Under the Covers by Rebecca Zanetti Page B

her.
    “Um, no.” She glanced at the man rising from the leather guest chair.
    Tall, serious, he held himself with coiled strength. Just like Quinn. He held out a hand. “Reese Johnson. I’m an old friend of Quinn’s.”
    “Juliet Montgomery.” They shook. She cleared her throat. “Sorry about the interruption. I’ll catch up with you later, Quinn.” She pivoted to go.
    “Juliet.” Quinn’s quiet baritone stopped her cold. She turned. He grinned and edged around the desk to lift her chin and brush her lips with his. “You’re not interrupting. What’s going on?”
    A man who had no problem touching her, even around an old buddy. Juliet would bet her last penny the old buddy was from the military, too. She forced a smile. “Nothing. Really. I wanted to see if you had dinner plans.”
    He frowned. “We’re probably going to work through dinner. Ah, Reese is from the DEA.”
    The Drug Enforcement Agency? The words ripped through her with the force of a sledgehammer. “Oh.” She turned another smile on the guest, her posture straightening. Was he in town for her? He couldn’t be, so she focused back on Quinn. “I suppose you have a lot of work to do.”
    “Yes.” A puzzled light glimmered in his eyes. He grabbed his coat. “Let me walk you out, darlin’.”
    She stumbled as he maneuvered her through the doorway.
    Hustling her out of the station, he grasped her coat lapels. “What’s wrong?”
    “Everything is lovely.” She donned her smoothest smile.
    His dark eyes narrowed. “You’re the most graceful woman I’ve ever met, and you just tripped on a smooth floor. Don’t get all society-like with me. Something is bothering you, and you’ll damn well tell me what it is.”
    “Nothing is wrong. I mean, I heard you investigated a cattle-rustling call this morning, and then I didn’t hear from you, so I was worried.” Not true. Not one word was true. She hadn’t worried at all until seeing a DEA Agent in his office.
    Quinn cocked his head. “You’re right—I’m sorry for not calling you today.” He tied her scarf more securely. “The call wasn’t for cattle rustling. We found a body on the edge of Miller’s northern pasture.”
    She gulped. “A body?”
    “Yes. Shot through the head.” He leaned down, his gaze serious. “I don’t want you going anywhere alone for the time being.”
    “I won’t.” She took a deep breath. “Why is the DEA involved?”
    “We think the deceased was involved with the prescription drug trade.”
    So much relief flushed through her, she nearly swayed. Prescriptions had nothing to do with her. Thank God her past hadn’t caught up with her. Not yet, anyway.
    Quinn tangled his fingers through hers and started down the sidewalk.
    She pulled away. “What are you doing?”
    “Walking you back to the gallery.”
    She tried unsuccessfully to free her hand. “That is not necessary. It’s barely dinnertime, Quinn. I can walk back by myself.”
    “No.” He tugged her into a sidewalk, his shoulders blocking the wind.
    “You’re a force of nature, Quinn Lodge,” she muttered, stepping over a mud puddle.
    “Thank you.”
    “I don’t believe I gave you a compliment.” She sighed. “Is Reese an old military buddy?”
    Quinn nodded at a couple of bankers exiting the Maverick Bank for the day. “We served together for five years. He’s a good friend.”
    “You really shouldn’t leave him to walk me home. I’m sure you have a lot of work to do.”
    “He can make phone calls while I’m gone.” Quinn slid an arm around her shoulders and tugged her into heat. “You’re getting all formal again.” He glanced down. “What I don’t understand is why.”
    She was saved from having to answer when they turned the corner and reached her gallery.
    Quinn stiffened. “Did you leave the front door unlocked?”
    The red door stood slightly ajar. “I don’t think so.” God, had she?
    He leaned down. Scrape marks slashed from the lock. He pushed her gently