Mr. Naughty And Mrs. Nice

Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Jemma

“ T his is insane,” I say to myself as I look down the street. I’m waiting outside my apartment with a packed suitcase and a stomach full of nerves. “What are you even doing, girl?”

Quinn is supposed to pick me up any minute now, but I don’t think he’s going to show. I’m sure he came to his senses this morning and is already rolling down the highway on his way to Vermont, shaking his head at the thought of bringing the crazy girl he finger-blasted in a damn changing room to meet his mother.

What was I thinking?

I don’t know what came over me last night. Twenty-four years of sexual oblivion and then five minutes with that man and I was ready to spread my legs and do anything he asked at my place of work. He must be a dark wizard or something. It felt like I was under a spell. I’ve never reacted to a man like that before. Ever. Not even close.

I’m about to turn around and head back up when a gorgeous, black, luxury SUV turns onto my street.

“ Goddamn …” I whisper when I see Quinn behind the wheel, somehow looking even more gorgeous than I remembered.

He smiles when he sees me and pulls up to the curb.

“You came,” I say, still in shock when he steps out.

He’s wearing a black turtleneck with blue jeans and brown leather boots. He’s so fit. I bet if he stripped down, he’d be rock hard everywhere. My mind starts going to some dirty places at the thought of him being rock hard and naked, so I quickly shake those thoughts out of my head, grab my bag, and head over.

“Of course, I came,” he says like it was never in question. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you all night.”

I know that feeling… I was up thinking about him too.

I walk up to him, awkward and unsure of what to do. How do you greet a guy you hardly know, but also got to second base with, but also have never been on a date with, but you’re also about to meet his whole family?

Handshake? Kiss on the cheek? Blow job?

“Good morning,” he growls, taking over.

He steps right up to me, slides his arm around my back, pulls me into him, and gives me a long, slow, sensual kiss.

Mmmmmmm.

That’s the way to greet a man like that. If you’re ever in the same position…

My head is spinning when he takes my bag and puts it in the trunk. I love a man who takes control. It allows me to park my anxious crazy in the backseat while he takes over and drives.

“Have you eaten?” he asks as he walks back over, looking me up and down. I get a warm shiver, despite the chill in the air. I love the way those hungry brown eyes look when they’re on my body.

“Not much,” I say as he opens the door for me. Oooh, a gentleman. I like that. “I was too nervous to eat.”

He smiles as he watches me get into his SUV. “Nothing to be nervous about,” he says as he holds the door. “We’re going to have a great time. We’ll stop and get something to eat when your stomach settles down.”

He closes the door and walks around the hood. I keep my eyes on him the whole time, loving the way his hair flicks up in the wind. The nerves in my stomach are quickly being replaced by butterflies—the good kind.

I’ve never understood how people can drive in New York City. I could never. I’d be terrified. But Quinn is zipping through the city like it’s not a problem at all. He’s very skilled and smooth. I keep looking at his sexy hands on the wheel. I don’t know what it is about them, but I’m a little obsessed with those hands. Maybe knowing they were inside me last night has something to do with it.

I shift in my seat as we get to the highway. I don’t know what kind of SUV this is, but it’s the nicest vehicle I’ve ever been in. The seats are so soft and comfy.

“I kind of pictured you as a fast convertible type of guy,” I say when he settles into the left lane, zooming past the slower drivers on our right.

“I have one,” he says with a grin. “But it wouldn’t last five miles in the Vermont snow. I didn’t want our first date to be us trapped in a snowbank in some farm field, freezing in a convertible.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound very romantic,” I say with a laugh. Although, I wouldn’t mind being cuddled by those big muscular arms for warmth.

We drive out of the city and the spectacular Manhattan skyline is in full glorious view to our left. I’ve never seen it from this angle. I’ve always been in the thick of the city since I arrived. I haven’t left once. I’m kind of feeling like a goldfish who’s suddenly looking at her fishbowl from the outside.

“Love that view,” Quinn says as he looks at it. I’m looking at him looking at it and I feel a flush in my face and neck as I admire his jaw, his lips, his nose. Even the skyline of the most spectacular city in the world has got nothing on this beautiful man.

He turns back around and I drop my eyes, a little flustered. He must see my pink cheeks, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He just smiles and keeps driving.

“What brought you to New York?” he asks.

I tell him all about my dreams of becoming a fashion designer and how so far, it’s not going to plan.

“It never happens as fast as we want,” he says in an encouraging tone, “but the most important part is you’re doing it. You’re in the arena. Just don’t give up and one day, you’ll amaze yourself at all you’ve accomplished.”

“I hope so,” I say, fidgeting with my hands.

He gently takes my chin and lifts it until I’m looking into his stunning eyes. “I know. You got this.”

He tells me all about his journey and I’m amazed by every word. He built up a company from scratch and then IPO’d it—gotta look that up later, not sure what IPO means, but I pretend like I do. He created software that guides drones to drop medical gear to injured soldiers on the battlefield. The US military is their biggest client.

“How did you come up with that?” I asked, amazed by this incredible man.

He sighs as he tells me. “My uncle died in Iraq when his Humvee went over a landmine. If they had the right medical gear, they could have saved him, but…”

I watch him as he takes a deep breath and looks out his window, trying to compose himself.

“So, I came up with this idea.”

“And built a whole company to make it happen?”

He chuckles when he sees my stunned face. “Yeah, pretty much.”

I slide down in the seat and look at him with a smile. “Tell me all about it from the beginning.”

Two magical hours later, we stop at a little roadside gas station for snacks. The time flew by. It felt like ten minutes. We’ve been talking about anything and everything, and my crush has gotten bigger and bigger. I can’t look at this man without smiling.

“How can you like Donatello the best?” Quinn asks as he opens the door for me. The bell chimes over my head, which I love. It signals that we’re out of the city and officially in the country. “Nobody likes Donatello the best.”

“I do,” I say as I walk past him, inhaling the musky scent of his cologne. “I thought he’d be your favorite too.”

“Why?” God, I love the way his eyebrows crinkle up when he’s all inquisitive.

“He’s the inventor,” I say, nodding at the old man cashier before heading to the chips. “Like you.”

“I never thought of it like that,” he says, rubbing his chin.

“Let me guess your favorite Ninja Turtle,” I say as I grab a bag of Doritos and look at him.

He grins as I narrow my eyes on his handsome face, trying to figure him out. “Leonardo is the leader, and you’re definitely a leader, so maybe. Raphael is the hothead, but you’re calm and cool, so I doubt you’re into red. Michaelangelo is the slacker goof, and that’s definitely not you.”

I stare at him, contemplating it, but really I’m just using it as an excuse to openly check him out.

“Leonardo,” I finally say.

He shakes his head. “Splinter.”

I hit him with the bag of Doritos. “That’s not fair.”

He laughs, and our bodies come together like magnets. Our lips get closer and closer, our laughter drying up.

“What are you going to do about it?” he whispers on my lips. I get all tingly from the feel of his warm breath on my mouth and the comforting feeling of his arms wrapped around me.

“I’ll make you pay, Mr. Taylor,” I whisper back as I step on my toes.

He kisses me and my whole body turns to warm mush. I’m so happy I took a chance and came on this crazy trip. I’m so happy to be here right now, taking a chance on life, taking a chance on love.

“Hey!” the old man shouts, smacking the counter repeatedly. “No kissing in my store!”

We both burst into laughter and duck down, hiding behind the rack of chips.

“Busted,” I say, feeling my cheeks getting red.

Quinn starts grabbing all the snacks he can reach. “Let’s buy these and get out of here before he chases us out with a broom.”

I laugh as I grab some chocolate bars and follow him.

Vermont is spectacular. I’m in awe as we drive through it, getting closer and closer to Quinn’s parents’ house. The GPS says we’re nine minutes away and the reality of this crazy adventure is starting to hit.

“Does your mom have any idea I’m coming?”

I can tell she doesn’t by the look on his face.

“You didn’t tell her?! Quinn! ”

“She’s going to be cool with it, trust me. She wants grandkids so badly.”

“Oh, so she thinks I’ll be her baby factory?”

“She’s… going to be happy to meet you. Let’s just leave it at that.”

I stare out the window, my stomach a wreck. Everywhere I look are rolling hills and tall trees. This place must be magnificent in the fall. I’ll have to get Quinn to take me back here next autumn so we can wear thick sweaters and go apple picking. It’s snowing lightly now and everything looks like Christmas. Every house we pass has beautiful Christmas decorations on it like we’re entering into a Hallmark holiday movie.

“Is this crazy?” I ask when Quinn pulls onto a busy road. The car beside us has a Christmas tree strapped to the roof and it hits me that I’ll soon be sitting around Quinn’s mom’s Christmas tree with his whole family. “This is crazy.”

He stops at a red light and turns to me with a grin. “Crazy is good.”

I moan as he leans over and kisses me. God, he’s so good at that.

“Crazy is good,” I whisper, licking my lips as the light turns green and we’re rolling again.

Six minutes.

“I love this area,” I say as we pull onto the quiet residential streets. “Oh my god, do your parents live in a colonial?”

Quinn looks at me funny. “You know about Vermont architecture?”

“I used to watch a lot of HGTV with my mom. She loved those old colonial houses.”

“Then she’s going to love my parents’ house. Maybe she can join us next Christmas.”

He smiles at me and then looks out the windshield. I’m still staring at him with an eyebrow raised, wondering if I’m being duped here. Is this a scam? Is he a con artist or something? Am I about to lose my life savings as meager as it is? Am I about to be hogtied in the woods and murdered?

This is too perfect. Something must be off. This is too fishy.

No one meets a nice, rich guy who’s immediately all-in and wants to have your mother over without a devious catch. I’ve read enough thrillers to know how this is going to end up and it’s not good for me.

“Isn’t it cool how phones have GPS trackers to let the cops know your last known location?” I say, swallowing hard.

“What?” he says with a chuckle. “We’re here.”

I gasp when he pulls into the driveway of a stunning red brick colonial house that instantly takes my breath away. Dark shutters frame each window and although it’s early winter, I can tell the large gardens are lovingly cared for. Huge trees are scattered around the lovely property—the kind of trees that you want to lazily waste a summer afternoon under with a good book and a cool glass of lemonade. It’s the type of house that looks like it’s been there forever with the old brick and the bright red door with the lovely wreath inviting you in. A warm glow emanates from the windows and a trail of smoke is drifting out of the chimney, giving the house a warmth that I can feel from here. Colorful Christmas lights frame the pitched roof and there’s a group of reindeer made of white lights on the front lawn. I’m instantly in love with it.

“This is it?” I ask, amazed as Quinn parks his SUV.

“This is it,” he says, smiling as he looks up at it. “I should come back more often. It is nice to be home.”

“Quinn!” a lady that I’m sure is his mother shouts as she opens the red door, the largest smile possible on her face. “Mitch! He’s here!”

His dad follows her out, waving at us.

“Ready to meet the parents?” Quinn asks.

I should be nervous, but I’m not. I’m excited. I don’t know why, but everything feels right.

“Definitely!”