To Trust a Stranger (18 page)

Stepping out of the chilly purple gloom of Sweetwater's into the dark, crowded bustle of the street was disorienting.

The heat enfolded her, welcome as a blanket on a winter's night, and Julie realized that the nightclub had been downright cold. She simply hadn't noticed after the first few minutes because she had been wrapped in Mac's arms.

Which in spite of the overenthusiastic air-conditioning had made her hot enough to want to get naked. Right there. Right then.

With Mac.

The realization was mind-boggling. “Here.”

Mac stopped just past the line waiting to get in, handing her, her shoes. She leaned against the smooth painted brick of Sweetwater's outer wall to slip them on while what seemed to be the entire population of several states went by around them and he created a jostle-free zone for her with his body. As she stood on first one foot and then the other, he watched without saying a word. When she straightened, shoes in place, his gaze met hers.

The sizzle in his eyes was as tangible as the heat in the bricks she leaned against.

Hmm. Something here was not right.

Mac broke off eye contact then and started walking, hauling her after him,
plowing
through the throng on the sidewalk like a wide receiver with the football tucked under his arm and the goal posts in sight. Julie followed in the wake he created, entertaining a variety of thoughts in quick succession as, with dispassionate assessment, she eyed his retreating back.

He had nice shoulders, broad and muscular in a navy tee that equally showed off equally nice arms. He had a nice butt, small and tight and sexy in well-worn jeans. He was tall, athletically built, handsome.

Any woman would salivate.

So it wasn't surprising that she wanted him. In fact, it would have been surprising if she didn't. She was a normal, red-blooded American female, after all, and he was a hunky guy. To say nothing of the fact that she was in a marriage so dead rigor mortis was about to set in and, to clench matters, was extremely sexually deprived.

But he wanted her, too. She wasn't mistaken about that, and that was where the question lay. Her thoughts curled around boat-sized high heels and blond wigs and mountainous boobs and pink leashes and Josephine. And she tried to recall just what he'd said when she'd asked him point-blank if he was gay.

She couldn't remember exactly. But the short answer, as recorded by her brain, had been yes.

Just a little while ago, when she'd asked him if he went both ways, he'd said no. And punctuated that by kissing her until her brain was practically fried.

So where did that leave her? Julie wasn't sure, but “frustrated” came to mind.

“Hold on just one minute,” she said, digging in her heels.

They were in the alley now, headed toward the lot where the Blazer was parked. It was dark and shadowy and smelled of booze and garbage and should have been scary as all get-out, but Julie scarcely noticed. Her attention was all for the man pulling her along after him as if she'd been a recalcitrant Josephine.

No, probably he would have shown more consideration for the poodle.

When she balked, he stopped, turning to face her. “What now?”

The various lights from the establishments they'd left behind created a reddish glow at the mouth of the alley that allowed her to see his expression. He looked almost-wary.

“What did you mean, no?” She narrowed her eyes at him. In the shadows along one wall, something stirred. Seeing the movement out of the corner of her eye, she jumped about a foot in the air and skittered toward Mac. He released her wrist to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her against his side, his gaze focused on the threat. They both watched as, not ten feet away, a man got to his feet and, with no more than a single glance at them, staggered toward the street.

The smell of booze was suddenly overpowering. Julie realized that they had disturbed a sleeping drunk.

“You want to have a conversation, wait till we get to the car.”

With that curt response Mac was off again, pulling her behind him, not pausing until they reached the Blazer. With more haste than courtesy he bundled her inside, slammed the door behind her, and got in himself Then, without a word, without so much as a glance at her, he started the car. He was reaching for the button that controlled the lights when she turned off the ignition.

“What the ... “ As he glanced at her in surprise, she curled one leg beneath her, leaned across the console, and pressed her lips to his mouth.

13

HIS RESPONSE WAS INSTANTANEOUS and unmistakable. His lips molded themselves to hers and the blaze of heat that flared between them told Julie everything she needed to know. He tasted faintly of beer. His kiss was hungry, insistent, arousing. An instant memory of his hands, hot as they slid up under her dress, making her hot as they cupped and caressed her bottom, threatened to make her forget her purpose. She wanted him-God, she wanted him.

And he wanted her, too. No doubt at all remained about that. Shaken but satisfied at the result of her impromptu research, Julie lifted her mouth from his before she could completely lose her head, breaking off the kiss even as he pulled her across the console and into his lap.

“You're not gay.” If her voice was faintly breathless-all right, a lot breathless-it was also accusing. His hands still gripped her waist; hers rested on his shoulders. She was half lying, half sitting, with her back cradled by his arm and her breasts just brushing his chest. He curved over her, his wide shoulders blocking out her view of the rest of the front seat. Their faces were just inches apart. She could feel the warmth of his breath feathering across her lips. Unfortunately, it was too dark to read his expression. But she imagined it-he was no doubt looking guilty as hell.

“You-are-not-gay.” She said it again, with emphasis, as if to drive the point home to herself as well as him.

That seemed to make an impression. He took a deep breath and straightened, pulling her up with him and then lifting her back over the console into her own seat. Once there, she gave a tug to her skirt to make sure she was decent, folded her arms over her chest, and glared at him.

“I never said I was.” His voice was cool as a glass of lemonade.

To her annoyance, as he spoke, he restarted the car as though nothing at all out of the ordinary had happened. The lights came on, bouncing off the wall in front of them to reflect on his face. He did not look guilty, she noticed with increasing ire. He looked-he looked as calm if they were discussing the vagaries of the weather.

“You did too.” Once again she searched her mind for his exact words. “When I asked you before you said ... you said ... “

“I asked you if it mattered.” He pulled out of the parking lot and turned down the alley. The beams illuminated graffiti-adorned brick walls, a Dumpster with a partially open lid, piles of litter. He glanced her way. “If I remember correctly, you said it didn't.”

Julie narrowed her eyes at him. ”Well, now,” she said with more than a hint of bite, “it does.”

“So I'm not gay.” He slid her another of those so-calm-she-wanted-to-kill-him looks before edging out into the still heavy traffic.

“Put on your seat belt.”

Julie's lips compressed. Mentally counting to ten, she put on her seat belt. Her temper was heading toward slow boil, but she decided to suspend judgment until she was sure she had the full picture. Maybe there was something she was missing here.

“Are you a cross- dresser.

He gave a grunt that might have been laughter. “Only when I have to be. As far as I'm concerned, panty hose could have been invented by the Spanish Inquisition. How women wear those things is beyond me. And bras are a bitch, too. But the shoes were killer. I was really starting to get into the shoes. Yours especially.” He switched into his Debbie voice.

“Girlfriend, I gotta tell you, those little heels you're wearing are the bomb:”

He leered at her slides.

Julie glowered at him. “You'll notice I'm not laughing.” In fact, she was starting to feel like a fool for ever believing he was gay in the first place. There had been so many signs-how could she have been so blind? “Let me make sure I understand this time: You're straight, right?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Pretty much?”

“Well, actually, about a hundred percent.”

“You
lied
to me.” There was a definite sizzle in her tone.

He threw a quick glance her way. “I didn't lie. You made assumptions, and I just didn't correct them.”

“Oh, that makes it all better.”

“Look, if you'd known from the beginning I was straight, would you have let me help you?”

Julie sneered. “Are you actually attempting to claim that you lied to me for my own good?”

“That's pretty much it in a nutshell.” He sounded almost pleased at being presented with such a tidy summing-up.

“Yeah, right.” Julie took a deep, calming breath. “So, you want to explain the whole Debbie thing to me?”

“I was working. Undercover, you might say. The guy I was tailing-you met him in the parking lot last night-is into drag queens. Ergo, Debbie.” He shrugged, looking unrepentant, and his eyes twinkled at her infuriatingly. “Hey, babe, a PI's got to do what a PI's got to do.”

“Maybe I should point out here that I am so not finding this amusing.”

There was a pause as they reached the expressway and he pulled on and accelerated, quickly leaving the worst of the traffic behind. Julie used it to take a firm, two-handed grip on her temper before she could lose it completely.

“What about Josephine? Is she even yours? Or were you just using her as a prop?” Her voice was sharp with growing outrage.

“Until three weeks ago, Josephine belonged to my grandmother. Then Grandma moved into a retirement home and I inherited her dog, complete with collar, leash, and a weekly appointment with the groomer.”

Julie looked at him suspiciously. Imagining him with a grandmother-a grandmother he cared enough about to adopt her tiny
fluffball
of a poodle-was a stretch. A big stretch.

“Is that the truth?”

“Yes.” A smile touched his mouth as he glanced at her. “Cross my heart.”

Julie snorted. “That certainly clenches it for me.” “I don't know why you're mad. You liked Debbie.”

“Not to make out with!” As soon as she said it, she could have kicked herself. The dignified thing to have done would have been to ignore those breath-stealing kisses completely. Too late now.

“Ah. Good point.”

He gave her a look that made her hot all over again-until she remembered that he had deliberately deceived her.

Debbie, indeed.

Talk about your wolf in sheep's clothing-what she had here was a hound in poodle-wear.

She glared at him.

He continued in a semi-apologetic tone, “At the time, making out with you didn't seem to be an option.”

“It's not an option now, either.” Her voice was tart. She felt like a fool, and she didn't like the feeling-or, for that matter, at the moment at least, its cause. “What happened back there was strictly a one-time thing that was entirely dictated by unfortunate circumstances. So don't start thinking you're about to get lucky, because you're not.”

“I swear, if you hadn't just now put the idea in my head, such a thought never would have crossed my mind.” He shook his head virtuously. When Julie responded with a yeah, right look, he grinned. Julie realized that she was being teased. “But in the interests of full disclosure, I think I ought to mention that we have a strict company policy against getting lucky' with clients. Of course, being that I'm the boss, I guess I could make an exception if you asked me real nice.”

“Not a chance.” She gave him a smile that was scarcely more than a baring of her teeth. “I'll give you credit, though: pretending to be Debbie as a come-on technique is original, if nothing else. Although actually, from a woman's point of view, I have to tell you that being lied to about something like that pretty much sucks.”

“Just for the record, I think I should point out here that you're the one who came on to me. You kissed me first back there, not the other way around, remember? And if I'd been trying to get you into bed, you'd have known it a whole hell of a lot sooner.” A beat went by. “Besides, I never actually lied.”

“Okay, that's it. You lied and you know it. And if you want my opinion, deceiving me like that was a pretty rotten thing to do.”

“Darlin', you're losing sight of the big picture here. Who I choose to sleep with doesn't matter. What matters is that here in the down-and-dirty divorce wars I'm on your side.”

“What matters is that you lied.”

A swaying eighteen-wheeler whizzing around them so fast it made the car shake distracted their attention before the conversation could deteriorate further. Then they were at the Summerville exit and the Blazer was easing off the expressway into the dark, deserted hush of the town.

A glance at the dashboard clock told Julie that it was 1:43, and sent her thoughts careening back to her larger problem: Sid. Tonight she had plenty of time: a good hour and a half before her cheating husband snuck back in the house. Should she pack and leave before he even got home? Or wait with folded arms like a wife in a comic strip until he got in and let him have it with both barrels? Or should she bite her tongue, bide her time, and see a lawyer before she walked out? The idea of even having to set eyes on Sid again, much less spend a few more nights under the same roof with him, made her sick to her stomach and almost made the decision for her. But she'd been cool so far and, she thought, had made all the right moves. She didn't want to lose what advantage knowledge gave her now.