"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
"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
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