I could imagine serious Shelly—because she was always serious—wanting to help as many strays as possible. She was still that way.

“But the two of you are different in important ways as well.” Katherine’s smile lost some of its luster as her eyes lost some of their focus. “She’s not…open to new things, and she never did well with change. She wasn’t ever very affectionate, didn’t respond to hugs, that sort of thing.”

“No, you’re right. I once tried to hug her and she put her hand on my face and pushed me away. Then she just kept talking like nothing had happened.”

Katherine gave me a sympathetic smile, then gave a bantam laugh. “She doesn’t like outward displays of affection. She told me when she was fourteen that she preferred sacrifice as a demonstration of love rather than hugs and kisses.”

I don’t know why I asked my next question, but I felt driven to it. “Was that hard for you? When she was growing up?”

Katherine’s gaze searched mine and she seemed to be considering the question. Finally she responded, “Yes and no. I always looked for and expected the best in my children. I learned to love everything about them, but I didn’t always like it. I didn’t like that Quinn worked for criminals when he was a teenager, but I loved that he was smart and enterprising. I didn’t like that I couldn’t hold my daughter without her pushing me away, but I loved her fierce independence and individualism.”

“And what about your oldest, Desmond Jr.?”

She smiled at me, but it was a smile that made my heart break. “I don’t know…I think when you lose a child you forget everything you didn’t like. When I think of Des, I think of him laughing all the time, his loyalty to his family, his sense of honor, his sweetness. But I’m sure, when he was with us, he drove me crazy too.”

I tried to return her smile but managed only a half mouth tilt. Her grip on my hand shifted and she fit my fingers between both of her palms.

“And now we have you,” she said.

“Me?” My eyebrows lifted then lowered. “What about me?”

“Now we have you to discover, to love, to like.”

“I’m weird. You should know that, if you don’t already.”

“I’m weird too. I like math jokes too much and have opinions about people who do crossword puzzles.”

This was surprising. “Studies show that they’re exceptionally good for keeping your brain active, retaining memories.”

“Those studies were probably conducted by people who do crossword puzzles.”

I lifted a single eyebrow, contemplating the possibility of investigator bias. “I honestly don’t know….”

She chuckled, shook her head. “I’m so glad you called me. I’m so glad I get to know you.”

I glanced at our entwined fingers. She was holding my hand and I was holding hers. Even though it might have been premature, it felt so strange, but also right and natural to have a woman with wisdom and experience who looked at me with trust and affection. I knew I lacked a mother in every way that mattered and was curious about the dynamic of mothers and daughters.

But I didn’t know until that moment, sitting at Katherine’s kitchen table, holding hands, how desperately I wanted this relationship. I think I’d already fallen in love with the idea of her. Rationally, this was concerning because I didn’t know her very well.

We both shifted our attention to Quinn and Desmond as they walked into the room. Quinn’s shirtsleeves were rolled up to his forearms and he was in the process of drying his hands with a towel. Desmond came in behind him holding a pie and plates.

Quinn’s gaze met mine, held for a beat, then shifted to where his mother and I were holding hands. His expression didn’t change. Except for two or three breaks in his façade, he’d been wearing basically the same expression the entire time we’d been there.

Impassive.

This didn’t worry or alarm me, especially now that I saw Quinn was a carbon copy of his father. Their eyes shone with intensity and were often the only outward sign of a shift in thoughts or feelings. Truly, it was fascinating to see them together.

But I saw glimpses of his mother in him as well, especially the goofy jokes and dry wit. As well, Katherine was a toucher: she showed a good deal of her affection through light caresses, squeezing of shoulders, brief embraces. She’d cupped my cheek, smiling into my eyes several times while we’d been making dinner, and I’d noted the way she was always looking for excuses to touch her husband, scratch his back, smooth her hand down his arm.

She did these things in a way that reminded me of her son, and it warmed my heart. I would have to thank her later for passing this personality trait to Quinn, as it was definitely one of my favorites.

“What’s going on?” Quinn’s gaze was still on our hands.

“We were just talking about whether or not investigator bias is present in memory trials involving crossword puzzles,” I said, which was mostly true.

Quinn’s eyes narrowed as they moved back to mine, assessing the truth of my statement.

I was struck with a sudden thought.

“Uh—Quinn, could you join me in the bathroom for a minute?”

He blinked at me once. “In the bathroom?”

“Yes. In the bathroom.”

I noted his parents exchanged a look before his mother said, “If you two need to talk, we can….”

“No, no. I prefer the bathroom. I do my best thinking in there.” I stood from the table, gave Katherine a nod of my head, and grabbed Quinn’s hand. “We’ll be right back.”

I led him blindly out of the dining room in no direction in particular—just out. He quickly took over and steered us through a hallway lined with family photographs to a small half bath under the staircase.

Once we were inside with the door closed but before the light could be switched on, I pressed him against the wall and kissed him. He liked this, because he immediately turned me so that my back was against the wall. At first, everything—every touch, grope, bite, lick—felt frantic, urgent, necessary.

Then, after maybe a full minute, his weight shifted against me and the movements of his mouth slowed, savored. He used his hands to tilt my head this way and that, angling me how he liked, and kissed me with an unhurried meticulousness until I was well and truly dizzy.

At length, he dipped his chin so that our foreheads connected and we inhaled each other.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome,” He said.

His response, so serious, made me smile. We were still surrounded by darkness, which made our softly spoken words sound louder and more intimate.

“Quinn…I want you to be happy,” I said, and my hands moved from where they gripped his arms to his waist.

“I am.”

“And I want to marry you as soon as possible.”

He nodded, moving his face to nip my jaw, nuzzle my neck. “Good.”

I gathered a deep breath of courage and—though it was nearly pitch black—I closed my eyes in preparation for the words I would speak next.

“And, I think that as soon as possible is still June 14, and here is why: I think we should have the wedding here, in Boston.” I felt him stiffen at this news, so I tried to speak faster. “I think we should let your mother plan it, or as much of it as she wants to plan. I think we should have a large family wedding. I think I should wear a white dress, and underneath I should wear the bridal lingerie you picked out in London. Because I think it would mean a lot to your parents—not the bridal lingerie, the family wedding—and we don’t really care about the details, and if it’s within your power to give another person great joy at little or no expense to yourself—or even at great expense—then you should, especially when you love that person. And, in the interest of full disclosure, I think I might be a little in love with your mother….”

“Okay,” he whispered against my ear, one of his hands caressing from my shoulder to my waist, then up to my breast.

I opened my eyes in the darkness. I could just barely discern the outlines of his form towering above me.

“…Okay?”

“Yes.”

My face was commandeered by a huge smile. Quinn moved against me in such a way that ignited sparks along my spine and made my lower stomach twist. My body instinctively reached out to his, to him.

“Thank you.” This time my words were a bit breathless.

“No, Kitten.” He lifted his head, brushed his lips against mine twice, then touched his nose to mine. “Thank you.”

CHAPTER 17

*Quinn*

All hell broke loose on Wednesday.

After a long day of dealing with idiot ass**les, all I wanted to do was make love to my girl. Then I wanted to listen to her voice as she described the best way to extract essential oils from peppermint leaves, or whatever the hell topic she decided was most interesting at that particular moment.

Instead, I came back to our suite at the hotel and found Dan, his asshat brother Seamus, Janie, and my mother sitting in the living room having tea.

Fucking hell.

We had seen my parents every day since dinner on Saturday.

We went to church with them Sunday morning then out to eat. My father and I talked about a fishing trip over the summer. Shocking both of us, I asked for his advice on two new properties, corporate client accounts that my company would be managing at the end of the summer. After the discussion, I decided to ask him later if he was interested in consulting.