"I'm just fascinated, Quinn. I didn't know what all those little knobs were for."
He shot her a sideways glance and pointed in front of him. "This is called a pan."
"Could you go over that one more time?"
"Just hand over the chicken, Miss Adams," he said. "Do you have a preference between breasts and thighs?"
As she reached for the plate of chicken Quinn had already seasoned, she felt her heart pound. "Which do you prefer, Detective?"
He turned to her, eyes searing like olive green lasers. "Don't make me choose, Homey. That would be cruel."
She nodded, feeling a rush of heat from her toes up through her solar plexus to the top of her head. She handed him the chicken, realizing she'd never been this nervous around raw poultry, or around a man.
All through dinner she kept wondering why Quinn hadn't kissed her that afternoon or that night. She wondered why he wasn't teasing her to the usual degree. She thought maybe it was because he was worried about her, and she wasn't sure if she liked the idea of that.
Later, they sat together on the leather couch, tucked into opposite ends, their legs and bare feet stretched out alongside each other. It was just a leg, she reasoned with herself, and there was no reason that the warm touch of his skin and the soft brush of his body hair should be sending crackles of electricity up her spine.
There was no reason such innocent contact should make her hands sweat. And there was certainly no call for her heart to slam under her ribs the way it was.
"Stop it," she whispered to her own heart.
"I'm not doing anything," Quinn said.
"Oh. Not you! I … forget it."
She watched helplessly as Quinn took a sip of his white wine, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. Wow. Lightning bolt time. He was one damn fine-looking man. She saw the sharp line of his jaw, the lean muscles down his neck, his Adam's apple, and the peek of his collarbone beneath the T-shirt.
Audie knew all she had to say was, "OK. Now," and Quinn would be on her like a cheap suit. She took a sip of her own wine and cleared the thought from her brain, reminding herself that this was uncharted waters for her. There was something waiting for her with Quinn—she could feel it. And it was big and scary and she didn't have a name for it.
The theme music from Jaws pounded in her brain.
OK, fine. She was attracted to him. But she could handle it. Besides, sex with him would probably be anticlimactic, run-of-the-mill stuff. She was building this up for no good reason. Quinn would be just like every other man she'd ever been with—somewhere between better than nothing and almost wonderful.
Wouldn't he?
She placed her wineglass on the coffee table. "Be right back," she said, standing up.
Quinn watched her do a header over the ottoman.
"You all right there, Homey?" He raised up lazily to see her scramble to her feet, yank down her tank top, and shake her hair.
"Couldn't be better," she huffed, walking toward the wine bottle on the kitchen counter. Quinn watched her straighten those wide, smooth shoulders and gracefully swing her arms. She looked extraordinary in a tank top, with all the good parts highlighted in case a man had poor vision.
Next he watched the sweet roundness of her body moving beneath thin cotton drawstring shorts. The shorts looked comfortable on her. His shorts were rapidly becoming uncomfortable on him.
Quinn slowly shook his head.
This woman was something else. She couldn't lie if her life depended on it. Obviously, every time she tried to be something she wasn't or walk away from the truth, she fell on her face.
She'd probably been sitting there telling herself she didn't want to go to bed with him. Then bam!—face-first on the floor.
Now that's the kind of woman a guy could feel secure with, unlike Laura. It still bothered him that here he was, a man who cut through lies and secrets for a living, and he hadn't noticed that his own girlfriend was unfaithful. She'd been a very smooth liar.
"Want some more wine?" Quinn looked up at Audie appreciatively. She was gorgeous—all soft and round shapes on a firm, solid frame—and right then he couldn't help but stare at the undersides of her breasts, and he was certain she wasn't wearing a bra.
Had he run his tongue over those breasts? Maybe the rise of her flesh just above her nipples? He couldn't remember. Did he get a chance on the sidewalk? No, not there. The deck? He might have…
She was smiling down at him. They'd had another good run today, and he loved to have an excuse to watch her pushing herself physically, sweating, breathing hard, those little wet curls sticking to the skin on her neck.
Autumn Adams was definitely going to be worth waiting for.
"Yo, Quinn. Wine?"
He looked up at her warily. "Sure. Thanks."
Audie poured herself another glass and went back to her corner, returning her legs to their previous position—skin to skin. She sighed.
"Uh, can I ask you a question, Audie?"
Quinn watched her roll her eyes, just as he knew she would.
"What now, Stacey?"
He snickered a little, appreciating this little game they played. Audie pretended like she didn't want him inside her head, but she did. He could tell. She was only taking it slow, just like she said she had to.
"What part of the letter upset you the most this morning?"
She looked right at him but didn't answer.
"Was it the part about not having a family?"
She nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yeah," she whispered.
"I'm sorry, Audie. That was mean stuff."
She nodded again.
"I need to ask you how much you've talked to Timmy Burke about your family."
"What?" Audie jerked back. "Tim Burke?"
"Yeah. Did you tell him about your family? Would he know a lot of the details of what it was like for you growing up?"
"No, of course not." Audie was frowning. "Tim was more interested in talking about himself. We never really got around to me."
Quinn smiled. "Sounds about right."
"He's not sending those letters, Quinn."
"Then how do you explain all the flowers, the phone calls, the late-night visits here to your place?"
Audie groaned and shut her eyes. "Marjorie has a really big mouth."
"She's worried about you, and I don't blame her. Why didn't you tell me about Timmy? It's a real important piece of information that I should have had from the beginning."
"Because he's not sending the letters, Quinn! God, you've got this thing about Tim Burke, don't you?" She tipped her head and stared at him. "What happened between the two of you? The day I gave you my stupid list I watched you practically boil over just at the sight of his name. What's the deal here?"
She watched Quinn hop up from the couch, taking his leg with him.
He paced for a moment before he came around and sat down on the teak coffee table right in front of her. Audie straightened up and looked at his face. She went cold.
Quinn leveled his gaze at her. "I'm going to tell you about me and Timmy."
"All right." She had a feeling this was about more than a schoolyard brawl.
"Part of it is old stuff. It happened seventeen years ago, but I live with it every day. It's about my brother John."
Audie frowned. "I didn't even know you had a brother named John. You've only told me about Patrick and Michael."
"That's because John died when he was eight years old. I let him die."
Quinn's expression horrified Audie. She'd seen arrogance, desire, anger, and humor in those green-and-gold eyes but nothing like this. She didn't know what to say, so she stayed quiet and just let him talk.
"John was the baby and he was a handful, let me tell you. He had a couple different learning disabilities and we couldn't turn our back on him for a second. He'd roam the neighborhood, go into other people's houses, eat food out of their refrigerators, disappear for hours. It drove my mother insane.
"I remember t
his one time he vanished at night, and from dinner to midnight we were scouring the neighborhood. My parents were a wreck and Da had half of District Twenty-two out cruising the streets, going door-to-door.
"Finally, our neighbor Mrs. Geleski comes over to the house. She'd been getting into bed for the night and heard somebody breathing next to her—the poor woman just about had a coronary. She looks over and sees John crammed down in the space between her bed and the wall. He was sawing logs, peaceful as could be."
"Good grief," Audie said.
"So that was John. And one day when I was seventeen, I was supposed to be on John duty when Timmy and I started fighting over a girl—Mary Beth Horan. We were busy beating the crap out of each other and John got hit by a car, right in front of me, killed instantly."
Audie stopped breathing. She watched him hang his head. "Oh, Quinn."
"Timmy and I had been at each other's throats since elementary school." Quinn kept his eyes down. "Hockey, soccer, academics, girls—we competed in everything—but by high school it was usually just girls.
"So that day he was telling me all this crap about what he did to Mary Beth—I was wild about her—and I completely forgot about John. He rode his bike right out into the middle of Artesian Avenue
and got hit."
Quinn rubbed his face with both hands and groaned, looking up at Audie again. "I ran to my brother and started screaming for help, and that's when I see Timmy walking down the sidewalk, real slow, with a smile on his face. Then I heard him laughing."
The devastation in Quinn's eyes blasted a hole right through Audie's heart.
"I wanted you to understand why I don't like Timothy Burke."
"I understand," she said softly.
"And that's not all." Quinn ran his hands through his hair and slumped forward, letting his elbows rest on his knees. His face was just inches from Audie's now, and she could feel the rage building in him again.
"Recently, I was with a woman named Laura. She and I were together for almost three years."
"I know," Audie said.
He looked surprised.
"Stanny-O told me."
He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. "What else did he tell you?"
"That he thought you were eventually going to marry her, but she left you and moved to Miami. That's all he told me."
Quinn nodded slowly. "Mmm. Well, she did move to Miami, but as far as marrying her … no. I don't think so." Quinn's eyes stayed on Audie for several long seconds, and she saw him weighing something in his mind.
"In fact, Laura got very pissed when I said I wasn't ready to settle down with her. So she started seeing Timmy Burke on the side, for several months at least. I don't know all the details. I don't want to know them. But the juicy part is she knew all about my history with Timmy when she did it—kind of the ultimate kick in the nuts."
"Good God. When was this?"
Quinn's eyes looked so tired. He looked so defeated. "Last spring. I found out in April."
Audie stared at him and felt her face go hot. Then she hissed in disgust. "April? I was seeing Tim then."
He nodded a little and smiled grimly. "Small world, huh?"
"Wow." She felt sick to her stomach. "But we never … uh…" Audie shook her head. "Look. We weren't—you know—involved. He took me to dinner quite a few times and I went to a lot of functions with him, but I…" Why did she feel she needed to explain herself to Quinn? "I didn't like him much. I asked him not to call me anymore. And I was hoping that would be the end of it."
"He told me the other day that he was in love with you."
Audie's eyes went wide. "Oh, hell."
"He told me you went down on him in the car."
"What!?" She jolted to her feet in the narrow space between them, and Quinn was suddenly staring at her belly button and a narrow strip of exposed skin above her shorts.
"Audie. Sit down." He pulled her next to him on the table. She was shaking with anger.
"I'm sorry, but I thought you should know what he was saying."
"My God. The guy is absolute scum."
"I didn't believe him, though."
She stared at him openmouthed. "Well, thanks a million."
"He also said you were 'coming around' and that you two were getting back together."
"Like hell!" She tried to stand up again, but Quinn grabbed her wrists and pulled her down in his lap.
"So that's the story with Timmy Burke."
"God, Quinn." Her mind cleared and she remembered how this whole conversation had begun—with his little brother dying.
She placed her hand against Quinn's upturned face. "I'm so sorry about John." Her fingers brushed against his cheek. "I'm so sorry that happened. I don't know what to say."
Though his eyes were shadowed by old grief, it did nothing to dull the power there, the intensity, and Audie felt herself shiver in his gaze.
"Just say that from now on you'll tell me anything that might pertain to your case—about Timmy or anyone else—OK?"
She nodded, allowing herself to see things through Quinn's eyes. Maybe Tim Burke was more than just an annoyance. Maybe he was an honest-to-God stalker.
"I refuse to let anything happen to you, Audie."
She nodded again, helpless in his stare and burning up because she was touching him, because the backs of her thighs were pressed down into the hard muscle of his legs.
"Even if it's not Burke, it's somebody. But I'll keep you safe."
The hell he would. Audie was perfectly aware that she'd never be safe around Stacey Quinn—not when he made her heart pound and her blood throb and when he smelled so good and felt so hot against her skin.
Maybe safety was highly overrated.
She dipped her mouth to his because she just couldn't fight it anymore, and his response was serious and sure and Audie felt him moan deep in his chest as his hands cupped her bottom and he pulled her tighter.
Audie devoured him. She grabbed on to his shoulders and kissed the man like the world was coming to an end and this was the last kiss she'd ever be able to give him, her last chance to convince Quinn that it was good to be alive.
Her tongue slid into his warm, wet mouth, and she brought her teeth down on his lips and he tasted like hot wine and hot man. She could feel him begin to smile under her kisses, and she felt his hand slide over the contours of her hips.
Then his hands were up the back of her tank top and his touch seared her skin, and suddenly she sensed that she was moving up and coming to rest on the couch, Quinn now on top of her, Quinn now covering her with his hard weight and his clean smell. His hands were roaming up the front of her shirt, and when his fingers touched the sensitive tips of her breasts she groaned with relief.
"Oh, God, woman," he whispered. "Do you have any idea how sexy you are?"
"Medium sexy?" she mumbled.
"Wrong. Very, very wrong."
Quinn put his mouth on her throat and she leaned her head back so he'd have more room to do whatever it was he was doing with his tongue and teeth and lips.
"I have a confession to make," Audie whispered between hard breaths, her head lolling to the side.
"Confessions cleanse the soul."
"This is not a clean confession."
"Those are the best kind."
"You are the sexiest man I've ever known in my entire life, Stacey Quinn." She grabbed his butt and pulled him against her, arching under him to feel how hard he was.
"You're a pushy little Protestant thing, aren't you?" He reached behind him and pulled her hands from his ass and pushed them over her head, pinning them to the armrest with one hand.
"Do you like to play rough, Audie?" He laughed when her eyes flashed wide beneath him, and he thought it was time he let the tip of his tongue take that long, hot slide up her throat
When he did, all she could do was gasp.
Quinn raised up and used his other hand to shove the soft cotton top up under her chin. No bra, just Audie, and she was disp
layed beneath him and he could hardly believe he wasn't dreaming.
He brushed his palm over one fabulous, golden, round breast, then the other, enjoying how her toffee-pink nipples peaked with the barest friction.
"What are we doing this time, Audie?"
"You're giving me another foot massage."
"Wow." Quinn dipped his head and nibbled on a nipple. "Then I should have been a podiatrist," he whispered.
The sound of her low, throaty chuckle made him close his eyes in pleasure. When he reopened them, he saw her sweet laughing face, those dark eyes and darker lashes, her plump mouth. She was beauty and softness and sex beneath him, and he'd never wanted a woman so much in his life.
"Would you kiss me again, Quinn?"
A wave of exquisite heat rolled through his groin.
"If you'd kiss me back."
The instant his lips touched hers, Audie lost whatever bit of control she thought she had. Her response was beyond control, beyond reason. She knew she wasn't ready for this, that this would likely end just as badly as every other relationship, but her body gave her no choice in the matter. At that moment, all she wanted was to give to him, take from him, die in the heat of him. It was exhilarating. It was scary and intense and it was building and building.
He dragged his lips down her throat, over the clump of tank top, and then down to her breasts. His tongue was hot and his teeth were gentle and skilled, and she began to writhe beneath him, her wrists still pinned above her head.
"You're very spicy, Audie." His voice was scratchy and low. "I've been wondering how you would taste and you taste spicy."
"But my spices aren't alphabetized."
"I don't give a fuck."
Her giggle turned to a moan when he bit down on a nipple, then caressed it with his tongue.
"Oh, God."
He released her hands and let his mouth travel down her smooth stomach. Her hands rippled along his shoulders and neck as he kissed her belly button and pressed his lips against the front of her shorts. Then he raised his head to see her stretched out on the couch, reaching for him, half-naked and all his.
"Come here to me, Audie," Quinn said, and he cupped his hands under her bottom and pulled down on her shorts and underwear, until a mound of dark curls appeared before him.