Chapter 2: Ford Harper

QUINN'S POV

Spastically I shook as another chill jolted me. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ford glance at me.

"We're close to my place. As soon as we get there, we'll get you in a hot bath."

The tone in his voice made me quiver. On second thought, it may have been the freezing cold. Whatever the reason, a hot bath sounded ideal. Should I have been more concerned that I so willingly agreed to go wherever this stranger took me? He hadn't really given me much of a choice. But my thoughts were now consumed with the bath he'd offered and getting warm.

The cold sliced through me like frozen shards of ice, chilling my blood. My feet were pressed near the top of the floorboards and the seat warmer warmed my bottom, but I couldn't fight the shivers that shook my very bones.

He didn't speak again and neither did I. He slowed the car down a few minutes later in front of a six-story brick building. I slipped on my soggy shoes and opened the door. My gaze slid up the industrial looking building, shielding my eyes from the sun.

"Is this where you live?" I asked. "In this warehouse?"

Ford came around to stand next to me. "This is it. It's an old converted flour mill. Come on."

I followed behind him. The exterior of the building appeared slightly run-down, its age showing through the flaking painted bricks and two steel silos standing on a roughly hewn platforms. But the impressive lobby felt modern, yet industrial. It still held the feel of a warehouse complete with what appeared to be part of the original mill, its wheels and cogs rusted with time.

Natural light flooded the space brightening the deep red brick walls and concrete floors. The furnishings were hip with straight-edged coffee tables and clean-lined black leather couches. A long reception desk served as the focal point of the room and I watched Ford give a nod of acknowledgement to the man attending the desk.

I walked behind him into the bank of elevators and as the door shut, I sank back against the wall. Exhaustion overtook me as I closed my eyes. The movement of the elevator made me nauseas. I grabbed my stomach.

"You're not getting sick are you?" I heard Ford ask.

I opened my eyes and straightened. "No."

The doors opened on the sixth floor and we stepped into a narrow hallway. I looked around and noted there were no other residents on this floor. Ford's front door looked like a garage door with frosted windows. He reached for a handle and slid the door open. It glided silently up the rails and locked into place over our heads.

The room opened up to reveal a massive living area and kitchen. I crossed the threshold onto stained concrete floors and concrete columns rose to the ceiling. Exposed metal duct work gleamed from the sunlight pouring in through the white-bricked wall of windows. Pipes ran along the ceiling and even as rustic as it felt, it was beautifully decorated and warm.

Had it been any other day, I may have appreciated the urban grandeur. But this day, that hot bath was the only thing on my mind.

"You can use the bathroom down the hall," he started, as if he could hear my thoughts. "You'll find towels in the closet and a robe hanging on the back of the door. Can I trust you to behave yourself in the tub or should I accompany you to the bathroom and keep watch?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You're a smart *ss."

"If you're not out in fifteen minutes, I'm coming in after you."

'Why had I agreed to come here?' I wondered as I trundled off to the bathroom. But then, where else did I have to go? The thought depressed me further and I dropped the blanket to the bathroom floor and locked the door behind me. I turned the hot water spigot on over the claw-foot tub and stripped out of my soaked clothing.

I looked in the mirror as I waited for the tub to fill. My eyes were red and my cheeks sallow. My auburn curls were matted and twisted into knots. I looked like a drowned rat. I could see the outline of my ribcage beginning to press against translucent skin. I turned my nose up in disgust.

I grew impatient waiting for the tub to fill. Gingerly, I stepped in and the searing heat shocked my system. I eased down into the water, wincing at the painful paradox of heat and cold against my skin.

After several minutes, I managed to immerse myself in the water and I twisted the spigot off. Once my body temperature regulated to that of the water, I sighed with relief as I finally began to warm. Every inch of me ached as I sank deeper beneath the water to soothe my muscles.

I grabbed a bar of soap from the soap dish and rubbed it over my skin, washing away the grime of the Potomac River. I sat in the tub a while longer, vaguely aware I'd neared the fifteen-minute mark and Ford would come looking for me. I had the distinct feeling he'd be the type of person to barge into a bathroom uninvited.

Before he had the chance, I caught the chain of the plug between my toes and pulled. Stepping carefully out of the tub, I grabbed a towel from the narrow closet. When I'd finished drying, I hurried to drape myself in his oversized robe. His initials were monogrammed on the pocket: FAH. The robe smelled like a man -- musky, virile, sensual. It must be his scent.

A knock on the door made me nearly jump out of my skin and I turned the latch to unlock the door. Ford stood there, casually dressed in a white T-shirt and black sweat pants. His eyes raked over me.

"You feel better?" he asked me.

I snuggled deeper into his robe. "Yes, thank you."

"I'm going to take a shower. Give me your clothes so I can throw them in the dryer."

I turned to gather my belongings and handed them to him.

"There's a sandwich and hot tea waiting for you in the kitchen. You should eat."

Before I could respond, he turned on his heel and disappeared through a door at the other end of the hallway. He seemed to be a man of few words. He said exactly what he needed to -- no more and no less.

As I settled onto a bar stool at the massive gray concrete countertop, I began to wonder how I'd ended up in Ford's apartment. But I couldn't get my thoughts to formulate clearly. Every thought seemed shrouded in a cloudy, white fog. I took a bite of my sandwich, but it may as well have been made of cardboard. I couldn't taste a thing.

I took my cup of tea and walked over to the wall of windows. There seemed to be hundreds of small, square panes all frosted with frozen air. I reached out to clear a space, but stuck my hand back in the robe pocket instead. I didn't want to look out at the world.

I shook with a chill and sneezed. I sipped my tea. The rich and creamy brew slid down my throat and warmed my insides. I closed my eyes, moaning softly. The first bit of pleasure I'd had today came in the form of hot leaves.

I had to get out of here. The thought occurred to me so suddenly, the idea of it startled me. The reality that I had willingly come into a stranger's house and no one knew I was here frightened me. I felt the overwhelming urge to flee. I wasn't scared of him, but maybe I should've been.

I walked back to the kitchen and put my cup down before heading to the front door. I slipped on my still damp shoes and gripped the handle of the door. It didn't budge. I tugged harder, nearly ripping my shoulder from its socket, but to no avail. I clutched the handle tighter.

"The door locks at the top." Ford's voice piped up behind me and I spun around.

He'd already dressed in a navy, button down shirt and black slacks. His damp hair laid in soft waves, a stubborn curl brushing his forehead. He stood cloaked in mystery and intrigue, making him seem dark and foreboding. And he was too d*mn attractive for his own good.

"Were you going to walk the streets in a robe and tennis shoes?"

I rolled my eyes. "If I wanted to, I could."

"Get dressed," he commanded, throwing the clothes he had tucked under his arm at me. "You didn't eat your sandwich, so you can take it with you. If you want more to eat, you can eat on the plane."

My eyes popped. "Plane? What plane? I'm not getting on a plane with you."

"Yes, you are. It's because of you I had to push back my business meeting and if we don't get going, I'll have to postpone it all together."

"You forget, Mr. Harper, I didn't ask you to jump in after me."

"Well, I did. So, put your clothes on or you can wear my robe on the plane. I don't care either way."

I huffed in frustration, kicking off my shoes. "You're taking this protective thing a little too far."

"Get used to it."

I stepped into my jeans and tugged them up. They were still damp. "This really isn't necessary."

He turned his back to me. "Oh, I think it is. Put your sweater on."

I huffed again, angrily snapping on my bra then slipping on my sweater.

"I'm dressed."

He turned again, nodding his head toward me. He brushed pass and opened a door to a hall closet. He removed a navy, wool trench coat and handed it to me.

"Put it on."

I tossed the coat around my shoulders. It smelled like him, too.

Wordlessly, he unlocked the door, raised it, and shut it behind him. I followed behind like a trained seal -- waiting for him to command me, throw me a scrap, pet me on the head and call me a good girl.