A Private Affair. Donna Hill

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A Private Affair

      MILLS & BOON

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      A Private Affair

      Donna Hill

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Acknowledgments

      My sincere thanks and appreciation to all of my readers who have supported me throughout the years. I feel blessed that A Private Affair is getting a second life and that my beloved character Quinten Parker will reach into your hearts once again. Be sure to collect the entire trilogy—A Private Affair, Pieces of Dreams and Through the Fire—love stories that will stand the test of time. Thank you all so much! Enjoy.

      Contents

      BOOK ONE

      PART ONEQuinn

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      PART TWONikita

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      PART THREEMaxine

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      Chapter 22

      Chapter 23

      Chapter 24

      Chapter 25

      Chapter 26

      Chapter 27

      Chapter 28

      BOOK TWO

      Chapter 29

      Chapter 30

      Chapter 31

      Epilogue

BOOK ONE PART ONE

      Chapter 1

      Quinn poked his head around the partially open bathroom door, shouting over the steam and rush of water. “I’ll check ya later, ’round midnight.”

      Lacy parted the opaque shower curtain, shouting over the surge of water. “Not again, Quinten. You just got in. I thought you were staying for dinner. Maxine’s coming over. When are you going to eat?”

      Quinn chuckled deep in his throat. “Chill, sis. I’ll grab a little somethin’.”

      She snatched the curtain shut. “Yeah, but what?” she grumbled, her question full of cynicism. She worried about her twin brother, more than she’d ever let on. The reality was, all they had was each other. And living in the heart of Harlem, New York, with its available drugs, rampant gang wars and random shootings, reiterated their oneness all the more. She also knew that no amount of haranguing would keep her brother off the street. The lure, the mystery, the danger and excitement, were his mistresses. He couldn’t seem to get enough and kept going back for more. She knew Quinn had so much more to offer than just protection for local “businessmen.” If they could just get out of the neighborhood, he stood a chance of surviving. They stood a chance.

      “Later! Tell Maxie I’ll catch her another time,” he called, shutting the door behind him.

      Lacy threw up a silent prayer for her brother’s safe return, a proven ritual of her deep spirituality. They had to get out of this neighborhood, she vowed again. Quinn had no desire to move, and she’d promised herself she’d never leave him behind. But maybe when he saw the duplex apartment she’d found on the border of Greenwich Village he’d change his mind. The landlady was willing to hold the apartment for two more weeks. That’s all the time she needed to get the rest of the money. “Two more weeks.” She sighed, shutting off the water. “Just two more weeks.”

      Quinn sauntered down the semi-darkened avenue, assuming the rhythmic gait of the hood, his shoulder-length dreadlocks swinging to the hip-hop beat of his stride. He’d opted to walk this balmy spring night in lieu of driving his black BMW 750i. He needed to see and feel the pulse of the street, from the boom boxes that blared the outrage of inner-city life to the sweet-funky smell of greasy fried chicken, shrimp lo mein and chopped barbecue that wafted from the every-other-corner fast-food joints, Caribbean roti shops and Hispanic bodegas.

      By rote he gave the barest rise of his chin in a show of cool acknowledgment to the rows of regulars who sat, posed, slumped, leaned, stood and harmonized along the stretch of Malcolm X Boulevard. He checked his watch. Twenty minutes.

      As he continued toward his destination he wondered if his mother was holed up in one of the numerous tenements with yet another dude. His teeth clenched reflexively at the vision. He hadn’t laid eyes on his mother in more than ten years. She’d walked out on him and Lacy when they were only sixteen. “Ya’ll grown now,” she’d said. “And can take care of yo’ selves. It’s my time now.” She’d turned, walked out of the door and they hadn’t seen or heard from her since.

      Even now, after all those years, Quinn still felt that bottomless emptiness in the pit of his stomach that burned like old garbage in the cans that kept the homeless warm. He felt some irrational guilt, that his mother’s abandonment was somehow his fault. He’d tried to fill the СКАЧАТЬ