Knock Me Off My Feet

Chapter 13

The news wasn't entirely unexpected, but Marjorie was still stunned. The words themselves felt heavy. They settled on her with a loud thud.

"The aneurysm is thirty percent larger than two months ago," the doctor had said. "The medication hasn't worked as we hoped and now surgery isn't even an option. I'm very sorry."

She'd sat motionless.

"It could be any time-days, weeks. But very soon. You'll need to get your affairs in order."

He had no idea.

Marjorie looked around her now and sighed. She briefly acknowledged the brown and wilted plants at the windows, the disorder, disarray, and dust of these once elegant rooms. She could resist the idea of tidying up tonight, as she'd resisted it for over a year now, though the sight of all this disrespect made her sick, sick, sick!

Audie had ruined this apartment-Helen's place, her place-the symbol of everything they'd worked for. And the anger rose in her so hard and so fast that it made her blind the way it sometimes did, like the night she became the person she now was.

Marjorie felt a headache coming.

There was no time to waste. Everything she did from this moment on must be streamlined, purposeful-and perfect.

She took one last look over her calm black lake and her sparkling city, then walked slowly to the guest room. She lay down upon the bed to wait out the pain now throbbing through her skull.

The bedclothes were neat, but she could smell that detective on the pillowcases. He had defiled her room, her bed, and such awful visions of him and Autumn came to her that she felt ill again! Absolutely sickened! That girl had no right to be happy-no right!

Oh, Helen! How had it come to this?

Marjorie turned her cheek into the soft cotton of the pillow and allowed herself to cry. It was impossible to forget the image-the eyes that burned with a smoky dark fire, the way her hair fell in rich dark waves around her face, that lovely face! And those lips… those lips that were at once the essence of joy and the vehicle for betrayal.

For forty-four years, those lips made the world disappear. Then they said things that made it all look so sordid, so wrong, such a mistake.

Of course Helen deserved to die. Just as Autumn did. In fact, sometimes she had difficulty reminding herself that they weren't one and the same-Autumn looked so much like her mother did so long ago.

Marjorie's head was spinning.

They'd been as one since freshman year. All they'd survived! The delicate juggling act that allowed them to explore their passion for each other while keeping Helen academically sound and socially desirable. Then the sham of a marriage to Robert Adams! It was necessary, of course-Robert's presence gave their arrangement legitimacy.

And all they'd accomplished-the combination of Helen's charm and her own brilliance and determination made them unstoppable! How dare Helen decide-after a lifetime together-that she wanted to be with someone else! And a man, no less! Banner CEO Malcolm Milton!

Marjorie stared up at the ceiling in the guest room and laughed out loud at her own stupidity. Being Helen's business partner had made her wealthier than she'd ever imagined. And from the beginning, Helen had assured her the column would be hers if anything happened to her. It was only fair, Helen always said.

So when the will specified leaving the column to Autumn first, then Drew, Marjorie was devastated. There she was, dying, finally demanding the recognition she'd always deserved-but all she got was more money. But she didn't want more money. She wanted glory! She wanted to be Homey Helen!

Marjorie heard the sound of her own desperate laughter echo through the guest room. How many times had she gone over this in her mind since then? The absurdity of leaving something so precious to those two idiots!

Autumn? For God's sake. Her life calling seemed to be teaching delinquents to kick a little ball into a big net. And Andrew? Dear God! He was a gutless, indolent twit who was slowly killing himself with alcohol.

Helen's progeny. The offspring of a cold-hearted, selfish bitch and a cuckold.

You'll need to get your affairs in order.

She brought a hand to her head. She wrenched her eyes against the throbbing.

Marjorie didn't like to think about what had happened fifteen months ago, but sometimes the images were so raw that they crashed through her brain like a freight train-unstoppable, loud, and painful. Like now.

She'd suggested they meet after work for a drink. No, things had not been good between them for a while, but Marjorie now had an explanation for the mood swings and her raging headaches and her screaming fits. Helen would understand. Helen would take her home to the Lakeside Pointe condo and hold her, comfort her, remind her of all they'd shared.

She knew that as long as Helen told her she loved her, she could face whatever came next.

An enlarged artery was pushing against her brain stem, she told Helen, and surgery might kill her.

Didn't Helen seehow much she needed her right then? Didn't Helen know that she held her heart in her hands?

Helen had looked her in the eye, patted her hand, and said how sorry she was. Then she proceeded to tell her that their relationship was over because she was in love with Malcolm Milton.

Marjorie's professional contribution was vital to the success of the column, Helen went on, so if Marjorie felt well enough, they could continue their working relationship.

"And I am sorry about the timing of all this," Helen added.

Marjorie's hands had turned to blocks of lead beneath Helen's touch, and for the very first time, she saw the ugliness in Helen's lovely face. That's when it started-the shift inside her. She felt her love break away, pull from the foundation like walls in an earthquake, only to be replaced by hate. Looking back, it was almost embarrassing how fast the transition occurred. And how complete it was.

The next night, Helen was dead.

You'll need to get your affairs in order.

Marjorie's head pounded. She groaned.

It had been shamefully easy to accomplish. She signed in at her obedience class, then slipped out the side door, as everyone did from time to time. When the dog has to go, he has to go, right? No one noticed that she didn't return.

She took Mark home and hailed a cab. She used a pay phone to call Helen's cell phone and relayed the news that Drew was in trouble and needed her-poor Helen was always blind when it came to him.

Helen picked her up on a North Side corner. As Marjorie explained how Drew had gotten himself in a jam in a bad neighborhood-drugs again, maybe?-Helen became so hysterical that Marjorie offered to drive. How perfect could it be?

Helen didn't suspect a thing until it was too late. The vagrant she'd hired to meet them took the first swing and Helen fell unconscious. Marjorie's turn came next. It felt satisfying. It felt final.

Early the next morning, Marjorie found the homeless man, thanked him for his efforts, and shot him. She took what remained of the money she'd paid him the night before, then threw the gun in a Dumpster across town.

Police never connected the deaths-and why would they? Helen Adams was rich and famous and her death was a front-page tragedy. The man disappeared as anonymously as he had lived.

Marjorie rose from the bed and walked to the guest bathroom. She washed her hands and tidied her hair in the mirror-and stared.

Well, she might as well have one last bit of fun. It wasn't as if she'd end up locked in a women's prison for thirty years! She knew how this sordid tale had to end-she had to put an end to the Adamses. Just like they'd done to her.

Drew was already taken care of-she'd seen to that long ago. And in just two days, she'd kill Autumn and put a bullet in her own brain in the ballroom of the Drake Hotel, in front of Malcolm Milton and everyone. Front-page news, most certainly. She'd get her glory after all.

The challenge would be in the details, she knew, in seeing how much damage she could inflict between now and then.

Marjorie chuckled at the reflection in the mirror, watching the crows'-feet deepen around her eyes. She really was an attractive woman for her age. It was a shame she'd been betrayed by her lover and by her own body at the same time. But the circumstances gave her a freedom she would not otherwise have, she supposed.

She sighed. Every once in a while she'd feel a flash of guilt for how she'd tormented Autumn since Helen died. Slashing her tires. Sending her black and shriveled roses. The letters. But then she'd notice the liquid brown depth of Autumn's eyes and the way her hair fell in messy waves against her shoulders and the guilt would disappear.

With every passing day, that clumsy, ungrateful girl came closer to ruining it all. With every day, Marjorie hated her more.

It was ironic that Autumn was in love for the first time in her life, just as her life was over. Her love for the detective was pitifully obvious, though Marjorie knew Autumn was unaware of the simple truth. All the Adamses were such emotional invalids.

She'd have her fun with Autumn through Stacey Quinn. She'd considered simply killing him outright, but there was always the chance she'd be caught and prevented from making her grand exit. No, instead she'd throw the detective a juicy bone and make things unpleasant for the happy couple.

And did she ever know just the bonehead for the job-Timothy Burke! Oh, she had to laugh. When Autumn told her about the lifelong animosity between Quinn and Burke, she could barely restrain herself. This was going to be so entertaining!

She'd never liked Burke, anyway. She'd truly enjoyed torturing him this past year, egging him on to keep trying with Audie, sending him little thank-you notes with her signature and personal invitations to her book signings.

Marjorie giggled. It was shameful how in America these days a slimy good-looking man always made it further than an average-looking man with morals, character, and brains. She preferred to see what she'd done to Tim Burke as an act of community service.

You'll need to get your affairs in order.

Tomorrow she'd pay the vice mayor a visit and set things in motion. She'd also need a gun, though she already knew how easy it was to acquire one in this town. Next she'd need to make arrangements at the kennel for darling Mark-the one thing she hated to leave behind.

Marjorie looked one last time in the mirror. It seemed strange that she appeared so calm on the surface when under the layers of skin and hair and muscle and bone there was a bomb waiting to go off, a rushing ball of pressure and chaos straining to be released.

Her life was over. At least with a bullet, she'd have control of when it happened. And control had always been important to her.

She needed to get out of the apartment before Autumn came home. The girl had gone to a baseball game with the detective and his family today and Marjorie had no idea if the happy couple planned to shack up here or at his place. Oh, young love!

Marjorie moistened several squares of toilet tissue with the rubbing alcohol she kept under the sink and wiped off the surfaces and stainless-steel fixtures until they gleamed. She flushed the tissue down the commode. As always, Autumn would never know she'd been here.

Marjorie left, relieved that her headache had lessened, comforted by the knowledge that at least one room in her apartment was exactly as it should be.

She'd die knowing at least one thing was perfect.

"You've been quiet since we left Comiskey. Was it the shock of seeing a baseball team actually win a game?"

"Shut up, Quinn."

As he chuckled, Audie snuggled closer. He'd taken her to her first White Sax game that day, and she'd spent many hours in the company of Jamie and Pat, Michael, and Sheila. She'd felt relaxed and happy and she'd laughed so hard that at times her stomach muscles complained.

They were back at Quinn's now, in his bed, and her heart was full and her body heavy with pleasure. They'd just made love-slow and tender and heartbreakingly intense. And Quinn was right. She'd been very quiet.

Because she was really starting to panic.

At the ballpark, she and Sheila had arranged a Christmas shopping excursion on Michigan Avenue. Audie had invited everyone for a sail before it got too cold. Jamie had asked Audie to consider helping at the Police Athletic League's indoor soccer clinic-in January. And she'd agreed.

Audie reminded herself many times during the day that she was in command of her heart, in command of her life.

But as they were leaving the park, Jamie hugged her tight and told her, "I'm glad my son found you. My only regret is that Trish didn't have a chance to welcome you."

Welcome you?

Oh, crap. Hell. She was in control of nothing, she realized. She had let the situation get completely out of hand.

Why was she making plans with these people? Why was she pretending that she'd still be around in the coming months when in her heart she knew it could never be? Why was she letting it drag on with Quinn when she knew the longer she waited the more it would hurt them both-hurt everyone?

She felt like such a fake. She felt like a liar.

She brushed her cheek against Quinn's bare chest, the stiff hairs there tickling her neck. She breathed him in-an elixir of summer sweat, soap, and a warm skin that seemed to dull her common sense as it heightened all her other senses, making her press even closer. At that moment, she couldn't seem to get him close enough.

Maybe just once more.

Audie felt Quinn's lips graze the top of her head and his big hands stroke her shoulders and arms. It astonished her that she'd come this far this fast with Quinn and that she was in his bed, wrapped up in his arms, and in his life.

How did she get so wrapped up in this man's life?

Audie tried to stay calm, but despite the deep thump of his heart beneath her cheek, despite the warm, sensual tingle that still spread through her body, she was far from calm.

She slammed her eyes shut and heard a desperate little groan escape from her lungs. She pulled him tighter.

The problem was, she'd allowed herself to need him. And the force of that need brought her the brightest joy and the darkest fear she'd ever known. Because she knew that when she failed with Quinn-like she'd done with every other person in her life-she'd be failing all of them. In her mind's eye,she saw Kiley's bright little face, and she knew she could never risk hurting her.

Let's face it-she didn't know how to love one man, let alone the man's entire family! She'd have to be insane to risk disappointing all those people! She didn't want the responsibility. She didn't want the grief or the guilt.

She didn't want any of it.

"I'll be right back. I need to go to the bathr-"

Quinn's arms closed around her, and she could feel the steel-hard muscles tighten around her back and waist. "Oh, no, you don't," he said.

She knew Quinn had probably spent the last few minutes listening to the wheels turn in her brain, feeling the tension in her body. He didn't miss much.

She tried to shake off the seriousness. "I'll be gone three seconds, Quinn. I think even you can wait that long to-"

"Talk to me, Audie."

Her whole body went still.

When he began to soften his embrace, Audie realized he'd been holding her together. As his arms relaxed, the knot of emotions broke apart inside her, her limbs felt weak, and her throat opened to a horrible sound she didn't recognize. Within seconds, she had her face buried in his chest and she was weeping.

"I've got you, lassie. Go ahead and cry." Quinn's whisper was rough but filled with gentleness, and Audie felt his fingers slide through her hair and brush her cheek. He felt solid and warm beneath her and she allowed herself to let it go, only vaguely aware of the loud honking noises she was making.

"I love you," he whispered in between her sobs. "I love you, sweet Audie."

"No! No! Don't love me! I-"

He pressed her head to his chest and began to sing. Audie's eyes flew wide with surprise and she gulped back her cry so she could hear him.

"When a man's in love he feels no cold

As I not long ago

As a hero bold to see my girl

I plowed through frost and snow

"And the moon she gently shed her light

Along my dreary way

Until at length I came to the spot

Where all my treasure lay."

His singing was simple, true, and sweet, filled with the same beautiful cadence as his speaking voice. She lay perfectly still as he continued.

"I knocked on my love's window,

saying 'My dear, are you within?'

And softly she undid the lock

So slyly I stepped in.

"Her hand was soft and her breath was sweet

And her tongue it did gently glide.

I stole a kiss-it was no miss

And I asked her to be my bride."

He paused then, and Audie waited, breathless, for the next line. It didn't come.

"Why did you stop?" she whispered.

He laughed softly. "It doesn't have a happy ending."

Audie raised up on her elbow and frowned down on him. Did he understand? Was he telling her that he understood she could never give him what he deserved?

"So what happens?" she asked.

"She punches him."

Audie studied him in the soft light from the hallway and he looked back at her warily. "I'm sorry there isn't a happy ending, Quinn."

When he tried to smile, his face revealed a combination of such masculine power and fine beauty that it made her ache. In such a short time she'd gone from seeing this man as a sexy but aggravating cop to what he was now-probably the closest she'd ever get to love.

"Why were you crying, Audie? Was it the damn photographs again?" Quinn's wan smile slowly faded. "I can cover the wall with a couple of bedsheets whenever you're over."

She shook her head.

"I know being with my family reminds you of what you didn't have. My heart breaks to think you were ever lonely."

His words stunned her. No one had ever spoken to her so plainly, with such intimacy and knowledge. She stared at him.

"It's not fair that your family didn't stand by you and love you. It's not right that you didn't have a bunch of people telling you you were great when you sucked, or telling you that you sucked when you were great… like families are supposed to."

She didn't move.

"Audie, you can have my family, they can be your family, too, if you want."

Her throat nearly locked up on her, but she knew she needed to regain control of this conversation. "Like a rental?" she managed.

"I'm serious."

She raised up a little more and scowled at him. Her pulse was racing. "So am I, Quinn. Please don't offer me that."

She started to move away, but he grabbed her by the shoulders and studied her-the plump cheeks and ripe lips, the clean line of her jaw, the delicate hollow at the base of her slim throat. He reached up to brush a few stray locks from her damp forehead and cupped his palm around her frightened, tear-stained face.

Quinn was aware that this would be the mother of all uncomfortable moments for Audie-but she'd live.

"What I'm saying is that you can borrow my family while you decide if you want one of your own-you know, a husband-and-kids sort of arrangement-someday. And if you ever decide you do, be sure to let me know. I'll help you look for them."

Her heart lodged in her mouth. Was all this some kind of backhanded proposal of marriage? These questions? The song? Oh, God, no. Either she was reading far too much into this or she'd waited too long. But it hadn't even been seven weeks!

She forced a casual smile and kissed his cheek, trying her best to hide the terror she felt. "I'll be sure to tell you, Quinn. In the meantime, I really do have to go to the bathroom."

She slipped out of his grasp and escaped the bed.

"Audie. Just one more thing."

She spun around.

"You said something to me on the boat about your parents that I can't get out of my head."

Audie let out an exasperated groan. "You're not going to interrogate me tonight, are you? I'm really not in the mood for-"

"You said your parents tolerated each other." As Quinn straightened and propped himself against the headboard, the sheet fell low on his abdomen. Audie's eyes flew from that tantalizing sight to his face, where she saw a flicker of pain. "Then you said, 'like any marriage.' But that's not true, Audie. That's not like every marriage is. It doesn't have to be."

Audie's breath was coming fast and shallow and her fingers gripped the doorframe. She felt her feet edging backward into the hallway.

"Da and my mother had much more than that, so I know what's possible. I saw it. I saw laughter. I saw-"

Quinn's face contorted in the shadows and the moisture sparkled in his eyelashes. Audie was frozen, reeling with the effort it took not to go to him. Why did she want to go to him? She should be getting out!

"I saw them touch each other a lot, even though that's not exactly normal with Irish couples-but it was a small house. All us boys knew what was going on. He loved her so much, right up to-" Quinn wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, then looked up at her, his expression determined.

"They had pride in what they'd created together-children, home, friends, memories, a place in the world where they'd come together to make a life. That's more than tolerating, Audie. That's love. I saw it every day as a kid, and I know it's not a load of shit or a fantasy. It's real. It can be real."

"I wouldn't know." Her heart felt as if it would burst in her chest. Her mouth was dry. Her hands were shaking.

"You've just got to have faith."

"I wouldn't know about that, either."

Quinn watched her standing there like a trapped animal, breathing fast. If she took off now, she wouldn't get far-she was wearing only a Garda Pipe and Drum Band T-shirt worn thin by a thousand washings. Her car keys were on the nightstand by his head. Realizing that now was as good a time as any, Quinn made his voice as soft and soothing as he could.

"Faith is believing in something when there's no possible way to guarantee it. Like believing that Kiley will get to live a full life. Like believing you and I are together for a reason. Faith is taking a chance, Audie."

"No, Quinn." She didn't recognize the sound of her own voice-it was gritty and strained with emotion. She stared at him all stretched out on his bed, gorgeous and honest and in love with her, and knew that time had run out. In that strange voice she said, "I'm so sorry. I wish things were different. I wish I were different."

Audie was trembling. She brought her arms tight around herself to stay steady. "I'm sorry," she said again.

It was painfully quiet for a moment. Then Quinn let his head fall back and he looked down his nose at her, his eyes half-shuttered and grim. "So, this is how you do it?" he asked. "You just say 'sorry' and walk out and either let the poor bastard chase after you awhile or watch him crawl into a hole and lick his wounds?" He rocked his head against the headboard. "Damn. I never thought I'd say this, but I think I actually feel sorry for Timmy Burke."

Her jaw fell. Her arms collapsed to her sides. "Excuse me?"

It was then that Quinn saw how her body was framed in the doorway, lit from behind by the hallway light, every delicious curve and swell of her nakedness in relief under the thin fabric, her breasts rising and falling with her agitated breathing.

Quinn realized he was getting hard as a railroad spike just looking at her, making this the only time he could recall getting a hard-on while getting the heave-ho.

"Did any of the others ask you to marry them?" he whispered. "Or was I the only one? Is it more difficult because I love you? Does that make things harder at all for you, Audie? I'm curious about that."

"What in hell are you talking about?" Even as she said it, she knew what was coming next. She'd walked right into it!

"The green and slimy problem, sweet thing." He leaned forward and Audie watched him dangle his beautiful arms over bent knees. "Nobody ever ran from you-did you think I wouldn't figure that out? I'm a cop, for God's sake!" He let go with a harsh laugh. "You were the one who ran, Homey. You ran from the green and slimy and hairy thing with eleven eyeballs that lives in your heart and makes you afraid of love-afraid of life. And your mother put it there."

Her feet were shuffling backward into the hallway. She was blind with the need to get out of Quinn's house.

But he sprang out of the bed, and Audie watched in horror as Quinn advanced on her, naked and mightily aroused, his green eyes locking on hers with a combination of fury and yearning. Her hand reached out behind her to make sure the escape route was clear.

"Do you think I'm letting you off the hook?" He flashed a brief but lascivious, grin before he frowned at her. "Do you think I'm the kind of man who falls in love just for the hell of it? Do you think I'd tell a woman I love her because I've got nothing better to do that day? Would it surprise you to know that I've never said that to another woman in my life? Not Laura? Not anybody?"

He stepped closer.

"How about if I told you that I'm convinced you're the right woman for me? That you're my shot at getting what my parents had?"

She took several additional steps backward, but he followed her.

"I'm talking to you, Miss Adams." He was so close, she could feel the heat pulsing off his naked body. "And I deserve an answer."

"I warned you, Quinn." She felt a single hot tear fall down her cheek and lodge at the corner of her mouth. This was so awful-worse than it had ever been! Worse than she could have imagined!

Audie closed her eyes and willed herself to go numb inside. All she needed was the presence of mind to get through the next few moments and she could put this behind her. She told herself it was just like soccer-you see the shot in your mind's eye;you kick; you score; you're done.

"I can't love you, Quinn. It's over."

He nodded. "So it was just for sex?"

She gasped. She gawked at him. How dare he say that? How dare he stand there all smug with his lips curled up like that? She abruptly closed her mouth and squared her shoulders. If that's the way he wanted to do this, fine.

"Yes. It was just for sex. I'll be leaving now."

Quinn leaned his head back and roared, and that was the last straw for Audie. She spun away from him and managed one step toward the stairs before she was knocked off her feet.

"What the hell are you-"

He picked her up, twisted her around in his arms, and brought his mouth down on hers, hard and hungry and hot. He held her against him with one big arm locked around her waist while the other hand cradled the back of her head. He walked forward until her back thudded against the wall.

She struggled to turn her face away, but he had her pinned. She was kicking violently-a futile effort now that he'd immobilized her with the press of his entire body.

The first picture that fell off the wall was the one of John in his Cub Scout uniform. Quinn watched with detached curiosity as it hit the floor near his right foot. The next picture down was of Michael and Sheila's wedding day, followed by a baby picture of Kiley and then Pat's ordination portrait.

The walls were shaking as Quinn shoved the T-shirt up around Audie's neck and she enthusiastically wrapped her legs around his hips so that he could push into her over and over, deeper and deeper.

"Was it just for sex?" he rasped between thrusts.

"No… no!" She could barely form the words. "I like you! I really do… but… I don't love you… I don't know how."

Quinn thought that was funny. And when he stopped laughing, he put his lips to her ear and spoke in time with each slide into her flesh. "All right, then. Leave me. Add me to your list of lover boys." He shoved into her harder. "Because I don't just want in your pants, Homey. I want in your heart. I want it all. I want everything."

He cupped her bottom with one of his big hands and let the other roam down to where their bodies joined. She was pulled so tight around him, stretched so thin.

He felt her shake and heard her whimper as he ran his finger along the hot velvet rim of her, then moved up to the top of her sex to let his finger spin loops around her clitoris. He knew exactly where she was desperate for his touch, but he merely circled, letting his fingertips slide everywhere but where she needed it most.

Her hips began to buck under him, and this time the big wedding portrait of the Quinn great-grandparents bit the dust, the old glass cracking on impact with the wood floor. He shuffled a bit to avoid the splinters.

"Oh! My! God!" Audie cried. Her mouth searched for him. He welcomed her tongue as it slid over his, tangled with his, begged for more. Then he forced her mouth wider and invaded her.

Everywhere.

His thumb flicked at her stiff little nub, then rubbed it without mercy. His penis hammered into her, big and rough. His mouth devoured her.

It gave him a great deal of satisfaction to feel her jerk so harshly, scream from deep in her chest the way she was, going on and on like she'd never stop. And when he grabbed on with both hands and exploded into her harder than he'd ever come in his entire goddamn life, the big Chicago cityscape fell off the wall and crashed to the floor in a shattering blast of glass.

A moment later, Quinn could barely remain upright, his knees were shaking so badly and his heart was so full. He didn't risk moving yet, because he'd have to be surefooted in all this glass. Quinn sighed-like most things pertaining to Autumn Adams, this last bit was going to take some very careful maneuvering.

Audie's head lolled on his shoulder and she was breathing fast, mumbling as if in a trance. He loved her so much. And he knew this was going to hurt him more than it would hurt her. But it had to be done.

He cautiously stepped back, separated their bodies with agonizing abruptness, and found a spot to set her feet on the floor. He yanked the T-shirt down over her trembling body' providing a bit of dignity. She was going to need it.

"Don't move," he said, turning back toward the bedroom.

He appeared an instant later, her clothes, purse, and car keys piled in his hands. "Here you go, Homey," he said, guiding her by the elbow to the stairs, watching to make sure she made it down safely.

"Lock the kitchen door on your way out, would you?"

Drew was on a roll. It was late, but he was almost done with the final chapter, and he couldn't remember the last time he had felt so electrified, so alive!

This had certainly been liberating-so much better than therapy ever was. Soon he would deliver the manuscript to his agent and she would send it to the publisher and his advance would be in the mail.

Thank God. Audie had been right-he had some serious cash-flow problems.

But the real joy would be walking into the Chestnut Street office tomorrow and hand-delivering a copy to that miserable little fiend. Then afterward maybe he and Audie could go out and get a cup of coffee. They needed to talk. He needed to prepare her for the fallout.

It probably wouldn't hurt to apologize for being the world's worst brother, either. Better late than never.

It was long past time he told Audie the truth-at least the part he knew of it. He was fourteen years old the day he had walked in on his mother and Marjorie and his life was ruined.

Marjorie had looked up from what she was doing-and what she was doing scared the living hell out of him-and glared until he silently closed the home office door. And from the age of fourteen on, that woman owned him. She set him up for a marijuana arrest that she hid from Helen in exchange for his silence. Then she seduced him-a fifteen-year-old kid who had no idea what was going on with his body or his brain-and told him he was sick and twisted. She screwed him up but good.

Well, fuck you, Marjorie Stoddard, you lying, manipulating, poodle-loving lesbian control freak! Andrew Adams has finally grown a spine, and it's going up the middle of four hundred pages of shocking, lewd, in-your-face truth about Homey Helen!

Hope you like it.

Man, did this ever suck.

Griffin was out on a date. Marjorie wasn't answering her phone. Stanny-O hadn't returned his page. Some uniformed cop Audie had never seen before was asleep on a straight-backed chair outside her door, the poor man.

Audie was so desperate for someone to talk to that she'd even briefly considered calling her brother-then she remembered there was a chance he was a psychopath.

It hardly mattered. Because contrary to all common sense, the one person she needed the most right then was the very same person who'd made her miserable in the first place! Stacey Quinn just threw her out of his house! Out of his life!

Audie paced up and down the hallway, absently batting the soccer ball between her feet.

What a jerk.

How could he have been so wildly, unbelievably, fabulously carnal with her and then just send her packing like that-like she didn't mean anything to him? Like he didn't love her? Like he'd never given her his grandmother's handkerchiefs?

How could he do that to her?

Audie stopped. She felt her heart plummet to the soles of her feet.

Well, duh! That's exactly what she'd wanted all along.

Wasn't it?

No promises she couldn't possibly keep. No pain. No words she didn't mean. No chance of failing.

She gulped down a mouthful of air, and despite the fact that she was nearly dehydrated from two hours of crying, she feared she could start up again at any moment.

This was ridiculous. He was testing her, of course, the cocky bastard. He wanted her to come running after him, like she had on the lakefront that day. He wanted her to beg for it, like she had the first night they'd made love.

He was giving her a taste of her own medicine. He wanted her to break down and say she loved him. Loved him!

He wanted it all!

Who did he think he was?

Audie smacked herself in the forehead.

Oh, God! Stacey Quinn was her man, that's who he was!

He knew her! He knew how her mind worked and what made her laugh. He knew exactly what scared her the most. He knew how to make her feel so damn good she screamed!

He loved her! He was patient with her. He told her his most painful secrets. He cooked for her and rubbed her feet and sang to her. He held her when she cried.

And the most amazing thing of all was that he'd asked her to marry him! He'd offered his family to her! Sure he asked for everything, but that's exactly what he offered her in return, wasn't it? A family, belonging-love?

Love.

Oh, crap.

Audie kicked the hell out of the soccer ball and it went whizzing across the apartment until it hit the built-in refrigerator and pinged around the kitchen, finally rolling to a stop in the middle of the Italian marble floor.

She stood in the hallway, blinking back the latest rush of tears, and wrestled with the monster-sized ball of stubbornness and terror that stuck in her throat. She wondered how she'd get through the rest of the night without hearing Quinn's laugh, seeing his smile, and feeling his caress.

Let alone the rest of her life.