Knock Me Off My Feet

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Detective Stacey Quinn stood in the shadows of the television studio and watched her. She glowed in a proper pink suit jacket that reminded him of frosting on a party cupcake. Her hands were folded primly on the desk in front of her.

That voice, however, came from a full, luscious mouth that was anything but prim and proper, and he listened to the flow of it-honey-smooth, rich, and god-awful sexy.

With those lovely lips, she spoke of the best way to remove water spots from glassware, and the detective felt his pulse quicken.

Could it be that here she was at last-the woman of his fantasies, the woman his brothers claimed could not possibly exist? Could it be that this woman under the studio lights was one part Martha Stewart to one part Carmen Electra?

"Unfortunately, the spots may be tiny pits in the glass itself." She smiled sadly, sharing the heartbreak of scratched stemware with her fans. "So if this trick doesn't work, then I assure you, nothing will."

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