Not My Spook! by Tinnean

Author:Tinnean
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2012-07-04T18:44:13+00:00

XII

IT WAS late when I returned from Langley that evening. I’d hoped to make it home earlier, but I’d gotten involved with something that had come up while I was away. I discussed it with Bramwell Rayner, my director, and would have had Sydney Cooper look into it further, but she was on assignment. Instead I sent Glenn McKenna, another officer, with orders he was to report back to me, personally.

It had been a long day, and I was feeling every hour of it. I turned my car into the street where I lived. Mark’s car was at the curb, and suddenly I wasn’t feeling quite so exhausted. I parked the Lexus in the garage, crossed the patch of grass that was my front lawn, and let myself into the house.

The odor of grilled steaks filled the first floor, and I followed my nose to the dining room. The chandelier had been dimmed, the candelabrum in the center of the table was lit, and two place settings were facing each other. The silverware had been in my father’s family, and Mother had given it to me when I moved into my first place. An embossed M was stamped into the handle of each piece. There were salads and a platter of roasted vegetables. Mark walked in with two plates.

“What do we have here?” My mouth was watering.

“Twenty-ounce porterhouse steaks and asiago-parmesan mashed potatoes, Quinn. From B. Smith’s.” His look was bland.

“But they don’t do takeout!”

Mark just smiled, and I was willing to bet he knew someone there who owed him a favor. “Go wash your hands, baby.” Damn. I was starting to like hearing him call me “baby.” “Dinner’s ready.”

I used the first floor washroom, then hurried back. Mark was pouring two glasses of Pinot Noir.

“Have you been delving through my wine cellar?”

“Quinn! I’m cut to the quick!” He spoiled the effect by grinning, the kind of grin that sent shivers up my spine.

My trousers were suddenly snug, a condition that was becoming all too frequent, and I quickly sat down. I wasn’t sure I wanted Mark to know the effect he had on me.

His smile widened. “The wine steward at B. Smith’s highly recommended this vintage. What do you think of it?” He sliced into his steak, which was so rare I almost expected it to moo in protest, but waited until I sipped the wine and gave it my approval.

“He’s right. This wine complements the steak very well.”

“Good thing. Otherwise I’d have had to go back and cancel him.” He raised his eyebrow at my frown. “Only kidding, babe.”

“Of course you were.” I cut my steak and found it was broiled exactly the way I preferred it—medium rare. I put a bite in my mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Hmm.” I put down my fork and knife and touched my napkin to my lips.

“Is something wrong, Quinn?”

“Actually, a dinner this good, from B. Smith’s: I was thinking you’re going to get lucky tonight.”

His eyes were very bright, and he went back to slicing his steak.

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