Knock Me Off My Feet

Chapter 3

August 27

Dear Homey Helen:

Have you ever noticed how some stains just never come out, no matter how hard you scrub? I think you owe your readers the truth. I think you should tell them that not everything can be made nice and tidy, that some things never come out right-in the wash or in life.

Perhaps I'm just bitter.

Fondly,

Your most loyal fan.

PS: I so enjoyed your tip on how to remove furniture indentations from deep pile carpet.

"At home? This came to your home address?" Quinn's frown lines deepened as he went from Audie's face to Stanny-O's.

"It was in my mailbox last night."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I… uh, you were off duty."

"You've got my card. You call me anytime, all right?" Quinn made sure she saw that he meant it.

She nodded.

"I don't get it." Stanny-O rose from his desk and held an open box of candy under Audie's nose. "The guy threatens to drop you in the Bass-O-Matic with the last letter, then gets all philosophical about it in this one. Care for a mint?"

"Wow! Yes!" She grabbed a Frango Mint and tossed it in her mouth, feeling the chocolate melt on the back of her tongue.

"Another?"

"Sure! Thanks, Stanny-O." She smiled at him until she saw the surprise in his small blue eyes. "I'm sorry, Detective. I heard Quinn call you that."

"Ah, no problem, Audie." He grinned at her. "One more?"

She nodded happily and snapped another mint from the box. Stanny-O seemed quite pleased with himself.

"Hey, Willy Wonka, any report from the state police lab yet?" Quinn asked.

"Yeah. All of them are off a midline ink-jet printer, nothing fancy, nothing high-powered. Like from a home office kind of setup, one of the major brands. Nothing unusual that would make it traceable."

Quinn nodded. "And where are we on fingerprints?"

Stanny-O looked down at a page of handwritten notes. "Griffin Nash, Marjorie Stoddard, Audie here, we got Tim Burke's on file, along with Will Dalton, Kyle Singer, and Darren Billings, who apparently ran with a bad crowd as a juvenile. And we had Mr. Russell Ketchum come in. He didn't like getting his hands dirty, by the way."

"Little late for that," Audie mumbled to herself.

Quinn heard her and raised his eyebrows in amusement. "We had a nice long visit with Mr. Ketchum last evening," he said.

"You going to arrest him?" Audie looked hopeful.

"Nah," Stanny-O said. "Being an asshole lawyer isn't a chargeable offense last time I looked. Besides, we can't seem to come up with a reason he'd do this. I mean, what would Russell Ketchum have to gain if you got scared and quit the family business?"

Audie looked at both the detectives. "Nothing. He'd actually lose quite a bit, personally and for the law firm. Homey Helen has always been one of their biggest cash cows."

"Exactly," Stanny-O said. "So, we'll put him on the back burner."

"Thanks for bringing this in," Quinn said, placing the latest note inside a manila envelope. He rose off his desktop and cupped her elbow. "I'll walk you to your car, OK?"

"Sure-" Quinn was already hustling her across the room, his palm now flat against the small of her back. "Bye, Stanny-O."

"See ya," he replied.

Quinn spotted her Carrera 911 in the parking lot without much trouble, and they walked together toward the car. He put his hand on her upper arm as she opened the driver's side door.

"What are your plans today?" Quinn asked.

Audie shrugged a little. "Stuff at the office. I thought I'd go for a run this afternoon after lunch. Then I've got a book signing and talk at the Newberry Library tonight."

"Where do you run?"

She pursed her lips. " Lincoln Park. Why?"

"Today you've got a partner."

"Quinn, I don't think-"

He very softly brushed his knuckles across her cheek, and the jolt of his touch made her eyes fly wide.

"He knows where you live, Audie, and my commander doesn't want another Homey Helen getting hurt on our watch-bad for the city's image and all. End of discussion."

He dropped his hand, but the whole side of Audie's face tingled. She looked into green eyes filled with determination-and concern-and she sighed.

"Am I right in assuming that if I tell you to go to hell you'll just follow me anyway?"

Quinn smiled and nodded.

"Meet me at three o'clock at the main entrance to Lakeside Pointe, then. I usually do a loop up to Montrose Harbor and back, sometimes wander through Lincoln Park Zoo, about ten miles or so. Can you handle that?"

"I can handle it." He let his fingers barely graze the top of her hand and whispered, "See you then."

He was precisely on time, appearing from behind a massive black marble pillar, already grinning.

"Do you need to stretch?" she asked him.

Quinn tried not to look at her below the neck, and God, it wasn't easy.

"Already did. You?"

"I'm ready. Let me know if you can't keep up." She shot him a smile.

They took off side by side down the paved pathway, through the green ribbon of public parkland along Lake Michigan. This afternoon, the water shimmered in the sunlight and absorbed the blue of a cloudless sky. It was hot but less oppressive than the last few days had been.

Once they'd hit a comfortable pace together, Quinn decided he'd risk looking at her. She wore a pair of high-cut running shorts and a torso-length black sports bra. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She had nice wide shoulders. And her legs were muscular and trim-the legs of an athlete.

"I like running with you better than running after you," he said.

"Yeah, but I bet it's harder to look at my butt this way." She kept her eyes in front.

"Maybe you should be a detective," Quinn mumbled.

The lakefront was crowded that day, and a steady parade of cyclists, joggers, skaters, and walkers streamed by.

"Do you play any sports, Quinn?"

"Hoops now and then. Pickup hockey. A little soccer with the guys in the neighborhood."

"Where do you live?

"Well." Quinn fell behind her for a moment to let a group run by, then returned to her side. "I live on the North Side now, but I meant the neighborhood where I grew up."

"And where's that?" She glanced over at him. He wasn't even breaking a sweat.

" Beverly. You've probably never even heard of it."

"Sure I have. The stronghold of the Irish South Side. Nineteenth Ward. Alderman Paul Ryan."

Quinn looked at her in shock before it dawned on him. "Oh, yeah, Timmy Burke. How could I have forgotten?"

She grinned at him. "He talked about it sometimes. So how long have you two known each other?"

"Too long. We grew up about a block apart and went to school together, from kindergarten all the way through Brother Rice."

Quinn dropped back again to avoid a bicyclist.

"Having trouble keeping up, Detective?" She increased her pace a bit.

"I'll let you know, Homey."

Audie's head whipped around and she laughed outright. "Homey? That's funny, Stacey."

"Point taken," he said. Suddenly Quinn darted around a dog walker and took off a bit faster. Audie pulled up alongside.

"Are we racing, Quinn?"

"Nope. Just out for a nice jog."

Quinn tugged at the neck of his Police Athletic League T-shirt and jerked it forward over his head with one hand. The gesture struck Audie as an overtly macho thing to do, and as he tucked the shirt inside the back of his running shorts she tried not to look at him below the neck. God, it was hard.

"Don't you worry about skin cancer?" Audie asked. "You're very fair."

"All the time. I wear SPF thirty."

She cast him a sideways glance. He was a soft peach color and covered with pale freckles and light brown body hair. He was lean and hard and she could see the ripple of muscle through his back and shoulders. His upper arms looked powerful. "So how Irish are you, Quinn? Your grandparents or something?"

He laughed and caught her eye. "Them, too. But Da and my mother were both born there. They came over in the sixties. I'm first-generation."

"Oh, I see."

"Do you now?"

Audie chuckled. "No, not really. I don't know much about Ireland. I suppose you're Catholic?"

"I suppose I am. You got something against Papists?"

She blew out air. "No. Are you trying me make me hit you again or something?"

He laughed. "Just making conversation. How about you? My guess would be Presbyterian."

Her mouth fell open and she glared at him. "Why do you say that?" Was it her imagination, or had he just kicked up the pace?

"Well, there's growing up rich in Winnetka. The name Adams. The general upscale North Shore WASP thing you have going on."

"Upscale North Shore WASP thing?" She huffed. "That's pretty insulting, Stacey. If you must know, I'm nothing, really, but my parents were married in the Presbyterian Church. Don't tell me you're prejudiced against Presbyterians?"

This time it wasn't her imagination-he'd just sped up again.

"I've got nothing against Presbyterians in particular, just Protestants in general."

She narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head. "You're mocking me."

It was a marvel to her how slowly his grin spread and how much smug sexuality was conveyed in the gradual curl of his lips. "I'm just playing with you, Homey. It seems you've got a fine sense of humor for a Protestant girl."

She rolled her eyes and made a break for it, turning on the heat now. She began to weave and pivot through the crowd of people, skateboards, scooters, bikes, and dogs, leaving Quinn in the dust. It served the cocky bastard right.

Then he ran right by her.

As she chased him, Audie knew she was being childish. She knew he was teasing her, testing her. She realized she should just turn around and have a nice, peaceful, quiet run home. She didn't need this aggravation.

But instead, she focused on the white T-shirt bobbing along his compact, muscular butt and the really nice set of his shoulders and poured it on.

Just as she reached him, he slowed considerably, and Audie had to twist sideways to avoid slamming into him.

"You're very graceful, Homey. And fast. You play a mean forward, too."

Again he surprised her. A compliment-several of them in a row, in fact.

"Thanks. You're pretty fast yourself." Audie was sweating up a storm now and she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

"Here." Quinn tossed the shirt to her and she mopped her face with it. The clean, bracing scent of him nearly made her topple over. She slowed almost to a walk and raised the shirt to her face once more before she tossed it back to him.

"I'd like to talk to your brother sometime soon," Quinn said.

Audie stopped dead. "Drew? Why? You think he's writing the notes?" She placed her hands on her knees and leaned forward, catching her breath. "That's ridiculous."

Quinn grabbed her arm suddenly, pulling her off the pathway before she was flattened by a kid on Rollerblades.

They stood in the grass staring at each other, breathing fast. They'd been sprinting for quite a distance.

"Not necessarily, but I need to check it out."

She nodded, swallowing hard, staring at the muscles in Quinn's chest and his little pale pink nipples. "Drew wouldn't do something like that," she breathed, letting her eyes travel down Quinn's rippled abdomen and then out over the lake, anywhere but at that body! "Anyway, there have been, what, eighteen letters now?" She let out a laugh. "Andrew Adams is incapable of that kind of scheme, Quinn. It would mean coming up with a plan and sticking to it-you know, commitment. Not his strong point."

Quinn took her hand and they walked together across the grass, toward the water, and Audie stared at his striking profile. This man left her bewildered. In a span of thirty minutes, Stacey Quinn had insulted her, aggravated her, mocked her, complimented her, made her laugh, and saved her from harm.

And now he cradled her hand with such tenderness that she couldn't bring herself to pull away. In fact, she found herself moving closer to his side.

What was he doing to her?

Quinn faced her then, the sun behind him turning him into gold, and he smiled. "You really are extraordinarily beautiful, Audie-for a Cubs fan."

"Ha!" She stood in front of him, smiling back. "And you're the most aggravating man I've ever met in my life."

He thought about that for a moment, exploring her face with his eyes. "Would you believe me if I said I don't mean to aggravate you?"

"Hell, no."

Quinn leaned his head back and roared, and the gesture reminded her of the family photo she had seen on his desk.

She wondered what it was like to grow up in a family like his, where people laughed and smiled and threw their arms carelessly around one another, sure that they were loved.

As if he read her mind, Quinn draped an arm loosely over her shoulder. "My brothers would love you. What do you say we go see the lions, Homey?"

She was running late. They shouldn't have stopped for ice-cream cones near Lincoln Park Zoo. They shouldn't have sat under the tree and talked as long as they did. Now it was after six o'clock, and she still had to get showered and change into the Homey Helen uniform and get to the library in less than an hour.

"Can you wait while I get my clothes out of the car?"

Audie cocked her head at him, confused. "What? Your car-?"

"It's in a visitor space in the garage. I'll get a shower at your place and go with you to the book signing."

She closed her eyes to gather her patience.

"Three minutes," he said, already running off to the garage elevator, leaving Audie standing at the building's lakefront entrance, a bit confused.

She turned and stared at the water, dotted with after-work sailboats, and suddenly longed to be out on the family's forty-three-foot cutter. Alone in the wind. Alone where there were no threatening letters, no contracts, no book signings, no South Side Irish detectives who made her crazy.

He was so easy to talk to. She'd told him more in the last few hours than she'd shared with Griffin in the last ten years-and it scared her. She was a private person. She knew she could talk a lightning streak, but it was usually surface things. She didn't open up very easily. Yet she had with him.

"So what's the story on the column, Audie? How did you get where you are?"

He'd asked her that as they lolled in the shade just outside the zoo, licking their ice-cream cones. Seeing him apply his tongue and lips to the creamy white concoction had caused her insides to flip, and all she could think about was that wild kiss on the sidewalk. She'd probably think about that kiss for the rest of her life.

"You know how my mom died?" Audie had asked him.

He nodded, holding her gaze. "I certainly do. I know the guys that handled her homicide."

"Oh, of course," she said sadly. "Well, we'd never talked about the column, because I guess everyone just assumed Helen Adams would live forever. She was only sixty-two, still very energetic and busy-and fabulous, of course." Audie smiled a little.

"And then Marjorie called me that night to tell me she'd been mugged and beaten. So I get to see her on her way to surgery and she looks like she's dead already-she didn't even look like my mother. Her hair was all sticking up and her skin was gray and… " Audie closed her eyes for a moment.

"She made me promise I'd do it. She made me swear to her that I'd take over the column. We'd never even discussed it before, but, well, I agreed because I thought she'd get better and it wouldn't be an issue."

Audie looked up at Quinn and blinked. "Then she died. And poof-I'm Homey Helen."

Quinn was crunching on the sugar cone now, still watching her carefully. A thin trickle of ice cream slipped from the point of the cone and ran down his wrist. Audie watched him scoop it up with the tip of his tongue, and little black spots began to dance in her vision.

"Why would she ask you to do that? Didn't she know-?"

"That I'm a spaz?"

He frowned at her. "That the column wasn't something you were particularly interested in."

Audie chuckled and finished up her own ice cream before it liquefied in the heat. "What I wanted wasn't part of the equation. Never really was," she said, munching her cone.

Before she realized what was happening, Quinn leaned forward and licked softly at her forearm, removing a wayward pearl of melting ice cream from the fine hairs there. Audie gasped.

"So what happened with the estate?" he asked nonchalantly, as if his warm tongue hadn't just raked over her skin.

Audie blinked, trying to recover her composure. "Uh, I got the apartment, the syndication contract, the office… " He was licking his lips and smiling at her, which was completely unfair. "… the Porsche, and half of everything my mother and father had accumulated. Drew got the house on Sheridan Road, the summer house in Door County, the sailboat… " Quinn gently sucked on each of his fingers, never taking his eyes off hers. "… and the rest of the cash." She let out a breath when she finished.

"So how much has your brother managed to lose in the last year?"

Audie snorted. "A lot of it. I don't know how bad it is, really, but if you think he wants to do the column, you're way off base."

"OK. Why's that?"

It was her turn to grin. "I think that will become obvious when you go talk to him."

"Fair enough."

Audie lay back in the grass and Quinn propped himself up on his elbow to gaze down at her.

"How long do you plan on keeping this up? How much longer can you do this?"

His words were hushed now, and the rough, musical quality came back to his voice. She liked that sound very much, and her eyes automatically followed it, entranced.

"I'm not sure," she said. In the afternoon light, she could see the fine lines around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. Those remarkable olive-and-gold eyes looked right through her. "I'm supposed to be signing a new contract within the month."

"And?"

"We really need to be heading back."

Quinn returned from the parking garage and came up behind her. She spun around to see that he had a garment bag slung over his shoulder and that he stood very close.

"I got two bathrooms," she said, a hint of challenge in her voice. "And forty-five minutes."

It was ten till seven, and Quinn waited patiently in Audie's living room, looking out the massive glass wall to the blue expanse of lake, the long stretch of city, and the Ferris wheel at Navy Pier. It was so clear this evening that he could see the Indiana Dunes and the pale silhouette of the Michigan shoreline.

Quinn had been ready for a while now, but he could still hear Audie cussing and bumping into things at the other end of the huge apartment.

"Oh, crap! Hell!"

He smiled to himself again. So this was Homey Helen's abode. He wondered if the original Helen was flopping around in her grave like a mackerel.

It wasn't filthy. In fact, the guest bathroom was spotless, probably because it was never used. But the rest of the apartment was in a state of utter disarray.

Newspapers, magazines, books, and sweat socks were scattered on tables. A half-filled microwave popcorn bag had toppled over on the expensive Italian couch, leaving oily streaks on the leather. He'd seen how three soccer balls had rolled to a stop in odd places, like in front of the stove. He couldn't imagine the ball was in the way since the kitchen obviously wasn't used for much-there was nothing in the refrigerator but bottled water, a jar of jalapeño peppers, and what appeared to be some kind of shriveled moss-covered ball that may have once been a citrus fruit.

A thick layer of dust had accumulated on the screen of her high-definition television set. He knew this because he'd run his finger across it.

"Quinn!"

"Yep."

"Are you ready?"

"Yep. Have been."

"Do me a favor-do you see a pair of bone pumps out there somewhere?"

Bone pumps were either medical devices or women's shoes, Quinn thought. "You mean shoes?"

"Yes, shoes! Look in the dining room and toss them back here when you find them, would you please?"

Quinn headed into the formal dining area, another room strewn with newspapers and odd bits of debris. He saw the shoes sticking out from beneath a sleek modern sideboard-blond maple, he thought. As he looped his fingers inside the shoes and stood up, he saw a few family photos on display. Like everything else, they were sprinkled with dust.

He took a second to examine them-and his eyes fell on one group shot in particular. There was Audie-fourteen maybe-gangly and wearing braces and suffering from a fatal case of Big Hair, standing as if someone were holding a gun to her head. Quinn laughed at the angry look in her eyes until he saw that her brother possessed the same expression. They must have been fighting.

Audie's father looked absolutely lost, standing off to the side a bit, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his suit trousers.

In the center was Helen, beaming into the camera like she had with Margaret Thatcher and Nancy Reagan, her hand resting on Audie's shoulder. It didn't seem to be out of affection as much as control.

And who was that? A younger, quite beautiful version of Marjorie Stoddard, standing with a protective hand on Drew's arm, holding the leash to a regal-looking standard poodle with a pompadour and a pompom tail.

Dear God. Out of the lot of them, Quinn decided the poodle looked the happiest.

"Did you find them?"

He straightened up at the faint sound of her shout and headed toward the other end of the apartment. A man could get a blister on his heel walking from one end of this place to the other.

"Whoa!" Quinn pulled back as Audie ran into the hallway outside her bedroom.

"Sorry. Thanks."

Quinn watched her balance one hand on the door frame, bend at the waist, and skip her feet into the shoes one at a time.

She looked elegant, refined, and professional. She'd chosen a simple pale pink sheath dress and wore pearls at her throat and ears. Her hair was twisted back in some complicated shape that left those little tendrils loose at the nape of her neck again. She smelled faintly of flowers and spice.

"You're lovely, Audie."

She straightened up, and her breath caught. "God, you clean up good, Stacey. You look downright… I don't know… Protestant!"

As Quinn laughed, she checked out his lightweight gray suit, simply cut, nicely fitted, and the starched white collar and a tie of watery blues and grays. The man was dazzling.

"I'm late. Let's go," she said.

Quinn couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed being in a library this much. It was a decent crowd, mostly after-work types and a few older retirees. He scanned the faces, looking for anything that might catch his eye-a little too much adoration or anger or resentment, anything that didn't fit.

"Perhaps I'm just bitter."

He couldn't get that sentence out of his head. There was something intimate in those words. He looked around the room again-was there bitterness in anyone's face here tonight? He didn't see it. These people were polite, excited, starstruck, and, at worst, a bit impatient that they had to wait in line for Audie's autograph.

But whoever was sending her those notes wasn't here tonight. Quinn was sure of it.

He moved around the large hall, watching her from every possible angle. He'd listened earlier as she stood at the podium to chat about the column and answer questions. He laughed to himself when he realized that most of her answers involved the use of club soda, baking soda, or white vinegar.

She was good, Quinn had to admit. She smiled pleasantly as she rattled off facts and tricks. She looked perfectly in control. She looked as if she enjoyed herself.

It was only when Audie stepped down from the podium that the spell had been broken. She tripped on a microphone cord and nearly fell on her face before the library director grabbed her arm.

About an hour had passed since then, and Audie sat at a long wooden table, her legs crossed daintily at the ankles, writing and smiling and nodding. At one point she raised her head, blinked, and looked around the room until she found him.

Quinn watched something pass over her face-relief, maybe. Whatever it was, it was just for him, and it made him smile.

The smile abruptly faded. Quinn felt the hard, cold stare of unfriendly eyes on him and turned in time to see a man disappear around the double doors of the hall. After a quick look Audie's way, Quinn followed.

He found nothing. No one. But he wasn't about to leave Audie alone to go chase after the guy. Besides, he had an appointment with him in a few days.

An appointment with Vice Mayor Tim Burke.

"I've got to eat something." Audie leaned back in the car seat, closed her eyes, and sighed. She flipped off her shoes. "I thought I'd never get out of there!"

Quinn was driving the Porsche north on La Salle Street. "I'll take you somewhere."

"I'm too tired to go anywhere."

"Then I'll take you nowhere."

"Perfect."

They drove in silence for most of the way as Quinn headed west on Division and north on Clybourn. He pulled into an alley off of Southport. In the dark, Audie had no idea where they were-until they whipped into a small parking space adjacent to someone's neatly landscaped backyard.

She turned to him, too tired and hungry to put up much of a fight. "Is the food here any good?"

"Always."

The first thing she noticed was how clean his floors were-shiny, flawless oak strips that ran the narrow length of the house, not a scatter rug to be seen in the whole place.

The next thing she noticed was that Quinn's house immediately put her at ease. There were big, overstuffed chairs, a soft-looking couch, photographs on the walls, and a nice old fireplace. She saw lots of green thriving plants near the windows and the bookcases filled with rows of books arranged by height.

"Make yourself at home," Quinn said, hanging his suit jacket in the hall closet. "Wine?"

She nodded. "Bathroom?"

He pointed up the set of stairs. "Down the hall and to the left."

When she finished in the bathroom, she ripped off her panty hose and balled them up in her hand. Wearing panty hose in the summer in Chicago was masochistic, and she sighed with relief to feel the air on her legs.

Audie caught the smell of onions and hot butter and headed toward the stairs, as if pulled by the rich and pungent scent.

But suddenly she stopped, blinked, and stared at the wall of framed photographs beside her-portraits, candids, baby pictures, weddings, communions, landscapes, cityscapes, graduations-all along the upstairs hallway from the chair rail nearly to the ceiling. The faces! So many faces!

The pictures made her smile. Quinn and two other boys in hockey uniforms, one boy missing a front tooth. Scruffy-looking mutts. Fishing trips. First cars.

Her eye moved to one picture, a wedding portrait from what looked like the early 1900s. The man stood stiffly in a suit that didn't quite fit, one large hand clutching a cap against his leg and a sweet, shy smile plastered across his broad face.

His other hand rested hesitantly on the tufted parlor chair that held his bride. Her thick, dark hair was piled loosely on top of her head. Her light eyes danced in the camera flash. The bodice of her gown fit snugly against her tidy figure.

Quinn's great-grandparents, maybe? Audie gazed in wonder at all the people that seemed to radiate from this single old wedding portrait, their placement telling the story of a family.

Audie realized with a start that she was weeping, that a steady flow of silent tears now ran down her face. She swiped at them with the balled-up panty hose and scolded herself for the ridiculous outburst. It had been a long day.

With a deep breath she turned to go, but her heart was having none of it. She looked back and stared. There was joy on that wall. There was life and death and a reason for everything in between. She felt the jealousy stick in her chest like a knife, sending the pain of longing through her.

Damn it, how did her heart become such an empty, awful place? It wasn't right that she felt so disconnected when other people had so much… what was all this she was looking at? Belonging? Family? Love?

She'd always known she was different somehow, but standing here in front of these faces made the truth so obvious it was laughable.

Audie was alone. She always had been.

The tears came in earnest, and she bent her face to the panty hose and let her shoulders shake.

She caught a slight movement out of the corner of her eye and saw Quinn at the bottom of the stairs, watching her, his face pulled tight with concern.

She shook her head and started down the steps, waving her hand dismissively. "I'm fine. I'm sorry for crying."

He pulled out a crisp white handkerchief from his pants pocket and waited for her to reach him. With great gentleness, he dabbed at her tears and then handed her the folded cloth. Quinn placed a hand at the small of her back and bent his lips to her ear.

"I know we're not the prettiest bunch on earth," he whispered musically, "but I believe you're the first that's been driven to tears at the sight of us."

She laughed a bit and leaned against him, feeling his arm come around her. Quinn had removed his tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves, and his bare forearm rested warm against her exposed skin.

"Let's eat, OK, Homey?"

She nodded, still wiping at the tears, as he led her into the kitchen.

It was perhaps the most delicious omelet she'd ever eaten-light but rich with cream cheese, onions, green peppers, and mushrooms. He'd made rye toast, too, and orange juice. The meal raised her blood sugar, and her mood, dramatically.

When they were done, Quinn sat back and watched Audie pad around his kitchen in her bare feet, happily scrubbing pans and wiping the countertops, chattering all the while. Apparently, she did know how to clean a kitchen when the need arose, and the fact lightened his heart.

He enjoyed seeing her turn and spin and pivot on those smooth, uncovered legs. He smiled appreciatively when she bent over to fill the dishwasher. When she stood up, he could see the slight swell of her belly against the snug dress, and he wanted to run his hands across her there. He noticed the bone and muscle move in her ankles and soft-looking feet, and he wanted to put his hands on her there, too.

She turned to him suddenly, holding a small box in her hand. Her dark eyes were huge. "Quinn?"

He winced, then shrugged in defeat. "I'm busted."

Audie let out a delighted laugh as she flipped through the categories. "'Auto,' 'Home Maintenance,' 'Household Organization,' 'Laundry,' 'Stains,' 'Thrifty Tips'…?" Her mouth fell open.

Quinn rose from his seat at the kitchen table and sauntered toward her. He gently took the box from her hands, closed the lid, and placed it back on the countertop. In doing so, he'd managed to reach across her body and pin her to the cabinets.

"It was my mother's." He pulled back just a bit, his eyes moving from her gaze to her fabulously full lips. "She was your biggest fan."

"You mean my mother's biggest fan, don't you?" Audie struggled to raise her wineglass in the narrow space between them and took a sip.

"I've always liked the column, too."

Audie grinned, then politely pushed past him into the middle of the room. She looked around his house again-charming, organized, clean, and comfortable. Her eyes fell to the gleaming floors.

"Damp mopped with two tea bags per quart of water, Quinn?"

He nodded.

"Wow."

"Yeah, my brothers think I'm a freak."

"Well, you are!" She laughed at him, suddenly spinning around to examine the spice rack over the stove. "Aha! Alphabetized! I knew it!"

He shrugged.

"The CDs, too?"

"Yes."

"Could I please look in your freezer?"

"Be my guest."

So what if she was giggling at the sight of his labeled and dated Tupperware containers and freezer bags? He got to stare at her sweet, round butt as she did so.

"Oh, my God!" Audie slammed the freezer door and spun around with her arms flung wide, the laughter pouring out of her. "You're me! I mean, the me I'm supposed to be! Hey, you wanna take over the column?"

"Nope." Quinn grabbed the bottle of wine off the table and gestured to the back door. "How about we sit on the deck?"

He put his palm against the small of her back and guided her to the door. She twirled away from him.

"You're always doing that, pushing me somewhere, steering me. Why do you do that?"

He dropped his hand and his eyes flashed at her. "I was being polite and escorting you to the goddamn deck."

She snorted and reached for the door before he could. "After you, Detective," Audie said. As he walked past, she placed her hand on the curve of his back and it was warm and hard-and Audie decided right then that she probably shouldn't have any more wine.

They made themselves comfortable in cushioned patio chairs at an oval cedar table. Audie looked out over a narrow manicured yard glowing under tastefully placed outdoor lights. The weed-free grass was cut short and looked like green velvet, and the entire space was set off with boxwoods and mulch along the fence line.

She sighed in appreciation.

"This is a very cute house, Quinn. How long have you lived here?"

"About five years now."

"Have you ever been married?"

"Nope. Unless you count Stanny-O."

Audie giggled and poured herself some more wine. One more glass wouldn't make her lose her head over Stacey Quinn, certainly. "Have you ever lived with anyone?"

"I'm living with someone now," he said casually. "Why do you ask?"

Audie put down the wine bottle rather forcefully and blinked at him. "Is she at Ace Hardware stocking up on mulch while you entertain me tonight?"

Quinn shook his head and sniggered. "Nope. Rocky Datillio is at his fiancée's tonight. He'll be moving out for good when he gets married in a few weeks."

"Oh."

"Can I ask you something, Audie?"

"Mmm… " She was taking a nice long draw from her wineglass.

"Why were you crying upstairs?"

She put down her drink and began to remove the bobby pins from her hair, then tossed them in a pile on the table. She raked her fingers through her waves and massaged her scalp, waiting for her emotions to subside.

"I get a little sentimental when I'm hungry and my feet hurt," she finally said.

"I give a mean foot massage." Quinn took a sip of his wine and looked out into the yard, listening to the neighborhood night noises of cars, barking dogs, garbage can lids, and voices. He waited a long while before he felt her feet plunk down in his lap.

Quinn touched her ankles with reverence before he pushed her feet aside. "Wait. Come here to me."

He pulled Audie by the hands and guided her to the edge of the table, where she hopped up, letting her feet dangle. Quinn positioned his chair in front of her and sat down.

"There. That's better." He placed her feet squarely in his lap.

Audie giggled until she grew accustomed to his touch, then let her eyelids drift down in heavy pleasure. In silence, Quinn rolled his fingers into the ball of one foot and pressed his thumb along her arch. Then he stroked the top of the foot, paying lavish attention to each toe-pulling, bending up, and pushing down-until little electric shocks of pleasure raced up from the thin bones of her feet.

Then he started the cycle of touch all over again, and soon Audie's breathing fell in sync with his movements and she felt her muscles uncoil from her soles to her shoulders.

When he went to the other foot, she giggled again but was soon returned to bliss with his rhythmic touch.

"This is wonderful, Quinn."

"Yes, it is."

Audie realized her eyes had been closed all this time, and she opened them to admire his efforts.

"Oh!" The little exclamation came out involuntarily. It seemed Quinn's lion-at-breakfast look was back, but this time she'd served herself to him on a plate. He held her gaze as his touch suddenly changed.

Audie felt the hot, firm pressure move to her ankles now, then to her calves. He stopped there and raked his knuckles hard down her muscle.

"Ahhh!" She nearly jumped off the table.

"You're very tight," Quinn said, still holding her eyes with his. She could've sworn he smiled at his choice of words, and she was once again impressed by the fact that Stacey Quinn was one damn fine-looking man.

Audie found herself scooting closer to the edge of the table to give him more of her legs, which clearly indicated she was out of her mind or wasted or both. He responded by taking long strokes from the soles of her feet to above her knees, still staring at her intently.

"Oh, wow," she whispered. The sensation was pure heat, and it tingled and pleased and hurt all at the same time. She found she couldn't breathe between strokes of his hands. "Oh, yes," was her next comment.

"How are those feet doing?"

"What feet?" she answered, smiling behind her closed eyes.

His hands were now fully inside her dress, pushing higher on her legs, leaving streaks of fire on her skin, moving higher still, and heading outward toward her hips. She groaned softly when his fingers brushed against the silk of her underwear and raced back down her legs, only to move back up, turning this time toward the painfully tender skin of her inner thighs…

Quinn's hands stopped. "Audie?"

"Yes?"

"What are we doing?"

"You're giving me a foot massage." She clenched her eyelids tight and didn't dare breathe.

"Not anymore I'm not."

Audie sat up, clamped her legs together, and felt sick with embarrassment. His hands slid away abruptly. "You're right. This is not a good idea. I've got to go home. Do you still have my keys?"

She was about to remove her feet from his lap and run like hell when Quinn jumped up, spread her legs apart, and stepped inside.

"I didn't say it was a bad idea." Quinn was leaning forward, his hands on the edge of the table by her hips, his breath hot on her neck. "I was making sure you knew what was happening, that's all."

"Thank you, Quinn, I… Oh, God, I appreciate that. I really do." Audie swallowed hard. "It would have been a mistake."

He smelled so good, so sharp and masculine. Every nerve ending in her body was screaming to touch him. His lips were so close to her neck, to her face. Her legs were opened to him.

"Just one kiss, Homey."

"One good-night kiss. Then I've got to go."

When Quinn pulled back enough to look her in the eye, Audie gasped. She was in for it now.

Technically, it was just one kiss. It started quite gently, a soft, careful touch of his lips against hers, moist and sweet and warm. Then came her tender response and her lips yielded to his, her hands lightly stroked the back of his neck, and she breathed his name into his mouth.

And it continued, as Quinn dared to ask for a little more, and Audie dared him right back, and the kiss deepened as Quinn climbed up on the table with her and gently laid her down, feeling her stretch out all soft and warm and willing beneath him.

And it continued, as she offered him her tongue and felt him suck it and pull it into his mouth and the flame licked low inside her and she felt his hands go into her hair, then down her neck to her shoulders, then wrap around her body, and the kiss grew wet and rough and she felt how very hard he was against her belly and she couldn't help it and just threw her legs around his waist and rolled with him.

They smashed into one of the chairs first, then tumbled onto the deck together, their legs askew but their kiss unbroken.

She scrambled on top of him, straddling his hips and devouring his lips, yanking his shirt from his belt, reaching up inside to get her hands on his bare chest, and raking her fingertips across his pebble-hard nipples.

"I want you bad, Quinn." She spoke, but her lips never left his.

"I'm going to tear off your clothes now," he mumbled, tugging on the zipper at the back of her dress.

"I'm going to rip off your pants," she told him, her declaration muffled not only by the ongoing kiss but also by the giggles now coming from both of them.

They began to shake with laughter while they pulled at each other's clothing, their lips never parting-at least not until the back door opened and a man's voice called out into the night.

"Quinn? You home?"

They didn't dare breathe.

"Quinn? You're freaking me out. Where are you?"

"Uh, down here."

While Quinn answered, Audie zipped the dress and hid her face, hoping the roommate's eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the darkness.

"Jesus, Quinn, what are you doing down there? You scared me."

"My sincere apologies."

"Oh. Sorry. Well, I'm going to bed."

"Why aren't you at Marie's house?"

"She's got PMS. I'll lock the front door. Good night." He turned to leave but remembered his manners. "Hello. I'm Quinn's roommate, Rocky Datillio. And you are…?"

"Going home now," Audie said.