Sex, Lies, and Online Dating (21 page)

“Whatever you want. But I would recommend that you destroy them and forget that you ever saw them.”

“Isn’t that destroying evidence?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Technically, yes.”

She looked down at the cassettes. “Are you certain these are the right tapes?”

“They were labeled, so I’m pretty sure.”

“But you’re not certain.”

“You want to see them?”

Not really, but she wanted to make sure she had the right tapes in her possession. She handed them back. “Yes.”

He pointed to the couch. “Sit tight.” He walked out of the room, and when he returned, he had a video camera. He hooked it up to the television and popped one of the cassettes inside.

In the past, he’d bent and stretched the rules, but he’d never completely broken them. He loved his job, and if anyone had ever told him that he’d steal evidence, he would have told them they were nuts. If they’d told him he’d steal it for a woman, he would have told them they were
fucking nuts
. But then he’d messed up and told Lucy about the tapes, and she’d looked at him as if he’d just killed her cat. One minute she’d been looking at him as if she’d wanted to jump on him and continue his workout, and the next, like he’d stabbed her in the heart. He would have done anything to have her look at him as she had the minute before.

When he’d left, he’d taken the latest Breathless letter with him and dropped it off in the crime lab for the technicians to look over in the morning. He’d planned to take it in that day anyway. What he hadn’t planned until he’d looked in her eyes filling up with tears was a little petty theft, but by the time he’d walked out his front door, he’d known what he would do.

He was a dumb ass. He’d put his job on the line for a woman who would never forget that he’d undressed her in front of a hidden camera. He’d risked getting terminated for a woman who sat next to him as stiff as a poker. A woman who’d made him want something he’d given up on. Something he’d convinced himself he was better off not having in his life.

Quinn watched their images on the television screen as they ate dinner together, talking as if they were just two people getting to know each other. He didn’t recall the meal so much as he did her sweater and leather skirt. Then she brought out the chocolate cake, and he recalled how he’d felt watching her put the fork into her mouth.

“Sometimes, chocolate is better than sex,” she spoke from the television.

“Honey, nothing is better than sex,” he’d said.

She set the fork on her plate and pushed it aside. “I guess that would depend on your basis of comparison.”

He rose and said in a voice so sexually charged that he hardly recognized it, “Come here.” From across the room, Quinn watched the screen, where he wrapped his arms around Lucy. “Let’s give you something good to compare.” Then he kissed her and it was as hot as he remembered. Sexual energy rolled in waves from the television screen, scorching a path across the living room, and Quinn got a little hot watching it. He slid his gaze to Lucy to see if she felt it too. Her brows were lowered, and she appeared more pissed off than excited.

“I need to use your restroom,” she said from the tape, and Quinn returned his attention to the screen. She moved out of frame and Quinn followed. The motion-sensitive tape shut off, and Quinn rose from the couch to place the second cassette into the video camera. He pushed Play and returned to his seat.

The film started to roll with him walking into the living room, reaching for her purse, and dumping the contents on the couch.

“You went through my purse?”

He slid his gaze to hers. “Yeah, and you carry a lot of crap around with you.”

She folded her arms beneath her breasts. “That’s how you knew about my pepper spray.”

On the screen, Quinn shoved everything back into the purse, then moved to stand in the middle of the living room. He looked up when she entered the room, his dark gaze following her. Even on the black-and-white film, he could see the desire in his eyes. He’d thought she was a killer, and he’d wanted her anyway.

On the film, she looked into the camera and told him she didn’t think they should have sex. From behind her, his gaze was directed at the camera too, although he knew they’d been looking into the mirror above the fireplace.

He watched his hands move down her arms and come to rest on her waist. “You tell me when to stop,” he said and pulled her back against his chest. “Are you uncomfortable when I kiss you here?” He kissed the side of her throat and she shook her head.

“That’s good. I like kissing you right here. Where your skin’s soft and your hair smells like flowers and looks like sunshine.” He shoved his fingers inside the waistband of her skirt and slid them to her sides. She tilted her head to the right, and he sucked the side of her neck. He slid his fingers up beneath the edge of her sweater to her breasts. His eyelids were heavy, and there was no mistaking the need reflected on tape.

At the moment, Quinn didn’t know what he felt most, embarrassed or turned on. He was embarrassed by the things he was saying, but at the same time, watching his hands move upward and his thumbs brush her hard nipples was the most erotic thing he’d ever done. A hundred times more erotic than watching a porno flick. On the screen, her breath caught and her lids drifted shut as his hands cupped her breasts.

“Your nipples are hard,” he whispered into the side of her throat. “Like a woman who wants to make love.”

She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. As they kissed, he slid the fingers of one hand beneath the waistband of her skirt and pressed his palm into her back. His other hand moved up her spine, then he gathered her sweater in his hands and pulled it over her head.

“I love a woman in lace,” he whispered and lifted a hand to touch the lace edge of her bra with the tips of his fingers. “You’re so beautiful, you make me forget.”

“Forget what?”

“That I should take it slow. That I don’t want to blow it by rushing things,” he answered and pressed his palms into her breasts. “But it’s been so long.” He pushed her breasts together as he bent forward and kissed her deep cleavage. “Why did you have to look like this? This would be easier if you weren’t so beautiful. If I didn’t want you so much that I can’t think of anything but getting you naked.”

He kissed her and ran his hands down her bottom to the backs of her thighs. Then he lifted her and wrapped her legs around his waist. He walked with her from the frame, and the tape kept rolling, fixed on the empty room. The sound portion continued, filling the room with the sounds of soft moans, and Quinn was stunned by the clarity. “Damn. I didn’t think the audio could pick up what was going on in the hall,” he said.

Lucy didn’t comment. Her hands fell to her lap as they listened to Quinn’s voice fill the tape. “Nothing here but Lucy,” he heard himself say. “You want me, and I want to fuck you until you can’t walk for a week. Until you can’t move. Can’t think. Can’t do anything but moan. Do you want that, Lucy?”

Okay, that was a little embarrassing. On the tape came a breathy, “Yes.”

More silence, and then his groaned, “I’ll help you, Lucy.” What she said was unintelligible, and then it was Quinn again. “Yes, touch me there, just like that. You won’t be alone. Oh, God that feels good. I’ll get you help. I’ll get you all the help you need.”

Jesus H., that was more than a
little
embarrassing, and he could feel his neck start to burn. He didn’t remember saying he’d get her help. He’d been so into her, so wrapped up in the moment, that he’d thought he could fix her. As if overcoming murderous impulses were curable.

On the tape, the ringing of the telephone mixed with the telling sounds coming from the hall—his deep groan and the breathy moan she made deep in her throat.

Sitting there listening, Quinn got so hard that he almost came too. He turned his head to look at Lucy, but her gaze was directed at the televison.

“I’m sorry,” she said on the tape. “I didn’t mean to do that yet.”

“You’ll make up for it.” The telephone stopped, only to start ringing again. “Shit! I’ll be right back.” Quinn’s image moved into the living room. He picked up the cordless phone next to the couch and cradled it between his shoulder and the side of his face. “Yeah?”

“Because I was busy,” he barked into the phone as he buttoned his pants. “What?” His hands stilled a second before he grasped the receiver. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He turned toward the hall. “Tell me you’re kidding me.”

After a few moments, Quinn could be seen hustling Lucy out of the house, then the tape shut off and the television filled with static.

A furrow between her brows, Lucy turned to look at him. “Why did you do that, Quinn?”

He thought he’d made her understand. Apparently not. “There were reasons to believe that you were Breathless. And we were—”

“No,” she interrupted him. “Why did you tell me you’d get me help?”

He looked away.

“There’s no help for a serial killer,” she said.

“Yeah. I know.” He could feel his ears turning hot.

“Did you offer to help the other suspects you were dating?”

“No. Things never got that far with the others.” He looked back into her face. “I didn’t touch them the way I touched you.” What did it matter now? Probably she wanted to humiliate the hell out of him before she kicked him the rest of the way to the curb. Then she’d turn the tapes over to Sergeant Mitchell and get him fired.

Instead, she did something that baffled the hell out of him. She climbed into his lap and sat on his erection. With her legs on the outsides of his thighs, she placed her hands on the sides of his face and said, “I think you liked me even when you thought I was going to kill you.”

He looked up into her blue eyes. “A little.”

She smiled and slid her hands down his chest. “I thought you weren’t going to lie to me anymore.”

He grasped her legs and pressed his fingers into her. He knew what she wanted to hear, but he couldn’t lie to her. Not even with her crotch warming his fly. “I do like you, Lucy. I like you a lot. When I’m not with you, I think about being with you. I like having you around. We’re incredible together. The sex is hot, and you make me want things I haven’t thought possible.”

“What things?”

“You.” He looked into her eyes and confessed, “A life outside of my work.”

Her hands slid up to the side of his neck. “Why can’t you have those things? Last night you said I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“I shouldn’t have said that. And I can’t believe I’m saying this now, but you’re not living here with me because you have a lot of choices. I’ve seen relationships develop out of stressful situations and tragedies, and sometimes they don’t last past the trial.”

She tugged his shirt from his jeans and pushed it up his chest. “If we’d met under normal circumstances, it still might not last.”

He grabbed her hands before it went too far and he knew he couldn’t stop. “True, but this situation is far from normal.”

“Are you trying to be honorable again?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t.” She pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor. “I think I like you best when you’re not quite so virtuous. When you’ve lost control. When you’re willing to risk it all for a woman you think might kill you. I like it when you can’t help being bad.”

He chuckled and pushed her skirt up her thighs. She liked him best when he wasn’t trying to do the right thing?

Hell, being the good guy was hard. Bad came easy.

He shoved the tails of his blue dress shirt into his gray trousers and glanced at Lucy through the mirror. Her attention was directed on his hands as he zipped his pants. “I need to talk to you about something,” he said, beginning the conversation he’d been dreading since he’d read the most recent Breathless letter Saturday.

She looked up, and her eyes met his in the mirror. “What?”

“Once Sergeant Mitchell and the other detectives read the latest letter, they’re going to want to use you to draw the suspect out. I know we talked about this last week, and if you were anyone else, I’d agree with them. I’d do my best to talk you into staging something with the media or maybe a book signing. But you’re not just anyone. Not to me, and I want you to know you don’t have to do anything.”

She unfolded her legs, and Quinn’s gaze followed the progress of his T-shirt sliding up her bare thighs and behind as she scooted to the edge of the bed. She set the coffee on his dresser and came to stand in front of him. “I’ve actually given this some thought,” she said as she reached for the front of his shirt and buttoned it. “I want to do whatever it takes to get my life back as soon as possible.” She glanced up at him, then returned her gaze to the buttons. The top of her head was just beneath his chin. “As much as I like it here with you, I want my normal life back. I want you and me to be together like normal people.”

“How normal?” he asked the top of her head.

“You ask me out not because it’s your job but because you want to be with me. When you pick me up, I keep you waiting while I try on shoes like it’s a real date.” She looked up at him. “Stuff people do when they first start to go out together. We’ve kind of skipped all that. I know it sounds old-fashioned, especially considering how fast I ended up in bed with you, but I guess I want you to, you know, woo me.”

He chuckled. “I recall wooing the hell out of you last night.” She scowled as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against his chest. “Okay.” He pressed his lips to the top of her hairline. “When this is all over, I’ll come over and pick you up and you can keep me waiting while you change your shoes a million times. You can even torture me by trying on clothes and asking my opinion, although we both know my opinion really doesn’t matter. And even though I don’t need to lie to get you into bed, I’ll even tell you you’re a good driver.”

She tried not to smile. “And you’ll be nice to Snookie?”

Yesterday when they’d gone to Lucy’s house to feed her cat, Quinn had stepped on the damn cat’s tail. It had been an honest-to-God accident, but he wasn’t quite sure Lucy believed him. “I swear that was an accident,” he reminded her. “I didn’t see him.”

“How could you not see a twenty-pound cat sitting in the middle of the floor?”

Because he’d been watching Lucy’s breasts jiggle a bit as she’d poured cat food into a dish. He pulled her tighter against his chest. “In the future, I’ll watch where I’m walking.”

She laid her head against his shoulder and said, “I want my life back, Quinn. I want to be normal. If that means I have to do a news conference or book signing, let’s do it as soon as possible.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded and took a step back. “Yes. I’m not afraid as much as I’m pissed off.” Her eyes got all Linda Blair squinty and shone with that unholy gleam he hadn’t seen since the day he’d sat in her car and told her Millie was his dog. He was glad to see it again. “She’s going down.”

He was glad that look wasn’t directed at him.