Читать книгу At First Touch - Tamara Sneed - Страница 10

Quinn didn’t like to reward herself with food, but sometimes only the ability to eat anything she wanted could sufficiently reward a woman who normally ate no more than fifteen hundred calories a day. Quinn bit into the oversized cheeseburger she had picked up from another diner outside town, then stuffed several French fries in her mouth. She moaned in pleasure and leaned back against the pillows of the porch swing on the back porch of the house.

She would never admit it, but this was her favorite spot in Sibleyville. Two large trees shadowed the back porch from the overhead sun. There were gentle rolling green hills as far as the eye could see punctuated by little bursts of wildflowers that bloomed in the summer.

This afternoon there was a chill in the air, but the sun shone and the all-encompassing quiet was only interrupted by the occasional shrill of a bird call.

She had changed out of her come-hither clothes into a pair of comfortable, worn jeans and one of Graham’s sweatshirts. As a result, she was warm for the first time since she had driven into Sibleyville last night. And she was actually eating. Real food. She almost felt content; maybe Sibleyville was not exactly the pit of hell she had always pictured. But then again, she was drowning her insides with fat and grease, and a girl was liable to feel anything under that influence.

She chuckled to herself as she remembered Wyatt’s expression in the diner. An hour later and she still got a good laugh out of it. He had been furious. Annoyed. Pushed to the limit. Completely outmatched. By the time Charlie and Graham arrived in town in another few hours, Wyatt would have admitted defeat and Quinn would be packed and ready to return to Los Angeles. Of course, Kendra would not be happy to arrive here and not find Quinn, but Quinn would thank Kendra in her Oscar acceptance speech.

Quinn smiled again, then lifted her wineglass to her imagined enraptured audience. No, she would first thank Wyatt in her Oscar speech. He could fume while he changed all those babies’ diapers he was so looking forward to changing.

“Celebrating something?” came a dry voice.

Quinn screeched in fear at the sight of Wyatt standing in the yard. She screamed again when she realized that she had spilled wine all over her jeans. She jumped to her feet and swiped at her jeans with the towel she had been using as a napkin.

“Damn it, Wyatt. You scared me,” she snapped, annoyed.

She glared at him and was surprised by the sudden shiver that raced through her body. He was gorgeous. All brown skin and denim-clad legs and eyelashes. It was ridiculous to think of a man as simply legs and eyelashes, but she did. And he even wore a tan cowboy hat. And he didn’t look ridiculous in the least.

“Where are the fishnets?” he demanded, walking up the porch stairs to tower over her.

Quinn ignored him and quickly walked into the house to the kitchen. He followed her.

“These jeans cost one hundred and fifty dollars,” she growled as she wet the towel and began to blot the stains. “Not to mention I spilled wine all over my lunch.”

“One pair of jeans and a burger and fries for my future with Dorrie. It’s a good start,” he said flatly.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Your little act in the diner,” he said angrily. “I have to admit, it was a brilliant performance, Quinn.”

She threw the towel in the sink disgustedly, giving up on her jeans and then glared at him. He was much closer than she had realized. And there was that scent again. The Wyatt scent. Her nerves tingled.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she managed.

He laughed in disbelief and sat at the table to lean back and study her. She refused to believe that she was nervous in the least. But she sure felt something akin to nervous. Very nervous.

“I know you think that all Sibleyville natives are hicks, and maybe you’re right. We are. But this hick knew exactly what you were doing when you sauntered into the diner in those fishnets.” He paused in his speech to sputter, outraged, “Fishnets, Quinn? It’s nearly fifty degrees outside. You’re going to catch pneumonia.”

For some reason, she found it amusing and a tad touching that he was so focused on her health. She hid her smile and said, while pretending to stifle a yawn, “You’re really going to have to stop speaking in codes because I have no idea what you’re talking about and I’m getting bored.”

Wyatt’s eyes narrowed and Quinn wondered if she had finally pushed him too far. He stood and moved across the kitchen toward her. Actually, he stalked across the kitchen to her. She took a defensive step back and bumped into a counter. She placed her hands behind her and tried to hold Wyatt’s dark gaze.

“You upset Dorrie today, and you pissed me off with that little show,” he said in a low voice that threatened either ecstasy or hell. “If you think that I’m going to roll over for you because you attempt to throw a little wrench in my budding relationship with Dorrie, then you don’t know me very well. If anything, you’ve made me more resolved than ever to date Dorrie and you also have made me more resolved than ever to make certain that you and your film crew never set foot in my house.”

“That’s not fair,” she squeaked.

“Not fair,” he repeated, in disbelief. “After your performance in the diner, Dorrie and half the town think you and I are sleeping together. By the end of the day, the entire town will think we’re on the verge of getting married. That’s not fair, Quinn. You know that I’m trying to build a life with Dorrie. She walked out on me in the diner and almost walked out on me entirely.”

“Almost?” Quinn repeated, disappointed.

“Yes, almost. I managed to salvage our growing friendship, no thanks to you. But even though she pretended to believe me, there was doubt in her eyes that was not there before.”

“I see I’m not the only one bitten by the drama bug around here. All I did was act a little friendly, Wyatt.”

“Do you really think that I’ll talk my mother into letting you use the house just because you’re threatening to sabotage my relationship with Dorrie?”

“That’s exactly what I think,” she said flatly. He appeared surprised, as if he didn’t expect her to admit it. She smiled. “You know I can do it, Wyatt. One smile. A well-placed hand or, a kiss even, and Dorrie will never talk to you again.”

“Are you threatening me?” he asked in disbelief.

“Whatever you think of me, I am an actress. An extraordinary actress, actually. I can make anybody believe whatever I want, which means I can make this town—including Dorrie—believe that you and I are having a torrid, no-holds-barred affair and that we’re madly in love,” she said simply. “Without any participation from you. And no one will believe your denials because everyone knows how you’ve followed me around like a puppy ever since Graham and Charlie met.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would. I intend to, actually, unless…well, you know what I want,” she said then lifted her left eyebrow in challenge. When he only stared at her, his face a blank mask, she sighed in frustration. “Come on, Wyatt. Why put me through this? Just give me what I want—the house for the film—and I’ll be out of your hair, and you and Dorrie and continue your inevitable march toward white picket fences and dirty diapers.”

He stepped closer until the heat from his body mingled with hers. She suddenly found herself breathing hard. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and she found herself licking her lips.

“You have gone too far, Quinn. This is war.”

“War?” she croaked. She shook her head confused. “I don’t want—”

“War, Quinn. You want a battle. You have a battle.”

She choked out a nervous laugh. “Be reasonable, Wyatt.”

“I’m done being reasonable with you. You don’t understand reasonable. Here are the rules of engagement. One week. One week for you to try whatever you can to turn Dorrie against me. If you succeed, then you’ll have the mortuary for your film because you’d have done me a favor in showing me that Dorrie is not the woman I thought she was. If, on the other hand, Dorrie ignores all of your underhanded attempts, then you’ll never mention that film or my house again.”

“Wyatt, I’m not—”

“Is it a deal or not?” he demanded, moving even closer.

They stared at each other for a moment. Then his gaze subtly dropped. To her breasts. Even though she wore a sweatshirt at least two sizes too big, she felt vulnerable and dainty. It made her instantly more nervous.

She crossed her arms over her breasts, and Wyatt instantly lifted his gaze to hers. He didn’t smile this time. He just watched her. Waiting.

“You’re really confident in Mission—Find a Wife, aren’t you?”

“I’m confident in Dorrie.”

“I watched you two before I walked into the diner. It looked painful. When you’re the big talker at the table, there definitely is trouble.” Her eyes widened as Wyatt leaned even closer and placed his finger on her lips, effectively silencing her.

“Don’t worry about my relationship with Dorrie,” he said quietly, his eyes boring into hers. “You should be worrying about finding your next movie role. Do we have a deal or not?”

She couldn’t resist the grin that spread across her face. “A Sibley always gets what she wants, Wyatt. You’re in over your head.”

She placed her hand in his to shake on the deal. Wyatt laughed, seeming almost as delighted as she was. And there it was. The two were smiling at each other. Enjoying each other, even, with the threat of mutual destruction.

At the same time, they both realized that they were smiling at each other, alone, in the house, holding hands. His hand was large and warm, slightly callused. And even though Quinn felt weird touching Wyatt, it also felt strangely comfortable, as if she had been holding his hand for most of her life.

Time stopped. His smile faded and a strange expression crossed his face, as if he couldn’t quite believe that she was standing there, near him. His lips parted slightly. Quinn thought that Wyatt leaned toward her. She knew that she leaned toward him.

“We’re home!” came an excited cry from the living room.

Wyatt jumped away from Quinn, and Quinn bumped into the counter once more. Charlie walked into the kitchen, looking cute and impossibly sweet, loaded down with brown grocery bags. She set the bags on the counter and grinned when she saw Quinn. She raced across the kitchen to wrap Quinn in a tight embrace that left Quinn gasping for air.

“You’re still here,” Charlie said, excitedly. “I saw your car out front, and I was so excited. We can go pick a Christmas tree.”

Graham walked into the kitchen and appeared to be on the verge of speaking, then just looked from Quinn to Wyatt. Quinn widened her eyes at Graham, silently begging him not to say anything that would draw Charlie’s attention the strange undercurrents in the kitchen.

“And did you hear that Kendra will be here tomorrow?” Charlie practically jumped up and down as she released Quinn. “I don’t think the three of us have been together for Christmas since…I don’t know when. This is going to be so exciting. I have to start baking cookies and making popcorn for the tree—”

“Calm down, baby. We have a few more days until Christmas. You can torture us with Christmas cheer after you’ve had a chance to relax a little,” Graham said with a gentle smile in Charlie’s direction before he pinned Quinn with a hard look and then turned to Wyatt. “Wyatt, nice to see you. What are you doing here? Helping Quinn prepare for our arrival?”

“Wyatt, what a nice surprise,” Charlie exclaimed, walking across the room to throw her arms around him.

Quinn tried not to feel jealous at the sight of her sister touching Wyatt and Wyatt touching her back. Quinn couldn’t hug Wyatt. Quinn frowned when she caught Graham staring at her with a knowing smirk. She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. She had never had a brother before and as brothers went Graham was fine, but he did have the annoying part down.

“It’s nice to see you, too, Charlie,” Wyatt said, smiling. He nodded at Graham then glanced at his watch. “We should all catch up later. I have to…I have to get to something in town. A meeting.”