The Beginning
“He could feel her pelvic bones, the thinness of her arms through her nightgown. He had the urge to phone out for Chinese food—lots of sugar in Szechwan beef and pot stickers—but he decided he’d rather be doing what he was doing. Besides, he’d already stuffed her to the gills with spaghetti, lots of Parmesan on top, and hot garlic bread that wasn’t nearly as good as Martha’s.“James?”“You’re supposed to be asleep.”“Mr. Brammer was very nice to me. He told me a thing or two about you, too.”Quinlan... stared at her. “You’re kidding. Brammer is the biggest closedmouth in the FBI. If they gave awards for it, he’d win hands down.”“Not tonight. Maybe he was tired or excited, like you were. Yep, he told me lots of things.”This was interesting. Quinlan cleared his throat against her hair. “Um, was all he talked about—it was all the case and the players?”“Most of it, but not all.” He felt her fingers playing over his bicep. He instantly flexed the muscle.MoreLess
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