I Got You, Babe (7 page)

“Ever put you in the hospital?”

She pondered that one, warning herself not to get too carried away. “Once.”

“Jesus.” He breathed the word with quiet exasperation. “Why didn’t you just tell me what was going on when you came into that diner? I could have—”

“No. You couldn’t have. My boyfriend’s huge, and he’s ugly, and he’s got this shaved head and these hideous tattoos, and he’s mean.
Really
mean. One look at him and nobody would have helped me, and I wouldn’t have blamed them.”

John screwed up his face. “And this guy is your boyfriend?”

She had to admit that did sound kind of moronic. She shrugged weakly. “Well, sometimes he can be really sweet, if he sets his mind to it.”

“Sweet?
Sweet?”
John sat up on the edge of the sofa, looking as if he wanted to rip his hair out. “What’s wrong with some of you women, anyway? You let a man use you as a punching bag, then tell the world how wonderful he is. I swear to God—”

He stopped short, then waved a hand in dismissal. “Never mind. It’s none of my business.” He got up from the sofa and reached for his coat. “I’m taking you home. Where do you live?”

She sighed, fiddling with a loose string on the sofa. “With my boyfriend.”

He stared at her dumbly for a moment, then let out a heavy sigh. “Do you have any friends you can stay with? Relatives?”

“Uh...we just moved here. I don’t know anybody.”

“Well, that’s just
great.”
He threw his coat back down on the sofa.

She turned her gaze up to meet his. “Do you think I could stay here tonight?”

“No. No way.”

“But—”

“I said no. I don’t want to get involved in this.”

“You’re not involved in anything. My boyfriend has no idea where I am. Let me stay here. Please.” She paused, sending him a wide-eyed look of utter helplessness, praying it would be enough to sway him. “I really don’t have anywhere else to go.”

He rolled his eyes a little, and after several seconds of tight-lipped glaring, he threw his arms up in resignation.

“Oh, hell. Why not? It’s a damn fool thing to do, but I might as well stick with the theme of the evening, right?”

She ducked her head submissively.
Mission accomplished.

“You can stay here tonight. But in the morning I’m taking you to the local authorities.”

Renee’s head shot up. “What?”

“You’re going to press charges.”

She felt a surge of panic. She sat up suddenly, shaking her head wildly. “No. You don’t understand. I can’t press charges. He’ll
kill
me if I go to the police—”

“He’ll kill you if you don’t. That’s the deal, sweetheart. Take it or leave it.”

Okay. So the world’s greatest lie had a flaw or two.

Renee decided she didn’t have any choice but to play along, even though she had no intention of getting within ten miles of a police station. At least for now, she was safe. She’d worry about tomorrow...tomorrow. After all, if she just flatly refused to go to the police, what could he do? Drag her there?

“Okay,” she said. “I will.”

John nodded brusquely and rose from the sofa. “It’s cold in here. I’ll make a fire.”

Without another word, he grabbed his coat and left the cabin.

Renee sat back on the sofa, relief spilling through her. She’d just told the most outrageous lie of her life, but her luck had held. Her nose hadn’t grown a foot and her pants hadn’t caught fire.

Spending the night alone with John still made her a little nervous, but at least now she had a better feel for the kind of man she was dealing with. A few times in the midst of her tragically sincere performance she saw a hint of compassion beneath his tough-guy demeanor, and instinctively knew she had nothing to fear from him.

Unless he found out she lied.

Chapter 4

T
he cold night wind hit John like a slap in the face, and it was a slap he needed badly. He hoped it would clear his head, make him see things more clearly, but as he strode to the woodpile, his brain still felt scrambled. Spending one hour with that woman had been like getting stuck on a roller coaster with no way off.

He glanced back through the window. She was sitting on the sofa, her knees pulled up to her chest and her chin resting on her knees, staring ahead blankly. An unexpected wave of protectiveness swept over him, followed by an even bigger wave of anger. The way she’d looked up at him with those big blue eyes had made him want to beat her abusive boyfriend to a bloody pulp. To make him think twice before he hurt a woman who couldn’t defend herself. To render him incapable of even
thinking
of raising a hand to—

Wait a minute.
Where was all this emotional-reaction crap coming from?

John let out a disgusted breath. All he had to do was look at her and he was back on that roller coaster again.

An emotionally involved cop isn’t worth a damn.

He wasn’t acting in a professional capacity here, but the warning was appropriate just the same. He turned around and headed to the woodpile, cursing himself for going nuts over something that was really pretty routine. Hadn’t he seen domestic abuse cases at least a hundred times before? Why was this particular woman making him crazy?

Because he knew what it felt like to kiss her.

The very thought that a man could find it more gratifying to inflict pain on that warm, beautiful body of hers rather than pleasure was completely beyond his understanding. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to go back into that cabin, take her in his arms, and spend the long hours of the night showing her how a man was supposed to treat a woman. To give her something to think about the next time a bastard like that boyfriend of hers decided to take out his aggression on her. To make her understand that for every guy like that, there were a thousand other guys who’d touch her in ways that fueled her daydreams rather than haunted her nightmares—

He yanked up a couple of logs from the woodpile, cursing himself again. He couldn’t believe it. He still wanted her. Even after everything she’d told him, he still wanted her. What did he think he was? Some kind of sexual social worker?

It would be nice to be able to blame this whole mess on her, but he knew he’d been playing with fire back at the diner, and he’d walked right into the flames anyway. This was a perfect example of what happened when he put the cop side of his brain on hold for any length of time. He stopped looking at things rationally and logically.

And started beating up paper-towel dispensers.

With new resolve, he strode back toward the cabin. He’d let her stay here tonight, because at this late hour it would be a pain in the ass to do anything else. Then tomorrow morning he’d deliver her to the local guys and suggest strongly that she give them a statement. Like most battered women, she’d probably refuse, but that wasn’t his problem. After that, he’d head back over to Harley’s place, see what Marva had cooking, and catch up on the local news of Winslow, Texas.

And if a beautiful woman wandered into the diner looking for a good time, he’d flash his badge like a cross in front of a vampire and suggest she take her sexual appetites elsewhere.

Renee watched as John built a fire, and by the way he thunked the logs into the fireplace, she could tell he was still angry. Well, maybe not angry, but at least annoyed, with a healthy dose of exasperation thrown in. He clearly wanted her out of his life as quickly as possible, and she didn’t blame him. In her desperation to elude Leandro and stay here tonight, she’d jerked him around every bit as much as he said she had. Fortunately, he had no idea he was
still
being jerked around, and she prayed he never found out.

“Are you hungry?” he asked her, his voice brusque and impersonal.

Hungry wasn’t the word for it. Starving was more like it.

“Uh…yeah. A little.”

He went to the kitchen, peered into the fridge, then rummaged through the cabinets. He came back with a sack of pretzels and a can of Coke.

“I’ve been eating at the diner the past couple of days. I don’t have much around here.”

“That’s okay,” she said, so hungry she'd have eaten the stuffing out of the sofa if he’d turned his back long enough. He handed her the pretzels and Coke, then mumbled something about taking a shower. He disappeared into the bathroom.

Renee munched on the pretzels, visions of pasta fuma and veal scaloppini dancing in her head. Italian food. That made her think of the restaurant where she worked. Or used to work. She sighed wistfully, thinking that if someone hadn’t tossed the loot and the weapon from an armed robbery into the backseat of her car, her biggest worry right now would be double-booked reservations, or a substandard bottle of Chianti.

Stop it. Stop thinking about the life you left behind. It'll only make you crazy.

She finished off most of the pretzels, then folded the top of the bag down and returned it to the kitchen along with the empty Coke can, promising herself a real meal the first chance she got. She collapsed on the sofa again, blinking slowly, mesmerized by the hypnotizing red-gold brightness of the fire and the muffled sound of shower spray coming from the bathroom.

In her sleepy state, the memory of how John had kissed her swam around in her mind, then oozed into other thoughts, more erotic thoughts, thoughts she’d have quelled in an instant if she hadn’t been so incredibly tired and if they hadn’t been so incredibly enticing.

She imagined him standing beneath the shower, his naked body surrounded by a surreal haze of steam, his muscles wet and glistening. She followed the bar of soap as he slid it down one arm and back up again, then across a broad chest, bubbles gathering in the smattering of hair there, only to get washed away by a pulsing spray of water. She saw him turning to let the spray massage his shoulders, rolling them once, twice, to ease the tension there. Then she closed her eyes and delved into truly uncharted territory.

She imagined slipping into the bathroom, easing the shower curtain aside, and meeting his startled gaze. She saw him pulling her into the shower in one smooth move, trapping her against the tile wall and kissing her, first ignoring the fact that she was still fully clothed, then remedying that situation in short order. In this particular daydream the hot water never ran out. They stood beneath the shower all night long making love in that glorious way people do when they only have eyes for each other.

Or so she’d heard.

She heard the squeak of the shower knobs, silencing the spray, then the soft clicking of the shower curtain rings as he pushed the curtain aside. A few minutes later the bathroom door opened and John emerged, steam clouding up behind him as it hit the cool air of the main room. She stared at him dumbly, finding it hard to catch a good, solid breath. Where this man’s body was concerned, her daydream had been more like a premonition.

He wore a pair of jeans. Only a pair of jeans. His feet and chest were bare. He was towel-drying his hair. And to her surprise, he’d shaved. He’d been handsome before, but something about his clean-shaven face and the fact that he was currently half-naked really got her attention. She compulsively inspected every square inch of his body, from his broad, muscled chest to those rock-solid arms that had been laced around her less than half an hour before, all the way down to his bare feet, which she found inexplicably appealing. His
feet,
for God’s sake. She couldn’t remember ever thinking a man’s feet were sexy, but she sure was thinking it now.

When her gaze traveled back up again, she saw that he’d stopped drying his hair and was staring at her. All at once she realized how long her visual tour of his body had taken, and how obvious it was that she’d been gaping at him. She looked away and ran a hand nervously through her hair. Her cheeks grew warm, and she hoped she wasn’t blushing.

John went to a closet, pulled out a worn flannel shirt, and put it on. He tossed the towel back into the bathroom, then buttoned the length of his shirt as he walked over to her.

“That sofa is a Hide-A-Bed,” he told her. “The only bed.”

Renee had figured as much, since she didn’t see a bedroom, but still she’d hoped that maybe this was a remote Holiday Inn and any minute a bellboy would be bringing in a roll-away.

“And I don’t think you’re any more eager to sleep on the floor than I am.”

“You mean...you want us both to sleep here?”

“Look, if I’d wanted to take advantage of you, don’t you think I’d have done it by now? You stay on your side, I’ll stay on mine, and we’ll both be comfortable. Any problem with that?”

Yes.
She had a big problem with it. She’d just been admiring him with the intensity of an astronomer who’d discovered a new celestial body, and now she was supposed to sleep with him? She could deal with her erotic thoughts as long as they were vertical, but horizontally she wasn’t so sure.

“No. No problem.”

She got up from the sofa. He tossed the cushions aside and pulled out the bed, then got two pillows out of the closet. For its being such a big sofa, she was amazed at how small the bed version of it appeared to be.

John lifted the covers on his side, lay down, and slid beneath them. Renee approached the bed tentatively, then kicked off her shoes and lay down on the other side, thinking that if he was beneath the covers maybe she’d better stay on top.

“The fire will die before morning,” he told her. “You’ll get cold like that.”

She paused a moment, then decided that after everything that had happened it would seem pretty ungrateful to imply that she didn’t trust him. She slipped beneath the blankets. He turned out the lamp on the table beside the sofa and lay back on his pillow. Left with nothing but firelight, the room took on a lazy, golden glow. And even though they lay a foot apart, it wasn’t long before the heat from John’s body mingled with hers.

“Alice?”

John’s voice, deep and melodious, broke the silence. It took Renee a moment to realize he was calling her by the phony name she’d given him.