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.
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.
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