Page 5 of Midnight Oil

She laughed. "Go get on your horse, crazy man, before I start to believe your bullshit."

I lifted her hand to my mouth and kissed it before peering one last time into those unbelievable blue eyes. "It's not bullshit. One day you'll come to your senses and leave that guy—" I straightened. She looked so small and frail and more than a little lost as she gazed up at me. "I'll be waiting for you, Suzy Q."

Her cheeks turned pink and she held back a smile. "Thanks for the help with the trays. By the way, does the Red Knight win tonight?" she called to me.

I looked back. "Nope, I take a dive after the first joust. So you better keep those pints filled." The audience members tended to get pretty damn competitive during the show, and when their knight was defeated, things could get rowdy. "I bid you ado, my fair lady and remember what I said." I reached the door.

"I thought you were done dating women at work," she called back to me.

I looked over my shoulder at her. The corset belt was cinched tightly around her tiny waist, accentuating the curves above and below it. I had seen her without her costume and her body was just as delicious without the saucy wench costume and corset. I'd spent plenty of time thinking about holding those curves and running my mouth along her creamy skin.

"For you, Suzy Q, I would break all the rules." I winked at her and walked out the door.

Four

Suzy

Ihadn't realized how badly I'd bruised myself on the coffee table until I started hoisting heavy trays and leaning over tables. Two aspirins had gotten me through a long, loud dinner shift. I was thrilled when the work night ended. I only wished I was heading home to something altogether more pleasant and enjoyable than my depressing little rental and my even more depressing boyfriend.

I'd pushed the heartbreak of losing my grandmother's watch to a game of poker out of my mind once I got to work. The job was so hectic, I needed to be on my toes and ready for anything. At least tonight there weren't any crude, rude drunks, like my boyfriend, to fend off. Occasionally, a dinner guest or party got too fired up and the big mugs of beer didn't help. The management frowned on us complaining about harassment. They rarely asked a guest to leave. They didn't like the negative publicity. Instead, we servers were supposed just grin and stay polite and avoid grabby hands and inappropriate advances. Easier said than done in a crowded dining hall.

I sent another text to Tate. "I'm waiting on the east side of the building, near the parking lot. Hurry up, I'm cold and tired." It was my second text to remind him that he had to pick me up since he had so boldly helped himself to my car. I dropped the phone into my purse and sat on the bench outside the building.

For a summer night, it was a touch chilly, but I had left the house in such a state of stress I'd forgotten my sweater. I crossed my arms around myself for warmth. Most everyone else had already left for the night, but there were a few cars in the lot, including Quinn's silver Porsche. His car was easy to spot because he was the only employee who drove a car that was worth three full years of pay. The Red Knight's horse had stumbled during the joust and knowing Quinn, he had stuck around to make sure the animal was all right. I didn't know too much about his personal life except what I'd heard through snippets of conversation with my coworkers. Apparently, Quinn's older brother was co-owner of a multi-billion dollar company that sold, of all things, monthly subscriptions for adult toys.

Quinn Armstrong was one of those men who could draw all the energy in the room right toward him. It helped that he was extraordinarily handsome, built like a superhero and yet still managed to be charming. Normally, men with all the physical attributes lacked in personality but Quinn was different. It was one of the reasons every unattached woman at the dinner theater had at one point or another dated the man. I would be lying if I didn't admit to finding myself in the occasional erotic daydream with Quinn. The man oozed sexual magnetism. Just like this evening when he helped me with the tray, he was constantly teasing me, flirting with me, telling me he was waiting for me to give up on Tate. While it seemed I was slowly, truly giving up on Tate, I was convinced the last thing I needed was one of Quinn's short, fiery flings. And from what I'd heard, again through the gossip tree, they were indeedfiery. It seemed along with the good looks and charming personality, Quinn, according to coworkers with firsthand knowledge, definitely knew his way around a woman's body.

Tate and I had a sex life that was occasionally good but usually mediocre. That was mostly due to his selfish style in bed, where his climax was paramount and mine was just a nice side benefit. For that past year, I had shunned his advances more than warmed up to them. I told myself it was because I was tired from work, but deep down, I knew it was because my feelings for Tate were fading into a dull gray emptiness.

I checked my phone but there was no message from Tate. I swiped my thumb over the phone icon. It rang once and went straight to voicemail. He had either turned it off or forgotten to charge it. "What an ass." I dropped the phone into my purse and stared out at the road. During the day, it was a busy four lane street, but at this hour, it was deserted . . . and dark. It was a one mile walk to the nearest bus stop and my feet were tired. Not to mention that the bruise on my hip was so tender every step hurt.

The back door opened and Quinn stepped out. He was busy texting and didn't notice me sitting on the bench. I kept quiet and watched his tall, broad shouldered figure cross the parking lot to his car. He walked with that easy, confident swagger that fit his personality perfectly. I rested my head back against the brick wall behind me and closed my eyes. I briefly allowed myself a few hot moments of imagining myself in his capable arms. Quinn's large hands sweeping over my naked skin, his tongue teasing my taught nipple before making its way to my aching pussy. Tingling heat unfurled between my legs. Just fantasizing about the man, while sitting on a cold hard bench and leaning against a rough brick wall, produced more physical reaction than five minutes of Tate's idea of rushed, clumsy foreplay. A flicker of envy went through me as I thought about my coworkers getting to experience a good, attentive long fuck with Quinn Armstrong. Maybe it would be worth the heartbreak of knowing that he would soon move on to his next conquest just to experience a few luscious nights in Quinn's bed.

Headlights flashed across my face rousing me from my thoughts. I opened my eyes and squinted into the strong beam of light. The Porsche turned off and Quinn climbed out of the car. He had taken the leather strap from his hair, and it hung long and loose over his shoulders. He had pulled on a black sports coat over a green shirt. "Suzy Q, what on earth are you doing out here all alone in the shadows?"

Quinn had started calling me Suzy Q from the first day we met. Brenda, the casting director, had been so thrilled at landing her new Red Knight, she had personally walked him around to introduce him to the rest of us. He broke right into an impressive version of Creedence Clearwater'sSuzy Qwhen Brenda told him my name. It wasn't the first time someone had called me Suzy Q but it was certainly the most memorable.

I crossed my arms tighter against the cold. "I'm just waiting for Tate to pick me up. He needed my car tonight."

Quinn removed his coat. "Stand up so I can drop this around your shoulders. I don't need it tonight anyhow. I was supposed to head to a party, but I decided to skip it and head home."

"Are you sure? I'll probably only be here a few more minutes."

He held the coat up. "Come on. You can't be sitting out here in that wench costume. You're likely to attract all kinds of vagabonds and pillagers."

I stood to be wrapped in the coat. "I definitely don't want to attract pillagers, but I've heard vagabonds are quite gentlemanly in the sack."

His deep, low laugh caused his warm breath to tickle my forehead as he reached behind me with the coat. I stared straight at his masculine throat and took the opportunity to breathe in the scent of his aftershave, a mellow, pleasant scent, an expensive one, no doubt. Men in Porsches didn't splash on the drug store bargain stuff.

I realized then, with a certain amount of shock, that we had never stood quite so close. His unintentional nearness sent a shiver through me.

"See, you were cold. Good thing I had my coat." Quinn mistook the slight tremble as a result of the cold, but I knew it came from an entirely different source. There was no denying it, when he was close enough to see every long spike of eyelash and every bit of stubble from his five-o'clock shadow, Quinn Armstrong was a fucking male masterpiece.

He pulled the oversized coat around my shoulders and pinched it shut as he tilted his head to look at my face. "Better?"

I went from sitting on a frigid bench in my thin cotton peasant blouse to being draped and swaddled in Quinn's warm masculine scent. I was long pastbetter.

"How do you manage it?" I asked as I took over gripping the coat shut around me. The broad shoulders were like planks jutting out from my neck. I could have wrapped myself in the coat twice but I felt cozy.

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