Susan Mallery - Quinn's Woman

“No. It’s great.”

D.J. studied the light-blue flowers scattered on a white background, the lace at the edge of the collar and the tight, puffy sleeves, while trying desperately not to wince.

“I just don’t understand why you have to dress so…girly.”

Rebecca took another Danish. “We don’t all need to look as if we’d just come from a sale at the army surplus store. Olive green isn’t my color. Besides, Austin likes how I dress.”

End of argument, D.J. told herself. If Austin mentioned he would like the rotation of the earth changed, Rebecca would set out to see what she could do to make that happen. She adored her husband past the point of reason. D.J. found the situation palatable only because Austin was a good man—weren’t those few and far between?—and he loved his wife just as completely. D.J. believed down to her bones that if someone tried to hurt Rebecca, Austin would rip that person into stamp-size pieces.

Rebecca looked her over, making D.J. aware of her camouflage pants and heavy boots.

“You’re expecting a war later?”

“Real funny.” D.J. grabbed a second pastry. “So what’s going on?”

Rebecca filled her in on the latest escapades of her four children, including David’s increasing fascination with cars. “He’s going to be a holy terror on the road,” Rebecca said, her voice mixed with worry and pride. “He’s already poring through Austin’s car magazines and giving us suggestions for his sixteenth birthday.”

The conversation continued. Rebecca made it a habit to drop in two or three mornings a week. D.J. enjoyed hearing about her family. As she didn’t plan to get married, and doubted she would be a very good single mom, Rebecca’s kids were as close to her own as she was going to get.

“I’m having a party next week,” Rebecca announced as she poured them each more coffee.

D.J. held up her hands in protest. “No, thanks.”

“How can you say that?”

“You have two kinds of parties. One is for couples, which means you’re going to set me up with some guy I don’t want to meet. The other is a girls-only deal where someone will be trying to sell something I’ll find completely useless.”

“Cosmetics,” Rebecca confirmed. “And they’re not useless. I know you’re not a big fan of makeup, but you take good care of your skin. This line of skin care is really amazing. Besides, it would be good for you to get out.”

“I get out.”

“I’m talking about spending some time with normal women.”

“I spend time with you.”

Rebecca sighed. “Why can’t you be more social?”

“It’s not my thing.”

“So what is your thing?”

D.J. thought of Quinn. He intrigued her. “There was this guy I met during the war games,” she said.

Rebecca instantly brightened. “Did he ask you out?”

“It wasn’t like that. I captured him, but only because I got lucky. I want him to teach me what he knows.”

“Which is what?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve asked around a little and found out that he works for a secret branch of the military. I’ll bet he knows more about killing people than anyone I’ve met.”

Rebecca shuddered. “Not exactly someone you want to have over for dinner. What’s the guy’s appeal? You don’t kill people. You keep them alive.”

“The more I know, the better.”

Her friend studied her. “You seem very determined. Are you sure this is only about the exchange of knowledge?”

D.J. didn’t bother answering. It was a stupid question. Well, maybe not stupid. There had been that kiss.

She instantly shoved the memory away. The kiss had been nothing, she told herself. Any reaction she’d felt had been brought on by exhaustion or adrenaline or a spider bite.

“Why does your silence sound so guilty?” Rebecca asked.

D.J. did her best not to squirm. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I believe that.” She flicked her long hair over her shoulder and shook her head. “If he’s so special, can’t you just date him? Does every encounter have to be a battle?”

“I asked him to teach me some things, but he wasn’t interested. I even offered to pay him.”

“Not exactly the best way to win him over.”

“I don’t want him to like me.”

“Why not?”

It was an old conversation and one D.J. wasn’t about to start up again. Rebecca had never understood her reluctance to get involved with a man. She didn’t get that caring meant vulnerability. Danger lurked in most relationships. Men were bigger, stronger and, for the most part, meaner. Not all of them, of course, but D.J. wasn’t taking any chances.

“I don’t want a boyfriend, just an instructor,” she said. “Don’t try to change my mind. Just tell me how to convince him to help me out.”

“I will, but under protest. You need a good man in your life.”

D.J. rotated her wrist, motioning for Rebecca to get on with it. Her friend smiled impishly.

“There’s only one way to get a man to do something he doesn’t want to do.”

Finally, D.J. thought. Information she could use. “What’s that?”

“Give him the one thing he really wants and can’t get any other way.”

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