19
“I don’t know what I can tell you,” Cady admitted in a small voice.
Quinn watched her carefully for a minute. He’d been observing while she considered and seen the fear, the abject terror which played across her beautiful features. He’d understood her internal turmoil, and to hear her taking the risk, allowing him in, was something he’d suspected wouldn’t happen. “Why don’t I ask you some questions, and you can answer them?” he suggested gently. “If you find them too uncomfortable, you can tell me you don’t want to answer, and we can move on to something else.”
She twisted the material of her sweater between her fingers, rubbing back and forth across it while she considered. “All right,” she finally whispered.
Quinn picked up his coffee mug, determined to keep things casual and not
