Quinn's Woman by Susan Mallery Page A

experience had been textbook perfect. She’d been well fed, clothed, even fussed over on occasion. What no one had figured out was that by the time she was eleven, the damage had already been done.

    “I finished high school and went on to college. I had a partial scholarship, some grants and a couple of part-time jobs,” she continued. “I graduated and ended up here.”

    D.J.’s brief outline of her past was like looking at a black-and-white sketch and being asked to guess the colors that would be used later. There was a broad picture but no detail. Not an accident, Quinn thought. She didn’t want anyone to know about her life. He wasn’t special in that – he knew she kept the truth from everyone.

    He found himself wanting to discover all the nuances that had created the woman sitting across from him. Interesting, as he usually wanted to know only enough to maintain a very temporary relationship. Long weekends were generally the length of his emotional commitment. The less he knew about his women, the less chance he had to find something he didn’t like. He leaned toward affairs that touched his body and nothing more.

    With D.J. he was willing to risk knowing more. Was it because he sensed she would surprise him only in good ways’? He didn’t doubt that she would be a hell of a lover – just thinking about all that physical energy and determination channeled into sex was enough to make his breath hitch – but there was another layer that intrigued him. The person underneath the facade. Who was she?

    “What about you?” she asked. “How did you get from Possum Landing to Glenwood?”

    He pushed away his salad. “After high school, I did the college thing, too.”

    “Let me guess. You were a football star.” He leaned back in his seat and grinned. “I was very popular.”

    “I’ll bet. A cheerleader on each arm.” “On a good day.” He narrowed his gaze. “You would have looked hot in the outfit, but I can’t see you being a cheerleader.”

    “I was too busy winning at my own sports. So did you play in college?”

    “Some. After graduation I went into the military. Officer training.” “Of course.”

    A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. He responded in kind.

    “You’re impressed,” he said. “It’s not the uniform, it’s the power.”

    “Uh-huh. Keep talking.”

    “Once I had my commission, I was tapped for Special Forces. From there I was moved around.” “Doing things you probably can’t talk about.” “Right.” He wasn’t surprised she understood. “You said you rescue Americans from places they’re not supposed to be. How do they get there?” she asked.

    He grimaced. “With enough money, people can persuade a pilot to drop them off just about anywhere. Sometimes what starts out as a safe trip turns bad when there’s an unexpected regime change. Things get hot, and my team and I go in. Most of what I do doesn’t get covered in the local press.”

    “Of course not.” She played with her salad fork. “It must be nice to be away from all that for a few weeks. You don’t have to spend all your time looking over your shoulder.” He nodded.

    In the subtle lighting there were hints of red in her dark-brown hair. The loose curls brushed across her shoulders and down her chest, drawing his gaze to the cleavage exposed by her low-cut dress. Despite the lace covering her arms, he could still see the definition of her muscles.

    She wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met. “Don’t you want to ask if I’ve ever killed anyone?” he asked, because it was a question his dates eventually got around to.

    He should have known better. D.J. picked up her wine. “It wouldn’t occur to me that you haven’t. You wouldn’t get your kind of experience any other way. You are who and what you are for a reason.”

    The quiet acceptance in her voice tempted him. There had been a time when he’d thought normal might be possible. That he could find the one woman who