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.

Quinn moved through the crowded, cavernous old city hall building at a no-nonsense pace, took the elevator to the fifth floor, and strode through the double glass doors to the reception desk.

He knew there was no need to show his badge, but he couldn't stop himself. "Area Three Violent Crimes Detective Stacey Quinn here to see the vice mayor," he said with a smile.

"Oh, certainly. Have a seat, Detective. He'll be right with you."

That son of a bitch.

Fifteen minutes, twenty minutes went by, and Quinn still sat there in the waiting room outside his office, seething, wanting nothing more than to get up, grab the little pecker by the collar, and beat him to a pulp.

Quinn took a breath and relaxed. He knew Timmy. He knew Timmy was making him sit out here simply because he could, and he'd prefer it if Quinn was good and pissed off so he could have the advantage right from the start.

Quinn wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

He could already see it-Timmy would come bursting out of his office soon enough, making up some sorry-assed excuse, apologizing like a gentleman, acting like it was pure joy to see him, and Quinn wouldn't believe any of it.

In fact, he pictured Tim right that second-probably peeking around the door at him, picking his nose, and snickering the way he did back in Sister Cecilia Edward's third-grade class.

Some people never change.

Quinn shook his head softly. Not today, he told himself. He was here to investigate Audie's case, nothing more. This was not the place to remember the day John died-how his baby brother stopped breathing and all Quinn could hear was Timmy's laugh.

It wasn't the time to start thinking about how Laura had made her point loud and clear from Tim's bed.

Quinn was here to do his job-and he planned to do it professionally, dispassionately, and be on his way.

Then when he got back to the station house, he'd take a hot shower and change his clothes, the usual precaution after any haz-mat spill-or a visit with Timmy Burke.

He heard the office door fly open and Tim appeared in front of him, flustered and apologetic, rambling on about how crazy his life had been this summer and about how he had a luncheon scheduled with a Lithuanian trade group and some other complete shit that Quinn didn't bother to listen to.