“No,” she said tightly, “you didn’t.”
“I never do that. I’m always careful. I would have told you that right away if you’d stuck around last night instead of locking yourself in your apartment to avoid me.”
Suzanne bit her lip and said nothing.
“We were given constant checkups in the Navy and I never had any problems. And anyway I have a rare blood type,” he continued. “I donate blood every three months and they test the blood every time. I’m clean and I haven’t had sex for six months so there’s no chance at all of you catching something from me.”
She opened her mouth then closed it. Where was the nearest door so she could beat her head against it? She hadn’t thought of disease, not once. How crazy was that, in this day and age? The man clearly messed with her head. “I’m…okay, too.”
“Yes, you surely are,” he said, his voice low and husky, a trace of… something in his voice. Was that a slight southern accent? “Except maybe here.”
He reached out with a big hand and touched her gently on the neck, where he’d given her a love bite. He had eyes that could see right through her concealer.
“I wish I could say I’m sorry, but I’m not. Not about any of it.” He stroked her neck as she tried really, really hard not to shiver in delight, and then dropped his hand.
So much for makeup, she thought. She’d reached the front door and had her hand on the door handle. Blessed relief lay on the other side of that door and she looked at the handle longingly.
John laid a large palm against the door, holding it shut. “I want to know the second your period is late.” It was said in such a commanding tone, she almost instinctively replied Aye aye, sir.
At least she had an answer for that one.
“Oh no, um, I had some…problems. I wasn’t—“ Suzanne drew in a deep breath and tried to gather her thoughts and the few shreds of dignity left to her. “I take the Pill,” she said finally. “So that’s not a problem.”
“The Pill? Jesus.“ A slow smile stole across his hard face. “That’s great news. Next time we have sex I can come inside you again.”
There won’t be a next time. The sharp words were on the tip of her tongue when she heard a car horn tooting impatiently outside. She glanced at her watch and started.
“That’s my taxi. I have to go.”
“Taxi?” The smile disappeared, wiped out instantly. “What taxi? Why are you taking a taxi? What’s the matter with your car?”
Good question. Suzanne sighed. “I don’t know. It’s at the car hospital. It was making these…these wheezing sounds and stalling at traffic lights. My car’s a real lemon and it’s always at the garage. I took it in yesterday and they said it should be ready by tonight.”
“Choking, stalling. Sounds like the carburetor went. Who’s ’they’?”
“The garage. Owned by a real creep named Murphy.” Just saying the guy’s name made her angry. Sully Murphy was a big fat lazy slob who used his bulk to intimidate her into spending a fortune every time her car fell apart. Which was often.
The taxi driver put his hand on the horn and kept it there.
Suzanne pulled uselessly at the door handle. “I have to go now.”
John was frowning down at her, his big hand still on the door. She sighed. “John, I really need to get going or I’ll be late for a work appointment.”
“What’s the name of the garage?”
“Why on earth do you want to know—“ His frown deepened and she threw up her hands. “Okay, okay, it’s Murphy’s Rental and Repair. On 14th and Green.”
“Give me the keys to your car. I’ll make sure you get it back today and I’ll make sure they did a decent repair job. This is no weather to be driving around in a car with a faulty carburetor.” He took his hand off the door and held it out, palm up. “I’ll park your car out front.”
Suzanne hesitated, but the truth was, she had a busy day ahead of her and it would be helpful if someone could pick the car up for her. And maybe Sully Murphy wouldn’t try to snow John with arcane mechanical details in an attempt to cheat her, as he usually did with her. He sure wouldn’t try to intimidate John.
Not and live.
One thing she’d learned—when it came to cars, it was still very much a man’s world. If John showed up, Murphy would probably give her a big discount. Maybe treat her better from now on, thinking she had some muscle behind her.
“Okay.” She dug in her purse and dropped the keys into his outstretched hand. “Tell Murphy I’ll stop by tomorrow to pay. And thanks.” The taxi driver was playing ‘shave and a haircut’ on the horn. “I really, really have to go now.”
John followed her out, flipping up his jacket collar against the cold dampness. He kept a big hand on her elbow down the sidewalk right up to the taxi. He gave the taxi driver a long look as he opened the back seat door for her. But before she could climb in and slam the door shut, he stepped in front of her. She looked longingly at the cab then back up at him.
“I need to get in,” she said. Low sullen clouds spat a few drops. “The meter’s running and it’s starting to rain.”
“In a minute.” He ignored the rain, which started to fall, harder and faster by the second. “I have to go out of town today and I won’t be back until late. But we have to talk. Tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. Great. She could handle tomorrow. She just couldn’t handle today.
He pulled a pad from the inside pocket of his jacket and scribbled something down.
“This is my cell number, just in case you need me.” He held it out to her. She took it and their hands touched. His skin was rough. She remembered his hand touching her…Trembling, she jammed the scrap of paper into her planner. “Okay.”
He nodded grimly and stepped aside. “Where are you going?”
“What—now?”
“Yeah. Now.”
“Downtown. Salmon Street. What are you doing?” she hissed as she slid in.
John ignored her, and laid a big arm along the top of the roof and rapped his fist sharply on the metal. The taxi driver buzzed the window down. “Yeah? You want something, bud?” he asked, bored.
John bent down and flipped the sun visor, looking hard at the taxi driver ID, and then transferring that hard look to the driver. “Listen up, Harris. The lady wants to go downtown to Salmon Street. She doesn’t want to take a tour of Portland’s suburbs and she wants to be there in ten minutes. Is that clear?” He had on his warrior face and it wasn’t a face you talked back to.
“Yessir,” the taxi driver answered, wide-mouthed. John stared at him for another long moment then slapped his hand on the roof and stepped back.
“Okay, then.”
The driver took off like a bat out of hell and Suzanne didn’t have the courage to look back. But she could see perfectly well in the driver’s rear view mirror. John stood smack in the middle of the street, big as a mountain and looking just as immovable. He watched, scowling, in the rain as the taxi pulled away.
Men.
Women.
Why the hell hadn’t she asked him to drive her, if her car was in the garage? Why call a taxi when she could call him? He’d gladly drive her to freaking Iceland, if she asked.
He knew why she hadn’t asked. For the same reason she kept trying to slither away from him.
Jesus, he’d handled that badly. He’d meant to smooth Suzanne’s ruffled feathers, reassure her that he was an okay guy, not some crazed sex maniac, because that was what she obviously thought. It was true that he’d been obsessed with the idea of taking her to bed since he’d first laid eyes on her, but he wasn’t an animal.