Chapter 132

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Quinn hung up his overcoat in a closet by his front door and extended his hand for mine.

I stared at him for a minute, then handed it to him and turned quickly away so I wouldn’t reveal how that simple action had gotten to me. Had he felt the same way when I’d held his coat for him to put on the other night? The night he’d brought me champagne to celebrate my promotion, and we had wound up ma—fucking on my bed?

“I…I think I’ll make an early night of it, Quinn.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday, Mark. I assume even WBIS agents get the weekend off on occasion.”

I gave him a look. Maybe that’s how they did it in the CIA, but we were always on call.

He sighed. “Have you had dinner?”

“Yeah.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Well, I grabbed something at the reception.” He looked disappointed. “The food sucked.”

“It’s a shame you weren’t at the affair the Company threw for New Year’s Eve. The food was amazing.” For a second he looked wistful. Was he thinking of Kane Flint? Dammit.