Free A New Year Marriage Proposal (Harlequin Romance) by Kate Hardy Page A

ready to answer any more. ‘Enough, Quinn,’ she said. ‘I’m tired.’
    He cupped her cheek for a fleeting moment. The same way that she’d touched him at the skating rink, just before he’d kissed her. But she knew this was meant to be a gesture of comfort, not enticement.
    ‘If you want to stay tonight,’ he said, ‘give me a second to put clean sheets on my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch.’
    He’d really do that for her?
    How good it would be to lean on someone. But she’d made that mistake with Justin. She knew Quinn wasn’t like Justin—he had a good heart—but she couldn’t let herself make that mistake again. She needed to keep her independence. ‘Thank you, but I’m only three doors down,’ she said. ‘I’ll be fine on my own.’
    ‘Can I walk you home?’
    ‘All three doors away?’ she asked wryly.
    ‘It’d make me feel better,’ he said.
    She rested her forehead against his briefly, then climbed off his lap. Right now she needed to stand on her own two feet again—literally as well as metaphorically. To prove to herself that she could do it—that she wasn’t the weak, despicable mess she’d been three years ago. ‘You’re a good man, Quinn O’Neill. You have a good heart.’
    ‘Hmm,’ he said, and walked her home.
    He waited for her to unlock her front door. ‘If you can’t sleep tonight,’ he said, ‘call me. Or come over.’
    Tempting. But she wouldn’t. She’d already told him way too much. Right now she needed to be on her own. Regroup. Get her walls safely up again. ‘Thank you,’ she said, meaning it.
    * * *
    Quinn didn’t sleep properly that night. He could still see the fear in Carissa’s face. How many times had her ex moved his hand impatiently like that as a prelude to hitting her?
    That bright, sparkly exterior was designed to deflect attention away from the fact that she’d lost her ability to trust. And he was pretty sure that Project Sparkle helped her just as much as the people she made life better for—it proved to her that the world could be a good place. Yet, at the same time, it must make her doubt herself.
    She had just as much baggage as he did.
    Which was another reason why he really ought to stay away from her. She needed someone who could support her, not someone who was flooded with his own doubts. Well, he’d find a way of backing off without damaging her any more, and go back to what he was good at. Being on his own.
    But Carissa turned up on his doorstep at half past nine the next morning with lemon drizzle cake. Still warm. Smelling tart and sweet all at the same time. Mouthwatering.
    Like her.
    He damped the thought down before it got out of control and got him into trouble.
    ‘I ran out of chocolate,’ she said. ‘I hope this is an acceptable alternative.’
    Quinn wondered if she baked every time she felt low. Hadn’t he read somewhere that the scent of vanilla was meant to make you feel good?
    ‘Very acceptable,’ he said. ‘Come in and have a mug of coffee.’
    So much for putting distance between them. Yet again his mouth had run away with him.
    But something about her drew him to her. Not the vulnerability—he wasn’t arrogant enough to think that he was the answer to every woman’s prayers—but the warmth, the sweetness, the essential Carissa-ness of her.
    Today she wasn’t in the suit and killer heels, and the briefcase wasn’t in evidence; given that it was after most people would be at their desks in the City, clearly it wasn’t one of her office days. He wished it had been—because in her office gear she was far less approachable and it was easier to resist her. Today she was all softness—faded jeans, a cashmere sweater, and her hair was tied loosely in a ponytail by a chiffon ribbon rather than pinned back in the formal French pleat she wore for work. It reminded him of the way she’d looked last night at the ice skating rink.
    Two seconds before he’d kissed her.
    And he really needed to stop