Saturday morning when he left her.
Chloe put on a robe and walked him out to his beautiful old car. She kissed him goodbye—a long, slow, lovely kiss.
When he would have let her go, she grabbed him back and kissed him some more.
He laughed when he finally lifted his head. “Hey. I’m only going around the block.”
“I know.” She sighed, wrapped her arms around his waist, and beamed up at him. “But I want to make sure you don’t forget me.”
“No chance of that.” He took a curl of her hair and wrapped it around his hand. “We got a special thing going, you and me.”
“Oh, yes, we do.”
He touched her chin with his thumb, brushed one last kiss across her upturned lips. “Get some rest.”
She promised she would and reluctantly stepped back so he could open the car door and slide in behind the wheel. Then she waited, her arms wrapped around herself against the predawn chill, as he backed from the driveway and drove off down the street.
As soon as his taillights disappeared, she missed him. She wanted to run inside, grab the phone and call him back.
Which was totally silly. He’d asked her to marry him. And she was redecorating his house—both of his houses, as a matter of fact.
One way or another, she would be seeing him very soon.
* * *
She saw him the next day. He called and invited her out for ice cream with him and Annabelle. Chloe spent two lovely hours with father and daughter. Annabelle enchanted her. It might be too soon to talk about falling in love with Quinn. But she had no problem admitting she was head over heels for his little girl.
And then, that night, Quinn came up the hill to join her. He stayed for two hours. They talked about Annabelle and about Chloe’s plans for his houses—and then they made love. He left at a little past midnight.
Same thing on Sunday night.
Monday at nine in the morning, Quinn closed on the house across the street from Chloe. Then, at eleven, he brought Manny and Annabelle to Chloe’s showroom to see the plans and sign the contract for the redesign of the house down the hill. Chloe had cookies on offer at the coffee table, which Annabelle spotted immediately. Manny said she could have one.
Annabelle chose a cookie, thanked Chloe sweetly—and asked if she knew how to make a fairy princess dress. “I want one, Chloe. Will you please make me one?”
Before Chloe could reply that she absolutely could and would, Quinn said, “Anniefannie, you are pushing it.”
“Daddy!” The little girl tipped her cute nose high in a perfect imitation of disdain. “I’m not a fannie.”
“But will you stop pushing it?”
Annabelle dimpled adorably. “But Chloe can make a room. I know she can make me a fairy princess dress.” She turned pleading eyes on Chloe, who longed only to give her whatever she wanted. “Pleeeaaase, Chloe.”
Manny spoke up then. He said one word. “Annabelle.” After which he pushed back his chair and held out his hand.
Annabelle’s lower lip started quivering. “Oh, no. Not the car. I don’t want to sit in the car. Pleeaaassse, Manny.”
Manny let out a heavy sigh. “Are you gonna stop pestering Chloe and sit quietly at the table while we finish our business here?”
Annabelle announced loudly, “Yes, I am!”
Manny mimed locking his lips with a key.
Annabelle straightened her small shoulders and folded her hands on the table, all the while pressing her lips together and pointedly glancing from one adult to the next.
Finally, Manny nodded. “All right. We’ll give it a try.”
Annabelle nodded wildly but kept her little mouth tightly shut.
“Eat your cookie,” Quinn said in his gentlest voice.
Annabelle made short work of the treat. And then Manny gave her a cup of crayons and some paper. She was a perfect little angel, happily coloring away as the grown-ups finished their meeting.
That afternoon, Chloe visited Bravo Construction, which consisted of three trailers and a warehouse on the southwest edge of town. She met with Nell Bravo, who was in her late twenties and stunningly beautiful, with long auburn hair and a vivid half-sleeve tattoo down her shapely left arm. The baby of the Bravo family, Nell had always been outspoken and tough-minded. Everyone knew you didn’t mess with Nell.
Chloe had the plans with her for Quinn’s redesign. She spent two hours in Nell’s office trailer, going over everything in detail, coming to agreement on the budget and the schedule.
Nell would personally run the job. Tomorrow, Chloe would get busy ordering cabinets and appliances, counters and flooring. Nell would put in for the permits they would need. Demo would begin first thing next Monday morning. If all went as planned—which it rarely did—the project would take nine to ten weeks.
At four o’clock, when they had everything pretty well hammered out, Chloe got up to leave.
And Nell hoisted her heavy black biker boots up onto her battered desk. “Before you head out, we need to talk. Hey, Ruby?”
The plump, motherly looking clerk at the desk near the door glanced around. “What do you need?”
“Take fifteen?”
“Sure.” Ruby got up from her laptop and left the trailer.
Chloe had a sinking feeling in her stomach.
Nell proved the feeling right as soon as the door closed behind the clerk. “So, I hear you’ve had a thing for Quinn ever since high school. Is that true?”
Chloe dropped back into her chair. “Monique Hightower’s been talking.”
“Did you think she wouldn’t?”
Chloe suppressed a sigh. “No. I knew she would.” It had all seemed so amusing Friday night. But looking in Nell’s narrowed eyes right now, she didn’t think it was funny at all.
Quinn’s sister demanded, “Answer my first question.”
Chloe drew herself up. “Yeah. I had certain...fantasies about Quinn way back when. Is that somehow a crime?”
“He’s not just a piece of tasty meat. He’s a good man.”
Tasty meat? Chloe took care to keep her voice even. “I know he’s a good man, Nell.”
“You slumming?”
Chloe didn’t let her gaze waver. “I absolutely am not—and why would you think that? Quinn’s a brilliant man with a whole lot going for him. The word slumming just doesn’t apply.”
“Oh, come on, Chloe. Your mother was practically best friends with my father’s first wife. No way Linda Winchester’s going to approve of you seeing one of the bastard Bravos—especially not the ‘stupid’ one who barely managed to finish high school.”
Chloe felt the angry color flooding upward on her cheeks. When would people stop assuming that her mother made her choices for her? “Nell.” She made a show of clucking her tongue. “Where do I even start with you? Not fair. Not to Quinn. And not to me. He’s far from stupid and he’s done just fine for himself. We both know that. As for me, yes, it’s true. I used to let my mother have way too much influence over me. But that was then. Right this minute, I’m thirty-one, divorced, fully self-supporting and on my own. My mother has zero say about whom I go out with.”
Nell’s lush mouth twisted. “Does your mother know that?”
Busted. “I’ll say it again. I decide whom I spend