Free A Hoe Lot of Trouble by Heather Webber Page B

sue me. But that settled whatever my overactive imagination had planned. He was off-limits. Not that I wanted him. I didn't. I was on the rebound. That's all this, this . . . reaction was about. I was trying to figure out if I was still appealing to the opposite sex. Speaking of sex, the lack of it might also be the cause of my raging hormon—
    My temples began to throb, and I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. I would not go there.
    I tugged at my V-necked collar. It had to be ninety degrees in his office. Didn't anyone have air-conditioning anymore?
    "Coffee?" he said again.
    I bet he was thinking he knew why Riley was so screwed up. Where was Ana when I needed her?
    "No thank you. What's going on?"
    He crossed one leg over the other, pulling his foot up onto his knee. The boots looked like they were made of snakeskin. My eyebrow arched, studying them. I instantly liked them better.
    "Mrs. Quinn," he began.
    That name grated on my nerves. Mr s. Quinn. Detective Quinn's wife. Nina Quinn, Nina Quinn, Nina Quinn. Blech! "Please, call me Nina." My voice rang through my ears.
    "Okay, N ina . I'm very concerned about Riley."
    Oh, he's very concerned about Riley. I wondered what he'd say if I told him about the gun magazine under Riley's mattress. Then I'd like to see how concerned he was.
    "Is that so?"
    My voice had an edge to it I couldn't identify. It sounded . . . snippy. Which caused immediate alarm. I'm never snippy. Perhaps sarcastic or smart-mouthed, but never snippy. My sister Maria was snippy. She could snip about anything. From the smell of strawberries to the shade of platinum on her three-carat engagement ring. Snip, snip, snip.
    "Mrs. Quinn?"
    "Nina," I snapped.
    Snip, snap.
    The room whirled. Spots danced before my eyes.
    "It's okay." MacKenna stood at my elbow.
    What was okay? Why was there suddenly two of him? And why did he sound muted, echoey? My ears rang, and I blinked to clear my double vision.
    "Close your eyes," he said, snippy-like.
    No, my inner voice whispered. Not snippy, commanding.
    One of these days I was going to see someone about that inner voice.
    My eyelids fluttered closed. I felt his cool hand curve around the back of my neck. With gentle pressure, he pushed. I opened my eyes and was surprised to find that I was staring at the floor.
    Keds vs. snakeskin-kick-ass-cowboy boots.
    Those boots were definitely growing on me. I was going to have to ask him where he got them once I could find my voice again. Maybe he had hunted the snake himself . . . A girl could hope.
    His hand rested reassuringly on my shoulder. "It's okay."
    I pressed my forehead on my knobby knees. The dancing spots faded.
    "Get Mr. Quinn on the phone," I heard him say into the intercom.
    I swayed as I jerked up my head. "No! No, no."
    MacKenna grinned. "Cancel Mr. Quinn."
    He pressed a glass of water into my hand. I drank slowly.
    "When was the last time you ate?"
    I tried to think, but the gurgling of my stomach was so loud it made it hard. "I had a Snickers last night at nine."
    He gave me that look a parent gives a child when the parent knows something's bad for the child, and the child knows it's bad for the child, but the child does it anyway.
    My God, I was rambling to myself. The water felt cool as I took another sip.
    "It's satisfying," I muttered, using the candy bar's motto.
    "It's unhealthy. You ought to eat three regular meals every day. And lots of fruit."
    "Yes, Doctor."
    Opening a desk drawer, he rummaged around inside. Finally, he pulled out an Almond Joy. Sliding it across the desk, he said, "Emergency supply." He smiled at me, fine lines appearing around his eyes.
    "Is this a test? After that lecture you just gave me about healthy foods, you expect me to eat that candy bar?" I asked, a teasing lilt to my voice. I was not flirting. I wasn't. Honest.
    Liar.
    "Do as I say, not as I do. Unless, of course, you don't want it." He reached across his desk for the Almond Joy.
    I slapped his hand and grabbed the candy