The Mighty Quinns: Malcolm

“Then I suppose there’s nothing to stop you from kissing me again.”

He grinned. “There was nothing stopping me before,” Mal replied.

“All right, then, carry on,” she said.

With a low growl, he shook his head. “I think maybe we should go inside and have dinner.”

Amy drew a deep breath. “Right. Let’s have dinner.”

A meal would give her an opportunity to regroup and figure out what the hell she was doing. If the story was a no-go, then she was free to pursue other avenues with Mal Quinn. Sexual avenues...and boulevards...and expressways. She’d come to New Zealand to make a major change in her life. Maybe she should start with herself.

* * *

MAL HAD BEGUN the evening searching for a warm body to take to bed. To his surprise, he’d found a funny, smart and sexy woman. Too bad she was a journalist.

He watched in amusement as she tackled the huge hamburger, digging into her dinner with enthusiasm.

“It’s good, right?” he asked.

“Really good,” she said.

“New Zealand beef. It’s the best.”

“I think all the cheese and truffle oil might have something to do with it, too,” she said, closely examining the burger.

They sat on the wide front porch of the restaurant, which overlooked the street. Raglan was a typical surf haven, filled with funky shops and casual restaurants. The laid-back atmosphere was exactly what he needed when he came home from an expedition, these surroundings providing the perfect atmosphere to decompress.

Though he’d been to many breathtaking spots in the world, home was always the most beautiful to him. He’d grown up here, learned to surf here and made plans for his first solo adventure in the cozy bach on the beach.

“I’ve never seen a woman eat like that,” he said.

“Then you haven’t been hanging around real women,” Amy countered. “Not all of us eat like rabbits.”

“I reckon not,” he said. He respected that about Amy. She didn’t try to turn herself into someone she assumed he wanted. She was true and genuine. “So tell me about your travels. I’ve read about your father and your brother. What about you?”

She gazed across the table at him, an odd expression on her face. “I’d much rather hear about your trip to Greenland. That sounds interesting.”

“It was,” he said. “At the rate the glaciers are melting, there will come a day when that trip isn’t possible. I’m glad I’m able to give people the experience before it’s too late.”

“What’s your favorite trip?” she asked.

“Every trip has something special,” he said. “It’s not the scenery, it’s more the feeling. I’ll be standing in some marketplace in Nepal or talking to some Argentinian farmer and I’ll say to myself, what the bloody hell am I doing here? I can’t believe I live this life.”

“Have you ever thought of settling down and staying in one place?”

Mal shook his head. “Never. I make my living as a guide and even though I’m very careful, there are still dangers. I’d never put someone through what my mother went through.”

“Do you think she regrets marrying your father?”

“No. They loved each other. And she understood what she was getting into when they got married. But I do think it might have been easier if they hadn’t had children.”

“How can you say that? You and your siblings are a part of him that lives on.”

It was so odd to talk about these matters, especially with a virtual stranger. And yet discussing his father with Amy had already given him new insights. Until now, he’d been pretty rigid in his opinions, but he was starting to realize that it was not always black-and-white.

The subject turned to his business and Amy was curious about the expeditions his company offered. Though she knew a great deal about the locations, Mal got the impression that she hadn’t done a lot of adventuring herself. Or maybe she was just trying to keep him talking. Either way, he didn’t mind. She had a way of making him feel completely comfortable. There was no question she might ask that he wouldn’t answer.

Which was dangerous. She was a reporter after all. And he couldn’t be completely certain about her motives. Though this flirtation was fun, Mal wasn’t sure he was willing to take it to the next level.

But why not? If she was willing, why not enjoy a night of passion before she went home? Having sex with her certainly wasn’t going to change his mind. And he was positive they’d have a great time indulging in the desire that was growing more intense with every minute that passed.

He reached out and snagged her hand, hooking his little finger around hers. “Why don’t we walk off this meal? We can go get your car and you can follow me back to the house. I’ll show you my beach.”

The waitress brought the bill and though Amy insisted on paying, Mal couldn’t agree. He wanted this to be a real date, not just two people sharing a casual meal. He’d follow dinner with a romantic stroll on the beach and that would lead to more kissing and touching. And maybe, after all that, she’d end up in his bed.

They walked down the front steps and Mal linked his fingers through hers. He didn’t want to let any opportunity slip by, but Amy needed to know that his intentions were purely carnal. That way, she’d make the choice.

They got in the Range Rover and he pulled it around and headed toward the pub where they’d met earlier that afternoon. She seemed oddly silent and he risked a glance over at her, wondering if she was reconsidering her choices.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Mal asked.

“You mentioned your father’s journals. Have you ever thought of writing your own book about him?”

Her reply caught him by surprise. Unlike him, she clearly wasn’t thinking about sex. She was thinking about business. “I can’t write.”

“Everyone can write,” Amy said. “You’d just need a good editor to help you put things in order.”

“Do I know any good editors?”

She sent him a haughty smile.

“Are you volunteering?”

“It’s just an idea. But it might be good for you. You’d get to know your father again, only this time with an adult perspective.”

“Why is it that everything you say makes perfect sense to me?”

“That’s funny, most things I say don’t make sense to me.”

He’d never considered an autobiography, a project that he and his family could control. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea....

They found her car where she’d left it earlier that day. “Just follow me,” he said. “It’s not far.”

She jumped out of the Range Rover and turned to him. “Maybe I should go back to the hotel.”

He shook his head. “No. I don’t want this night to end quite yet. Take a walk with me. It’s just a walk.”

“All right.”