Read The Mighty Quinns: Malcolm for Free Online Page B

self-assured, there was an underlying vulnerability to her. He saw it in the way she deftly changed the subject when he tried to get her to talk about herself. At first, he’d assumed it was just a reporter’s method of always turning the question back on the subject. But over the course of dinner, he’d begun to believe that she figured her life might seem uninteresting to him.
    In truth, he wanted to learn everything about her. What did she do on a normal Saturday night? Where did she live? What kind of music did she enjoy? They were all such insignificant questions, but he was curious.
    They reached the cottage and he pulled the Range Rover to a stop in the sandy drive, then jumped out and jogged to her car. Mal opened the door and held out his hand, helping her out. “Do you have a cardie or a jacket? It’s probably going to be a bit chilly.”
    “I don’t,” she said.
    “I’ll grab you something,” he said. “Wait here.”
    He ran into the house and pulled a fleece jacket from the hook near the door, then grabbed a second for himself. When he returned, she was standing at the bottom of the steps. Mal held out the jacket and she slipped her arms into the sleeves. Then he spun her around and zipped the front.
    “Cozy,” she said, rubbing her arms.
    He glanced down at her bare legs. “Do you want to put on some pants?”
    “I’ll be fine,” she said.
    A breeze had come up and it whipped her honey-blond hair around her face. He reached out and tucked a strand behind her ear. “Let’s go, then,” he said.
    Mal held out his hand and she placed her fingers in his. They walked down a sandy path to the beach. The sun had set a few hours before and the stars had come out, pinpricks of light scattered across the inky black sky.
    Waves rolled against the shore and they strolled to the edge of the water. She kicked off her shoe and dipped her toe in. “It’s cold.”
    “It never warms up enough to surf without a wetsuit. Not like California or Hawaii.”
    She kicked off her other shoe and waded in, reaching down to run her fingers through the water. She didn’t see the wave rolling in behind her, but Mal did. He figured the water was shallow enough that she could maintain her balance, but the minute the wave hit her calves, her feet got swept out from under her and she fell into the water. She screamed as the wave surrounded her.
    Cursing softly, Mal reached her in a few short strides and pulled her upright. Amy clutched his jacket, her hair stuck to her face in damp strands, her breath coming in deep gasps.
    And then suddenly, she started laughing, a boisterous giggle that came from deep inside of her. “What is wrong with me?” she shouted. “Why can’t I stay on my feet?”
    Mal reached down and scooped her up, then carried her out of the water. “I’m not sure. Maybe you’re better off your feet.”
    She shivered, crossing her arms over her breasts.
    “I think we’d better go find you some dry clothes.”
    “Well, at least I can say I’ve been swimming in the Indian Ocean. That’s a first,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.
    “It’s actually the Tasman Sea.”
    “Even better,” Amy said. She brushed the wet hair out of her eyes. “Oh, my shoes!”
    “Don’t worry, I’ll come out in the morning and find them. They’ll be washed up on the sand.”
    “I’m going to need shoes.”
    “Not tonight,” he said. “I don’t think you should do any more walking. You might end up in the hospital.”
    * * *
    W HEN THEY REACHED the warmth of his cottage, Mal set her down on her feet and quickly stripped off the sodden jacket. The dress she wore beneath clung to her skin, made almost transparent by the damp. Amy plucked at the fabric with her fingers. By now she was cold to the bone and shivering. But the trembles coursing through her body had less to do with the cold and more to do with the way he was looking at her—as if he might devour her at any moment.
    “Why don’t you