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Part 4: Trouble

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They say you can't die of embarrassment, but Lucy wasn't too sure about that. "It's good to meet you, Aiden. I'll be back in a flash," she said, wincing as soon as she said it. Oh God. Kill me now.

She gingerly backed up the stairs; keenly aware that if she turned around, Quinn's brother would be given a view of her bare derrière.

Quinn looked like he was trying desperately not to laugh. "You're going to trip going up backwards. Hold on," he said, coming up the stairs behind her and blocking the view so she could turn and walk up the stairs properly. Not that Aiden would have seen anything anyway; he had turned around to give her some privacy.

"I really love this outfit, I wish you'd wear it more often," Quinn said when they reached the bedroom. 'Oh my God," Lucy whisper-shouted, her face on fire. "Why didn't you tell me your brother was coming to town today? I thought it was next week?"

"So did I," Quinn said, no longer able to hold back the laughter. "I got the dates wrong. Why are you naked right now? Not that I mind."

"I didn't think anyone was here but us and there was a sauce incident." She quickly told him the story.

She was tidying the kitchen after Quinn cooked dinner, while he worked on his TV scripts in the living room. They had a natural division of labour; she never minded cleaning and tidying, preferring to hand wash dishes rather than use the dishwasher. Their deal was that he would cook (of course he would) and she would clean up afterwards, which suited them both. Not that she had much to clean; as a professional chef, he kept his kitchen spotless and tidied as he went.

That night's dinner was something quick because they'd spent so much time in bed that afternoon — and on the couch, and the floor. To Quinn, 'something quick' meant roast pumpkin soup with spiced crème fraîche, homemade tagliatelle alla Bolognese and strawberries soaked in champagne, sprinkled with crushed, toasted pistachios.

Watching Quinn work was like watching a virtuoso musician at the symphony. She loved sitting at the kitchen island, glass of wine in hand, while he conjured up the most beautiful meals from thin air. Despite owning a restaurant, she could barely boil water.

After the decadent dinner, she had been carrying a pot of the leftover Bolognese sauce from the stove to put away when she stubbed her toe on the chair and splashed the dark red tomato sauce all over her clothes, knocking a pan off the counter while she was at it. She cursed and put the pot down, cleaning herself up as best she could. Giving up, she went to the small laundry room just off the kitchen and decided to throw her clothes right into the washer to try and save her favourite, soft fleece sweatshirt and leggings from being stained forever. The sauce had soaked right through to her underwear.

With the washer started, she stood bare-assed in the laundry room feeling frustrated and ridiculous. Naked Sunday indeed, she thought, shaking her head. Then, she wondered. Was she brave enough? Might as well have some fun with the situation. She would be bold. She would be fearless. She was about to stroll into the living room stark naked when she heard it — a stranger's voice.

Horrified, she hid out in the kitchen hoping the person would leave. When she realized who it was, she grabbed the apron and tried unsuccessfully to sneak up the stairs.

"Well, I've flashed your brother," she concluded. "This thing between us has been fun but clearly, it's over. I'll have to move out of town immediately, assume a new identity, and start a new life. I can never talk to you or any member of your family ever again. I'm sorry, goodbye forever."

"Come here." Quinn held out his arms and after a moment, she went to him. "Aiden's seen it all, he's a cop. And you didn't flash him — all the important bits were covered up. All he saw was someone looking very cute, and very embarrassed. Come on back down and talk to my brother. I'm excited he's here. You'll love him."

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