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“Oh! That reminds me.” He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulled out a wooden trinket, and presented it to her with an outstretched arm. “I got you something.”

  She extracted it from his long fingers. It was a hand-carved robin. “This is Mr. Finley’s! He keeps them on his balcony. He made this himself, Quinn.”

  “Eh, finders keepers.”

  “Now I have to return it before he notices it’s gone.” She carefully placed it out of harm’s way. “He’d press charges if he knew you took it.”

  Benji joined them, setting the serving tray on the coffee table.

  Quinn instantly reached for a mug, pouring himself a cup. He looked around the tray. “No cream or sugar?”

  “Drink it black,” she said.

  With any hope, it’ll singe your vocal cords, she thought with a small smile.

  He chuckled. “I can’t imagine your neighbors could be more hostile than you.”

  She poured a half a mug for herself. “Well I’m not a morning person, Quinn. That’s just one more reason you don’t want to stay here.”

  “How else am I going to check out my future brother-in-law?”

  “Half-brother-in-law. And you don’t need to check him out. I checked him out.”

  “How do I know he’s not after the family fortune?”

  Quinn grinned at Benji. Benji’s answering smile was uncertain.

  Cat redirected his attention with the snap of her fingers. “Look. Today—or yesterday, now—was the last game of the regular season. I was at the ballpark until midnight and I’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

  “You mean today.”

  Cat ignored his goading. “The Soldiers are having a rally to celebrate being division champs and it’s a big deal for me. I need to be at my best.”

  “Still a baseball fan, huh? I remember you cheering me on when I was on that Joliet summer league.”

  “You had a good arm. If you hadn’t gotten thrown in juvie, you might’ve gotten a scholarship somewhere.”

  “Oh, yes, and then I could’ve got a letterman’s jacket, taken Muffy to the sock-hop, graduated with a degree in business, went to work for her daddy’s Fortune 500 and my life would be just perfect.”

  Benji cleared his throat and smiled. “I’m starting to see the family resemblance.”

  “You could’ve got a college degree for free, unlike me, whose studying was rewarded with six figures in student loans.”

  He shrugged. “Ifs and buts. It looks to me like it paid off.” He surveyed the apartment, craning his neck down the hallway. “What is this place, two bedrooms? Plenty of room for me.”

  “We have an office with a futon. You can stay here for a couple of days but do not make trouble.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I’m serious, Quinn. If I even see that little glimmer of sneak in your eye, I’m gonna tell you to pack your little handkerchief on a stick, get on your motorcycle and ride out of here.”

  “Is this how you roll out the welcome mat?”

  Cat set her mug on the coffee table. “Come on, I’ll show you where your temporary room is.”

  He stood up and Cat followed, nudging him down the long hallway.

  “Whoa, does this hallway ever end? This place is like a fun house.”

  “These lofts are all converted from when the building was a fish cannery. Right here, this is my office.”

  “You mean to tell me that flannel jammies in there can’t put my baby sister up in anything better than an old gutting factory?”

  “First of all, squatter, if you’d come during the daylight hours you’d see our gorgeous view of the river. Secondly, Benji doesn’t put me up in anything. I work, remember?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Grams has kept me filled in on your lifestyle of the rich and famous. This guy doesn’t sponge off you, does he? Is he like an aspiring artist who watches paint dry all day while you go off and slave at work?”

  “He’s a professor of evolutionary ecology at a prestigious private university,” she replied with a haughty tone. She moved her notebooks off the futon and plopped them on the bookshelf. “Remind me again what it is you do?”

  “Calm down, Catty. I’m just checking up on you. I’d know all this if you’d ever came down to see me.”

  She grunted as she unfolded the futon. Quinn made no attempt to help as he perused the desk, stopping when he saw an old picture of Cat and Tams at a Bulldogs game.

  “Who is this foxy lady?”

  Cat let the other half the futon thump on the ground and cringed, belatedly remembering her downstairs neighbor.

  “You’re not her type.”

  “I’m everyone’s type.” He gestured toward his torso and grinned. “I mean, come on.”

  “Unless you’ve undergone a sex change operation, she’s not interested.”

  “Aw man, check one bridesmaid off the list. So who is she?”

  Cat ripped the picture frame out of Quinn’s long fingers. “That is my friend Tams and you’d know her if you’d ever came to see me in Porterville.”

  “Oh, come on, you were there for a minute.”

  “Just like you were in Key West for a second. And before that it was Baltimore, Seattle, Denver—”

  “You’re one to talk. Porterville, Las Vegas, Santo Domingo, Buffalo—”

  “I move for my work.”

  “Yeah well, so do I.”

  “Noooo, you move because of your work.” She dropped her voice to a whisper so Benji couldn’t hear. “That tends to happen when you screw people over. Remember Patrick Knox?”

  He ripped the blanket from her hands. “No, I don’t, and neither should you. I told you to forget that name. Anyway, I’m good now. I’ve been doing some computer consulting.”

  Quinn had taught her everything she knew about computers. He’d even given her a laptop for her high school graduation. Of course, the serial number had been scratched off.

  “What does that even mean?”

  “I provide technical support to businesses and individuals.”

  “How delightfully vague. It sounds respectable and just complicated enough that your lemmings won’t ask you to elaborate as you undoubtedly scam them.”

  He laughed and plopped down on the futon. “Ooh, comfy.”

  “Your feet are probably going to hang off the edge.”

  “I can prove it.” He pulled a business card out of his pocket and handed it to her.

  She gave it a quick glance and rolled her eyes. “Well, now you must be legit because everyone knows how hard it is to print out business cards.” She read it again. “I am surprised you’ve got your real name on here, though. Are you slipping?”

  “When did you get to be so cynical?”

  “You’re confusing cynicism with logic. You expect me to believe that companies are going to use a dropout claiming to be a consultant rather than a rep from an IT firm?”

  “Gates and Zuckerberg were both dropouts.”

  “They dropped out of Harvard. You dropped out of a behavioral alternative high school.” Cat took a pillow out of the closet and threw it next to him. “Listen up. I don’t really care who you’re scamming or how you’re scamming them but Quinn, please don’t mess things up for me here.” She met his eyes. “Things are good for me right now.”

  He frowned. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

  “I’ve heard that before.” Cat looked down before shutting the door behind her. “Good night.”

  Chapter 3

  Cat’s head slumped off her hand and jerked her awake, knocking over the empty coffee cup on her desk. After missing so much sleep last night, she couldn’t help it. She’d tossed and turned for a few hours after going back to bed, but when the E.R. nurse who lived down the hall had came home from her graveyard shift, complaining loudly about the Harley parked in her spot, she’d known she was up for good.

  “Hey! Rip Van Winkle?”

  Cat jumped, but when she recognized the shaved head and black glasses prairie-dogging
over the top of her cubicle, she relaxed. “Spencer. You scared me.”

  He laughed and came around, plopping in her spare chair. Taking the Slinky from her desktop, he juggled it from hand to hand. “Man, I need to figure out how to get the Niagara News Herald to let me sleep on the job. You guys over here at the team have got it made.”

  Teasing brown eyes lit up his round face to let her know he meant no offense.

  “I wasn’t—” she stopped and owned up with a smile. Spencer was a reporter too; he could snuff out a lie. “Okay, I was. I had a long night.”

  “Fight with Benji?” Spencer stopped playing with the Slinky and raised his thick eyebrows.

  “No. I have family visiting and he got in kind of late.”

  “A houseguest? Lucky you.”

  “Lucky me.” She covered her mouth for a yawn. “What brings you here?”

  “I was supposed to have a one-on-one with Aiken for a piece I’m doing, but he had to cancel. I thought I’d see if you wanted to ride with me over to Fountain Plaza. The rally starts in a couple hours.”

  “Already? How long was I asleep?” She pulled her compact out of her purse and made an attempt to freshen her pale complexion with a little mineral powder. “Oh great. Half of Buffalo is going to be at Fountain Plaza to rally for the playoffs and I look like Emperor Palpatine.”

  “Who are you kidding? You look gorgeous.”

  Cat blushed and snapped her compact shut. “I bet you say that to all the Sith Lords.”

  Pre-Benji, she didn’t know the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek. Two Comic-Cons later and here she was: Benji-Lite. Was this what marriage was going to be? Attack of the Clones?

  “So you want to come with me? I saw your car out there but I figured you could leave it here since you’re probably going to Aiken’s steakhouse afterwards. Lucky you again.”

  “You aren’t going to the after party?”

  He frowned. “Soldiers Organization only. And I’m guessing your plus-one is going to be that fiancé of yours.”

  Cat bit her lip. “Yeah, but Benji won’t be there until his class gets over. I bet I can sneak ya in. Why don’t you come with me? I think it’s going to be a lot of fun. It’s not every day we get to hobnob with the brass without recorders in our hands.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  She packed up her bag and rose to her feet. “As long you never, ever call me Rip Van Winkle again.”

  “Cat! Do a Jägerbomb with us.”

  Cat and Spencer stepped off the dance floor right into the marketing clique. One of the girls shoved a shot glass into her hands before she could protest. The digestif sloshed over the edge and spilled onto her painted fingernails. Cat set it down on the pub table full of energy drinks and various alcoholic beverages.

  “Thanks, but I’d better pass.”

  “Aw, come on,” urged a marketing intern whose name escaped Cat. Lily? Poppy? Laurel? It was something flowery.

  Cat pointed at her strapless cocktail dress. She’d gotten the sexy emerald number straight off the homecoming racks at Macy’s, snatching it from under the eager nose of a cheerleader. “I didn’t squeeze into this little number only to have it end up over my head. Besides, I have to stay sharp so I can cover tomorrow’s game. It’ll be the first postseason game of my career, and I think I’m more nervous than the players.”

  A heavy arm slung over her shoulder, a gust of alcohol fumes following in its wake. “Nervous?” Her eyes trailed up the arm to its slurring owner, Ryan Brokaw, the team’s brawny starting pitcher. She could barely see his turquoise eyes underneath his swollen eyelids. He reached for the shot glass and emptied it into the energy drink, downing it before it could even slosh over the brim. Exhaling as he slammed the glasses back on the pub table, he added, “Please. We clinched the division over three weeks ago. I think we can handle the wildcard. Chicago was one game over five hundred, for God’s sake.”

  “Let’s hope that confidence comes through on the mound, Brokaw,” Spencer said, joining them.

  “No doubt it will.”

  Spencer handed her one of the pint glasses he was holding. “Cheers.”

  She took a sip and cringed. “What is that?”

  “Coconut. Why? Is it …” Spencer tasted his and frowned. “Oh.”

  Cat hesitantly sniffed the beverage. “Let me guess. They don’t serve your Maui brew here so you added a shot of coconut liqueur to a regular draught?”

  He grinned and pushed his glasses up his tiny button nose. “That’s the long and short of it, yes.”

  She took another drink for his benefit. “I’ve had worse.” She hadn’t, but she almost felt bad for the native Hawaiian. Spencer had spent the entire season searching for stores that sold his beer, but came up empty city after city. He’d been ecstatic last month when she’d found a website distributor and gave him a full cooler for his birthday.

  “Hey Cat, isn’t that your fiancé over there?” Ryan asked.

  “Benji?” Cat turned away from Spencer and surveyed the packed restaurant. Rather than her fiancé’s curly dark head, a head of much lighter hair caught her eye from among the mass of tall athletes.

  Cat shoved her way across the restaurant, ignoring faces that greeted her and tried to waylay her for a hello. At the entrance she yanked the long, lean arm until the man turned around to face her.

  “Quinn, what the hell are you doing here?”

  He smiled an innocent but amused grin. “My new baby brother brought me.” He stepped aside to reveal Benji behind him.

  Cat gaped at her fiancé, hoping her look expressed her horror at this utter betrayal. “Why would you bring him here? This is my work.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. She’d seen this one before, usually whenever he felt she was overreacting to a bad call from an umpire. “He didn’t have anything to do; I didn’t want to leave him home alone.”

  “I wasn’t supposed to have more than one guest and I already brought you and Spencer.”

  The incipient smile vanished. “You brought Spencer?”

  “Who’s Spencer?” Quinn was already slouching, but ducked his head even lower to nose into their conversation.

  “He’s a reporter who’s in love with your sister,” Benji said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Half-sister and he is not.” Cat put her hands on her hips. “Spencer is just a friendly colleague.”

  “Uh-huh.” Quinn’s eyebrows danced under his long bangs. “To think I was afraid this was going to be boring.”

  Cat glared at Quinn. Unlike Benji’s, his smug smile had yet to fade from his infuriating face.

  Benji reached out for her and his voice softened. “He’s new in town, what was I supposed to do?”

  Quinn reached his arm up and tousled Benji’s wavy black hair. “Handsome and thoughtful. Quite a catch you got here.”

  Cat directed her wrath back up to Quinn. “How’d you even get in here? Only Benji’s name was on the list.”

  “I told them I was your brother and they practically rolled out the red carpet. You’ve got some pull.”

  Cat sighed. She looked Quinn up and down, silently pleased by his appropriate attire. The black pants, black button-up and black sports coat actually looked business casual in the restaurant full of suits. Little did they know, Quinn didn’t do black-on-black because it was in style; black was the only color he wore. Still, other than the lack of designer labels, he fit right in. He even had one of Benji’s dressy belts wrapped around his thin waist. She recognized the plaque buckle and hoped her fiancé wasn’t too attached to it, because it wasn’t likely to grace his closet again.

  “Just … don’t make trouble. Have a drink, sit at the bar, don’t bother anybody. Don’t talk to anybody. Don’t even look at anybody.”

  Benji wrapped his arm around her. “I’m sure he knows his way around a bar, Cat.” His face dropped and he turned to Quinn. “Oh, I didn’t mean—”

  Quinn waved his hand and patte
d his flat stomach. “No worries, Professor. I do like myself a good beverage.”

  “Just don’t like yourself anyone’s wallet,” Cat said.

  A busty brunette passed by and Quinn’s eyes followed.

  She snapped her fingers in his face. “Or their dates. That’s Todd Foley’s girlfriend. The Soldiers’ catcher?”

  Quinn merely raised his eyebrows, intrigued. He knew the effect he had on women and worse, Cat knew it too. The few friends she’d had in high school had stopped talking to her the second that Quinn had stopped talking to them.

  “Calm down. I’ll behave, just for you.”

  Cat rolled her eyes and tugged at Benji’s hand. “Come on, I’ve got a VBU intern who wants the stats on your new T.A.”

  “I don’t know if he’s single.”

  Cat watched with amusement as Benji helplessly tried to explain to the intern the exact shade of his teaching assistant’s eyes. Over the girl’s shoulder, his own indescribably blue eyes shot her a silent plea for rescue, but she merely blew him a kiss and let the intern prattle on.

  That’s what he gets for bringing Quinn. Eugène Sue was wrong; revenge needn’t be served cold to be enjoyed.

  “Catriona, there you are.”

  Cat turned away from the show and found herself face to face with Pam Aiken.

  “Mrs. Aiken? Hi!” She didn’t mean to sound surprised, but the general manager’s wife didn’t attend Soldiers’ functions unless they were catered by a five-star restaurant. Aiken’s Steak ’n Taters was a city favorite, but Zagat’s love wasn’t as unconditional.

  “How’s Paige? I haven’t seen her since I covered the offseason in Santo Domingo, but I hear her baseball camp down there is going great.”

  “Mmm.” Pam pressed her ruby lips together. The shade was a perfect complement to her alabaster complexion. “She’s developed into quite the humanitarian. Taking after her mother, I suppose. I chair several philanthropic committees, you know.”

  “Oh uh, that’s nice. Please tell her I said hello.”

  Pam lightly patted the side of her chignon, not that her dark brown hair needed a touch-up. Like their daughter, Roger’s wife was the very picture of perfection—flawless makeup, unchipped manicure, a tight designer evening gown that showcased her toned body. Platinum bangles jingled as she reached to place a flat hand on Cat’s wrist. “Darling, I just spent the last half hour being entertained by your cousin.”