She sniffled and sighed and rubbed her forehead. "But I don't think I ever did anything to make any of them mad at me. They all seemed pretty glad to see me go."

"Uh-huh. Green and slimy, you say?"

She cast him a sideways glance-he was scribbling in a small notebook. Was he laughing at her? "Hairy, too."

He nodded soberly.

Autumn looked down at her hands. She'd been biting her nails again. "I think I scare men," she sighed. "I'm kind of a spaz."

"Really?"

"Look, I've got to go warm up. You can stay for the game and I'll take you back to your car after, if you've got time. Maybe we can talk more then?"

"I've got time."

She cocked her head and looked at him closely. "You're not much of a conversationalist, are you?"

What color were those eyes? she wondered. Hazel? That word hardly did justice to the complexity of color there-an olive green iris with a sunburst of gold around the pupil. They were dazzling.

The rest of him was way above average as well.

Detective Quinn had a head of straight, neatly trimmed light brown hair that the sun had kissed near his forehead and temples. His face was handsome as much for its self-assurance as its strong, even features and wily grin. He was probably a good four inches taller than she was, and she could see the outline of his solid body beneath the lightweight sport coat.

"Everything's relative," he said.

"Meaning I talk too much?"

"I didn't say that."

"Right."

"Audie?"

She stopped before she opened the door. "Yeah?"

"You did say I can call you Audie?"

"Yes, I did."

"Then please call me Quinn. My friends call me Quinn."

"Not Stacey?"

"Nope." The grin was back. "Stacey's a girl's name. I'm not a girl."