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CHAPTERONE
The heat in the car was stifling. The air conditioning had conked out somewhere in Middle America. But after six grueling days of driving, Alexandra Garcia had finally reached her destination: Hudson Island, Washington.
She stared at the large two-story Craftsman house with its wraparound porch. Two wooden rockers and a couple potted plants with pink and purple blooms gave it a warm, homey ambiance. Still, nerves and trepidation swirled in her stomach.
She let out a shaky breath. She’d be safe here. She had to be.
A wave of nausea hit, and her mouth filled with saliva. She shoved open the car door and, with her seatbelt cutting into her neck and shoulder, retched onto the driveway.
When her stomach stopped heaving, she eased back into the car and grimaced at the bitter taste lingering in her mouth.
With a tired sigh, she began to lower the vanity mirror, then thought better of it. She didn’t want to know what she looked like. She imagined she looked a lot worse than she felt—and she felt like absolute crap.
Readjusting her oversized sunglasses, she got out of the car, carefully avoided her vomit, and gingerly climbed the steps to the house. Her entire body ached as she made her way to the far side of the porch and tried to recall Joe’s instructions. Unsure if her memory was correct—the last couple weeks had been one giant blur—she reached behind the planter that sat between the two well-loved rocking chairs. A groan of relief escaped her lips when her fingers found the key.
She trudged to the door and slipped the key into the lock. But before she could turn the handle, the door swung open, and a large, solid man came to an abrupt halt in the threshold.
She swallowed a scream, and her pulse raced as she staggered backward. She nearly tumbled down the front steps, but strong hands caught her arms, righted her, and then promptly released her. The man stepped away and back into the doorway. His arms crossed over his broad chest, and he quickly looked her over. From the way his jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed, it was obvious he didn’t like what he saw.
“Alex Garcia, I assume?”
Her heart pounded in her ears. All she could do was nod.
“I’m Quinn,” he said.
The two words were spoken as if she should know who he was. She didn’t. He let out a sigh that sounded exasperated.
She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out.
“I’m a friend of Joe’s.” He spoke in a quiet baritone, his gray eyes never leaving hers. “He told me you were coming so I could open up the house. Our friend Roxie will be over later tonight to make it livable for you. I’m in the house next door, and Roxie’s in the guest house behind mine. Want a tour of the place?”
Somewhere along the line, her heartbeat had almost returned to normal. She found her voice, shaky as it was, and said, “Yes, thank you.”
Quinn stepped aside to allow her to enter. Her gaze flickered between him and the floor as she hurried past, and she was thankful when he didn’t close the front door behind her.
Pausing in the entryway, she turned to face him. “Um, Joe didn’t mention you, but he did mention someone named Conner or Connie... someone he used to work with, I think. Does he... er, she... live nearby as well?”
The stern look on Quinn’s face eased, and the corners of his lips lifted.
Her breath caught, and she blinked. The man’s smile changed him completely. In one second flat, he’d gone from serious-and-a-little-bit-scary to charming-twinkling-eyes-whoa.
She frowned, diverting her attention to her feet. Thelastthing she needed right now was more trouble in her life, and nothing said “trouble” better than a disarming grin. God knew she’d learned that the hard way.
“One and the same. Quinn O’Conner. My annoying friends sometimes call me Connie.” He stuck out his hand, the somber expression back. “And sorry for almost barreling over you a few minutes ago. We weren’t expecting you until tonight.”
“Um, I’m Na—” She stopped, catching herself. Then, stammering, she said, “Alexandra. Alexandra Garcia, but feel free to call me Alex. But yeah... you, uh, knew that already.”
Good god, she wanted to kick herself. When had it become so hard to form a sentence? Mortified, she cleared her throat and pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head, then shook his hand. And froze.
Until she’d touched him, until her hand had completely disappeared in his, she hadn’t realized just how much larger he was. He could easily break her in two if he wanted. And she knew from experience there would be nothing she could do about it. She’d tried to defend herself against Preston... and that obviously hadn’t turned out well.
She startled when Quinn softly squeezed her hand. The gesture pulled her from her ruminations as he let go.
“Can I get your things from your car? Give you a minute to wander around by yourself?” She nodded, and he motioned down the hallway. “The bathroom’s the first door on the right.” A muscle in his jaw clenched, and he didn’t wait for a reply. Just took the keys from her hand and silently walked out.
Once the door shut behind him, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She wandered down the hall and into the bathroom. Glancing at the mirror, she groaned.
Her stomach dropped at the reflection that stared back at her. “Holy crap,” she muttered, resting her hands on the counter. “No wonder he was looking at you like you’re a freak. You should have left the sunglasses on.”
