Just the Thought of You

Just the Thought of You

By Tinnean

Dedication:

This is for Bob, because…Bob. It will always be for him.

This is also for Tk Paige. Her comment that Mother’s Day would be a good release day gave me the impetus to complete this novel sooner rather than later. (Even though Mother’s Day has passed.) Thank you, Tk!

But most of all, this is for Caleb, the inspiration for the Balm, for making my friend Tony so happy.

Acknowledgment:

Many thanks to Gail Morse for the amazing amount of help she offers and for always being only a PM away.

Thanks also to Tisha, to Liz Bichmann, my wonderful editor, and to Jeff Adkins for the formatting and the consistently gratifying covers.

One final note:

I’ve mentioned All My Children a number of times in this book. I’d like to take the opportunity to thank the cast of this soap opera for the joy they brought to my mom’s last months. This is for her and for them.

* * * *

Chapter 1

Saturday morning might not have been the best day weather-wise—it was damp and overcast, with the hint of rain—but I was spending it with the two people I cared most about in the world—Quinton Mann and his mother, Portia.

And okay, so Gregor Novotny, Portia’s chef, chauffeur, and bodyguard, was coming along. I could put up with him for Portia’s sake.

The plan was to tour the house Quinn had inherited, but first we were going to Charmaine for brunch. I’d never been, but Quinn raved about the quality of the food, and Portia agreed with him.

She also mentioned how the wrought iron tables and chairs in the courtyard off the street looked so quaint, but because of the weather, they weren’t an option.

We entered the restaurant, where Quinn had made reservations—good thing, because even though it was Saturday, the place was already filling up.

Okay, I said as I set aside the cane I’d been using for the past few days and sat down beside Quinn.

I’d had to use a crutch after I took a bullet to the thigh a couple of weeks ago, but I was a fast healer—it often surprised people how fast my broken bones or bullet wounds mended. Although my leg did tend to ache at the most inconvenient times.

As for the carved ebony cane, it was more than it appeared to be. Romero, head of R&D at the WBIS, had supplied me with it. A twist to the handle, and it turned into a sword that was tipped with the venom of the species of fer-de-lance that lived on a small, abandoned island off the coast of Brazil. One of its names was Ilha da Queimada Grande, but it was also called Snake Island, due to the humongous number of reptiles that inhabited it.

I glanced at the waiter to find he was staring at Quinn as if Quinn was his last hope of heaven. If he started drooling…What’s good? I kept my tone cool, but I wanted to tear his head off and shove it up his ass.

The waiter proceeded to rattle off the specials while he handed us menus, but his gaze was fastened on Quinn and he never once took it off him.

***

"I’m not taking you back to Charmaine. Ever," I snarled as I hobbled to the car. Novotny was driving, since Quinn’s Jag was too snug for four adults and my Dodge was in its garage at Aspen Reach. Besides, no one drove the Dodge but me.

Mark, he’s harmless, Quinn said patiently.

Yeah, well, we’d talk about that tonight.

That waiter was coming on to you. He’d brought my lover a Bloody Mary, which Quinn hadn’t ordered and which I’d taken from the waiter. What pissed me off was it wasn’t half-bad. In front of me.

See? I told you. Novotny had to butt in. This is your fault.

Mine? It was a good thing he hadn’t poked me, or I’d have knocked him down. How do you figure that?

Before Quinn started hanging around with you, nobody made passes at him.

Which was very disheartening, Gregor. Quinn’s expression was mournful. I felt so…unloved.

Well, they were idiots, I said. And their loss is my gain. And tonight I’d make him feel loved.

Chris is a sweet boy, Portia assured me, and I stared at her, at a loss. How could she—But then she continued, He’s not right for Quinton, but I’m sure he’ll find someone someday.

I blew out a relieved breath. It was still hard to believe a lady like Portia Mann would have no objections to a guy like me being involved with her son.

Quinn opened the back passenger door of the Town Car. Just as I was about to angle myself in, a strident female voice called out.

Quinton!

Quinn went very still. Damn, he muttered under his breath. He turned and said in his cool Ice Man voice, Hello, Susan. How are you?

I’m fine, no thanks to you. Mitchell and Barbara McVeigh told me about running into you after Christmas, and you were with a man. She glared at Mark. Is this the faggot you dumped me for? Were you gay all the time we were seeing each other? Do I need to have myself and my fiancé tested?

The correct term is bisexual, and you needn’t get tested on my account. We never had sex, if you’ll recall.

She turned an ugly shade of red and drew back her hand to slap him. Quinn, being a gentleman, would have allowed it.

On the other hand, I was no gentleman. I caught her wrist and closed my fingers around it. Her eyes widened, and she whimpered and tugged futilely.

Mark.

I let her go, and she stumbled backward and would have lost her balance, if Novotny hadn’t caught her. She jerked herself away, glared at him over her shoulder, then turned her glare on me.

Which didn’t faze me in the least.

Listen to me, woman. Whether Quinn went with me or anyone else, you and he wouldn’t have worked out. You’ve got someone, so leave Quinn alone. And just remember this—I have friends all over town. If it gets back to me that you’re bad-mouthing him, I’ll come after you.

You’re—you’re threatening me? I’ll…I’ll report you to the authorities!

Y’know something? You’re boring me. Go away. Portia, do you want to sit in the back with me or in the front with Novotny?

In the front, Mark.

Novotny bounded forward and opened the door for her. I was surprised he didn’t insist she sit in the backseat because it would have been safer.

Quinn was speaking to Susan Burkhart in such a quiet voice I couldn’t make out what he was saying.

Quinn, get in the car, would you? We’ve got stuff to do.

Of course, Mark. Susan, I won’t say it was nice seeing you again, but I do wish you every happiness.

She gave a breathless little shriek, and Quinn turned his back on her. She saw I was watching, and she changed her mind about whatever she’d planned to do. Instead, she bolted down the sidewalk.

First smart move she’d made since she’d accosted Quinn.

He waited until I settled myself in the backseat, then went around to the other side and got in.

I’ll say one thing about having you around, Novotny muttered as he shoved the key into the ignition and started the engine with an annoyed twist. Things are never dull.

I wasn’t sure if I should be insulted or not.

* * * *

Chapter 2

Novotny parked the Town Car in the long driveway of the house Quinn had inherited. I want to check out the garage, he said. Portia, will you join me?

Of course.

Novotny took an umbrella, and they headed along the driveway. It wasn’t long before they were out of sight around the far side of the huge, sprawling house. Six thousand square feet that consisted of three stories, six bedrooms, a loft, and six and a half baths. There were outbuildings in addition to the house, and it was all set on two and a half acres.

Jesus, Quinn, I growled as I got a good look at the condition of the house.

It was over a hundred years old, and frankly, it looked it. Shutters hung lopsidedly on rusted hinges, and windows were cracked or broken; shingles had fallen from the roof; trees encroached to within feet of its foundation; and ivy grew up the front walls, enclosing the porch like a shroud. The only thing that was new was the lock on the front door.

I braced my weight on the cane. I thought your cousin said this place wasn’t in bad shape.

Possibly she’d become so used to its condition that it struck her that way.

Possibly…but I wondered.

Heather Snow was the daughter of Nigel Mann’s half-brother, which made her Quinn’s cousin. After Addison Mann had kicked the bucket, she’d inherited the house that had belonged to a Mann from the time it had been built, shortly before the Spanish American War.

The house came to Quinn after Ms. Snow, the victim of a hit-and-run accident, passed away—something I’d have to look into because she was Quinn’s cousin and Quinn cared. And in addition, that accident sounded hinky.

Quinn looked from me to the steps that led up to the porch, and the corner of his mouth quirked in a grin. Shall I carry you?

That yanked me out of my sour mood, and I grinned back at him. Over the threshold, you mean? Nice thought, but… It might be 2003, but marriage wasn’t legal for same-sex couples in this country, dammit. That was too maudlin, so I said, I think it might be a little uncomfortable for you to carry me. I was six foot three and weighed a buck ninety-five, whereas Quinn stood five ten and tipped the scales at about thirty pounds less.

Are you questioning my ability to tote you up a few stairs and across a porch?

Never.

Good. He took a step toward me, and I held my right hand out to prevent him from coming closer.

Hold on, Superman. Let’s just put that thought on hold.

For the time being? Quinn’s eyes crinkled in amusement. All right, Lois. Let’s go—

Novotny and Portia rejoined us. The carriage house is in seriously bad shape, Quinn. The local kids must have made it their hangout. There are empty beer bottles and… Color flooded his cheeks and he glanced sideways at Portia. He straightened his shoulders, ready to bite the bullet. Used condoms were scattered all over the place.

Portia squeezed his arm. It’s all right, dear one. I’ve seen worse.

He stared at her, horrified. When?

She smiled and shook her head. A long time ago and in a different country. She didn’t look like she was going to tell us, which was too bad. She was one fascinating woman.

Watch your step, I advised her. This walk is in pretty rough condition as well. And then as luck would have it, one of the brick pavers, which was out of alignment with the others, caught the tip of my cane. I swore as I felt myself start to topple, but Quinn snatched my arm and kept me from falling on my face.

At one time, I would have bitten his head off for babying me like that, but we’d been together for more than a year. I’d seen him through a kidnapping, through a betrayal by a director he worked under, and the aftermath of his mother’s car accident; he’d seen me through a bullet wound to my upper arm as well as my thigh, and it was kind of nice.

Do you think it’s worth saving? Quinn made sure I was steady before letting me go, but he stayed close, just in case it happened again.

Thanks, babe. I leaned down and kissed his cheek.

You’re welcome. Have to keep you safe, don’t I?

Someone will have to inspect it, Novotny said loudly.

You want to put that on the list, Portia?

She smiled at me. Of course, Mark. She took a small notebook and a fountain pen from her purse, and jotted that down.

Let’s go see what the interior of the house looks like. Quinn paced slowly at my elbow, watching to see if I could handle the steps.

Once at the top of the steps, we crossed to the front door, and Quinn took a key ring from his pocket. He had to go through a couple of the keys before he found the right one, and he glanced at me sideways.

What?

You’re not going to mock me for not immediately choosing the correct key?

You actually think I’d do something like that to you? Oh, Quinton, I’m cut to the quick.

Novotny snorted, but Quinn just laughed and tugged gently on my ear. I don’t know what I was thinking. He turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. It made a spooky, creaky sound.

Y’know, all this needs is a rainstorm and for it to be midnight.

A dark and stormy night? Unseen by either Novotny or Portia, Quinn pursed his lips and sent me a silent kiss, and in spite of myself, I could feel a blush creep up my cheeks. He grinned and turned toward Portia. Mother?

I’ll put it on the list, sweetheart. Oil the hinges of the front door. She studied the door. Perhaps replace or restore it?

I imagine we’ll need to see which is required.

We entered the foyer, and Novotny flipped the light switch by the door. Of course there was nothing. The electricity had been off for more than a year.

Good thing we came prepared, I said as I pulled a flashlight from my coat pocket.

Novotny curled his lip at me and took a flashlight from his pocket. Indeed.

Well, shit.

Quinn closed the door behind us, although there wasn’t much need to do that. It was actually warmer outside than inside the house.

Portia glanced down at the worn runner. Novotny stooped and pulled it back. The hardwood floor seems to be in good condition.

We walked down the corridor and gazed through an arched doorway.

This was the formal parlor, Portia said, a tinge of sadness in her voice.

Let’s go take a closer look.

Quinn stepped into the huge room. I hobbled in after him, and I could understand Portia’s sadness. The room was a disaster. Except for a ratty, tattered sofa, it was empty of furniture. The bricks surrounding the fireplace were soot-stained. The wallpaper above it was also stained.

Portia sighed. Something else to go on the list. Have the fireplace flue and chimney inspected and cleaned.

Strips of the discolored paper were peeling on either side of the fireplace, no doubt due to water damage—there were water stains on the ceiling as well as mold in the corners.

Portia shook her head. Your father and I weren’t here frequently, but this was once a lovely house, and it’s a shame to see it reduced to this.

I never saw it, Quinn murmured.

No, Addison extended an invitation to us only once after their father died, but we had to attend an official function and couldn’t make it. He took it personally and never invited us again.

He sounded like a real asshole.

A curving staircase led up to the second floor. The treads were scuffed and dust bunnies collected in the corners. Beyond it was what promised to be a more casual living space.

Portia sighed again. According to your father, his mother had the most beautiful Christmas tree placed in that corner, she told Quinn. All the lovely ornaments belonged to her family, as well as the crèche that was a hundred years old at that time. Those were the only fond memories your father had of this house. Mr. Mann invited us for Christmas the first year we were married, and I asked him if we might have them, or at least some of them, but he refused.

Like father like son. Another asshole, I muttered under my breath so Portia wouldn’t hear. She was a modern woman, but she was also a lady, and I tried to keep my swearing to a minimum in front of her, just like the other men of the family…

I’m part of this family. It had been years—more than thirty—since I’d been a part of any family.

And Quinn wanted to marry me. Of course we couldn’t, but he’d said he wasn’t taking anything other than a yes from me.

A man like Quinn, wanting to be tied to me legally…He’d first brought it up in the small parlor in his mother’s house in Great Falls the other day, and if it hadn’t been for the bullet hole in my leg, as well as where we were, I’d have jumped his bones right there.

Just then, Quinn must’ve seen I had something on my mind. He ran his hand down the arm that hadn’t been shot, and gripped my fingers for a second. Then he let me go.

I don’t blame Addison’s daughter, Portia said. She walked further into the room, and Novotny trailed after her. This didn’t happen overnight. It took a very long time. She continued making notes while Novotny wandered around the room, shaking his head.

What do we do? Quinn scrubbed his face. How do we repair this kind of damage?

I tipped his chin up. Trust me, okay?

Do you know someone for the job, Mark? Portia asked, and I grinned over at her. Of course you do. I have to say I was very impressed by the work your interior designer did on your condo. She’d been with me when I’d first gone to look at it, and it had been so…pink. The next time she’d seen it had been at Thanksgiving, after she’d gotten out of the hospital and Theo had finished up with it.

Theo is just a friend who happens to have a talent for design.

Well, he did a much better job than that designer I referred to Quinton.

Yeah? I’d always thought Quinn’s town house had a cool, elegant air to it. Not exactly to my taste, but then the designer hadn’t been creating the space for me. And of course she’d probably seen Quinn as Quinn wanted the world to see him, as the Ice Man.

Really, Mother? I wish you’d let me know before now. I would have made some serious alterations.

Why didn’t you, sweetheart?

I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.

Portia burst into laughter.

Seriously. Quinn turned to me to explain. It was my first home, and Mother was so thrilled. In fact, I thought she was indecently happy to see me out of the house, he teased.

She patted his cheek. I’m a very good actress. I didn’t want you to leave, but of course I knew you needed to be on your own.

He folded her into a hug. I love you, Mother.

I love you too, sweetheart.

I’m gonna check out the butler’s pantry, Novotny said. Uh…I assume a place this big and this old has one?

Of course. It should be right through there if I recall correctly. Portia indicated a narrow passageway that led off to the right.

Novotny approached the passageway with cautious steps, giving a bounce or two every few paces. Are we sure this floor hasn’t rotted out?

Quinn sighed. Something else we’ll need to have an inspector look into.

Normally I’d taunt Novotny about the floor being unable to hold him—not that he was overweight, but just to piss him off—but I had other things on my mind. While Quinn and his mother examined the parlor more closely, I pulled out my cell phone and hit six on speed dial.

As luck would have it, I got the answering machine.

"Hi. You’ve reached the