KNOCK ME OFF MY FEET

  "I thought you said I was the most aggravating man you ever met in your life. So how can I make you happy?" His hands were sliding up and down the front of her blouse, and her nipples stiffened with each pass of his palms. He leaned forward and began to nibble at her through the slippery fabric, his mouth leaving little wet marks all over the front of her.

  "Oh, God, that was weeks ago—now you just make me completely insane." She gasped. "Especially when you do that."

  "We're going inside, Homey." Quinn stood up from the chair with Audie still attached to his lap and hurled open the kitchen door. She assumed they were headed for the bedroom, but she was wrong. Quinn set her down on the kitchen counter, right over the built-in dishwasher, right next to the sink full of soaking pots and pans.

  "Here's another good reason to clean off the counter as you go," he said.

  Audie started laughing, but Quinn's mouth was on hers and, as it often was with him, the line between laughter and bone-melting pleasure blurred. With him, they almost seemed to be the same thing.

  "God, what are you doing, Quinn?" His hands were at her hips and he was pulling her running shorts and underwear out from under her.

  "I want you naked in front of my dishwasher."

  "I'm on top of the dishwasher."

  "Same diff." He yanked the blouse over her head, then the bra.

  By the time he grabbed her legs and hooked them over his shoulders, his eyes were drilling into hers and his smile had grown completely wicked. Audie was nearly hyperventilating.

  "How about whipped cream? Damn, I don't have any. Hold on."

  "What do you have?" It occurred to Audie how bizarre it was to be chatting in this position, naked, sitting on top of a dishwasher, her legs flung over the shoulders of a man in an apron.

  "How about some honey, honey?"

  "Honey?" Audie let her head fall back because what she was imagining made her brain too heavy to hold upright. Then she felt him shift in front of her, heard him groan. She looked up, and he was opening the cabinet directly overhead. "Perfect."

  Next, it occurred to her that despite the fact that she was thirty years old, she was about to have another first.

  He crooked his arms beneath her legs and unscrewed the lid to the honey jar. She closed her eyes. Then she heard the utensil drawer slide out to her left and heard him grumbling as he searched for something. A melon bailer? A garlic press? She tried not to think about it.

  "Now we're cookin' with gas," Quinn muttered in his gravelly voice. Audie opened her eyes to see him dip a little wooden drizzler into the jar until it was heavy with slow-dripping honey.

  He was enjoying this—she could tell by the glint in his eye—and he leaned closer to her and whispered, "Say 'Ahhhh.'"

  Audie was trembling, but she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue and the honey was cool and sweet and sticky inside her mouth. Then Quinn was there—hot and slippery and sharing it with her—and she released herself to the heat and the taste and the licking and sucking and swallowing and she realized she'd never see a jar of honey quite the same way ever again.

  "You taste like sex and candy," Quinn said, pulling back. "And I'm going to take bites out of you everywhere if that's all right with you."

  Audie nodded, running her tongue over the sticky outside of her lips, trying not to shake too much.

  "Are you cold?" Quinn put down the honey and Audie realized he was about to lower her legs—which was something she definitely did not want him to do—so she locked her ankles behind his neck and pulled him closer.

  "I'm not cold, Quinn. I'm very, very hot, and I want to be your dessert."

  Quinn's eyes fastened on hers and his shoulders started to shake. "You really are depraved."

  "So arrest me." She loosened her grip on him and leaned back on her elbows.

  Quinn picked up the honey again, still laughing, and began drizzling little golden puddles on her deep rose nipples. "Where have you been all my life, woman?" He lowered his head and brought his lips to her sticky, puckered flesh.

  "I think I've been waiting for you to find me, Quinn," she breathed. "To find me and pour honey on me until I come all over your countertop."

  The vibration of his deep chuckle sent little buzzing streaks of heat through her breasts right down to the hot spot between her legs. She watched Quinn's mouth on her, his honeyed tongue gliding out from his smile to lick at her, and she trembled again.

  "You're yummy," he murmured, pulling one nipple into his mouth and biting her softly. When she moaned, he did the same to the other nipple, then drew wide circles around her breasts with his tongue, eventually coming back to her mouth, hot and wet and sweet.

  His hands suddenly reached under her bottom to pull her closer to the edge of the counter. He put his lips to her ear.

  "Audie, baby, come here to me," he whispered, and it was his voice again, his voice and the simple things he said, that was pure sex to her, that made her take the leap from sensible woman to anything Quinn wanted her to be.

  As the honey dribbled down into the curls between her legs and trickled deep into the lips of her vulva, she wondered if she'd ever feel safe enough to tell Quinn how much power he had over her. How much she wanted him.

  Then she stopped wondering anything at all, because what he was doing was so good, so good, and his tongue was hot and firm, then barely a whisper, then long and slow and all over her.

  "Oh, God, this is nice," Quinn thought he heard her say, but the blood thundered in his head so loud that he was nearly deaf. That was fine, because he didn't need his ears for what he was doing right now—all he needed was his tongue and his lips and his teeth and the searing hot place at the center of Audie, pressed up to him.

  He pulled her up higher and angled her to his mouth, gripping her around the waist. She was sweet, so sweet, and he used his fingers to spread her wide and put one finger deep inside her, then two, and felt how slick and swollen this woman was and knew he would do anything for her, anything she wanted.

  She suddenly clutched and hardened around his fingers and against his mouth. She let out a piercing cry that gave him goosebumps and she was calling his name and he licked into her, pushed his fingers into her deeper, faster, and her arms flailed out to her sides and the spice rack crashed to the stove in an explosion of broken glass and a pungent blast of rosemary, curry powder, and cream of tartar all spewed out in an unalphabetized mess.

  "I'm so sorry!" Audie tried to sit up, tried to breathe, but Quinn lifted her off the counter and spun around.

  "Is there glass on you?"

  Audie could barely focus on his words. Her body was still spinning and clutching, and for a second she couldn't remember why she was naked.

  Then she was being carried to the living room against Quinn's bright green apron and she wanted his clothes off, wanted to touch his skin, wanted to feel him against her all hot and smooth and strong.

  He put her down in front of one of the big overstuffed chairs and brushed his hands over her skin, and Audie finally came out of her fog.

  "Quinn." She grabbed him by the shoulders. "I'm fine and there isn't any glass on me. I'm so sorry I did that."

  He stopped and stared at her, tasting her in his mouth and realizing he was hard as steel and wanted her to sit on him—and he didn't give a shit about his spice rack or the dirty dishes.

  He ripped off his clothes and made himself comfortable in the chair, his feet on the floor and his erection pointed toward the ceiling.

  "I just had a great idea," he said, grinning.

  Audie walked toward him slowly, scanning all of his long, lean muscle, his blatant arousal, and the startlingly beautiful face.

  "I bet it's the same idea I have," she whispered.

  She climbed up on his lap, straddled his thighs, and positioned herself right above him. She leaned down to kiss him softly, then nibbled on his jawline and bit the side of his neck.

  "Will you tell me your idea first, Quinn?" she breathed into his ear.
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  She got what she wanted—the low rumble of his laugh moved through her blood and bone, and she knew she was right where she was supposed to be.

  "My idea was I fuck you blind," he said.

  She pulled back in mock disappointment. "But I wanted to do that to you," she pouted.

  "I'm flexible."

  Audie watched the change in his expression as she slid onto him just enough to capture the big head of his penis. She waited, feeling him throb inside her, feeling her body kiss and squeeze him, seeing how he fought the urge to thrust all the way into her.

  He was gorgeous. He was sweet to her. And it was magic to watch the surprise and joy on his face when she eased down very slow and took him in very deep.

  "I'm so happy when I'm with you, Quinn," she sighed, seeing his grin spread.

  Then she wiped the grin right off his face.

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  « ^ »

  Finding out which soundstage would host the Chicago Garda Pipe and Drum Band was the easy part. Getting there on time was proving to be a real challenge.

  Human beings of every description were packed into Grant Park in a loud, hot, and airless press of bodies, slithering under a cloud of cooking smoke. Griffin held tight to Audie's hand as they made their way down what was supposed to be the center thoroughfare at CityFest.

  "It's a good thing I'm not claustrophobic," Griffin said to her. "Because I'd be flipping out right about now."

  "This is nuts!" Audie yelled, pushing her way eastward. "I don't want to be late! Let's try to go faster."

  Audie got slammed into Griffin again. "Ack! Hurry! Come on!"

  Somewhere past the Vietnamese food tent and the chili booth, Audie spied the bandstand where a few men in kilts milled around while recorded Irish music blasted.

  She didn't see Quinn anywhere, but as they pressed closer, all the musicians began to file onstage and she heard the unmistakable voice of Jamie Quinn booming over the sound system.

  "Welcome to the sixth annual CityFest performance of the Chicago Police Department's own Garda Pipe and Drum Band!"

  A cheer went up from the mob and Audie pulled Griffin into the thick of it, worming her way to the front.

  "I'm supposed to meet Quinn's family here, but I'm never going to find them in this mess!" she cried.

  "We'll be playing a variety of tunes for you today—everything from hymns to reels and jigs and an occasional tear jerker," Jamie said just as they made it to the edge of the stage.

  Audie was breathless as she scanned the rows of men and women above her. Her eyes finally landed on Quinn, directly before her, front and center.

  "We'll be doing three sets, so hang around, eat a lot, and don't forget to drink. Because you know our motto—"

  Every cop onstage and half of the crowd called out in unison: "The more you drink the better we sound!"

  "Oh, shit, mon!" Griffin yelled into Audie's ear. "I've died and gone to Irish cop hell!"

  Audie couldn't laugh—she was too busy staring up at Quinn in shock. Then her head nearly caved in from the gut-rumbling drone that split the air—the sound of forty-five bagpipes warming up.

  "Is this your way of punishing me for all those Saturday nights at the Wild Hare reggae club?" Griffin screamed.

  She just smacked his arm and kept staring.

  Well now. This was not exactly what she expected to feel, was it? She gawked at the sight before her, realizing that if she considered each element independently, the sight of Stacey Quinn in a skirt, kneesocks, and a dorky little hat should send her into fits of laughter.

  But she wasn't laughing. Instead she took in the complete picture of him and her heart jumped into her mouth. He was magnificent. He looked strong and proud and so sexy it should be illegal. And as they began to play, his face pulled in concentration as he blew into the mouthpiece and his fingers flew over a single row of airholes.

  The sound was deep and crushing, and Audie looked around to see an audience full of people just like her, looking up with awe. Some were smiling with joy and others were frowning with absorption, but nobody could be bored by this musical assault.

  Audie observed how Quinn's mouth and hands caressed the gangly, primitive-looking pipes, and she couldn't help but think of the way he used his mouth and hands on her. She saw the ripple in the muscles of his neck, forearms, and wrists as he coaxed out the notes—much like the way he coaxed out the pleasure in her.

  Her body trembled despite the heat.

  "You all right?"

  Audie turned to Griffin and nodded. "Just a little overwhelmed!" she shouted.

  Jamie stood right next to his son, looking like a big gray bear in plaid, his legs as thick as tree trunks. Jamie's face was rigid with concentration and radiated the same delight she saw in Quinn.

  They obviously loved doing this, and their joy was contagious. Audie broke out in a wide, happy grin.

  Just then Quinn looked down at her and winked, his hands still flying. She winked back.

  "You know what these Celtic types wear under their kilts, don't you?" Griffin shouted into her ear.

  "Not a thing?"

  "That's what I hear."

  Audie crossed her arms under her breasts and closed her eyes, letting the music sweep over her, carry her to another place. And before she knew it, the Garda Pipe and Drum Band was done with its first set.

  Somewhere in the middle of a song Jamie had introduced as "Roddy McCorley," Audie felt a tug on the hem of her sundress and looked down to the smiling face of Kiley Quinn, then around to see Sheila, Little Pat, Michael, and Pat crowding around. She introduced Griffin to everyone, caught Kiley when she jumped into her arms, and spent much of the next hour hopping up and down in the hot afternoon sun, Kiley's laughter ringing in her ear.

  Sheila took her daughter for most of the third set, and Audie enjoyed the slower melodies Pat said were called airs, and he apparently knew all the words.

  "I take it you've been to this show before?" Audie asked him.

  Pat's eyes creased in amusement as he smiled at Audie. "Just a time or two," he said, wrinkling his nose.

  Just then, Audie felt a set of smooth hands run over her bare arms, and she turned around to see Tim Burke smiling down at her, looking cool, blond, and debonair in his khaki summer suit.

  He offered Griffin a firm, friendly handshake that Griffin ended abruptly, then turned to Pat for a much less hearty greeting.

  "Pat."

  "Timmy."

  Audie's entire body began humming with the awareness that something very, very bad was about to happen. Based on just the few details she'd been given, the prospect of mixing Tim Burke with beer and the entire Quinn family sounded downright unsafe.

  She had the mental picture of one of her home ec projects gone awry.

  Before she realized it, Tim had leaned in and kissed her on her cheek. He let his lips stray to her ear and he whispered hoarsely, "You look good enough to eat today, sweetheart."

  Audie jerked away. "What? Get lost. I'm listening to the band." She was also feeling the eyes of every Quinn on her, from Kiley all the way up to Jamie.

  Audie risked looking up at Quinn, and his deep green eyes met hers with a flash of something between rage and sadness, and Audie felt sick to her stomach. Then Quinn suddenly lost pressure in the bag and the melody line dissolved in an off-key groan.

  Jamie threw his son a look of daggers, and Quinn got back on track.

  Audie heard Tim sniggering in her ear. "Oh, yes. They're quite a talented bunch of drunks."

  She stiffened, not only at his words but also at the sight of Michael pushing closer, his face red and his body puffed up and ready for a fight.

  "I don't understand you, Audie," Tim continued, still close to her ear. "You're sending me mixed messages."

  She turned around and scowled. "What mixed messages?"

  "Well, you've not returned any of my calls, but then I get one of your nice—"

  "Get the hell out of
my face! How about that for being clear?" she shouted.

  Audie realized that Griffin was slowly backing away and pulling on her arm, his eyes bouncing from Tim to Quinn to Michael to Jamie to Pat and back to her.

  Tim leaned into her and touched her hair. "Don't be fooled, Audie. The Quinns are scum. If you want the real thing, come back to me."

  Michael was upon them now, his face crimson, and she felt Griffin grab her shoulders and pull her away just as the roar of bagpipes deflated into a sour wail and something—or someone—sailed over her head.

  Quinn landed with a thump right on top of Tim Burke, pinning him to the asphalt.

  "No fucking way, mon," was Griffin's commentary as Audie stood with her mouth hanging open, shaking her head, watching Quinn flip Tim onto his stomach and slip a pair of handcuffs over his wrists.

  The shocked crowd eased back as most of the band members jumped from the stage and pulled their weapons on the vice mayor, now facedown on the sticky ice-cream-and-pizza-smeared blacktop.

  "For the love of Christ, put your weapons away!" shouted the man Audie recognized as Commander Connelly. "Get back up on the stage!"

  Jamie pulled his son off Tim Burke and glared at him with annoyance. Then he clamped one thick fist around Tim's shirt collar and pulled him up from the ground, releasing the handcuffs.

  Tim began to curse and spit with rage and embarrassment.

  Jamie gave him a friendly push forward. "Go away, Timmy," he said softly.

  Tim staggered toward Quinn, wiping part of a crushed hot dog bun off his cheek, but Quinn stood calmly. He put a shaking finger in Quinn's face. "You're going to pay."

  Quinn didn't flinch. "If you come anywhere near her again, I'll kill you with my bare hands."

  Tim Burke took one second to stare at Quinn with hate, turned his glare on Audie, then stalked off through the crowd.

  Only then did Quinn turn to see Audie. She stood silent, her eyes huge, her mouth open, clutching Griffin's arm.

  "Are you all right?"

  She gaped at him.