Knock Me Off My Feet

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. Helooked 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 singlerow 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 seeSheila, 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 theasphalt.

"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.

"Audie! Are you all right?"

"Am I all right?" Her body was shaking from the sudden drop in adrenaline as she screamed at the top of her lungs, "I'm fine! But you people are completely insane!"

Jamie chuckled at that and moved everyone back up on-stage, leaving Quinn to stare at her and catch his breath. "Did he hurt you?"

"Hurt me?" Audie moved from Griffin 's side to stand in front of Quinn. The pipes started up again, without their star player, and Quinn had to shout at her so she could hear him.

"Did he touch you?"

"What are you talking about, Quinn? Do you mean to tell me you did all that just because he touched me?"

"We'll talk about this after the set."

She shook her head and gestured toward the city skyline. "I don't think so. I'm leaving." She started through the crowd, quickly saying good-bye to his family, Griffin jogging behind her. Quinn yelled after her and turned on his heels, weaving through the press of bodies until he caught up with her.

"Audie." He touched her shoulder and she spun to face him.

"I'll get you an Italian ice!" Griffin shouted in her ear, nodding toward Quinn as he turned away.

"What the hell were you doing?" She knocked her fists against his chest, hitting him in his brass nameplate. "Somebody could have been hurt! The kids saw everything!"

Quinn looked stricken and rubbed a hand across his chin and down the perspiration on his throat. "All I could think was he was going to hurt you."

She started to laugh but abruptly stopped as she understood his words. She stared at him in disbelief. "The letters? You thought Tim Burke was going to murder me right here in front of thousands of people?"

"I'm not sure what I thought, Audie. All I know is I saw his hands on you and I wanted to kill the man."

"God! I can't believe this!" She turned to go, but he reached for her wrist and gripped her tight.

"Please hear me out."

She jerked back from his touch. "No! You're an unstable, gun-toting neat freak! Your little show just now scared me much more than any letters ever have!" Before she knew it, the tears started to well in her eyes. She turned to run.

The pipes were reaching a crescendo and Quinn took a huge breath to shout as loud as he was able, "I love you, Audie!"-and the words exploded from his lungs just as the song ended and before the applause began, perfectly timed for the full appreciation of the CityFest crowd.

"Go for it!" Michael's booming voice rang out behind Quinn, and he cringed. Quinn hung his head as the band cheered him on from the stage.

Audie's arms fell uselessly to her sides and she turned slowly, her head spinning, feeling the eyes of hundreds of beer-swilling, egg-roll-eating Chicagoans now fixed on her and the guy in the kilt.

Quinn looked up from his cower, his eyes pleading. "I couldn't let him hurt you."

"Oh, this is just great, Quinn." Audie shook her head, aware that her knees were feeling weak and she was a hair's breadth away from sobbing. "You love me? This is getting completely out of control."

"That happened a few days ago, really," Quinn offered.

She stared, nodded, and felt relief that at least the band had started playing again. It was some kind of happy jig that had people clapping and dancing instead of staring at her and Quinn.

She looked at him for a long moment but couldn't bear what she saw-too much honesty and too much love. She stared down at her sandals until Quinn's spats appeared in her line of vision.

"Look at me, Audie," he said.

She would only hurt him. She knew she would only hurt him.

She raised her eyes. His gaze locked with hers. And though she knew this was the biggest mistake she'd ever make in her life, she reached out and touched his chest, right where she'd so recently pummeled him. His skin felt hot beneath the white uniform shirt. His heart was beating fast.

"Quinn, I-"

A voice boomed down from the heavens. "Hey, Fabio-get your arse up here so we can finish our set!" Jamie's words echoed through the speakers, and the laughter rolled and rocked through the Grant Park crowd.

"Meet me by the stage?"

Quinn's little-boy uncertainty was showing again, and all Audie could do was smile and nod. He started to go, but she grabbed his shirt and popped up on her toes to whisper in his ear.

"What's under your get-up, Detective?" In case he missed the point, she bit his earlobe.

He pulled back, grinning wickedly. "Boxers, Homey. For now, anyway."

He winked at her and she watched him swagger through the crowd, the plaid kilt swaying against his firm butt and muscular thighs with every step.

"He loves me," she muttered to herself, staring after him. Then she smacked herself in the forehead. "Oh, crap! Hell! What a disaster!"

Griffin suddenly reappeared with a half-melted lemon ice.

"I've got a big favor to ask you, Audie." He handed over the leaking waxed paper funnel. "Do you think you'd be all right hanging with the Quinns for the duration?"

He wagged his eyebrows to the left and gave his dread-locks a little shake, and Audie followed. Griffin 's big favor was standing a few feet away, looking beautiful and shy in a white gauze sundress and gleaming dark skin. Audie turned to find Pat, Michael, Sheila, and the kids all smiling at her.

"I think I'll be fine," she said.

When she pushed through the crowd to reach the Quinns, Sheila put her arm around Audie's shoulders and squeezed.

"You OK?" she shouted.

"Fine. Are you and the kids OK?"

"Fine." Sheila looked at Audie and sighed. "Testosterone poisoning," she said. "At least it keeps things interesting."

Quinn opened the back door and Audie pushed past him into the kitchen. She disappeared down the hallway, kicking off her shoes as she ran. He heard her feet move fast on the stairs.

"Where are you going?"

"To the bedroom!"

"I thought you wanted me to tell you about my pipes and kilt!"

"I do! Bring 'em up!"

A few moments later, Quinn found Audie lying on her stomach on his bed, her chin resting on her fists and her bare ankles crossed above her in the air. The little blue sundress was pulled tight across her round bottom, and she was smiling at him, apparently ready to be enlightened.

"Let's get to my lesson, Quinn." She cocked her head and he watched the dark waves of her hair brush against her bare shoulder.

"It will be a pleasure to properly introduce you to the second most beautiful lady in the world."

"Lady?"

"Her name is Philomena." Quinn clicked open the carrying case and pulled out the gangly apparatus. "Here she is. A Great Highland bagpipe made in Scotland in 1897. She was my grandfather Quinn's."

"Wait. It has a name?"

"Yes. My grandfather named her. In Greek, it's supposed to mean 'one who loves songs.'"

"Philomena." Audie mused over that while she watched him cradle the pipes in his arms like a child.

"You obviously take very good care of it, them-her."

"Sure I do." Quinn grinned at Audie, then bent down and kissed her softly. "I figure if I'm lucky enough to be in the company of someone this beautiful, it's my duty to take real good care of her."

Audie hummed in agreement, not missing the compliment. "So. What's an Irishman doing playing Scottish pipes?"

Quinn laughed. "That's a good question, Homey." He settled the pipes into the crook of his arm and began to give his lesson. "The lush version are called Uilleann pipes, and they have a softer, more melodic tone. These babies produce the great big roar a man needs for things like parading down State Street and going to war against the English. Some people call them Irish war pipes, but that's not really accurate."

Audie stared, realizing there was apparently a third subject that could turn Quiet Quinn into Chatty Cathy-bagpipes. So it was family, sex, and bagpipes.

"So tell me all about Philomena. I promise I'll try not to get jealous."

Quinn grinned at her again, and Audie felt her stomach flip.

"Well, let's start with her anatomy, shall we?"

She nodded.

"I hold her close to my left side with pressure from my forearm-there's no strap tying her to me. She's got three drones that come out of the top." Quinn pointed to three thin, tall pipes rising above his left shoulder, one much longer than the others.

"Now, one of the things that makes Philomena so special is all the silver-and-ivory inlay on the drones, see?" He brushed his finger along the bands of ornate detail work and smiled. "They don't make pipes like this anymore."

"How much is that worth?" Audie asked, her eyes wide.

"About three thousand, not that I'd ever sell her. She'll stay in the Quinn family."

"That's good." Audie couldn't help but smile at him, and she pictured in her mind how Quinn would teach their kids to play Philomena one day. Their kids-the ones who'd be playing on that swing set right out in the backyard.

She suddenly gasped. She had to stop thinking like this.

"You all right there, Homey?"

"Go on. I'm learning a lot," she managed.

"OK." His eyes sparkled down at her. "This is called the chanter." His fingers rippled along the pipe at the bottom of the instrument. "I cover or uncover the holes to play notes. All the while, the drones up here continue to produce the background hum you always hear in pipe music."

"You do both at the same time?"

"Yes. I use what's called circular breathing-I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth in a continuous cycle. That way, the pressure stays constant to support the drones and the melody line from the chanter."

"That sounds hard."

Quinn laughed. "It is. You usually have to study for years before you're allowed to play the chanter in a band. Da started teaching me when I was about twelve, so when I joined the force I stepped right into the Garda Band, full of myself and ready to go."

Audie lifted an eyebrow. "You? Full of yourself?"

"Yeah, well, I can't help it that I'm so damn good."

Audie laughed. "OK. So what's the bag made of? I thought it looked kind of different from the other bagpipes."

"Ah. The detective in you again, Homey," he said appreciatively. "It is different-most of the newer pipes have Kevlar bags, a plastic material. But I wanted to keep Philomena as historically accurate as possible, so I'm one of a handful of players that use an elk hide bag."

Quinn rubbed his fingers along the rough skin. "See how it's all bumpy here? It's inside out-the inside of the bag is the outer hide, elk hair and all."

"Eeewww, gross."

"Yeah, well, it helps make the sound rich and mellow, not buzzy like the new pipes. Want me to play a little something for you?"

"Please."

"How about 'Itchy Fingers'?"

Audie laughed. "Sounds good."

"I won't be able to talk, all right? I'm going to fill the bag with air and then give her a little slap to get the juices flowing."

Audie cocked her head and blinked. "What did you just say?"

"A slap gets the air moving through the drones. Now you can't be making me crazy while I play, or it won't sound right."

"I wouldn't think of it, Quinn."

The song was light and quick and Quinn was right-Philomena's sound was quite rich-and sitting this close, Audie could appreciate the amount of skill it took to produce the glorious tone.

She sat up on her haunches and clapped enthusiastically when the song ended, then gave Quinn one of her ballpark whistles.

"God, woman, you're going to make me deaf," he mumbled behind his smile, putting the pipes away and closing the case. Quinn stood in front of her, his hands on his hips.

"What next, Homey?"

"Ahhh." Audie flopped down on her side, propping her head with an elbow as she appraised him.

Quinn watched the sundress pull across the curves of her breasts, the slight swell of her stomach, and her round hips. He hoped whatever she wanted to know wouldn't take long to explain.

"The get-up, Stacey. All the doodads you're wearing."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I'll have you know that everything about the get-up, as you call it, is significant. So treat it with respect."

"Oh, I'm very respectful of it, believe me."

A little flash of heat moved through Quinn at the serious look in her eye. She did like the get-up, and it surprised him how happy that made him.

"Where should I start?"

She looked him over carefully and hummed, thinking. "Tell me about the little milkman hat and the story with the shoes."

Quinn laughed big and reached for the black two-edged cap sitting at a jaunty angle on his head. He held it out to her and ran his fingers along the black-and-white checkerboard pattern on the brim. "It's called a Glengarry and this is the black and white of the old Chicago Police Department."

He set the hat on Audie's head, giving her shiny hair a fluff and letting his fingers linger on her cheek a moment.

"You enjoying this, Homey?"

"Very much," she sighed, smiling up at him.

She watched him rake his fingers quickly through his sun-streaked short mane, the entirety of his hairstyling regimen, as she'd already learned.

"And these are spats worn over your standard-issue police shoes." He took off the spats and shoes and placed them under a straight-backed chair near the bureau.

"You look real good in those kneesocks, Quinn."

"They're not kneesocks-they're called hose. And these bright green garter things are called flashes-you fold the tops of the hose over the flashes just below your knee."

"So take them off."

He shot her a challenging look. "I feel like you're going to start sticking dollar bills in my shorts."

She laughed. "If you earn it, I will."

He took off the hose and flashes and folded them neatly on the chair. While he did that, Audie got to look at the defined muscles of his calves and his tapered ankles. He had excellent legs, this man in a skirt.

"Where to next, Homey?"

"The shirt," she said, grinning and rolling back to herstomach, propping her chin in her hands. Quinn watched theGlengarry slide off her hair and land on the disheveled comforter. The sight of Audie rolling around on his bed brought on that tightening in his chest again and in his groin.

His fingers went to the shirt buttons, taking detours to point out important features. "This is, of course, the standard-issue Chicago Police Department summer dress shirt, with the city flag on the right arm here"-he pointed-"and the Garda Pipe and Drum Band insignia on the left. And this little brass plate on the pocket is my name in Gaelic-Cuinn." His fingers pulled out the shirttails from the front and back of the kilt.

"So unbutton the rest of it."

He cocked his head to the side and saw how she watched his fingers pop open the last few buttons. He pulled off the shirt and gave it a series of little burlesque flips through the air before he laid it neatly over the back of the chair.

When Audie was done laughing, she continued her questions. "Does the undershirt have any significance, Quinn?"

"Yes it does, since you ask. Fruit Of The Loom, JC Penney, six for fifteen dollars."

Audie watched him do the one-handed macho T-shirt removal thing and toss it to the chair. And there he stood in front of her, wearing nothing but the kilt and a muscular chest, trim abdomen, and strong arms.

Audie knew she might very well be drooling, but she didn't care. His body was exquisite-powerful, sprung tight, ready for whatever might be required.

She liked that about him.

Quinn crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at her, trying his best to temper his sparkling eyes with a frown. "What now, Miss Adams?"

All she could do was look. She folded her legs beneath her and sat up again, hands on knees, just appreciating him. "Can you let your arms down to your sides?" she asked very softly.

The request surprised him. He couldn't imagine what she found so interesting but did as she asked, watching her watch him.

Audie was fascinated by the single thick vein that ran the length of the inside of each arm, branching off into smaller veins that wrapped around the forearm and wrist. His arms were a soft pink-peach, sprinkled with light freckles and covered with a dusting of hair. The same hair covered his chest and narrowed to a V shape between the ridges of his stomach muscles.

It came as a shock to realize she knew exactly what he felt like in all those places, how warm his skin was, how hard his muscle felt beneath her fingertips. She also knew how bracing he smelled and how smooth he tasted.

She sighed. So what if Quinn was full of himself? He was the most exquisite male specimen she'd ever seen, and beneath the hard-ass cop routine, he was the kindest man she'd ever known.

And he said he loved her, so he must be a very brave man as well.

Audie stared, breathing quietly, feeling the room grow thick with tension and desire. She'd tried to be honest with him. But was she honest with herself?

She told herself she didn't know how to love him-but she desperately wanted him, right now. Was it wrong to want his body? Was there anything wrong with taking what she wanted and giving him what he obviously wanted, too?

"The belt, Quinn," she said, her voice unexpectedly husky and low. She laughed at herself, embarrassed. "I mean, what's in your little pouch, good-lookin'?"

Quinn enjoyed the way her cheeks and chest flushed. "This is called a sporran, Homey, and its made of horsehair, and I keep real important stuff in here, so don't be smart."

His hands went down to the snap and opened it for her, revealing a wilted twenty-dollar bill. "Beer money."

"How about in the back?" Her eyes were expectant and bright.

Quinn twisted the black leather belt around to reveal a second, larger pouch and opened it. He took things out one at a time, held them up for her inspection, and placed them on the chair. "Car keys. Badge. Service weapon. Handcuffs." He unbuckled the belt and laid that on the chair as well.

She harrumphed a little and her brows drew up tight. "Do you always have to carry your gun, Quinn? All the time?"

"Except when I'm in the shower or asleep or naked with you, yes."

She inclined her head thoughtfully and saw him bring his hands to the button at the waist of his kilt.

"Stop right there, buster," Audie said sharply. "Don't move."

She scooted down and let her legs flop over the edge of the bed. Her nose was level with the button in question.

She leaned back on her hands and looked up into his eyes. "Tell me all about the kilt, Stacey." The corners of her mouth rose ever so slightly.

"What do you want to know about it?"

"Absolutely everything," she said, shaking her hair around her shoulders.

Thesight of this woman beneath him, her hair spilling out behind her, her breasts just screaming to be touched-that was all bad enough. But then he felt her left toe start to tickle the hair on his right shin, moving higher along the inside of his calf, then around to theback of his knee.

He noticed that to inflict this agony, she had to crook her knee out to the side, and the flared skirt of her dress fell away, revealing lots and lots of bare inner thigh.

"Jaysus, Audie."

"The kilt."

"Yeah. Uh, the colors of the plaid are, uh, Douglas blue for the Chicago Police Department, green for Ireland, and white for the City of Chicago. Do you like it?"

"Lovely," she whispered, removing her toe from his skin. "Could you come a little closer, Quinn?"

Heput his hands on his hips, and it was then that Audie noticed a definite change in the neat, straight pleat at the front of Quinn's kilt, as if it was hitched on something, something that was becoming more of a disturbance with each passing second.

She let her eyes travel up to his face and saw how his green eyes burned down at her.

"I'm not going to bite you," she said demurely. "At least not too hard. And I've had all my shots, like Michael."

He tooka step closer, and Audie let her fingertips graze along the backs of his knees. She was surprised when Quinn shuddered and started snickering.

"Don't tell me you're ticklish, Detective!" Her hands pushed higher beneath the light wool tartan, her palms resting flat against the long, solid muscles at the back of his thighs, the warm skin, and the fine covering of hair.

Quinn tried to breathe easy, but he was looking at her face, and that was not the place to be looking if he planned on relaxation. She was holding his gaze and bit down on her bottom lip with a question. Then the little pink tip of her tongue licked at the very same spot, and Quinn let out a soft groan.

Suddenly her hands swept higher and cupped nothing but bare muscle, and Quinn felt his skin burn beneath her touch.

"So it is true," she whispered, smiling up at him with delight.

"Only on special occasions."

"Such as…?"

"Such as whenever you plan on putting your hands on my ass-that's special enough."

She tilted her head back and roared, which he watched appreciatively. "So you knew I was going to do this, did you?"

"God, I was hoping. I ditched my drawers in the kitchen."

She laughed some more and then squeezed his hard butt with her hands. "And how about this, Detective? Did you hope I'd do this?"

She leaned forward and brought him closer, her hands clamped on his ass, and began nibbling at him through the plaid. First she scraped her teeth into the root of him, then helped herself to a hard mouthful.

"Jaysus." Quinn whispered, his head thrown back and his eyes closed. He spread his feet a little wider for balance and let his hands drop to his sides.

Audie moved her knees apart and snuggled him in tight, resting her bare legs against the outside of his calves. Her hands still gripped him, held him secure, while her mouth searched and kissed and bit at the big erection threatening to push through the flap of the kilt.

Audie grabbed the edge of the scratchy fabric with her teeth and moved it to the side, and the thick, satiny head of his penis burst through the curtain.

She was there to catch it, and he was inside her mouth, polished-smooths hard and hot, and she felt his fingers brush through her hair and grab on. His body moved instinctively to take advantage of what she offered.

Audie trailed her fingertips in lazy circles around his bottom and then reached up under his legs to cup his testicles. She felt his entire body shiver under the light touch. She pulled away.

"Wait, Quinn. I'm such a slow learner. I'm supposed to give it a little slap first, right? To get the juices going?"

"Whaaa…?"She did.

"Holy God, woman. You're going to kill me."

"And then I put my mouth on the reed and blow, right? Then play the chanter with my fingers?" She ran her tongue along the underside of his cock. "It might take some practice before I get the hang of circular breathing. I hope you don't mind."

Her wet lips parted and she welcomed him back inside. Quinn didn't know whether to laugh or cry and his head was pounding and the room was spinning and all he felt was Audie and it was as if all the power in the universe was concentrated right there in her hot little mouth.

"Audie?" he croaked out, his hands now reaching down to gently touch her face.

She raised her eyes but continued to give him a wealth of slippery, sucking kisses. She stopped when she saw a shadow of unhappiness in his face.

"What is it?" She sat up straight, thinking to herself that she'd done something wrong or she'd hurt him-but she didn't slap him that hard-or maybe he didn't like what was happening, though it certainly didn't appear that was the problem. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." He knelt down in front of her and placed his big hands around her hips. He leaned in to kiss her with decisiveness, letting his lips and the tip of his tongue trail along her lush mouth, so hot from the recent friction.

He whispered into her ear, "I'm not going to last if you keep doing that. It's too wonderful. I promise I'll make it up to you, though."

She sighed with immense pleasure and held his face in front of her, touching him softly around his eyes and at his temples. "Oh, Quinn," she breathed. "Did you enjoy playing for me today?"

"What?"

"Did you enjoy playing the pipes for me today?"

"Of course I did," he said, smiling sweetly. "I loved playing for you, seeing you enjoy yourself."

"Exactly." Audie kissed him tenderly, overwhelmed by a hot rush of feeling for him that she couldn't stop and didn't want to identify. "So just let me do the entertaining for a while, all right? Now stand up."

"I meant what I said. I love you, Audie."

Love! The word burned in her throat, behind her eyes, in her brain!

Quinn stayed on his knees and gazed at her long and deep. "I love being with you. You make me laugh-more than any woman I've ever known. You're good for my soul."

She shook her head almost imperceptibly and tried to smile, though her heart was splitting apart with fear and dread and panic.

"Quinn, I-"

"Don't." He stopped her abruptly, then softened his voice. "Maybe someday you'll tell me what I want to hear. But until then, don't say anything."

Audie blinked at him, not quite sure what she'd ever done in her whole entire life to deserve a man like Stacey Quinn, if only for a while.

"I told you I suck at love."

A very depraved smile spread across Quinn's face, and he ran a fingertip over her wet lips. "Then, lassie, for the time being let's just stick to the things you do extremely well."

Hestood up and stepped away from the bed, smiling as he popped open the waistband of the kilt. It fell to the floor in a heap around his ankles.

"Aren't you going to fold it and put it on the chair?" Audie asked.

"I'll get it in the morning."

It surprised her that she could laugh at a time like this, but she did. Only Quinn could make her laugh while her blood boiled and her heart broke apart.

She gazed at him-his body hard with desire, his eyes so intense they burned through her. She'd always remember him like this.

"Then get your naked butt back over here, Detective. I'm not done entertaining you."