The Mighty Quinns: Ryan

Surrender is the greatest sin

For adventure guide Ryan Quinn, a week in Fiji babysitting a hen party should be a cakewalk. Only, the bride turns out to be sexy movie star Serena Hightower, and the wedding turns out to be very much in question. Ryan wants to help Serena, but he’s not sure he can trust himself with her—not when she is his every temptation personified…

Serena Hightower just needs one week in paradise to figure out what she wants. Unfortunately, what she wants is the one thing she can’t have—the rugged and charming Ryan Quinn. Serena craves Ryan’s touch, the haven of his arms. But to be with him, she’ll have to risk her career and her future, not to mention his. If she throws it all away for the chance at happiness, will he do the same?

Praise for Kate Hoffmann's Mighty Quinns

“The author continues to do a wonderful job with her
beloved Quinn family saga. A perfectly paced
page-turner, this setup novel for the New Zealand
Quinns is firmly in place and off to a great start.”
—
RT Book Reviews
on
The Mighty Quinns: Malcolm

“
The Mighty Quinns: Malcolm
is a winning combination
of exciting adventure and romance. The captivating
prologue pulled me into this engaging story with
characters that are likable, interesting and genuine.
This is a sweet and sexy read that kept me
entertained from start to finish.”
—
Harlequin Junkie

“Keep your fan handy! It was impossible for me
to put this steamy, sexy book down until the
last page was turned.”
—
Fresh Fiction
on
The Mighty Quinns: Jack

“Sexy, heartwarming and romantic, this is a story to
settle down with and enjoy—and then reread.”
—
RT Book Reviews
on
The Mighty Quinns: Teague

“This is a fast read that is hard to tear the eyes from.
Once I picked it up I couldn't put it down.”
—
Fresh Fiction
on
The Mighty Quinns: Dermot

Dear Reader,

It’s hard to believe another Quinn trilogy has come to an end. Every time I finish a miniseries, I always wonder where the Quinns will lead me next. This time it was New Zealand, and it was a wonderful place to research and write about. Next time? Who knows?

I expect, if I looked hard enough, I could find Quinns in every corner of the world. Don’t worry, I’ll keep looking for as long as you like to read about the family. And until we meet again…

Happy reading,

Kate Hoffmann

The Mighty Quinns: Ryan

Kate Hoffmann

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kate Hoffmann has written over seventy stories for
Harlequin. Her first book was published in 1993, and last year she celebrated
twenty years as a romance writer. In addition to writing, Kate’s interests
include theater, music, gardening, costume design and vegetarian cooking. Kate
lives in southeastern Wisconsin with her cat, Chloe, and many small dust
bunnies.

Books by Kate Hoffmann

HARLEQUIN BLAZE

279—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: MARCUS
285—THE MIGHTY
QUINNS: IAN
291—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: DECLAN
340—DOING
IRELAND!
356—FOR LUST OR MONEY
379—YOUR BED OR
MINE?
406—INCOGNITO
438—WHO NEEDS MISTLETOE?
476—THE MIGHTY
QUINNS: BRODY
482—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: TEAGUE
488—THE MIGHTY QUINNS:
CALLUM
520—THE CHARMER
532—THE DRIFTER
546—THE SEXY
DEVIL
579—IT MUST HAVE BEEN THE MISTLETOE…
“When She Was Naughty…”
585—INTO THE NIGHT
641—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: RILEY
647—THE MIGHTY
QUINNS: DANNY
653—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: KELLAN
675—BLAZING BEDTIME
STORIES, VOLUME VI
“Off the Beaten Path”
681—NOT JUST
FRIENDS
702—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: DERMOT
707—THE MIGHTY QUINNS:
KIERAN
712—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: CAMERON
719—THE MIGHTY QUINNS:
RONAN
735—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: LOGAN
746—THE MIGHTY QUINNS:
JACK
768—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: ROURKE
777—THE MIGHTY QUINNS:
DEX
794—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: MALCOLM
810—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: ROGAN
HARLEQUIN SINGLE TITLES

REUNITED
THE PROMISE
THE LEGACY

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Epilogue

Excerpt

Prologue

T
HE
WIND
HOWLED
outside the house on Gordon Road, shaking the windows. The dream had Ryan Quinn in its grip, and though he wanted to wake up, he felt as if the darkness had swallowed him whole.

In the dream, a knock sounded at the bedroom door, so loud that it shook the floor. He slowly crossed the room, the floor icy cold against his bare feet. He stopped short as the knob began to turn, the terror welling up inside of him. The door swung open and a huge figure filled the space.

Ryan's breath came in shallow gasps as the fear overwhelmed him. He looked up from the man's boots to his cold weather gear. The hood of the man's jacket was pulled low over his face and Ryan watched as he brushed the hood back.

A scream tore from Ryan's throat and he bolted up in his bed, his heart slamming against his chest. His twin brother, Rogan, pushed up from his pillow on the bed next to him, rubbing his eyes. “Jaysus, Ryan, wake up. You're having a nightmare.”

Ryan swallowed hard, pulling the blankets up to his chin. “I'm okay. I'm okay.”

Rogan shook his head. “What was it this time?”

Since their father's death a year ago, Ryan had had trouble sleeping. He'd been plagued with vague, unsettling dreams, dreams that reflected the grief and fear that existed in the Quinn house. But this was a new one, more vivid and frightening.

Ryan shivered, his body trembling uncontrollably. “It—it was Dad.”

Rogan crawled out of his bed and sat down on the edge of Ryan's mattress. “Really. You saw him in your dream?”

Ryan nodded, swallowing back the fear. Tears filled his eyes and he brushed one off his cheek. “He was frozen. His face was made of ice and his eyes were black holes. And there was snow in his hair and beard.”

“Did he say anything?”

“No. But he smiled at me.”

“It was just a dream,” Rogan said.

Ryan turned to him. “Some nights, before I go to sleep, I imagine that he's still alive. I imagine that he walked off the mountain and is living somewhere in Nepal or Tibet. That he's safe.”

“He isn't,” Rogan said. “Mum says that he's dead and we need to accept that. But...sometimes I wish he was alive, too.”

“Do you think they'll ever find him?”

“Mal says that even if they do, they could never bring him home. It would be impossible.”

“I wish I could see him just once more. Just so I could remember him.”

“What would you say to him?” Rogan asked.

Ryan had to consider his answer. He knew he shouldn't be angry with his father, but there was a tiny part of him that was. Max Quinn had promised to always come back, but he'd broken his promise, turning Ryan's world upside down.

Their lives had changed overnight. Money was suddenly in very short supply, and the worry over the family finances was deeply etched in their mother's face. They'd had to leave their little house in Rotorua, leave their friends and school and come to live in Raglan with their mother's parents.

Lydie Quinn had been sad for nearly a year, staying in her room and not coming out, even for Ryan and his three siblings. Ryan had been afraid for such a long time, and he wasn't sure how to help his mother. But he'd found odd jobs and made a few dollars here and there, each week handing over the money to his grandmother for groceries.

And though his siblings still worshipped the man who had been their father, Ryan was the only one who also saw that he'd had flaws. He'd left his family with nothing. He'd thought he was invincible—and he'd been wrong.

Rogan pulled the blanket up and crawled into the bed. Ryan moved over to make room. “Mum wants to drive to Rotorua tomorrow so we can go to the cemetery. It's been a year. They put up a monument and she wants us to see it.”

“Is it going to be sad? I don't want to watch her cry anymore.”

“I expect it will be,” Rogan said. “But best to keep our chins up and carry on.”

Ryan flopped back on the pillow, his gaze fixed on the shadows that danced on the ceiling. “I want him to come home.”

“I know,” Rogan said, lying down beside him. “Someday, maybe we can go look for him. We could bring him home and put him in the cemetery.”

Ryan shook his head, the thought of seeing his father frozen in time more frightening than the nightmare. “I don't want to remember him that way. I want to remember him like he was when he was alive.” Before he'd broken his promise and died.

“Maybe you're right,” Rogan said.

“But I do want to climb mountains someday,” he said. “Just like Dad. I want to see all the things that he saw.”

“We will,” Rogan said.

Ryan closed his eyes and tried to picture his father alive and happy. But no matter how hard he tried, the image of the man in the dream kept nagging at his brain. How could this have happened to Max Quinn? He'd always told his children that he would keep himself safe, that they had nothing to fear.

Had he forgotten his promise? Or maybe promises didn't mean anything to grown-ups. Well, it would mean something to him. Ryan made a silent vow—he would never break a promise, ever.

“Go to sleep,” Rogan said. “You'll feel better in the morning.” Rogan put his arm around his brother, and Ryan clutched him tightly.

“Promise me that you'll never die,” Ryan whispered.

“I won't. I promise. Now you promise, too.”

“I won't die. Not until I'm an old man. I promise.”

1

R
YAN
Q
UINN
STARED
out the rain-blurred windscreen of Rogan’s Land Rover, his gaze fixed on the dark tarmac. In the distance, the landing beacons from Auckland’s airport illuminated the night sky.

“How long are you going to wait?”

“All night if I have to,” Ryan murmured, glancing over at his twin brother, slumped in the driver’s seat. “They’re coming in from Los Angeles on a private jet. I don’t reckon they’ll be keeping to a strict schedule.”

“Serena Hightower,” Rogan said, shaking his head. “How did you get so lucky?”

Ryan shrugged. “I’m not sure I’d call it lucky. It’s just another job.”

“Yeah, but the scenery is going to be splendid,” Rogan said, reaching for the coffee he’d set in the cup holder. “What are you going to do with them? I asked Dana what your plans were, but she said they’re top secret.”

“We’re going to Fiji.”

“Really? We’ve never guided in Fiji before. That’s more of a vacation spot.”

“We’ll do some light trekking, maybe some climbing. Surfing. Sailing.”

“What about supplies and equipment and—”

“It’s not that kind of trip. I’m just on board as...an advisor. Someone who can take care of all the details for whatever they want to do.”

“Kind of like a...babysitter?”

Ryan glanced over at his brother, ready with a retort. But there was no way around it. That was pretty much the job description. But how the hell was he supposed to refuse the offer? He was getting his regular rate plus expenses
and
a promised bonus at the end, all of which he intended to keep for himself. And if he did the job well, there might be other opportunities—which meant a chance to carve out a life of his own, away from the family business. “I prefer to call it a facilitator.”

He’d been considering a break from the family adventure-guiding business for a long time, and lately, it seemed as if that time was now. Both Mal and Rogan were settling down with women they’d met, planning their futures, searching for ways to cut back on the trips they took for Max Adrenaline. They’d both assumed that Ryan would happily take over the brunt of the work.

But he’d made no promises to them and had plans of his own—he wanted to start a surf school. He lived right on the beach; he’d been surfer since the age of nine. And he’d always been a decent teacher. The only thing he didn’t have was the money to make it happen.

His fee, plus a big tip on this job would provide a good start.

“How did you get this job?” Rogan asked.

“I guided a bloke named Thom Perry last year. He was on our Mount Blanc trip. Perry owns Greenmoor Studios in Los Angeles. Serena Hightower is starring in some big blockbuster they have coming out after Christmas. She’s marrying her boyfriend right before the premiere, and he doesn’t want any bad press.”

“Bad press?”

“This is her hen party. She and her bridesmaids want one last fling before she gets married, and Perry wants to make sure they don’t create any problems for the studio.”

“So it’s your job to get her safely to the altar so this bloke’s movie can make more millions?”

“That’s about it,” Ryan said. “How hard can it be? Five women on a tropical island.”

“So, will you be hiring the male stripper or are you providing those services yourself?”

“It’s not like that,” he said. “Ms. Hightower wants an adventure. According to her instructions, she doesn’t want to spend every minute working on her tan. I expect we won’t be sipping mimosas by the pool the entire time.”

“So you’ll be doing a lot of shopping?”

“Definitely not on the itinerary. Perry has a man in Fiji who will help me with the arrangements. Arthur Cawaru. He’ll meet up with me there.”

“We’re splitting the fee with him?”

Ryan shook his head. “Nope. Like I said, the studio is paying all the bills. And this isn’t a Max Adrenaline job. I’m freelancing on this.”

“Wow,” Rogan muttered. “Mal isn’t going to like that.”

“This isn’t a guiding job. I’m not using company equipment or money. And I don’t care what the hell Mal does and doesn’t like these days,” Ryan muttered. “He’s been so caught up in planning the Everest trip that he’s not interested in anything else.”

Max Quinn, their father, had died nearly twenty years before while guiding a group of climbers to the summit of Everest. Before his death, he’d parlayed his considerable fame as a mountaineer into an adventure business with his Aussie friend and business partner, Roger Innis—who had taken total control of the company, and its profits, after Max’s accident.

And now, with the recent discovery of their father’s body on Everest, there had been a push for his three adventuring sons to make a pilgrimage of sorts to Max Quinn’s final resting place, to retrieve his effects and bury him properly. Mal, Ryan’s older brother, was all for the trip, along with publishing a biography that he and his fiancée, Amy Engalls, were writing about his father.

But not everyone was so enthusiastic about their expedition to Everest. Roger Innis was mounting an expedition of his own to recover their father’s effects, including his climbing journal, which Innis considered company, not personal, property. Mal suspected that Innis was afraid he might be blamed for the mistakes made that day. And Ryan and Rogan knew there were other secrets that might be exposed if their father’s journal got into the wrong hands. The secrets in that book could shatter their perfect memory of their father —and destroy the family he’d left behind.

Ryan drew a deep breath. “We need to tell Mal about Dad and the Montgomery woman. He can still call an end to this.”

“There’s no stopping him,” Rogan said. “The trip is a go.” He paused. “And I’m going with him. I’m not going to let Roger Innis use his expedition to make himself look like the hero.”

“But you said it was morbid.”

“Yeah,” Rogan said. “But I’ve had a change of heart. Claudia has pointed out that I can’t really get on with my future until I deal with my past. Maybe this trip is what it will take for me to understand who he was. And who I am.”

“You know who he was,” Ryan countered. “He was our father. A philanderer.”

“That’s not all he was. Listen, someday I’m going to be a father. And I won’t have Dad around to talk to about it. So I’d like to know him a little better. And I want the truth of why he died on that mountain.”

“And what if the journal’s not there? What if he just died there on the mountain, without anything important to say to his family? Or what if he mentions that Montgomery woman? How do you think that will make Mum feel?”

Rogan drew a deep breath. “I don’t know. But it’s time we found out.”

“You and Mal can go right ahead.”

“It’s something we should all do together,” Rogan insisted.

“Count me out. I’m happy with what I know. I don’t see the need to stir it all up again. It almost destroyed us once already.” Ryan’s chest tightened and he swallowed back a wave of emotion.

His family had never really dealt with his father’s death. At the time, Ryan’s mother, Lydie Quinn, had been so emotionally fragile herself that she hadn’t been able to help her children through the tragedy. Ryan had stood by helplessly as all the happiness had drained out of their lives.

Along the way, Ryan had learned to control his emotions, to stop caring about anything that might make him happy. He’d lived his life waiting for the next disaster to befall their family and building a high wall around his heart to protect himself from the pain.

Malcolm and Rogan had found happiness. They’d fallen in love and were looking forward to rosy futures. But Ryan would never allow himself to be that vulnerable. He couldn’t bring himself to trust that deeply.

“You’re going to have to make a decision soon,” Rogan said. “We leave in three months.”

“Have a good trip,” he muttered.

An uneasy silence fell over the interior of the Range Rover. As if he didn’t already feel like an outsider in his own family, this didn’t make things much better. He and his brothers had always agreed on most subjects, but since Amy and Claudia had come into the picture, that had all changed.

“Is that your plane?” Rogan asked.

Ryan looked up and saw a small jet appear out of the darkness. It rolled to a stop about twenty meters from the car.

“Jaysus, you
will
be traveling in style,” Rogan said, laughing softly.

“Thanks for the lift,” Ryan said. “I’ll see you in a week.”

The door to the plane dropped down, and Ryan jumped out and grabbed his gear from the rear seat. “Wish me luck,” he said.

“I don’t think you’ll be needing any,” Rogan said. “Stay out of trouble.”

Ryan waved and swung his bag over his shoulder, then jogged across the tarmac to the waiting plane. A young man appeared in the doorway as Ryan climbed the steps.

“Mr. Quinn?”

“Yes,” Ryan said.

“Welcome aboard. I’m Miles DuMont. I’m the studio publicist. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Ryan shook his hand. “A publicist?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he whispered. “You’ll barely know I’m here. I’m just along to make sure we control the message. And get a few good photos.”

“The message? What does that mean?” Ryan asked as he moved past him.

“Ms. Hightower tends to find herself in the middle of a media firestorm wherever she goes. I’m the one who carries the fire extinguisher.”

The interior of the plane was dark and silent. Ryan stowed his gear in a locker and glanced toward the back of the plane. “They’ve all had plenty to drink,” Miles said. “Come on back. I’ll introduce you to Serena.”

Ryan followed Miles down the aisle of the plane. Four passengers were curled up in the wide leather seats, sound asleep, but a reading light glowed from a seat at the rear.

“Ms. Hightower?”

Ryan held his breath when he got his first glimpse of the actress. She was stunning. Her long hair was pulled back from her fresh-scrubbed face, and she wore dark-rimmed glasses, which did nothing to hide her large liquid-blue eyes.

“Ms. Hightower, this is Ryan Quinn, the guide.”

She smiled warmly and Ryan’s pulse leaped. He knew he ought to say something, but he couldn’t seem to put the words together. Hell, he was the last guy in the world who would be starstruck, but she was possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. “Hello,” he finally managed.

“Hi,” she said, sending him a coy smile. She stared at him for a long moment and Ryan wondered if she could read his thoughts. Not that his thoughts were any different from those of every other bloke who had the pleasure of meeting her. She slowly reached out her hand, and Ryan took it.

“I—I have some interesting adventures planned for you,” he said, his fingers tingling.

“Good. I’m looking forward to having some fun. Do you like to have fun, Quinn? Or are you like Thom Perry? Do you think I need to behave myself?”

“I—” Ryan frowned, drawing his hand away. She spoke with a distinct British accent. He’d assumed she was American, but clearly he’d been wrong. “What was the question?”

She laughed softly. “Miles, why don’t you get Quinn something to eat and drink. We’ve got a long flight ahead of us and I’m sure he’d like to settle in.”

“Yes, Ms. Hightower.”

With that, Ryan nodded, then turned and made his way to a seat at the front of the plane. He looked back once to see Serena leaning into the aisle and watching his retreat.

“Be warned,” Miles said. “That innocent smile hides a very naughty side. Don’t be taken in.”

“No, of course not,” Ryan murmured.

But as he sank into the soft leather seat, a strange sense of anticipation settled over him. He couldn’t help but be curious. Who was Serena Hightower? And why did the simple touch of her hand startle him so?

He rubbed his hand on the faded fabric of his jeans, as if the action might banish all thoughts of Serena from his head. But it didn’t work. Unless he regained a measure of control, this was going to be a very long trip.

* * *

S
ERENA
H
IGHTOWER
STARED
out the window of the jet, her gaze fixed on the blinking light at the end of the wing. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, trying to clear the chaotic thoughts from her mind.

She rubbed her hands together, wondering why the effects of the man’s touch seemed to linger. Yes, Ryan Quinn was attractive...and sexy...and he had a dangerous air. And, yes, any woman would find him irresistible. But she was engaged. Engaged to be married in a few weeks! And all she could think about was some stranger she’d just met.

“Ryan,” she murmured. “Ryan Quinn.”

Serena groaned. How had she allowed this engagement to get so far? When she’d accepted Ben’s proposal, she’d never really believed it would result in a wedding. She’d been infatuated, giddy with the romance of being in love. But the realities of their situation had soon begun to emerge. They hadn’t dated very long, and Serena had soon realized that she didn’t really know Ben. Though they were both actors with high-profile careers and permanent places in the gossip magazines, they had very different ideas about a commited relationship, especially when it came to fidelity.

Serena had spent a lifetime watching her parents make a hash of their multiple marriages. Living life as the only child of a celebrity couple should have opened her eyes to the realities of love, especially the fact that actors had so many temptations to stray.

When they’d first gotten involved, Serena hadn’t cared that Ben Thayer had a reputation as a player—she’d just taken it as a reality of the biz. Besides, she hadn’t been concerned about getting hurt, because she was going into the marriage with her eyes wide open.

So how had she lost control of this?

For some reason she’d assumed that the media would be happy to report the engagement and then move on to more interesting stories. But they’d immediately pressed her to set a wedding date. She’d just tossed a date out, figuring she could always change her mind. Unfortunately, her “team” had taken the date as gospel and had begun to plan, clearing her schedule, searching for wedding venues, hiring a wedding planner.