His Forgotten Colton Fiancée. Bonnie Vanak
he investigated, he’d be late. West swept his gaze over the building’s exterior as he squinted in the dark. Heart racing from the run, he looked again at Rex.
Still sitting. Still alert.
That was it. West reached for his gun tucked into a leather holster at his side and prepared to go closer.
A flash of movement in the darkness. He tensed as something rattled inside the building.
A scrawny black-and-white tabby cat squeezed underneath one of the boards on the window, looked at them. It hissed at Rex, and then sped off in the direction of town.
Still, it was best to check it out. West did a quick patrol around the building, saw and heard nothing. He glanced down at Rex, who whined, his tail beating the dirt.
“A cat.” West shook his head. “All that drama for a stray feline? C’mon, buddy. You disappoint me.”
Tongue lolling out, Rex grinned at him.
Sighing, West patted his head. “Let’s go.”
They jogged back to the main road as a cool wind blew, rattling the shutters of the abandoned building.
When he reached Quinn’s apartment above her store, he let himself in with his key. West poured Rex a bowl of fresh water and grabbed a bottle from the fridge, drinking deeply. The clock on the range read 5 a.m. If he hurried and showered here, he could make it to his truck, parked discreetly down the street, and drive out of town before Quinn’s assistant showed up to open shop.
Leaving Rex in the kitchen on the pillow Quinn placed there for him, West headed into the bathroom.
Steam misted the air as he emerged minutes later, a white towel wrapped around his waist. He padded to the bedside and stared down at a slumbering Quinn.
He was one lucky bastard. After thirty years, thinking he’d remain a bachelor for the rest of his life, he’d found the woman of his dreams. Last night he’d asked her to marry him, and she’d readily accepted.
West removed a single red rose from the crystal vase by the bedside. Last night he’d given her two dozen red roses to proclaim his feelings.
It was all so new and marvelous. And uncertain and out of character. He wasn’t impulsive. All he knew was that he adored Quinn, wanted to make her happy for the rest of her life and needed her like he’d never admit to needing anyone.
Not since his entire family had been killed had he allowed himself to be this open, this intimate with another person. He’d proposed because he was getting older and so was Quinn. He couldn’t bear for her to get snatched up by another man. He’d already lost too much in life, and wanted to spend each precious moment with her.
He only wished she didn’t want children so badly. Getting married to the woman of his dreams was one thing. Having kids was another. Being responsible to protect one life—Quinn’s—yeah, he could handle that. But making sure nothing bad would ever happen to children? After what had happened to his sisters, he had quietly vowed to avoid having children and risking that kind of heartache ever again.
He sat on the bed’s edge, gazing at his new fiancée, his heart racing with anticipation. Damn, she was so pretty when she slept. Even prettier when she awakened and gave him that sexy smile filled with promise, her brown eyes smudged with sleep and hard loving. West bent over and inhaled the smell of her: apple shampoo, delicate jasmine and the musk of sex.
Life was filled with the ugliness and violence of his job. Quinn made the brutality bearable, and eased the stress he bore. Coming home to her each day was definitely something he anticipated. Quinn made him laugh, lit up his life with her cheerful smile and saucy attitude. She was an eternal optimist who didn’t let anything get her down.
Not even me.
West stroked the rose petals over her freckled cheek and she stirred. He set the rose upon the pillow next to her.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he whispered as she slowly opened her eyes and smiled up at him. She ran a hand through her rumpled curls.
Quinn took the rose and inhaled the delicate fragrance. “A flower on my pillow. What a lovely way to wake up. But not as nice as waking up to see my handsome man.”
“You deserve a dozen fresh roses every day.” He took the flower and tapped her forehead with it. And more. Everything I could give you. I only wish I could give you the one thing we can’t have now—no more secrets.
As he replaced the rose in the vase, she sat up.
“You up to kissing speed yet?” he teased.
Quinn smiled. “Anytime with you, I am.”
She cupped his face, her fingers stroking his cheek. “You shaved off your beard.”
West rubbed his cheek against her playful caresses. “Makes it easier to get close to you, in all the right places.”
A delicate flush ignited her round cheeks at the intimate hint in his voice. “I like it. Did you have a good run?”
“Not as good as staying here. But I had to get away from you and think. When I’m here—” he traced the edges of her lush lower lip “—I tend to get distracted from my work.”
“What were you thinking about?” She yawned and stretched.
He admired how the motion lifted her breasts beneath the flannel T-shirt. “You.” West reached out and tugged one of her corkscrew curls. It bounced back. “And triacetone triperoxide.”
Quinn’s forehead wrinkled. “What? It sounds like something my father would take for a hangover.”
He laughed. “It’s a bomb, sweetheart. TATP. Favored by terrorists. They call it Mother of Satan because it’s so volatile to make and you risk blowing yourself up.”
“I can give you something much nicer to think about.” Her smile widened as she crooked a finger at him.
Forget the Mother of Satan. Here was pure heaven. Guilt flickered through him. Quinn didn’t know his real purpose in coming to Red Ridge—to find Demi Colton, the main suspect in the Groom Killer case, who’d fled town months ago right after being initially questioned. Or that he’d been assigned to investigate Quinn and her half brothers to see if they knew where their half sister, Demi, was hiding.
I’ll tell her. Soon.
And then her mouth met his and he forgot about all else.
* * *
Food costs and sex.
Quinn Colton tried hard, and failed, to keep the smile off her face as she bounced down the stairs leading to Good Eats, her catering shop. Sex with West was always fantastic, but this morning added a special, delicious urgency to their lovemaking. Certainly the sex was better than the inventory waiting for her downstairs, along with the stacks of bills for the latest restaurant order.
Thirty years old and in love. Never thought this would happen. Certainly not a whirlwind romance and a lifelong pledge in only three weeks. But her heart knew that West was the one meant for her. They were made for each other.
Quiet and strong, and handsome and rugged as a movie star. Her heart thumped a little bit harder each time he was around.
It hadn’t been love at first sight. More like love at first fight, she thought as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Quinn unlocked the door—her private entrance into the shop—and then locked it behind her. The door opened to her storage area. She skirted two heavy sacks of whole-grain flour and frowned at the mess on the floor. Last week she’d reluctantly laid off Jeb Plimpton, the teenager who swept up and kept her store tidy. More things on her to-do list, when right now all she could think about was adding West to the list, permanently.
West was a muscular, intimidating guy who scowled. Except around her. From the moment the tall, black-haired man with the chocolate-brown eyes