Thinking about those possibilities had her stomach fluttering and her pulse skipping as she approached the end of the hall. She couldn’t remember now what it was she’d been expecting from Quinn, but it hadn’t come close to what he’d done to her in a few moments and a few touches. He’d had her breathless, he’d had her boneless, and in a short while he’d have had her begging him to drag her down onto her office floor and…

She stopped and gave her floaty kimono-style top a neatening tug. And then she juggled her briefcase, a sack of groceries and a Bern’s Bakery box onto one arm, lifted her free hand and knocked on the door of apartment number 305. A few moments later, a gangly girl with Quinn’s dark hair and solemn eyes opened the door.

“Hi, there. You must be Rosie.” Tess shifted her load while waiting for a response, but Quinn’s daughter had obviously inherited her father’s annoying habit of silent, motionless staring.

“Rosie.” Quinn’s voice growled from somewhere deep inside the apartment. “Let her in.”

The kid turned and disappeared, leaving Tess to catch the door with her foot before it closed in her face. Tempted to retreat, she sucked in a deep breath, bared her teeth in a delightfully social smile and elbowed her way into the war zone.

Rosie had curled in a defensive pose on an ugly brown sofa, the television remote clutched in one fist. Tess recognized the hostile slouch; she’d spent much of her own childhood in the same position. “Always a good plan to be nice to the lady with the food, kid,” she said.

“We’ve already got food. And I’m not a kid.” Rosie aimed the remote at the television. Rock music blared through the room.

Tess found it easy to ignore the change in volume, since she’d been momentarily stunned by the decor. It was like being buried alive, surrounded by unrelenting earth tones, smothered by the scents of dust and decay. She caught a glimpse of peeling olive-green paper in what she guessed was a bathroom and shuddered.

The noise crept up another level. “When you’re standing on this side of thirty,” Tess said, raising her voice over the mayhem on the screen, “anyone younger looks like a kid.”

“Maybe you need glasses.”

And maybe you need an attitude adjustment.

Quinn entered the room, confiscated the remote and switched off the TV. “Hi,” he said as he pocketed Rosie’s weapon. “Let me take some of that.”

“Thanks.” Tess passed him the grocery bag. She lowered her briefcase to the floor near the table and followed him into a kitchen that had seen better days-and all of them in the fifties. At least the brown had disappeared. Too bad it had been replaced by aqua and pink.

“I kept it simple,” she said. “Tri-tips, salad, baguettes. And for dessert, a cream cake from Bern’s.”

“Sounds great.” He set the bag on the flamingo-colored counter, pulled out a plastic packet filled with the marinating steaks and then stepped back, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I-I don’t have much in the way of cooking tools.”

Flustered was a new and interesting look on him. A very appealing look. Enjoying his discomfort far more than she should, she crossed her arms and slouched with a shoulder against one wall. “Why am I not surprised?”

“I don’t eat red meat.” Rosie stood guard in the wide doorway. “And I don’t like salad.”

Quinn frowned. “You love salad. And since when don’t you eat red meat?”

“Since I learned about the harmful effects of cattle on the environment. Not to mention how fattening beef can be,” the kid added with an innocent glance at Tess. “I’ve heard it can give you cellulite. Some people need to worry about that more than others.”

Tess gave her a wide smile. “Good thing I’m not one of them. I have an amazing metabolism. Not to mention an endless supply of patience.”

“You’re going to need it,” Quinn muttered as his daughter sauntered back to the front room. “Sorry about that.”

“No need to apologize. I expected a reaction of that sort.” Which was why she shouldn’t let the kid get to her, Tess reminded herself as she pulled her salad ingredients from the bag. Not her daughter, not her problem. Thank God. “I’m a potentially threatening female trespassing on her territory.”

“Could the fight for female dominance be fatal to the men in the immediate vicinity?”

“Only if they don’t do the dishes.” She opened a cabinet, searching for a large bowl and a shallow baking dish. “If I were you, I’d be more worried about the crap they’re teaching kids in school these days.”

She paused in her hunt and glanced over her shoulder at Quinn. He was studying her with his usual stony intensity, but she thought she detected a trace of something different-something softer-in his features tonight. Something twining around her heart and trapping too much inside.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him, because she didn’t want to have to answer that question herself.

“I thought it would be strange to see you here. In my place.” He pulled the remote from his pocket and set it on the counter before taking one hesitant step closer. “To be with you here, like this.”

“You did?” Heart pounding, she busied herself by turning the oven on. “Is it strange?”

He shook his head.

She carefully arranged the meat in the baking dish she’d found, excruciatingly aware of his every move, inexplicably nervous with the warmth of his gaze and the turn the conversation had taken. “If you thought this would be so strange, why did you invite me?”

“I don’t know.”

Beyond the front room, a door slammed.

“Wrong answer,” Tess said.

Wrong situation. Wrong idea, coming here. Wrong man, for her. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

But still, she wanted him. With every shaky breath she dragged in past ribs that squeezed so tightly she was sure her lungs would bruise.

Her social smile stiffened at the corners, taking on a determined edge. “You’re going to have to come up with a better reason before dessert.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

AN HOUR LATER, Quinn stared at the delicious but half-eaten food on his plate. He felt as though he were a bone being tugged and gnawed at both ends by a couple of nasty-tempered terriers. Rosie had been surprisingly talkative throughout the meal, politely asking Tess all sorts of embarrassing questions. And Tess hadn’t batted an eye as she provided equally embarrassing answers.

“That’s enough,” he said after Rosie’s latest poke at their guest. “Tess and I have work to do, and you have homework to finish up.”

“Already done.” Rosie set her napkin by her plate and stood. “I’ll do the dishes.”

“Thank you,” said Tess. She lifted her plate, but Rosie ignored it, passing her by to take Quinn’s things from the table before heading to the kitchen.

“Don’t say it,” Tess said before he could apologize again.

He stewed in another awkward silence as Rosie returned to collect the serving pieces and made another trip to the kitchen, leaving Tess’s place setting behind.

Tess nonchalantly stacked her things and shoved them to one end of the table. “Is it okay if we work right here?”

“This is the best spot.” He brushed a few bread crumbs aside while she reached for her briefcase.

Rosie strolled through the room and sprawled on the sofa. A moment later, the television screen exploded with color and noise. Damn. He’d forgotten about the remote.

He glared at his daughter. “I thought you were doing the dishes.”

“I’m letting them soak.”

“Turn down the volume. Please,” he added in a tone one inch shy of a snarl.

Tess rose from her seat and carried her water glass to the kitchen.

“Maybe I should go to my room.” Rosie switched off the TV and stood, sparing him a wounded look as she straightened the cushions. “I wouldn’t want to disturb you.”

“Maybe Rosie could sit and read while we work.” Tess flashed one of her dangerously sweet smiles in Rosie’s direction as she carried the bakery box and a short stack of dessert plates out to the table. “Reading is so important to a child’s development.”