Page 37 of Born to Sin

“I am not,” Troy said. “But I don’t like being on the sand. I’m going to the playground.”

Beckett looked like he wanted to say something, but all he said was, “Fair enough.” After that, he jogged over to Janey’s side of the net and said, “Put me in the game, coach.”

Quinn laughed. What else could she do? She said, “Come over and play on my side, Alexis. All right. We’ll serve it over there, and you two practice passing it to each other.”

Beckett said, “Right. I’ll pass it to you, Janey, and then you try to pass it back to me. Same as you’ve been sending it over the net, but sideways, to me. Got it?”

“OK,” she said dubiously. “But I don’t see how—”

“No, that’s good,” Quinn said. “All right. Serving.” She laid it up easy, and Beckett got under it and, yes, bumped it gently over to Janey. Her answering pass was low and to the side, but Beckett got under it somehow, sliding one leg far out to the side to do it with the kind of display of thigh muscles and commitment that Quinn appreciated, and passed it back to the girl.

Janey missed it, and Beckett said, “Never mind. We’ll try it again. Try to get under it and bump it up high for me.”

Two times, three, and on the fourth try, Janey’s ball came back to Beckett exactly the way it should, a high, easy setup. Beckett slammed it hard with the heel of his hand and sent it over the net, right between Quinn and Alexis.

Alexis shrieked and ducked. Quinn dove, crashed into Alexis, who went sprawling, got her hands under the ball, and bumped it straight into the net.

Janey shouted,“Yes!”Beckett high-fived her, and Alexis got to her feet, brushing sand off her shorts, and said, “Thatcan’tbe how you’re supposed to do it! You almost hit me in theface!It’s not supposed to befootball!”

“It only hurts if it hits you,” Quinn said, feeling the grin spread over her face as Beckett grinned right back. “That’s your motivation to get your hands under there instead. Right. Serve it to us, Janey. Alexis and I need the practice too. Want to learn to send it over the net like that, Alexis?”

“Not really,” she said. “Seriously, how is this enjoyable? I could be sitting on the couch reading a book right now, but nooo. I’m here having healthyqualitytime instead. Practically gettingkilled.”

Janey said, “Come on. Please? It’ll help me get better for tomorrow. Just set it for Quinn. Sport is fun!”

“Getting sweaty and sandy,” Alexis pronounced, “is not fun. Going for a walk and talking is fun. Reading is fun. Having a milkshake is fun. But all right. I’ll be your support animal.” She sighed. “Heaven knows I’m used to it.”

“Thanks,” Janey said. “Because I want to try getting it when Quinn sends it to me that way. Let me do it, Dad.”

“Righty-ho,” he said. “If you yell, ‘I’ve got it!’ I’ll know to stand back.”

After another fifteen minutes, they wereallsweaty and sandy, Alexis was still doing some complaining, and Troy had wandered back over to build roads in the sand at the edge of the court and talk to himself as he moved his hands along them like cars, which Quinn figured was progress, beach-wise. The light was fading, though, and the breeze rising when Beckett said, “Time to wrap this up and go get dinner. Want to get pizza, Quinn?”

“Sure,” she said, because why not? Also, she was hungry. And see? It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t anythingcloseto a date. The only thing that had been remotely date-like was the kissing, and let’s face it, Janey was right. When you sat on a couch with a man and then scooted over to sit beside him, kissing was bound to come up. The man hadn’t had sex in two years.

Supposedly. She knew enough by now not to believe everything people said.

Pizza. Pizza would be good.

* * *

He’d invitedher for pizza because she’d done Janey a favor, and because he needed to make this work for the kids. They were friends, he guessed. Casual friends. He’d never had many women friends—Australia could be a pretty blokey place, and construction was blokier still—and it wasn’t easy to be friends with a woman whose skin got that salted-caramel look when she sweated and who spiked a volleyball like she meant it, then laughed in delight when you sent it back over the net to her, who lunged for it with a glorious display of sandy skin, thigh muscles, and general reckless abandon—but there was always a first time, right? His kids needed all the support they could get, and if he could make that happen, he was going to do it.

Which didn’t make him one bit ready when he walked her to her car after that pizza—with his kids and Alexis watching again and Alexis probably providing a running commentary on his technique—and she said, “I think you should come live with me.”

17

NOT A MURDER MYSTERY

He said, “Pardon?”

She said, “My house has three bedrooms and two bathrooms and a couple of other spaces, too, and there’s only me there. I’ve thought about a housemate, but it’s never quite happened. My job and all that, probably. Conflicts of interest, but you’ve already appeared in court, right? Got your one allowed bonehead move over with. Unless you plan to break the law again, we’ve got no problem. Anyway, my bedroom’s on the first floor, so don’t get worried. You aren’t going to run into me in my sheer nightgown in the middle of the night or whatever has you looking like that. We both work all day, and it’s for, what, two months? You’ve got a problem, we’re friends, and I like your kids. Why not?”

That was heaps of talking, and for once, she looked nervous. He said, “You’re too trusting.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“I’ll charge you rent if that will make you feel better,” she said. “But what? Too much intimacy? I’m obviously out to stalk you? You’re obviously out to stalkme?I’m dating other men, remember? I’ve got a date on Saturday, and I’ll have one the Saturday after that, too, if Martin can find another victim. I have no illusions that I’m irresistible. Also, I’m not trusting at all. You realize that I can do a background check on you, right? Full disclosure: I asked Brett Hunter about you before I decided to ask you.”

“A background check?” he said. “Probably not. Not over in Australia. And bloody hell. How impulsive are you? And could we have this conversation some other time? Like when my kids aren’t watching from the ute?”