The Mighty Quinns: Jamie

She pulled the car to a stop and turned off the ignition. Grabbing her bag, she hopped out and jogged up to the front door. Regan had her own key to the lodge, but she usually announced her arrival by ringing the bell.

“Nana?” she called as she walked inside. “Nana, it’s Regan.”

A few seconds later, Ceci walked in from the rear of the house. Her appearance was shocking, causing Regan to gasp out loud. Since her husband’s death, her grandmother had gradually lost her flair for fashion, dressing in simple clothes in somber colors, pulling her ash-blond hair back into a tidy knot. But tonight she was wearing a flowing caftan in neon pink and tangerine orange. Her hair was styled in soft curls around her face and Regan was stunned at how young she looked.

“Nana,” she whispered. “You’re...stunning.”

Ceci smiled, then twirled around. “This old thing? I haven’t worn it in years.”

“You did your hair.”

“Is the style all right? I know it’s not fashionable to tease one’s hair anymore, but I couldn’t help myself.”

“You look lovely.” Regan hesitated for a split second before she asked the obvious question. Why had Ceci gone to so much trouble? Regan drew in a slow breath. “What’s the occasion?” she asked.

“I met a lovely young man at the hardware store a few weeks ago,” Ceci said. “He’s working on a very important project. Changing the way we think about housing. He has some papers for me to sign, so I’ve invited him for dinner tonight. Since you’re here, you can join us. Why don’t you go tidy up while I get things ready? It wouldn’t hurt for you to fix your hair and put on a little lipstick.”

“Is this the man you want to lease Maple Point to?”

“Walt Murphy should mind his own business. And so should you. If I choose to lease or sell Maple Point, then that’s my decision—not yours.”

“Do you even know who this guy is, Nana? He could be a con man, a swindler, one of those creeps that preys on elderly women with money. A wolf in sheep’s clothing!”

“I haven’t lost my all my senses,” Ceci said. “I checked with our family attorney and Mr. Quinn seems to be exactly who he says he is. I never would have invited him to stay with me if I thought he was some sort of...ne’er-do-well.”

“You invited him to stay here?” Regan asked.

“I offered to rent him the guest cottage. I could use the extra money.”

“Nana, there’s no reason for you to have to take in boarders. You have plenty of money. And if you’re lonely you can always call me. I’ll come and spend the night.”

“I know, dear,” she said. “But you’re busy with your own life. And I need something to do with mine. Something to look forward to.”

“And that’s serving dinner to some stranger?”

“He’s not a stranger,” Ceci said. “He’s a lovely man and I’m sure you’ll agree when you meet him.”

“Which I plan to do right now,” Regan said. “When will he get here?”

“Oh, he’s here already. He’s upstairs,” Ceci said. “I thought it would be nice if we dressed for dinner. Your grandfather and I used to do that and it always made dinner seem so much more special. He didn’t have a dinner jacket, but I found an old one of your grandfather’s and he said he’d make do.”

Regan groaned inwardly. It was clear her grandmother was already infatuated with this man. Dinner jackets and intimate meals for two? Someone needed to put a stop to this before Ceci got hurt, and it seemed like Regan was the only one capable of doing it. “I’m just going to go upstairs and introduce myself to him,” she said.

“He’ll be down in a few seconds. Surely you can wait.”

“No,” Regan said. “I don’t think this can wait.” With that, she turned on her heel and started for the stairs.

When she glanced back at her grandmother, she saw a worried expression on her soft features. If this man was hoping to take advantage of her grandmother, Regan would find out. There were so many unscrupulous people in the world, people capable of ruining another person’s life, people capable of stealing a person’s identity. She would never allow that to happen to her grandmother. No matter how handsome or charming the man was.

Regan climbed the log stairs to the second floor and one by one searched the six bedrooms. She found his things scattered on the bed in the last room and she stepped inside to take a look.

The sound of running water filtered through the bathroom door and she listened to it with one ear, realizing that her time to do some snooping would be limited. Regan picked up his wallet and began to rifle through it. She found his driver’s license and pulled it out to examine the photo. The breath froze in her throat.

“Oh, my God,” she murmured. “It’s him.”

Though her grandmother had said he was handsome, she’d assumed he would be a little older. The man’s driver’s license revealed him to be only twenty-seven years old, and in the picture he possessed a masculine beauty that any woman would be grateful to have in her bed.

She found herself staring at the photograph, trying to gauge the intent of the person behind the pale blue eyes. There was nothing she could tell from the license, however; nothing could be revealed beyond the fact that his parents had made a genetically perfect male.

He had nearly five hundred dollars in his wallet, along with a stack of credit cards. From the rest of the contents, she discovered he had a reliable dry cleaner, a favorite coffee shop and tickets for a Blizzard’s hockey game against New York in early December.

Regan returned the wallet to where she’d found it and picked up his phone. But to her dismay, he’d turned it off. She pushed the power button and waited for the screen to light up. Certainly she’d be able to learn more from his old texts and his photo library...

* * *

JAMIE GRABBED A towel from the pile beside the shower and wrapped it around his waist. He probably shouldn’t have taken the time for a shower, considering Celia was waiting with dinner downstairs, but he’d spent most of the day in the car, and the marble shower seemed like the perfect place to work out the kinks in his neck and spine.

He opened the bathroom door and stopped short when he found a woman sitting on the end of the bed, holding his phone. She glanced his way and he realized that he knew her. “It’s you,” he murmured, recognizing the woman from the road that morning.

She stared at him with suspicious eyes. “And it’s you. Would you like to tell me what you’re doing here, in my grandmother’s house?”

“I think the more important question is what are you doing with my phone?”

She jumped up and dropped his phone on the bed as if it were made of fire. Her gaze slowly drifted from his damp hair to his naked chest and finally to the towel that hung low on his hips.

He chuckled softly. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”

She turned toward the door, obviously torn between her desire to escape and her curiosity about the stranger standing half-naked in front of her. At the last moment, she decided to stay.

“Regan,” she finally said. “I’m Regan Macintosh. I’m Celia’s granddaughter. My father is Celia’s middle son.” She held out her hand, then realized his right hand was holding up his towel.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Regan,” he said. He made sure the towel was knotted and shook her hand. “I’m James Quinn, but everyone calls me Jamie.”

She glanced down at where their fingers had become entwined, her brow furrowing as if she was confused how they’d gotten that way.

She forced a smile and Jamie waited for her to explain herself. Then, suddenly, she straightened her spine and looked him directly in the eyes.

“I think we’ve had enough of this,” she said, waving her hand in the direction of his bare chest. “I’m sure you find it quite useful to wander about half-naked. I’m sure it makes all the ladies a little breathless and dizzy. But to me it all seems a bit desperate.”

“Desperate?” Jamie chuckled softly. “How so?”

“Men like you need to use their best assets to their advantage,” she explained. “It’s quite apparent that you have an incredibly hot body. But I’m sure that my grandmother will be immune to such a blatant ploy.”

“A blatant ploy?” he murmured. “What exactly do you think I’m doing here?”

“I assume you’re here to hustle my grandmother out of her life savings. Isn’t that what men like you use your bodies to do?”

A laugh burst from Jamie’s throat as he realized the conclusion she’d jumped to. “You think I’m a gigolo?”