“I think the guy needs to be laid over a knee and given a good spanking,” Hunter said, “but I don’t think he’s The Night Warrior.” He motioned toward my face. “Crumb.”
I blinked away the image of Jill ass-up and swiped a hand over my mouth. “Not him? But—”
“Look, he checked me out, okay? You know,” Hunter slowly stroked his gaze over me from head to foot, lingering a moment at my crotch. “He’s gay. My bet, the victim.”
Jill? The victim?
“He was acting defensive back there,” Hunter continued.
“Then he can identify who attacked him!”
“I don’t think he’s going to come forward about it any time soon. He’s angry, embarrassed.”
“Then what should we do?”
Hunter cocked his head and grinned. “Leave it to me—I have a way with stubborn men.”
“Didn’t seem to work with Mitch,” I pointed out.
He hurled his sandwich wrapper at my stomach. “You really say what you think, don’t you?”
“Because it’s true.”
Hunter laughed. “Yeah, but sometimes a little sugarcoating or downright fake forgetfulness goes a long way.”
“You want me to forget this thing with you and Mitch?”
“Yeah. Because there is no me and Mitch.”
“Making your own luck didn’t help then?”
“Sure it did. Mitch wasn’t the only one I was making my luck for. He wasn’t even the main one.”
I scrunched my sandwich wrapper around Hunter’s, attempting to mask the warm feeling flooding me. I tried to thank him, but it struggled to come off my tongue so I nodded instead.
“Right,” Hunter said, rolling forward. “Let’s go somewhere I can take my sweater off.”
I dressedin a suit because itwasa date, after all. The cuffs were stiff at my wrists, alternating between annoying and, well, pleasant when they tickled my skin lightly.
Quinn stomped around the kitchen, so I decided against blow-drying my hair in favor of giving him a quick greeting.
He stopped abruptly, the milk from his glass splashing on the floor. Placing the newly-emptied glass on the bench, he dropped a dishtowel onto the small puddle and swiped his foot over it, side to side. “Might want to lose the jacket,” he said tightly, his gaze doing the same sweeping that Hunter demonstrated earlier.
“Really?” I asked, veering around him for a slice of bread to pop into the toaster. “Is that why you were checking me out?”
Quinn picked up the dishtowel with a thin laugh and tossed it into the sink. He suddenly appeared right beside me, prying the bread from my fingers. “Why eat if you’re going out on a date?”
“We’re just doing a movie. Then she wants to help out with ideas for my column.”
“Your column? That’s your idea of a date?”
“Well, yeah. We’re going to Jell-O Fight Night just off Fifth. So right now”—I snatched back the bread and popped it in the toaster—“I’m hungry.”
Zing!
The toaster spluttered and sparked and I jerked my arm back.
Quinn swore and pulled the plug from the socket. He twisted me toward him with a tight, panicked grip on my forearms, checking me over carefully. “Are you okay?”
