The Mighty Quinns: Rogan

“You’re sitting alone in a nearly deserted airport at midnight and you’re crying. It was just a wild guess.”

Her cheeks warmed and she wondered if he was trying to pick her up. Nothing about her demeanor would lead him to think that she was open to that. Maybe he had some kind of white-knight complex that compelled him to help people in need. He smiled and a shiver raced down her spine. Or maybe he was just a nice guy showing a bit of concern for a stranger.

“I’m just taking a moment to vent,” she explained. “This whole day has been one disaster after another.” She drew a ragged breath. “I just had to release some of the stress.” Claudia held her arms out and shook her hands, closing her eyes as she worked the tension out of her muscles. When she opened her eyes again, she found him staring at her.

“Stress can kill you,” he said. “Can I get you anything? A cup of tea? Something to eat?”

Oh, gosh, he really was sweet. Either that, or he was some sleazy lothario, cruising airports at midnight, looking for vulnerable women. No, that couldn’t be it. He was far too handsome to need to resort to such brazen tactics.

“I’m really quite fine,” she said. “A few more moments and then I’ll get back to my group.”

“Your group?” He chuckled softly. “You wouldn’t be Dr. Mathison, would you?”

“I would,” she said. “How did you—” Claudia paused. “And you’re Rogan Quinn?” She forced a smile. “Of course you are.” Fresh tears pushed at the corners of her eyes. “This is just fabulous. I’m supposed to be in control and here you find me blubbering like an idiot.”

Rogan shook his head. “You don’t look like an idiot. And sometimes we can all use a good blubber,” he teased. “To be honest, you’ve seemed wound a bit tight when we’ve spoken on the phone.”

“What?”

“This trip is supposed to be fun. I see I have my work cut out for me.”

“I’m not the one who needs help,” she said, sending him a defiant glare.

“Oh, but I’m sure I can do you some good, as well,” Rogan replied. “Loosen up. You’re on holiday.”

“I am quite loose, thank you very much.” Claudia wiped the last of her tears from her cheeks. “And I’m not on holiday. This is work for me. No different from my therapy sessions in the office.”

“Work or not, I’ve made reservations at a nearby hotel,” he said. “I figured a decent night’s rest would be just what the doctor ordered.” He held out his hand. “Come on, then. Pull yourself together and we’ll move on.”

She placed her hand in his. It would have been rude to ignore the kind gesture. And he really was trying to help. But Claudia wasn’t prepared for her reaction to his touch. Her heart skipped a beat and for a moment, she forgot to breathe.

It had been such a long time since she’d been with a man, so long in fact that she’d forgotten what desire felt like. But that wasn’t what she was feeling here, was it? Yes, he was handsome and sexy and had a smile that could melt anyone’s reserve. But they’d just met.

She got to her feet and managed to find the wherewithal to speak. “Thank you.” She gently pulled her hand from his, but as they walked down the concourse toward the baggage claim, he smoothed his palm across the small of her back.

They weren’t in a crowd. There was no need to touch her, yet he seemed quite comfortable doing so. Stop! This was crazy, trying to analyze his every behavior and her accompanying reaction. He was simply being polite. But, oh, it felt so delicious to experience this excitement again.

“So, you had a pleasant flight?” he asked.

Claudia laughed out loud. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“I was just making conversation.”

“Mr. Quinn, I—”

“You can call me Rogan.”

No way. Referring to him in such a familiar way would make it even more difficult to keep her thoughts professional. Rogan. It was an unusual name...for an unusual man.

There was something about him that was magnetic. A charisma, a charm that was completely irresistible. When he smiled, she felt as if she were the only woman in the world.

She’d known men like him. They’d always been the ex-boyfriends or ex-husbands of her clients. Men who could make a woman fall in love so hard that she lost all ability to make rational decisions. Rogan Quinn was a dangerous sort.

“Perhaps you should go on ahead and arrange transportation to the hotel,” she suggested, hoping for a moment alone.

“I have our van waiting in the car park. Everything is taken care of.”

Claudia felt all of her tension slowly dissipate. She fought the urge to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him. Though she wasn’t usually prone to displays of public affection, this man was competent and organized and quite pleasant. He might be a flirt, but he’d just rescued her from disaster. He deserved some type of compensation.

“This will definitely be reflected in your tip,” she murmured.

As soon as she said it, Claudia regretted the backhanded compliment. It made him sound so mercenary, when he’d only been trying to please her with his professionalism.

“It’s all part of the job,” Rogan replied.

She gave him a quick glance, trying to read his expression. He didn’t appear to be insulted. Claudia prided herself on her ability to anticipate problems and deal with them before they turned into disasters. To him, she must look like an incompetent boob. “I hope this delay won’t cause too many problems with the itinerary.”

“I think, from now on, we need to keep the itinerary as flexible as possible.”

“But everything is planned. I want to make efficient use of our—”

He reached out and pressed a finger to her lips. “Loose. Easy. Go with the flow. I’ve got it all covered. Trust me.”

Claudia nodded silently. She wasn’t known for her flexibility. Every last minute of her day, her week, her life, was planned. She didn’t do anything unless it appeared in her date book. But she wasn’t beyond experiencing something new, moving out of her own comfort zone. Maybe this trip could be a learning experience for her as well as her clients.

They walked together to the baggage claim carousel and found her patients huddled in a group, deep in discussion. When they saw Claudia, they quickly pulled apart, shooting her nervous looks. Emma stepped forward, squaring her shoulders as she prepared to speak. “We’re tired and we’re hungry,” she said. She glanced around at her compatriots and then all nodded their agreement. “We want to go to a hotel and we want separate rooms.”

“And room service,” Eddie Findlay, Claudia’s agoraphobe, whispered. “I’m not eating in a public restaurant.”

“I’ll need a ground-floor room,” Leticia Macullum added. “If there’s a fire, I won’t be jumping from any windows.

“No lifts me for me,” Millie Zastrow added. “And I have to have a large room. With big windows. That open.”

“But, Millie, I thought we’d conquered your fear of lifts,” Claudia said. “Remember our coping mechanism? The counting game?”

“No lifts,” Millie insisted, crossing her arms in front of her.

“I’m sure we can accommodate all your requests,” Rogan said in a genial tone. “Let’s gather up your luggage. I’ll just go fetch the van and we’ll be off.”

Emma smiled in triumph. “Good. We’re all very exhausted from the trip.”

“Do you know how long it’s been since the establishment was fumigated? I—I have a problem with insects.”

Rogan turned to Marshall Block. “I’m not sure. But I’ll ask when we arrive.”

Claudia stood back and watched as Rogan got them all moving toward the exit. She knew he was an experienced guide. That was why she’d requested him. But she hadn’t expected him to be so patient and understanding. He seemed to sense the mood of the group and adjust his tone accordingly. Surprisingly, the entire group fell into line behind him.

Rogan only had to address a few of their concerns about the service record of his van before he managed to get everyone safely inside. As they drove to the hotel, Claudia studied his profile in the darkened interior. His rugged good looks would cause any red-blooded woman’s gaze to linger a bit longer.