Indelibly Intimate (4 page)

He blew out the breath he’d been subconsciously holding. “Why don’t you think about it?” Coming to his feet, he jammed a hand in his pocket and closed his fingers around a business card. “Here. My number’s on the back of the card. You can call me.”

She started to reach for the rectangle of paper he held out to her but then she hesitated. “I don’t know…”

“You’ve got to take the card anyway. Your aftercare instructions are on it and I want to know if you have any problems healing.” He didn’t let his disappointment show. He’d have enjoyed spending time with her. But if the attraction was one-sided, he sure wasn’t going to be a dick about it.

“Okay.” She snatched the card and stuffed it into the front pocket of her purse as if she was ashamed of it. “Seriously, though, what do I owe you?”

“Fifty bucks.”

Her jaw went slack and she stared at him. “You’re kidding. There’s no way.”

He shrugged. “I told you I’d cut you a deal. That’s the deal. If you’d rather change your mind and come to the convention with me, there’s a hundred percent discount on that price.”

The corner of her mouth lifted in a reluctant half-smile. “I honestly can’t.” Her hand disappeared into the cavernous purse again. She opened up her wallet and snatched out a hundred-dollar bill. “Here. I know it’s not anywhere near enough, but…”

“It’s too much. I said fifty and I meant fifty. Let me go get you some change.”

Without looking at her again, Hammer took the bill into the lobby and rounded the counter where the cash box was kept. Ducking low, he riffled through the messy contents to come up with her correct change.

“Here. Fifty bucks back.” He stood at the corner of the counter and held out the wrinkled fifty-dollar bill.

She smiled up at him, her huge bag hanging from her shoulder. “Thanks, Hammer.” She stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck. She brushed a quick kiss on his lips. Her soft breath blew across his mouth and her sweet tongue brushed his.

“Bye,” she said with a laugh as she twisted open the deadbolt on the front door. She was gone, leaving Hammer standing there, still holding that damn fifty.

“Young Mr. Dean,” he said, going back around the counter to swap the bills again, “you are a dumbass.”

He cleaned down his equipment in a fog, haunted by long legs and wicked eyes.

Chapter Four

Quinn drove home, excited by her new tattoo and slightly uneasy about Hammer. Should she have taken him up on his offer? It was too damn tempting. She’d been about to accept when she’d thought of Guy. She told herself she was over him. But going to a tattoo convention with a different man?

The thought hit a little too close to home. Guy was the first man she’d ever loved and the wound was too fresh. She wasn’t ready for that kind of thing. Maybe if she’d spent some time with Hammer, gotten to know him, maybe then she could have said yes. But the gorgeous artist was too much a stranger and Quinn couldn’t trust him quite yet.

The three flights of stairs seemed longer tonight. It might have been the dull ache on her thigh. Even though Hammer had a light touch, any large tattoo was no picnic, and she winced in relief when she finally got to her floor.

“About damn time,” she muttered as she fumbled with her keys.

She dropped her purse by the door and hit the light switch.

“Goddammit,” she sighed when nothing happened.
Stupid bulb must have blown again
.
She wandered through the darkness toward the kitchen. With a dull thud, her shin connected with an ottoman. Wincing in pain, she held the wall for support, groping in the blackness for the kitchen light switch. She flicked it upward. Nothing happened.

“Are you
fucking kidding me
?” Rage bubbled up in Quinn. She slammed her fist against the wall. “You goddamn
asshole
.”

Slumping to the cool linoleum, she held her face in her hands. She’d dropped off a check for the light bill yesterday. The money had been there the night before, she was sure of it. It wasn’t the total owed but it should have been enough to keep the lights on. She’d let some other things slide to give them that much. But yet again Guy Dionis had done a number on her, snatching the last dimes from their joint bank account like the Grinch and the crumbs from the Whos’ houses. If only she’d realized a month ago that he wasn’t coming back, she could have changed banks in time to keep this from happening. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She wanted to cry but it wouldn’t change a damn thing. Knocking her skull against the wall didn’t dull her frustration but she did it anyway. She’d moved to this town to live with Guy. His friends were her friends. Since he’d bolted, she’d been almost completely without allies. Her family had disowned her when she dropped out of college to move in with Guy. Other than Kim at work, there wasn’t anybody she could depend on. And with Kim’s family busting at the seams, no way Quinn could impose on her.

An idea whacked her in the back of the head, harder than even the wall, and she scrambled to her feet to find her purse. After nearly stepping on it in the darkness, she scooped it up and stalked out the door to borrow a phone. Hopefully, help was only a call to Hammer away.

She tried knocking on four different apartment doors before someone answered. Unfortunately, only her neighbor Mr. Oberlin was at home. The little old man tended to ogle her but Quinn was so desperate she didn’t give a shit.

“Hey, sir, could I borrow your phone? I’m having a little trouble with mine.”

The wheezy cough he gave was accompanied by a big smile. Quinn tried to ignore the fact that he didn’t have his false teeth in.

“Of course, darlin’. Come on in.”

Quinn followed the short gnomelike man into his apartment, trying to ignore the large number of stuffed furry critters lining the walls.

Hammer picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hammer? Oh thank god. Listen, it’s Quinn. Quinn LaBrea? We just met?”

His voice was a little confused. “Yeah, Sparky. What’s wrong?”

“Can I change my mind? About the convention? I hate to ask but I kind of need that money back, it’s sort of a situation. I’m not the kind of person who would take advantage of people but you did offer, and something’s come up now that I could really use that money back. Anyway, do you think it might be? Possible, I mean?” Even though Quinn could feel the ridiculous string of words flowing from her mouth like verbal diarrhea, she could no more stop them than she could generate electricity for the lights without the power company’s help.

When his answer came, she thought she’d collapse in relief. Well, she would have if she’d been anywhere but Mr. Oberlin’s apartment. Who the hell knew what that old perv would do to an unconscious female.

After a few hastily sketched plans, Quinn thanked Hammer and hung up the phone.

“It’d be mighty nice if you could stay a while,” Mr. Oberlin said from the ratty recliner in the corner of the room. His beady eyes glinted at her like a rat’s. “I can make you some iced tea.”

“No thanks,” Quinn said with a tight smile. “I’ve got to be meeting somebody. You take care, sir.”

She walked briskly out the door, ignoring the wheezy protestations of her geriatric neighbor.

Her sneakers didn’t make a sound on the steps down to her car.
Five-eight-three-two Riverbend Road. Five-eight-three-two Riverbend Road.
Ugh
, I need a shower now. Five-eight-three…

Her faithful Honda cranked like a dream and she was on her way to meet Hammer only seconds later. At least she’d had enough money to fill up her gas tank. A thought crossed her mind as she stopped at a red light—worst-case scenario, she could live in her car for a few days.

If she hadn’t already been still, she’d have slammed on the brakes. Live in
her car
? What the hell? Was she honestly going to let Guy force her to become homeless because of his disappearing act?

She shook her head vehemently and resumed her journey as the light flicked green. She had a lot of thinking to do.

Riverbend Road was near the gas station where she’d met Hammer. After waiting for a blue pickup to pass, Quinn turned smoothly onto the street.

“Okay, we need fifty-eight thirty-two,” Quinn said aloud, peering through the hazy veil of night at the house numbers. “Hang on…”

These houses were in the one thousands. She had a ways to go before reaching the address Hammer had given her. Shifting in the driver’s seat, she changed the radio to the hard-rock station. She could use the numbing some wicked drums could give her right now.

After one song, the neighborhoods on Riverbend had cleaned up a lot. After two, the houses were newer and larger. After a round of commercials and the first verse of song three, Quinn finally arrived at number 5832, her car rolling to a stop at the curb.

“Holy shit,” she whispered as she looked up at the huge house.

The sprawling three-story home was lit with recessed floods hidden deep in the manicured lawn. Clearly, this section of Riverbend was home to some very old money.

Hammer lived here? Why the hell was he working in that shitty little tattoo shop with the grimy windows and the cracked sign? This had been a dumb idea. She didn’t know him, he didn’t know her, and he was obviously way out of her league.

With a heavy sigh, she reached for the gearshift. Best to get the hell out of Dodge now, before he saw her…

Tattooed knuckles rapped on her window. A sharp scream escaped her before she realized who it was.

“Holy shit, Hammer, you scared the crap out of me.”

With a lazy smile, her tattoo artist mimed cutting the engine. She was caught now. No way to back out without looking like even more of a psycho. With a reluctant sigh, she killed the engine and stepped out.

“Hey.” She slammed the door and awkwardly smoothed her skirt. “Sorry, I thought I had the wrong place.”

“You do,” he said. “This is my parents’ house. I had to stop by to pick up something. You ready?”

He thumped the hood of the car.

“Where are we going?”

“Over to my place. Don’t worry. I’ll keep my hands to myself.” He winked at her then crossed to a motorcycle parked behind a large oak. “Just follow me, Sparky. I don’t live far.”

“What if I don’t want you to keep your hands to yourself?” she asked beneath her breath as she got back into her car.

Watching as he donned his helmet, she sighed. Another motorcycle. Another tattoo artist. History was really freaking repeating.

“The more things change for Quinn LaBrea, the more she makes the same mistakes.” Even saying it aloud didn’t stop her from cranking the engine and following the Harley onto Riverbend Road.

The night breeze kissed Hammer’s cheeks as his motorcycle roared beneath him, hugging the curves of the road. His blood pumped hard, adrenaline buzzing through his veins more than it usually did when he was on his bike. He was pretty damn sure it had a lot to do with the girl tailing him in an old burgundy Honda.

Maybe it had been a bad idea to show her his parents’ house. After all, he wasn’t getting along well with good old Mom and Dad lately. But he’d wanted to impress her and his condo wasn’t exactly a stunner.

Why do you care so much what she thinks?
He shook the logical voice away and punched the gas harder.

His two-story condo, only five minutes away from the large family home on Riverbend, nestled snugly into a neighborhood with a playground and a swimming pool. Hammer pulled his bike onto the walk in front of his home and motioned for Quinn to park in his space. She did so, glancing around curiously as she stepped out of the car.

“This is a cute neighborhood. Not what I expected.”

“They were all out of rooms at the crack house downtown.”

“I didn’t mean…” she started but he waved and laughed.

“Don’t worry about it. Just yanking your chain.”

Quinn followed him up the walk to the door. “Listen, I appreciate you letting me change my mind about the convention. I hated to even ask but when I got home and the lights were out, I really didn’t have a choice.”

He wanted to grin but he pretended indifference. “You should bunk over then. You can’t stay in an apartment with no lights.” He fished in his pocket for his house key.

“It’s sweet of you to offer but it’s not necessary. I’ve got a flashlight and it’s not too hot tonight, so I’ll be fine.”

His keys jingled as he pushed the correct one into the lock. “If you’d rather stay in a dark and stuffy apartment, be my guest. If you like cold showers then hey, don’t let me stop you. But,” he said, swinging open the door, “if you’re a fan of Jacuzzi tubs, cold beer and homemade pizza, then please, come in.”

He stood there in the entryway, holding the door open. If he didn’t want her to stay, he’d have laughed at her puzzled indecision. But he kept it cool and waited her out.

She sighed, running her fingers through her bangs. “Okay. Only for tonight. I need to go home and get some stuff though. I didn’t bring pajamas or my toothbrush or anything.” Her shoes clicked on the tiled floor as she came in. Hammer fought the urge to whoop at his small victory.

“Come in, sit down. I’ve got you covered. I just went to the dentist, so I’ve got a brand-new toothbrush, and I’ve got a tee shirt you can use to sleep in.”

“Were you a Boy Scout?” she asked him as she sat on his white leather couch. “You’re awfully prepared.”

“I made it all the way to Eagle, lady.” He gave a mock bow and smiled when she laughed.

“An Eagle Scout tattoo artist. That’s a combination you don’t see every day.” She rubbed the arm of the couch, her eyes vibrant as she looked at him.

If he let her, she’d be under his skin in no time. He cleared his throat and bent down to remove his boots. “You want a drink?”

She sighed, falling back against the cushions. “An Eagle Scout tattoo artist mind reader.”

Hammer laughed and left her to move into the kitchen. He cracked open a Blue Moon for himself and one for her, taking the extra minute to cut a wedge of orange for each of them, setting the fragrant fruit in the necks of the bottles.

“God, you’re an angel.” Her delicate fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle.

“I’m a lot of things but ‘angel’ isn’t one of them. Enjoy your drink. I’ll be back soon.”

She’d finished her first beer by the time he rolled out the dough he’d had resting in the refrigerator. Her second was gone as the pepperoni hit the pie. Her third, when Hammer’s culinary masterpiece went into the oven. By the time the pizza was actually done, his beer stash was dangerously low and she was way past tipsy and into the completely trashed stage.

“It’s time to eat,” he said, leaning against the wall between the kitchen and living area. “Are you going to be able to walk to the kitchen under your own power there, Sparky?”

“I’m jusht great,” she slurred, blinking at him hard. “It’sh been a long day, thatsh all.” She shoved herself to her now-bare feet, swaying like a sailor on rough seas. “I don’t normally drink thish mush, jusht so you know.”

She made it three steps on her own but on the fourth she tripped over her abandoned shoes. She pitched forward and only Hammer’s quick thinking prevented her from taking a nosedive into the carpet.

“Come on,” he said, setting her upright. “Let’s get some food in you to soak up all that alcohol. You’re going to feel like shit in the morning, you know that, right?”

“You feel sho good. All these nishe muschles.” She snuggled against his chest, her ear piercings rubbing his nipple. “You musht work out.”