The Mighty Quinns: Dylan. Kate Hoffmann
tweaking her jealousy until she’d be forced to stand up and show herself. Grudgingly, she stood up, then brushed her hair from her eyes. Dylan, who was now leaning over the counter, stepped back in surprise. “Meggie!”
She forced a smile. “I’m sorry, I was just…there was a thing I was…I had my head in the cooler and didn’t hear you come in.” She cleared her throat. “I’m afraid we’re not open for business yet,” she said, smoothing her hands over her jeans.
“The poor man has been fighting fires all day long. We could at least offer him something,” Lana said.
Meggie crossed her arms beneath her breasts and watched Dylan warily. He’d changed out of his firefighting gear and now wore faded jeans, a T-shirt and a leather jacket, but he looked as rakish as ever. His hair, thick and dark, was still damp at the nape of his neck and she couldn’t help but wonder how long ago he’d stepped out of the shower…wet…and naked.
She swallowed hard, then grabbed a rag and began to polish the copper-clad counter. “Gee, I would have thought you’d still be out pillaging,” Meggie murmured.
Lana walked behind her and Meggie felt a sharp pain on the back of her arm as her partner pinched her. She cursed softly and rubbed her skin, then spun around and sent Lana a withering glare.
“Be nice,” Lana whispered. “I’m going to do some bookwork in the office.”
“I don’t have to be nice,” Meggie muttered. “I detest the man.”
“Then you go do the bookwork and let me be nice. He’s gorgeous. And you know what they say about firefighters.”
“What’s that,” Meggie murmured.
Lana leaned closer and whispered in her ear. “It’s not the size of the hose, but where they point it that counts.”
An unbidden giggle burst from Meggie’s throat and she gave Lana a gentle shove toward the office. When they were finally alone, Meggie sent Dylan a sideways glance, then pulled a paper cup from beneath the counter and set it in front of him. He’d be getting this cup of coffee “to go.”
He observed her intently as she waited for the coffee to dribble down into the tall carafe. A smile quirked the corners of his mouth, so easy and confident in his power over her. God, he was even more gorgeous than she remembered. All her friends in school had crushes on the New Kids On The Block, but Meggie had held out for the real thing—Dylan Quinn. Though he was two years older and a high school senior, she’d somehow deluded herself into believing that the feeling was mutual, that Dylan was in love with her. After all, every time he saw her, he’d smiled. And once or twice, he’d even called her by name.
And then it happened. Her brother, Tommy, had mentioned that Dylan was interested in taking her to her Sophomore Folic. It was the first big dance of her high school career and she’d just assumed she’d be staying home like most of the other wallflowers in her class. But then, Dylan, the most handsome boy in all of South Boston High School, had agreed to escort her to the dance.
She could barely contain herself and she had told all her friends and they told all their friends until the entire sophomore class at Southie knew that Meggie Flanagan had a date with the Dylan Quinn. She’d bought a new dress and had shoes dyed to match. And when a corsage arrived earlier in the afternoon, she’d been so excited she’d nearly burst into tears. Then Dylan arrived, dressed in jeans and dragging his little brother, Brian, behind him. Brian, who was dressed in the tux and wearing a goofy grin.
At first, she hadn’t understood, but then it became clear—Brian was her date, not Dylan. Though Brian was a Quinn, he hadn’t really reached his full Adonis-like potential yet. He was still at least six inches shorter than she was and his idea of charm was staring at her dreamily while he tugged at his bowtie. She would have been better off going with her cousin or even her brother Tommy.
“I suppose you’ve come to apologize,” she said, her back still to him.
He chuckled. “Actually, I came for my jacket. Remember?”
“Oh, right,” she murmured. Of course, he wouldn’t have come to see her. He was simply retrieving his gear. She slowly turned, then walked to the end of the counter. “I’ll go get it. It’s in the office.”
“No hurry,” he said. “You can give it back to me later. After I take you to dinner.”
Meggie’s heart stopped about the same time her feet did, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. Had she heard him right? Or was her mind playing tricks on her the same way it had all those years ago, when she’d convinced herself that Dylan Quinn harbored secret passions for her. “What?”
“Dinner,” he said. “You look like you could use a break and it would give us a chance to catch up on old times.”
Meggie swallowed hard. This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be real. “I—I really can’t,” she murmured, turning away to busy herself wiping the back counter. “Not tonight.”
“Then tomorrow night? I get off at eight. We could get a bite to eat, then maybe catch a movie.”
She shook her head. She’d made a fool of herself once before, falling for him then having her heart stomped on. It wasn’t going to happen again. She wouldn’t allow it. “No,” she said firmly. “I have too much work to do.” Meggie grabbed his cup from the counter, then hurried over to fill it from the carafe.
When she’d finished, she spun around to hand it to him. But the hot coffee sloshed over the edge of the cup, scalding the top of her hand. She cried out in pain and dropped the cup, the hot liquid spattering over her shoes. In an instant, he was beside her, taking her hand gently in his and leading her to the small sink tucked beneath the counter.
Dylan flipped on the cold water, then held her hand beneath it. “Do you have ice?” he asked.
Meggie winced, then nodded at the icemaker nearby. He grabbed a towel then wrapped it around a handful of ice before returning to her side. “How does it feel,” he asked.
“It hurts,” Meggie replied. But in truth, she barely noticed the pain. It had vanished the moment he’d touched her, the flood of adrenaline simply washing it away. He touched her again, this time pulling her hand from beneath the water. He pressed her palm against his chest, then laid the ice over it. Beneath her fingers, she could feel his heart beating, strong and even.
She was thankful their roles weren’t reversed for if he felt her heart racing, he’d know exactly how his touch had affected her. “That feels good.”
He smiled down at her. “You should be more careful,” he murmured, his gaze drifting lazily over her features. He stopped at her lips and she held her breath. For a moment, she was sure that if she closed her eyes and tipped her head up, he’d kiss her.
But then he chuckled softly, and pulled the ice from her hand. “Let see here,” he said, carefully examining the skin just below her wrist. “It’s a little red but no blistering. I think you’ll be all right.” He drew her hand up to his lips and pressed a cool kiss on her flaming skin.
Stunned, Meggie yanked her hand away as if she’d been burned all over again. He was teasing her, taking advantage of her nervousness when he was near. Dylan Quinn knew exactly how he made her feel and he was using it against her. “Please, don’t do that,” she murmured. She snatched the ice from his hands and drew a ragged breath. “I’ll just go get your jacket and then you can be on your way.”
Dylan stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged indifferently. “I’ll get it another time,” he said, stepping around the end of the counter. He looked back once. “I’ll see you around, Meggie Flanagan.” With that, he strode toward the door.
She fought the urge to run after him, to order him to stay away from her coffee shop and out of her life. But instead, all she could manage to do was admire the wide shoulders hidden beneath his leather jacket and the narrow hips accented by his jeans. He stepped through the door and a soft sigh