Rattled (10 page)

She gave him a cautious smile. “I think I like that rule.”

“Second, stop trying so hard. Look, the step is easy. One and two, one and two.” He demonstrated and she started following along. “Simple, right?”

She nodded, still looking down at their feet. The singer, a woman in her 50s with a petite body and a huge voice, sang a sultry song about loss. Drew settled Erin in a little closer. “Now listen to the music, feel the rhythm. You don’t have to watch my feet, just listen. In fact, close your eyes.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide, and her steps faltered. He smiled. “Trust me.”

She hesitated, but finally got in step again and closed her eyes, her face tight with concentration.

“Feel my hand under your shoulder blade?” When she nodded, he added, “That’s how I guide you. Don’t try to guess where I’m going to go. Just relax and feel my hand.”

She was starting to get it, although he could tell she was far from relaxed. Her hand clung to his in a death grip, though she probably wasn’t aware of it. Her closed eyes meant he could study her face from inches away. He could see the makeup over her bruises, starting to crack now in the dry air. He remembered her lying in the ditch, pale as death, and felt cold.

“You’re doing great,” he whispered.

Her lashes fluttered, but she kept her eyes closed. Her lips curved.

He was tempted to touch his mouth to hers, just to see how she’d react. She’d probably jerk back and lose her step. He thought he was starting to figure her out, though he suspected more layers under the surface. He had a feeling, not quite comfortable, that she’d never fit into one of his categories. She might not suspect it, but like her friend Camie, she was one of a kind.

The song ended. Erin opened her eyes and her smile blossomed. “I did the two-step!”

“Yes you did.” He used that as an excuse to give her a celebratory hug. “It’s a good thing your bad finger is on the right. This didn’t hurt it, did it?”

She glanced at the hand resting on his shoulder. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Good. This song’s a little faster. But you’re doing so well, you can try it with your eyes open if you like.” He smiled as he picked up the quick beat and was pleased to see the answering look of attraction in her eyes.

Soon they were moving around the dance floor easily. They passed close to Camie and her partner, and the two women exchanged brilliant smiles. Drew wondered if Erin had any idea that she looked just as beautiful as Camie when she smiled with such excitement. He doubted it. He hadn’t seen an ounce of vanity in her, or even the confidence she had a right to.

The band started a slower song. Drew tried a few turns, moving himself rather than Erin so she wouldn’t get flustered. When she didn’t falter, he tried guiding her in a couple of easy moves, turning her under their joined hands first in one direction, then the other. She seemed relaxed now, moving with the music and the slight pressure of his guiding hand.

The music picked up again. Erin had no trouble matching the rhythm and hadn’t looked at her feet in 10 minutes. Drew spun her out and pulled her back in. She kept her footing and her gasp turned into a laugh. The music built to a crescendo. Drew spun Erin out, pulled her in tight, and dropped her into a dip. Her eyes widened and she squealed. It was adorable—until the pain flashed over her face and she went white.

He pulled her up and held her steady. “What’s wrong, did I hurt you?”

She cradled her damaged hand in the good one. “Not your fault,” she gasped. “I just jammed my finger.”

Drew led her to the edge of the dance floor as the band announced a break. “It is my fault. I should have been more careful.”

“No, I was having a great time. The best time I’ve had in—” She gave a self-conscious chuckle. “I’m embarrassed to say how long.”

“Good.” He stroked a hand down her arm. “Then we’ll do it again sometime.”

She gazed at him, her wide eyes looking greener than before, then gave a little nod before looking down. “I should go home now, though. I didn’t realize how tired I was getting, and I think I’ll take a real painkiller tonight.” She ran her good hand through her hair. “I need to let the cat out too. He doesn’t have a litter box.”

“You came with Camie?”

Erin nodded and looked around. Camie was leaning against the edge of the small stage, chatting with the singer.

“She’s still having a good time,” Drew said. “Wouldn’t want to cut short her evening. I’ll take you home.”

Before Erin could reply, he took her arm and led her toward the stage. “Erin needs to go home,” Drew told Camie. “I’ll take her. You stay and have fun.”

Erin was staring at him, her mouth opening and closing slightly as if trying to decide whether to argue. Camie didn’t hesitate, though. “Great! I wouldn’t want to miss the next set. I’ve just been putting in a request.” She and Drew exchanged satisfied smiles and he had the feeling he’d passed some sort of test.

“Good night.” Drew kept a hold of Erin’s arm and started to lead her away. Camie leaned in and whispered something to her, but he couldn’t catch it. Drew took the side door out into the night and led Erin to his truck. He wondered just how good this night was going to get

Erin climbed into the big cab and fastened her seatbelt, trying to catch her breath while Drew rounded the truck. She couldn’t believe he was taking her home. It had happened so fast that she still wasn’t sure quite
how
it had happened. Camie had whispered, “Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you.” Did that mean she’d decided he couldn’t have been involved in the accident? What had Camie seen that Erin had missed?

She gave Drew a wary smile as he got in and started the truck. She thought back over the evening. The memory of Mitchell made her shiver. One thing seemed clear, though. He and Drew couldn’t be working together. Not men who were so different, and she couldn’t imagine either of them taking orders from the other.

That should have been comforting. She didn’t feel all that comfortable. Had this somehow turned into a date? She felt like she’d spent the whole evening missing everything going on around her and saying stupid things like that comment about the litter box. Sheesh, how sexy was that? She didn’t even have alcohol as an excuse.

“You’ll need to give me some directions,” Drew said.

Erin realized they had left the Plaza and were waiting for the light on Main Street. “Oh, right. Uh, left, rather. Turn left here, and then right after the grocery store. That connects with the frontage road.”

He made the turn. “We’re heading out towards where I found you.”

“That’s right. I was only a couple of blocks from home.”

He kept his eyes on the road, so she had a chance to watch him as street lights and shadow played across his face. He looked grim. Erin wondered if she was missing something again. Speak up, she told herself. You want to know something, you ask. Right? Right.

She cleared her throat. He passed the grocery store and turned right. She cleared her throat again. He glanced her way. She took a big breath and said in a rush, “Is everything all right?”

He looked away as he made a left turn onto the frontage road. “Sure, why?”

“You just look so serious.” It came out in a whisper. Good grief, she told herself, you stood up to Mitchell. Talking to a man who’s been so nice shouldn’t be hard.

Maybe it wouldn’t be, if he weren’t so handsome that he made her heart flutter every time she looked at him. No, handsome wasn’t even the right word. Mitchell was handsome. Drew was sexy. He had a kind of rugged, essential maleness that made a woman want to forget her morals and strip off her clothes. And that sex appeal was wrapped in a quiet kindness that pulled at the heart. Who could blame her if she made a fool of herself over a man like that?

He said nothing for two blocks. Then, still looking straight out the front windshield, he said, “I just don’t like remembering you hurt.”

She felt that odd melting sensation, like her bones had suddenly gone limp. Good Lord, she could fall for him and fall hard. Camie had said he wouldn’t hurt her. But Camie had been talking about car accidents and break-ins, not her heart.

Erin studied Drew’s profile from the corner of her eye. How did he feel, really? He was taking her home. He’d danced with her, half a dozen songs in a row. That had to mean he liked her, right? He’d made her feel special that evening, but did it mean anything to him? Or was he just doing another kindness to the poor woman he’d pulled out of a ditch?

She stared ahead through the windshield. Maybe he’d kiss her. Then she’d know. Her eyes shifted toward him, though she didn’t move her head. Her heart beat faster at the thought of kissing him, his arms around her again. She almost moaned aloud at the thought. She caught herself and said, “We go about three miles.”

Would it be on the porch? In the car? What if he wanted to come in? What if he expected her to sleep with him tonight?

Her glance this time was suspicious. He turned his head to meet it and his lips curved.

Erin jerked her gaze back to the windshield, her hands clenched in her lap. They drove down the long, quiet road. A train whistle sounded in the distance. In a few blocks, she’d know what he expected. Erin’s heart hammered. How should she act—cheerful and friendly, or should she make a stab at trying to be seductive? The first was safer, but the second might let him know it was all right to kiss her, if she didn’t blow it and make a complete fool of herself.

She frowned at her own thoughts. What was wrong with her? She was giving him all the power. Waiting. Reacting. She wasn’t a silly little schoolgirl—though come to think of it, from what she saw at the college, girls 10 years her junior were perfectly capable of deciding what they wanted and taking it.

She didn’t have to wait for him to make the first move or to decide what the moves were. She could take control. She could go after what she wanted.

Oh God, what did she want?

They were almost home. “Take the next right, under the streetlight.” Her voice sounded husky.

They turned down her street. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to feel his arms around her again. More than that, she didn’t have to decide right away. But she liked him, and if she didn’t let him know, he might slip away. It wasn’t like he didn’t have choices. She was supposed to be growing stronger, more assertive, not playing games. She liked him. She could let him know that. Right? Right.

They were only half a block from her house. “The white two-story on the left,” she whispered.

He pulled into her driveway and turned off the ignition. Good. He wasn’t simply going to drop her off and drive away. Should she turn to him in the car or wait for the porch? As she hesitated, he opened his door. The porch, then.

What if he expected to come in? What if he expected—oh God. She fumbled for the seatbelt with trembling hands. By the time she’d freed herself, he had her door open. She slid out of the big truck and smiled, glad this back street had no streetlights. Maybe he wouldn’t see her nerves. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He turned and started up the walk beside her.

Should she invite him in? No, she didn’t think she could stand the stress. She’d turn to him on the porch, tell him she had a wonderful evening. She’d stretch up and kiss him—lightly, no expectations, just a friendly invitation. Her mind raced over the plan as her heart pounded. She took a deep breath. She could do this.

She put her foot up on the first porch step. Something moved low in the shadows.

Erin hesitated. Tiger stalked forward into the dim glow of the porch light, yowling complaints.

Erin went cold. She was quite certain she’d left him inside, with all the doors and windows closed.

How had he gotten out of the house?

Drew crouched and ran a hand over Tiger’s back. “Well hey there, fellow.” Tiger gave a rumbling purr and head-butted Drew’s knee. Drew chuckled and glanced up at Erin. He shot to his feet and grabbed her arm. “What’s wrong?”

“He shouldn’t be out,” she whispered. “I left him inside.”

Drew glanced at Tiger and then the house. “A window, maybe?”

“No, everything was closed and locked. Since the break-in—”

His hand tightened on her arm. “What break-in? When?”

“The night I was in the hospital. The police said probably someone found out I was gone, but—” She shook her head. She didn’t have to get into all that. But she remembered the officer’s warning. “They said sometimes burglars come back. I haven’t had any expensive electronics delivered or anything, but what if they came back?”

“Give me your key and go wait in the truck. Lock the doors.”

“No, we can call the police! Let them search.” She was trembling, too panicked even to feel foolish about the waves of anxiety that rolled over her. They had come back. They might have found the book this time. They might still be inside. They might hurt Drew. They might come after her, hurt her again. She didn’t know what scared her most, but she was not going to sit in the truck waiting while Drew went in.

“Erin—” Drew sighed, the sound of a man impatient with a woman’s foolish fears. But he gathered her close and stroked her back. “We can do that if you want. But it will mean waiting a while—maybe hours. How do you think the police will react if you tell them you’re worried because your cat got out?”