At First Touch (19 page)

“W
ake up, Wyatt,” a gentle voice sang into his ear.

Wyatt smiled in his dream as Quinn's soft hips filled his hands and her breasts pressed against his chest. He had gone to sleep alone and hard last night, but she was in his dream and the rest didn't matter for now.

He squeezed her hips, then molded her fabulous butt that he had not paid nearly enough attention to the one night they had been together.

Quinn moaned with pleasure, then placed a butterfly soft kiss on his neck. “Wyatt, wake up. Please.”

Wyatt's entire body hardened at the break in her voice because he realized that he wasn't dreaming. Quinn was in his bed, in his arms. He opened his eyes and stared straight into her beautiful hazel eyes. She smiled.

“I like how you look in the morning,” she whispered, while caressing the short bristles of his night's growth of beard.

He moved her loose curls behind her ears and tugged on the soft, fleshy lobes. “I like how you look in the morning, the afternoon and the evening.”

She sent him another sweet smile, then kissed him in response. Wyatt instantly gave her access to his mouth. With her on top, she was in control and her tongue swept through his mouth, sweetly dominating him. She ate his mouth, then began to gently nip at his lips. Wyatt opened his legs and her lower body instantly slipped into the space reserved just for her against his hardness. His pajama bottoms weren't even an impediment against feeling every inch of her.

He groaned in her mouth, then dragged one hand up her body to caress her breast through the thin fabric of the dress she wore. He arched his hips when he felt her nipple bead through the material like a soft pebble against his hand. He went into overdrive and flipped her over so that she was underneath him.

Quinn laughed against his mouth, then put both hands on his chest, stopping him from moving to her mouth again. “Wyatt, stop,” she said, laughing.

For the first time, Wyatt noticed that she held papers in one hand. Papers that were now seriously wrinkled.

“What is that?” he asked, nodding to the papers.

She squirmed out from under his arms to get off the bed. She studied her reflection in the dresser mirror and began to rake her fingers through her hair as she said, “It's the contract that I need you to sign for us to use the house in the movie. Helmut wants to take a few establishing shots tomorrow.”

Wyatt stared at the papers she had left on the bed, as something ugly and nasty twisted in his gut. She hadn't come to see him. It was about the movie. Of course. He shook his head, disappointed with himself and annoyed with her.

She turned to face him, obviously excited. “We're doing some test shoots tonight on Main Street. Apparently, word has gotten around town and half of the town plans to show up to watch. I think the town is actually excited about the movie being shot here.”

“They are?” he asked tonelessly.

Quinn wiped at her mouth, then turned to him with a bright smile. “I knew they would be. Deep down inside, everyone is a camera hog.” She sat back on the bed next to him and grabbed the papers. Of course, she already had a pen, too. “I just need you to sign this and then I have to head to Main Street. You would not believe how long it takes us to block one scene. It's going to be a long night, but I'm excited. This is moviemaking at its finest, right?”

Wyatt stared at her for a moment. She was so beautiful, she literally made his heart ache. And of course he had been stupid to think that she could be his. Dorrie was probably laughing with glee.

Wyatt took the pen from her and laid the paper on the bed to sign it. Quinn laughed and stilled his hands with hers. “You're not even going to read it? Get a lawyer to read it?”

Wyatt stared at her, then signed the paper. Without another word, he stood from the bed and walked toward the kitchen. He needed a cup of coffee to deal with this day. He had a feeling that it was going to be a long one. He heard the slap of Quinn's stiletto heels on the hardwood floor as she followed him.

“Thank you,” she said.

He didn't respond and pulled a bag of coffee grounds from the refrigerator. He measured a few spoonfuls into the coffee machine. Quinn continued to linger in the kitchen door frame.

She cleared her throat then said, “Wyatt, filming this movie has been such a learning experience. Helmut has been hard on me, but I think it's because Helmut thinks I'm the best actress and he wants to push me. It's not exactly what I imagined, but…it'll change. As soon as the cameras start rolling, this is going to be so much fun.”

Wyatt ignored the stabbing in his stomach and stared at the coffee dripping into the pot. His throat felt thick with emotion. He was hot. He was cold. He didn't know. But he wanted her to leave him alone. It was almost more painful that she was trying to let him down easy.

Quinn walked across the kitchen to stand next to him. She sounded suspiciously close to tears as she said, “Could you look at me?”

Wyatt forced himself to look at her and he nearly lost his breath. He instantly looked away again.

“What's wrong, Wyatt?” she whispered, touching his arm.

He jerked his arm from her touch and the hurt that flooded into her face made him almost relent and let her play out her scene. “Where were you last night?” he asked coldly.

“I told you how busy the schedule has been,” she said softly.

“And where were you the night before?” he demanded.

“We didn't stop until four o'clock in the morning and Helmut wanted us back there at seven. I didn't want to wake you.”

“You didn't want to wake me? That was thoughtful of you,” he said with a dry laugh.

He waited for her to get angry with him, to scream and yell like the old Quinn would have done. Call him a jerk and storm out. But she didn't get angry. Instead, tears filled her eyes. And she looked more guilty than she did when he accused her of sabotaging his relationship with Dorrie. What a first-rate fool he had been. Everyone had been right.

He cursed and said in a low voice, “I hope it's all worth it. I hope you get that Oscar that you've already worked so hard for.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just stop it, Quinn,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm, even though his blood raged. “I know what this was all about. I guess I knew it all along, but I didn't want to believe it because I was so in love with you. What a stupid jerk I've been.”

“You think I slept with you to get the filming rights?”

“Your innocent act is really old.”

She still looked confused as she said, “Wyatt—”

Whatever she was about to stay was cut off by the sound of someone walking into the apartment and calling her name. Wyatt's heart froze in his chest as Vaughn walked into the kitchen. He didn't miss Vaughn's quick glance around the small kitchen. Wyatt imagined that his kitchen was probably the size of Vaughn's closet.

Vaughn glanced at Wyatt's bare chest and pajama bottoms and cleared his throat. “I didn't mean to interrupt,” he said, attempting to sound sympathetic. “But, Quinn, we need to get going. You know that Helmut will flip if we're more than two minutes late.”

Quinn glanced at Vaughn, then turned back to Wyatt. Wyatt's anger was roaring to break out of his chest. He wanted to launch himself at Vaughn and knock the arrogant expression off the man's face.

“Just go, Quinn,” Wyatt snapped, since she was still staring at him with that wounded expression.

“Hey,” Vaughn warned defensively. “You can't talk to her like that.”

Wyatt smiled because he had been waiting for Vaughn to give him a reason to knock him out. “What did you say?” he growled.

“Wyatt, please,” Quinn said, grabbing his arm.

“I can handle him, Quinn,” Vaughn said, obviously offended. “I'm not scared of this Neanderthal.”

“Yes, Quinn, he can handle me,” Wyatt said, with a nasty smile in Vaughn's direction. “So let him handle me.”

“Wyatt, this isn't like you,” Quinn said, shaking her head in disappointment. “Why are you acting this way?”

“What way?” he snapped, turning to her. “Like a man who's been treated like a mark.”

“You can't believe that,” she whispered in disbelief.

“Quinn, you don't need this,” Vaughn said, walking to stand by her side. “Let's go.”

“Yeah, go with him,” Wyatt muttered. “You know you want to anyway.”

“You don't know what I want,” Quinn retorted, suddenly becoming angry. “You've never known.”

“I know that you want this movie and, as soon as you got it, you couldn't drop me fast enough. I know that you made me look like a fool in front of this entire town. And I know that I will never forgive you for it.”

Tears filled her eyes as she stared at him with a gaping mouth. Beatrice burst into the kitchen, looking panicked and worried. Wyatt stepped around Quinn and Vaughn to grab his mother. She was trembling.

“Mom, what's wrong?” he asked, concerned.

Beatrice calmed slightly when she saw Quinn and Vaughn. She looked back at Wyatt and said, urgently, “Mrs. Woods died last night.”

Wyatt felt all the blood drain from his face and the air grow cold. He rubbed his suddenly tight throat. “How?” he croaked.

“Cancer. She had been sick for a while,” Beatrice whispered, clutching his arms. “The family wants the burial to take place tomorrow before Christmas.”

“Tomorrow?” he repeated, feeling the cold sweat break out on his forehead.

“Wyatt, are you okay?” Quinn whispered, closing the distance between them to stand at his side.

“He's fine,” Beatrice snapped in response. “What are you doing here? Didn't you already get what you wanted from us?

“Mother, stop,” Wyatt warned.

Beatrice ignored him and glared at Vaughn. She demanded, “And who are you?”

“I'm Vaughn Cotton,” Vaughn said, while puffing his chest in indignation that she didn't know who he was.

Wyatt looked down at Quinn, who was watching him. He couldn't read her expression. She appeared concerned for him but then again, he had thought she was in love with him. Or maybe he had just hoped that she had been falling in love with him because he had finally accepted that he was in love with her.

“Just leave, Quinn,” Wyatt said, hoarsely, barely able to support his own weight. If he fainted in front of Quinn, he would never be able to look her in the eye again. He cursed his weakness. And he cursed Vaughn for witnessing it all, even though he looked more confused than triumphant.

Quinn stared at Wyatt for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she shook her head and muttered, “Fine.”

She walked out the house, with Vaughn following on her heels. As his legs gave out, Wyatt fell onto the nearest chair. Beatrice began to rub his shoulders.

“It'll be fine, Wyatt,” she said gently.

Wyatt tuned out his mother and tried to breathe. No, it wouldn't be fine. With Quinn out of his life, he had a feeling that nothing would be fine again.

 

“I just love Christmas. Don't you?” Kendra muttered dryly, through clattering teeth.

Quinn ignored Kendra and continued to read the lines she had to recite “with feeling” in ten minutes. She and her two sisters stood in the town square, in front of the giant professionally decorated Christmas tree that Helmut had brought in to replace the town's smallish and lopsided tree that the town had decorated with children's ornaments made in school.

Half of the town had showed up to watch the rehearsals. Some people had even brought lawn chairs and hot chocolate and popcorn. Their excited chatter annoyed Helmut, but it did lend a festive environment and made Quinn almost forget about the things that Wyatt had said to her that morning. No man, actually, no person, had ever hurt her that deeply. Even now, her eyes filled with tears as she recalled the disgust that had shone in his eyes when he looked at her.

She should have been angry at him. And she was. She was furious that he didn't have faith in her and that he believed town gossip. Maybe Quinn had briefly thought that sleeping with him would be good for her and good for the movie, but, movie or not, she would have slept with Wyatt Granger. But even after all that, another part of her just wanted to see his familiar face and have him send her that smile that was meant just for her.

“How long is Helmut going to have you out here?” Charlie asked worriedly, while burrowing deeper into Graham's chest and arms. Graham had pulled his oversized winter coat open and around Charlie. “It's freezing.”

“He said about fifteen more minutes,” Quinn responded.

“He said that two hours ago,” Kendra shot back as she adjusted the knit cap on her head.

“I'm actually with Kendra on this one,” Graham chimed in. “It's freezing cold and you're dead on your feet. You haven't gotten a decent night's sleep since Helmut got here. It's time to call it a night, Quinn.”