When he’d left, he’d taken the latest Breathless letter with him and dropped it off in the crime lab for the technicians to look over in the morning. He’d planned to take it in that day anyway. What he hadn’t planned until he’d looked in her eyes filling up with tears was a little petty theft, but by the time he’d walked out his front door, he’d known what he would do.

He was a dumb ass. He’d put his job on the line for a woman who would never forget that he’d undressed her in front of a hidden camera. He’d risked getting terminated for a woman who sat next to him as stiff as a poker. A woman who’d made him want something he’d given up on. Something he’d convinced himself he was better off not having in his life.

Quinn watched their images on the television screen as they ate dinner together, talking as if they were just two people getting to know each other. He didn’t recall the meal so much as he did her sweater and leather skirt. Then she brought out the chocolate cake, and he recalled how he’d felt watching her put the fork into her mouth.

“Sometimes, chocolate is better than sex,” she spoke from the television.

“Honey, nothing is better than sex,” he’d said.

She set the fork on her plate and pushed it aside. “I guess that would depend on your basis of comparison.”

He rose and said in a voice so sexually charged that he hardly recognized it, “Come here.” From across the room, Quinn watched the screen, where he wrapped his arms around Lucy. “Let’s give you something good to compare.” Then he kissed her and it was as hot as he remembered. Sexual energy rolled in waves from the television screen, scorching a path across the living room, and Quinn got a little hot watching it. He slid his gaze to Lucy to see if she felt it too. Her brows were lowered, and she appeared more pissed off than excited.

“I need to use your restroom,” she said from the tape, and Quinn returned his attention to the screen. She moved out of frame and Quinn followed. The motion-sensitive tape shut off, and Quinn rose from the couch to place the second cassette into the video camera. He pushed Play and returned to his seat.

The film started to roll with him walking into the living room, reaching for her purse, and dumping the contents on the couch.

“You went through my purse?”

He slid his gaze to hers. “Yeah, and you carry a lot of crap around with you.”

She folded her arms beneath her breasts. “That’s how you knew about my pepper spray.”

On the screen, Quinn shoved everything back into the purse, then moved to stand in the middle of the living room. He looked up when she entered the room, his dark gaze following her. Even on the black-and-white film, he could see the desire in his eyes. He’d thought she was a killer, and he’d wanted her anyway.

On the film, she looked into the camera and told him she didn’t think they should have sex. From behind her, his gaze was directed at the camera too, although he knew they’d been looking into the mirror above the fireplace.

He watched his hands move down her arms and come to rest on her waist. “You tell me when to stop,” he said and pulled her back against his chest. “Are you uncomfortable when I kiss you here?” He kissed the side of her throat and she shook her head.

“That’s good. I like kissing you right here. Where your skin’s soft and your hair smells like flowers and looks like sunshine.” He shoved his fingers inside the waistband of her skirt and slid them to her sides. She tilted her head to the right, and he sucked the side of her neck. He slid his fingers up beneath the edge of her sweater to her breasts. His eyelids were heavy, and there was no mistaking the need reflected on tape.

At the moment, Quinn didn’t know what he felt most, embarrassed or turned on. He was embarrassed by the things he was saying, but at the same time, watching his hands move upward and his thumbs brush her hard nipples was the most erotic thing he’d ever done. A hundred times more erotic than watching a porno flick. On the screen, her breath caught and her lids drifted shut as his hands cupped her breasts.

“Your nipples are hard,” he whispered into the side of her throat. “Like a woman who wants to make love.”

She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. As they kissed, he slid the fingers of one hand beneath the waistband of her skirt and pressed his palm into her back. His other hand moved up her spine, then he gathered her sweater in his hands and pulled it over her head.

“I love a woman in lace,” he whispered and lifted a hand to touch the lace edge of her bra with the tips of his fingers. “You’re so beautiful, you make me forget.”

“Forget what?”

“That I should take it slow. That I don’t want to blow it by rushing things,” he answered and pressed his palms into her breasts. “But it’s been so long.” He pushed her breasts together as he bent forward and kissed her deep cleavage. “Why did you have to look like this? This would be easier if you weren’t so beautiful. If I didn’t want you so much that I can’t think of anything but getting you naked.”

He kissed her and ran his hands down her bottom to the backs of her thighs. Then he lifted her and wrapped her legs around his waist. He walked with her from the frame, and the tape kept rolling, fixed on the empty room. The sound portion continued, filling the room with the sounds of soft moans, and Quinn was stunned by the clarity. “Damn. I didn’t think the audio could pick up what was going on in the hall,” he said.

Lucy didn’t comment. Her hands fell to her lap as they listened to Quinn’s voice fill the tape. “Nothing here but Lucy,” he heard himself say. “You want me, and I want to fuck you until you can’t walk for a week. Until you can’t move. Can’t think. Can’t do anything but moan. Do you want that, Lucy?”

Okay, that was a little embarrassing. On the tape came a breathy, “Yes.”

More silence, and then his groaned, “I’ll help you, Lucy.” What she said was unintelligible, and then it was Quinn again. “Yes, touch me there, just like that. You won’t be alone. Oh, God that feels good. I’ll get you help. I’ll get you all the help you need.”

Jesus H., that was more than a little embarrassing, and he could feel his neck start to burn. He didn’t remember saying he’d get her help. He’d been so into her, so wrapped up in the moment, that he’d thought he could fix her. As if overcoming murderous impulses were curable.

On the tape, the ringing of the telephone mixed with the telling sounds coming from the hall-his deep groan and the breathy moan she made deep in her throat.

Sitting there listening, Quinn got so hard that he almost came too. He turned his head to look at Lucy, but her gaze was directed at the televison.

“I’m sorry,” she said on the tape. “I didn’t mean to do that yet.”

“You’ll make up for it.” The telephone stopped, only to start ringing again. “Shit! I’ll be right back.” Quinn’s image moved into the living room. He picked up the cordless phone next to the couch and cradled it between his shoulder and the side of his face. “Yeah?”

“Because I was busy,” he barked into the phone as he buttoned his pants. “What?” His hands stilled a second before he grasped the receiver. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He turned toward the hall. “Tell me you’re kidding me.”

After a few moments, Quinn could be seen hustling Lucy out of the house, then the tape shut off and the television filled with static.

A furrow between her brows, Lucy turned to look at him. “Why did you do that, Quinn?”

He thought he’d made her understand. Apparently not. “There were reasons to believe that you were Breathless. And we were-”

“No,” she interrupted him. “Why did you tell me you’d get me help?”

He looked away.

“There’s no help for a serial killer,” she said.

“Yeah. I know.” He could feel his ears turning hot.

“Did you offer to help the other suspects you were dating?”

“No. Things never got that far with the others.” He looked back into her face. “I didn’t touch them the way I touched you.” What did it matter now? Probably she wanted to humiliate the hell out of him before she kicked him the rest of the way to the curb. Then she’d turn the tapes over to Sergeant Mitchell and get him fired.

Instead, she did something that baffled the hell out of him. She climbed into his lap and sat on his erection. With her legs on the outsides of his thighs, she placed her hands on the sides of his face and said, “I think you liked me even when you thought I was going to kill you.”

He looked up into her blue eyes. “A little.”

She smiled and slid her hands down his chest. “I thought you weren’t going to lie to me anymore.”

He grasped her legs and pressed his fingers into her. He knew what she wanted to hear, but he couldn’t lie to her. Not even with her crotch warming his fly. “I do like you, Lucy. I like you a lot. When I’m not with you, I think about being with you. I like having you around. We’re incredible together. The sex is hot, and you make me want things I haven’t thought possible.”

“What things?”

“You.” He looked into her eyes and confessed, “A life outside of my work.”

Her hands slid up to the side of his neck. “Why can’t you have those things? Last night you said I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“I shouldn’t have said that. And I can’t believe I’m saying this now, but you’re not living here with me because you have a lot of choices. I’ve seen relationships develop out of stressful situations and tragedies, and sometimes they don’t last past the trial.”

She tugged his shirt from his jeans and pushed it up his chest. “If we’d met under normal circumstances, it still might not last.”

He grabbed her hands before it went too far and he knew he couldn’t stop. “True, but this situation is far from normal.”