"Autumn!" Marjorie shook her head with exasperation.

"Where'd you take the flowers?"

"The nursing home, as usual."

"Excellent. That it?"

"No. You also had a message on the main voice mail this morning from a Stacey Quinn-a woman's name but a man's voice. Do you know him?"

Did Audie know Stacey Quinn? She stopped in the doorway to her office and closed her eyes.

She knew that his lips were soft but demanding. She knew how good it felt to wrap her legs around his waist and have him pull her hair. She knew approximately how long and thick he became when sexually aroused, because it was difficult to miss something that big jammed up against the inside of your thigh!

But she didn't know him at all.

"He's the detective working on my case," Audie said hoarsely, taking another sip of coffee so she'd have something to do for three seconds. She felt dizzy again.

"I see." Marjorie offered her the slip of paper. "He said for you to call first thing. He inquired about your headache."

Audie chuckled to herself and caught the flash of humor in Marjorie's eye. So much for clairvoyance. She grabbed the message. "I'll call him right now."

"And you'll tell him about the latest note?" Griffin 's voice was edgy as he called after her. He seemed more shaken up by this than she did-how bad was it this time? she wondered.

Audie turned to him and smiled. "I will, Griff." She let her eyes take in the full effect of his wardrobe, and she giggled-the bald truth of it was, Griffin Nash looked gorgeous.

With his thick shoulder-length dreadlocks and that innocently sexy face, he drew women to him without effort. The man could wear a lawn and garden bag through the streets of Chicago and women of all shapes, sizes, colors, and professions would still be sucked into the gravitational pull of his charms.