Page 12 of Silver Edge
Instead of jumping back from him, I paused, relishing the moment of contact with another person.
“What is it?”
I let out a long breath, and still his touch didn’t make me want to scream in panic. With a reluctant step backward, I tugged my hand from his. “Nothing.” I wiped my sweaty palm on my skinny jeans. “Who is she?”
“That’s my grandmother. She’s part of the reason I own this place. When my parents died, I inherited this place. She encouraged me to pursue my dreams instead of playing it safe, so on my twenty-fourth birthday, I took my fancy degree and decided to run this place.” His voice plunged into a black hole of regret, into thatwhat ifplace where so many souls seemed to wander lost forever. “I had dreams of finding talent and giving them a place to entertain people with their gifts. Not too bright, huh? A year later, and this place is almost bankrupt.” He lowered the frame gingerly to the desk.
“I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to lose your parents. Well, parent anyway.” What the hell was I doing, telling him about my life? He didn’t need a resume; he wasn’t offering me a job.
He nudged forward until his knee touched my thigh. His finger grazed my jeans before he lifted a hand to my face. Brushing his thumb across my cheek, he whispered, “I’m sorry for your loss, too.”
My breath pinballed, bouncing everywhere but out. I stepped back. Part of me wanted more of this, to touch and be touched without the bone-gnawing pain that usually came with it. But that would lead somewhere quick, a place I wouldn’t return from. “Yeah, well, we’ve all lost someone.”
“You don’t like to talk about it?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I’m not the sharing type.”
He stood to his over six-foot height of magnificent perfection and closed the gap between us. “I’m not really the talking type, either, but sometimes when you find people that you have something in common with, it feels good to share. Like they know what you’re going through or something.”
“You sound like a shrink,” I mumbled while redirecting my attention to the food on the side table. Dang it, my stomach was too busy doing an obnoxious line dance to pay attention, and I couldn’t imagine swallowing another greasy fry, but I needed sustenance before my skinny ass disappeared entirely.
He set one foot on top of the scarred coffee table. “I’ve been called many things. A shrink isn’t one of them. You’re so different from the women I know. Where’d you come from?”
I lowered the fry back to the plate. Great, I’d weirded him out already. I’d tried so hard to hide my crazy. “What do you mean? I’m not some alien or anything.”
He waved his hands in front of him. “No, I mean, have you lived in Atlanta long? When did you lose your parents?”
“Parent. I lost her when I was nine. The sperm donor didn’t stick around. He was the artist type and needed to be free, or something.” I rolled my eyes. “I just moved to Atlanta last week.”
“Where from?” He sat at the chair by my side.
“Listen, if you want to know personal shit about me, I’ll write it on an application. If you’re not offering me a job, then we’re done here.” I shoved from the chair, knocking food all over the floor. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” I fell to my knees and scooped the food back onto the plate.
“Hey, it’s no big deal. In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t exactly a classy joint.” He snagged my wrists and held them still. My heart did some tympanic symphony so loud I was sure he could hear it. My ears still rang from the loud music, but now the beat of my pulse joined in. His hands wrapped completely around my small wrists and before I could discern the feeling, one of his hands moved to tip my chin up. “You okay? You know I won’t hurt you, right?”
I swallowed, one of those hard swallows you feel all the way to your toes. Despite the haze of all that was Drake, I lifted my head a little higher. “I can take care of myself. I’m not scared of anyone. I’m just a klutz.”
“Listen, it’s late. I’ll grab a bag of food for you to take and I’ll see you home. Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll be here working on some paperwork and billing. Stop by and I’ll let you know if I can work something out for you. There might be a job. It won’t be glamorous, but it’ll pay and provide free food.”
“I don’t need charity or an escort, but I’ll be back tomorrow for that job.” I shoved from the chair and headed for the door. He sidestepped and blocked my path with his large frame. My forehead barely reached his chest.
His fingers found my shoulders, and my body blazed from his touch, a scorching heat that caused sweat to pool at the nape of my neck.
“I don’t know where you’re from, but this is downtown Atlanta. It can get rough at night. A girl as beautiful as you shouldn’t be walking the streets at this hour. Let me grab my keys and I’ll take you home.”
He released me, and I fought my shaking knees to remain upright. No way I’d be able to sit in a small box by his side for even five minutes without stomping on my promise to remain abstinent. And the job would be forever gone. Not to mention the need for a heavy high to get through the act. No, I needed to get away from him and his strange ways of making me feel all tangled up inside.
I grabbed the cash he’d left on his desk and hotfooted it to the door. “I’m from the streets of New York. You should worry about the other guy.” I took off down the stairs, out the back door, and through the alleyway.
“Scarlet, wait!” he called, as if ensnaring me once more in his web of charm, but the last man I’d met with a gentle touch and comforting voice had driven me to a back alley overdose.
Chapter Six
The night was a never-ending sea of blackness. I usually loved dark nights, but this one continued down aTwilight Zonehighway and I could almost hear Alfred Hitchcock’s voice narrating in the background.
I switched on my dying flashlight for the hundredth time to see my watch. Seven in the morning. My stomach roared with complaint, and my mouth watered at the memory of the uneaten cheeseburger. It would have been the biggest meal I’d had in days.
I rolled onto my side and stretched the kinks from my neck. A rat, on one of the broken wooden shelves, squeaked his agreement to vacate and find food. With the pity cash Drake gave me last night, I could grab some coffee and a bagel or something even after I bought a lantern and batteries. Despite the still warm temps of early fall in Atlanta, I donned the army jacket I’d scored from a thrift store the first night here. A hood was my best friend in the world of Atlanta noise pollution. I tightened my fingers around the pipe and stepped onto one of the metal brackets that secured it to the wall. I reached the bottom floor and dismounted into the dim morning light.
