Free In Too Deep by Sharon Mignerey Page A

imagined.
    She looked away, feeling guilty that she didn’t feel guilty, hating that she had nothing to feel guilty about. Despite Quinn’s reaction this morning, she didn’t regret the impulse that had made her crawl into bed with him.
    â€œYou’re too damn trusting, Lily,” Rosie said, breaking the silence. “Good grief, he’s your boss. You don’t even know the guy. And you have a hickey. Explain that.”
    Lily felt her face heat and for an instant she was swamped with the memory of him dragging kisses across her neck. Sheraised her collar higher and tightened the belt of her robe. “There’s nothing to explain.”
    â€œSo you didn’t sleep with him?”
    â€œTechnically, all I did was sleep.” She’d been so mortified when her fragile courage had deserted her the instant Quinn had asked if she was sure. Leave it to the man to be a gentleman who wouldn’t press to continue what she had started. And then he’d held her, just held her, as she had so badly needed. She hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but his warm arms around her had been a healing balm. This morning she felt more like herself than she had in a long while.
    â€œOh, Lily. You expect me to believe that? C’mon.” Rosie’s mouth fell open and she laughed. “This is so not you. You’re the cautious one who takes forever to make a decision, even if you do always wander around with those rose-tinted glasses of yours.”
    Lily had given those up a long time ago, something that her family and friends had yet to realize. And how could they? She was content to let them believe she was still an optimist because that meant things were normal. At least on the surface.
    This morning, though, she couldn’t stand that her sister—her best friend—didn’t believe her. “You haven’t been with me enough over the last several years to know what I’m like.”
    â€œYou’ve done it again. Taken in another stray.”
    â€œQuinn is no stray.” Lily straightened and glared at her sister, hating that he had characterized himself the same way.
    â€œWhat were you thinking?” Rosie’s question was an echo of their father when one of them had done something stupid.
    Now, as then, Lily’s first reaction was that she didn’t know. Thinking? She hadn’t been, not even close. She met her sister’s gaze. “Did you know that since John died, nobody touches me?” Lily looked away, raking a hand through her hair. “Oh, there’s the occasional hug, but not held…when you’re scared or lonely or hurting or, most of all, for the simple pleasure of it. God, Rosie, can’t you understand that?” Lily sat at the table and reached for her coffee mug. “Just being in his arms—do you have any idea how wonderful that was?”
    â€œYou’re lonely.”
    â€œI’m not.” Lily had the awful feeling her sister was right, but darn if she was going to admit it to her. Another sliver of regret crept through her.
    â€œLike you said, you wanted to be held. And with guys, sex is usually the price that comes with that.” Rosie sat next to her. “I understand what it’s like to be lonely. But, let’s face it, you’re not exactly a fountain of experience with men. There wasn’t anybody before John, and since you’re new to all this, you don’t have a clue about how uncaring men can be.”
    â€œQuinn wasn’t—isn’t like that.”
    Rosie shook her head. “Says you. It’s worth repeating. You just met him.”
    â€œHe’s a good man.”
    â€œThat’s what you always say.” Rosie took another bite of her cracker. “Remember Pete Stone? And how mad Dad was when he got arrested?”
    â€œWe were kids then,” Lily said. “That was a long time ago.”
    â€œYou’ve always been too