"You need sugar?"
"No, I'm good like this."
She was good like this, too. Standing in the kitchen with him, drinking coffee. Sharing a comfortable silence.
"So." He set his mug on the counter, then leaned against it and folded his arms. "You going out to buy new underwear this morning?"
Her mouth dropped open. "How...how did you know?"
"Not that hard to figure out," he said quietly. "Figured you'd never want to wear that stuff again, even after you washed it."
"You're right. I couldn't. So, yeah. That's on the list for today."
"Damn shame, though," he said.
When she stared at him, a slight flush crept up his cheeks. "Sorry. Had to go through the drawer. Make sure the bad guy didn't leave anything in there."
"Oh. Right. I hadn't, uh, thought about that." Not only had Quinn seen her underwear collection, but so had the two officers who'd showed up after him.
He leaned toward her. "You want me to get rid of it for you?" he asked.
She raised her eyebrows. "That's a little kinky."
Instead of smiling at her, or flirting back, he shook his head. "I'll donate it to a women's shelter in the area. They always need stuff. Most women show up with only the clothes on their backs."
"That's...that's a great idea." Why hadn't she thought of that? "Can you take it all with you when you leave?"
"Yeah. I'll even bag it for you, if you'd like."
"I would. Thank you." She stared down into her coffee. "I couldn't even look at that drawer this morning."
He slid his hand down her arm, lingered on the back of her hand. His fingers were warm. Comforting. She wanted to turn her hand over and link her fingers with his. "You'll get new underwear, clean out the drawer, and you'll feel better. Every day will be a little easier. And you're going to change your locks, right?"
"First thing." She shuddered, realizing how vulnerable she was. Whoever was here yesterday had gotten into her apartment. He must have had a key, because the door hadn't been tampered with.
Quinn took the coffee mug out of her hand and pulled her into his arms. "Hey," he said softly, his breath tickling her ear. "I didn't mean to bring it all back to you. I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure you'd protect yourself. You want me to stay until you get a locksmith out here?"
She'd tucked her face into his neck, and she shook her head, her lips brushing against his skin. "I'll get a new lock and put it in myself."
"What?" He leaned back, and she wanted to pull him close again. Wanted to surround herself with his scent. "You know how to do that?"
"When I moved here, I didn't have any extra money, so I had to learn how to do minor repairs myself." She shrugged. "You can learn how to do just about anything on YouTube."
"That's the hottest thing I've heard in a long time." His eyes had darkened. "You can change a lock. What else can you do?"
"Fix the sink. Fix the toilet. Stuff like that." Why was he looking at her so strangely? "I live alone. I have to be able to do minor repairs. Even if I had the money, I don't have time to wait around for a repairman."
"I thought you were sexy as hell last night. Now? Knowing you can do stuff like that? I think I'm in love. Tell me you're gonna strap on a tool belt," he begged. "That's the only thing that would be hotter."
She struggled to keep from laughing. "No tool belt. But I do have a very sexy red tool box."
"Be still my heart."
"So a tool box does it for you, huh?"
"You have no idea. We'll have to compare screwdrivers someday."
"Sounds like a fun date."
He leaned in and touched her cheek with his mouth. "I think any date with you would be a fun one."
She thought so, too. She picked up her coffee, took another sip. "So, what happens now?"
"You get right to the point. I like that." He curled his fingers around the handle of his coffee mug, and she wondered if it was to prevent himself from touching her again. "Next is up to you." He hesitated. "I'd like to see you again, but I know last night was difficult. Stressful. You said and did things that you might regret this morning. I understand that. So you have to let me know what you want."
"I don't know, Quinn." She stepped away from him so she could think clearly. "I'd like to see you again, too, but I told you last night that I don't get involved with police officers. So I'm not sure where that leaves us."
"Can I ask you why? Did you have a bad experience with a cop?"
"You could say that," she murmured. She would never forget the sight of all that blood on Brian. His blue lips. His sightless eyes, staring at nothing. And what had preceded it.
"Just like in any other profession, there are all kinds of cops," Quinn said. "Some assholes, a lot of good guys. Don't judge all of us by one bad experience."
She should tell him about Brian. But she'd known Quinn less than a day. "I know that. I'll...I'll try not to let it get in the way, okay?"
"Thanks. I just want a chance to get to know you, Tessa."
She wanted to get to know him, too. But she wouldn't let it get any farther than fun times. She'd keep it superficial. Brian had taught her that. Or reinforced it, anyway. Her parents had been right – losing control led to nothing but problems. Mistakes. Heartbreak.
Falling in love, opening yourself completely to another person, complicated everything. Better to be alone. It might be lonely, but you wouldn't get hurt.
As long as she didn't fall for Quinn, she’d be safe.
"Your call." He pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it to her. "That's got my personal cell number on it. You can call anytime. I'm not looking for anything serious, either, Tessa. I like you. I'm attracted to you. But I'm not interested in the white picket fence and the two point three children."
She should be glad to hear he only wanted light. And she was, because that’s what she wanted, too. But somewhere deep inside, regret rippled through her.
"I guess you need to get back to your place."
"You probably want some time alone. So how about if I get that underwear and take it with me?"
"That would be great." She reached beneath the sink and pulled out a Trader Joe's shopping bag. "Use this. I wouldn't want anyone to see you carrying around a bagful of women's underwear."
"Yeah. Might start some rumors at the precinct."
Five minutes later, Quinn Donovan was gone. She wanted to hurry into her bedroom to look for him in his bedroom, but she refused to do it. That would be creepy. And she needed time to think. Time when she wasn't looking at him.
***
Quinn dropped the bag of lingerie onto the floor of his unmarked car and headed into his apartment. He was exhausted. He'd hardly slept at all last night. All he could think about was Tessa, asleep in the next room. On that bed. The bed where he'd watched her. He wanted to be in that bed with her.
Listening to her sheets rustling as she turned over in the next room, hearing the tiny murmurs she made in her sleep, had kept him hard as stone all night. The only way he'd get any sleep, being so close to Tessa, was if he was a whole lot closer. Like wrapped around her. Skin to skin, holding onto her soft curves, breathing in her scent.
That was crazy. And a little scary. He'd met her less than twelve hours earlier. And now he couldn't stop thinking about her.
Yeah, he'd fallen into instant lust before. He was a guy. But his connection to Tessa went deeper than lust. He wanted to get to know her. To find out what she liked to eat, what kind of music she listened to, her favorite movies.
He wanted to know why she didn't date police officers.
At least she'd said she wanted to try. He could work with that. If an asshole police officer had hurt her, he'd prove they weren't all like that.
He thanked God he'd been the one to answer the 911 call. He hated that she'd had to suffer through the fear and violation of a break-in. Wished he'd met her any other way. But he'd been first on the scene, and he was glad he'd been so close when she called 911
. Because, ever since that night a couple of weeks ago, he'd been trying to figure out how to meet his sexy neighbor in the next building.
He'd go into the precinct early for his shift and make sure Tessa's case got transferred to Robbery. Then he wouldn't be breaking any regulations if he asked her out again.
Five hours later, he was making himself some coffee, getting ready to head in for his shift, when his phone rang. He didn't recognize the number, but it had a Chicago area code, so he answered.
"Donovan."
There was a tiny pause on the line. "Quinn?" Tessa's voice. Shaking a little.
"Tessa. What's wrong?"
"I think...could you come over here?" she said. "There's something you need to hear."
"Be right there."
Chapter 6
Quinn buttoned his shirt as he ran down the stairs. His shoelaces slapped against the wood steps and he tucked his shirt in as he shoved though the outer door onto the street. Dark clouds gathered over the city and humidity hung heavy and suffocating in the air. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows and reached for the buzzer with the name 'Porter' beside it.
She'd called him instead of 911. He shouldn't be so pleased. He was next door. He'd get there quickly. That was why she'd called. Not because she wanted to see him. Not because she trusted him.
She rang him in immediately, and he raced up the stairs. She was standing in the hall, the lock on her front door in pieces on the floor at her feet, and she was talking to an older woman. Her across-the-hall neighbor, he assumed, since she was standing in front of her open apartment door.
"Tessa?"
She turned to him, and without thinking, he grabbed her and held her tightly. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on, pressing her face into his neck.
"Thanks for coming so quickly," she murmured into his skin. "Mrs. Kowalski has something she needs to tell you."
He eased away from Tessa reluctantly, but kept an arm around her waist. The older woman had short grey hair and a kind face. Her eyes twinkled as she watched him and Tessa.
"I should have known Tessa would have a hot boyfriend. That guy who was here yesterday just wasn't her type."
Tessa slid away from him as flush crept up her neck and stained her cheeks. "Mrs. Kowalski, this is Detective Donovan. I met him last night when I called 911. He was very..." She cleared her throat. "Very helpful. And understanding."
"I can see that," the woman said with a grin.
Tessa slipped away from his arm. "Qui...Detective Donovan, Mrs. Kowalski saw a man at my door yesterday."
"She did?" Snapping into detective mode, Quinn focused on the other woman. "Can you describe him, ma'am?"
"A little," she said, her smile gone. "I never saw his face. He was shorter than you. Maybe about the same height as Tessa. He had on jeans and sneakers and one of those hooded sweatshirts. Which was a little odd, now that I think of it, because it was hotter than hell yesterday."
"What color was the sweatshirt?"
"Dark. Brown, I think."
"Did you see his hair? Notice if it was dark or light? Long or short?"
"He had the hood up," she said. Sorry."
"How about his build? Skinny? Obese? Somewhere in between?"
"He wasn't skinny," she said immediately. "He looked kind of bulky. Definitely not obese, but like he was muscular. Or had a little extra fat. The sweatshirt was baggy," she said. "Sorry."
"No, you're doing great. This is a lot more than we had." Quinn tapped his pocket, looking for his notebook.
"You need some paper?" Tessa asked.
"You read my mind. Thanks," Quinn answered.
While Tessa was in her apartment, he asked Mrs. Kowalski, "What time was he here?"
"Right after Tessa left for work," she said, frowning. "Or at least the time she usually leaves for work. Not that I'm a nosy neighbor. But we're women living alone and we pay attention to each other. I know what time she comes and goes to work, and she knows my habits."
Tessa returned and handed him a pad of paper. He took a moment to scribble down what Mrs. Kowalski had said, then reached for Tessa's hand and squeezed it. "Thanks," he murmured.
She squeezed back, then let him go. "You're welcome."
He was here on business. Police business. But that tiny squeeze, the huskiness of Tessa's voice, sent heat flashing through his veins. He stared down at the words he'd written, unable to read anything.
He finally forced himself to look at Tessa's neighbor again. "Did he say anything to you?"
"I asked him if he was looking for Tessa. He said he was her boyfriend and he'd left something in her apartment. He seemed to have a key, so I didn't think anything of it. Although I did think it was odd that Tessa hadn't said anything about him." Her face clouded. "I should have called the police. Who doesn't look at a person he's talking to? I should have known he was up to no good."
Tessa took the woman's hand. "You couldn't know that, Mrs. K," she said. "This wasn't your fault. I'm just glad you told me about what happened. And I know Detective Donovan is, too."
"Absolutely. This is valuable information. And if you see him again, I know you'll call the police this time."
"I'll keep my eyes open for him," Tessa's neighbor promised. "And when I'm home, I'll listen for anyone at your door, Tess."
"If he's at Tessa's door, don't confront him," Quinn said. "Call the police."
"Yes, I will." Mrs. Kowalski's gaze shifted between him and Tessa, and she smiled. "I was just on my way out. Nice to meet you, Detective. Tessa, take care."
The older woman ran down the stairs, and they heard the slam of the lobby door closing.
Tessa was standing close to him, so close he could smell the citrusy scent of her shampoo and feel her body heat. She didn't move away, and neither did he. He turned his head to look at her and found her staring at him. Her eyes were wide and dark, her face flushed.
He brushed a finger down her cheek. "You look warm."
"Not a lot of air in the hall," she said, her voice a little breathless. "It's really hot."
He'd noticed. But he didn't think the heat had anything to do with the lack of air.
Neither of them looked away. His fingers twitched to touch her, to draw her even closer. He swallowed. Reached for her hand, and found she was holding a screwdriver.
It reminded him of what had happened the night before. Of why she had to change her locks. That he hadn't turned her case over to Robbery yet.
"So." He took a step back so he couldn't feel her heat or inhale her scent. "How are you doing with that new lock? Need an extra pair of hands?"
"I'm, ah..." She gestured at the pieces of metal and screws on the floor without looking down. "I forgot which step I was on," she said. Her eyes held his for a moment too long, then she swallowed. "After Mrs. K told me about the guy at my door."
After you showed up. He hoped that was what her blush meant. "Let me help. I'm pretty good with my hands."
She rolled her eyes, and that broke the spell. "Really, Detective? That's what you're going with? 'You're good with your hands'?"
"Not bragging if it's true," he said with a grin. He knelt on the floor to look at the directions and the pieces of the lock she'd laid out neatly. "Not bad with tools, either."
A tiny bubble of laughter escaped from her mouth, and she squatted next to him. "Good to know, Detective. If I ever need a man with good hands. Who can work with tools."
When he glanced at her, she was grinning and her eyes had lost the shadows from the night before. Thank God he'd been able to distract her from the reality of why she was changing her locks. "So why don't you let me help with this? I know you've probably got to get ready for work pretty soon."
"Don't you need to be at work, too?" She glanced up at him. She was in his personal space again. Or he was in hers. Neither of them moved.
"Yeah, but I have a little time before I have to leave." He picked up the lock directions and sat against the wall. "What do you ne
ed?"
She swallowed, then rose to study the hole in the door where the lock used to be. "I was just ready to install it. If you could hold it for me, that would be great."
Fifteen minutes later, she tested the key in the lock, smiled when it worked. She unlocked it, opened the door and stepped inside, gesturing for him to follow her. "Thanks for your help," she said over her shoulder as she pulled a key ring from her purse. She put one new key on the ring, then opened her kitchen pantry and hung the spare from a key rack.
"Do you have any idea where the guy got a key to your place?" he asked.
She shook her head, her fingers skimming over another key on the rack before taking it off. "This is the spare for the old lock." She turned to face him. "I never gave copies to anyone but Cal and Mrs. K. Cal's out of town, and Mrs. K still has hers. She checked."
"Does your landlord have one?"
"Yeah, it's in the lease that I have to give her a key."
"Does your neighbor's description sound like any of the maintenance guys? Any of the office guys? Anyone you've seen around the building?"
She shrugged. "It's hard to tell. Her description could fit a lot of men."
"Yeah, I know." He shoved a hand through his hair. "I'm going to turn your case over to Robbery today. They'll talk to the people who have access to your key. We'll find this guy, Tessa."
She curled her fingers around the old key, then tossed it in the garbage. "I'm not going to hold my breath," she said quietly. "There are a lot more serious crimes than some guy breaking into my apartment and jerking off in my underwear."
"Yeah, there are." He wasn't going to lie to her. "But guys who fit this profile can escalate to more serious stuff. We're not going to forget about this."
She stared at him for a long moment, and he let her see the truth in his eyes. He wouldn't let anyone slack off. If he had to be an asshole and push, he'd do it. He wasn't letting this go.
She must have recognized that, because she sighed and her shoulders relaxed. "Thank you, Quinn. I appreciate that. I'm not...it's going to be creepy here for a while."
"I know. But if you think anything's wrong, all you have to do is holler." He nodded toward her bedroom and the window facing his bedroom. "I'll keep my windows open."
Watch Me (The Donovan Family Book 2) Page 5
