Overload

“If either of us smoked,” he came back dryly, “we wouldn’t have the breath to climb the stairs.”

She chuckled, then saved her energy to concentrate on the steps. Climbing five floors wasn’t beyond her capabilities, but it was still an effort. She was breathing hard by the time they reached the fifth floor, and the darkness was becoming unnerving. Quinlan stepped forward and opened the door, letting in a sweet spill of light.

They parted ways at their respective offices, Quinlan disappearing into his while Elizabeth unlocked hers. The late-afternoon light was still spilling brightly through the windows, reminding her that, in actuality, very little time had passed since the elevator had lurched to a halt. A disbelieving glance at her wristwatch said that it had been less than half an hour.

The flashlight was the most important item, and she searched the file cabinets until she found it. Praying that the batteries weren’t dead, she thumbed the switch and was rewarded by a beam of light. She switched it off and placed it on Chickie’s desk. She and Chickie made their own coffee, as it was both more convenient and better tasting than the vending machine kind, so she got their cups and put them on the desk next to the flashlight. Drinking from them would be easier than splashing water into their mouths with their hands, and she knew Chickie wouldn’t mind if Quinlan used her cup. Quite the contrary.

Knowing that her secretary had an active sweet tooth, Elizabeth began rifling the desk drawers, smiling in appreciation when she found a six-pack of chocolate bars with only one missing, a new pack of fig bars, chewing gum, a honey bun and a huge blueberry muffin. Granted, it was junk food, but at least they wouldn’t be hungry. Finally she got two of the soft pillows that decorated the chairs in her office, thinking that they would be more comfortable for sleeping than the upholstered cushions downstairs.

Quinlan opened the door, and she glanced at him. He had removed his suit jacket and was carrying a small black leather bag. He looked at her loot and laughed softly. “Were you a scout, by any chance?”

“I can’t take the credit for most of it. Chickie’s the one with a sweet tooth.”

“Remind me to give her a big hug the next time I see her.”

“She’d rather have you set her up on a date with that biker who came in after lunch.”

He laughed again. “Feeling adventurous, is she?”

“Chickie’s always adventurous. Was he a client?”

“No.”

She sensed that that was all the information he was going to give out about the “biker.” As always, Quinlan was extremely closemouthed about his business, both clients and staff. On their dates, he had always wanted to talk about her, showing interest in every little detail of her life, while at the same time gently stonewalling her tentative efforts to find out more about him. It hadn’t been long before that focused interest, coupled with his refusal to talk about himself, had begun making her extremely uncomfortable. She could understand not wanting to talk about certain things; there was a certain period that she couldn’t bring herself to talk about, either, but Quinlan’s secretiveness had been so absolute that she didn’t even know if he had any family. On the other hand, he had noticed the gap in her own life and had already started asking probing little questions when she had broken off the relationship.

There was a silk paisley shawl draped across a chair, and Elizabeth spread it across the desk to use as an upscale version of a hobo’s pouch. As she began piling her collection in the middle of the shawl, Quinlan casually flicked at the fringe with one finger. “Do people actually buy shawls just because they look good draped across chairs?”

“Of course. Why not?”

“It’s kind of silly, isn’t it?”

“I guess it depends on your viewpoint. Do you think it’s silly when people spend hundreds of dollars on mag wheels for their cars or trucks, just because they look good?”

“Cars and trucks are useful.”

“So are chairs,” she said dryly. She gathered the four corners of the shawl together and tied them in a knot. “Ready.”

“While we’re up here, we need to raid the snack machines, rather than rely on what you have there. There’s no point in making extra trips upstairs to get more food when we can get it now.”

She gave him a dubious look. “Do you think we’ll be here so long that we’ll need that much food?”

“Probably not, but I’d rather have too much than too little. We can always return what we don’t eat.”

“Logical,” she admitted.

He turned to open the door for her, and Elizabeth stared in shock at the lethal black pistol tucked into his waistband at the small of his back. “Good God,” she blurted. “What are you going to do with that?”

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_c0d565b6-21f6-5527-b04a-46205f351a6c)

He raised his eyebrows. “Whatever needs doing,” he said mildly.

“Thank you so much for the reassurance! Are you expecting any kind of trouble? I thought you said the building was sealed.”

“The building is sealed, and no, I’m not expecting any trouble. That doesn’t mean I’m going to be caught unprepared if I’m wrong. Don’t worry about it. I’m always armed, in one way or another. It’s just that this is the first time you’ve noticed.”

She stared at him. “You don’t usually carry a pistol.”

“Yes, I do. You wouldn’t have noticed it now if I hadn’t taken my coat off.”

“You didn’t have one the night we—” She cut off the rest of the sentence.

“Made love?” He finished it for her. His blue eyes were steady, watchful. “Not that night, no. I knew I was going to make love to you, and I didn’t want to scare you in any way, so I locked the pistol in the glove compartment before I picked you up. But I had a knife in my boot. Just like I do now.”

It was difficult to breathe. She fought to suck in a deep breath as she bypassed the issue of the pistol and latched on to the most shocking part of what he’d just said. “You knew we were going to make love?”

He gave her another of those thoughtful looks. “You don’t want to talk about that right now. Let’s get finished here and get settled in the lobby before dark so we can save the batteries in the flashlights.”

It was another logical suggestion, except for the fact that night wouldn’t arrive until about nine o’clock, giving them plenty of time. She leaned back against the desk and crossed her arms. “Why don’t I want to talk about it now?”

“Just an assumption I made. You’ve spent over half a year avoiding me, so I didn’t think you would suddenly want to start an in-depth discussion. If I’m wrong, by all means let’s talk.” A sudden dangerous glitter lit his eyes. “Was I too rough? Was five times too many? I don’t think so, because I could feel your climaxes squeezing me,” he said bluntly. “Not to mention the way you had your legs locked around me so tight I could barely move. And I know damn good and well I don’t snore or talk in my sleep, so just what in hell happened to send you running?”

His voice was low and hard, and he had moved closer so that he loomed over her. She had never seen him lose control, but as she saw the rage in his eyes she knew that he was closer to doing so now than she had ever imagined. It shook her a little. Not because she was afraid of him—at least, not in that way—but because she hadn’t imagined it would have mattered so much to him.