Free Undercover Heat by Tami Lund Page A

an irritated look. “We’re here, in this position, because of this case. I’m not ignoring it.” She strode from the room.
    “I doubt very much we were supposed to end up in
this
position because of the case,” he complained to the empty condom wrapper lying on the bedside table. And then he reluctantly climbed out of bed and got dressed.
    • • •
    It was her. Whitney Bianca, looking as put together and sexy as ever, standing at the back door holding a bottle of wine and a binder full of financial information. Her timing could only have been worse if she’d interrupted earlier in the day, while they were having sex for the first time. At least Kyra hoped it was the first time and not the last. It had been damned obvious he was enjoying her blowjob, which only made
her
enjoy it more. And if she could take his mind off the call from the prison, well, that only made her want to try harder.
    Quinn had a horrible life thus far. She was amazed, frankly, that he was able to handle his past as well as he did. She now understood what Raquel meant when she said he hid behind the booze. Kyra couldn’t say she wouldn’t do the same thing, in the same situation. She felt lucky to have had an idealistic childhood, even though her experiences—and his—had been completely outside of their control. She only wished Quinn would come to that same realization. He could do nothing about where he came from, but he could control where he went in life, how he managed his own choices.
    Speaking of managing choices, he was doing a lousy job of hiding his irritation with Whitney at the moment.
    “I think we’ll pass,” he said, nodding at the bottle of wine. Kyra glanced toward the kitchen. The open bottle of Jack Daniels still sat on the counter. If he’d had a condom handy, they probably would have ended up having sex on that counter. Maybe he’d be interested in trying that out later.
    When the hell had she become so wanton?
    “Do you have some time anyway?” Whitney asked in her sugary sweet voice. Kyra knew that voice was reserved for Quinn. There was a distinct change in the woman’s speech patterns every time she addressed Kyra directly.
    “Not really,” he replied. Kyra elbowed him in the side. He grunted, gave her a side-eyed glare, and then waved at the flowered wicker furniture. “Have a seat.” His tone was resigned.
    “I’m going to grab some water. You want some?” he asked without looking at Kyra.
    “Yes, please.”
    Whitney perched on the edge of a seat cushion, her already short skirt riding into dangerously inappropriate territory. She made no move to tug it over her thighs. Quinn returned with two bottles of water, a wine glass, and a corkscrew.
    “I don’t want to drink if you aren’t going to join me,” Whitney said. Her red painted lips curved into a pout.
    Quinn shrugged and returned to the kitchen. When he stepped back into the room, he held three bottles of water in his hands. Whitney’s pout turned into a frown as she accepted one of the bottles.
    “You seem edgy,” she said. “Are you arguing again?”
    Was it Kyra’s imagination, or did she sound hopeful?
    “Nope. We were in the middle of something.”
    Kyra knew her cheeks flamed. He couldn’t have been more obvious had he announced, “She was giving me a blowjob and frankly, I wanted her to finish.”
    Whitney narrowed her eyes. “You told me to stop by any time.”
    “Yeah, well—”
    Kyra cut him off. “What can we do for you, Whitney?” she asked, ignoring Quinn’s glare.
    Whitney indicated the folder she’d brought with her. “I thought we could go over some of my ideas about investing your money.” She turned slightly in her seat, obviously angling for Quinn’s attention, and Kyra had to watch as the other woman’s shirt gaped open and her breasts practically spilled out into his lap. He spared a quick glance down at the sight and then shifted his gaze up to Whitney’s face.
    She knew damn well he was comparing