“You’re good at this.” He chuckled. “You’re better at this than I am.” He stepped close to her and took her hands. His fingers hit diamond. “You found the ring!” he exclaimed. “You’re wearing the ring.”

He traced his thumb down his fiancée’s cheek, across the scar below her chin, and back into her soft, crazy hair. He kissed her, then kissed her harder, amazed all over again at the force of the longing and the love that had overcome him in ten days. The way she responded had him wondering how soon he could possibly do her.

He broke the kiss reluctantly at the wail of sirens. “I forgot about Owen’s stitches.”

Sarah squeezed his hand. “I’d better go help Rachel and the art school girls. It’s going to be another long night.”

“Whatever time we get through, meet me back at Owen’s big-ass truck,” Quentin told her. “We’re not sleeping. Not tonight.”

18

I accept your resignation. Archie is not going to like this after the Nationally Televised Holiday Concert Debacle. I hear online sales for the Cheatin’ Hearts AND Nine Lives are through the roof already, and Manhattan Music is going to be upset that Stargazer let you get away. But working for the Cheatin’ Hearts will be a good fit for you, if you know what I mean. Tell your green-eyed hick-hunk—Well, never mind. You don’t have to tell him anything. Now that things are settling down with the baby, I have some work at home to keep me busy. If you know what I mean. ;)

Wendy Mann

Senior Consultant

Stargazer Public Relations

Vulcan’s butt glowed majestically in the orange light of sunrise. Sarah would have thought any view was picturesque from a blanket in the back of Owen’s truck, with Quentin’s arms wrapped protectively around her. Even the trash littering the empty park looked quaint. The police had finally given up and gone home. She and Quentin had the park, the trash, the sunrise, and Vulcan’s butt all to themselves.

She told him what her evening had been like. After a few moments of peaceful silence, Quentin let her go and slid to the side of the truck bed.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“To kill Nine Lives.” His eyes were black.

“Quentin.” She reached over and put a hand on his arm.

“I’ve worked at the hospital for years, and I’ve picked up a few tricks. I can kill him in such a way that no one would ever know he was murdered.”

“Someone would see you go into his hospital room,” she reasoned.

“The folks at the hospital would cover for me.”

She sighed. She understood what Erin meant about arguing with him. “We think we’ve thrown the police off Martin’s scent, but if Martin were to get in trouble, he’d be in a lot more trouble if Nine Lives died. I’ve had enough drama for one day. I only told you what happened because I want us to be honest with each other from now on. I didn’t expect you to go kill him. I’ve got him covered. It’s okay for you to delegate some of the responsibility of manipulating people. It’s okay to ask for help.”

He grimaced and rotated his neck. Sarah heard a pop. “I’m in caveman mode,” he told her.

“I know!”

“It’s just that Martin kept telling me Nine Lives would come after you, and I wasn’t there for you.”

“Yes you were,” she said. “That’s what you have friends for. You have Martin’s back. Martin has yours. And mine.”

“Right. You’re right.” Quentin relaxed a little.

She scooted across the blanket and pressed herself against him until he hugged her. He put his hand protectively over the bandage that covered the hole Nine Lives had gouged in her arm with the needle.

She kissed his hand. “There’s the Quentin I’ve just met. A respiratory therapist who’s been admitted to med school. A brilliant, eloquent, sensitive man, everything I want. And then there’s the Quentin I’ve dealt with for ten days, who breaks the law for fun and profit, chases skirts, manipulates his friends, uses double negatives, and threatens to murder people.”

He laughed.

“Not that I’m any better,” she said. “The real Sarah is a meek athlete with a closet full of sweatpants. Then there’s the persona I call Natsuko, modeled after this badass publicist I saw at the Grammys last year. She’s never afraid to do what she likes and take what she wants. If we’re going to have a relationship, there isn’t room in this truck bed for all four of us.”

He wrapped both arms around her waist and squeezed. “All right. I’ll suppress Mad Dog Quentin, for now. I’m not promising I won’t call him back up if I need him.”

“You won’t need him with me.”

“Which Sarah do I get?”

She smiled up at him. “Which one do you want?”

“I want them both. And I’m not sure Sarah and this other persona are clearly differentiated. I saw Sarah from the beginning. And I saw that she had a little bit of Nat-whatever running through her. I ain’t choosing.”

She raised one eyebrow at him.

“I’m not choosing,” he corrected himself, laughing. “I’m sorry. I’m so used to doing the burly hick act around you.” He fingered strands of her hair and flipped them this way and that, lovingly experimenting.

“But, Sarah,” he said. “And this is gainfully employed Quentin talking now. I know you may have some dealings with Stargazer and Manhattan Music and Nine Lives for a few more weeks while you’re wrapping things up with your old job. But you need to do that with Nine Lives’ manager, over the phone. If Nine Lives ever comes within a mile of you, I will do my best to kill him.”

She glanced up at Quentin again. His eyes looked like murder. She put her hands into his curls and tugged. “Would you come back from the Dark Side?”

He laughed his musical laugh again. They settled more comfortably on the blanket and gazed up at the glowing statue.

“So, Dr. Cox.” She sighed happily.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “I see a future for me as the lead singer of a country band called the Cheatin’ Hearts. But I want to spend more time on philanthropy from now on, particularly for the foundation in New York. I’m moving in with you. I’d like to experience the Big Apple for a while. You can manage the band from there. And I’m bringing my big-ass truck with me. Of course, I’ll have to come out of the asthma and allergy closet, like you suggested.”

“Martin’s real addiction more than makes up for your fake addiction.”

He laughed shortly. “I’m not sure how much longer the Cheatin’ Hearts Death Watch will last. The newspaper may decide we’re going to live after all.”

“They may.” She rubbed her hand on his thigh.

He put his hand over her hand. “I can work with the foundation and stay with the band. The four of us talked about it yesterday. We’re taking a year off touring, to let Martin get clean and repair whatever’s left of his relationship with Rachel.”

“I think there’s a lot left of his relationship with Rachel,” Sarah said thoughtfully.

Quentin went on, “And to let Owen and Erin have their baby.” He cleared his throat. “When are we going to have our baby?” He moved his warm hand under her shirt, on her belly.

She relaxed into him. “I’m not in such a hurry anymore. Give me a few years to get over Wendy’s baby.”

“Deal.” He kissed her forehead. “Listen, we need to get the hell out of Dodge today, away from the reporters. Where do you want to spend a month?”

The gorgeous beaches of Thailand flashed across her mind, but she wasn’t sure she could ever make that joke to Quentin. “How do you feel about Greece?” she suggested.

“I liked Greece, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. Ever since we faked Owen getting shot in Crete, we’ve had a rabid fan base in Greece.” He twisted her hair around his finger. “How about Hawaii?”

“Don’t you think it’s awfully hot in Hawaii at this time of year?”

“Can’t be any hotter than here.”

“True,” she said. “I could suffer through four weeks in Hawaii. With you.” She grinned up at him. “This is so cool! Especially after yesterday. I had a really bad day yesterday. I guess things have a way of working themselves out, as long as you’re not engineering a fist-fight.”

“And sometimes when you are,” he said, bending to kiss her mouth.

And then he broke Rule Three.