Susan Donovan - Knock Me Off My Feet

"It's the rest of your life that concerns me," Quinn said suddenly. He squeezed her hand a bit. "You're by yourself a lot."

"I like it that way. I refuse to let these letters take away my privacy. And I don't want a bodyguard or some cop following me around, if that's what you're getting at."

Quinn dropped her hand and gave it a friendly pat as he returned to the file. "Actually, you don't have much choice. My commander has already made it clear to Stan and me that you're our priority right now."

She shook her head slowly and emphatically. "No way in hell."

"Just until September twenty-second. To be on the safe side."

"No! That's… " She waved her hand, thinking. "That's a month away! There's no way you are going to follow me around for a month, Quinn! Absolutely not!"

He shrugged. "Detective Oleskiewicz then."

"Well-"

"But you should know that Stanny-O's got a wee bit o' the gas now and then."

How extremely vulgar he was. So why was she laughing? It had to be the brogue he'd slipped in for effect, and she couldn't stop giggling to save her soul. Several moments went by before she reclaimed her composure. "You're disgusting, Quinn."

"Thank you, lass."

She stood up from the chair and glared down at him, seeing that he now grinned ear-to-ear.

"There will be no kissing, are we clear on this?" She put her hands on her hips. "I regret that kiss. You're delusional if you think I'm interested in you, Detective, so don't grin at me like that. I think it's best to be honest about this from the beginning so nobody gets hurt. Understand?"

"Honesty is good."

She made an impatient clucking sound, abruptly turned to go, and caught the buckle of her sandal on the chair leg. She toppled over and went belly-down on the shiny linoleum, giving Quinn another look at what he believed was one of her best assets.

He came behind her and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her to her feet. She slapped his hands away and walked out in a huff, not looking back.

Quinn watched every swaying, ripe, and round step she took.

"Jee-ay-sus," he whispered to himself.

Audie decided to walk from the station to her office, taking a detour along Michigan Avenue. She needed the exercise. She needed to take in big gulps of heavy, humid Chicago summer air. She needed to get a grip on herself.

There was something about Quinn that completely unnerved her. He was a very basic man-not as smooth as Griffin or as charismatic as Tim Burke or as devastatingly handsome as Kyle Singer. What he was, she decided, was incredibly male. He oozed it. He knew it. He swaggered. Probably an illness found in all Chicago cops. And the way she'd caught him looking at her-like a lion looks at breakfast. She really should file a citizen's complaint against him for that kiss. She should be revolted by the whole situation.

The problem was, she wasn't revolted and she wasn't complaining. In fact, the man sent chills through her. Quinn could be categorized as one of those dangerous quiet types, she decided, and she'd just have to keep him at arm's length.

Audie sighed-this was going to be a long month.

She stopped at the corner of Michigan and Chicago Avenues to wait for the light. There were nearly 3 million people in this city, and one of them wished her harm. Quinn was right-it was someone who knew her. She could feel it. But who?

She glanced quickly at the sweaty faces so near her, yet so far away, absorbed in their own inner worlds of troubles and desires. They all just stood there, as if in a trance, waiting for the light to change.

She'd be damned if she'd stand around waiting for something awful to happen on September 22. Of course nothing would happen. She refused to even think that way.

Audie crossed the street and picked up the pace. She probably should call Drew to tell him about all this nonsense. She should probably call her brother anyway-it had been at least a couple months since they'd spoken. His latest divorce should be final now, if she remembered correctly.

Audie stopped at the Tiffany's window just to look and to catch her breath. She'd been power walking, it seemed, and her reflection in the dark glass showed sweat pouring down her neck and sticking to the silk blouse.

She crossed the street and walked down Chestnut, smelling the Indian food from the Bombay House and suddenly realizing she was ravenous. She would just run up to her office and get her wallet and-a man was waiting for her on the stoop.

"Hello, Autumn."

"God, Russ! You scared me to death!"

"What a coincidence, then, because you are scaring the living hell out of me lately-do you realize we've got just over a month to renew your contract? Do you realize how many millions of dollars are involved? Do you have a good reason for not returning any of my calls? And why is a police detective harassing me?"

"Wow. Already?" Audie looked up into his gunmetal gray eyes filled with impatience. She pushed past him and bounded up the marble steps to the massive oak-and-leaded-glass doors.

"Just now on my portable," he said, staring at the phone in his palm. "He said he wants to question me about some letters or something. What's this all about, Audie?"

She shrugged, holding the door open for him. He stepped up into the dark, cool foyer and looked down at her. "God, what have you been doing, playing soccer in your skirt? You're dripping wet."

"It's hot, Russ. I sweat when it's hot. I'm a warm-blooded creature, unlike you."

He started up the steps in front of her, ignoring her insult. When they entered the reception area, a blast of icy air conditioning pummeled them and Audie sighed with relief.

"I see he's found you." Marjorie smiled at the two of them and handed Audie a few phone messages. "I made some fresh-brewed raspberry iced tea; would anyone care for some? Next month's columns are all done, Audie, and I need to know if they're good to go. I also need you to OK the travel schedule-it's on your desk. And I just ordered sandwiches for all of us. Will that be all right?"

"Yes," Audie muttered, staring back at Marjorie. "To everything you just said."

"So the syndication numbers are way up over last year-sixty-seven new U.S. newspapers and twelve international. I think it's the modern, sexy twist you bring to the whole concept. I really do. Book sales are steady. Oh, and the feedback is very positive on the new publicity shot-they're going to start sending it out on the wire next month. I think you look fabulous with your hair down."

"Great." Audie fumbled around under the haphazard stacks of paper on her desktop, looking for any stray Tylenol packets. She found one beneath an empty Fritos bag, which she crumpled up and tossed in the wastepaper basket across the room.

"Nothing but net, baby," she said with a smile.

Russell stared at her. He had that pinched look of disapproval on his aristocratic face, the look that had made her cringe when they'd been a couple-the one that made her cringe still.

"Mind if I smoke?" Audie opened her desk drawer and pulled out a pack of Merit Lights. "I'm down to about three cigarettes a week. Isn't that great? For some reason I'm desperate for one at the moment."

Audie eyed him through the smoke, noting with satisfaction the subtle change in his face. She'd succeeded in making him just plain angry now.

Russell Ketchum, partner in Ketchum amp; Clinton Entertainment Law, Inc., was an attractive man by anyone's standards, with those cool eyes and dark hair and fine bones. Audie once had found him terribly attractive-right up until she found him in bed with a paralegal named Megan Peterson. Then it had disintegrated into weeks of begging for forgiveness and another chance. He even said he loved her! What a mess! What a joke!