His father snorted at that, and then the three of them were walking down the hallway to the front of the house. His father opened the door.
Quinn held his breath at the sight of Francesca, framed in the doorway of his childhood home. Her black hair was artfully wrapped in a knot at the base of her slender neck, and in her hands was a box of traditional Lebanese sweets he knew she only brought to dear friends and family. Her violet eyes tracked to his, and she gave a brief smile, a dead giveaway she was fighting nerves too. It made him feel better, knowing that. They were in this together, even on opposite sides of the door. His mother squeezed his hand, released it, and then she was stepping forward to put her arm around her husband’s waist.
“Welcome, Francesca. Alice. I’m Shawn Merriam and this is my wife, Assumpta. It’s an honor to have you both in our home.”
“Mr. Merriam, it’s wonderful to meet you,” Francesca answered. “Thank you for the invitation. It seems you already know of Alice, my dear friend and personal assistant.”
Quinn studied the younger woman, aware of Francesca’s use of the word “friend.” The twinkle in her brown eyes wasn’t as distinctive as it had been in the photo he’d seen, but there was no snuffing it out entirely. She turned her head to the side and shot him a coy smile, which amused him. Game on, Miss Bailey.
“I brought you some sweets from my favorite bakery in Lebanon,” Francesca said. “The ones on the far left are made with orange blossom water.”
“Oh, we’ll have to tell our new daughter-in-law, Annie, Flynn’s wife,” his mother said. “She’s crazy about orange blossoms and includes them in a lot of the skincare products she makes. Using them in sweets might be new to her. Thank you so much. Alice, I hear you’re another girl from the Chicago area. My heart is still in South Side, although this one”—she nudged his dad—“got me to move out here for love.”
“That’s so romantic,” Alice said, extending her hand. “I’m from Naperville myself, Mrs. Merriam, but don’t hold that against me. Mr. Merriam, it’s wonderful to meet you. Both of you.”
“It’s Shawn and Assumpta,” his mother said. “Please, come inside. We’ve just started with mimosas, but we have a full bar. Shawn’s a good bartender, but I expect my other son J.T. is better. Quinn, please show Francesca into the kitchen. We can put out the delicious sweets she brought. I’m sure everyone will be eager to try them. So, Alice… Tell me where you went to high school, dear.” She linked her arm through the woman’s and led her toward the family room.
His father lifted his brows and followed the two women, leaving Quinn and Francesca alone in the entryway. Artfully done, you two.
“You look beautiful,” he said, sweeping his eyes over her. “The sweets weren’t necessary, but they’re a nice touch. I remember their significance.”
“The sweetness of life,” she said, extending the box to him. “Your mother arranged for us to have a few minutes alone. I suppose I can’t disappoint her.”
“What about disappointing me?” He opened his arms. “Would you crush my ego?”
“I’m still thinking it over,” she said, her gaze sweeping up his body with equal candor. “The kitchen, Quinn.”
Taking his mother’s cue, he linked their arms and started walking.
“You could have led the way,” she said, tension present in her arm. But she didn’t try to pull away, and for that he was grateful.
“This is more fun. Plus, no chaperone on earth could say I’m not being a good boy.”
Her laugh was as rich as the sweets in her hands. “Quinn Merriam, you were never a good boy.”
“No, I wasn’t. And you loved it.”
“Maybe.”
It was a playful response, but the look in her eyes told him it had brought up some heavy emotions, so he nudged her with his hip. “Come on. Admit it. You missed this.”
Because he surely had.
“Some days,” she said softly as they reached the kitchen.
He reluctantly let her go and went to the cabinet for a plate.
“Do you have a serving plate?” Francesca asked. “That’s a dinner plate.”
“Seriously? What is it with women and plates? They’re a flat surface you eat off.”
“Darling, sometimes I wonder about you.” She glared at him. “You know what a serving plate is.”
Yeah, he did. To appease her, he went over to the cabinet with the china, kept apart from the regular dinnerware. She washed her hands at the sink, and when he placed the gold plate in front of her, she opened the box and began to arrange the sweets.
“Is this one still your favorite?” he asked, gesturing to the pumpkin sweet covered with pistachio nuts, almonds, and walnuts.
“Yes. I’m surprised you remember.”
The catch in her voice told him how much it meant to her that he did. He picked the sweet up and held it to her mouth. Their eyes locked, and desire coiled in his belly as her gaze lowered to his mouth.
“I can’t eat the first sweet.” The rasp in her voice drove him wild. “They were a gift to you and your family.”
“Always polite,” he said, “so let’s see if you remember my favorite. I’ll take the first bite, freeing you from etiquette.”
“You liked all of them, but you loved the ones with dates covered in powdered sugar the best.”
“Mamoul, right?” His mouth went dry as she selected the sweet and held it a fraction of an inch from his lips, the scent of semolina and dates filling his nostrils.
“You remember the word.”
“I remember everything,” he said in a hoarse tone, and then he leaned forward and took the sweet into his mouth from her fingertips. The sugary pastry couldn’t appease his hunger for her. Not in a million years. And they both knew it.
Arousal was hot and ripe between them as he fed her the sweet, letting his fingertips linger against her lush, rosy lips. They were locked into watching each other, and it was one of the most erotic moments of his life.
He had to put his hands on her. And when he caught her hips and held them, she didn’t back away. No, she looked up at him with a hungry but direct stare that told him everything he needed to know.
She wanted him to kiss her.
His head lowered, watching her. Always watching her. She kept her eyes open too, as if she shared his need to memorize this moment. When he touched her lips, her breath rushed out slowly, and he knew to take his time. Desire was rising between them, and after so long, anything could snap the control holding it back.
When their lips curled into each other in what Quinn could only describe as the sweetest, most perfect kiss, it felt like a shard of glass was being forced out of his heart. Then she put her hands on his back, and the pain dissolved. Warmth began to return to that battered part of him, and he lifted his hand to cup her cheek as they kissed slowly, learning each other again after so long.
He seemed to sink into her, and in her total surrender, he was equally filled by her. It had always been so between them, and his head spun with relief and then awe that it should still be so.
She was the one who ended the kiss, but she pressed her cheek to his for a moment, her hands still clutching at his back, before she stepped away. She looked at him, her eyes wells of emotion.