Neanderthal Seeks Human(51)

It felt strange to listen to a concert rather than to be actively be engaged in it; we didn’t sing or dance or clap. In fact, we spoke through most of it; it might as well have been background music on a stereo system. At one point we ignored it all together and spent forty-five minutes debating my good-bad-stupid-lazy philosophy.

It was Quinn’s belief that, if I included both good and bad, I should add intelligent and motivated. I countered that the absence of stupidity implied intelligence but the absence of bad did not imply good.

When he caught me yawning for the second time he decided it was time to take me home. A black Mercedes met us when we arrived downstairs; to my astonishment we were greeted by a familiar face.

It was Vincent. Vincent the limo driver who helped me move the contents of my belongings from Jon’s apartment then took me to Elizabeth’s apartment on my worst-day-ever. I couldn’t believe my eyes at first but then, as he held the door open, he winked at me. I could only stare at him dumbly.

Quinn and I spent the first half of the car ride in separated silence, sitting on opposite ends of the long leather bench seat. My brain hurt. It was tired of trying to keep up with so many changes and gauging the appropriateness of my reactions. Nevertheless, I attempted to sort through the last several hours I glanced at the back of Vincent’s head and once or twice he caught my eye in the rearview mirror. At some point I would need to ask Quinn if he’d arranged the limo that took me home those weeks ago or if Vincent’s presence tonight was merely a fluke.

At a stop light Quinn pulled me out of my musings by unbuckling my seat belt. I met his gaze, the clear blue of his eyes appearing opalescent in the dark car; he silently pulled me to the center of the bench. He wrapped his arms around me, guided my back to his chest, then fastened the middle buckle around me. I felt warm and safe which, paradoxically, made me shiver and my heart race with apprehension.

When we arrived outside my building Vincent the driver opened the door and offered his hand. I smiled up, then down, at him as I climbed out. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too. You are looking very beautiful.” His brown eyes twinkled at me under the street lamp; he brought my knuckles to his lips and gave them a kiss, just like he’d done before.

Quinn stood from the car behind me and I walked forward, turning to continue my conversation with the driver, “And how is your wife? Your grandchildren?”

“Ah- the days are long but the years are short.” He shook his head and looked to the heavens.

Quinn looked from Vincent to me, then back again. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. I said my farewell to the driver; Quinn, placing his hand on the small of my back, guided me to the steps of my building. We stopped at my door and I fished my keys from the portfolio case.

“How do you know Vincent?” One of Quinn’s hands was in his pocket, the other was scratching the day-old stubble on his jaw.

“I was meaning to ask you about that.” I paused as I separated the front door key from the others, “Vincent was driving the limo that took me home on the day I was downsized.”

Quinn’s eyes clouded over then his brow lifted in sudden understanding. He looked away from me and to the door of my building.

I eyed him suspiciously before I asked, “Did you arrange for the car that day?”

He hesitated then nodded, still not making eye contact. “Yes.” was all he said.

“Why did you do that?”

He met my gaze, “You seemed…” he sighed, “upset.”

“You didn’t even know me.”

“But I wanted to.” He countered, shifting closer, his hand lifting and tucking a curl behind my ear.

I swallowed with effort and lifted my chin to maintain eye contact as frenzied warmth twisted in my chest. “Why didn’t you just talk to me then? Ask me on a date?”

Quinn’s eyes narrowed and considered me, he looked particularly hawkish as he said, “I don’t date.”

I frowned at him. Before I could process his response he bent and kissed me for the third time that night. This one was different; not the slow, savoring sweetness of our first kiss and most definitely not a quick caress of lips like our last. This one was hungry and immediately demanding.

He fisted his hand in my hair and backed me into the door of my building, trapping me in place. It was the kind of kiss which drove all coherent thought away; bloodthirsty wolves chasing after bunny rabbits. My body responded automatically in a way I didn’t know possible, my back arching, wanting to press every inch of myself against his taut form and the painfully delightful ache in my lower stomach started to wind its way around my limbs.