"I can't wait to see my new wardrobe, Quinn told Fashionista. "Thanks for choosing and packing it for me, I think."
"Hey, the clothes are part of your gift. You should have at least one surprise to open on your birthday."
Quinn faltered. "They're not over the top, are they?"
"Your new clothes? Nah, Fashionista said. "But, I'll give you a hint. There's not a chastity-belt or business-suit in the lot.
"You’re scaring me, Quinn said, and listening from inside the train, Tiago grinned, because he didn't think anything scared Quinn Murdock.
"Looks like we just made it, Charm boy said. "Here's your train."
"This can't be right. Quinn stood back to examine a section of Tiago's pride and joy--nineteen pristine red, white, and blue vintage railroad cars, refurbished with love.
"This rattletrap's a throwback to the fifties, and I didn't bring my poodle skirt. She turned to Fashionista. "Did I?"
Tiago looked down at the station platform, from the parlor car in which he stood, at Quinn Murdock, all prim, and proper, and appalled, as beautiful as ever, even dissing his train.
His heart raced at the implications--Quinn, for three days, neither of them on the wrong, or right, side of the tracks, but square in the middle.
Maybe, he'd get some long-overdue answers.
Maybe . . . they'd finally kill each other.
Quinn stepped away to read the plaque on the railroad car, and the sun came out and gilded her hair to copper. Then the wind lifted it around her face, and Tiago could swear he caught its scent. He remembered the silk of it sliding between his fingers. His body remembered as well.
"It's named for a baseball player? Quinn asked, the sudden set of her lips enhancing his hard reaction. "You wouldn't! She turned on her gofers, and they stepped collectively back. "I told you about Tiago in confidence!"
Tiago's heart skipped. Thirteen years, and she still talked about him?
"Please! Quinn said, "Tell me this moldering old excuse for a locomotive is not Tiago's Hot-Ticket Express to Spring Training!
"This is not Tiago's Hot-Ticket Express to Spring Training, Charm Boy lied as ordered.
Tiago braced himself, as much against the train's first halting surge as against the razor-sharp blade of Quinn's presence slicing open his sorry past and threatening to make him bleed.
"Let's get you on board, Charm Boy said. "Damn train's starting to move. Despite Quinn's protest, the man shoved her, ass-up, onto the train while Tiago bit off an objection to the familiarity.
Quinn gave her attention to fighting and cursing the ham-fisted jerk behind her, so she didn't know who stepped out and caught her hand to keep her from falling on the tracks--couldn't know that touching her again revved more than the Amtrak engine up front.
"Traitors, she shouted as she turned, retrieved her hand, and caught her balance, still focused on the tricksters who got her here.
Charm Boy sprinted beside the train and tossed two suitcases in after her. One hit the floor at her feet, split, and belched enough gauze and spandex to make a hooker proud.
The second broke the bones in Tiago’s left foot.
"Effing-A, Quinn said as she fell to her knees, rescued a rippling cellophane halter top, and shoved it back in the bag's gaping belly. She rifled through the rainbow of bare-flesh wet dreams, and with rising anxiety, she checked the second bag, a street-walker's shoe store. "Where’s my underwear? she shouted. "Derek, there's no underwear!
Her male gofer grinned, saluted, and stopped trying to keep up, and as the distance grew between them, he rubbed his hands together at a job well done. Quinn's female contingent caught up to him, and they hugged and high-fived each other.
Quinn screeched when she saw, and about gave Tiago a stroke when she leaned out the door. "Loserrrrrrs!
The losers grinned, nodded, and waved.
Tiago caught the death-defying tigress around the waist and hauled her back in, against her will, his heart racing over her stunt, her scent, her lush familiar curves. "Damn, but I forgot what a pain in the ass you are."
Quinn Murdock--the only woman who ever ran away from him--in his arms again. Tiago held her against him, eye to eye, her feet about six inches off the ground.
"Son of an effing bustard, she snapped. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Put me down you dumbass gorilla."
Tiago chuckled. "I missed you too.
--copyright Annette Blair
