Morning After (A Reynolds Security Novel) (3 page)

"I wasn't worried about you biting. I was more concerned about death and dismemberment."  He chuckled and the deep rich sound sent shivers up her arms. He led her into a large nicely decorated office. He indicated a sofa with a phone on a side table. You can make your calls there.  He continued through a doorway near the window.  She sighed and sat down on the sofa. Her first call was to Suzy but all she got was a voice mail. Not having a number to leave, she didn't bother to leave a message. Next she called to report the robbery. The dispatcher explained that the wait could be a couple of hours. She groaned and leaned back against the sofa and closed her eyes.

"Problem?" She jumped at the sound of his voice. She couldn't believe how quietly he moved for such a big guy.

"They are busy tonight. The dispatcher said it could be a couple of hours before someone could take my statement. She said I could go home and wait there. Problem is my roommate is out of town and the only other person with a key isn't answering her phone."

"Landlord?"

"Property
management company. They have an emergency number on the weekend. Do you think 'I lost my keys' is an emergency?"

"In this case I think it qualifies." He offered her a cup and she frowned at it.

"What is it?"

"Tea."

"I hate tea." She wrinkled her nose.

"It has lots of lemon and honey. It will help your throat.”She took the cup and sipped it to humor him, and then set it on the table. He smiled. 

"Bathroom?"

"Through there." He pointed at the door way he'd passed through.

"You made tea in the bathroom?" She wrinkled her nose again and he grinned.

"There is a kitchenette too." She smiled but didn't comment further.

What he called a kitchenette was bigger than the kitchen in her first apartment had been.  But what drew her attention the most was a French press on the counter.

When she returned to the office she saw him slip his phone back into his pocket.

"You have a French press... in your office?" she said without preamble.

"I like good coffee."

"Why do you even come into the shop?"

"You make good coffee."

"Thank you, I work directly with a local company that roasts the beans. I have roasted my own and I have a press but I just can't do it on a large scale." She stopped abruptly when she realized she was rambling. He smiled.

"Do you know what was in your purse? You should probably cancel any credit cards." Erica groaned and rolled her eyes.

"You have been really great, thank you, but I don't want to keep you."

"You're not keeping me. Drink your tea. Cancel your credit cards. Someone should be here to take your statement soon."

Erica was soon very frustrated by the process, 'yes my card was stolen, no I don't have the account number, no I don't have a police report yet...’ over and over.

Ethan listened while she calmly went through the details repeatedly. He was impressed. He probably would have chucked the phone by now. She was on the phone with her bank when the police officers finally arrived. There were two of them. One of them walked directly to Ethan and they shook hands.

"Ethan, good to see you."

"Sean, great to see you too.
Thanks for coming." He introduced him to Erica and stood quietly by while they interviewed her. He was surprised to hear her say that she had her bank drop with her and that she normally made the drop earlier in the day. Even more surprised to hear her car wouldn't start.  He gave his statement including a vague description and a partial plate on the getaway vehicle.

As soon as the door closed behind the officers her gaze narrowed on him.

"You called them didn't you?"

"I did."

"Why?"

"You didn't seem to want to wait."

"I'm not very patient," she smiled sheepishly. "‘Thank you’ seems inadequate but I don't know what else to say."

"You don't have to thank me. I haven't done anything extraordinary." It was extraordinary to her but she felt to say anything else at this point was gushing.

"I should get going."

"What are you going to do now?"

"I'll call my friend again."

"If she still doesn't answer?"

"I'll break in," she laughed. "It can't be that hard, right?" He smiled an indulgent smile and her stomach clenched.

"Call your friend, I'll drive you home. If nothing else I have some lock picking skills." Her brows rose and he grinned.

Suzy still didn't answer. When they went back downstairs Ethan led her to a big black truck parked on the street that she hadn't noticed before.  He opened her door and her insides felt just a little gooey.

Following her directions they reached her apartment building in minutes. She didn't bother trying to get him to just drop her off; she knew he wasn't going to relent until he saw her safely home.  The hallway felt small with the massive man walking steps behind her but it was a nice feeling to have something solid at your back even if it was only temporary.

Her door was at the end of the hall, she could see long before she got there that there was a big bouquet of red roses sitting on the door step. Her stomach clenched, she hated roses. Couldn't stand the sight or the smell. Roses reminded her of the worst day of her life. No one who knew her would ever send her roses. Unfortunately, they were probably from Marco. That should have been a clue a long time before she caught him in bed with another woman.

She was fixated on those flowers intending to pick them up and drop them down the garbage shoot. She certainly didn't want them in her apartment. Before she could do just that, a hand clamped around her elbow and pulled her back. The world seemed to slow as Ethan stepped in front of her and pulled the gun she had forgotten he was carrying. She finally noticed that the door was open when he used the toe of his boot to push it wider.  He put up his hand in what she assumed was a wait here motion. Then he disappeared through the door.  It seemed like she spent an eternity waiting and straining to hear anything from within the apartment.  It was really only a couple of minutes.

"There is no one inside, but it's been ransacked." She tried to push past him into the apartment but he caught her. "Don't touch anything." he warned. Even knowing what she was going to see didn't stop the gasp when she saw the carnage. Everywhere she looked something was broken. Drawers were pulled out, one of the sofa cushions had been slashed and puffy white stuffing was overflowing onto the floor. 

"Don't walk through yet. Let's wait for the police." She didn't want to look but she couldn't help it. It was hard to look away from something so horrible.  Ethan pulled her back out of the apartment and wrapped his arms around her. The sensation was foreign but the comfort was welcome. She put her arms around his waist and held on as his hand stroked up and down her back.

Finally she forced herself to pull away, she wasn't one of those clingy women always crying and looking for some guy to solve her problems. She could solve her own problems.  She looked away from him in an effort to pull herself back together. That's when she noticed the broken door jam. It was splintered where the dead bolt had been locked.

"I don't understand. If he had my keys, why did he break the door?"

"My guess would be he was here before he had your keys." Her eyes widened as the implications of that statement settled on her. She felt compelled to explain but she didn't know what to say. Thankfully she was saved from the nonsense she was about to babble by the arrival of the two officers she'd met earlier. 

Once again she stood in the hallway waiting while other people went into her apartment. Her anger was now joined by embarrassment. Were they in there looking at all her belongings scattered around? Were they wondering how much of the mess was made by the intruder and how much was always there? She remembered she had made her bed that morning, she almost never did. Was it still made? A made bed said she was a responsible adult right? Finally one of the officers returned,

"I know you only got a quick look but did you notice anything missing?" She thought for a moment and realized she did.

"My laptop was on the coffee table I think. I didn't see it in there. It's probably missing."

"Did you keep anything of value in the apartment?"

"Only the usual appliances and personal electronics.
I keep my money in a bank like a normal person.  Not sewn into my couch cushions," she said bitterly.

"I am sorry Ms. Sanders, the crime scene people are going to be here for a while and frankly I don't know how safe it is for you to be here right now anyway. Do you have somewhere else you can stay for a couple of days?"

"She can stay with me." Ethan spoke up before she could answer the officer.

"That's OK I'll just stay in a hotel for a couple of days."

"Do you have a credit card? Cash? ID?" Ethan asked smugly, Erica glared at him. The officer looked between the two of them then offered her his card. 

"Here is my card, just make sure I get your contact info." He left them squaring off in the hall way and went back into the apartment. Ethan looked into her eyes for a moment and then he smiled. That one smile had the ability to completely disarm her.

"Pizza or Mexican?"

"Excuse me?"

"I am starving, what do you want? Pizza or Mexican?"

"You want me to have dinner with you?"

"Don't sound so panicked, it's only food. It's not a date, you don't date customers, I remember. Not that I understand the logic." While he was speaking he gently propelled her down the hall with his hand on her back.  "So pizza or Mexican?"

"Are those my only choices?"

"Yeah, when we go on a real date you can pick the place."

"You're so sure we'll go on a real date?"

"Positive." He opened the door to his truck for her and she held his gaze for a moment.

"Ethan..."

"Yes?"

"Pizza."

Chapter 4

Erica couldn't remember the last time she had enjoyed pizza so much. The pizza was good. The company was better. Pizza and Mexican were both foods you tended to pair with beer. But he ordered a cola and it helped her relax a bit. This whole situation was surreal, everything was moving much faster than she liked and yet she wasn't freaking out. 

Despite his assurance that it wasn't a date, the conversation was classic first date. They talked about where they grew up, how many siblings they had. He had a half-sister that he hadn't seen in years. She, of course, had none. They talked about sports, they both liked to watch football and he was currently playing baseball on a local league team.  They talked about music and pizza toppings and pretty much whatever came to mind. If it had been a first date it would have been the best one she ever had.

She stared across the small table at him and wondered what possessed her to turn him down in the first place. He was hot, not that she didn't notice the piercing blue eyes right off, but the suit had blinded her to the rest of the package.
The tall well-built man that sat before her. His smile was infectious and reached his eyes.  He was the kind of guy women fantasized about. Hot and sweet, a total package, and she had turned him down?

Ethan watched Erica as she talked and ate pizza. Her face was so expressive. It was like an open book written in her eyes.  He had wanted her before but now he didn't think he could let her go.
The idea that she could be in danger caused his gut to churn up in knots. He wasn't about to let her make herself a sitting duck but neither did he want her to resent him for trying to control her.  He hated to remind her of all that had happened but he knew he had to.

"Erica, I have an extra room you can use but if you're not comfortable with that I would be happy to check you into a hotel."  Her smile dimmed
slightly and he felt the loss of warmth. Her eyes held his and he didn't even blink, wanting her to read his sincerity.

"You really don't mind a house guest?"

"I really don't mind." He fought the urge to smile.

It was a thirty minute drive to Ethan's house. Erica's nervousness returned and mounted the longer they drove.  She was practically fidgeting when he finally drove up a long driveway and stopped in front of a sprawling single story house. She couldn't even see any lights from any other houses, of course the trees might have been causing that but it was still creepy.  He opened her door and smiled up at her.

"I like open spaces."

"I hope that's not so no one hears your victims screaming," she muttered, as she hopped down. His smile widened into a full blown grin.

"Don't tell me I am projecting a serial killer vibe now."

"Maybe, I didn't know you lived in the middle of nowhere."

"Right, ‘cause cities have no serial killers."

"Not helping." He laughed at that. He unlocked the door and entered a code into a beeping control panel by the door.

"Here, maybe this will make you feel better." He entered a series of numbers into the panel and then stepped aside. "Enter a four digit pin,
then you can arm and disarm the system. I'll take out the temporary pin after you go home."

"I don't see how that is going to make me feel better," she said even as she punched in four numbers.

"It's so you don't feel trapped."

"Oh."  He led her into a wide open living room that flowed into a kitchen.
Apparently his liking of wide open spaces extended inside the house as well.  It was decorated in warm deep earth tones. Very masculine, but not excessively so.

"This is beautiful."

"Thank you. Make yourself comfortable, I'll be right back."  She sat down right in the corner of a brown suede sectional that wrapped around the room facing a huge flat screen TV. He returned a few minutes later without his jacket, shoulder holster and whatever gadgets were attached to his belt.  "Can I get you something to drink? I have some soda I think."

"Sure."

"Diet or regular?"

"Diet if you have it." While he was retrieving their drinks she looked down at herself, her jeans were dirty from falling to the ground. Her throat still ached.

"Actually, I would really like to borrow your shower."  He stared at her for a moment and then seemed to snap back to the present.

"Of course, let me find you something to wear and we'll throw those in the washer." She followed him to the bedroom. The space was as masculine as the rest of the house; dominated by a huge king sized bed. She wondered briefly why he needed such a big bed for only one person.

"Of course I have nothing that will even come close to fitting you. Guess we'll make do."  He handed her a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. He went into the bathroom off the bedroom. He pulled towels out of the cabinet and set them on the counter. "The shower works in the usual way. I'll leave you to it." He turned and retreated quickly from the room closing the door behind him.  Erica stared at the closed door for a moment wondering if she should lock it. She decided against it. After all if he really wanted to come through that door the lock wasn't going to stop him.

The bathroom was gorgeous. It was all
marble; every surface was smooth and polished. She was afraid to touch anything, afraid it might leave finger prints. The shower was a huge glass enclosure when she stepped inside she saw there were dual shower heads. The sight caused a flash of what it might be like to be in this shower with Ethan. The thought sent a rush of heat to her cheeks and a throb to her loins.

Ethan moved quickly through the kitchen emptying the dishwasher. He didn't really need to empty the dishwasher but he had to do something to keep his mind off of Erica naked in his shower.  He was torn between wanting to taste her, to kiss her breathless, and wanting to move really slowly so he didn't scare her.

Erica breathed deep as she pulled Ethan's shirt over her head. It was clean but there was a lingering hint of his scent. This whole situation felt so intimate. She had to keep reminding herself that it wasn't real. She had never had this level of intimacy with anyone other than Zoe. She'd never worn a boyfriend's t-shirt, never spent an entire night or let them spend the night. She wanted it, but it never felt right. That was stage two, the living together stage. “This is what I have to look forward to,” she told herself.  She looked in the mirror; she wasn't wearing a bra because she wanted to wash hers. The shirt was really baggy, she hoped she wouldn't jiggle and give herself away.

One look at his eyes told her he'd noticed. To his credit he quickly looked away and pretended not to notice. She called Zoe and Suzy, and left messages with Ethan's number. Then she asked to be directed to the washer.  Once she had her clothes in the washer she returned to the sofa and pulled her knees up in effort to ease the tension. Ethan handed her the diet soda she had originally asked for and sat down beside her.  The light was on in the kitchen but not in the living room. It wrapped them in a dim light cocoon.

"It's late. You want me to show you your room?"

"You can just point me in the direction. I am going to wait up and make sure my clothes get in the dryer."

"K, I'll wait with you." He leaned his head back against the sofa not looking at her. She relaxed and wiggled deeper into the corner.

"How long have you lived here?"

"Four years. I used to run my company out of the office back there." He pointed behind him to a wing of the house she hadn't been in. He seemed to remember at that moment that she hadn't been to that part of the house and winced.

"I should've given you a tour."

"You can do it tomorrow. So did you design this house yourself? It seems custom."

"I did. I used to spend my downtime thinking up features."

"Your downtime?
Like weekends?"

"No." He laughed, "I was a Marine; they don't give you weekends."

"Oh."

"So after I got out, I built it a piece at a time. It is more than
custom. It is handpicked."

"It's beautiful," she said quietly.

"Thanks." He was quiet for a moment then said, "Tell me about the flowers."

"What flowers?”

"The ones outside your apartment. You didn't look very happy to see them."

"I hate roses," she said softly.

"Really?" She didn't respond and he let the silence linger for a moment.

"They remind me of the worst day of my life." Her voice was only a whisper. He didn't ask. He just waited to see if she would continue.  "My parents were killed in a car accident my senior year of high school."

"I'm sorry," he murmured but she continued as if she hadn't heard.

"My father was a physician in a small town. Everyone knew him. Everyone loved him. Everyone sent flowers. Roses in every color soon it was just me alone in that house surrounded by the sight and smell of those flowers. Now that sight and smell remind me of the worst time in my life."

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

"It was a long time ago." She smiled and took a drink of the cola.

"I have one of those, more than one actually."

"What?"

"Issues with things that remind me of bad times."

"Really?"

"Yep.
I can't handle small spaces because of something that happened in the corp. And I hate the smell of stale beer because that's what my house always smelled like growing up."

"I hate the smell of stale beer because of the frat boys in college." She laughed.

"So who sent the flowers?"

"I don't know I never looked at the card but my guess would be my ex-boyfriend."

"Judging from the flowers I'd say he doesn't want to be an ex."

"It doesn't matter. It's not up to him."

"I see."

"Don't feel sorry for him."

"I wasn't feeling sorry for him," he said and smiled because he was feeling a little sorry for him. He couldn't imagine how bad it must feel to have and then lose this woman.  At the same time he was grateful for the opportunity it gave him.

"We're like a couple of ten year old girls telling secrets in the dark." She giggled.

"I am not now, nor have I ever been, a ten year old girl," he said with mock offense and she laughed.

"Boys don't tell secrets?"

"No, boys tell lies. The taller the tale the better."

"You know, I've met a few men like that."

"Yeah some never grow up." She laughed at that and realized how comfortable she was. She was never this comfortable around anyone except Zoe. Even Suzy was iffy at times.

"So what secrets did you tell?"

"Ha, you think I should tell you all my secrets?"

"Of course.
Isn't that what we're doing here? I won't tell anyone." He leaned over closer to her and held out his pinky. "Pinky swear." She smiled and hooked her pinky with his.

"All right, I will tell you one thing. But you can never tell anyone." His heart pounded.

"I promise."

"My name, my real name is America."

"That's not so bad."

"It is when you start preschool and all the other preschoolers laugh at you. It was scarring." He grinned and wiggled even closer.

"I bet in high school all the boys were poetic about America the beautiful."

"Hardly."
She made a sound that was surprisingly like a snort.

"I bet I can top that."

"You think so?"

"Yep."

"Try me."

"My middle name... is Allen."

"Well that's not so bad... Oh... Ethan Allen." She giggled and he grinned.

"Don't you dare tell
anyone. My closest friends don't even know."

"Your friends shouldn't make fun of you."

"Are you kidding guys live to give each other crap about this kinda stuff."

"
Ahh yet another fundamental difference between men and women."

"Differences are good."