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That surprised a laugh out of him. “You named your cat Norma Jean?”
“I did.” Shane pulled his bagel apart and took a bite.
“Marilyn Monroe or the Elton John song?”
“Both. She’s a diva and she looks like a Norma Jean.”
Quinn snorted. “How can a cat look like anything other than a cat?”
Setting his bagel down, Shane leaned over the table. “Don’t like cats?”
“No, I love them. I just can’t see how—” he laughed and shook his head. “Never mind. Tell me about the name of your business. Neither of you have Merleau in your names.”
“You ever hear of Maurice Merleau-Ponty, the French philosopher? I like what he had to say about perception, about intuition and observation being two sides of the same coin. Seemed to go with the concept of a detective agency.” He narrowed his eyes. “He had a few other cool things to say too. Like, the body is not to be compared, not to a physical object, but rather to a work of art. And the flesh is at the heart of the world.”
Quinn really wished he hadn’t taken another bite of bagel because he nearly choked again. Shane was flirting. With him. He eyed him in shock. He’d just seen the type of guy Shane usually took to bed and he was nothing like that. Hell, he didn’t even have one tattoo, much less miles of muscles. He was nothing but a regular looking guy with a regular kind of life. Nothing interesting.
So what kind of game was this man playing?
“Want to get out of here this afternoon?” Shane asked, breaking into his thoughts. “Get a little exercise?”
He knew his eyes were the size of dinner plates. “Exercise? What kind of exercise?”
“Not the kind you’re apparently thinking about—not that I’d be entirely adverse to that.” There he went with that raspy chuckle. He knew the man wasn’t a smoker, but occasionally, he sounded like one. “Today,” Shane continued, “Mayor Spring will be speaking at the reopening of the Taft Theater now that its renovation has been completed. I thought we could play shadows and see what we can pick up in the crowd. It’ll give you a chance to stretch. I know I need it after so many hours at a computer.”
“Okay, yeah, that sounds good.”
Actually, it sounded great. Quinn had been out on cases only a few times since he’d started working for Ward Security and he’d enjoyed each time. The last time he’d done work in the field had been when they were trying to target a stalker who’d been terrorizing a local social media celebrity—that Geoffrey Ralse case he’d mentioned earlier to Shane. Quinn had been parked in a nightclub only to take pictures, but there had been some excitement with colored smoke and stampeding people. The thrill he’d felt that night had been better than the one he got when he was about to take out the enemy in a game.
Shane stood and picked up his plate. “I’ve got more fieldwork today, but I’ll come back around four to get you. Sure you don’t mind putting in some overtime?”
“I don’t have anything better to do.”
“Damn, Quinn.” Shane shook his head as he tossed his napkin and paper plate into the trash. “You gotta get out more.”Chapter FiveThe police blocked off East 5th Street between Sycamore and Broadway. A thick crowd milled about the thoroughfare and sidewalks both in front of the old Taft Theater and across the road next to one of the vine-covered pavilions in front of the Procter & Gamble building. It was one of the city’s smaller entertainment venues, but Shane had caught a few great concerts there. He’d lucked into amazing seats to a Tori Amos concert years ago and even convinced his dad to see a Pink Floyd tribute band with him.
A podium had been set up on a platform just under the Taft awning, and Shane cracked a grin at the thought of their tall mayor ducking in that short space. The armed security guards in black polos wore a familiar W emblem. Ward Security.
Of course Mayor Spring had hired the best.
He watched Quinn waving at his coworkers, the sun reflecting off his glasses, a breeze moving the soft layers of black hair on his head. He found his gaze returning to Quinn often. He liked looking at him. A lot. The guy was attractive—of that there was no doubt—but he wasn’t like the men Shane was usually drawn to. He was thinner and a little prickly at times, and he had all the social skills of a cardboard box.
But Shane was nevertheless insanely fascinated by him. Enough to keep flirting—just to watch those cheeks turn that enticing shade of red.
He forced himself to look away, his gaze landing on the guards pulling security duty. He’d been in Ward enough to recognize some of them.
