Just For Kicks. Susan Andersen
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red scar on the knuckle above her right index finger that had cost her two days’ work less than a month ago.
“How did this happen?”
She looked up at Wolfgang, at his lightly tanned face beneath pale, spiky hair. “I was ambushed by a little old lady with a monster purse.” Wanting his hands off her, she thrust one of her own out at him. “Help me up.”
“I don’t think it is broken or even badly sprained,” he agreed, and slid his fingers away from her leg with an enthusiasm that seemed to match her own. He rose to his feet in a single, easy movement, then reached down and grasped her outstretched hand, hauling her upright.
She came up faster than she expected and instinctively put her injured foot down to keep from slamming into him. The flash of pain spearing her ankle made her crumple, and only Wolfgang’s quick hands wrapping around her upper arms kept her from sagging against his chest. The lilac-and-gold-beaded fringe of her costume swung out, sparkling bits of confetti that slapped up against his dark shirt and slacks.
Damn, damn, damn. Of all the men in this casino, why did he have to be the one who’d come to her aid? And what the hell was one of Security and Surveillance’s higher-ups doing playing nursemaid to a dancer, anyway?
Probably grabbing yet another opportunity to rub her nose in how responsible he was. As if being anal was a good thing.
He helped her to a nearby chair in front of a bank of poker machines, swiveled her seat to allow her leg to extend into the aisle and turned a plastic coin bucket on end for her to prop her heel on. Then he flagged down a waitress.
“Bring some ice and a towel, please,” he said. It was clear it wasn’t really a request, and the woman promptly turned away to do as he’d commanded.
“I’m guessing you don’t have a lot of friends,” Carly said dryly.
Crouched in front of her to check her foot once again, he slowly raised his head and looked at her with expressionless eyes. “I have no need of friends,” he said with apparent unconcern.
“You’re kidding me!” She was genuinely taken aback. This was the most civil exchange the two of them had ever managed, since their usual interaction consisted of heated confrontations, which had started the day Jones moved into the condo complex.
Well, heated on her part, anyway. He’d pretty much been a Popsicle. Still, even though she had little use for a man so patently lacking in appreciation for animals, she’d at least assumed he was marginally human.
Apparently not. No need of friends? That was just plain barbaric. There were a lot of things she didn’t need in this world—beginning with this guy as a next-door neighbor. But her friends certainly were at the top of her Must Have list. She simply couldn’t imagine what she’d do without Treena and Jax or Ellen and Mack. Dog-hating, grim-faced security guys, however, were on a different list entirely.
“I do not kid,” he said stiffly.
She snapped her mouth shut and looked at him, at his chilly green eyes beneath straight, thick brows, at those sharp cheekbones and that hard, unsmiling mouth. Then she blew out a breath and gave him a clipped nod. “Gotcha. No sense of humor. I’ve noticed that about you.”
His eyebrows gathered over the prominent thrust of his nose. But before he could respond, the cocktail waitress returned with a bag of ice and a towel and Wolfgang pulled his gaze from Carly’s face to accept the items with the barest acknowledgment.
“Thanks, Olivia,” Carly said to make up for his brusqueness. “I appreciate you going out of your way.” After the waitress squeezed her shoulder, wished her a speedy recovery and walked away, Carly turned her attention back to Jones, who was draping the towel over her foot. “I take it you have no need to get to know your fellow workers or show the least bit of civility, either?”
He slapped the ice onto her ankle.
She hissed a breath in through her teeth. When stars quit dancing in front of her eyes, she narrowed the latter on the man in front of her. “You’re a real prince, Jones.” Flapping the hand she hadn’t used to anchor herself against the fresh onslaught of pain that threatened to shoot her straight out of her seat, she shooed him away. “You can go now.” Begrudgingly she added, “Thanks for your help.”
He stood and looked at her down the length of his strong, slightly hooked nose. “You’ll be able to drive?”
Probably not. “I’ll be fine.”
“Isn’t your car a standard transmission?”
“Yes,” she agreed. “A cute little five-speed. But I’m sure you have better things to do than stand around talking about my car. So, please. Don’t let me keep you.”
He didn’t budge. “How do you intend to get home? Will you call your redheaded friend, the other dancer?”
Nope. This was Treena’s day off and she and Jax had left for San Francisco after last night’s show. They didn’t plan to be back until late tomorrow night. She gave Jones an earnest nod anyway. “Sure. That’s exactly what I’ll do. Bye-bye.”
Wolf looked down at her and knew she was lying through her teeth. Shit. He was going to have to take her home himself.
He didn’t want to spend another minute in her company, let alone the time it would take to get her to his car, drive back to their complex and help her into her condo. She was frivolous and irresponsible, and every time he came within a foot of her she got on his nerves so bad he wanted to howl and chew concrete, to commit reckless, poorly thought-out acts, many of which culminated in turning her over his knee and blistering that round ass the way someone ought to have done years ago.
This was very not like him. So the last thing he wanted was to be thrown together with her. Still, she was through work for the night, he was through work for the night and she lived right next door. Clearly she couldn’t work the clutch in her automobile with that badly swollen foot, and it would be criminally irresponsible of him to leave her to fend for herself when they were both headed for the same destination.
Not to mention that he owed her for the pain he’d inflicted with the ice bag. That had been uncalled for, no matter how angry her smart mouth had made him.
He sighed. “Come. I will take you home.”
She looked at him as if he’d offered to molest her worthless dog instead of provide her with needed transportation. “No!” It came out loud and emphatic, and she smiled weakly at a gambler at the far end of the row of machines who glanced up from pushing the buttons that selected his poker hand. She lowered her voice. “Thank you very much, but no. That’s not necessary.”
“You cannot drive.”
“I told you I’ll call Treena.”
“You lied.”
She gave him a cool look from killing blue eyes. “And you know this how?”
“By being good at my job. I know how to read people a hell of a lot tougher than you.”
“Fine. I lied. I’ll call Mack.”
He shook his head in disgust. “You would disturb Mr. Brody at this time of night when I am perfectly willing to take you home? You are the most irritating, irrespon—”
“—sible woman you have ever had the misfortune to meet. Yeah, yeah. We’ve had this conversation before.”
Color flushed her cheeks, and only then did Wolf realize how very pale they’d been just a moment ago. She probably was in a great deal of pain. Before remorse could assail him, however, she raised her fine-boned chin.
“Fine. Thank you. A ride home would be very…thoughtful.” She sounded as if the words were strangling her, but he couldn’t inspect her expression for she bent over just then to lift one corner of the ice bag off her foot and check her ankle.
“Can you walk?” he demanded of the crown