material swing. “Does this dress scream Bond girl?”
He winked. “Absolutely. It’s a winner.” He told the clerk, “Let me pay.”
I’d lost the heart to argue. I folded my clothes and wore the dress out of the store like I was some diva who wore diamonds in the bathtub.
As if he read my mind, Quentin wrapped a necklace around my neck.
He must have bought this when my back was turned. I had no idea, but the glittering diamonds and yellow citrine made the dress pop.
He handed me the earrings, and I swear I glimpsed a ring he’d tucked back in his wallet.
My heart stilled as I put the earrings on. “What’s this?”
He took it out of his wallet and handed it to me. “My grandmother’s engagement ring. Been in the family as long as the casino’s been operating.”
This ring screamed family heirloom and wealth. I held it firmly, but it was like a magnet to my skin. “That’s a long history.”
I forced myself to give it back. My hand still had pins and needles from holding it like it was mine.
That was impossible. I was going home, and he didn’t love me. He’d give that to the right woman, one day. He tucked it in his wallet and said, “Doesn’t matter. It dies with me.”
Quentin was too sweet to stay single. “You’re never marrying again?”
“Not unless you say yes.” He winked.
Was that a joke? My hand pressed to my heart, but I shook my head. The gleam in his expression wasn’t serious, and I shouldn’t wish for more. I shrugged and batted my eyes. “But you haven’t even asked.”
He traced my back as the store clerk handed me my clothes in a bag. He waited till she was gone and then asked in a low voice, “Do you want to skip the party and find a corner with me?”
Goosebumps erupted all over my body. “Lead the way, Quentin.”
We headed out as he took my hand. “You’ve made my returning home more fun.”
I knew better than to believe in destiny, fate, or whatever it was to hope that we might have a happily ever after. “You did say last night we’d hit the party and find a corner there.”
“We can do that, too.” We walked across the second-floor hall and made it to the stairs that flowed to the first-floor gambling. We needed to go to a ballroom, but Quentin slowed down and pointed at the steps. “Is that your Marlon?”
My mouth flew open and didn’t close right away. I was staring into those blue eyes I’d never wanted to see again, and my hand went to my hip. “Is he joking?”
He joined us, and Quentin held my waist. Marlon was skinnier than I remembered.
“Marlon,” I clipped. “How did you know I was here?”
He loomed over me, though he was shorter than my muscle-bound Quentin. “I used my find my phone app. I needed to see this with my own eyes. You seriously hooked up with this French loser who only wants a passport?”
My shoulders tensed, and my hands began to shake. If I was a man, I’d punch him in the jaw. “Quentin’s a doctor. You’re a data scientist. He owns a vineyard. You own a small house that needs repairs you never have time for.”
Quentin traced my spine and said in a deep hypnotizing voice, “You don’t have to argue with this man, Kara. I’m happy to meet the man who left you available for me.”
Right. He held out his hand to shake, and Marlon stared at it. I widened my eyes as his refusal and then said, “Quentin is a grown-up, Marlon.”
And he’d given me pleasure in a way I’d never experienced. I, however, made choices like the man in front of me. There was no way I was worthy of Quentin for more than a week.
Marlon widened his stance. “He’s using you. I needed time, Kara.”
I held onto Quentin like he was my lifeline. Blood rushed to my brain. “Time? You canceled the wedding.”
Marlon’s voice etched up where it echoed. “I see that was a mistake.”
I took a deep breath. “No, it wasn’t. It hurt at that moment, but we weren’t in love.”
His face turned red, and I inched closer to Quentin who said, “You are different.”
I met Quentin’s gaze and instantly calmed. “I am. I’m happy.”
Marlon then shouted, “You’re a fucking whore! I knew you weren’t a lady.”
Quentin stepped in front of me, straightening his shoulders. “Apologize,” he growled at Marlon.
Marlon’s face contorted. “What the fuck do