The Mighty Quinns: Marcus

“No, there’s an adjustable crescent wrench in my toolbox. Find it and see if that will work.”

Eden crawled back on board and stared down into the toolbox. Was she supposed to know what a crescent wrench was? Did most women know what a crescent wrench was? She glanced over at Marcus, then back down again at the jumble of tools. For the first time in her life she felt completely useless.

She opened her mouth to question him but then snapped it shut again. All of the fears and frustrations that had been building over the past week suddenly surged up inside her. She swallowed back the tears and pasted a smile on her face.

“I—I don’t…I can’t—”

“It’s the silver thing that looks like a C,” he said impatiently. “It’s got a little screw barrel that makes it smaller and bigger.”

Eden bent down and rummaged through the tools, but she couldn’t find anything that looked like what he described. A tear dribbled from the corner of her eye, and with a vivid curse she brushed it away. “I can’t,” she said, shaking her head. She hurried along the rail to the cockpit, then quickly descended into the cabin.

With a shaky sigh, she sat down on the couch and pulled her knees up to her chin, pressing her face against her legs. Unwanted tears dampened her cheeks and she fought against them. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d cried. It had been years, a lifetime ago. But since she’d returned home, her emotions had been bubbling just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over at the slightest provocation.

“A crescent wrench,” she murmured, a fresh round of tears flooding her eyes. “I’m crying over a damn wrench.”

But it wasn’t just the wrench. It was the video and the pictures and the betrayal and the shame. The video had been nothing more than a silly game of seduction meant to add a bit more excitement to a night together nearly three years ago. But now it was out there, threatening to make her the object of public ridicule and lascivious speculation.

She should have known better than to trust Ricardo—to trust any man, for that matter. But she’d had a bit too much champagne, and Eden had never been one to be afraid to try something new. And Ricardo had promised to erase the tape after they watched it. She’d thought he cared about her, at least enough not to ruin her life.

But then, the blame could be put entirely on her. He’d kept the video a secret for three years, until she’d made an offhand remark to a reporter about Ricardo’s sexual prowess and been misquoted. Suddenly the tape had resurfaced in the hands of an Internet entrepreneur, who’d released a few blurry stills to the European tabloid press.

When the photos had hit the papers, she’d been shocked. Confronting Ricardo had proved useless. He had simply claimed he had nothing to do with it, but she’d heard the lie in his voice. He’d taken the tape and given it to a friend, and that friend was now trying to sell it to the highest bidder.

It had been a lifetime ago and she’d been a stupid girl who had thought she was in love. And now the tape threatened to ruin her life. She didn’t have the money to buy it back and Eden couldn’t ask her father for help. She had found herself with no way out, so she’d run. The story would hit the tabloids in the U.S. any day now.

Eden felt a hand on her shoulder and she jerked her head up. “Are you all right?” Marcus asked.

“Fine,” she said, quickly wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I—I’m sorry about the wrench. It was a wrench, right? I’ll buy you a new one. I’ll buy you a hundred of them.”

He smiled and nodded. “The water’s clear. I’ll be able to find it. No big deal.” He reached out and tenderly brushed the hair from her face. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

He studied her face, his gaze skimming over her features as if trying to understand her tears. And then he leaned forward and kissed her. It was a perfect kiss, full of sweetness and warmth. The breath slipped from Eden’s lips along with the frustration and confusion she felt. It hadn’t come as a result of seduction or some game she’d played. It had come from simple kindness.

Strange how Marcus, a man she barely knew, could make her feel safe with just one kiss. She’d always managed to throw herself into the paths of completely inappropriate men. She didn’t know anything about Marcus Quinn, beyond the fact that he knew how to kiss and he had some kind of accent. For all she knew, he could be yet another in a long line of self-absorbed jerks. But for now, his touch, his kiss, made her feel better about herself.

“I don’t think we should do any more work today,” he murmured, his lips warm against her temple. “I’m going to go into town and get us something really good for dinner and we’ll celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?” Eden asked, glancing up into his deep blue eyes.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sure we’ll come up with something. We’ve got all night.”

Eden nodded, a tiny sliver of apprehension shooting through her. One of two things would happen tonight, she mused. Either they’d become friends or they’d become lovers. The trouble was Eden wasn’t sure which she wanted more.

LIGHTS LINED THE DOCK of the Ross estate, reflecting in the glassy water. The sprawling white clapboard house sat on a rise overlooking Price’s Neck, the last of the sunset fading behind it. Though the house was huge, it wasn’t nearly as ostentatious as some of the neighboring mansions. Marcus smiled to himself. He could have fit Porter Hall inside Trevor Ross’s house at least twice, and the guesthouse alone was bigger than the Quinn family house in Bonnett Harbor.

Marcus shifted the grocery bags in his arms as he walked down to the water. He’d given Eden a few hours to calm herself and he hoped that her dismal mood had dissipated. He really wasn’t adept at dealing with tears, and they came as such a surprise from Eden. She seemed to maintain such tight control of her emotions.

It didn’t look as though she’d be leaving anytime soon. If they were going to live together on the boat, they had to come to some sort of understanding, and tonight would be the perfect time to work out the terms. He’d bought a ready-made meal of cold salmon, grilled vegetables and Caesar salad, along with cherry pie for dessert. Champagne was also on the menu, although Marcus wasn’t too sure about the effect it would have on his self-control.

As Marcus stepped onto the dock, he saw a figure at the end, rising from a bench that overlooked the water. Though the light was low, he immediately recognized his brother Declan. “Hey,” he called.

Dec waved and waited for Marcus to reach the end of the dock. “Hey, little brother.”

“What are you doing here?” Marcus asked, an uneasy feeling twisting at his gut. “Is everything all right? Is Ma okay?”

“I’m here on business.”

“How the hell did you get past the gate?”

“I’m doing another job for Ross,” Declan explained. “I have the security codes to the house and the gate. I thought you’d be out on the boat, but the housekeeper said your truck was gone.”

“I was just getting some dinner from town,” Marcus said. He set the bags on the bench. “What kind of job?”

“I’ll tell you all about it over dinner,” Dec said. “I assume you have cold beer on that boat and something good to eat in those bags.” He peeked inside, then withdrew the bottle of champagne. “I thought you preferred Guinness.”

Marcus grabbed the bottle and shoved it back into the bag. “I’m just resupplying the boat. Replacing a bottle I drank one night when I ran out of beer.”

Declan pulled out a plastic bag and dangled it in front of Marcus’s face. “And what are these?”

“Organic mangoes,” Marcus explained.

“Since when do you eat mangoes?”

Marcus shrugged. “I like mangoes. Kiwi, too.” He grabbed the bag and searched for a quick change of subject. “You said you’re doing a job for Ross?”

Dec nodded. “I’m looking for his daughter,” he said, giving him an odd look. “She’s gone missing.”

“Missing? Like kidnapped?”

Dec held out a copy of a tabloid newspaper he had tucked under his arm. Marcus took it and turned it toward the light at the end of the dock. The National Inquisitor.

“‘Eden’s Sexcapade Caught on Tape,’” Dec read.

“What exactly is a ‘sexcapade’?” Marcus asked.

“Miss Ross and one of her Eurotrash boyfriends decided to make a little home movie a few years back. Somehow it got out there, and now the guy who has it is threatening to sell it over the Internet. He’s released a few still photos from it to amp up the interest. The story broke in Europe last week and the tabloids picked it up here. In a few days it will be all over the news. Trevor Ross is furious and he has his lawyers working on a lawsuit against the magazine. Meanwhile, nobody seems to know where Eden is. Ross isn’t even sure this is his daughter in the video, and until he talks to her, he can’t confirm it.”

“Don’t these magazines usually make stories up?”

“Yeah, but look at the photo,” Dec said.

Marcus squinted to try to make out Eden’s face, but it was too blurry to see. “And you’re looking for her?”

“We know she landed at JFK last Sunday, but after a cabbie dropped her off at the Plaza in Manhattan, she just vanished. Ross thought she might come here, but I didn’t think so. The housekeeper hasn’t seen her. She’s probably hiding out with friends in New York City.”

“Hiding out?” Marcus asked.

“Hell, she had to know this would hit the fan sooner or later. I don’t think she’s too anxious to see her father right now. It’s going to cost him a lot of money to get her out of this.”