Irresistible. Сьюзен Мэллери
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“A good day.”
They each took a sip. She doubted he was used to drinking anything this cheap, but she refused to apologize for her choice. It fit her budget and it wasn’t too bad.
“You like color,” he said, glancing around at the living room.
“I do,” she said. “The landlord doesn’t care if I paint the walls or put up drapes.”
“Sure. You’re taking on all the costs and the labor. What’s not to like?”
“You should see Zoe’s room. It’s princess central. I painted a mural that looks like a castle. Everything is either lavender or pink. Very girly. You probably had an all blue room.”
“I think there were some green accents. But yeah, it was all boy.”
“Why did you go into the military?” she asked. “Lifelong dream?”
“I’d thought about it,” he told her. “I didn’t know if I wanted to go to college. My parents died when I was young, so my grandmother raised me. She’s a tough old bird.”
“Like Mrs. Ford.”
He looked at her. “Aside from being female and over seventy, they have nothing in common. Gloria is determined and manipulative. She wants everyone to do what she wants and she does what it takes to get that to happen. The harder she pushed me, the harder I pushed back. Some of it was her, some of it was me being a teenager. Finally I got so mad, I joined up the day after I graduated from high school.”
“To spite her?”
“Yeah. It was worth it, just to see the look on her face.”
She couldn’t imagine having that kind of relationship with her grandmother. Not that the woman was still alive, but she and Elissa had been close before she died.
“That doesn’t sound very familial,” she said, trying not to be judgmental.
“Gloria isn’t a family person. I try sometimes with her. I can’t figure out why she won’t bend. I’m close to my two brothers and my sister, though.”
Elissa had a feeling Walker wanted a better relationship with his grandmother. Now that he was out of the Marines and living nearby, maybe that would happen.
He looked at her. “What about you? Have you lived in Seattle all your life?”
“Except for a brief time in Los Angeles, yes.” She hesitated, then shrugged. “I was a typical middle-class kid. When I was a senior in high school, I fell for a guy in a band. Mitch. He was sexy and dangerous—at least in my seventeen-year-old eyes. When he left to go back to L.A., I went with him.”
“Zoe’s dad?” he asked.
“No. That would be too simple. Once I got to L.A., I realized Mitch wasn’t a rock star. He wasn’t very good. Or faithful. We split up. I was upset and humiliated and determined not to go crawling back home until I’d made something of myself. And I liked dealing with the music business. I ended up getting a job as a roadie of sorts. I arranged travel, food, that sort of thing. I was good at it.”
He smiled. “A rock star roadie. I would never have guessed. So what happened?”
She grimaced. “I met Neil. I’m still not sure why we hooked up. He’s seriously into the drug scene and I never was. I couldn’t see the point.” She sighed. “Don’t get me wrong. I partied plenty, but I’m a cheap date. Two margaritas and I’m on my butt. Anyway, Neil’s emotionally tortured, self-absorbed, and borderline abusive. Perfect for a displaced nineteen-year-old pretending to be an adult. I fell hard and he let me. When I found out I was pregnant with Zoe, I came home.”
The family-friendly version of the story, Elissa thought, but she didn’t know Walker well enough to tell him the truth. More to the point, there was no reason for him to know every last sordid detail of her past.
“What about you?” she asked quickly. “Any exotic ex-wives lurking in the background?”
“Never married,” he said. “I don’t do serious relationships. It was too difficult with my job. I was gone six to nine months a year, every year. I saw a lot of guys get left. I didn’t see the point.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m still not looking.”
“So we’re both determined to stay single,” she said.
“And not have sex.”
She smiled. “Is that your rule, too?”
“It is with you. I intend to respect your wishes.”
Damn. Just her luck to be attracted to the one man on the planet who planned to actually do as she requested.
Any other guy would have just gone for it. Honestly, what was he waiting for? It was late, they were alone, alcohol had been imbibed. She wouldn’t say no.
That was the killer, Elissa thought glumly. Walker tempted her in a way no man had. Ever. She shouldn’t be attracted to him, but she was. Despite her rules and the foolishness of getting involved with the guy living upstairs, if he suggested getting naked right that second, she would have stripped in three seconds flat. The need to feel his mouth on hers, his hands on her body, was almost painful in its intensity.
“I should go,” he said as he set down his glass and stood.
Obviously not a mind reader. “Thanks for helping me with my boxes. Let me know if you change your mind about wanting any jewelry. As a gift or something. Or if you get your ear pierced.”
She followed him to the door where he paused and smiled at her.
“Do I look like the ear-piercing type?” he asked, his voice low and sexy enough to make her shiver.
“No, but I’ve been wrong before.”
“Not about that. ’Night, Elissa.”
CHAPTER FIVE
WALKER LOOKED OVER the list of Ashleys he’d made shortly after moving into the apartment. “Damn popular name,” he muttered as he looked at those yet to be crossed off. Ben had gone to four different high schools in four years. Walker had looked ahead two grades and back three to make sure he covered as many of the women as possible.
Several of them had moved out of state. He’d gone to see a couple and had been forced to speak with two by phone. Not his first choice. He had a feeling that whomever Ben had been dating already knew he’d died, but in case she didn’t, Walker wasn’t comfortable passing that information on over the phone. Plus, he had his letter to deliver.
He needed to…
He paused and listened. There was something—
“Hello? Walker?”
He stood and walked to the front of the apartment. After opening the front door, he saw Mrs. Ford standing at the foot of his stairs. She had a dish towel wrapped around her left hand and seemed a little shaky on her feet.
“Sorry to bother you,” she said. “I can’t climb that many stairs. I seem to have cut my hand. It’s silly really. The knife just slipped and—”
He ducked back inside, grabbed his first aid kit and ran downstairs.
“Let’s get you inside,” he said, ushering the old lady into her apartment and out of the sun.
“I wouldn’t normally bother you with something like this,” she said as he took her to the sink and peeled back the towel. “But the bleeding doesn’t seem to want to stop.”
She’d gone deep, slicing the top of her hand and the base of her thumb. Through the pulsing blood, he was pretty sure he saw bone, which was never a good sign.
“You’re going to need stitches,” he said flatly and reached