A Small-Town Homecoming (20 page)

“Brought in for questioning. Wade couldn’t keep his story straight for long, especially when parts of it never made much sense. He’s a weak man. A coward. He’d need someone like Cobb to spur him on while giving him the idea for a cover.

“And Cobb had plenty of motive, not to mention a public record of fighting Geneva over the environmental angle. So.” Tess dragged in a deep breath and exhaled a long sigh. “I guess this is the beginning of the end.”

The end.
Quinn’s nerves hit hard, ahead of schedule. “So to speak.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the space between them. Neither of them moved. Eventually, Tess picked up the coffee he’d brought her and sipped.

“Sweet enough?” he asked.

“Perfect. Thanks.” She sipped again, staring at him over the rim of the cup. “Is there something else you want to talk about?” she asked.

“Rosie.”

“How’s she doing?”

“Fine.” He opened his mouth to say something else, one of the points he’d planned on making, but his spit had dried up along with his train of thought. “You like her, right?”

“She’s okay, for a kid. A kid with a smart mouth and a lot of problems.”

They’re not my problems. I’m not the one who has to live with her.

“She’s…” He cleared his throat. “She thinks…”

The alarms went off, and Tess swore as she circled her desk and grabbed her purse. “Damn meter. I swear, I—”

“Here.” Quinn pulled a jar from his pocket and set it on her desk. “I brought you this, too.”

Tess froze, her gaze locked on the fat condiment jar tied with a crumpled red bow and filled with quarters.

“Rosie added the ribbon,” Quinn said to fill another strained silence. “She said it would look better that way. Sorry I smashed it.” He poked at one of the loops, trying to make it right. “It looked a lot better when I left home.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Tess’s voice sounded funny, and Quinn glanced at her beautiful face. Suddenly it didn’t look quite so attractive. It went all pale and sort of folded up like a slow-motion implosion, and her nose was turning an ugly shade of red. And then her eyes brimmed with tears, and one of them plopped on her shiny black jacket and made an ugly splotch. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Men,” she said as she snatched a tissue from her fancy tissue holder. “What am I going to do with you?”

“You could marry me.”

She blew her nose with a snorty, wet, honking sound.

“Is that a yes?” he asked.

“No!”

“Oh. Well.” He glanced at the jar of quarters and gestured awkwardly toward them. “You can keep the change.”

“Quinn.”

“Yeah?”

She sucked in a deep breath and blew it out again. “You’re supposed to tell me you love me.”

“Telling me how to do my job again?”

“Someone has to.”

“All right.” He took her hand, raised it to his lips and brushed them over her knuckles. “I love you, Tess.”

“A kiss would be nice.”

He lifted her hand higher. “I just gave you one.”

“On the lips, Quinn.”

He stared at her red nose and puffy eyes and closed his own eyes, tightly, before pressing a short, sweet kiss to her mouth. “There.”

“‘There.’ Such a way with words.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t hear any coming from you.”

She moved in close, snugging her curvy front up against his and wrapping her arms around his neck and tangling her fingers in his hair, just the way he liked it. “I love you, J. J. Quinn. With all my heart. And I love your little girl, too. And yes, I’ll marry you. And I’ll—
Damn.
”

She shoved him aside and dashed out her door, yelling at the officer tucking a parking ticket beneath her car’s wiper blade.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and strolled to the window—his heart as light as his step—to watch Tess rip the ticket from her car, crumple it in her manicured hands, toss it to the pavement and grind it beneath her spiky high heel.

A guy had to love a woman like that.

ISBN: 978-1-4268-3484-4

A SMALL-TOWN HOMECOMING

Copyright © 2009 by Teresa A. McLaughlin.

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