Arthur thought they were going overboard. No, he prayed they were.
A global pandemic would have far-reaching health and economic effects. No one wanted to see that happen.
He was a journalist, and something about the whole thing made the back of his neck tighten. That sensation usually hinted at a big story. So he was keeping an eye on things and monitoring daily reports.
“From my ongoing research, Madam,” Hargreaves said, “the matter still seems to be contained to China with that one case in Thailand.”
“I pray it stays that way, Hargreaves,” Clara said, “and that everyone affected recovers.”
“As do we all, Madam. Now, if there’s nothing else, I will begin packing for our trip to San Francisco. Would you like me to coordinate with Master J.T.?”
“We can have him and Caroline over for dinner tonight to discuss details. Thank you, Hargreaves.”
The man bowed and left the room.
Arthur noted the fear lurking in Clara’s eyes, so he pulled her into his arms. Distraction was a useful remedy when she was caught up in worry about the virus. After working on some deeply upsetting stories, Arthur had come to the realization that he couldn’t let the news yank his chain; it would only make for unhappy days. He’d have to help her with that.
“Well, Clara, we have our last matchmaking gig with the Merriams. Let’s make it count, eh?”
She wrapped her arms around him tightly, and he stroked her long white hair. “It will be the best of all our assignments,” she said, getting into the spirit of things like usual.
By God, he hoped that was true.
Chapter 5
The insistent knocking on the front door had Francesca thinking something was wrong.
It was shortly after seven in the morning. Alice must have gone for a run, or she would have answered it. Francesca hated answering the door in her robe, but the sharp staccato knocks suggested urgency.
When she opened it, she had to use all her diplomatic training to prevent an unladylike curse. Quinn was standing in the morning fog, his white shirt casually open at the collar. The sexy smile on his face was all the more provocative with his five o’clock shadow. His dark hair curled at the ends, signaling he’d finger-combed it out of the shower, and those green eyes of his were direct and filled with spice. This was his weekend look, the one she’d always loved, and he damn well knew it. “Are you lost? Insane? I thought something had happened. It’s seven in the morning, Quinn.”
“There are some details I’d prefer to discuss directly, not through email. Since you didn’t return my call and texting seemed a dead end, I had no choice but to show up here. Would you let me inside?”
She didn’t need to look down at herself to know that her navy lacy robe wasn’t exactly a professional outfit, and with Alice gone, she didn’t have a buffer.
“It’s important, Francesca. You’re going to be happy with what I’ve arranged. I promise you.”
She knew she could handle him, and now she was curious. But she was going to play her own move in this game he’d started. “Let me get dressed. You can wait out here while I do.”
His face blanked. “Oh for Christ’s— I’ve seen you in your robe before. Without it too, I might add.” Which was beyond inappropriate, but he’d warned her about his intentions, after all, and she’d admitted she still had feelings for him too. He grinned, looking so much like the carefree young man she’d fallen in love with. “Those are some of my happiest memories of you. May I say again that you look more beautiful than ever? Always did, even more so without makeup.”
She didn’t want to be charmed. “You may not. Stay outside, Quinn.”
She closed the door in his face, but rich laughter leaked through it. A smile snuck across her face. It felt good to hear him laugh again. This serious side of him hadn’t wiped out his sense of humor.
Hurrying to her bedroom, she selected something casual and yet professional: black wool harem pants and a loose white tunic. She wasn’t going to put on a full dress suit this early.
Checking her reflection in the mirror, she brushed her hair quickly and did a few things to her face to boost her usual professional image. As she applied lipstick, she remembered how often he’d told her that he loved seeing her without makeup, like he had only moments ago. He’d even talked her into letting him take a picture of her in his white dress shirt like that, which he’d immediately pronounced was his favorite picture of her.
Her hand froze, and she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Part of her wanted to come downstairs without any makeup on so she could see that look in his eyes again. Although she knew she was a beautiful woman, she’d never felt quite so sensual or powerful—or so loved—as she had with those heavy-lidded green eyes on her.
The pull of those days was as thick as the fog outside her window.
She’d take it one day at a time, she reaffirmed. Marouns didn’t dive into the deep end without a plan, without details. She would see how he was now, and how she was with him. The viability of their relationship would either unfold or it wouldn’t.
Alice would have her own sense too, and Francesca trusted her friend implicitly.
Feeling more empowered, she finished lining her lips with a pink nude perfect for morning and went down to open the door again.
This time, he was flanked by two silver room service settings at his feet. “Our breakfast arrived. Good thing the staff is discreet, although, man, I have a greater appreciation for how far they have to carry this stuff from the main lodge. Now that you’re dressed, how about you let me bring this in?”
He’d brought breakfast? “You planned this? You knew Alice was gone. Do I want to know how you managed it? Bribing the staff is the sign of low character, Quinn.”
“I didn’t bribe anyone.” He picked up the first tray. “Give me some credit. I checked in last night and got up early to see when Alice left.”
His laughter had her stepping forward, fire licking up her spine. “You spied on us? Dammit, Quinn.”
“Let me inside, Francesca. Your bread is getting cold, and trust me, you’re going to want to eat it.”
She stewed for a moment. They needed to establish some stricter rules, and now was as good a time as any. “Come in then and make it snappy. I don’t have all day.”
“Neither do I, but I’m making time for what’s important.”
He cruised past her, and she picked up the other tray to speed things up.
She was halfway to the kitchen and dining area when he reappeared, taking the tray from her. Since the door was standing wide open, she went back to close it before heading back. He was uncapping the silver trays, and her heart thudded at the sight of what lay beneath. Smoked salmon was arranged in a circle dotted with dill and crème fraîche, with an artful pile of sliced cucumbers in the middle. The other tray held two lobster salads with avocado and watercress. He’d already set a basket of fresh baguette off to the right, along with a crock of freshly whipped butter.
He’d recreated their favorite Sunday breakfast.
Her throat thickened, and she couldn’t stop her eyes from tracking to his. His mouth tipped up briefly and then fell again. She fought tears, remembering those happy mornings when they’d finally dragged themselves out of bed and filled their starving bodies after a night of marathon lovemaking.