Sex, Lies, and Online Dating by Rachel Gibson Read Free Book Online Page A

and holding her hair was like holding a bit of sunshine. Like…he stopped. Good Lord, he was beginning to sound like those sappy e-mails Kurt sent. Even in his own head. If he wasn’t careful, before he knew it he’d be listening to Jewel and writing shitty poetry.
    She looked up at him over her shoulder, and her cheek brushed the backs of his fingers. “You didn’t beg. You were persistent.”
    “Whatever you call it, it worked.” He let her hair go and held the collar as she shrugged out of the coat. He was in the Red Feather to work the Breathless case, not get sidetracked by how her hair smelled or her smooth cheek. Tonight he was going to listen and watch and seduce information out of her. If that meant he was going to have to seduce the hell out of her in the process, he was only doing his job. At some point in the investigation, he might have to slide his hand to the back of her head and bring her mouth to his. And while he did that, he was going to remember that she was the number one suspect in a criminal investigation. It wasn’t personal. It was the job.
    “I turned you down the first time because I’m really not dating right now.”
    He handed the coat to her, and she hung it over the back of a chair. “Why is that?” She wore one of those fuzzy red sweaters made of rabbit or something equally soft. It clung to the tops of her arms, defying gravity and leaving her neck and shoulders bare.
    “I’m extremely busy with work,” she said as his gaze slid lower, down her spine and over the curve of her behind covered in a black skirt that reached just above the backs of her knees.
    He held her chair for her while she sat. “At the hospital?”
    She stilled for a fraction of a second, then said, “Yeah.”
    “Which floor do you work on?” He moved to sit across the small table from her.
    Silence as she reached for the drink menu, then, “Maternity. Hmm…let’s see here. What should I have? Martini or mojito?”
    She wasn’t all that great a liar. He’d certainly been around better, but not all sociopaths were good liars. Even some of the bad ones still managed to pass a polygraph. But the one thing all of them had in common was a total lack of conscience.
    A waitress who didn’t even look old enough to serve drinks approached the table. Lucy ordered a mojito, Quinn, a bottle of Becks. While they waited, he sat back in his chair and tilted his head to one side. Time to get busy. “Tell me about yourself.”
    She leaned forward and rested her forearms on the table. “I’m so dull I’d hate to bore you to death.”
    “Oh, I doubt you could do that.” The candle in the center of the table flickered, scattering tiny shards of light across her clavicle and bare shoulders. “Tell me about your family.”
    “There’s really not much to tell. My mother and father divorced when I was in the sixth grade. They fought a lot, so it wasn’t a big shock when my dad left.” She shrugged, and the little right sleeve of her sweater slid down her smooth arm to her elbow. “After that, my mother worked long hours, and I took care of my little brother.”
    “How old is your brother?”
    “He’s twenty-four. I’m ten years older than Matt.” She raised a hand to push the sweater back up to the edge of her shoulder. “How about you? Brothers? Sisters?”
    “I have a younger brother and sister,” he answered truthfully. He told her about his seven nieces and how loud holidays were with all those shrieking girls running around. “My father died about three years ago, and my mother’s been nagging me to produce a grandson.”
    “You’ve had a rough time in the past few years.”
    Quinn’s gaze followed her sweater as it once again slipped down her arm. “How’s that?”
    “First your dad and then your wife.”
    Oh yeah. His wife. “Yes,” he said and returned his gaze to hers. “I loved Millie very much. She was everything in the world to me, but I need to move on without her. I have to try