Two Wrongs Make a Right Read online

  Mom yelled from the door. “Tell your dad hello.”

  “Will do,” she said over her shoulder.

  After leaving, Quinn fumed for the next several miles. More affluent my ass. Did her mother think Brad left because of the way Quinn dressed? That was a ridiculous notion. Or was it? Maybe he’d wanted someone more sophisticated. A woman who subscribed to fashion magazines, studied art literature, and crooked a pinky when she drank tea. Quinn didn’t do those things, but she had plenty of good qualities. Hair. She had great hair. Thick and shiny. Boobs. Nice boobs. Not too big, but not too small. Skin. Damn good skin. She willed the negativity away and turned toward Dad’s to deliver the bread. A short visit with him always lifted her spirits, and after the encounter with Mom, they were at rock bottom.

  Hours later, back at home, she studied her outfit in the mirror, first turning one way, then the other. She liked the look. Mom didn’t have a clue what was in or out when it came to fashion. Besides, what did she expect her to wear on a Tuesday?

  “Hey, you two,” she said to Lucy and Ethel, who sprawled in the middle of the bed. “Do these jeans look bad? What about the big flowery shirt, in or out?” Neither cat moved. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  Quinn undressed, put on a pair of pajama pants and an old tee shirt, then went to the kitchen. She returned with a bag of potato chips, a bottle of water, and her laptop. Piling pillows behind her, she crawled onto the bed, and sat crossed legged. It was time to get serious and find a suitable man. She’d show her mom, and catch a guy that wanted more than arm candy. Damn her.

  To do that, a checklist of qualities might make an interesting article. Get your head straight about what type of partner you’re searching for and not waste time. Nobody was perfect, but guidelines would help. She’d tailor the list according to her tastes and encourage readers to do the same for theirs. Opening the laptop, she typed.

  If you’re single and want to end that status, I suggest you make a list of what you want in a mate. Mine are below. Your preferences may be different, but if you’re a member of a dating site, they will help keep you focused on making the right choices.

  She drew her brows together. What was the main thing she insisted on?

  1. Family-He must want children and this is non-negotiable.

  2. Faithfulness-Once he vows to forsake all others, I expect no less.

  3. Romance-I want a man who kisses me for no reason, and hugs me because he wants to touch me. Random phone calls just to hear my voice. Too much to ask? Absolutely not.

  Quinn opened the bag of chips and shoved one in her mouth. They were one of her weaknesses. She loved everything about them. Smell. Salt. Crunch. The grease on her fingers. She pulled a tissue from the box on the table, wiped her hands, took a sip of water, and continued.

  4. Humor-The ability to laugh at himself and make others laugh.

  5. Generosity-Must give to those less fortunate. Time or money.

  Lucy roused and groomed Ethel, licking her face. Quinn smiled at the display of affection.

  6. Animal lover-Or at least, animal liker. Especially cats.

  7. Ambitious-He doesn’t have to be focused on climbing the corporate ladder, but have enough desire to advance in some regard.

  Concentrate, she told herself. This would help keep her focused on qualified men. At her age, things couldn’t be left to chance. Her biological clock wasn’t just ticking, it was chiming like Big Ben.

  8. Intelligent-Book smart is good, but for me, common sense is more important.

  9. Sexually attractive-Let’s face it. I won’t get those kids I want if he doesn’t have this.

  10. Dominance/Assertive-The kind where he takes charge, or makes a stand to defend his beliefs. A man comfortable with who he is. One who can be strong, but not afraid to show his softer side.

  She read over the list. With some tweaking, it’d be ready to submit. If she met a guy with the majority of those points, she’d be happy. One thing was for sure. She didn’t want a man who did magic unless it was in the bedroom, and any sweet nothings whispered better not be in IM code.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The minute Dak pulled into his parents’ drive, an uneasy feeling crawled up his spine. He didn’t recognize the red Malibu. He’d already gotten an email from his sister earlier with pictures, so something had to be up with this. A setup hadn’t happened in a while, but now that Shelly was history, he feared the worst.

  He sat in his truck for a moment, contemplating his next move. Leave. Text he had to work late. Or better yet, he’d been there, saw the car, assessed the situation, and wanted no part of it. Sim would call later to confirm his horse’s ass status. Mom would call to apologize, and swear she had nothing to do with it. Dad would call to tell Dak to be nice to his sister and mother. Dealing with three phone calls would be as bad as sitting through a dinner with a surprise date. Screw it.

  He got out and lumbered across the lawn. Giggles and screams came from the backyard, so he walked around the corner of the house to the gate, and shoved it open. Rachel and Hannah ran to meet him. “Uncle Dak!”

  When they reached him, he slipped an arm around each girl, lifted them, and twirled. “How’re my two favorite nieces?”

  “We’re your only nieces,” Rachel said.

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot that.”

  “You’re silly,” Hannah said.

  “That’s why you love me.” He gave each girl a kiss on the cheek and set them back on the ground.

  Hanna’s big brown eyes widened. “Momma has a new girlfriend for you.”

  “I don’t need one, but how does she look? Is she missing any teeth?”

  The eight-year-old fell into a giggling fit, light brown curls flying in every direction. “Noooo.”

  “What about her hair? Does she have some or is she bald?”

  “She has long hair.”

  “She’s pretty.” A year older and a carbon copy of her younger sister, Rachel crossed her arms. “And nice. She’s my substitute teacher. Mom said you couldn’t do any better.”

  He arched a brow. “Did she now?” He leaned down to their eye level, putting a hand on each girl’s shoulder. “For your information, your momma doesn’t know everything.”

  The backdoor opened and the matchmaker stepped to the porch. “Come inside, Dak. I have someone I want you to meet.”

  He spun around and frowned. He loved his twin, but sometimes wanted to choke her. Today, he fought the urge with all he had. “Yeah. That’s what I hear.” He moved to join her, then whispered. “Didn’t you get my email? Not interested.”

  “Don’t get your boxers in a bunch. This isn’t the girl from the photos I sent. This is someone else. I’ll introduce you, and you can take it from there.”

  “You don’t get it. Rachel said she works at the school. That makes this awkward. If I’m not interested in her or if she doesn’t like me, then it’s an embarrassing situation for you, Rachel, and the teacher. Not good. Now I feel obligated to take her out.”

  As he finished the last remark, he was thankful he’d kept his voice quiet, because the guest appeared in the doorway. He lost his breath and excitement stirred his groin. She was knockout gorgeous.

  She gave a slow flutter of her lashes, then licked her lips, and stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Vanessa Collins. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Four different positions of how he wanted to have sex with her flashed in his mind at lightning speed. Damn, he was horny and from her come-and-get me look, so was she.

  ~~*~~

  Later that night, he marked two of those sex fantasies off his list. The beauty lay naked beside him, breathing steady and even. Her long blonde hair fanned out across the pillow, her face relaxed. Vanessa was bright and focused on her career. She’d just moved to the area and gotten hired for the fall term at Rachel’s school. She was also energetic in bed. Something he appreciated.

  She opened her eyes and yawned. “Is it morning?”

  “No. You want a drink? S
oda, wine, beer?”

  “Wine, please.”

  He swung his feet to the floor and pulled on his pajama pants. “Be right back.” A few minutes later, he returned with two glasses already filled and offered one.

  She lifted to a sitting position and piled pillows behind her back. “I hope we can do this again sometime.”

  He’d hoped to do it again within the next hour. “Sure. How’s Saturday night? There’s this great little restaurant a few blocks from here.”

  She took a long, slow sip then puckered her lips. “I’m not interested in dating. I’m engaged.”

  He choked on his wine. “What?”

  “Don’t worry. He won’t come charging through the door or hunt you down. He’s in Iraq. Been there eight months. I love him, but I need sex every now and again.”

  Dak’s stomach churned. He’d done a tour in Iraq and saw guys get Dear John letters and how it ripped them apart. “Get out.”

  She sat straighter. “What?”

  “You heard me. I thought you were unattached.”

  She scooted to the side of the bed, set her glass on the nightstand, and dressed. “Good grief. I haven’t led you on. I made it clear I’m not interested in a relationship.”

  “After the fact.”

  “Well, would it make you feel better if I said I was fantasizing about him the entire time you were on top of me?”

  “God. I can’t believe you. Just go.” He turned and left the room because he couldn’t stand to look at her another minute. Cold sweat beaded above his lip and a flashback he’d not had in months came in Technicolor. He shivered, and then went to get a glass of whiskey.

  An hour later, he was still awake with Vanessa on his mind. The casual sex meant nothing to her, but to her fiancé, it’d mean everything. The guy would blame Dak, and he’d been down that road. It was one he didn’t care to travel again. He understood that whole Karma thing and hoped Karma understood his innocence.

  The next morning, he went into the bathroom and started the shower. Placing his palms flat against the wall, hot water rained on him. He wished he could wash Vanessa out of his brain, but the thrust of her body, the touch of her hands, and the sound of her sighs drummed in his head. The one thing he hated most in life was a liar. She’d lied by omission, but in his book that carried the same weight as blatant deceit.

  He stepped out of the stall and dried himself off, then wiped the mirror with his forearm. Bloodshot eyes told the story of a sleepless night, but not the guilt that settled behind them. He rubbed his fingers across the scar on his chest. A half-inch in the other direction, he’d be dead because of another woman’s lie. When he closed his eyes, he could still see the beautiful blonde who’d approached him in the bar asking to share his table. Hours later, they’d shared more than drinks.

  It’d been ten years, and he wondered if the memory would ever fade. The stranger’s face flashed in his head and Dak recalled how he’d not felt threatened by the man until he raised the gun and fired. No time to react, and there’d been no place to hide.

  He pulled on his boxers, then went to the closet. He didn’t keep a full wardrobe at the condo, but enough for a few days. Planning to steer clear of the place and women for a while might help erase the previous night’s mistake. If any good came from the error in judgment, it was a hard lesson learned. In the future, he’d be damned sure to establish a woman’s relationship status before he took her to bed.

  Once dressed, he went to the kitchen, stuck two pieces of bread in the toaster, and started the coffee. When the toast popped up, he slathered on butter and spread some of his mother’s strawberry jam on thick. Then he thought of Sim. She’d set him up and would take responsibility. The blunder might convince her to stop trying to find him a soul mate. If that happened, at least some good would come from his recklessness.

  He shook his head to clear it and tried to concentrate on work. Soon, he’d meet with the top guys at Media Corp. for a second time. The appointment should give him a good idea if his job remained intact.

  His phone sounded, and he grimaced when he saw his sister’s name. He steeled his shoulders. “Hello.”

  “How’d it go last night?”

  “Did you know she’s in a relationship with a soldier?”

  Sim’s voice elevated an octave. “What?”

  “Yeah. Something she forgot to mention.”

  “Oh God, I am so sorry. I would have never invited her to Mom’s if I’d known.”

  “Let this be a lesson. Stop fixing me up. I mean it. I’m more than capable of finding women on my own.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have asked. I never dreamed…”

  “Not your fault. At least the guy is out of the country. The last thing I need is another jealous man to come gunning for me.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I’ve got to go.”

  “Wait. Are we still on for our weekly lunch on Thursday?”

  “Yeah. I’m not mad at you. This is my fault. I should have asked her. See you later.” He ended the call, put the incident out of his mind, and tried to regain his good mood from yesterday, before Vanessa, the liar.

  Two hours later, after sitting behind stalled traffic on his route to work, Dak angled into his marked parking space. On the elevator ride up to his office, he attempted to concentrate on the ad campaigns waiting on his desk, but Vanessa kept appearing. Each time, he’d shake the thought away, only to have it surface again. Fresh emotions like anger took time to age. Today would be difficult, and the best way to handle it was to bury his head in work.

  “Good morning, Helen.”

  His secretary glanced up and smiled. “You want a cup of coffee, you look as if you need it. Rough night?”

  For the past twelve years, other than his mom and sister, Helen was the woman he counted on to keep his business life in order. He wondered why all women couldn’t be more like her—dependable and trustworthy. “That’s an understatement.”

  She disappeared around the corner then returned moments later with cup in hand, set it on his desk, and settled herself into the chair across from him. “Want to talk?”

  He pulled open his desk drawer, retrieved a bottle of Ibuprofen and shook four tablets into his palm. He put them in his mouth, tossed his head back, and swallowed them with a big gulp. The liquid seared all the way down his throat, and he hoped the combination burned his headache away. He rubbed his neck. “I made a mistake last night.”

  Helen lowered her head and peered over the top of her glasses. He didn’t much feel like a lecture, but he’d opened the can of worms, so whatever she dished out, he had to take.

  “It involve a woman?”

  He nodded, and hoped his lack of details ended the conversation, then remembered in all the time she’d worked for him, that had never happened. Before the age of fifty, she’d outlived two husbands so advice was her strong point, especially in the romance department. “What happened? You get drunk and go to bed with a ten and wake up with a two?”

  He laughed. That Texas drawl of hers could make the alphabet sound funny. He regained his composure and started to answer, but Helen held up her hand.

  “No need to tell me. It’s none of my business, but if you need advice, I’m here for you.”

  She rose from the chair and offered her best motherly smile. The one he’d grown to love. He must look bad for her to give up so easily. “Thanks. Maybe when the caffeine starts working, and my head is clear, I’ll take you up on that offer.”

  She headed to the door and spoke over her shoulder. “The yellow folder on your desk has the research results you needed. I’ll bring you another cup.”

  Dang. If she were his age, he’d marry her, and make everybody happy. He loved that she didn’t consider bringing him coffee sexist. Hell, she liked taking care of him. Yeah, he needed to find a younger Helen. He shouldered back in his chair and followed a ray of light across the room, as it glinted against the
ten crystal award plaques lining his bookshelves. That recognition, along with his track record, should be enough to secure his job. But according to the rumors, he wasn’t sure they’d save him.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Things were looking up. Quinn’s editor liked the articles she’d submitted so far, and if readers left positive comments, the Ask Alice column would be hers. He’d said as much. With it came a big raise and a secure future. Barring a scandal involving the mistreatment of children, animals or old people, she’d have the by-line for eternity.

  She logged on to Marriage Minded and read over her latest selections, then listed them by their monikers. Singing Cowboy, Skywriter, Homeboy, Animal Addict, and Medicine Man. Each profile offered information that caught her eye.

  She put The Chosen Five on her calendar. First up, Cowboy. He had written, I’m a hopeless romantic and an old school gentleman when it comes to women. I love movies and music. Quinn loved that. She appreciated a man who opened a door or pulled out a chair. Besides, this was Texas. What was not to love about a cowboy?

  In his last email, he’d suggested the location for their date, which was fine by her. This was an opportunity to try new places, and just because there’d been no love connection with Walt or Stargazer, Cowboy could be The One.

  In choosing the five, she’d used the elimination process of her compatibility rules. Some might judge the approach cold and calculating, but that’s not the way she saw it. Women sometimes got caught up in a guy’s looks or wealth, and forgot what was important in a relationship. The list served as a reminder. Some women flew by the seats of their pants, but if they were serious to find true love, and not just a good time, priorities needed to be in place. Especially for women in their thirties. Clocks were ticking. Hers—double time.

  Pushing the laptop aside, she went to the closet to choose an outfit. He’d asked to meet at one of the newest country bars in Austin, Save a Horse. The rest of the lyric, ride a cowboy, made her stomach clench. She hoped it wasn’t a subliminal message. She didn’t have western boots, but had a pair of knee-high black suede with some studs around the top. They’d work.