I sprinted out of the studio.
Chapter Thirteen
Eve
I lay on my back on the velvet cushion, waiting for Val to come back with a condom. If I'd planned for this to happen, I would've stashed an entire box of Trojans in this room. Despite my reckless craving for him, I'd vowed I would not sleep with Val. So much for that resolution. Lying here, burning with desire, I couldn't remember any of the reasons why I'd sworn to avoid sex with this man.
Minutes elapsed. A few turned into several. Several became an uncomfortably long time.
"Val?" I called out.
When he didn't respond, I shook my head. Of course he wouldn't hear me. He was probably still in his room down the hall rummaging around for his box of rubbers. I got up and moseyed out of the studio, intending to swerve right toward Val's room. A noise from the direction of the kitchen made me pause. I leaned to the side so I could get a peek into Val's room. Since I couldn't see him, I figured he'd gone into the kitchen, maybe to get some chocolate syrup we could drizzle over each other's bodies.
I walked into the kitchen—and gasped.
The door to the outside hung wide open, and Quentin had his fist clenched, ready to lash out.
Val slumped against the wall massaging his jaw.
No, this couldn't be what it seemed to be. Quentin couldn't have punched Val.
"Get the hell out of here," Quentin snarled. He shook his fist in the air between them. "Or I'll lay another one on you. And this time, I'll draw blood."
I gaped at my handyman. "What do you think you're doing?"
Quentin's gaze veered to me. First, his eyes bulged. Next, his jaw dropped. His shock morphed into something else, something darker. One side of his mouth slanted upward while his tongue traced the inside of his lower lip. His wide eyes narrowed as he took in the full view of me.
Totally naked.
Maybe I should have run out of the room or at least snatched up a dish towel to cover part of myself, but I was too pissed.
I focused on Val when I asked, "What happened here?"
"He hit me," Val said, his voice surprisingly calm under the circumstances. He straightened and narrowed his gaze on Quentin. "I was coming back from my room when I heard the knob on the kitchen door jiggle. Came in here to check it out. That's when this bastard crashed through the door and attacked me."
I suddenly noticed the box of condoms lying near his feet, open, silver packets scattered across the floor.
Quentin's mouth crimped. "He's taking advantage of you. Right here in the kitchen where anybody might see."
Val was using me? Seriously? I stomped up to Quentin, my breasts bouncing, and jabbed a finger into his chest. "You're the one who took advantage of me. Remember that night when I'd had one too many margaritas? A real gentleman would have seen me home and said good night. But you saw yourself into my bedroom and had your fun."
For months, I'd convinced myself Quentin hadn't taken advantage of me. Today, with him staring at my body with a lustful gleam in his eyes, I no longer believed it.
I stabbed my finger into his chest so hard he flinched. "You're fired."
His eyes went wide again, with shock this time. "I'm sorry, Eve. I'll apologize to your boyfriend if you want."
Val was not my boyfriend, but that was none of Quentin's business.
"It's too late," I said. "You crossed a line, a big old red one with flashing lights on it. Breaking into my house? Attacking my guest? You and I, we're done. Get in your truck and get the hell off my property."
"Let me get my tools first."
I smacked my palm flat on his chest, making him stumble backward half a step. "I bought those tools. The only thing here that you own is your clothes and your truck. Get out of here, Quentin."
Val took a step closer, but I shook my head at him. He stayed put.
"Go," I snarled at Quentin. "I never want to see your face again. Your final paycheck will be mailed to you."