Urgent Vows. Joyce Sullivan
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not there,” Hope said, hearing the tinkling of toy piano keys. “He’s in the playroom—the big room right off the kitchen.”
She paused a second to kick off her pumps and rooted through the toy-crowded closet for a pair of the knitted slippers she kept for guests. Her regular slippers were packed in her suitcase and there was no time to unpack them.
She’d just eased her cold, pinched toes into the second slipper when a deep groan reached her ears from the playroom.
“Oh, buddy!”
Hope padded down the hall into the kitchen. When she saw the naked toddler and the suspicious network of puddles that streaked her kitchen floor like the canals of Venice, she sternly told herself that things could be a lot worse. She could be spending her wedding night with a man who didn’t want to be married to her.
KYLE HOWLED bloody murder when Quinn hauled him off to the bathroom to clean him up. Quinn gritted his teeth as he taped a diaper in place and tried to snap Kyle’s outfit around the toddler’s thrashing legs. Hope’s tidy bathroom looked as if a brigade of firemen had bathed in it. Kyle had splashed water all over the floor and smeared soap on the mirror when Quinn had tried to give him a quick bath in the sink. Fresh talons of guilt sunk unrelentingly into Quinn’s stomach. Every passing second he spent with Kyle and Melanie demonstrated how totally incapable he was of taking care of them properly.
What would he do if Hope said no?
Her attempt to close the door in his face pretty much expressed her current opinion of him. Somehow he had to change that.
Leaving a couple of the snaps undone, Quinn carried Kyle back into the kitchen and set him down. Hope had already finished cleaning the floor and was opening a tin of apple juice at the counter while she offered Mel fashion advice on the dress-up clothes his niece was pulling out of a wicker trunk. Kyle made a beeline for a pile of blocks.
As if she sensed his entrance, Hope turned toward him, her mouth set in a thin, tight line, her eyes misty and golden…and full of questions.
And Quinn felt the full jabbing thrust of the intense physical attraction he’d once had for her all over again. She hadn’t changed much in ten years, he thought, taking in the wild disarray of her dark brown hair streaming over her bare shoulders. She’d removed the jacket of her suit and wore a Rugrats apron over a silky, lace-trimmed camisole top. Her short pink skirt showed off her great legs and the nicely rounded curve of her hips. All that smooth white skin and lace reminded Quinn of a delectable iced cake on a tea tray. Pure, irresistible sweetness.
Her pointed chin and the delicate joy lines fanning those golden eyes and dimpling the corners of her mouth, still made him think she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Maybe because his scrutiny was so intense, he noticed the lone white flower clinging to her hair like a snowflake—which reminded him that she’d had flowers in her hair when she’d come to the door. Had she had a date earlier tonight? Quinn frowned. Tom Parrish hadn’t mentioned a current boyfriend, the existence of which might put a serious wrench in his plans.
“I’m preparing apple juice and graham crackers for the children,” she said, putting an end to the uncomfortable silence that stretched between them. “Do they have any food allergies?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” Quinn clenched his fists, feeling awkward as she set the snack on a kid-size picnic table and told Kyle and Melanie they could eat only at the table. What if Hope had a boyfriend? How could he ask her to sacrifice her personal happiness when that had been his excuse for abruptly severing their engagement? He felt like a hypocrite. He shouldn’t have come. He never would have thought of seeking her out if Tom hadn’t brought up her name. “I’m really sorry to put you to all this trouble.”
“It’s no trouble. My plans for the evening kind of fell through anyway.” Something about her tone of voice told him she was telling him a half truth, but she folded her arms across her chest and changed the subject—to the heart of the matter—with her usual directness. “So, what brings you to my doorstep at nine-thirty at night? You mentioned my brother-in-law sent you?”
Quinn nodded and gestured toward the hallway. “Maybe we could discuss this out of hearing range of the children? I don’t know how much they understand, but they’ve suffered enough trauma in the last thirty-six hours. I don’t want to upset them further.”
“Of course.” Hope was almost afraid to listen. She couldn’t imagine Quentin McClure being dead. Hope had always referred to him as Quinn’s better half—the younger-by-fourteen minutes, brainy, mild-natured twin. His death had obviously rocked Quinn hard. Quinn’s lean, muscled body quivered with tightly reined emotion as they stepped into the hall. It took all her willpower to hold back the urge to touch him. She’d already agreed to listen to him and had let him into her home. Had even let herself look at him again. Not touching him was her last remaining defense to his unexpected invasion. Somehow she felt that if she didn’t cross that line, she could survive this encounter with her heart still intact. “What happened to Quent?” she asked softly.
A muscle throbbed in his cheek. “He and his wife Carrie were found shot to death in their home yesterday morning. It was a professional hit, only the hit man mistook Quent for me.”
“Oh my God!”
Hope pressed her hand to her mouth, trying to hold back the nausea that churned in her stomach and clawed up her throat. Her gaze flew instinctively to Kyle and Melanie, who were dribbling cracker crumbs all over the picnic table. Those poor babies! To lose both their parents like that…. A drop of moisture dripped off her chin and she realized she was crying at the senseless injustice of a family being destroyed and children being orphaned…and Quinn walking around with a price on his head and the guilt of his brother and sister-in-law’s deaths on his soul.
Quinn.
She flinched as her eyes met the cold bleakness of his gaze. His emotional overload of pain, anger and guilt forcefully struck her like a whiplash to the chest, the whipcord splitting her ribs and curling securely around her heart. Hope swayed and reached out to him, her fingers seeking the iron band of his wrist. A hundred questions formed in her mind. But only one seemed important. “What can I do to help?”
“Marry me.”
Chapter Two
Hope snatched her fingers from Quinn’s arm and stared up at him open-mouthed, not certain she could believe her ears. It was too ludicrous that she could be dumped at the altar by one man and proposed to by another—especially Quinn!—all on the same day, but Quinn’s expression was deadly serious.
“I— I beg your pardon?” she whispered.
“You can marry me. Quent and Carrie named me the children’s legal guardian in their wills. But if a contract is out on my head, I don’t stand much of a chance of being able to fulfill their wishes. I’m a dead man, Hope. I can’t hide out with these kids forever. Every day I stay with them I put them in danger.” He ran a hand over his haggard face. “The very least I can do for Kyle and Melanie is give them a real mother to take care of them if something happens to me.”
She blinked, completely overwhelmed by what he was implying. She didn’t bother to conceal her sarcasm. “That’s why you came here? You want to marry me just like that to give the kids a mother?”
“Yes.” Quinn’s hard, slate gaze held hers and seemed to etch a path into her innermost secret thoughts. As if he knew the hold he’d had over her heart.
Hope wanted to slap him for his audacity, even as she found a kernel of comfort in the knowledge that she was the one he’d come to in his hour of need.
“Surely you don’t have to resort to such a drastic measure,” she said stiffly. “The RCMP must be investigating, they’ll find whoever—”
He cut her off. “I’m not with the RCMP anymore. The Ottawa-Carleton Regional Police are handling the investigation.”
Now