighed loudly. “I guess you don't want children.”

“Sure I do. Elliot would love brothers and sisters, and I'm crazy about kids.” He took her slender hands in his and smoothed them over with his thumbs. “But kids should be born inside marriage, not outside it. Don't you think so?”

She took a deep breath, and her dark eyes met his. “Yes.”

“Then we'll spend a lot of time together until you have to meet your friends at this concert,” he said softly. “And afterward, you and I will come in here again and I'll ask you a question.”

“Oh, Quinn,” she whispered with aching softness.

“Oh, Amanda,” he murmured, smiling as his lips softly touched hers. “But right now, we go to bed. Separately. Quick!”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Sutton.” She got up and let him lead her to the staircase.

“I'll get the lights,” he said. “You go on up. In the morning after we get Elliot off to school you can come out with me, if you want to.”

“I want to,” she said simply. She could hardly bear to be parted from him even overnight. It was like an addiction, she thought as she went up the staircase. Now if only she could make it last until she had the nerve to tell Quinn the truth….

The next few days went by in a haze. The snow began
to melt and the skies cleared as the long-awaited chinook blew in. In no time at all it was Friday night and Amanda was getting into what Elliot would recognize as her stage costume. She'd brought it, with her other things, from the Durning cabin. She put it on, staring at herself in the mirror. Her hair hung long and loose, in soft waves below her waist, in the beige leather dress with the buckskin boots that matched, she was the very picture of a sensuous woman. She left off the headband. There would be time for that if she could summon enough courage to get onstage. She still hadn't told Quinn. She hadn't had the heart to destroy the dream she'd been living. But tonight he'd know. And she'd know if they had a future. She took a deep breath and went downstairs.

A
manda sat in the audience with Quinn and Elliot at a far table while the crowded hall rang with excited whispers. Elliot was tense, like Amanda, his eyes darting around nervously. Quinn was frowning. He hadn't been quite himself since Amanda came down the staircase in her leather dress and boots, looking expensive and faintly alien. He hadn't asked any questions, but he seemed as uptight as she felt.

Her eyes slid over him lovingly, taking in his dark suit. He looked out of place in fancy clothes. She missed the sight of him in denim and his old shepherd's coat, and wondered fleetingly if she'd ever get to see him that way again after tonight—if she'd ever lie in his arms on the big
sofa and warm to his kisses while the fire burned in the stove. She almost groaned. Oh, Quinn, she thought, I love you.

Elliot looked uncomfortable in his blue suit. He was watching for the rest of Desperado while a well-known Las Vegas entertainer warmed up the crowd and sang his own famous theme song.

“What are you looking for, son?” Quinn asked.

Elliot shifted. “Nothing. I'm just seeing who I know.” Quinn's eyebrows arched. “How would you know anybody in this crowd?” he muttered, glancing around. “My God, these are show people. Entertainers. Not people from our world.”

That was a fact. But hearing it made Amanda heartsick. She reached out and put her hand over Quinn's.

“Your fingers are like ice,” he said softly. He searched her worried eyes. “Are you okay, honey?”

The endearment made her warm all over. She smiled sadly and slid her fingers into his, looking down at the contrast between his callused, work-hardened hand and her soft, pale one. His was a strong hand, hers was artistic. But despite the differences, they fit together perfectly. She squeezed her fingers. “I'm fine,” she said. “Quinn…”

“And now I want to introduce a familiar face,” the Las Vegas performer's voice boomed. “Most of you know the genius of Desperado. The group has won countless awards for its topical, hard-hitting songs. Last year, Desperado was given a Grammy for ‘Changes in the Wind,' and Hank
Shoeman's song ‘Outlaw Love' won him a country music award and a gold record. But their fame isn't the reason we're honoring them tonight.”

To Amanda's surprise, he produced a gold plaque. “As some of you may remember, a little over a month ago, a teenage girl died at a Desperado concert. The group's lead singer leaped into the crowd, disregarding her own safety, and was very nearly trampled trying to protect the fan. Because of that tragedy, Desperado went into seclusion. We're proud to tell you tonight that they're back and they're in better form than ever. This plaque is a token of respect from the rest of us in the performing arts to a very special young woman whose compassion and selflessness have won the respect of all.”

He looked out toward the audience where Amanda sat frozen. “This is for you—Amanda Corrie Callaway. Will you come up and join the group, please? Come on, Mandy!”

She bit her lower lip. The plaque was a shock. The boys seemed to know about it, too, because they went to their instruments grinning and began to play the downbeat that Desperado was known for, the deep throbbing counter rhythm that was their trademark.

“Come on, babe!” Hank called out in his booming voice, he and Johnson and Deke and Jack looking much more like backwoods robbers than musicians with their huge bulk and outlaw gear.

Amanda glanced at Elliot's rapt, adoring face, and then
looked at Quinn. He was frowning, his dark eyes searching the crowd. She said a silent goodbye as she got to her feet. She reached into her pocket for her headband and put it on her head. She couldn't look at him, but she felt his shocked stare as she walked down the room toward the stage, her steps bouncing as the rhythm got into her feet and her blood.

“Thank you,” she said huskily, kissing the entertainer's cheek as she accepted the plaque. She moved in between Johnson and Deke, taking the microphone. She looked past Elliot's proud, adoring face to Quinn's. He seemed to be in a state of dark shock. “Thank you all. I've had a hard few weeks. But I'm okay now, and I'm looking forward to better times. God bless, people. This one is for a special man and a special boy, with all my love.” She turned to Hank, nodded, and he began the throbbing drumbeat of “Love Singer.”

It was a song that touched the heart, for all its mad beat. The words, in her soft, sultry, clear voice caught every ear in the room. She sang from the heart, with the heart, the words fierce with meaning as she sang them to Quinn. “Love you, never loved anybody but you, never leave me lonely, love…singer.”

But Quinn didn't seem to be listening to the words. He got to his feet and jerked Elliot to his. He walked out in the middle of the song and never looked back once.

Amanda managed to finish, with every ounce of
will-power she had keeping her onstage. She let the last few notes hang in the air and then she bowed to a standing ovation. By the time she and the band did an encore and she got out of the hall, the truck they'd come in was long gone. There was no note, no message. Quinn had said it all with his eloquent back when he walked out of the hall. He knew who she was now, and he wanted no part of her. He couldn't have said it more clearly if he'd written it in blood.