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The knock on the bedroom door had her springing across the room and opening the door to see Quinn leaning against the far wall, his hands in his pockets and his dark eyes slumberous as they travelled over her hot face. 'All ready?'
'Uh-huh.' Ready? She had never felt so less ready in all her life, especially when confronted with the pure male sensuality that was an intrinsic part of Quinn and lethal in content. She forced a quick smile and pulled the door shut behind her as he levered himself off the wall and held out his hand. Help! Double help! Triple help! She took his hand and walked with him down the stairs and out into the sunshine, as though the feel of his warm fingers holding hers wasn't causing her heart to beat in her throat.
Quinn stopped just outside the threshold of the house, locking the door before picking up the wicker basket at the side of the stone steps. 'Lunch,' he explained briefly, and then handed her a pretty little homemade corsage of bright white daisies with gold centres. 'I had to fill in the time while I was waiting,' he said lazily in reply to her delighted thank you.
'Here.' He took the flowers from her and fixed them into the band holding the ponytail. 'Perfect.' He stood back to admire the effect and then, as she smiled at him, the laughter died in his eyes and was replaced by something much more raw before he bent and picked up the basket again.
'Matt
tells me there are some fifty acres of grounds in all,' Quinn said quietly as he reached for her hand again and drew her further into the sunshine. 'Formal gardens surrounding the house, then the orchards and paddocks beyond, and beyond them he's let a good number of acres grow into wild meadow. His wife is something of a conservationist,' he added almost apologetically. 'She's into planting wildflowers and so on.'
'Good for her.' Candy glanced at him, so big and dark at her side, and felt her heart turn over, 'I love wildflowers; they're the prettiest of all.'
'Yes, I thought you might.' He glanced at her, the black eyes narrowed in a face that was too handsome by half. 'We'll just follow our noses, then?'
Unlike her wedding day, Candy was to remember every minute of that wonderful day for the rest of her life. There was a slight breeze in the air which stopped the day from being too hot, and as they strolled along in the warm sunshine they talked easily—too easily, Candy was to think later, when she realised just how much she had revealed about her childhood hopes and fears and the way things had been—until, just after two, when they were knee-deep in the meadows Quinn had spoken of, he suggested they eat lunch.
'What a wonderful, wonderful place.'
The grassy dell in which they were sitting was a carpet of wildflowers, their scents perfuming the still summer air and causing the steady drone of bees to become a low background hum as they searched for pollen.
'Step out of life,' Quinn agreed lazily, and then, as he unpacked the very superior picnic hamper and caught her amazed eyes, he grinned, adding, 'Courtesy of a first-class local delicatessen, I'm afraid. I'd like to take the credit but my innate honesty forbids it.'
It was the grin that did it. It was beguiling little boy and sexy man of the world and a million other things besides, and yet another facet to Quinn's complex personality. She knew there were countless other women who would be bowled over, just as she was, but it didn't make any difference. He was devastating. Devastating and dangerous and frighteningly irresistible.
But she had to resist him. Candy tried to summon up the antagonistic spirit of earlier but it was hopeless. Then she had been alone in her bedroom—now she was with Quinn, the real flesh and blood man, and it made all the difference in the world.
'Here,' He handed her an elegant crystal glass filled with deep red wine, which was as far removed from the paper cups and warm lemonade Candy associated with picnics as chalk from cheese, and raised his own glass as he said, 'Another toast, from you this time?'
There were a hundred and one things that sprang to mind, but all of them would have destroyed the carefree mood of the moment, and so she dismissed terms like 'lifelong happiness' and 'our future together' and said instead, her mouth smiling, 'To more picnics like this,' and was rewarded by his appreciative chuckle.
The wine tasted of cherries and blackcurrants and hot summer days in the country and made her head spin. And the lunch…the lunch was heavenly. Smoked salmon and caviare and chicken coated in something wonderful, along with other delicacies that were out of this world—there wasn't a jam sandwich in sight. And just when Candy thought she couldn't eat another thing Quinn produced a bowl of succulent strawberries out of the magic basket, which he insisted had to be eaten with the bottle of champagne that followed them.
'That was wonderful.' Candy blushed as Quinn sent her a mockingly quizzical glance from wicked black eyes as she finished off more than her fair share of the strawberries. 'Well, it was. I can't help it if you tempt me,' she said with sleepy defiance, draining her glass of the strawberry-tasting, effervescent champagne. 'I'm a glutton; I admit it.'
'Relaxed?' Quinn's voice was deep and throaty and made her want to purr, like a small well-fed cat.
'Totally.' She lay back on the sun-warmed grass, the scent of flowers heady in her nostrils and the sunshine stroking her face with its languid heat.
'Happy?'
'Ummm.' She was too comfortable and too content to even open her eyes. The past had gone; the future didn't matter. All that was real was the sunshine, the feel and smell of the soft perfumed carpet beneath her, and Quinn.
She felt him draw her head on to his chest, but she still didn't open her eyes, and when he said, his voice very soft, 'Go to sleep, little glutton,' she was already drifting into the mellow folds of slumber that were swamping her with soothing languor.
She wasn't sure how long she slept, but it was the feel of something slightly strange—alien—beneath the smooth skin of her face that awoke her. And then she realised what it was. She froze, still curled into the warmth and smell of Quinn, with her head on his naked chest—his shirt was open to the waist—and opened her eyes slowly.
'You purse your lips when you're asleep, like a small child.'
She gazed up past the tight black curls on his thickly muscled torso but she couldn't think of a thing to say.
'What were you dreaming about just now?'
'I don't know.' Her voice was a breathless whisper.
'Was it me?' he asked huskily. And then, without waiting for an answer, he began to kiss her, drawing her up to lie along the length of him as he took her lips. Her soft, full breasts were pressed against his chest, her belly resting against his as his hands moved down the length of her, and his breathing was as ragged and sharp as her own.
'You're so beautiful, Candy, exquisite…' He moved in one lithe manoeuvre that brought him leaning over her, and she gasped as she felt his touch on the swell of her breasts. His open palms moulded their voluptuousness and then the dress was about her waist and he had released them from their lace cups, his thumbs rolling over her erect nipples and causing such incredible pleasure she was shaking. But it was nothing to what she did when his mouth followed his hands.
