Quinn nodded, giving her the nicest smile he could manage, given that his face felt like it was broken. "You hate being Homey Helen, don't you?"

A single tear streaked down her face as she nodded slightly. "You could say that."

"Then why do you do it, Audie?" Quinn scooted closer to her on the grass, and she leaned against him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do.

"I can't talk about this right now," she said, turning her face into his shoulder. She breathed in the clean smell of him-a mixture of soap and fading aftershave and male summer skin.

"Is it too complicated?"

She laughed a little and looked up at him. "Not hardly, Detective. But my head hurts so bad I can't think straight, thanks to you. I think I should go home."

"Come on. I'll drive you." He was about to get up but paused, kissed her very gently on the forehead, then stood and reached down for her hand.

This time, she took it.

Chapter 2

Thank God for Marjorie Stoddard.

By the time Audie stumbled up the stairs and through the reception area to her private office, she felt as if her head would fall off. But on her desk was a steaming cup of coffee and a little packet of Tylenol. That woman was amazing-a little too controlling sometimes, but positively clairvoyant.

After taking her medicine like a good girl, Audie reappeared in the reception room to greet her staff-all two of them.

"Rough game last night?" Griffin Nash was leaning against the doorjamb to his tiny office, and Audie nearly spit out her coffee.

"Good Lord, Griffin! What are you wearing?"

"Isn't it happenin'?" Griffin tugged at the snug vest and did a little spin, sending the long strips of suede fringe twirling out around his waist. "Found it at that funky little boutique in Wicker Park."