Read Knock Me Off My Feet for Free Online

his chair. "And the time line is handy, too."
    "Wonderful."
    This was pure humiliation. Audie was glad she'd at least had the presence of mind to suggest they meet at the police station instead of a restaurant. With all the noise and motion and phones and talking in this big open room, there was little chance for personal remarks, let alone personal contact. She felt safer this way, if not less embarrassed.
    As Quinn busied himself with her list of ex-lovers, she let her eyes wander over his orderly desk. A computer and keyboard sat on a small side table directly behind him. A five-tiered metal in-box held stacks of files, neatly labeled by category. A black plastic desk organizer held pens in one tube, precisely sharpened pencils—points up—in another, and little compartments of paper clips, pushpins, and rubber bands. A pair of scissors labeled at the handle with the words "Quinn—Paws Off" was tucked in with the pencils.
    An ornate silver picture frame sat to the back center of his desk, but Audie couldn't make out the image in the glare of the office lights. She turned a little in her seat and leaned forward, as if to stretch. She almost had it…
    "My family," Quinn said, grabbing the frame and handing it to her. He scooted his chair closer and reached over the top, pointing, so near her now.
    "This is my da, Jamie Quinn, retired from the force in 1996, a beat officer for thirty-two years in District Twenty-two, on the South Side. This is my mother, Trish—she died not long after this picture was taken."
    "I'm sorry."
    "Me, too."
    Quinn pointed to the faces, all handsome and flushed, pressed together in a casual tangle of arms and shoulders and hugs. It was an outdoor setting—maybe a summer barbecue. They had the openmouthed smiles of laughter, and she could almost hear it. It must have been a raucous, rolling sound. They all looked like accomplished laughers, these Quinns.
    About as different from her family as you could get, she thought.
    "This is my baby brother Michael, an assistant state's attorney, and his wife, Sheila, and their two kids, Kiley—she's two here—and Little Pat. He was about four at the time."
    Audie nodded, noticing the pinkie ring again. It was one of those Irish rings in the shape of a pair of hands holding a heart—it had some strange name she couldn't remember.
    "The kids are six and four now." A huge smile lingered on Quinn's face before he resumed the tour. "And this is my brother Patrick. He's a parish priest at St. Aloisius on the Southwest Side, but he's a vicious liar, so don't ever believe a thing he says. And that's me. You know me."
    It was the longest string of words she'd heard Stacey Quinn put together, and she noticed his voice had a charming cadence to it, somewhat scratchy but musical nonetheless. She looked up and caught his eye, their heads still quite close together.
    "So your family's Irish?"
    Audie didn't think it was the world's stupidest question, but the look Quinn gave her clearly indicated it had been.
    "I see you picked up on that right away."
    Should she just get up and walk out, or should she laugh at herself? She was still deciding when his green-and-gold eyes crinkled in amusement, and she heard her laugh escape without her permission. "Maybe I should be a detective, too."
    He raised an eyebrow. "Hey, if Stanny-O can do it, I see no reason why you couldn't."
    She giggled. "It was your ring, Quinn."
    Quinn looked puzzled for a second before he glanced down at his left hand. "My mom's wedding band. It's a claddagh— you know those?"
    "I've seen them before." She smiled at him, noting the sweet, shy expression in his eyes. Then she abruptly stopped smiling, because the sweetness left and it was replaced by something hungry.
    Then she recalled the ridiculous words he'd written on his card, sat up straight, and pulled away.
    Quinn put the frame back in its place and returned to her list. "This is a regular who's-who of Chicago 's most eligible bachelors,