Fast & Loose Elizabeth Bevarly (bts book recommendations .txt) 📖

he said, frazzling her thoughts even more thanks to the way he said it, all familiar and friendly and soft and sexy. No way did aliens from the planet X12 have voices like that.

“Hey,” she replied absently, hoping she didn’t sound as confused as she felt. How had he known where she was staying? More to the point, why had he cared where she was staying? What was he doing here anyway? Considering the way they’d parted Friday night—with him looking at her as if she were a complete moron who’d broken into her own home, which, okay, maybe only a moron would do—she would have thought the last thing he wanted was to run into her again. Especially on purpose.

Just as he had before, he seemed to hear her mental questions as if she’d spoken them aloud. “I needed to see you,” he told her. Then, as if he’d said something he shouldn’t, he rushed on, “I mean, I need to talk to you about something.”

“How did you know where to find me?” she asked.

He kind of made a face in response to that, one that indicated he wasn’t all that happy to have to respond. “I figured if I was renting your house, you had to be staying with someone. Since you and Bree seem joined at the hip, I took a chance it was her.”

“Bree’s not listed in the phone book,” she pointed out.

His gaze glanced off of hers. “No, but she’s in your phone book.”

It took a moment for that to register. She hadn’t exactly gone out of her way to hide her address book, but neither had it been lying out in the open. It was in her office closet, on the top shelf, in a basket she used for a catchall. She hadn’t used her address book for some time, either. Meaning it was probably close to the bottom of that basket.

“You went through my office closet?” she asked.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “It was an emergency.”

“Jeez, what else have you gone through while you were there?”

“Oh, come on,” he said. “What kind of a guy do you think I am?”

He sounded genuinely stung when he replied. And really, she supposed the question had been unfair. Even a guy like Cole Early wouldn’t rifle through a woman’s personal things. If nothing else, he didn’t have the time. And anyway, there were women lining up in every bar in Louisville just begging to show him their personal things. What would he need with hers?

And, hey, hadn’t she gone through some of his personal things at her house Friday night? Granted, the stack of papers on her desk had mostly been e-mail and records related to a horse farm he evidently owned and operated in California and had ended up being not personal at all. But she hadn’t known that when she started glancing at—okay, voraciously reading—them. They could have included all kinds of personal stuff about him. They just hadn’t. Dammit.

“I didn’t want to wake anyone ringing the bell,” he continued. “So I figured I’d just wait until you came out.”

“Okay, so here I am. And now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he offered.

“I take the bus to work,” she said.

His smile fell. “You don’t own a car?”

By his tone of voice, he might as well have just asked, You have a body buried in your backyard?

“I own a car,” she told him. “But I don’t use it unless I have to. My work is right on the bus line, and taking the bus is better for the environment.”

She could almost see the mental roll of his eyes. Fine, she thought. He could just be that way. It was no skin off her nose if he wanted to be environmentally irresponsible. Just see how he liked it when the only glacier left in the world was the limp ice cube melting in the virus-ridden water that accompanied his bland, genetically engineered burger he enjoyed al fresco in one-hundred-and-twenty degree temperature while his melanoma slowly killed him.

Not that Lulu wanted to paint a bleak picture of the future or anything. But such thoughts did inspire her to take the bus to work.

“Then let me give you a lift,” he said.

“Thanks, but I can’t accept,” she told him. “I do a lot of my work on the bus, and today’s one of those days where I really need the extra time.” Which was true. She was still making sketches for one of the pieces she was working on.

“I promise not to say a word in the car once I tell you why I need to see you.”

“I can’t, Cole, I’m sorry. Thank you anyway.” Hoping to appease him long enough to make her escape, she added, “Maybe another time.”

She lifted a hand in farewell and started toward the bus stop, three blocks away. She’d missed the 8:05, but if she hurried, she might make the one at 8:20.

“Then meet me after work somewhere,” he called after her, his voice close enough that she knew he was following her.

She turned, but kept walking backward, casting a glance over her shoulder every few seconds to make sure she wasn’t going to run into anyone on the busy sidewalk. She was tired of wondering what the hell was going on, so she asked him flat out, “Why? Why were you waiting for me this morning? What could you possibly have to tell me?”

He hesitated for a second, then doubled his pace to catch up with her. When he did, she turned to walk forward again, increasing her own speed.

“I just need to talk to you,” he said. Then he hesitated, as if he were reluctant to say more.

“About what?”

Instead of answering, he expelled an exasperated breath and said, “Just meet me someplace where we can talk. Please, Lulu? Please?”

There was something in the way he voiced that last word that made her go all hot fudge sundae inside, so warm, gooey, and