Chapter 3

3

Desmond

She’s not getting away from me that easily.

My sisters must have sensed my interest in Quinn because they thwarted my mission to get the restaurant critic’s phone number. And if I’m being completely honest, getting her number seems pretty damn mild compared to what I really want from this woman. I’ve had a boulder in my stomach since seeing her up close and personal during the judging round. She’s done something to me. I can’t blink without seeing her face.

I walk through the backstage area, stepping over wires and winding around equipment. One of the producers told me I’d find her in the green room, but when I opened that door, I found the redhead contestant making out with the hockey player. My classy girl was nowhere to be seen and I’m starting to panic.

Come on, Quinn. Where are you?

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a small figure bypass a snoring cameraman and duck out the back door. I don’t see the person’s face, but the elegant way they move tells me it’s Quinn and I stride in that direction, determined to reach her before vanishes into the wilds of Manhattan.

I catch the backstage door before it closes, my long legs making it easy to catch up with her on the sidewalk. She sucks in a breath and halts, blinking up at me—and fuck me, she’s so beautiful, I forget what year it is. A moment later, I manage to recover. “Ah come on, you didn’t think I’d just let you leave, right?”

Her pretty lips open and close, her hand tightening around the strap of her purse. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Wow. Really? I couldn’t have been more obvious about my interest in her without drooling all over my workstation. My dick is solid as a rock right now. I had to untuck my T-shirt so I won’t get arrested for public indecency. Is it possible Quinn doesn’t know how goddamn gorgeous and sweet she is? How does she make it through life without every person she meets telling her? Maybe I should take this slow, so she doesn’t bug out. If she didn’t even notice my attraction to her, she might call 911 if I explain how badly I need her in my bed.

“Uh, yeah.” I clear my throat. “It would be rude not to thank you for voting for me. Can I buy you some gratitude coffee?”

Her smile heats my blood. “Gratitude coffee?”

“It’s the best kind.” I step toward Quinn, wanting to brush a stray hair out of her face, but my sudden closeness steals her smile and she looks like she’s going to hyperventilate. Yeah, I definitely need to take this slow. I’ve even more positive now that she’s as innocent as she looks. She’s worth all the time in the world, though, so I’m going to go as slowly as she needs. “Are you a coffee critic, too, or does the closest Starbucks work for you?”

She pushes up her glasses with a slim index finger. “It’s a little known secret that you can get the best coffee in New York City at your local bodega.”

Fuck, she’s so cute. “Is that right?”

Her nod is solemn.

“Take me to the closest bodega, then.”

She glances back at the studio door. “What about your sisters?”

“I sent them shoe shopping.” So I could be alone with you. “That should occupy them for the next week or so.”

Quinn giggles and I check the urge to adjust myself. God, she’s having a crazy effect on me. I’m not a player or anything, but I’ve dated steadily since I was old enough to drive. Not a single one of the girls I’ve taken out made me this hot. Made me this protective. Made me want to know every single detail about her, down to the minute she was born.

Take it easy. You’re going slow, remember?

Hell, she might not even be interested in me. She might want some upper crust type, right? Some lucky bastard who’ll bring her to the opera and make deals on the golf course.

I realize I’m clenching my fist so tight, my nails have broken the skin on my palms.

If I want to take this slow, I can’t think of her with another man.

The very idea makes me want to drag her into the closest hotel and lay my claim.

“Desmond?” She toes the sidewalk. “Did you change your mind?”

“Hell no, sweetheart.” I take her elbow and steer her away from the studio. “One thing about me is I never change my mind, once it’s made up.”

“Me either.” She nods briskly. “I know exactly what I want as soon as I look at the menu.”

“What about in other areas of your life?”

She looks up at me. “What other areas?”

A knot forms in my chest and I remember what she said during filming. I hide at home…usually…in between appointments. I thought, maybe, this would make me uncomfortable and…

“Never mind, sweetheart,” I say, gruffly. “You know a good bodega in this neighborhood?”

“No,” she says, chewing her lip. “But there’s one every five blocks—” She cuts herself off, beaming at something in the distance. “There’s one.”

I slide my hand up and settle it on her shoulder, making sure all the cars have stopped before guiding her across the street. “Great. I’m buying.”

A few minutes later, we’re standing inside the bodega with our paper cups of doctored coffee in our hands. Quinn seems to be more interested in my reaction than her own drink, however. She leans in a little when I take a sip, holding her breath, eyes wide. “Well? What do you think?”

The hot liquid slides down my throat, the perfect combination of bitter and rich, prompting me to let out a satisfied groan. “I think I’ve been wasting my money.” I examine the cup. “Holy shit, I can’t believe this was a dollar.”

She’s bouncing she’s so excited. “Right? I wish more people knew.”

I sigh dramatically. “I guess it’s only fair I take you to dinner with the money I’m saving.”

Her movements cease. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“Jesus, Quinn. I want to,” I say, laughing.

“Really?” Her brow remains furrowed and I swear to Christ, I almost kiss her then and there, so she’ll realize taking her out will be the furthest thing from a chore for me. Truthfully, I’m kind of pissed off this woman has no idea she’s a ten. No, a twenty.

Who is responsible for this?

Unless…

She’s just playing dumb until I give up, because I’m not her type.

Thinking like that makes my stomach twist.

“Do you date a lot, sweetheart?”

She pauses halfway through a sip, lowering her cup. “No. I haven’t at all, actually.” Pink stains her cheeks and I watch a slow transformation take her over. One second she seems kind of embarrassed, the next she’s squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin. “No guts, no glory,” she mutters to herself. “Actually, Desmond, I was kind of wondering…”

“Yeah?”

“W-well, you’re just so charismatic and confident, you know? Look how you just approached me and suggested coffee. I could never do that. I’d be too worried about saying the wrong thing or getting rejected or being boring if the person said yes. And I just thought…actually, I was thinking earlier…” She closes her eyes and blurts the rest. “What if you could teach me to be more confident like that?”

Oh, sweetheart. How is she not in my arms yet? I’m aching over here. “Quinn, you should be confident. You’re amazing.”

“I…” She rears back a little, surprised. “Thank you, but being confident is easier said than done. Is there no way you’d consider…a lesson?”

“A lesson.”

“You think I’m crazy for suggesting it.”

“I didn’t say that.” A million questions vie for attention in my head, but one stands out more than the others. “You want a lesson from me so you can ask out other men?”

“M-men…” Quinn stutters, unable to meet my eyes. “Well, sure, I think that would be one advantage, don’t you? Being more assertive.” She rolls her lips inward. “Maybe if I feel confident and even”—her voice drops to a whisper—“sexy, that self-assurance will extend to other areas of my life. Making friends and taking risks. Things like that.”

“So the purpose of this lesson with me is to feel sexy?” All right, I’m not hating the sound of this. Although, getting confirmation that she wants to ask out other men is fucking with my head—and my heart—big time. I don’t want those beautiful hazel eyes to look at another man. Ever. But there might be a chance here to prove I can be her one. The only man she ever wants to ask out again. Period. “If I’m going to make you feel sexy, Quinn, that means we’ll be touching. A lot.”

Does her gaze rake over my chest? “It crossed my mind,” she whispers.

Hope swells in my middle—and lower—fattening my cock in my jeans. “You want that? My hands on you?” I drop my head toward hers. “My mouth on you. All over you.”

She swallows. “Yes. I-in the name of education, of course.”

My hope deflates a little. My dick does not. “Right.” I drain my coffee in a few gulps and toss the paper cup in the trash can. “No time to waste. We better start tonight.”

“Tonight?” she squeaks. “How? Where?”

I wink at her. “My place. Queens.”

“Queens?”

My laugh echoes in the bodega. “It’s over the bridge, sweetheart, not on the moon.”

“Yes, but…I don’t have clothes or a toothbrush or—”

“Let’s head to your place first, then.” I put a hand on the small of her back and ease her toward the exit. “Don’t pack a lot of clothes, though. You won’t be needing them.”

“Oh my,” Quinn murmurs, putting a wrist to her forehead. “You’re going to be the first man to…” She stops short. “To be in my apartment.”

“That’s one hell of a euphemism.”

“It wasn’t. My cat is going to have a heart attack.”

“A pussy joke now? You’re on fire.”

Her giggle makes me want to propose marriage, right there on the filthy sidewalk. I hail a cab and help her into the backseat, her hand so perfect in mine. So right. And I know I’ve got one night to make this woman fall for me, the way I’ve fallen for her.

Don’t mess it up.