By then Zoe would have returned and she would have had more time with her family. Deciding about her permanent future would have to wait until she was more sure herself of where she wanted to be. Where she was welcome and wanted—as the complete combination of both Ari and Ariana, she thought.
Quinn watched as Ari turned off the phone and replaced it in her purse by the side of the bed. He’d awakened to the sweet sound of her voice, remembered the intimacy between them last night, and then had his heated memories and hopes shattered by her words. Of course I’ll be back, she’d said. He had no doubt she was talking about Vermont.
Which meant she’d be leaving again. Just like he thought. Just like he should have known all along. Didn’t everybody in his life walk sooner or later?
“Who was that?” he asked, his voice sounding calmer than he felt.
“Bill Riley. He heads the Psych Department at the university.” Ari brushed her hair out of her eyes.
He tried not to be affected by her full lips and disheveled, I-just-had-sex look, but failed. “Must be important for him to call so early.”
She glanced at the clock and laughed. “It’s nearly eleven. Actually it was important. He’s got a colleague subbing for me and he wanted to know how long I’d be gone so he could arrange the schedule.”
“And you told him you’d be back.” Needing distance, he rose from the bed.
“Well, I have to finish the semester . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“Of course you do. Just like I have to be downstairs.” So far this case was falling into place, but he never assumed anything was complete until it was time to walk away.
Being back on the job now would give him something to focus on other than the fact that he’d nearly let himself be suckered into believing he had a future with Ariana.
She didn’t say a word when, seconds later, he closed himself in the bathroom for a quick shower, all the while instructing himself to ignore the confused expression on her face and the wounded look in her eyes.
He was the one who’d taken a sucker punch this morning, not her. He’d put everything on the line for a woman and a future, in an ultimate gamble he was obviously destined to lose.
Alone in Quinn’s hotel room, Ari sat stunned by Quinn’s abrupt shift in mood from when they’d gone to bed last night to when they’d woken up this morning. She supposed he was shaken by her phone conversation, but so was she. When Ari was with Quinn, Vermont was the last thing on her mind, and that was a notion she knew she had to explore further. But first he had to finish this situation with Damon, just as Ari had unresolved family issues waiting for her when her sister came home.
Which reminded her, she needed to contact the man who was interested in taking Spank. Though she’d found him via the Internet, she’d called an old friend from high school who’d become a private investigator and he’d looked into the man’s background. Michael Peters was an animal trainer who specialized in monkeys. He was based in New Jersey and met all the requirements for owning an exotic pet—which meant he met most of Ari’s requirements. He lived close enough that Sam could visit. His resumé even said he’d owned the monkey on the television show Friends before moving from L.A. If his references checked out, he’d make a good parent for Spank, and Ari felt responsible not just for Sam’s emotional well-being but also for the monkey’s future.
She dug through her purse but couldn’t find the page she’d printed with Peters’s information. When, after her shower, she looked for her lip gloss and couldn’t find that either, she remembered dropping her purse in Damon’s office, and headed downstairs to reclaim her things. After the chilly reception this morning, she only hoped she didn’t run into Quinn.
Chapter Seventeen
Quinn had a splitting headache and he was in a foul mood. Putting Ari out of his mind wasn’t as easy as he’d hoped. She popped into his head when Quinn was checking on the restaurants, when he fired a hotel employee for stealing bath soap, and now again while he studied the monitors in Damon’s office.
The one bright spot was that his superiors on this job had just called in with the news—on consecutive Thursdays, the balance of the money from the counting-room tapes didn’t match the books. They had enough evidence to take Damon in and enough to obtain a warrant to search the office and seize its contents. As long as they had Damon in custody first.
Otherwise they feared someone on the inside would tip him off and he’d disappear, something they couldn’t afford. They needed Damon to roll over on the boys whose money he was laundering, the drug dealers whose cash he turned into legitimate dough. Then they’d not only take Damon down but take drugs off the streets and away from kids. Susceptible kids, like Sam. And before Quinn left undercover work behind for good, he wanted to know he’d had a hand in something that big.