The Law and Ginny Marlow Page 5

  Color rose to her cheeks. “No, I just didn’t think of you as having parents, let alone nice ones, that’s all.”

  There was something about the way she said “nice ones” that gave him an inkling of what had been in her past. To spare her, he allowed the focus to remain on him. “Doesn’t go with the cloven hoof?”

  Arched brows drew together. “What?”

  “Well, you have to admit that you kept acting as if you thought I was the devil himself when you first walked into the office.”

  That was because she thought he was. Now, she wasn’t a hundred percent sure. The devil wouldn’t bring her to his parents’ home. Relenting, Ginny was willing to admit that maybe she had come on a little too strong. But she’d had reasons.

  “I was just worried about Jenny, and I didn’t know what to think when I heard that she’d been thrown in jail.” She sighed, wishing she had the answers. If not all, at least a few. “She’s just a young girl.”

  The concern was genuine, Quint thought. It wasn’t hard to see that. That gave them something in common. He’d been worried about his siblings a time or two.

  “A troubled young girl.”

  For a second, she’d forgotten that he was a complete stranger. She wasn’t in the habit of sharing personal matters with strangers. Not even good-looking ones.

  Ginny straightened her shoulders, as if bracing for a confrontation. “That isn’t any of your concern.”

  He had a different opinion. “It is if she brings her trouble into my town.”

  His town. Maybe her first impression of him wasn’t that far off after all. “Now you sound like some modern-day Wyatt Earp.”

  He was far from insulted. As a kid, he’d eaten up stories of the Old West. True stories. “Old Wyatt had his virtues. He kept a peaceful town while he wore a badge. That’s all I’m after.”

  It didn’t take much to envision him with double holsters strapped to his thighs, slowly making his way down the main street, facing down some desperado. Ginny blotted the image from her mind. She couldn’t afford to let herself get carried away.

  “And you plan to keep it safe by throwing hardened criminals like my sister in jail.”

  “And you,” Quint couldn’t help teasing. “Don’t forget you.”

  All traces of freshly budding camaraderie vanished. “Are you laughing at me?”

  His answer surprised her. She expected him to be evasive. Or lie. He didn’t.

  “Yes. You’re taking yourself far too seriously, Ginny.” Giving in to impulse, he tested the softness of one of the curls that rioted about her face and shoulders. “The world’s not going to stop if you crack a smile once in a while and learn how to kick back. Might do you a whole lot of good, actually.”

  She jerked her head back out of his reach and felt her hair pulled for her trouble before Quint could release the strand.

  “If I wanted advice on how to live my life, you wouldn’t be the person I’d go to.”

  He wondered if she sought help from some expensive shrink and then decided that she probably wasn’t the type. Out here, they had mountains for that. Being out in God’s country cleared a man’s mind and put his soul in order faster than any expensive psychiatrist.

  “Now there, Ginny, you might find that you’re missing out.”

  Neither one realized Zoe had come to fetch them until they heard her huge sigh. They turned almost in unison.

  “Are you two going to keep swiping at each other, or are you going to come into the dining room and sit down to dinner like civilized people?”

  The dining room was a few short steps away. Quint took them, escorting Ginny by what he guessed was against her will.

  “Well, since I have a choice, I’ll pick the latter.” Quint pulled a chair out for Ginny. “You’re a saint, Dad,” he declared as his father and Carly, both embracing bottles against their chests, walked into the room. Quint took a bottle of beer for himself and an additional one for Ginny.

  “His sainthood is debatable,” Zoe informed her son, humor playing along the outline of her lips. “But he is a handy man to have around. Now, before this casserole becomes completely inedible, let’s all sit down and have dinner, shall we?” She looked to her right. “Geneva, if it’s not too much of a hardship for you, take the seat next to Quint. Jennifer,” she addressed the girl on her right, “you come sit by me.”

  Jenny did as she was told. Taking her seat, she looked up at the older woman.

  “It’s Jenny,” Jenny told her quietly. Her eyes remained on the napkin she was spreading on her lap.

  “I always liked the name Jenny.” Zoe passed the mashed potatoes to her left. “That was going to be Quint’s name if he’d turned out to be a girl.”

  This was the first Quint had heard of it, but he let it go. He figured his mother had her reasons for coming through with this bit of history.

  The information begged for a comment, but Ginny said nothing. She’d barely heard the exchange. She was too busy staring at her sister. It seemed to be almost a miracle. The glazed look of hostility that she’d become so accustomed to had all but faded from Jenny’s young face.

  4

  Pushing away from the dining table, Jake leaned back in his seat, a contented smile on his face.

  “One of your best meals, Zoe.” There wasn’t so much as a trace of the casserole left on his plate. “Hard to believe that was actually healthy for me.” He looked around at the faces of the others sitting at his table. “What that woman can do with food is nothing short of a miracle.”

  Unabashed pride echoed in his voice. It was no secret that he credited his wife with bringing him back to the living after the minor heart attack he’d suffered five years ago. She’d gone out of her way to make sure that the quality of his life only improved, despite the gastronomic restrictions he now adhered to.

  Zoe rose from her chair and winked at Jenny. “See? You train them right from the very beginning and then all they need is a little fine-tuning from time to time.”

  The warm smile the older woman gave her husband told Ginny that what was really fine-tuned here was the relationship between the pair. Envy tugged at her heart again, not just because she envied Quint for the life he must have had, growing up in a warm, loving environment, but because she envied Jake and Zoe for the comfortable happiness they so obviously shared, something she knew had to be very, very rare.

  Something she didn’t have a prayer of finding. Especially since she wasn’t even looking. The hunt was not for her. Not with so many men out there who were like Luke, the man who had temporarily been her stepfather during years she wanted to forget.

  Zoe saw the indecision on Jenny’s face. The girl needed a little help making an offer. “So, Jenny, are you up for helping an old lady with the dishes?”

  Quint hooted at the term. He knew almost better than anyone that nothing kept his mother down. She always had more energy than any of them, except for maybe Morgan and in that case, it was a tie.

  “The day you become an old lady is the day the world’ll end,” Quint told his mother. His reward was the smug smile that creased her lips.

  Jake laughed under his breath. “You certainly didn’t act like an old lady last night.”

  Color, as bright as the blush on a red rose, swiftly made a trail up Zoe’s neck to her cheeks. She shot him a look that wasn’t altogether reproving.

  “Hush, old man, we’ve got company present.”

  Accustomed to their exchanges, Carly got up, reaching for the emptied casserole dish. “I’ll help you clear the table, Aunt Zoe.”

  But Zoe shook her head. She had plans that didn’t include her affable nephew. At least for now. “Thank you, Carly, but I thought I might like a little female companionship tonight. Exclusively.” She deliberately shifted her gaze to Jenny.

  Jenny shrugged, but to Ginny’s eye, the gesture didn’t look quite as indifferent as it usually was. “Sure. Why not?”

  Feeling awkward by the attention momentarily focused on
her, Jenny rose. Mimicking Zoe, she began gathering dishes together.

  Taking her cue from the other women, Ginny rose and followed suit. It would do her good to try and move around. She’d eaten far more than she’d intended to, but it had all been so good, from the fresh salad right on through to the peach cobbler dessert. She was surprised that the button on her skirt wasn’t straining to pop.

  “No, not you, dear.” Zoe placed a hand over Ginny’s to stop her. “There’s such a thing as too many hands in the kitchen.”

  “Ha! That’s not what you used to say.” Quint knew his mother very well and figured he knew what she was up to, but he couldn’t resist teasing her anyway.

  Zoe tossed her still very blond hair, and sniffed. “A woman’s allowed to change her mind. There is something I would like you to do, Geneva.”

  “Anything.” Her own response surprised her. Normally, she would have asked a suspicious “what?” instead. But there was something imminently trustworthy about the couple that made her feel more at ease than she had in an extremely long time.

  “Why don’t you go and air out my son?” Zoe waved a hand toward the front door. “His mind seems to be a little foggy tonight.”

  If she didn’t know better, she would have said she was being set up. Ginny felt instantly ashamed of herself. These people were too kind and too genial to be considered conniving. It was only that every aspect of her life had been fraught with deception, usually on the parts of people she’d allowed herself to trust.

  Like her parents. Like the sheriff in the town she’d come from. The man she’d turned to in her distress, only to discover that he was the worst threat of all.

  Quint took her elbow, directing her toward the front and the porch that ran outside. “Looks like we’ve all been given our assignments for now.”

  Ginny glanced over her shoulder, but Zoe had already disappeared into the kitchen with Jenny in tow. “She runs everybody?”

  He noticed that the question was mildly asked. Her attitude was softening, just as he figured it would. Being around his parents always seemed to bring out the best in people.

  Quint nodded in reply, opening the door for her. “Like the queen that she is.”

  As he closed the door behind him, Quint noted that Carly remained at the table with his father. The two men were each nursing a third bottle of beer. Looked like Carly was staying the night, he mused. Wouldn’t be the first time.

  Ginny took a deep breath. The air smelled different out here. Clearer, richer. Better.

  If she hadn’t known better, she would have said that some of the knots in her shoulders were loosening. Leaning against the railing, she looked at Quint. Was all this calculated on his part, or were things just as they seemed?

  “Your mother’s quite a lady.”

  The grin was just slightly lopsided. “You’ll get no argument from me on that.”

  She picked up on the key word that covered her life. “What will I get an argument from you on?”

  She was far too pretty a woman to constantly be spoiling for a fight, Quint thought. He had an urge to comb the riot of chocolate-colored hair away from her face. An urge to kiss her neck and see if it tasted as sweet, as inviting as it looked.

  Quint leaned his elbows and back against the railing, his eyes trained on her. “Who says we have to argue?”

  He made it sound like something new, Ginny thought, instead of the ongoing event since she’d first laid eyes on his sexy broad face. “We’ve been doing a pretty good job of it so far. And you did throw my sister and me into prison.”

  “A jail cell,” he corrected. “Prison’s pretty much of a different matter.” A gleam entered his eyes. “As you well know, Counselor. And there was no throwing involved,” he reminded her. “Just ushering.”

  A bit of admiration coaxed a hint of a smile from her. He certainly wasn’t as simpleminded as she’d first thought. “You tap-dance well.”

  Quint knew what she meant and took no offense. “I’ve had lessons.”

  She laughed softly. He probably had a great deal of practice, getting his stories straight with all the women whose hearts he broke growing up. Was it the same now? Was he juggling two women while seeing a third? Her father had been that way until he’d finally left once and for all.

  “I bet you have.” Then, because she’d always been truthful, she added, “You’re not at all what I thought you were.”

  Quint cocked his head, searching her face. He found he couldn’t quite read her expression. “Is that a compliment, or should I be reaching for armor?”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him what he thought, but that would seem flirtatious somehow. Flirting had never been her style. Just shooting straight from the hip, that was how she operated. That meant the truth—every time.

  “I thought you were out to milk us for money. Just a fancy speed trap.”

  Despite the moonlight, the night made her hair look darker. Almost black. He wanted to touch it to examine the color.

  “No, no need for that,” he said easily. “Serendipity’s doing just fine the way it is.”

  He almost reached out and touched her. What stopped him was the wary spark he saw entering her eyes, warning him off. Was that because she still didn’t trust him, or was that because something else had frightened her, making her leery?

  “You always been this suspicious of everyone, or is that something that just develops after passing the bar exam?”

  He was being flippant, but she didn’t feel like being flippant back. At least, not all the way. “That’s something that comes from life.”

  The life he’d had had taught him to be patient with people and wait them out until the best emerged. So far, he hadn’t been disappointed. He had a hunch that their lives had followed very, very different paths. “Not always.”

  “All right,” she snapped without meaning to, “my life.”

  Surprised he’d gotten her this far, Quint pushed the envelope a little further. “Tell me about your life, Geneva.”

  Ginny was on her guard instantly. What was he trying to get on her? “Why?”

  He shrugged, wondering if he’d hit a sensitive nerve, or if she was trying to hide something. “Because I want to know.”

  That wasn’t good enough. “Again—why?”

  Quint spoke as if he were attempting to approach a pony that had been mistreated. Despite her fancy clothes and her pricey shoes, he was beginning to think that at bottom, that was what he was dealing with. Someone who had suffered some kind of abuse, be it physical or mental.

  “Does there have to be more of a reason for it than that?”

  Just because she’d eaten at his parents’ table, did he think she was too grateful to push for explanations? Ginny thought. “For me. Things don’t happen without reasons, that includes having questions occur to you.”

  The lady was definitely guilty of overanalyzing, no doubt an offshoot of her chosen profession. “Maybe the reason is just pure curiosity. Maybe I think you need to talk, not just to your sister, but to somebody. Before you explode.”

  Was it her imagination, or had he somehow moved closer to her in the past few minutes? Ginny wondered. It felt as if he was much too close.

  “I’m not about to explode,” she insisted heatedly.

  The force of her answer made Quint’s case. “Yeah, you are. If ever I met anyone who seemed ready to explode, it’s you.” If it were anyone else, he’d already be massaging the rigidness right out of her shoulders, but he knew she’d suspect an ulterior motive. “Lady, I’d say they could name the next volcano after you—and it wouldn’t do you justice.”

  The hell with her suspicions, Quint couldn’t just stand here, looking at her mimic a military-school cadet. In one movement, because he caught her by surprise, he came up behind her and began massaging her shoulders.

  “Person keeps things inside for just so long and then one day they all come busting out, taking pieces of you with it.”

  Shrugging him
off didn’t seem to have any effect, Ginny realized. “And you wouldn’t want to see that happen.”

  “Nope.”

  She tried to turn around, but he wouldn’t allow it. And the magic his fingers were weaving was erasing some of the rigidity she’d been feeling.

  “Why?” Ginny demanded, though not with as much force as she would have liked.

  She felt a great deal more delicate than she looked and sounded, Quint realized as he continued massaging. “Might be a tad messy to clean up, and this is my town. You walked into it, that makes you my responsibility.”

  God, this was heaven. It was all Ginny could do to keep her mind on the conversation. “And when I walk out of your town?”

  “You’re on your own again.” He paused, then turned her around to face him. “If you want to be.”

  She could feel her heart jumping in her throat. For sanity’s sake, she took a step backward, away from him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Quint figured that was rather self-explanatory, but in her case, maybe not. “Friends can pick up phones anywhere and talk to friends.”

  “And you want to be my friend?” For a moment back there, Ginny almost let herself get sucked in, but the night air had cleared her brain. No one makes friends in the spate of a few hours, especially when there was a jail cell involved.

  Just like no one could fall in love in that amount of time—no matter how pleasing the man was to look at or seemed. She knew just how damn deceptive appearances could be.

  Quint heard the sarcastic edge in her voice and chose to ignore it.

  “Why not?” When she said nothing, he moved a little farther into her life by asking, “How long have you been taking care of your sister?”

  She hadn’t really come right out and said she was taking care of Jenny. “Does it show?”

  “You came after her, that’s taking care in my book. Your parents alive?” He waited for her to tell him it was none of his business.

  Instead, she shook her head.

  “Eight,” she finally said. He looked at her, looking slightly puzzled when she finally answered his first question. “I’ve been her legal guardian for eight years.”