Discarded Promises Read online

  “Damn it.”

  “What?” she said on a breath.

  “Be right back.”

  She caught his hand. Wasn’t about to let him leave. “Top drawer,” she managed to say.

  He fumbled around in it and found the foil packet, tearing it with his teeth.

  Quilla took it from his hand and slowly slid the prophylactic down every inch of his marvelous length.

  He caressed her intimately, stroking her back and forth. Her hips nearly convulsed with pleasure.

  “You’re wet and ready, baby.”

  She’d been ready forever.

  And then he slid into her, the entire magnificence of him. She was slightly tight. It had been awhile.

  Then they moved to a beat as old as time. Her heartbeat pounded in her chest. It had been so long, so very long. She wrapped her legs around him, wanting him deeper, wanted every inch of his length in her. The pleasure built until she thought she would go out of her mind with it.

  He rocked his hips, wondering if he’d ever felt this much pleasure before.

  “Oh, baby,” he murmured on a moan. Her little cries of pleasure were driving him crazy.

  And then the pleasure crested until she felt she would explode with it. When her orgasm came, it took her breath away. His answering moan was close behind.

  He felt like he’d climbed a precipice, was falling, and would never land safely.

  Quilla was lying in Denton’s arms, her body relaxing against him spoon fashion. One arm was thrown around her waist.

  “How did this happen?” she asked.

  “Because you’ve been lusting for my body since the moment you met me.”

  “In your dreams.”

  “I confess. I’ve dreamed about you more than I want to admit.”

  “Hum.”

  “And this is crazy. We’re two most unlikely people.”

  “Don’t think I haven’t thought of that. I agree with you one hundred percent.”

  He turned her in his arms and moved on top of her. “You drive me crazy.”

  “Yeah?”

  “So why can’t I keep my hands off of you?” he asked as he lowered his mouth to hers.

  This time their coupling was slow, leisurely. They explored each other’s body slowly, intimately, completely.

  And afterward, when Quilla fell asleep, it was the deepest she’d slept in a very long time.

  It was awkward waking up beside Denton the next morning. The covers were thrown back exposing his magnificent chest. She took her time perusing his form, wondering what had made her fall for this man. She wasn’t in love or anything stupid like that. But her world turned upside down just thinking about him.

  They had nothing in common. She loved dogs while he barely tolerated them.

  Lucky lifted her head. She’d hopped up on the bed sometime during the night and snuggled down beside Quilla on top of the covers.

  Quilla stroked her. Pomeranians were people dogs. They loved being around them. Quilla worried about Lucky when she was with Denton. Worried that he would leave the poor dog to her own devices for too long without the human contact that was so necessary. Lucky was such a good dog.

  But lately Denton seemed to be warming to Lucky. Quilla noticed he’d ruffled the dog’s fur whenever he arrived to pick her up. And Lucky didn’t seem to shrink away from him. So at least he was treating her well. Perhaps he wasn’t so bad after all. Quilla didn’t trust people who didn’t like animals.

  The clock alarmed, and Denton came to life slowly. He snuggled Quilla close to him. When he felt something lick his hand he opened his eyes wide.

  “What is that mangy mutt doing in the bed?”

  “Shush. You’ll hurt her feelings.”

  “I’m going to hurt something else if she doesn’t get out of this bed.”

  “She’s comfortable,” Quilla said. “Just calm down. Do you want breakfast before you go?”

  “Um. Sounds good.” He threw another nasty look at Lucky, who looked sweet and innocent.

  “You’re spoiling that dog. I better not catch her on my bed.”

  “Don’t be so mean.” Quilla threw back the covers and got up, lowering Lucky to the floor.

  Chapter 9

  Tom was on the phone talking to his contact in code, trying to determine what the hell had happened to his equipment. Those people acted like it grew on trees, that it was nothing to hide the shipment for export.

  Besides, it cost money to produce them. He didn’t plan to ship a lot. That was how you ended up in jail. His goal was to ship a few, make a killing, and get out before Customs started sniffing around.

  He might be greedy, but not stupid, and being too greedy was stupid.

  Quilla dropped Lucky off to be groomed while she went to the hair salon. While she was there she got a pedicure and manicure.

  “Get some acrylics for a change,” Regina had said before Quilla left the shop.

  “I just want a little paint and shaping,” Quilla murmured.

  “Knock yourself out for a change. Do something different,” Regina insisted.

  Quilla glanced at Regina’s long flawless nails.

  “Get a design painted on, too. Don’t be cheap.”

  Quilla wasn’t getting any fake nails, but she could experiment with a design, she thought as the young guy worked on her hands and feet while she got her hair dried.

  Wonder how long they last, she thought as he gently placed her feet in some solution. He worked with quick and efficient hands to massage her feet, wrenching her back to the night before, when Denton had massaged them.

  But when Denton ran his hands over her body, applying pressure in some places, then switching to gentle strokes, she’d felt as limp as a rag doll and highly stimulated at the same time. In an unhurried pace, he’d worked his magic over her body. That man had amazing hands. She could keep him for those fingers alone.

  The manicurist sanded and buffed her feet. He applied lotion and painted the nails. He did the same things to her hands.

  Just the massage was worth the trip, Quilla thought as she left the shop wearing sandals. The frigid air brought her back to life. A pedicure in winter just wasn’t the happening thing, she thought as her feet and toes nearly froze on her way to the shop.

  When her nails dried sufficiently, she picked up Lucky. The dog’s coat gleamed and was trimmed into a flattering shape. Her hair was softer than usual.

  “A girl needs pampering sometimes, Lucky.” Lucky’s ears cocked at hearing her name, as if she understood exactly what Quilla was talking about.

  Both of them went back home all dolled up.

  Denton had been out of his mind dragging Quilla off to bed like a caveman. But that woman had gotten under his skin looking sassy and cute, and fresh from the shower, until he’d nearly lost his mind with wanting her. He had probably been fighting with her out of sheer sexual frustration. And when all she did was argue back, he’d had all he could stand. Even knowing he had no business mixing his personal life with business, he’d dragged her off to bed anyway.

  And wanted to again.

  He’d forced himself to stay away from her for the past couple of days, though it didn’t do much good.

  Forget trying to get her out of his system. Although he didn’t need the distraction right now, it wasn’t going to happen, he thought, as he got ready to go to his boss’s party. He’d buttoned his shirt and tightened the tie around his neck when something caught his eye. Lucky was resting peacefully on his favorite chair.

  When he’d picked her up from the shop, Regina had her, and she’d looked like a new dog. Regina told him Quilla had taken her to be groomed. The dog even smelled sweet, as well as looked pretty. He took the bow out of her hair before he walked her. He wouldn’t be caught dead walking a dog with a bow in her hair.

  “Get off the chair. You can rest on the carpet. A bath doesn’t give you special privileges.” Denton scooped the dog off and deposited her gently on the floor. He got his watch from the
table beside his bed. When he returned, Lucky was on the chair again, in the same spot.

  Undoubtedly Quilla’s influence.

  “You’re pushing it, mutt.” Denton started to remove her again before he thought better of it. As soon as he left the house, Lucky was going to do what she wanted to. The damn dog was as stubborn as Quilla.

  Quilla picked Hattie up at six-thirty. Hattie wore a shimmering dress with diamond teardrop earrings and necklace. They drove along the parkway to McLean in an area of mini-mansions. Several cars were parked in the neighborhood, too many for Quilla to get a parking space close to the house.

  “I’ll let you off here, Hattie, and park the car.”

  “I’ll keep a watch for you. Not safe even in good neighborhoods these days. I hear all kinds of things going on on my police scanner.” She closed the door but kept an eagle eye on Quilla as she drove out of sight and found a space a couple blocks away.

  When Quilla walked back, Hattie was still waiting for her, but a young man of about seventeen or eighteen was with her. He was proudly displaying a little peach fuzz on his face.

  “I was just about to send Randall looking for you. He’s Tom and Wendy Goodwill’s son. Randall, meet Quilla Day. She owns the gourmet dog treat store in Old Town.”

  “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” Randall stuck out a hand and shook Quilla’s.

  “He told me he has a black Lab named Midnight.”

  “Very energetic,” Quilla said. “Is it a male or female?”

  “Female. But my mom has several. Hers are show dogs.”

  “Females are a little easier to manage,” Hattie murmured.

  Randall walked with them into the house. The downstairs was open to the guests. A large assortment of food was arranged on the dining room table.

  “Thank you for waiting with me, Randall. You’re a very well-mannered young man. I like that in youth.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he said and walked off. He wore dress slacks and a shirt. He hadn’t donned a jacket, and it was cold outside, poor thing.

  “May I get you something to drink, or a plate?” Quilla asked, seeing the assortment of food on the dining room table. “They have bottled water.”

  “Forget that. A martini.”

  “Hattie, Hattie.” A distinguished gentleman wearing a black suit approached them before Quilla could leave to get Hattie’s drink.

  “George, I was admiring the Fabergé.”

  “I bought it from a private collector. I’ve been trying to get my hands on it for years.”

  “What finally convinced him?”

  “He fell on bad times. He tried to get me to promise to sell it back to him when he recovers. But I won’t. And he knows that.” He glanced at the egg and back at Hattie. “It’s a thing of immense beauty.”

  “Indeed. May I introduce you to Quilla Day? She owns the wonderful dog treat shop my granddaughter just loves.”

  “I know your daughter, I believe—Wendy,” Quilla said.

  “She’s told me about your shop. Welcome.” He glanced toward the door. “May I get you anything? A drink?”

  “Perhaps later. We just want to mingle now,” Hattie said and grasped Quilla’s arm.

  “Enjoy yourselves. Excuse me, please.” He went off to greet new arrivals.

  Quilla ordered a martini for Hattie and an Evian for herself. She and Hattie began walking through the lavishly appointed rooms decorated in antiques.

  “The most difficult part about moving to a smaller residence when you’re older is what to do with all the nice things you’ve collected over the years. I gave many of my treasured pieces to my children and grands and I still have too much. I couldn’t bear to part with another thing.”

  “I’m sure they appreciated them.”

  “They did. But, you know, you hope to live with them for the rest of your life, but things change. At first I crammed as much as I could into the apartment. I barely had space to move around.”

  Quilla smiled. Hattie still had more furniture than could fit comfortably.

  Hattie sighed. “It’s always nice if you can live out your days in your home. But the house became too much for me. It was lonely rambling around in that huge place. I’m glad I’m no longer there.” She touched Quilla’s arm and waved in the direction of the living room with her drink. “Over there, the dashing young man among the group of women.”

  By now Quilla knew “dashing young man” was a relative statement. When Quilla spotted the group, Hattie said, “That’s Tom. He’s a randy son of a gun.”

  One woman was hanging on to his arm, the others were laughing at something he said. He was a very attractive man. Perfect build: tall, distinguished-looking, golden-blond hair with darker lashes, smooth voice. His very carriage spelled money—and lots of it.

  “He looks very prosperous,” Quilla mused.

  “Why shouldn’t he? He married money. As much as Wendy wanted to take over her father’s business, Tom talked her into being the little homemaker. George came from Alabama from a very old, distinguished family. Thought women belonged in the home raising the kids.”

  Quilla wrinkled her nose. “How archaic.”

  “Especially since Wendy could run circles around Tom—in business, that is. Probably why he’s always looking at other women. They make him feel manly. You know how that goes.”

  “By the looks of things, I’m sure plenty of women are happy to build up his self-esteem. Especially since he spends lavishly on them.”

  “Or something.”

  “You’re naughty, Hattie.”

  Hattie sniffed. “Life isn’t pretty. If it wasn’t for Randall, I’m sure Wendy would have left him years ago. And good riddance.”

  “How does she stand it?”

  “She knew what was expected of her. Someone told me Wendy was trying to pull her marriage back together. A lost cause, if you ask me.”

  Quilla shook her head.

  “Let’s check out the solarium, shall we?”

  Quilla nodded. Hattie greeted several people on their way. But when they entered the room, Quilla was surprised to see Denton talking with Wendy and another tall, attractive woman.

  “Let me introduce you.” It took a couple of tugs to get Quilla moving again.

  “Wendy, dear. I didn’t know you would be here, Denton,” Hattie said. “We’re neighbors, you know. Did you know he lives in the Dover House, Wendy?”

  “Daddy mentioned he was living in one of our apartments. Hattie, it’s so good to see you again.” The taller woman bent to give Hattie a hug.

  “This is Quilla Day.” For the third time Hattie talked about the dog treat shop.

  “I know Quilla,” Wendy said. “I buy treats for my dogs at her shop.”

  “Have you met Denton Manning?”

  “Yes. He buys treats there, too,” Quilla said.

  Wendy raised an eyebrow. “Your establishment must be very popular.”

  “I couldn’t find a better setting. And how is Lucky?” she asked Denton.

  “Very good.” He frowned at her.

  “Quilla remembers practically every dog that enters her shop,” Hattie said. “Well, I think I’m hungry. Quilla, I think I’m ready to tackle the buffet.”

  Denton caught up with Quilla fifteen minutes later. She was wearing a dress with very high heels. Her legs were exquisite.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  She flashed him a “mind your own business” smile. “I was invited. Why are you here?”

  “I work for the company, remember?”

  “I don’t see many employees.”

  “Upper management was invited.”

  Quilla sipped on her Evian. “Must be nice hanging with the upper crust.”

  “Go home, Quilla. And take Hattie with you. You’re both crazy.”

  “Where I go is none of your business. Hattie and I are having a wonderful time. So feel free to go about your own business.” She waved her glass to indicate he should move on.

/>   After they’d made love, he’d conveniently disappeared. No phone calls, no visits. Not that they were a special item or anything, but the men in attendance had brought their wives or female friends. He knew she was investigating Sadie’s murder. He could have invited her for that purpose, if for no other reason. Except that’s exactly the reason he wouldn’t invite her. And the fact that he was having second thoughts about their lovemaking.

  She should have known better than to trust him. There wasn’t a man in her acquaintance she’d been able to trust, and he was no exception. She’d thought he was different somehow.

  Goes to show, you can’t trust a man.

  “Quilla.” Hattie approached with her hand in the crook of Tom’s arm. “Tom, meet Quilla Day.”

  If Quilla hadn’t been watching him closely she wouldn’t have detected the slight change in his facade. But he quickly recovered.

  He nodded. “Ms. Day. That name seems familiar.”

  “I called you a couple of weeks ago concerning Sadie’s disappearance.”

  “I remember now. I was forced to find a temporary replacement for Sadie until she returns. Do you live in one of our apartments?”

  “No.”

  “Quilla owns the dog treat shop.” Hattie said for what must have been the twentieth time.

  “A very popular establishment. Even I have heard of it.”

  “Poor Sadie. They still haven’t seen hair nor hide of her,” Hattie said.

  “A dependable employee. The tenants really like her. But don’t worry yourself, Hattie,” Tom said, patting her hand. “She’ll be back before you know it.”

  “But it’s not like her to disappear like that,” Hattie said. “That book must have spooked someone. I’d give my dentures to read it.”

  “You will, I’m sure,” Denton said, “since the publisher has it.”

  The silence that emerged was thick enough to slice with a knife. But leave it to Hattie to break the impasse. “Well, I always enjoy a good read.”