Knock Me Off My Feet

Chapter 7

September 10

Dear Homey Helen:

I've been thinking. September 22 is a dreadfully long way off. Could we possibly reschedule? I've tried to be patient-you have no idea how I've tried-but my patience is wearing thin.

I just don't think I can wait another moment for you to be dead. It's not like you'll leave behind a grieving family, now, is it? Why don't we just get to it?

– Your most loyal fan

PS: I thought your column on top fifty uses for transparent tape was to die for!

Her hands started to shake, and she felt a cold flash of panic race through her bloodstream. She handed the note back to Griffin very slowly, careful not to touch any part but the edges of the paper-careful not to meet his eye as she turned toward her office door.

"Audie?" Griffin placed the letter back on the reception desk, watching her walk away. "Shit."

Marjorie was shaking her head.

"Do you think I should talk with her?"

Marjorie wiped tears off her cheek with a trembling hand and sighed. "I honestly don't know what to do at this point. Why don't you go in with her for a minute while I call those detectives, and then I'll try to talk with her, OK?"

Griffin nodded. "Are you all right, Marjorie?"

She pulled her mouth tight. "It makes me very emotional. I see these notes and Audie's sadness and everything that happened with Helen comes back to me like it was yesterday. I get so damn angry, Griffin! I feel so-God, I don't know-helpless, I suppose."

"I hear you," Griffin said softly. He patted the top of her hand and headed into Audie's office. He heard Marjorie sigh and pick up the phone.

Audie was sitting on top of the credenza near the window, surrounded by tall stacks of newspapers and file folders, hugging her legs tight and resting her chin on her knees. Griffin closed the door and leaned on the wall.

"Hey, girl. Is there anything I can do?"

She shook her head. "Just call Quinn and Stanny-O."

"Marjorie is doing that now. Anything else?"

"No."

"Do you want to be alone?"

"No."

"Would you like a hug?"

"No. But thanks."

Griffin sighed. This was an all-too-familiar state for him-not knowing exactly what Autumn Adams wanted or needed. It had always been this way with them, as a couple and as friends. When she pulled away like this he felt useless, the same as Marjorie. It was as if Audie wanted him but didn't want him; as if she needed something, but she wouldn't take anything.

She told him once that she believed she was missing some basic part of her heart-she just didn't know how to deal with people who wanted to comfort her, love her. She'd never had much experience with that sort of thing, she explained.

Griffin waited with her for many quiet minutes, watching her stare out the windows. "I'm sorry, Audie," he exhaled, letting his shoulders slump. "I wish there was something I could do to help you."

She nodded, and Griffin saw her jaw tremble and her shoulders shake.

"Oh, please don't cry."

The tears made his worthlessness complete. Griffin scanned the room for a box of tissues but didn't see one, though it could certainly be lurking beneath the layers of junk in there.

Just then, Marjorie tapped on the door and she stepped in, carrying a tray of hot tea, a boxof Kleenex, and a slice of her German chocolate cake.

Griffin would just go out and wait for the detectives. Audie was obviously in competent hands.

"We should place a patrol officer here in the office and have one at her apartment when we're not around," Stanny-O said.

Quinn nodded silently, still balancing the latest letter between his fingertips, still reading, still thinking.

He glanced over at Griffin, draped across Marjorie's desk chair looking quite surly. His expression didn't go with the festive tie-dyed T-shirt and billowy cargo pants he was wearing.

The guy may have questionable taste in clothing, but Quinn and Stanny-O agreed-there was no question that Griffin cared for Audie, that he would do anything for her. Griffin Nash wasn't sending these notes.

"So, Griffin, what's your take on this?"

Griffin 's head popped up, his eyes darting from Quinn to Stanny-O and back. "My take is I wish to hell you two would find out who's doing this. This one really ripped her up."

Quinn's stomach clenched, and a little painful surge moved through him at the thought that she was hurting. Then the inside of his skull began to throb at the thought that Timmy Burke may have done this to her.

He glanced at the closed door to Audie's office. He hadn't heard any crying from in there for a good long while, so maybe Marjorie had been able to calm her down.

"So? Any leads, mon?" Griffin stood up and moved in front of the desk.

Stanny-O and Quinn looked at each other briefly before Quinn answered him.

"Nothing new."

"Do you think it's Drew?"

Quinn and Stanny-O stared at him.

"You think it's her brother?" Stanny-O asked. "What's your insight into Andrew Adams?"

Griffin laughed, crossing his ankles casually as he leaned against the reception desk.

"We're not close. He didn't exactly welcome me to the family, if you know what I mean. So what I tell you, you got to realize doesn't come from an objective source, right?"

"Right." Stanny-O smiled.

"Andrew Adams is a spoiled, elitist, lazy, pussy-assed rich boy who hates anyone who doesn't belong to the Chicago Yacht Club. He drinks more than any man should be allowed. He doesn't give a shit about Audie or anyone but himself, for that matter. That about sums it up."

"Hey, don't hold back on our account." Stanny-O chuckled.

Griffin scowled at him.

"OK, so he's another asshole. We seem to have hit the motherlode in this case, don't you think, Quinn?"

"Absolutely."

"But that don't mean he's sending the letters. You really think he's our man, Griffin?"

"Probably."

Stanny-O frowned. "And his motive?"

"Money."

"As things stand right now, we've got no physical evidence on him," Quinn said. "He's lost a boatload of money in the last year, but he's managing to stay afloat. His printer doesn't match up and his prints aren't on any of the letters."

"And whose prints are?"

Quinn smiled a bit. "Well, Griffin, the letters that came before we arrived were covered in fingerprints-yours, Marjorie's, and Audie's. After we asked you to be careful handling the paper, there have been none at all."

Griffin frowned, and just then the door to Audie's office opened and Marjorie walked out, smiling, an empty plate and teacup in her hand. She gave Quinn a reassuring nod and gestured toward Griffin 's office.

"Would you mind if I had a word with you, Detective? Can we use your office, Griffin?"

"Sure."

Quinn followed Marjorie, entered the office, and leaned up against the wall. He was surrounded by soccer action photographs- Griffin apparently played with the Baltimore Blast and the Chicago Fire. Above Griffin 's desk was a photo of him and Audie, sitting on the stoop of an apartment building, their heads together, grinning.

Finally-Quinn had seen a picture where Audie was smiling.

"How do you think she's holding up, Detective?" Marjorie eased herself into the computer chair, smoothing down her stylish straight skirt. "It's obvious that you two have hit it off, and I thought maybe she was opening up to you a little bit. She's a difficult person to read sometimes."

Quinn nodded and studied Marjorie with appreciation. She was a slim, attractive woman with nice pale eyes and fashionably short silver hair. She moved with surprising grace for someone her age.

Though she seemed devoted to Audie, he and Stan had checked out her background just to be sure, and found nothing that would indicate a motive for sending the notes. Marjorie's business partnership with Helen Adams had made her a very wealthy woman. She'd welcomed them graciously into her elegant La Salle Street townhouse and talked for hours about the Homey Helen column, answering all their questions and then some. Her computer equipment wasn't a match.

"I thought she was doing OK up until this morning," Quinn answered her.

"Are you with her all the time, Detective? Is somebody with her all the time?"

Quinn looked down into Marjorie's worried face and wished he had something more reassuring to tell her. He watched as Marjorie suddenly winced and brought her hand to her head.

"It'll be all right, Marjorie."

She shook her head and swallowed. "It's not… I'm sorry. I've got a horrible headache, and this has been a completely awful morning. You were saying?"

"We're going to post a uniformed officer here and one at her place when Detective Oleskiewicz or myself can't be with her. We'll keep her safe."

She nodded but continued to frown, apparently not satisfied with his answer. Then she sighed.

"I think she likes you quite a bit, Detective." She looked up at him quizzically. "Is the sentiment returned?"

"Are you always this nosy, Marjorie?"

She laughed. "Oh, well, yes, I suppose I am! Television is repulsive and I can only read so many hours before my eyes start to go haywire, so I have to find my jollies somewhere, don't I?"

They shared a brief laugh before her expression went serious again.

"I don't mean to pry, Detective, but has she told you about that Tim Burke, the vice mayor?"

Quinn's whole body stiffened and he felt the little hairs on the back of his neck prick up. "What about him?"

"That he's always bothering her. That he sends her flowers about once a week. That it's been more than a year since they broke up, but the man won't leave her alone."

Quinn stared at her, thinking through all the details-he'd get a search warrant. He'd confiscate Burke's home and work computer equipment. He'd-

"And Audie just told me he showed up the other night at her apartment. Uninvited, of course."

He'd kill him. The lying sack of shit-of course Audie wasn't "coming around." How could he have wondered for a moment that it was possible?

"Thank you, Marjorie. I'll talk to Audie about this."

"I was wondering what we should do about her road trip next week. Should we cancel, do you think? Russell will probably go postal on me if I suggest it, but I just don't know if going out of town is a good idea right now."

"Where's she supposed to be?"

" Los Angeles Tuesday through Thursday. Dallas Friday. Atlanta Saturday and Sunday."

"Would she be going alone?"

"Yes."

"Is it possible to cancel?"

"Oh, certainly."

"Then that sounds like a wise thing to do."

Marjorie sighed and stood, still rubbing her forehead. "Then I'll try to handle Russell." She smiled at Quinn bravely on the way out the door, but Quinn could see the discomfort in her eyes. "Maybe it's time I ask for that raise."

When Quinn stepped into the reception area, Audie was there, waiting for him. Her eyes were red and her face looked a bit puffy and all he wanted to do was cradle her in his arms, tell her everything would be all right, that he was right there and he'd keep her safe.

Instead he smiled at her and felt the relief wash through him when she tried to smile back.

"Got any plans for today, Miss Adams?"

She shook her head, her eyes so big and sad and beautiful.

"What do you say to lunch and maybe a nice long run? We haven't seen the lions in a while."

As he watched the edges of those lovely lips curl up in delight, Quinn thought again how much he wanted to hold her-but this time he also thought about crushing her with his mouth, covering her body with his, being inside her, protecting her from all the Timmy Burkes of the world, even if it were the last thing he ever did.

"That sounds absolutely perfect, Detective," she said.

And for a second, Quinn wondered what she'd just agreed to.

They had a long, exhausting run, and on the way back to the apartment they stopped at the grocery, and Audie was certain it was the first time she'd ever been positively giddy in the Dominick's produce section.

And now the man who made her that way was cooking for her, his hair still damp from the shower, his lean, muscled arms and hands chopping and slicing and mixing and stirring.

Audie remembered how she'd taken one home economics class in high school and the teacher had compared cooking to chemistry-the careful mixture of elements to achieve a predictable result, time after time.

Chemistry hadn't been her calling either, as she recalled, and so it made sense that her home ec projects boiled over, congealed, or exploded at random.

Helen had been very disappointed.

But right now, Quinn was showing her how to adjust the gas flame so that the onions would sauté clear, not brown, and she was actually interested-interested in standing close to him and hearing his voice, in breathing in his scent, in feeling him near her.

"Are you listening, Homey? I'll be testing you on this later."

"I'm just fascinated, Quinn. I didn't know what all those little knobs were for."

He shot her a sideways glance and pointed in front of him. "This is called a pan."

"Could you go over that one more time?"

"Just hand over the chicken, Miss Adams," he said. "Do you have a preference between breasts and thighs?"

As she reached for the plate of chicken Quinn had already seasoned, she felt her heart pound. "Which do you prefer, Detective?"

He turned to her, eyes searing like olive green lasers. "Don't make me choose, Homey. That would be cruel."

She nodded, feeling a rush of heat from her toes up through her solar plexus to the top of her head. She handed him the chicken, realizing she'd never been this nervous around raw poultry, or around a man.

All through dinner she kept wondering why Quinn hadn't kissed her that afternoon or that night. She wondered why he wasn't teasing her to the usual degree. She thought maybe it was because he was worried about her, and she wasn't sure if she liked the idea of that.

Later, they sat together on the leather couch, tucked into opposite ends, their legs and bare feet stretched out alongside each other. It was just a leg, she reasoned with herself, and there was no reason that the warm touch of his skin and the soft brush of his body hair should be sending crackles of electricity up her spine.

There was no reason such innocent contact should make her hands sweat. And there was certainly no call for her heart to slam under her ribs the way it was.

"Stop it," she whispered to her own heart.

"I'm not doing anything," Quinn said.

"Oh. Not you! I… forget it."

She watched helplessly as Quinn took a sip of his white wine, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. Wow. Lightning bolt time. He was one damn fine-looking man. She saw the sharp line of his jaw, the lean muscles down his neck, his Adam's apple, and the peek of his collarbone beneath the T-shirt.

Audie knew all she had to say was, "OK. Now," and Quinn would be on her like a cheap suit. She took a sip of her own wine and cleared the thought from her brain, reminding herself that this was uncharted waters for her. There was something waiting for her with Quinn-she could feel it. And it was big and scary and she didn't have a name for it.

The theme music from Jaws pounded in her brain.

OK, fine. She was attracted to him. But she could handle it. Besides, sex with him would probably be anticlimactic, run-of-the-mill stuff. She was building this up for no good reason. Quinn would be just like every other man she'd ever been with-somewhere between better than nothing and almost wonderful.

Wouldn't he?

She placed her wineglass on the coffee table. "Be right back," she said, standing up.

Quinn watched her do a header over the ottoman.

"You all right there, Homey?" He raised up lazily to see her scramble to her feet, yank down her tank top, and shake her hair.

"Couldn't be better," she huffed, walking toward the wine bottle on the kitchen counter. Quinn watched her straighten those wide, smooth shoulders and gracefully swing her arms. She looked extraordinary in a tank top, with all the good parts highlighted in case a man had poor vision.

Next he watched the sweet roundness of her body moving beneath thin cotton drawstring shorts. The shorts looked comfortable on her. His shorts were rapidly becoming uncomfortable on him.

Quinn slowly shook his head.

This woman was something else. She couldn't lie if her life depended on it. Obviously, every time she tried to be something she wasn't or walk away from the truth, she fell on her face.

She'd probably been sitting there telling herself she didn't want to go to bed with him. Then bam!-face-first on the floor.

Now that's the kind of woman a guy could feel secure with, unlike Laura. It still bothered him that here he was, a man who cut through lies and secrets for a living, and he hadn't noticed that his own girlfriend was unfaithful. She'd been a very smooth liar.

"Want some more wine?" Quinn looked up at Audie appreciatively. She was gorgeous-all soft and round shapes on a firm, solid frame-and right then he couldn't help but stare at the undersides of her breasts, and he was certain she wasn't wearing a bra.

Had he run his tongue over those breasts? Maybe the rise of her flesh just above her nipples? He couldn't remember. Did he get a chance on the sidewalk? No, not there. The deck? He might have…

She was smiling down at him. They'd had another good run today, and he loved to have an excuse to watch her pushing herself physically, sweating, breathing hard, those little wet curls sticking to the skin on her neck.

Autumn Adams was definitely going to be worth waiting for.

"Yo, Quinn. Wine?"

He looked up at her warily. "Sure. Thanks."

Audie poured herself another glass and went back to her corner, returning her legs to their previous position-skin to skin. She sighed.

"Uh, can I ask you a question, Audie?"

Quinn watched her roll her eyes, just as he knew she would.

"What now, Stacey?"

He snickered a little, appreciating this little game they played. Audie pretended like she didn't want him inside her head, but she did. He could tell. She was only taking it slow, just like she said she had to.

"What part of the letter upset you the most this morning?"

She looked right at him but didn't answer.

"Was it the part about not having a family?"

She nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yeah," she whispered.

"I'm sorry, Audie. That was mean stuff."

She nodded again.

"I need to ask you how much you've talked to Timmy Burke about your family."

"What?" Audie jerked back. "Tim Burke?"

"Yeah. Did you tell him about your family? Would he know a lot of the details of what it was like for you growing up?"

"No, of course not." Audie was frowning. "Tim was more interested in talking about himself. We never really got around to me."

Quinn smiled. "Sounds about right."

"He's not sending those letters, Quinn."

"Then how do you explain all the flowers, the phone calls, the late-night visits here to your place?"

Audie groaned and shut her eyes. "Marjorie has a really big mouth."

"She's worried about you, and I don't blame her. Why didn't you tell me about Timmy? It's a real important piece of information that I should have had from the beginning."

"Because he's not sending the letters, Quinn! God, you've got this thing about Tim Burke, don't you?" She tipped her head and stared at him. "What happened between the two of you? The day I gave you my stupid list I watched you practically boil over just at the sight of his name. What's the deal here?"

She watched Quinn hop up from the couch, taking his leg with him.

He paced for a moment before he came around and sat down on the teak coffee table right in front of her. Audie straightened up and looked at his face. She went cold.

Quinn leveled his gaze at her. "I'm going to tell you about me and Timmy."

"All right." She had a feeling this was about more than a schoolyard brawl.

"Part of it is old stuff.It happened seventeen years ago, but I live with it every day. It's about my brother John."

Audie frowned. "I didn't even know you had a brother named John. You've only told me about Patrick and Michael."

"That's because John died when he was eight years old. I let him die."

Quinn's expression horrified Audie. She'd seen arrogance, desire, anger, and humor in those green-and-gold eyes but nothing like this. She didn't know what to say, so she stayed quiet and just let him talk.

"John was the baby and he was a handful, let me tell you. He had a couple different learning disabilities and we couldn't turn our back on him for a second. He'd roam the neighborhood, go into other people's houses, eat food out of their refrigerators, disappear for hours. It drove my mother insane.

"I remember this one time he vanished at night, and from dinner to midnight we were scouring the neighborhood. My parents were a wreck and Da had half of District Twenty-two out cruising the streets, going door-to-door.

"Finally, our neighbor Mrs. Geleski comes over to the house. She'd been getting into bed for the night and heard somebody breathing next to her-the poor woman just about had a coronary. She looks over and sees John crammed down in the space between her bed and the wall. He was sawing logs, peaceful as could be."

"Good grief," Audie said.

"So that was John. And one day when I was seventeen, I was supposed to be on John duty when Timmy and I started fighting over a girl-Mary Beth Horan. We were busy beating the crap out of each other and John got hit by a car, right in front of me, killed instantly."

Audie stopped breathing. She watched him hang his head. "Oh, Quinn."

"Timmy and I had been at each other's throats since elementary school." Quinn kept his eyes down. "Hockey, soccer, academics, girls-we competed in everything-but by high school it was usually just girls.

"So that day he was telling me all this crap about what he did to Mary Beth-I was wild about her-and I completely forgot about John. He rode his bike right out into the middle of Artesian Avenue and got hit."

Quinn rubbed his face with both hands and groaned, looking up at Audie again. "I ran to my brother and started screaming for help, and that's when I see Timmy walking down the sidewalk, real slow, with a smile on his face. Then I heard him laughing."

The devastation in Quinn's eyes blasted a hole right through Audie's heart.

"I wanted you to understand why I don't like Timothy Burke."

"I understand," she said softly.

"And that's not all." Quinn ran his hands through his hair and slumped forward, letting his elbows rest on his knees. His face was just inches from Audie's now, and she could feel the rage building in him again.

"Recently, I was with a woman named Laura. She and I were together for almost three years."

"I know," Audie said.

He looked surprised.

"Stanny-O told me."

He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. "What else did he tell you?"

"That he thought you were eventually going to marry her, but she left you and moved to Miami. That's all he told me."

Quinn nodded slowly. "Mmm. Well, she did move to Miami, but as far as marrying her… no. I don't think so." Quinn's eyes stayed on Audie for several long seconds, and she saw him weighing something in his mind.

"In fact, Laura got very pissed when I said I wasn't ready to settle down with her. So she started seeing Timmy Burke on the side, for several months at least. I don't know all the details. I don't want to know them. But the juicy part is she knew all about my history with Timmy when she did it-kind of the ultimate kick in the nuts."

"Good God. When was this?"

Quinn's eyes looked so tired. He looked so defeated. "Last spring. I found out in April."

Audie stared at him and felt her face go hot. Then she hissed in disgust. "April? I was seeing Tim then."

He nodded a little and smiled grimly. "Small world, huh?"

"Wow." She felt sick to her stomach. "But we never… uh…" Audie shook her head. "Look. We weren't-you know-involved. He took me to dinner quite a few times and I went to a lot of functions with him, but I… " Why did she feel she needed to explain herself to Quinn? "I didn't like him much. I asked him not to call me anymore. And I was hoping that would be the end of it."

"He told me the other day that he was in love with you."

Audie's eyes went wide. "Oh, hell."

"He told me you went down on him in the car."

"What!?" She jolted to her feet in the narrow space between them, and Quinn was suddenly staring at her belly button and a narrow strip of exposed skin above her shorts.

"Audie. Sit down." He pulled her next to him on the table. She was shaking with anger.

"I'm sorry, but I thought you should know what he was saying."

"My God. The guy is absolute scum."

"I didn't believe him, though."

She stared at him openmouthed. "Well, thanks a million."

"He also said you were 'coming around' and that you two were getting back together."

"Like hell!" She tried to stand up again, but Quinn grabbed her wrists and pulled her down in his lap.

"So that's the story with Timmy Burke."

"God, Quinn." Her mind cleared and she remembered how this whole conversation had begun-with his little brother dying.

She placed her hand againstQuinn's upturned face. "I'm so sorry about John." Her fingers brushed against his cheek. "I'm so sorry that happened. I don't know what to say."

Though his eyes were shadowed by old grief, it did nothing to dull the power there, the intensity, and Audie felt herself shiver in his gaze.

"Just say that from now on you'll tell me anything that might pertain to your case-about Timmy or anyone else-OK?"

She nodded, allowing herself to see things through Quinn's eyes. Maybe Tim Burke was more than just an annoyance. Maybe he was an honest-to-God stalker.

"I refuse to let anything happen to you, Audie."

She nodded again, helpless in his stare and burning up because she was touching him, because the backs of her thighs were pressed down into the hard muscle of his legs.

"Even if it's not Burke, it's somebody. But I'll keep you safe."

The hell he would. Audie was perfectly aware that she'd never be safe around Stacey Quinn-not when he made her heart pound and her blood throb and when he smelled so good and felt so hot against her skin.

Maybe safety was highly overrated.

She dipped her mouth to his because she just couldn't fight it anymore, and his response was serious and sure and Audie felt him moan deep in his chest as his hands cupped her bottom and he pulled her tighter.

Audie devoured him. She grabbed on to his shoulders and kissed the man like the world was coming to an end and this was the last kiss she'd ever be able to give him, her last chance to convince Quinn that it was good to be alive.

Her tongue slid into his warm, wet mouth, and she brought her teeth down on his lips and he tasted like hot wine and hot man. She could feel him begin to smile under her kisses, and she felt his hand slide over the contours of her hips.

Then his hands were up the back of her tank top and his touch seared her skin, and suddenly she sensed that she was moving up and coming to rest on the couch, Quinn now on top of her, Quinn now covering her with his hard weight and his clean smell. His hands were roaming up the front of her shirt, and when his fingers touched the sensitive tips of her breasts she groaned with relief.

"Oh, God, woman," he whispered. "Do you have any idea how sexy you are?"

"Medium sexy?" she mumbled.

"Wrong. Very, very wrong."

Quinn put his mouth on her throat and she leaned her head back so he'd have more room to do whatever it was he was doing with his tongue and teeth and lips.

"I have a confession to make," Audie whispered between hard breaths, her head lolling to the side.

"Confessions cleanse the soul."

"This is not a clean confession."

"Those are the best kind."

"You are the sexiest man I've ever known in my entire life, Stacey Quinn." She grabbed his butt and pulled him against her, arching under him to feel how hard he was.

"You're a pushy little Protestant thing, aren't you?" He reached behind him and pulled her hands from his ass and pushed them over her head, pinning them to the armrest with one hand.

"Do you like to play rough, Audie?" He laughed when her eyes flashed wide beneath him, and he thought it was time he let the tip of his tongue take that long, hot slide up her throat

When he did, all she could do was gasp.

Quinn raised up and used his other hand to shove the soft cotton top up under her chin. No bra, just Audie, and she was displayed beneath him and he could hardly believe he wasn't dreaming.

He brushed his palm over one fabulous, golden, round breast, then the other, enjoying how her toffee-pink nipples peaked with the barest friction.

"What are we doing this time, Audie?"

"You're giving me another foot massage."

"Wow." Quinn dipped his head and nibbled on a nipple. "Then I should have been a podiatrist," he whispered.

The sound of her low, throaty chuckle made him close his eyes in pleasure. When he reopened them, he saw her sweet laughing face, those dark eyes and darker lashes, her plump mouth. She was beauty and softness and sex beneath him, and he'd never wanted a woman so much in his life.

"Would you kiss me again, Quinn?"

A wave of exquisite heat rolled through his groin.

"If you'd kiss me back."

The instant his lips touched hers, Audie lost whatever bit of control she thought she had. Her response was beyond control, beyond reason. She knew she wasn't ready for this, that this would likely end just as badly as every other relationship, but her body gave her no choice in the matter. At that moment, all she wanted was to give to him, take from him, die in the heat of him. It was exhilarating. It was scary and intense and it was building and building.

He dragged his lips down her throat, over the clump of tank top, and then down to her breasts. His tongue was hot and his teeth were gentle and skilled, and she began to writhe beneath him, her wrists still pinned above her head.

"You're very spicy, Audie." His voice was scratchy and low. "I've been wondering how you would taste and you taste spicy."

"But my spices aren't alphabetized."

"I don't give a fuck."

Her giggle turned to a moan when he bit down on a nipple, then caressed it with his tongue.

"Oh, God."

He released her hands and let his mouth travel down her smooth stomach. Her hands rippled along his shoulders and neck as he kissed her belly button and pressed his lips against the front of her shorts. Then he raised his head to see her stretched out on the couch, reaching for him, half-naked and all his.

"Come here to me, Audie," Quinn said, and he cupped his hands under her bottom and pulled down on her shorts and underwear, until a mound of dark curls appeared before him.

He stopped to stare. He could hardly breathe. She was perfectly formed, opening with desire, dark and lush.

"Come here to me," he said again, as he yanked the clothing from her feet and reached for her hands to pull her to a sitting position.

"Quinn, what are you …?"

"Relax, Homey. I'm going to take real good care of you."

Audie let her head fall back against the couch, telling herself this wasn't really happening. This had to be some kind of extremely wanton sexual fantasy. In all likelihood, Quinn had just excused himself to go to the bathroom and she was sitting on the couch, alone, making all this up in her head because she was so sexually frustrated. She should be ashamed of herself.

Because there was no way she was really sprawled on the couch with her shirt up around her neck like this. Stacey Quinn couldn't be bending her legs and spreading her apart like this. His fingers were not slipping into her and she was certainly not squirming against his hand like this or making these sounds in her throat.

He was not kneeling in front of her with his sun-streaked head between her thighs like this, like he worshipped her, smiling up at her with his green eyes and doing things with his mouth that made her want to believe in God.

This could not be happening.

But then his tongue licked into her so long and slow and thorough that she heard herself cry out and she started to pant. When he licked her again, two things became very clear in Audie's befuddled brain-Quinn was, in fact, kneeling in front of her with his tongue and fingers hot inside her. And he would, in fact, take really, really good care of her. He already was.

Then a third thing occurred to her-the phone was ring ing."

She stopped squirming under him.

"Don't get it, Audie," he breathed into her, not lifting his head. "Let the answering machine get it." He nibbled along the swollen rim of her.

"I don't have an answering machine anymore!" she cried out, panicked. "Oh, God, I don't have an answering machine!"

"I'll buy you one tomorrow. They're a lot more affordable than they used to be." His tongue landed hot and sharp on her erect little clitoris and she grabbed on to his shoulders to pull him closer, then push him away, right as she teetered on the brink of a sharp orgasm.

"Oh, God, yes! Yes! Wait! Stop! Crap! Oh, hell!"

Audie forced herself to breathe and forced herself to think. She wormed her way out from beneath him and lunged for the phone on the side table.

"Russell?"

Quinn watched in horror as Audie pulled the tank top down over those luscious breasts that he hadn't sucked on near enough and he thought he'd cry when she bent over to find her shorts and underwear and… suddenly she was gone. All of that soft, wet flesh was put away.

He could hear Russell screaming.

"Why haven't you called me? Why did you cancel your trip? It's going to totally fuck up your publicity schedule!"

Quinn collapsed face-first into the couch cushions.

"Why haven't you messengered the contract over to me? What the hell is wrong with you, Audie? Now we've got less than a week to agree to the terms!"

"Then get me an extension, because I'm not ready to sign anything yet!" she screamed. "And don't call me at home at… what the hell time is it anyway?"

"Ten-thirty," Quinn offered helpfully, lifting his head and turning as he plopped down on the floor.

Audie whipped around to look at him, startled by his appearance. He looked all scruffy and shell-shocked and his mouth was red and wet and he was leaning against the front of the couch like he'd been shot.

She'd just attacked the man again! And he'd just… "Oh, boy," she whispered.

"Audie?"

"What, Russell? Get me an extension and leave me alone-can I be any more direct than that? Jeesh! What is with people? It's like they don't take me seriously!"

Quinn stood up just then, and it was obvious that he took her quite seriously, because Audie's eyes were drawn to his nylon shorts, now straining around a rather impressive erection.

"My God, you're huge," she whispered involuntarily.

"What did you just say to me?" Russell screamed.

"Oh, crap. Hell." Audie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Work it out, Russell. And don't call me again."

She slammed down the phone and turned to Quinn, who was slowly advancing toward her, his eyes hot and green and serious. She brought up her arm, bracing it out straight, palm out, and she felt like Diana Ross doing "Stop in the Name of Love."

"Don't move."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to do this."

"But I do." He moved a step closer.

"I'm not ready," she breathed. "Please."

"Not ready for what?"

"For you, Quinn." Once again she surveyed everything the man had to offer and she let out a little whimper. "All ofyou."

"You sure felt ready a minute ago."

"My body is. The rest of me isn't."

He stopped and brought a hand up to his forehead and rubbed furiously. "What are you doing to me, Audie?"

"Oh, God. I'm sorry. I don't mean to do this. I'm just scared, OK? I'm scared of you."

His eyes widened and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, aware that he might look a bit… damp. "Why in God's name are you scared of me?"

Audie stared at him, handsome and sexy and rumpled and hard as concrete. She closed her eyes.

"Because of who you are, everything you are, everything I feel-everything I'm not very experienced with." Audie's breath was coming in gulps and she dared to look at him again. "I need to be sure, OK? You're different, and I need to be sure. Can you give me one more chance to try to get ready for you?"

Quinn turned away and crumpled onto the couch. She watched him grind his palms against his closed eyes.

"Are you OK?"

"I'm fine."

"You're not hurt or anything?"

He laughed, letting his head fall back as his eyes swept over her from top to bottom. "Men aren't physically injured when we can't complete the act, you know. It's just something we tell women."

Audie put her hands on her hips. "I know. Like 'Size doesn't matter.'"

He chuckled. "Kind of like that."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"Why are you being so nice about this, Quinn? If I were you, I'd be calling me names right now."

Quinn sat up and put his elbows on his knees, staring at her. "Now why in the world would I do that, Homey?" A grin appeared on his stricken face and Audie's heart melted. "See, I want to get in your pants-and stay there-in the worst possible way, so how would name-calling accomplish that?"

She could see his logic.

"I'll put up with a bit more torture if I have to. I've already decided you're worth the wait." The grin spread wider. "I'll just think of tonight as an appetizer-a nice juicy appetizer at a restaurant with real slow service."

She laughed. "I'm pretty tortured myself," she said, smiling down at him, acutely aware of the truth of that statement. She was wet, trembling, and aching inside for him to fill her, but despite all that, he'd just made her laugh! How did he do that? Did he have any idea what a lethal combination that was for her?

"Everything you need should be in the guest room, Quinn."

"Not quite everything."

"I'll see you in the morning, Detective." She wanted desperately to kiss him good night but remembered the good-night kiss on his deck and knew they'd be right back where they started. With a sigh, she headed down the hallway.

"Hey, Homey?" He saw her spin around.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a question?" He peered around the end of the couch.

Audie laughed outright. "Quinn, at this point I think you can ask me anything, so stop asking if you can ask me and just ask me."

"Great." He smiled broadly. "I was wondering if you'd come see our pipe band play at CityFest next week, since you're going to be staying in town now."

Audie had to giggle at how cute he looked, peeking at her, obviously wanting her to say yes.

"Sure. I'd be delighted. Kilts and all, Stacey?"

"Kilts and all, Homey."

An hour later, Audie was still wide awake, trying to sort out why she'd just run away from what had promised to be outstanding sex.

Did she want a guarantee of some sort?

No, she wasn't stupid. There was no such thing as a guarantee.

Did she need to know him better?

No, not really. She knew he had a kind heart and respected her wishes, no matter how crazy they made him. She knew the things he'd told her that night took a lot of courage. Stacey Quinn was a good man.

Did she trust him?

Yes, she trusted him.

Did she trust herself?

Bingo-that was the issue right there. It was a foregone conclusion that they wouldn't last long. Nothing ever did.

It was just a matter of time before he'd want too much from her, before he'd expect something she couldn't give.

It was only a matter of time before she hurt him, and she really didn't want to hurt Stacey Quinn.

She liked him too much.

On the dock the other night, she told him she sucked at relationships, and it was the truth. She was giving him a chance to step away. But he didn't. He pulled her closer instead.

Why did he do that?

"I don't know the first thing about love," she whispered in the dark. "You should have listened to me, Quinn!"

She flipped over on her stomach and groaned with frustration, because that's exactly what she was dealing with here-love-whether she wanted it or not. For the first time in her life, she was thinking of possibly, maybe, trying to love a man, not just have a sexual relationship with him.

And that was what scared her about Quinn.

At the same time, Quinn was lying awake in Audie's chic gray-and-white guest room, staring out from the platform bed to the dark windows and the darker sky, wondering just how much longer she'd make him wait. His body hurt. He still tasted her. Everything from the waist down was throbbing and hard and ready.

Above his waist, in the region of his heart, there was another sensation entirely-a warm one, one that made him smile, one that made him feel like something was locking into place. It felt like that night by the boathouse, when he opened his arms to Audie and she stepped inside.

Quinn knew he had a tendency to set the bar pretty high for himself-personally and professionally. And he knew he'd always had a clear idea in his head about what love would feel like when it came into his life.

He wanted what his parents had and he decided early on that he'd settle for nothing less. He wanted the kind of love that was beautiful and resilient and funny. He wanted passionate love. He wanted love that would challenge him, complete him, make him a better man.

So why was he suddenly wondering if he'd found that in Autumn Adams, a rich, WASPy Cubs fan in the middle of a vocational crisis? A woman who decorated her apartment in the Neo-Landfill style?

It was so outrageous that he almost laughed out loud.

Just then he heard her outside the bedroom door. He closed his eyes and lay still, his heart hammering, wondering what was going to happen next. Would she dive into this bed with him, already naked? Would she drag him into her bed, ripping off his clothes on the way?

Nothing happened. And Quinn waited.

Audie leaned up against the doorjamb and stared at him in the dim light. His holstered gun rested on the nightstand by his head. His face looked lean and smooth and strong in the shadows, his mouth pulled into a straight line in sleep. He had such beautiful bones at his brow, around his eyes-and she wanted to touch him there, touch that sweetness she saw in him.

His mouth began to twitch into a smile-a dream, she thought-and she saw the little boy in him again. She shook her head in surprise. All the way back to her room she thought to herself, Stacey Quinn has taken me by surprise.

Later, when Quinn was satisfied she was asleep, he slipped into his holster and tiptoed across the football field of an apartment. He nearly broke his leg on the running shoes strewn in the middle of the hall, then stopped in front of her closed bedroom door.

He listened carefully, opened it without making a sound, and looked down at her.

She lay halfway on her stomach, the covers all twisted up and thrown off,which made complete sense to him. He remembered all the nervous energy he saw in her that first day. Of course she'd be the kind to toss and turn all night, but he'd find a way to live with that.

He smiled down at her. He'd pictured her in leopard skin, hadn't he? Well, here she was, wearing one of Griffin 's old soccer jerseys, the name "Nash" in bold white letters across the back over a big number ten.

He saw a sliver of white panties where the shirt rose up over her bottom, the same little cotton things she'd worn earlier. No leopard skin there, either.

Quinn admired the long line of leg tucked up chastely in sleep, her thick wavy hair tousled out behind her head. She was so sexy and vulnerable that he had to hold his breath to suppress a sigh of contentment.

Damn, he wanted this woman. He wanted everything she could possibly give. And he startled himself with this next thought: Could Autumn Adams ever love him?

Eventually, he closed the door and leaned against the wall just outside, sinking down into a heap in the hallway. He let his head fall back, knowing there was a silly grin plastered on his face, and fell asleep.

In the morning, Audie woke up, opened her bedroom door, and tripped over something large. She banged her head on the opposite wall and started cussing.

Quinn had already pulled out his weapon and Audie went scrambling backward down the hall on her hands, like a frightened crab.

"God, Audie! You scared the shit out of me!"

"Me? You! You're pointing a gun at me! Put it away! What the hell are you doing in the hallway? Put away the gun!"

He holstered his weapon and groaned, rubbing a hand through his disheveled hair and over his scratchy beard, trying to calm his heart.

"I came to check on you last night."

She blinked at him and clambered to a stand, pulling down on her nightshirt, letting her pulse die down. "You were worried about me?"

"Yes."

OK, fine, Audie decided. He could be worried about her if he wanted. She'd find a way to live with that. She took a step forward and offered him her hand.

"Good morning, Quinn," she said, hoisting him to his feet. "Thanks for keeping me safe."

"My pleasure."

"And thanks for not shooting me."

"I aim to please."