Asking for Trouble (13 page)

She hesitated a moment, looked down and picked up her spoon,
did some stirring, even though she hadn’t put anything into her tea. “You’re
going to think I was stupid,” she said at last. “And I’m really glad you came
to get me. I’m sorry you had to rescue me. Again. I know, it keeps happening
over and over, and I’m sorry, and I haven’t even said thank you. Those guys
were . . . I didn’t know what was going to happen. When you came . . . “ He
could see her swallow, could watch it happen all the way down the delicate line
of her throat, all the way to that strip of red. “I was so glad to see you,”
she said, and her voice broke, and he needed to hold her.

“But why were you there?” he asked instead. “Were you out
with friends? Did they leave you there? What?”

“No,” she said, and then she stopped, and he could see the
reluctance.

“Alyssa.” This time he did reach out, took her hand where it
lay on the table, and held it. It was cold, still, and he wrapped his own hand
gently around it, felt her squeezing back, and he was filled with . . .
something. “Just tell me.”

So she did. She told him, and she pulled her hand out of his
so she could use her hands to talk, because with Alyssa, her voice wasn’t
enough, her face and her hands and her body all had to get into the act too,
and he could see her getting mad all over again while she explained.

“I thought he was kind of a jerk already,” she finished.
“And when he started in like that, so smug, so sure that life was so easy, I
just wanted to
hit
him. It wasn’t even
that I disagreed with everything he said. I know the way things are handled
now—
not
handled, more like,
isn’t working, that there need to be better ways to deal with homelessness. I
know that. I hear about former foster kids being homeless practically every day.
It was just the
contempt.
The way he
was so sure it could never happen to him. It made my blood boil. I mean,
literally, I was
boiling.
You know
how I am,” she said with an apologetic laugh.

“I do. I know that you get it. You get that people can fall on
hard times. And that some people are just . . . lost.”

“You can’t grow up as a PK and not know that. But doesn’t
everybody know that, at least a little bit?
Shouldn’t
everybody know that?”

Yeah, a Preacher’s Kid would know that, he guessed. “People
should,” he said. “They should know life can be hard, even if it’s never been
hard for them. Not like the evidence isn’t right there in front of them.”

“Was it hard for you?” She asked it quietly, her face still
for once, her gaze intent. She’d seen the crack he’d opened in the door, had
picked right up on it, and he wanted to slam it shut again, but he couldn’t,
because she was holding him right here.

“Yes.” He thought about saying more, and didn’t even know
how to start. He wanted to run, and he didn’t do that either. Just sat there,
big and dumb, and waited.

Her eyes searched his, and when he didn’t say any more, she
sighed, took another sip of her tea, and the moment passed.

“So you didn’t hit him,” he said, trying to remember what
they had been talking about.

“No. I jumped out of the car instead,” she said, and she
laughed. “You should have seen him. I left the car door open.
Wide
open, so he had to run around to
shut it, and everyone was honking. It was
great.”

He laughed out loud himself. “I’ll bet a girl’s never
ditched him like that, like she couldn’t wait to get away from him.”

“I hope it was memorable,” she said. “I hope it hurt his
pride, at least. But I could have chosen my moment better. I should have waited
until he’d got to a better neighborhood. I didn’t think ahead. As usual.”

 
“Well, you did
the right thing. You got someplace safe and called me.”

“I was worried you’d be asleep.”

“Nah. I was still at work, actually. That’s why I had to
bring the bike.”

“At midnight on Friday night? You were at
work?”

“I got an idea,” he tried to explain. “I didn’t realize it
was midnight. Time can go by.”

“Yes,” she teased, sparkling again, because Alyssa could go
through three moods while he was still figuring out the first one. “I know it
can. You get a little wrapped up.”

“I do. I’m good at concentrating.”

And right now, despite everything, he wanted to concentrate
on her. He could imagine exactly how he’d do it. He wanted his hands around
that red band on her throat. Gently, just holding her there. He wanted to
unbutton those two little buttons holding it together, watch the two strips of
red fall down her back. Somehow, exposing her throat like that would be like
undressing her. And then, kissing her there. Putting her down onto his bed,
lowering her until she was under him, her head back, and his mouth was at that
throat. And then he’d get to work on the rest of her. Slowly. He wanted to do
it. He wanted to do it now.

She looked down, picked up her spoon, set it down, and he
realized he was staring. He dropped his own gaze, picked up his coffee cup and
drained it, even though it had grown tepid.

“When you came,” she said, “I thought you were really going
to beat those guys up. I thought you really
could.”

“Well, yeah, I could have,” he said with surprise and not a
little indignation. “Why, you don’t think I can fight? I may be a programmer
now, but I still know how to fight.”

“But how do you fight three guys?”

“You hit them first. And you don’t hold back. And one of
them always runs.”

“Yeah,” she said with a reminiscent smile. “One of them
would have run for sure.”

“Plus,” he pointed out, “I was the guy with the helmet.”

“That’s right. You were. I wondered why you didn’t take it
off.”

“Big advantage in a fight. Get your head protected, you can
do a lot of damage, and you limit their options. Helmet, leather jacket, I was
all set. I was just sorry I wasn’t wearing boots.”

“Mmm,” she said. “Stomping would have been good.”

“It would have. Real good. But the best fight’s the one you
don’t have. I figured they’d back down. Although I was kind of hoping they
wouldn’t.”

“I would have got cold, waiting for you to get done,” she
said, smiling happily back at him.

“No, you wouldn’t.”

She lifted her delicate eyebrows. “You’d have been done that
fast?”

“Yep. Kick their asses and take you on out of there.”

She shut her eyes for a moment, shivered a little, and he
realized it was after one in the morning, that she was cold and tired. “Come
on,” he said, pulling out his wallet and tossing a twenty down on the table.
“Let’s go. Get you home.”

“More indecent motorcycling,” she said, sliding out of the
booth and standing up, lifting the heavy jacket and searching for the sleeve. “I’ve
never even known you had a motorcycle, you realize that? Why is that?”

“Why would you? Just how I get to work. And here.” He took
the jacket from her, held it while she slid her arms inside.

“Joe.” She sighed. “It’s a hot-guy thing to have, don’t you
know that? Don’t you know women like that?”

He smiled. He knew it. He zipped the jacket for her again,
because he’d liked doing it the first time. And he liked the way it looked,
miles too big, hanging down to her hips, a skimpy few inches of skirt below,
and then all that smooth bare leg. It was easy to imagine that she was naked
under there, and he had a sudden image of her wearing his jacket and nothing
else, of unzipping it, slowly, the black leather falling away, uncovering her.
Of cupping her breasts in his palms, the delicious weight of them in his hands,
the way she’d arch into him when he did it, when his thumbs started to move.
And then pulling her against him, with her naked under that jacket, the way
she’d press into him, trying to get closer. Sliding his hands under her, his
fingers digging into the curve of her ass, feeling those long legs wrapping
around him as he pulled her off her feet, backed her against the wall.

Out of control. His mind was seriously out of control, he
was standing there like a fool, and she was staring at him. He tried to think of
something to say, and failed. Turned and led the way out of the café.

Back to his bike, unlocking the helmet and watching her put
it on, climbing onto the bike and steadying it as she got on behind him, held
his shoulders, pressed tight against his back, and he rode to her apartment,
talking to himself the whole way, fighting hard.

Kick their asses and
take you on out of there.

She’d thought she was going to have an embarrassing moment
right there in the café. The way he’d looked when he said it, so sure, so tough
. . . he was every fantasy she’d ever had. A fantasy whose head was covered
with a stubble of brown hair, now. Barely military-short after just a few weeks,
but she’d been right, it looked better. He still looked tough, but he looked
more handsome, too. He looked
good.

He’d asked her if he should do it, and she’d said yes, and he’d
done it. He’d grown his hair, and she thought he might have done it for her.

She snuggled up into him as they rode, and she wasn’t
kidding herself it was for warmth. If she’d dared, she’d have wrapped her arms
around him, but despite the speed with which he’d come to get her, the way he’d
taken her to warm up, had encouraged her to talk it out with a thoughtfulness
that had made her melt, she still had no reason to believe that he wanted her
the way she wanted him.

Maybe, though. She’d thought there had been something back
there. Surely she couldn’t be the only one feeling this way. So when he pulled
up in front of her apartment building a few minutes later, got off the bike and
walked her to her door, she tried.

“Well . . . thanks again,” she said, unzipping the jacket
and handing it to him, watching him shrug it on and zip it again, wanting to do
it for him the way he’d done it for her.

Or, more like, wanting to step into him while it was still
unzipped, so she could feel him against her when he kissed her. The size of
him, the heat of him. She wanted to put her arms around him, reach under the
collar of the jacket, feel that ridge of muscle at his shoulder, stroke the
back of his neck. While he kissed her. No, scratch that. While he kissed her
hard,
like he couldn’t stand not to do
it. While he pushed her into the wall of the apartment building just because he
had to, because he wanted her backed up like that. She wanted him hard and
fierce, the way she’d seen him tonight. She wanted all that focused intensity aimed
at her.

“Thanks for rescuing me,” she said. “Again. I know I’m high-maintenance.”

“Mmm,” he said. “Luckily, I’m good at maintenance.”

“Oh.” That had her melting just that much more, and she
swayed towards him.

“Alyssa,” he said.

“What?” she breathed, her heart pounding.

He gave her his crooked grin. “My helmet.”

“Oh.” She tugged the thing off her head, handed it to him,
and he hefted it in one big hand.

And, when she still stood there, he took the keys from her,
found the dull brass one for the front door with an unerring hand, because he’d
helped her move, just like her
brother,
and
put it in the lock and turned it. He shoved the heavy glass door open, propped
it with his foot while he pulled the key out again and handed the bunch back to
her.

“Go inside,” he said, shifting a hand, his foot so he was
holding the door for her now. “You’re dead on your feet.”

What choice did she have, after that? She obeyed, heard the
heavy door swinging shut behind her, turned and watched him pull the black
helmet over his head, turn and go back to the curb for his bike. He straddled
the heavy black machine, kicked forward to release the kickstand as the
powerful engine started, raised a hand to her in farewell while she still
stood, watching. And then he was gone.

And
damn
it. She’d
done every single thing she could think of. She’d paused. She’d jingled her keys.
She’d given him every signal a woman could possibly send, and still nothing. He’d
come to get her when she’d been in trouble, had rescued her the same way Alec
would have. Like a brother, and that was it. That was all.

She swore in frustration, stomped her way across the tiled
entryway, as much as a person with sore feet in high heels could be said to stomp.
Stopped at the stairwell and pulled off said heels, accepted the cold grit of
the worn carpeting under her feet as she climbed to the fourth floor.

She could have sworn they’d had a moment. Too bad that, once
again, the moment had been all hers.

Joe was sitting in Alec’s office when Rae popped in on a
chilly mid-February evening. It was after seven, and Joe could tell from the
quiet of the outer office that nearly everyone else had left.

“I’m heading out,” Rae said. “You guys here for a while?”

“Nah,” Alec answered. “Wrapping up. If you’ll wait a sec,
I’ll go with you. I can finish this up at home tonight.” He shut down, began to
pack up. “Joe was just telling me that he’s going skiing up at Tahoe over
President’s Day. Abandoning the ship for some of that backcountry skiing he
does, and he was inviting me along so he can show me how the real men do it. So
he can humiliate me, more like. What do you think? Want to come?”

“I’m not a very good skier,” Rae hesitated. “In fact—“
She laughed a little. “I suspect I’d barely make it into the intermediate
category.”

“We’ll be right next door to Alpine Meadows,” Joe put in.
“If you want to come, we could all do resort skiing on Saturday, and you could
spend Sunday that way, too, or just hang out, whatever you wanted, while I took
Alec into the backcountry. As long as you don’t mind going alone, it would be
fine. I’d invite you to join us,” he hastened to add, “but it sounds like it’d
be a little technical for you.”

He’d managed not to say that it would be too hard for her,
he thought with relief. He had to congratulate himself on that one.

“Don’t worry,” she said, reading his mind, “I’m not
offended. It doesn’t sound good to me at all. And I shouldn’t be inviting other
people along on your trip, I know, but what about Alyssa?”

“Alyssa?”

“She loves to ski, and she hasn’t done it since she moved,”
Rae said. “I know, because we’ve got her gear in our storage unit.”

Rae and Alec were living in Rae’s little cottage while their
new house was being remodeled, and there hadn’t been room for Alyssa’s sports
gear, her skis and surfboard and all the rest of it. It hadn’t been going to
fit in her room, either, that was for sure, so Alec and Rae had decided it
could go into the storage unit that housed the few items of Alec’s furniture
that had made Rae’s cut for the new place. Joe knew that because he’d driven
the truck there and unloaded it himself.

He hesitated. Not because he didn’t want Alyssa along, but
because he did. It had become harder than ever to keep his distance since the
night he’d rescued her. He kept wanting to call her. To check on her, he’d told
himself, knowing all the while that that wasn’t the reason, or at least not all
of it. The idea that she was going out with other guys—that was the real reason.
He couldn’t get it out of his mind, now that she was this close, and it was
driving him crazy, and there seemed to be no way to fix it.

“If you don’t mind,” Rae said again. “If there’s room.”

“Sure,” Joe said. He’d controlled himself for fifteen years,
after all. All right, her parents wouldn’t be there, and he’d already
discovered that that made a big difference. But at least she wouldn’t be
wearing a short skirt on a ski vacation, or that sweater with the band around
her pretty throat. She’d
better
not
be wearing that sweater, or he wasn’t at all sure he could answer for the
consequences. A man only had so much self-control, and he had a bad feeling
that he’d reached his limit.

Rae smiled in satisfaction, sat on the edge of Alec’s desk,
pulled his phone around to face her, and punched buttons. “No time like the present,”
she informed the two men.

Joe heard the ringing, then Alyssa’s voice. “Hello? Alec?”

“It’s Rae. I’m sitting here with Alec and Joe, and we’re
planning a ski trip over President’s Day. You’ve got that off, right?”

“Right,” Alyssa said.

“Want to come, then?” Rae asked. “We’re going
to—somewhere,” she laughed, “some ski area up at Lake Tahoe on Saturday,
and I’m going to ski there on Sunday, too, or hang out at the lodge drinking
hot chocolate, more likely, and Alec and Joe are going backcountry skiing. I
don’t even know what that is, but I gather it’s some heroic thing that Joe
does, way beyond my comfort level. What do you think? Want to come?”

“Really?” Joe could hear the longing in Alyssa’s voice.
“I’ve always wanted to try backcountry skiing.” She sounded as excited as . . .
well, as excited as his last girlfriend, Vanessa, would have been if the topic
had been a vacation to Tahiti.

Joe surrendered to the inevitable. “You’re welcome to come
along for that too,” he said. “It isn’t much more technical than what you’d be
doing if you were skiing the tougher slopes at a resort. Only difference is, no
lifts to get you up there.”

“You need special equipment, though, don’t you?” she asked.

Alec looked the question at Joe, and Joe nodded. “Yeah,” he
told Alyssa. “Boots, skis, bindings, skins for going uphill. But you can rent
all that.”

“Oh.” He heard the flat tones of her disappointment. “I shouldn’t.
Not with the lift ticket and everything. I could do one or the other, maybe,
but not both. I should probably stick to the ski area with Rae. But that’d be
great,” she added quickly.

“Oh,” Rae said breezily, “Alec and I can take care of that,
the ticket and the equipment rental. I don’t have skis at all, and Alec doesn’t
have all those things Joe’s talking about. And really?” she broke off to ask
Joe. “You need
all
different stuff?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, and he had to smile. “That’s half the
fun, getting all the different gear, needing to upgrade.”

She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the
phone. “We’ll go together and get it all,” she told Alyssa. “That’s no problem.”

“I shouldn’t,” Alyssa said, but she didn’t sound convinced.

Alec sighed. “Why can’t I have
one
happily dependent woman in my life? It makes no difference to
us, Liss. It’s just a lift ticket and a few days’ ski rental, not a Maserati.
So come on, say yes so I can wrap this up and take Desiree out of here. It’s
dinnertime, and I’m hungry.”