Bailey's Irish Dream (9 page)

“Yes.”

“What do you think I should do?  You’re the one who got me into this mess.”

“Why do you always blame me?  If you didn’t want to be Stanley, you shouldn’t have.  It’s not like I’d threatened you or anything.”  She thought some more.  “The evils of greed.  People will do anything for money.  Well, not me.  Money doesn’t mean anything.”

“The only people who would say something stupid like that are the ones who have more money than they need.”  He continued to stare at her for a moment, before closing his eyes. 

Bailey released her breath quietly, shifting in her seat.  Maybe he’d be in a better mood if she let him sleep for awhile.  Strumming her fingers on the arm of the chair, she tried to think what to do.  Her brother-in-law was a lawyer, maybe he could help.  Or maybe they should just call the police. 

“Would you stop all that racket?  I’m trying to think here.”

Bailey’s fingers froze in place.  “Sorry.”  Sighing, she said, “Maybe I should go.”

Sitting up, two lines of worry appeared between his eyes as he looked at her.  “You’re not going anywhere without me.  Until this is over I’m gonna stick to you like a fly on honey.”  He tossed back the rest of his drink, dumped the melted ice from his hand into the empty glass, and set it on the end table.

When he switched all that intensity to her, she became confused.  “I don’t understand.  I thought you wanted to get rid of me.”

“I do.  But I don’t trust those guys that were here.  Bailey,” he said softly, “promise me you won’t leave my side until this is over.”

She tingled as he said her name, and the way his eyes bored into hers made her pulse skitter alarmingly.  “I promise,” she said, her mouth suddenly dry.  She licked her lips to moisten them. 

“We’re in over our heads here.  I think we should let the FBI handle this.”

“The FBI?  But what if Stanley doesn’t know anything either?  What if those creeps have him confused with someone else?”

“That’s highly unlikely.”

“Why?  They got
you
confused with Stanley.”

Quinn flashed her a disdaining look.  “Why are you trying to protect him?”

“I’m not,” she said.  “But if we call the FBI, they’re going to ask all sorts of questions.  They’re going to want to know why you were pretending to be Stanley in the first place.  And they’ll question my parents.  The whole thing will be so embarrassing.”

“So, what’s your plan?  Just sit back and do nothing?”

Bailey thought a moment.  “If those guys aren’t coming back until Saturday, we have a few days to find the diamonds ourselves.  Maybe they’re inside Stanley’s house.” 

“I’m not breaking into someone’s house to look for lost diamonds.”

“We don’t have to break in.  Stanley left a key under the mat.”

“Forget it.  Besides, do you really think Stanley left the country and forgot to take the diamonds with him?”

“Well then, maybe we could just tell them we lost the diamonds, and offer to pay for them.” 

Standing, his voice rose.  “What?  Are you crazy?  I have no idea what they’re worth, but I’ll bet you they have at least a six-figure price tag.  I don’t have that kind of money, and even if I did, I wouldn’t give it to those two.  Besides, I’m not the one who owes them.  Stanley is.”  Blowing out his breath in a huff, he ran his hands through his hair and started to pace in the small area between the sofa and chair, looking like a hungry caged tiger, ready to pounce on her.  “For Chrissakes, I don’t need this.  I’ve got my own problems.” 

Every fiber in her body warned her against him, but she needed to make him understand.  “But I have no idea where Stanley is, let alone how to reach him.”  She folded her hands in her lap, twisting her fingers together.  “What a mess.” 

“So, you’re willing to just throw mega bucks at these guys?” he asked, coming to stop in front
of the recliner, his eyes assessing her.

“Well . . . yes.  Unless you’d rather they beat you up again?”

“Where the hell did you get so much money, anyway?”

“A rich grandfather.  My mother’s father.”  She licked her lips again, hating the way he was staring at her.  Like it was a crime to have money.  It wasn’t her fault she was rich.  “He died several years ago, and left Kaitlyn and me . . . comfortable.  We were his only grandchildren,” she explained.  There was no reason to share
with him the obscene amount her grandfather had left her.

“Well it’s no wonder you can’t understand that I work hard for my money, being that you grew up rich.”

Bailey squared her shoulders, sitting up straight.  “I never said I grew up rich.  My father was a proud man who’d refused to take a penny from my grandfather.  He made his own way in life.”

“Doing what?” he snapped.

“He worked for the State for awhile.  The Fish and Game Commission.  Then later he opened his own tackle shop on the peninsula.  After he sold the business, he made some smart investments.”  Quinn stared down at her as if he didn’t believe a word she’d said.  “You can ask my father if you don’t believe me.  He’d never lie.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.”  Shoving his hands in his jeans pockets he turned away. 

Getting to her feet, Bailey came up behind him.  “Why don’t you believe me?”

Quinn spun around to face her, almost knocking her off her feet in the process.  “Because every time your lips move, you’re lying.”

Lifting her hands in the air, she let them drop to her sides.  “That’s the second time today I’ve been accused of being a liar.  And both times I was trying to tell the truth.”

“Maybe you should try harder.”

“Have you believed anything I’ve said?” she asked, her eyes locking with his and her heart lurching madly.

“Yeah,” he said, touching her bare arms.  “I believed you when you said you had some kind of crazy fantasy about us after I kissed you last night.  Because I had one too.” 

He stepped closer and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her softly.  Leaving her mouth he brushed a gentle kiss across her forehead.  “Still willing to share that fantasy with me?” he asked.  Then, without waiting for her answer, he kissed her mouth again, his warm, demanding lips caressing hers.  He tasted like bourbon and smelled like soap and pure male. 

Returning his kiss with reckless abandon, Bailey draped her arms over his shoulders and leaned into him.  He was rock hard and solid, his heart pounding against her breast.  Touching him sent shock waves through her entire body, her senses reeling as if they’d been short-circuited. 

Gently, Quinn outlined the circle of her breast with one hand, while the other hand pulled her hips to him.  His erection was thick, long and hard against her belly, and her body began to vibrate with liquid fire.  She didn’t protest when his hands sought the buttons of her blouse, nor when he pushed it off her shoulders. 

Unsnapping her bra, he eased the lacy cups aside and toyed with her dusky pink nipples.  His touch was light, but painfully teasing.  His fingers were icy, but the palms fiery hot.  “God, Bailey,” he whispered, his breath hot against her neck.  “You’re so beautiful.” 

Taking one nipple into his mouth, he suckled her, nipping with his teeth, while he continued to torment the other nipple with his thumb and forefinger.

The blood pounded in Bailey’s brain, and her knees trembled.  Fearing she might collapse her hands clutched at his shoulder, and the back of his neck, for support.  Her breath came in long surrendering moans.  Quinn released her nipples and swung her into his arms, her blouse and bra tumbling to the floor.  In one swift movement, he fell into the recliner and settled her on his lap, her legs straddling his thighs.

With his hands on her hips, he ground his pelvis into her, her body moving instinctively with his, seeking something more.  His tormented groan was a heady invitation to rock gently against him.  He kissed one breast, then the other, his tongue trailing a warm, moist path toward her navel.  Gasping in sweet agony, she fell against his chest and kissed his jaw tenderly, caressing the strong tendons in the back of his neck. 

She felt his fingers at the waistband of her shorts.  “I want you, Bailey,” he whispered, grazing her earlobe.  Between words he planted kisses on her shoulders, neck and face.  “I want you so badly.”  Slowly, he unzipped her shorts, the sound of metal teeth echoing in the silence.

On a sigh, she said, “I think I should mention that . . .”

“What?”  Quinn tilted his head back and studied her face.  “What is it?”

“I think I should mention that . . .”  She repeated herself, and swallowed.  “I’ve never done this before.”

Quinn stared at her, a swift shadow of confusion sweeping across his swollen face, his eyes darkening.  “You’re a virgin?” 

She nodded. 

As if she’d just confessed to being a murderer, he shoved her off his lap.  “Jesus,” he swore.

“I don’t believe this!” Quinn swore again, raking his hands through his hair while Bailey scrambled into her bra and fastened it.  He didn’t want to look at her, but he couldn’t help himself.  She was so slender.  So fragile.  And a
virgin
for chrissakes!

Resting a hip against the breakfast bar he buried his face in his hands.  “Ouch!” he yelled.  He’d almost forgotten about his swollen face. 

“I’m a
virgin
, for God’s sake,” Bailey said, bending over and reaching for her blouse.  “It’s not like I have some contagious disease.”

“Why, Bailey?  You’re twenty-eight years old. 
Nobody
is a virgin at twenty-eight.”

Buttoning her blouse with trembling fingers, she shrugged and said, “I’d just never met anyone I wanted to make love with before.”

“You were engaged three times!  How could you not want to make love with the men you’d planned to marry?”

Her voice rose an octave.  “I don’t know, okay?”  She lifted her chin and glared at him.  “But I’d just never had the urge . . . before now.”

“I don’t believe this,” he said again.  “In another minute I would have been inside you.”  She looked away, clearly embarrassed.  “Why me, Bailey?”

Slowly, she turned her head toward him.  “I don’t know.  Maybe because I felt . . . sorry for you.”

That did it!  The anger came bubbling out of him like hot lava from an exploding volcano.  “You felt
sorry
for me?  What was this supposed to be?” he shouted, moving toward her.  “Some kind of mercy fu--”  He stopped short of saying the word.

“Stop it!  Stop shouting at me!”  She balled her hands into fists and planted them on her hips.  “And you don’t need to be vulgar.”  

“I’m not the one who’s vulgar.”  He pointed a finger at her turned up nose.  “What
you
did, that was vulgar.  Why don’t you just admit why you almost let me--”  Quinn broke off, choosing his words more carefully this time.  “Why don’t you just admit you have the hots for me?  That you can’t control yourself when I’m anywhere near you?”

“You are so full of yourself.”

“Am I?” he taunted.  Tracing a finger along her bare arm, he smiled satisfactorily when she quivered. 

Shoving his hand away, she crossed her arms over her chest, and shot him a cool haughty look.  “I don’t feel like discussing this any further.”

Well, neither did he. 

Finally, suppressing his anger, he said, “Let’s get out of here, before we both do something we’re liable to regret.”  Because Quinn knew, if he had to look at her a moment longer, he was going to finish what they’d started.  And that could be the biggest mistake of his life.

* * * * * * * * * *

They’d taken Bailey’s car downtown to FBI Headquarters and were immediately met by an agent.  Agent Tanelli was a stocky man, close to fifty years old, with short black curly hair.  He listened intently to both she and Quinn, but after a barrage of questions, she wasn’t sure the agent believed their story.

Tanelli removed the gold wire-rimmed glasses from his face and massaged the bridge of his nose.  “Now, let’s see if I have this straight,” he said, putting his glasses back in place.  “These two men said they were looking for your fiancé, Stanley Davenport.  Is that correct?”  He looked pointedly at her from across the scarred mahogany desk. 

“My ex-fiancé,” Bailey corrected. 

“Oh, that’s right.  Mr. Quinn here,” the man said, glancing at Quinn, eyebrows raised, “is now your fiancé.”  Quinn narrowed his eyes at the man.

“My pretend fiancé,” she said. 

Tanelli nodded as he wrote something on a yellow legal pad.  “
Pretend
fiancé.”  Looking up again, he said, “And you offered to pay Mr. Quinn a large sum of money to impersonate another man, right?”

“Yes, but then Quinn said he didn’t want any money.”  Why was he making this so darn difficult? she wondered. 

“Uh, huh,” he said, writing again.  “Because you’re old friends, he decided to help you out of a tough situation with your family.  Was that it?”

“No,” Bailey said, wringing her hands in her lap and moistening her lips.  “Mr. Quinn and I are not old friends.  I barely know him.  I only met him two days ago.  The day I asked him to help me.” 
How much simpler could she make this for him?  She thought FBI agents were supposed to be smart, but she wondered about this guy.

“So, you asked a complete stranger to help you, and offered to pay him one hundred thousand dollars if he’d come to dinner at your house?”

“Yes.”  Bailey smiled at Quinn, who shook his head and refused to look at her.

“I’ll bet he jumped at the chance.”

“Look, Agent Tanelli,” Quinn said.  “I’m not the bad guy here.  I’m just trying to protect Ms. Maguire.”

“By extorting money from her?” the agent asked.

“I never extorted any money from her.  I tore up the check she gave me.”

“I thought you said earlier she never gave you any money?”

Quinn leaned forward in his chair and swallowed so hard, Bailey could hear him.  “Look,” he said, punctuating the word, “There are two thugs out there who tried to rearrange my face today.  Now are you going to help us, or what?”

Bailey tapped Quinn’s shoulder, and he jerked his head toward her.  “What?” he snapped.

“Quinn, it wouldn’t be fair to blame those guys--as much as I didn’t care for them--for smashing the right side of your face.”  Bailey turned her attention to Agent Tanelli.  “That side was already damaged before the bad guys arrived.”

“I see.  Who was it that tried to take out your right eye, Mr. Quinn?”

When Quinn didn’t answer, Bailey nudged him in the arm.  “Tell him.  Tell him about the dissatisfied customer.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, but still Quinn didn’t answer.

Agent Tanelli zoomed in on Quinn.  “So how long have you known Stanley Davenport?”

“I don’t know him.  I never met the man.”

“Oh, that’s right.  You’re just impersonating him.”  He made another note.

Quinn surprised Bailey, pulling her to her feet.  “C’mon, let’s go.  This guy thinks we’re a couple of crackpots.”

Bailey shrugged him off and whirled on Agent Tanelli.  “We’re not crackpots.  Or at least I’m not,” she said, glancing at Quinn.  “We just want you to help us find the diamonds, so we can give them to the bad guys.”

“Well, I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, Ms. Maguire.”

“Sorry we wasted your time,” Quinn said to the agent, then picked Bailey up, tossed her over his shoulder, and hauled her out of the office.

Once outside, Bailey punched him in the shoulder.  “Put me down before you get arrested for abducting me.”

He set her on the curb next to her car and glared at her.  “Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut, and let me handle it?  I told you not to say anything.”

“Well, excuse me, but I don’t have to listen to you.”

“You don’t listen to anyone apparently.  You’re so damn headstrong.”  He lifted a finger and pointed it at her.  “If you would have taken my advice that day at the bar and told your parents the truth, none of this would have happened today.  Or maybe you should have listened to your friend Gwen when she told you to buy a vibrator and swear off men for good.  Obviously you have no need for them.”

“I knew it!  I knew you were eavesdropping that day!”  Pulling her keys from her pocket, she started around the front of the car. 

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said, rounding on her.  “I’m not letting you drive again.  You almost got us killed twice on the way here.”

Rather than argue, Bailey tossed the keys at him, got in the passenger side and buckled up.  Quinn hopped inside, jerked away from the cur
b, and sped away.  “Nice car,” were the only words he said on the way home.

* * * * * * * * * *

After stopping at the bar for Quinn’s bike, he followed Bailey to her house.  It was all she could do to keep her eyes on the road and off the motorcycle behind her.  Or rather the
man
on the motorcycle. 

He infuriated her.  So, how could she have behaved so shamelessly in his apartment?  Maybe because ever since she’d met the man, she hadn’t been herself.  That’s why. 

Maybe her mother was right, and she needed to see a psychiatrist.  But what would she tell a shrink? 
I met this man . . . a man I’m not even sure I like very much.  And ever since then I’ve had this strange desire to lose my virginity?
 

She pulled into her drive, Quinn directly behind her.  Getting out of her car, she slammed the door and headed toward the house just as he hopped off the bike.

“Wait a minute,” Quinn said, catching her by the arm.  He sucked in a huge breath, releasing it slowly.  “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she asked.

“For everything.”

“Fine,” she said, refusing to look at him.

He didn’t release her.  Instead, he lifted the sunglasses from her face and gazed into her eyes. 
“Fine? 
Not
I’m sorry too
?”

She straightened herself with dignity, her lips twisting into a cynical smile.  “I have nothing to be sorry for.  If you expect me to apologize because I’m a virgin, then you’re sadly mistaken.”

“I wasn’t mad because you’re a virgin,” he said between his teeth.

“Well, that’s so noble of you.”

“I was angry at myself for almost . . .”  He paused a moment.  “You could have told me.”

“I
did
tell you.”

“I meant a little sooner.”

“What did you want me to do?  Wear a sign across my chest, advertising it?”  She streaked her fingers across the front of her blouse.  “I’m a virgin,” she yelled, “in big, bold letters, just in case anyone was wondering?”

“Damnit, Bailey, I’m trying to--”

“There you are!”  Mimi opened the screen door, stuck her head out and smiled at her.  Turning her attention to Quinn, she asked, “What’s wrong with your face?” and stared at him like he had some kind of deformity. 

“I’m accident-prone.”

Mimi raised her eyebrows, then looked at Bailey.  “Where have you been all afternoon?  I was getting worried.  You should come in out of that heat and lie down.  I’ll get you a nice cold glass of milk.”

Before Bailey had a chance to tell her mother she didn’t want any milk, Mimi spoke again.  “And while you’re resting, Stanley and I are going to have a little chat.” 

Bailey’s eyes drifted toward Quinn, silently apologizing for her mother. 

“Great,” she heard Quinn mumble. 

“Why don’t you pour the milk, and I’ll be right in,” Bailey suggested.  “I just need to talk to Stanley alone for a minute.” 

She tugged him to the side of the house, out of hearing range.  “Quinn, please behave yourself.  My mother isn’t well.  I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but she’s been seeing a psychiatrist.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?  Maybe you should go with her.  They might have a two-for-one special.”

“Very funny.”

“Oh, that’s right.  You don’t need a special rate, because you have so damn much money to throw around, it doesn’t matter.”  There was a bitter edge of cynicism in his voice.

Bailey stiffened, momentarily abashed.  “Are you through insulting me?”

He at least had the decency to look ashamed.  “Why does your mother want to talk to me?  And when are you going to tell her the truth?”

“I don’t know.  Just do this for me.  Please,” she begged, swallowing the despair in her throat.  “Please, Quinn.”

His answer was a strangled sigh.  He handed the sunglasses back to her.  “I know I’m going to regret this.” 

“Thank you.  I owe you.” 
Standing on her tip-toes, she kissed his mouth quickly and then, taking his hand in hers, dragged him inside the house.

* * * * * * * * * *

“I suppose you’re wondering why I wanted to speak to you alone?” Mimi Maguire began, once she’d shooed Bailey out of the kitchen. 

For the second time that day, Quinn knew he was about to be reprimanded by another Maguire for his so-called sins.  Shrugging, he said, “The thought crossed my mind.”  He picked up the glass of lemonade Bailey had poured for him and chugged it down.

“Well, I’ll tell you why.”  Mimi Maguire pulled out the chair across from him and sat.  “I decided that my daughter would never have agreed to marry you if you weren’t a decent man.  In spite of how hard you tried to make us think otherwise last night.”

She was pretty shrewd, he thought.

“I finally came to the conclusion that since you’re a performer, that maybe you were a comedian as well.  And that maybe most of the things you’d said last evening weren’t really true.”  Her face was full of strength, her lips parting in a stiff smile.  “Am I getting warm?”

Quinn sighed.  “Pretty warm.” 

That brought a full-fledged smile to her face.  “I thought so.”  She took a sip of lemonade from her own glass and set it down carefully.  “So, you don’t really have four children.  Do you, Stanley?”