Hart To Hart (5 page)

She waved a hand. “It’s okay. I know him.” When she slid off the stool, her knees buckled, but Vic was able to hold her up. Jesus. What had happened? Had she received another message?

He wrapped an arm around her waist. “What room are you in?”

“Three twenty-two.” She looked up at him. “I think.”

God. Vic dropped a twenty on the bar, slung her purse over her shoulder, and led her out. Once he loaded her in the elevator and pushed the button, she stepped close and placed her cheek against his chest. His ex-wife never would have leaned against him unless she’d had too much to drink. He inhaled her flowery scent and his cock stiffened. Damn. She hadn’t changed her perfume since they’d divorced. Every time he saw a gardenia, he thought of her. Her hand clutched his jacket.

“You smell good,” she mumbled, her lips against his chest.

Stay strong
.

“We’re almost there. Put one foot in front of the other.” El staggered and he tightened his hold. “Easy.”

Vic slipped the purse from over her shoulder and located the keycard. Once he swiped it, and the light turned green, he led her in. The room had a queen-sized bed, a small table with two chairs, a dresser, and a small flat screen TV. He set her purse on the table and walked her to the bed.

El dropped down on the edge, her eyes glassy. “I think I might have had too much to drink.”

That was an understatement. He wanted to ask her why she saw fit to get drunk, but that would only anger her. “Could be.”

She kicked off her shoes, one at a time, like she used to do, and the second one went sailing and hit the chair leg. She giggled and fell back on the bed. Oh, boy. It was time to take over.

“Let me help you.” Vic sat her up and slipped off her sweater.

“You trying to get me naked?” When she looked up at him and grinned, his heart nearly stopped.

Chapter Four

V
ic looked good—strong,
sexy, and so fucking exciting. If only Ellie could stay awake long enough, she might chance a quick taste. That would be good. He’d always been the best kisser.

She hiccupped. Well, that wasn’t sexy. The alcohol was making her light-headed and was cutting through all of her filters.

Her inner self warred. Most likely she’d be back in Virginia in a week, so what harm could come if they had a quick romp? Vic always was good in bed. She debated for a few seconds about what she should do and couldn’t come up with one good reason why she shouldn’t attack his body.

“You have any pajamas?” He glanced around as if she’d have tossed them on the chair or something.

Test him
. “Pajamas? I sleep naked.” She quickly closed her eyes to prevent him from detecting the lie. Vic always said the eyes held the truth.

“Since when?”

Damn him. Ellie looked up and smiled. “Since tonight.” She giggled then slapped a hand over her mouth.

“All right. We’ll play it your way.” He leaned over, unsnapped and unzipped her pants then slid them off. Then he lifted her pullover over her head, treating her like she was ten.

Ellie slapped his hands away. “I can do the rest.” When she reached around to undo her bra, Vic turned his back. So much for seduction. After fumbling to get the damn thing undone, she gave up and just lifted it up and over her tits. Then she ripped it over her head and tossed her bra on the floor, hoping to get at least a smile out of him, but Vic could act stoic with the best of them. Ellie slipped under the covers. “It’s safe to look now.”

He turned around, picked up her bra, folded it, and placed it on top of the dresser. He said nothing as he sat in the chair opposite the bed. “Go to sleep.”

Wha-at? This wasn’t how she’d pictured it. And why was he so far away? Shouldn’t he be trying to crawl into bed with her? “Why are you here anyway?”

“I learned a few things, but I’ll tell you in the morning.” He dragged over the other chair and propped his feet on it.

“What was that?” She recalled he’d asked Amy to do something, but she couldn’t remember what it was.

“You won’t remember if I tell you now. Things will be clearer in the morning.”

He was probably right. She waited a beat, expecting him to leave, but he crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. “You’re staying?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He opened his eyes and blew out a breath. “For starters, I don’t trust the man at the bar not to come up here. Secondly, I don’t trust you won’t go down stairs and cause more trouble.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I wouldn’t do that.”
Or would I?

“Sleep.”

“What if I’m not ready to sleep?”

Vic had been her husband. There was nothing wrong with having a bit of sex to make this trip worthwhile, right? Sure, she might have had too much to drink, and her brain was a bit fizzed—or was it fuzzed?—but having those hands on her body again would be so nice. They were two adults. Consensual sex was fine, just as long as he didn’t expect anything the next day.

“Try,” he answered sounding amused.

Well, fine. Be that way. There was more than one way to skin the proverbial cat. She sat up and let the cover drop to her waist. Vic stared at her nipples and they hardened under his glare. She waited for him to do something, but he didn’t move. He wanted her, didn’t he?

Fuck. Maybe he didn’t. She was old and fat. “Vic?”

He stood and walked over to the bed, his gaze now on her face. Ellie’s heart slammed hard against her ribs as he leaned over and turned off the light. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

Talk? She didn’t want to talk. “Why are you doing this, Vic?”

From his heavy footsteps, he was returning to his chair. When he didn’t answer, her heart hardened. Well, damn.

*     *     *

Vic barely slept
all night. The image of El’s perfect breasts had been burned into his brain, keeping his mind active. Sure, she’d drunk too much, but it shouldn’t have been enough for her to lose all of her inhibitions. Or had it? When she’d left his office, and again at lunch, she acted as if she could barely stand him. Then all of a sudden, she has a few drinks, and she wants to have sex with him?

Something must have happened in those few hours to make her change her mind, but what? Perhaps she’d spoken with Charlotte, or maybe she’d called Wendy and her friend had convinced El to enjoy herself while she was in Montana. But why? If Wendy was the stalker, did she hope El could distract him into not working on the case? That made less sense than El’s actions. Shit, but he needed some strong coffee.

Hmm. Did her best friend have designs on the gallery? If El moved out to Montana, Wendy could slip in and run the place. That had potential. Then again, so did all the other suspects.

Christ. He needed to wake up. Vic had battled with himself all night about whether he should have taken her up on her offer, but he respected her too much to take advantage of her in an inebriated state.

Light had already eased around the edges of the curtain. Vic probably should leave, but he didn’t want her to wake up alone. He was quite confident she’d feel like shit, and having someone near might help lessen the incessant pounding.

As soon as she remembered showing him her breasts, she’d be mortified, and he wanted to assure her she was safe with him. What he wouldn’t tell her was that it would take every ounce of his military training to keep his distance.

El moaned, and Vic sat up. If he thought she’d sleep another few hours, he’d have gone in search of some aspirin and coffee. She groaned, rolled onto her back, and had the wherewithal to keep the covers up to her neck. She licked her lips and his body woke up.

Her eyes cracked open as she lifted onto her elbows. “What are you doing here?”

How much did she remember? “I wanted to make sure you’d be okay.”

“Am I?”

He chuckled. “You’re alive. That’s a good thing.” El never was a morning person. “How about you take a shower while I order us some breakfast?”

“What happened?” she said, her voice muffled.

“You might have had a bit too much to drink.”

She looked around the bed, probably for her clothes. “I vaguely remember some guy in a suit. Or did I imagine him? God, but I feel like shit.”

“You were laughing and enjoying yourself with him at the bar last night.”

“Did I really? Can you bring me something to put on?”

When they were first married, she liked when he’d pick out her clothes. God, but he’d fucked things up since those blissful days. At least he had Charlotte on his side again. His beautiful daughter had been quick to forgive. While she looked so much like El, the two were very different.

“Sure.” He stepped over to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer.

Damn. Why was everything all lacy and pretty? The colors were soft—pinks, yellow, virginal white. He closed his eyes for a moment then plucked out a pair of pink panties and a white bra. He didn’t want them to match. From the next drawer, he chose a pair of worn jeans, a T-shirt, and a sweater that seemed too big. That should do nicely.

He gathered them in his arms and walked over to the bed. “Get dressed and I’ll head downstairs and find us some food. After you shower, I want to show you something.”

“What?”

“You’ll see.”

Vic couldn’t leave fast enough. If he didn’t, he’d be tempted to slide in next to her, bite her bottom lip, and then lick her silly, but he’d have to relegate that joy to his dreams.

*     *     *

When the door
shut, Ellie plastered her clothes to her chest, placed her feet on the floor, and rushed to the bathroom. The throbbing in her temple increased to the point where she feared her brain might bleed. She set the clothes on the counter and leaned over the sink, praying for some relief.
Dear Lord, what have I done?

Her mouth tasted like dirt and gravel. She couldn’t remember drinking this much. Ever. What had she been thinking? Clearly, she hadn’t been.

When she’d first woken up, she couldn’t believe Vic was in her room. Here she thought she’d actually dreamed him. Then the image of some guy in a suit talking to her at the bar entered her brain. Next thing she remembered was Vic tugging off her pants and shirt. The final memory was her sitting up in bed and showing him her tits. Could this get any worse? Now, he’d believe she wanted him.

Okay, she did in a way. Actually, what she’d wanted was a pleasant experience to dampen the nightmare, but in her drunken state, she hadn’t realized that if she had given into her carnal desires that it would complicate matters too much. Charlotte had been hurt once, and Ellie didn’t need to make things worse.

She turned on the water and stepped into the shower. Even though she washed her hair vigorously and scrubbed her body hard, no amount of heat or cleaning could take away the embarrassment of her practically propositioning Vic. Jeez, she was a mess.

Now what was she supposed to do? He had to realize that she found him attractive. She’d admit that when he was near, she felt safe, but that wouldn’t be enough in the long run. Keeping her distance was the only option, mostly because she needed to give Vic space to focus on finding this guy. He didn’t need her to upset the balance of his life.

The room door opened and feet shuffled. “Be right out,” she called.

For a split second, she thought perhaps someone else might have come into her room until she realized Vic would have stopped anyone from getting near.

“Food’s ready,” he called out.

She smiled—but sobered instantly when a sharp ache stabbed her eye. His comment implied she had to hurry. Vic hated when food wasn’t piping hot, whereas she could take it any temperature. They had more differences than similarities, but those first years of marriage had been idyllic. Her hand went to her belly. When they’d found out she was pregnant, Vic had gone crazy with joy. He couldn’t wait to feel the baby kick and even insisted on singing to Charlotte before she was born. When their daughter was three, he was deployed to Afghanistan. When he returned, he was never the same.

She stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and dressed. Thinking about the good old days wouldn’t help her sanity one bit. She dressed as quickly as she could, not caring that her damp hair stuck out. She opened the door and the rich aroma of food almost made her gag. Her stomach was not ready to eat, but she knew she had to try.