“Yes, thank you, Mark.”
“How’s your hip?” I picked up the remote and turned on the TV. The last fifteen minutes of the parade were being aired. “Do you want to put your legs up?”
“My hip is fine, and no, I’m quite all right like this.”
“Are you sure?”
My fussing over her amused her. “I’m very sure, Mark. I could do with a glass of wine, though.”
“Okay. C’mon, Quinn. You can take out the hors d’oeuvres. I’ll go get the wine.”
He followed me into the dining room, where I’d found space for not only a wine cooler but a wine rack as well.
“Quinn, the hors d’oeuvres are in the—” Before I could tell him they were in the fridge, he pulled my mouth down to his and started kissing me stupid. “Huh?”
“Thank you.”
“What? What for?”
“For being so concerned about my mother.” His lips caressed m
