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Marie lifted her shovel and dumped another load onto the three-foot-high bank winter had accumulated at the mouth of her driveway. Snow weighed a ton at this time of year with the warmer temperatures, but the overnight flurries had only resulted in an inch of cover, so she couldn’t justify starting the blower. Besides, the exercise would do her good—if it didn’t give her a heart attack.
She would have started earlier, but Candy had called that morning. Apparently Justin had been blowing hot, then cold, then hotter, then absolute zero, and Candy thought she’d finally figured out why. Marie was disappointed, as she always was when matches didn’t work out, but particularly in this case since she’d had such a strong feeling Candy and Justin would enjoy each other enough to start a relationship, at least for a while.
Though she’d found Justin attractive, articulate and interesting, Marie would admit that something about him hadn’t quite rung true. He didn’t strike her as shallow, as Candy insisted—face it, if women rejected every guy powerfully drawn to females in skimpy clothing, the human species would eventually die out. But Justin had seemed hyper-observant in her office, both of her and of the process, as if she were the one being interviewed instead of him. Since he’d been so charming, and since Marie had found his analysis of the dynamics of his last relationship unusually honest and perceptive, she’d dismissed her reaction. Maybe Candy had gotten some of the same not-quite-right vibes?
In any case, if Candy was truly interested in moving on from Chuck, she wouldn’t stay single long, not with that fresh beauty and enthusiasm for life. Darcy, too, could find happiness if she’d slow down long enough to acknowledge her needs. Big “if.” She’d never responded to Marie’s call about meeting Quinn. As for Kim, her reticence would make her a harder sell because she needed a guy patient enough to coax her out of her shell. Matching her with a sweet, quiet man would be wasting her.
Marie heaved another half shovelful of leaden ice chunks and paused, bending forward to readjust her sore back.
At the lowest point of her stretch, something jabbed her most personal bits from behind. She yelped and spun around to face the dog’s apologetic owner, jogging up the block to call off his pervert hound.
Quinn. Looking as surprised to see her as she was to see him, and incredibly hot in navy sweats and a gray sweatshirt.
“Dante,
come.” The dog, which looked to be part golden retriever, part who-knew-what, went obediently; Quinn snapped on his leash. “Hi, Marie. Sorry about that. I had him on the leash earlier for our run, but he still had plenty of sprint in him after I was winding down, so I let him go on ahead.”
Marie laughed, more flustered than amused. “Not a problem.”
“Is this your house?”
“Yes.” She clutched her shovel, wishing he’d move on with Dante. At the bar she was safely anonymous, in control of how long she stayed, whether she spoke to him, how much he knew, how she dressed. Outside today, he had her cornered at 130
her home, unshowered, without makeup, wearing Saturday-morning clothes. Since she’d only seen him while sitting on the high chairs at Roots, she hadn’t realized how tall he was.
Six-two? Six-three? At five-three, she felt like a child next to him.
“Need some help?” He told Dante to stay and stepped toward her, hand out.
“Oh, no, I’m fine, really.”
“Let me.” He reached for the shovel. “I did mine already.
It’s like shoveling bricks.”
“Thank you.” Marie watched gratefully while he scooped up huge loads as if the dense snow were fresh powder. She couldn’t help brief speculation as to what that chest and those shoulders looked like under his loose-fitting sweats. What a head-turning couple he and Darcy would make. Marie could imagine the two of them on a Hollywood red carpet, at a White House dinner, skiing the Alps, cruising the Amazon, having sex in every position known to man, and a few not.
She sighed, but made her face brighten when Quinn finished. “Thank you so much. That was really nice of you.”
“Not a problem.” He handed the shovel back. “I was about to go get a cup of coffee and a sandwich from Joe’s Java. Want to come with me? My treat.”
