For always, p.2
For Always, page 2
“Not getting soft are you, Darnell? It’s been years since we’ve had an opportunity to square off opposite each other in the ultimate arena,” Quinn said.
“Not since you began limiting yourself to criminal cases. Why did you take Gordon on? There’s nothing challenging about this liability case, not compared to someone’s life hanging in the balance.”
Quinn shrugged. “No special reason. Maybe I need a change. How are the twins?”
“Great! Michigan State agrees with the boys. It’s been good for my marriage, too, if you know what I mean.” He raised his eyebrows. “We’re able to spend quite a few uninterrupted hours together. How’s Cynthia?”
Quinn’s brow creased as the conversation with Heather Gregory flashed uneasily through his mind. “Between this case and the Jameison murder trial, I’m ashamed to say my daughter hasn’t seen much of me. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I made it home before midnight. I’ve got to start making time for her. She’s growing up too fast.”
“Things have been hard since her mother’s death. For her and you. Hey, how about a game of racquetball sometime soon? It’s been awhile.” Darnell grinned boyishly, snapping his briefcase shut. “That may not be such a great idea considering you spent two weeks in Hawaii last month. I probably don’t stand a chance against you.”
“My time was spent in the courtroom, Darnell, not the handball court—and I could really use a game,” Quinn said as he flexed his tight muscles before pushing away from the conference table. “Time’s the issue. There’s never enough.”
“You seeing anyone special these days?” Getting a blank look from the other man, Darnell added, “Of the long-legged variety.”
Quinn poured himself a drink from the bar housed in the armoire against the far wall. It held a small refrigerator and stereo equipment and was adjacent to a gray leather sofa and matching wingback armchairs. His office was home rather than the dream home he’d purchased for Peggy ten years earlier.
He eyed the scotch in front of him with little interest. “No time, my friend. The only thing I’ve seen intimately is a pile of legal briefs.”
“Man, you need more than that,” Darnell said, tightening his tie.
Quinn shrugged but said nothing. The comment required no response. No woman could replace his wife. He’d loved Peggy with all his heart. Those feelings just didn’t disappear. He still dreamt about... still recalled the softness of her skin, the welcoming warmth of her smile.
“Go home, Darnell. Give Elaine a kiss for me.”
“Right. Call me when you can squeeze in a game,” Darnell called, crossing the room.
Quinn waved briefly, moving to stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling window behind his massive desk.
Detroit’s Riverfront and Windsor’s twinkling lights stretched out before him—a breathtaking view, but one that didn’t hold his interest. There was no point in going home now, he decided. He couldn’t relax—not with several more hours of work ahead of him.
How he longed to lose himself within the warmth of a woman’s soft body. There were any number of women he could call. Women always seemed to be around him. But that wouldn’t be enough. The temporary physical release he found in sex would hold no true satisfaction, and emotionally he would remain unaffected. He focused on work rather than women. Quinn absently wondered when he’d lost the ability to feel and to give love.
It was during the endless twilight hours of the night that the force of his emptiness would seem to seep beneath his skin, settle in his pores until it twisted itself deep into his gut.
“Mr. Montgomery?” The silky intonation of the speaker, rather than the sharp tap on the open door, caused him to jerk toward the sound.
At thirty, Heather felt confident enough to handle just about any situation. She viewed facing Quinn Montgomery on his own turf as a necessary inconvenience.
With her professional demeanor firmly in place, Heather was nevertheless intensely aware of the man following her progress as she crossed the book-lined masculine room.
His eyes weren’t black but a charcoal gray, and they were moving leisurely over the lush curves of her petite frame. They didn’t stop until he reached her high-heeled pumps. Her clothes, although feminine, tended to be well tailored and simply designed. She had worn a cream jacquard silk dress softly gathered and cinched in at her small waist with a wide cream and black woven belt. It was teamed with a black wool jacket. Her shoes and shoulder bag were black leather. Large onyx earrings trimmed with a metallic gold braid glimmered in her ears.
Heather tried to force herself not to react to the handsome man. It shouldn’t matter that his deep chocolate-brown skin showed vitality despite the lateness of the hour. Nor was it of any consequence that his strong well defined features could only be enhanced by that thick black mustache above his mouth. Heather checked her thoughts sharply—this was no blind date, this was Cynthia’s father.
“Mr. Montgomery?” she repeated.
“Yes, I’m Quinn Montgomery,” he said around the lump in his throat as he looked down into the most beautiful brown eyes he’d ever seen. They were the color of rich sweet caramel. They were framed by thick black lashes and complemented skin the color of molten gold. He waited expectantly for her name.
“Heather Gregory, Cynthia’s high school counselor.” She extended her hand.
Although he was an expert at disguising his emotions, Quinn lifted a brow in surprise and his eyes shone with admiration. The woman had guts, that was for sure—not just any woman would have the courage to show up in his office without an appointment.
His rush of concern and worry for his child wasn’t evident in his face or his posture as he engulfed Heather’s small fine-boned hand in a large yet surprisingly gentle masculine grip. The ache churning in his stomach had started the instant he recognized the name. For the life of him he couldn’t recall the last time he had eaten. A serious mistake for a man with a temperamental ulcer.
Quickly releasing the hand of the most fascinating-looking man she’d ever laid eyes on, Heather was astonished by her profound reaction. She seemed unable to look away from his deep-set eyes. She’d never been so quickly drawn to any man—nothing like this had ever happened to her before... and she was at a loss to explain it. What difference did it make if his black, closely cut natural, strong, square jaw line, and strong six-two frame only added to his devastating appeal?
“I realize I don’t have an appointment. But as I told you on the telephone this morning, it’s important that we speak as soon as possible. Can you spare me a half hour?”
“Please, sit down.” He gestured toward the black leather armchairs in front of his desk.
As Heather dropped gracefully into one of them and crossed shapely legs, Quinn watched, thinking that what she lacked in height she certainly made up for in looks. This small bundle of correct professionalism possessed an earthiness, a womanliness that he found frankly appealing.
Busily trying to reclaim her equilibrium, Heather folded her trembling hands in her lap. Enough of this silliness. Quinn Montgomery might be fine, but he certainly didn’t possess the qualities that she admired in a man. She detested the way he neglected his child.
“May I get you something, a drink, coffee?” he asked, while marveling at the absurdity of his position. The only female who’d engaged his interest in quite some time was broadcasting volumes of disapproval his way.
“No, thank you. I realize you’re very busy, Mr. Montgomery. But Cynthia’s problems can’t wait for a more opportune time. She’s in trouble now and needs your support.”
“I deal in facts, Miss Gregory. It is Miss, isn’t it?” He focused on her small ringless left hand as he waited for her response with more interest than was circumspect.
Her caramel-colored eyes mirrored her surprise, yet her reply was immediate. “My situation has no bearing on this discussion, Mr. Montgomery—but to expedite matters the answer is yes, I’m not married. Now shall we discuss Cynthia?”
“By all means.”
Amusement lit his eyes so fleetingly that Heather almost doubted what she’d seen. As he made himself comfortable behind the desk, Heather tried not to take note of the way his white shirt followed the wide planes of his deep chest, wide shoulders, and trim midsection or speculate on how nicely his navy dress slacks molded the contours of his hips and thighs.
“You’ve been deliberately vague about the entire situation, Miss Gregory,” Quinn said. “I fail to understand the need for urgency. Nor do I understand why you couldn’t go into this on the phone.”
Not for a second did Heather underestimate this man’s keen intelligence or his ability to assess a situation in an amazingly short period of time. He was a trained observer. There was also no question of his acclaim in his chosen career. He was a partner in one of the most successful law firms in the country.
No matter how direct he expected her to be, Heather wouldn’t dare spring this on him. A certain degree of preparation was essential, regardless of how much she personally disagreed with his method of parenting.
“I don’t know if you’re aware of it, Mr. Montgomery, but I’ve been counseling Cynthia since she enrolled at Lawrence. She’s been involved in a few minor infractions, nothing serious. Cynthia is a loner. She doesn’t have any friends. When she came to me, it was because she didn’t know what else to do.”
Quinn’s forehead was creased in a frown, but he remained silent.
“I understand both your parents and your late wife’s parents are dead. And Cynthia’s only female relative lives in another state, is that correct?”
“Yes, and my brother is currently serving time in Jackson State Prison. Now that we’ve summarized my family history, you can tell me why you’re here.”
Although momentarily lost for words, Heather recovered quickly. “Mr. Montgomery, I’m here on Cynthia’s behalf and with her consent.”
“Miss Gregory, had you considered going into law? You would make an excellent district attorney. Shall we jump to the heart of the matter. What’s so important that it couldn’t wait another week?” He paused, tugging at his mustache. “You see, Cynthia’s not above using others to get what she wants from me. You’re obviously a compassionate person. She’s probably using that fact to her advantage.”
“Mr. Montgomery—” Heather started.
“I don’t know what terrible secret she has entrusted to you. But I do know my child.”
Despite her attempts to cushion the news, Heather could see that he was losing patience, but she couldn’t just dump her news in his lap.
“Cynthia’s no angel. Sometimes I think she does things solely to antagonize me. She begged me not to send her away to boarding school this year. She promised faithfully that she would settle down to her studies and stay out of trouble.”
Fed up with waiting, Quinn’s nerves were taut with tension and his stomach ulcer felt as if it were on fire. He forced himself to ignore the distress signals his body was sending out.
“Mr. Montgomery—”
He interrupted, his tone deliberately casual. “There’s nothing, you see, that she hasn’t already done to thumb her nose at my beliefs. She has already been arrested for shoplifting at the tender age of thirteen. I wouldn’t be surprised if you came here to tell me she has stolen a car. So what is it now? Has she been caught drinking?”
“Cynthia is pregnant.”
His facial muscles hadn’t altered with the announcement. Only his grip on the arms of his chair indicated that he’d even heard what she said. The distant sound of a car horn blaring was the only distraction in the too-silent office. Quinn pushed back his chair and went over to the window. With his back to her, he stared down at the Jefferson Avenue traffic.
Heather had read Cynthia’s case history and was familiar with the teenager’s past exploits. But she wasn’t ready for Quinn Montgomery’s cool demeanor. She waited for an explosion or an oath, something to signal he loved Cynthia. But he said nothing. Not one blasted thing.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to just blurt it out,” Heather said, hoping to spur conversation. “I’d hoped that my coming here would make it easier. But I can see now that there’s no easy way.”
As the minutes continued to tick away, the tiny bit of optimism Heather held inside dwindled. Heather likened him to a perfectly tuned machine which showed no emotions whatsoever. Eventually he turned, then said coolly, “Thank you for coming, Miss Gregory. I appreciate your interest in my daughter. Cynthia’s my problem, and I’ll be the one to handle it.”
Heather’s anger was as inevitable as gasoline trailing toward a flickering flame. “What kind of father are you?” she burst out. “You spend your time locked away among these law books while your daughter’s life is in shambles. And that elderly housekeeper you employ as watchdog for Cynthia is a joke. That poor woman hasn’t a prayer of keeping up with a teenager. Have you tried it yourself lately? Don’t bother answering. I know the answer. You can’t pay somebody to love your child, Mr. Montgomery. That’s your job.”
Heather rushed on with all the finesse of a sledgehammer crashing into a brick wall. “Cynthia isn’t your problem, she’s your daughter. And she’s carrying your first grandchild. What are you planning to do about it, Counselor?”
“I believe you’ve said quite enough.” His voice was laced with steel as he glared at her from penetrating dark gray eyes. But Quinn wasn’t really seeing Heather. He was locked in the grips of disbelief and despair. No! Not his Cynthia, not his baby.
By this time Heather was functioning on sheer emotion. Cynthia was her only concern. Somebody had to care, and it looked as if she was elected. As far as Quinn Montgomery was concerned—that heartless jerk—he could go jump...
“Do you know that she doesn’t think you love her?” Heather continued. “That was why she was afraid to come to you with this. She doesn’t think you care about her! I worked in the Chicago public schools for a number of years. Many of the parents I worked with were struggling each and every day just to survive. Many were substance abusers. But that didn’t stop them from caring about their kids.” She paused for breath, then fueled with anger, rushed on.
“I bet you don’t know anything about your own child. What are her hobbies, her favorite movies, food, music? Where does she spend her time? Cynthia didn’t ask to come into this world. But she’s here now—so when are you going to start acting like her father?”
“My personal life is none of your business. You’ve done your job. Now get the hell out of here,” Quinn said with icy disdain while his eyes shimmered like molten lava. Unwittingly he massaged his midsection.
Heather was thrilled by his outburst, not the least bit taken back. Instead she was flooded with an overwhelming sense of relief. Maybe she’d been wrong about him. Something in his tone told her he was experiencing emotion... raw, unvarnished emotions.
Quinn Montgomery must be a master at concealing his true feelings, Heather surmised. His eyes told her what he hadn’t said: he genuinely cared about his daughter. Heather was just beginning to recognize that his neglect of Cynthia didn’t mean he didn’t love her—and that sudden awareness forced Heather to face the truth about her own high-voltage behavior.
She mentally kicked herself. She had lost it! Her carefully tendered objectivity had blown up in her face. She had done more than step over the professional line. She had torn it into little pieces and practically tried to shove it down Quinn Montgomery’s arrogant throat. Never in her career had she lost control of herself as she had done here. She had tossed away years of training and hard work in a moment of blind outrage. But why? Was it him? Was Quinn Montgomery the reason? Heather swallowed a groan of dismay. That made even less sense.
There was no valid excuse for her unprofessional behavior. And now she was going to have to admit her error and hope she hadn’t completely antagonized Cynthia’s father. She didn’t have the luxury of pride. She had come to help Cynthia. The girl’s future was at stake.
“Mr. Montgomery, I apologize. I lost my temper. I had no right to assume anything about you or your relationship with Cynthia. That’s not why I came.” Heather paused before saying, “I’d like to help. I have a few suggestions that may be useful. Naturally the final decision as to whether or not she keeps her baby is Cynthia’s, with your input of course.”
“Good night, Miss Gregory.” His brow was damp with perspiration and pleated into a heavy scowl.
Heather bit her lower lip, deciding a woman would have no easy job trying to understand and care about Quinn Montgomery. He was too blasted self-contained. Where did that thought come from? Hadn’t her wandering thoughts and emotions caused enough trouble for one evening?
“Are you alright? You look like you’re in pain,” Heather said softly.
His frown deepened as he seemed to realize he had given himself away. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks. “My ulcer isn’t your problem. I’m lucky you haven’t got me up on child neglect charges. I’ll deal with my daughter, Miss Gregory. Goodbye.”
Heather wasn’t given a choice. But before she left she reached into her bag and extracted a business card. On the back she jotted down her home address and telephone number.
“If I can be of service, please contact me.”
The front of the house was dark, only the light shining in the foyer was visible from the circular drive.
Quinn had worked hard to be able to own this particular house, on this specific street, on this block, and in this neighborhood. Indian Village—with its lavish brick homes, some of which dated back to and were even built by Detroit’s elite auto barons. Indian Village represented success with a capital “S.”
Quinn was that. He had made enough, invested enough, to afford the best car, the home, clothes, and acceptance. His kid had every advantage he could give her. Evidently there were some advantages he couldn’t provide. He couldn’t bring her mother back, that was for damn sure.
He had grown up under the care of an older brother. Their parents had been killed in a car accident when Quinn was twelve, his brother Chad, seventeen. To support himself and Quinn, Chad had taken a job in the auto factory, but soon grew bored with the work. His interest in fast cars and beautiful women led him into the drug scene. He was smart enough not to use but became deeply involved in the buying and selling of narcotics.
