She opened the box and reached for a knife. “And I’m sure Rosie doesn’t get to spend much time with you, Quinn, considering the long hours you work. Besides, I’d hate to think I’d had a part in driving her from her own front room.” She paused and gave his daughter a terrifyingly brilliant smile. “And I’d really enjoy her company.”

Rosie stared at the cake. And then she leveled a slitty-eyed look at Tess.

Quinn’s gut twisted up so tight he feared his dinner might get stuck in some knot and sit there, festering, for the few remaining days of his life. He knew how to wedge himself, without getting clobbered, between two men facing off for a fistfight. He had no clue how to break up this female war of wills raging through his apartment without destroying them all in the process.

“Reading sounds like a good idea,” he lied. He offered his daughter a weak smile. “Grab one of your books and join us. I’ll build a fire.”

It was summer, for crying out loud, and he had no idea if he had any kindling or if a blocked flue might fill the room with smoke. On the other hand, asphyxiation might be preferable to the dessert course.

“Sounds cozy,” Tess said.

“I’ll be right back.” Rosie shot him her death stare, marched from the room and slammed her door.

He winced. “Do you think she’ll come out and have some cake?”

“Not a chance. I wouldn’t.” Tess gathered the rest of her dinner things and took them to the kitchen.

She didn’t come back.

A few seconds later, the kitchen plumbing wheezed and sputtered, and the sounds of dishwashing filled the kitchen. He stole a moment to shut his eyes and wallow in self-pity, wincing again when a cupboard door banged shut.

What a disaster. He should have figured Rosie would resent him bringing a woman-any woman-into their lives. Hadn’t her mother dumped her on his doorstep because she had a new man in her life? If Quinn were to get involved with another woman, where would Rosie end up? Who would want her?

God. His daughter probably felt like the booby prize in the life of every adult who was supposed to care for her.

He leaned forward, his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. He had no idea how to give Rosie the reassurance she needed. He’d had plenty growing up-his parents had loved and supported him in a simple, settled life. Even now, though they’d retired to Arizona and he seldom saw them, they’d stayed in touch. He knew he could count on them.

But his daughter had learned the hard way that she couldn’t count on him.

Weighed down with guilt and regret, he hauled himself out of his chair and trudged to the kitchen doorway. Tess was wiping down the counters, her lips set in a thin, grim line. She’d stuck her short, jagged hair behind her ears, but her bangs were slipping loose, one soft strand at a time, to sway with each jerky movement. A pretty smudge of pink highlighted her curved cheekbone.

Even in a temper, she was gorgeous. Tantalizing. After all that had happened this evening, with all the obstacles that lay between them, he itched to take her into his arms and-

No. Not tonight. Not in Rosie’s home.

He leaned a shoulder against the jam. “Were you like this when you were this age?”

“Worse.”

“How did your parents survive?”

She dropped the sponge in the sink and twisted the tap. “They chose not to deal with me. Or with my brother. They passed us off to the servants.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I was better off with the servants.” She squirted soap into her hands and scrubbed furiously. “My father had his work. My mother drank.”

“Then I’m twice as sorry.” He stepped into the room to hand her a towel.

She dried her hands, carefully folded the towel and draped it across the edge of the sink, avoiding his gaze. “I don’t like pity,” she said at last. “I don’t want it, especially from you.”

“Tess.” He simply surrendered to the longing, drawing her close and then rationalizing the move after he’d made it, telling himself he could offer her some bit of comfort in his embrace. And if he happened to find his own comfort-and a world of pleasure-in the contact, it was a bonus that had sprung from pure and honorable intentions. “I didn’t think you’d take my pity or my apology if I offered it,” he said. “So I won’t make that mistake.”

“Again.”

He grinned and lifted a hand to cup her chin. “Lady, you are one tough customer.”

Her answering smile looked a little wobbly around the edges. “And don’t you forget it,” she whispered.

She pulled away and moved into the front room, where she placed her things back in her briefcase and zipped it shut. “I think it’s time for me to go.”

“We have work to do.”

“It can wait.” She clenched her fingers on the top of her case and then smoothed them over its edge. “The truth is, I’m ashamed of my behavior tonight. I’ve got twenty years on your daughter, and I used every one of them against her. I didn’t fight fair.”

“She started it.”

“A handy excuse. But a mighty sorry one.” Her eyes, when she lifted them to meet his, were shadowed. “I’m not usually this awful, Quinn. But I can be, at times.”

“I’m nothing to brag about, either.”

“I know. Your reputation precedes you.”

He shook his head. “What a sorry pair we make.”

“We have no business making a pair at all.”

He panicked and scrambled for an answer, but then a depressing calm settled over him as he realized she was right. Hadn’t he just been thinking the same thing? He had no business getting involved with this woman. No matter how much he wanted her.

And like everything else in his life he couldn’t have-booze, tobacco, peace of mind-as soon as he’d decided to let go, the craving increased painfully. Tess understood his daughter in a way he never would. She understood him, too, in some mysterious way that allowed her to look past his faults and accept what was left. The fact that she was willing to walk away from something they both hungered for, for the sake of his daughter, made her more desirable than ever, for reasons he’d find impossible to resist.

Impossible. Hopeless. “I’ll see you out,” he said.

He opened the door for her and walked beside her down the hallway. “Thank you for dinner,” he said. “It was good.”

“Of course. I’m a terrific cook.” She tossed her head in that way of hers to make her bangs fly and settle back where they belonged. Everything under control again.

“You didn’t get any cake,” he pointed out.

“I don’t need the calories. I lied about my metabolism.” She paused at the top of the stairs. “I told you-I’m a terrible person.”

“I already knew that. Your reputation precedes you.”

Her lips turned up at the corners, and then she leaned in and pressed a quick, casual kiss to his cheek. “Hang in there, Quinn. Your daughter cares enough about you to put up a pretty tough fight. She wouldn’t have been giving me such a hard time if she didn’t want to keep you all to herself. She doesn’t want that part of her life to change.”

“Maybe that’s because she’s had too much change lately.”

“And maybe it’s because she likes things just the way they are.” Tess tilted her head to the side and gave him one of her witchy smiles. “Smart girl.”

She walked down the steps to the first landing and then turned to give him a flirty, friendly goodbye wave. He lifted a hand in response, but she’d already disappeared around the corner.

He stood where he was, staring at the empty landing until he heard the muffled whump of the street-level door closing behind her. Nothing had changed since dinner. He was still trapped in the middle and pretty much chewed out.

TESS KEPT BUSY on Sunday planting annuals in her front yard and berating herself for her behavior at Quinn’s, including her cowardly retreat. She spent most of the holiday Monday washing windows and reminding herself it had never been the smartest move to consider getting involved with Tidewaters’ contractor on a personal basis.