“Not if she has something invested in the press conference, which she does.” Lucy took a deep breath and asked the one question she’d been dreading. “Do you think she’s going to come after me?”
Quinn turned to look at her, his brown gaze direct and his mouth a grim line. “I wish I could tell you no, but I can’t. I think there’s a real possibility.”
That’s what Lucy had feared. For the past five days, she’d tried to control the fear eating at her stomach. Now there was no controlling it. It spread up into her throat and into her head, and she couldn’t think past it. The backs of her eyes stung, and she had a hard time drawing air into her lungs. She stood and quickly moved from behind the coffee table to walk across the room. She stared out her big picture window at the black shadows of bare tree limbs creeping up her sidewalk. What was she going to do now? She couldn’t subject her friends and family to danger that was growing worse.
“What am I going to do?” She lifted a hand to grasp her burgundy silk drapes as her mind raced with possible solutions. “I guess I can go to a hotel. I could take my laptop and try to work.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. A hotel room sounded confining. Safe, but confining. “Or I could go get a gun. I don’t know how to shoot a gun, but how hard can it be? You just point and squeeze.” Her voice shook when she added, “Right? Or…or I can board Snookie and head for Cancun.”
Quinn placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her back against his chest. “You don’t need a gun or to head off to Mexico.” He felt so solid. Warm and safe, and she stood there because it was better than falling apart. “You have me.”
She wished that were true. “What are you going to do?” She laughed without humor. “Move into my guest room?” She was being facetious, although she had to admit that having a big bad cop in the house sounded like heaven.
“No, I can help you relocate for a while.” He slid his hands down her arms and grasped her waist.
“Where?”
“My house.”
She turned and gazed into his dark brown eyes. He didn’t look crazy. He looked serious. “What are you smoking?”
“I think it’s the perfect solution.” She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grasp. “I have an extra bedroom. You can stay in it.”
“Isn’t there some cop rule against that?”
“No. You’re not a suspect anymore, and besides, no one has to know where you are. In fact, for your safety, it would be best if no one knew.”
The offer sounded tempting, but living in the same house as Quinn was totally out of the question. Not after the last time when she’d somehow ended up naked with his hands in very interesting places. Not when, after everything, she was tempted to let him finish what he’d started that night. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“You’re wrong about that.”
She folded her arms beneath her breasts and didn’t answer. Her silence spoke for her.
He tilted his head back and looked down at her. “Ah. You’re worried about what might happen if you’re alone in my house again. You don’t think you’ll be able to control yourself.”
“You are high.” She knocked his hands from her waist and took several steps back. “I can control myself. I can control myself just fine. You’re the one who started pulling my clothes off.”
“You weren’t complaining.”
“I couldn’t. You had your tongue down my throat.”
He smiled. “Before or after you shoved your hands down my pants?”
Her gaze narrowed, and she thought her head might spin around.
“I don’t know why you’re so mad,” he added and folded his big arms across his wide chest. “It wasn’t that big a deal.”
She lifted her hand and stabbed the air in front of his nose with her finger. “You thought I was a serial killer!” And you told me you wanted a relationship with me when you didn’t. Stab. Stab. “If I’d known the real you, that night never would have happened.” And you made me fall in love with you and you were just doing your job.
He tilted his head back again and pushed her hand aside. “If that’s true, now that you know the real me, you shouldn’t have any problem staying at my house through the weekend until we can get security in place. Don’t turn down my offer out of anger. It’s the best solution all around. You’ll feel safer, and I’ll worry less knowing you’re safe.”
Lucy dropped her hand to her side. While she didn’t care if he worried or not, she had to admit that he had a point. She would feel safer at his house, and she wouldn’t have to endanger her friends or her poor old mother. She would probably want to kill Quinn before this was over, but anger beat scared shitless any day of the week. “Okay, I’ll stay with you, but you have to keep your hands to yourself.”
He laughed as if he found what she’d said really funny. “Just my hands?”
“All body parts.”
“That’s no fun.” His mouth curved into an upside-down smile. “But I think I can control myself. Can you?”
“I can control myself.” She walked around him and added, “I can control myself just fine.” She moved upstairs to her office and packed up her laptop and a few things she would need. She threw some clothes into a suitcase and left Mr. Snookums a bowl of food.
When she was ready to leave, Quinn carried her things to his car and put them in the back-seat. She was probably making a big mistake. One that would make it more difficult for her poor heart to mend. But Quinn made her feel safe. She didn’t know why, but he did. He made her feel as if he was the only solid thing standing between her and a psychotic killer.
On the drive across town to his house, Lucy’s attention was drawn to the gadgets in the car, to the siren and police radio in the control panel. She looked up at the red-and-white lights hooked to the passenger visor, and she was dying to know what everything did. She’d relentlessly researched this sort of thing, but she’d never actually been inside a cop car. Then her gaze fell on the pink roses lying on the seat next to her, and she forgot about research and gadgets.
“Hot date?” she asked as if she didn’t care. As if the thought of him with someone else didn’t carve at her heart.
He glanced at her, his brows drawn together as if he just realized he wasn’t alone in the car. “What?”
“The flowers. Do you have a hot date tonight?”
He returned his gaze to the road and turned onto Broadway Avenue. “No date. Just you, Sunshine.”
He’d lost his mind. That was the only excuse Quinn could think of for why he’d talked Lucy into staying with him. He was going to regret it. He was going to end up wanting to kick his own ass, but her eyes had teared up and she’d stood there looking frightened and alone. Before he’d known what he was doing, he’d reached for her and pulled her back against him. His body had reacted to the smell of her hair and scent of her skin, and he’d had to stand there and fight the urge to bury his face in her neck. The touch of her beneath his hands reminded him of the last time he’d touched her-all over. The desire in the pit of his stomach reminded him of how much he’d been drawn to her, even when he’d thought she might be a homicidal psycho. How much he was drawn to her still.
Afternoon sun poured through the windshield, and he flipped down the visor. What he’d told her had been the truth. He would have wasted a lot of time worrying about her. Even if he assigned a security detail, he’d still worry. He had a job to do, and he couldn’t catch a killer if he was distracted.
Of course, having her in his house was trading one distraction for another, but he’d rest easier if she was with him and Millie, where he could keep a closer eye on her. Millie might be young and immature, but she was territorial and one hell of a barker.