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“Is that what you like to read?” He juts his chin at the phone on my desk.
“Yeah, sometimes. I read murder mysteries, too, occasionally,” I lie. I haven’t picked up a thriller in years. Romance books are all I’m into. I choose to ignore that he called me little dixie and hope he doesn’t do it again. Or maybe I hope he does.
He grins at me like he knows I’m full of crap, and I swear I’ve never seen this man smile this much in the whole time I’ve known him. Does he have some secret freak side? There’s no way. He’s too damn stuffy. Not that I would mind finding out…
You can’t go around doin’ your boss, Quinn!
I wish the floor would open up a big ol’ hole and swallow me up.
“Knock, knock. Sorry to interrupt, Ms. Quinn, but there’s a lady out here to see you. Says her name is Carla Mendoza.”
Crap on a cracker. Could this day get any worse?
“Who’s that?” Lincoln asks.
“Thanks, Maria. Tell her I’ll be out in a few,” I say to get Maria to leave.
She turns and goes back into the bar, and I say, “Just an appointment I had today. Was there something you wanted to see?”
He comes around the desk and says, “Yes, please show me the beer output report.”
“Well, it’s not quite done for the month, but I’ll show you what I have so far.”
“That’ll be fine.”
I quickly pull it up. “You can take a looksie there. Is it all right if I go meet my appointment?”
“That’s fine,” he replies, staring at me intensely. This man has rarely looked me in the eye in the four years I’ve known him. He’s acting weird today.
I leave him in the office, feeling his gaze on my backside, and I’m glad I wore my tight jeans and fitted Iron Maiden tank top under my plaid shirt today.
“Hi, I’m Quinn,” I say to a dark-haired lady in business clothes standing at the bar talking to Carter. “Are you Officer Mendoza?”
“Yes,” she replies. “Is there somewhere private we can do this?” She holds up a urinalysis cup wrapped in thick gray plastic. Nobody would know what it is unless they’ve seen them before, and I’ve seen plenty.
“Follow me, ma’am,” I say, heading toward the back. My door is open, and Lincoln is standing behind my desk looking at the computer screen. I go down the short hallway to the restrooms. I put my hand out. “I know the drill.”
“Let me pat you down first,” she says, and I groan.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say politely when I really just want to tell her to leave me alone.
She hands me the cup and then crouches down, beginning with my pantlegs, my waist, and finally runs the backs of her hands around my breasts while I’m facing away from her with my arms spread wide. I wince when she touches my shoulder.
“What the hell is this?”
We both turn to see Lincoln standing outside my office with a look of disbelief on his face.
I clear my throat. “Uh, boss, this is my probation officer, Carla Mendoza.”
She dips her head at him. “Sir.”
“Must this be done on company time?” he asks, folding his arms across his suit and tie.
“Well, my hours are their hours, and she offered to come in and knock out my urinalysis.”
“And the frisking?” he asks.
“Making sure she doesn’t carry someone else’s urine on her to trick the test,” Officer Mendoza replies.
