JUDGING ELLIE Page 3

  "You heard her, gentlemen. Leave."

  Something in the man’s stance, the tone of his voice, made the two Marines pause rather than continue to pursue the issue. Giving each other a look, they turned and left.

  The muscles beneath her fingertips shifted as he turned again to face her. "We’ll have to keep an eye out for those two. They don’t seem like they give up easily. Are you all right? They didn’t seem your type…or were they?"

  His hair was brown and combed flat against his head. A short, neat beard added sophistication. Dark eyes looked down at her with concern.

  "No, no," Ellie reassured him, distracted by his rakish good looks. "I don’t even know them." She flushed, knowing how naive she sounded. "I mean, they were playing a game with me and I was too stupid to realize it."

  He paused. "I would’ve thought a woman would be flattered to have the attentions of two military men."

  "Those two don’t exactly match my priority list."

  "And just what qualities do fit this list of yours?"

  "Ellie, are you okay?" Susan’s panicked voice rushed up behind her. "Jeremy and I just wanted to get out and dance for a while. We shouldn’t have left you alone. And then those jarheads were bothering you. I’m sorry."

  Ellie dropped her hands from the broad shoulders and pulled away. Her fingertips tingled, branded with the feel of warm, taut muscles.

  "Ellie’s fine. I think it was a case of mistaken identity." Her rescuer’s voice was low, but carried over the crowd noise with ease. "I don’t think they’ll be returning to bother anyone."

  "Thanks to you." She stared into his dark eyes and tried to say more, to say anything that would prolong this moment, but her heart was pounding so hard, she could only manage a small smile. She berated herself for her tongue-tied inability to flirt.

  Susan started walking toward the stairs. "I can see you’re going to have to be watched every second. You’re blind as a bat and helpless as a newborn kitten."

  "I’d like to ask your friend for a dance, if you don’t mind." He halted Ellie’s retreat with a gentle touch to her shoulder, then stepped closer and repeated himself. "I’d like to dance with you."

  Susan gave her a look, the one that said, "Let me know right now if you need rescuing."

  Adventure—remember this night is supposed to be about adventure. "I’d love to dance with you…" She halted, waiting.

  "Kurt." He smiled. "My name is Kurt."

  "It’s nice to meet you, Kurt." She smiled back.

  "Have fun, you two." Susan stared at him for a long moment, then gave a small smile and disappeared into the crowd.

  He led her to the center of the dance floor, directly underneath the largest twirling globe. The reflections from a thousand multicolored lights flowed over them like a rainbow of fire. The music was a fast samba beat, demanding that the listeners give themselves over to the rhythm.

  At first, Ellie wasn’t sure she would be able to keep up with her partner. Her dancing skills were sadly lacking. Kurt’s sinuous grace and easy style more than made up for her lack of experience, and she found herself moving naturally, and to her surprise, gracefully.

  Dancing had never been a pleasure for her before. As a tall, gangly teenager, she hadn’t dated enough to become at ease on the dance floor. But now? Her long, red hair swirled around them like a crimson silk curtain as she spun in the circle of Kurt’s arms. Dance after dance, each more magical than the last. Ellie felt energized, liberated.

  The Latin music slid into a slow, intimate love song. The club lights dimmed low, men and women formed couples in the shadows, figures backlit by the few lamps beneath the edges of the dance floor.

  Ellie stopped, unsure. Would he want to keep dancing, or more likely, use this transition as a polite excuse to leave the floor? Surely a total stranger wouldn’t want to slow dance with her.

  To her surprise, Kurt gathered her close, his strong hands at the small of her back. She could feel their warmth on the bare skin exposed between the silken top and her leather skirt. Hesitating for a moment, she slid her hands up the front of his soft silk shirt and let her fingers rest lightly on the tops of his shoulders.

  He looked at her, his eyes dark pools in the pale shadow of his face. "This is all right, isn’t it?" he asked.

  Her heels put them both at about the same level and she realized how very intimate it was to dance with someone her own height.

  She nodded and relaxed against his chest.

  The music rolled over them in waves of sensuous longing. They moved slowly in a gentle circle, while Kurt’s skill kept them from brushing up against the other oblivious couples. Each movement of his hips brought them lightly together, sending waves of sharp awareness through her body.

  Ellie bit her lip, trying not to shiver with the force of her new feelings. Say something. Say anything, before you burn up in a puff of sexual energy. "You’re an excellent dancer."

  "Thank my little sister," he replied, a hint of humor note in his voice.

  "Pardon?" She glanced up, but could only see the side of his jaw. The beard cloaked his face in velvety darkness.

  "My sister insisted I learn how to dance because she felt that men who danced well were true gentlemen." Humor again edged his tone.

  "She must be proud of how well you dance now." Ellie offered another smile. "Does she live around here?"

  "No," he replied bluntly in a flat voice that brooked no more questions.

  Ellie winced. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry."

  Kurt said nothing, just spun them slowly toward the edge of the dancing couples, closer to the exit, so when the song finally stopped, they were near the stairway leading up to the bar. Then he stepped away.

  Good job, Ellie. You finally find a man who is nice and polite and can even dance, and you start asking personal questions.

  "Thank you for dancing with me." Nothing like going from wonderful to feeling awkward and embarrassed. Turning, she started to climb the stairs, looking around the seated tables for Jeremy and Susan.

  "Where are you going?" He moved up beside her. "I was hoping you’d sit and have a drink with me. I don’t know about your feet in those beautiful shoes, but my poor old dogs are killing me."

  He held out one hand to her.

  Ellie hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "That would be really nice, thanks."

  She accepted his hand and he escorted her to a small, dark table for two. They ordered wine and they talked about everyday things…safe things.

  * * *

  Kurt decided she really was strikingly beautiful. The Marines hadn’t exaggerated. But if even half of what he’d heard about her was true, she had the soul of a viper. He offered up a smile and ordered Ellie another glass of wine.

  Ellie. A rather pedestrian name for a sexual predator.

  She laughed. "I’m getting more than a little lightheaded. Just one more, then I’ve had my limit." She crossed one long leg over the other.

  From his vantage point, Kurt caught a glimpse of black lace grazing the top of her shapely thigh. No panty hose for this lady; she wore thigh highs.

  What better to tempt a man?

  The mini-skirt fit like a second skin and left nothing to his imagination. When she sat, it inched up and he found himself interested in seeing what lay in the dark shadow above the lace. Crossing her legs was, he knew, a deliberate ploy to draw his eyes to her obvious charms. Very well, he’d match her opening gambit with one of his own.

  Reaching out, he gently picked up her left wrist from where it rested on the table, turned it over and traced the outline of her slender fingers with his thumb.

  She flushed and fanned her free hand against the hollow of her slim throat.

  "Would you like to step outside for a few minutes?" He looked at her face, all curves and shadows in the half-light of the bar. He wished he could see the expression in her eyes more clearly, but the light was too dim. "The smoke is getting to me and I wouldn’t mind getting some fresh air." />
  She hesitated. He could sense her indecision, so he turned on his most magnetic grin. "We can stand next to the door if you feel uncomfortable being alone with me. I promise I won’t ask you to sit on my lap."

  She laughed, relaxed, and nodded.

  For a cold-hearted bitch, she had a nice laugh—strong and clear. It wouldn’t save her this time, though.

  After retrieving their jackets from the coat check, he escorted her out to the front entryway where they had their hands stamped with the Oasis palm tree logo that permitted reentry. Stepping outside into the cool desert air, they walked along the front of the building over to a few stone benches that had been placed outside for those people waiting for cabs.

  The air was crisp and smelled of dry sagebrush and spicy desert creosote. The crescent moon rode high, a thin icy sliver in the air. It was a perfect night for seduction.

  Kurt’s conversation flowed as easily as his dancing. He drew her out with skill, inquired about her likes and dislikes in movies and food. Asked if she had any pets and feigned interest in her cat.

  "You must be a spy," she said with a hint of a laugh.

  "What?" He tensed. His friendly mask slipped. "Why do you say that?"

  Ellie shyly averted her gaze. "I mean, you really have the ability to put people at their ease and get them to talk with you. I’m not usually this chatty."

  Kurt relaxed and forced his persona more firmly into place. He’d have to be more careful. She was a little tipsy, but still pretty astute. Perhaps he needed something to throw her off balance.

  Leaning over, he slowly dusted his lips across hers, letting the warmth of his breath steal across her mouth like a caress.

  Her huge eyes flew open in surprise.

  He waited.

  With a small sigh of pleasure, she relaxed and offered her mouth to him.

  He tasted her with the care of an explorer mapping a new territory for the first time. A brush of his tongue over her lower lip, just touching the pearly teeth behind. She tasted of warm wine and sweetness.

  Ellie made a small noise of pleasure deep in her throat, then sat up abruptly.

  "It’s getting late." She tilted her head. Her hair covered her face so he couldn’t read her expression. "I really need to find my friends so I can get a ride home."

  Kurt wondered if she was as skilled a tease as she seemed. He had to learn her last name or even better, find out where she lived.

  "Why don’t you wait here? I’ll go back inside and tell your girlfriend you’re ready to go." He cupped her knee. "You shouldn’t have to go back into that mob. It’ll just take me a minute or two, okay?"

  Relief softened her face. "Yes, thank you. The smoke was really getting to me."

  Kurt walked back inside, showing his stamp at the door to the bouncer who greeted him by name. He didn’t go looking for the woman who had accompanied Ellie. Instead, he walked around the corner to the coatroom, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed.

  "Jess? Kurt. Yes. She’s here. She’s a real tease all right, trying to put me in the role of protector."

  He rubbed his aching thigh while Jess rambled off the instructions Kurt knew all too well. Too much dancing had put a strain on the scarred muscles.

  "Fine, fine. No, I haven’t gotten her last name yet, but I’m going to try to take her home. That should allow us to back trace her full name from her residence. I’ll see you tomorrow."

  He hung up and checked his watch. Enough time had passed to make it plausible he had searched the club for Ellie’s companion. He walked back outside, shaking his head, and put apology into his voice.

  "I’m sorry, I can’t find her anywhere. I think they may have left. Why don’t I just give you a ride home? It isn’t any problem."

  Ellie looked undecided. She tightened her arms around herself in the cool night air.

  "It really isn’t any trouble," he assured her. "I don’t mind giving a ride to you, and if you want to make sure I’m not a serial killer, you can go ask Dougie the bouncer over there. He knows who I am and will vouch for me."

  She nodded and smiled. "You’re right. I’m just feeling a little cautious. Thanks, Kurt. You’ve been so nice to me tonight, I feel lucky to have met you."

  Luck had nothing to do with it, sweetheart.

  Chapter 3

  * * *

  "Eleanor!"

  Bernadette McFee’s shrill voice pierced Ellie’s cocoon of sleep, echoing up to her quiet bedroom from the living room below.

  "Eleanor, I’m borrowing your Walkman."

  The voice drew nearer. She was coming up the stairs. Nothing fazed the woman. Privacy was a foreign word to her.

  "Eleanor, this is very inconveniencing for me. I know you’re still here. I saw your car in the garage."

  Ellie opened her gummy lids a crack and peered out. The petite blonde breezed into Ellie’s bedroom and picked her way through piles of dropped party clothing as if afraid mere contact with them would soil her expensive linen suit and silk blouse.

  She groaned, glanced at her bedside clock, and tried to turtle back under the warm bedclothes. Being around her neighbor and landlord was a painful experience, even under the best of circumstances, but especially so at 7:40 in the morning when she had a pounding headache.

  7:40 in the morning!

  She was late for work!

  "Ohmigod!" She leaped from bed, scattering pillows and ignoring the affronted Bernadette as she grabbed her glasses from the night stand and dove into the walk-in closet.

  No time for a shower.

  If she wasn’t in the courtroom in twenty minutes, the judge would crucify her. She was never late—never! But the late night coupled with lingering images of Kurt made her forget to set her alarm. Or perhaps she’d slept through it.

  "This room smells terrible." Bernadette’s shrill voice filtered in through the closet door. "Like an ashtray. If the carpeting absorbs the odor, I’m going to have to charge you for a cleaning service."

  Ellie yanked off her nightshirt, grabbed a clean pair of underpants and bra, then fumbled around on the floor of her closet for an olive drab T-shirt. Her shapeless camouflage uniform was hanging on a hook, waiting to be ironed. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. The T-shirt wasn’t clean and her uniform was creased. She’d planned to do her laundry before Susan and Jeremy arrived, but everything got so hectic, that little domestic detail had slipped her mind.

  "Eleanor, you aren’t paying attention."

  Would Bernadette’s rambling tirade ever cease? Why didn’t she just go home?

  "I said I was looking for that Walkman I saw you with yesterday."

  "On the windowsill." Ellie burst out of the closet, buttoning her cammie blouse with one hand and her trousers with the other. She groped underneath the bed for her heavy black military boots. At least they were clean and polished. One positive thing in her favor.

  "You got in late last night." Bernadette’s china doll blue eyes narrowed her way. One immaculately manicured finger toyed with the red wig Ellie had dropped on the dresser in her desire to get into bed. "And what is this, pray tell?"

  Ellie’s mind raced. She had to get out of the house now or she’d be late for work. She also had no intention of telling her prying bitch of a landlady anything about the previous night’s big adventure.

  "It’s a prop wig for my church’s upcoming Christmas pageant." She twisted her unruly dark curls into a tight bun at the nape of her neck and grabbed her car keys off the dresser. "I have to go now. Good-bye."

  "And I saw a man dropping you off at the door." Bernadette stayed rooted to her spot, blocking Ellie’s exit. "I don’t seem to remember you mentioning having a brother who lives around here. Are you"—she smirked—"seeing anyone, perhaps? Or what is the polite term for that sort of activity these days?"

  Ellie snarled inwardly. Interfering witch. One day, she was going to get up the guts to tell Miss Priss where to go. Instead, she ignored the woman and edged around her.

  Bernadette trotted d
own the stairs after her. "I can take a hint." She paused near the door and looked Ellie up and down. "You know, late nights don’t seem to agree with you, but then, I suppose you know that from previous experience." With that remark, the woman made her exit.

  Ellie noticed Bernadette had left the Walkman on the windowsill. She had probably never wanted it in the first place. Bernadette’s idea of exercise was an all-day shopping spree in one of Palm Springs’ exclusive boutiques.

  The condo’s rent was pretty reasonable, but the fact Bernadette used her landlord’s pass key to visit Ellie whenever she needed something—a bottle of wine, a magazine, food—really irked Ellie. She valued her privacy above all things.

  7:45. Damn, damn, damn.

  She fumbled her way through her dark, book-piled living room and into her tiny kitchen. Ellie rifled the pantry for the box of cat chow and shook a cupful into Hades’ bowl, ignoring his look of feline disgust.

  "Don’t start with me, cat," she muttered. "I’m having a very bad morning." She scooped her wallet off the kitchen table and tried not to look at her watch again.

  The garage she shared with Bernadette’s adjoining condominium was quiet; no sign of her nosy neighbor. Thank goodness for small favors. Bernadette was probably calling one of her cronies to report the incident.

  Ellie punched the button for the garage door opener, started up her old red Volkswagen bug and backed out with a roar, careful not to get too near Bernadette’s new Thunderbird convertible. One scratch and she’d be in small claims court for sure.

  Susan was always threatening to tell Bernadette off for her, but Ellie didn’t want to have to move. She liked living close to work, and the condo was snug and homey with lots of room for her books and window ledges for Hades to perch upon.

  Susan. Some friend she turned out to be. How could she and Jeremy just leave the club without her? Did they have any idea how uncomfortable she was accepting a ride home from a stranger? Okay, so he was a good looking, charming stranger, but he was still a stranger.

  Fuming, she sped down the road. Her little car’s wheels squealed around the corner. How dare they run off and leave her to fend for herself? She squeezed the metal horn lever. Her Bug emitted a series of sharp, angry bleats. A jack rabbit darted for cover beneath a smoke tree. The release felt good. She gripped the horn again. Susan was going to get an earful from her at lunch.