The Wrong Woman. Linda Warren

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      “Ethan, don’t go looking for trouble.”

      “I’m not. I’m just being cautious.”

      “Too cautious, if you ask me. There’s more to life than work.”

      “I’ve got to go,” Ethan said.

      “Aren’t you gonna watch the show?”

      “No, I don’t want Molly to think I’m spying on her.”

      “Really.” Travis raised an eyebrow. “Where would she get an idea like that?”

      Ethan gave him a piercing look and left.

      AT THE STRIP CLUB, Ethan’s night was a repeat of the night before. The redhead didn’t appear. Tonight, though, the place was packed and there wasn’t any room to sit. He stood for a long time, watching and waiting, then made his way to the bar, hoping to talk to the bartender.

      “What’ll you have?” the man finally asked after serving several other men.

      “A draft, light,” Ethan said.

      When the beer was placed in front of him, Ethan said conversationally, “I was hoping the redhead would strip tonight.”

      The bartender frowned. “You got a thing for her?”

      “Yeah. I’d sure like to meet her.”

      “In your dreams, buster,” the barman muttered.

      “I’m good at dreaming,” Ethan replied casually, trying to sound like a normal customer. “Any idea when she’ll be here again?”

      “You ask too many questions, mister.”

      The man was nervous. Ethan could see it in his eyes and the way he kept looking over Ethan’s shoulder.

      A big man pushed between Ethan and the man beside him. “What’s the problem?” He spoke to the bartender.

      “This one—” he nodded to Ethan “—is asking a lot of questions.”

      “About what?”

      “The redhead.”

      The man scowled. “The girls are off-limits. Now get your ass out of here.” As he said the last words, he grabbed Ethan by the collar. Ethan’s arm came up and knocked the man’s hand away.

      “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Ethan said in a steely voice.

      They faced each other. The other man, evidently the bouncer, was big and muscled, but Ethan was the same height and he wasn’t backing down. The bouncer got the message.

      “Just leave and I won’t,” the bouncer finally said.

      Ethan stared at him for an extra second, then left the bar.

      Sitting in his truck, he tried to figure out what had just happened. Questions about the redhead made everyone nervous. Why? The club’s goal was to draw customers and to keep them coming back, so it made no sense to discourage their interest in any of the strippers.

      Something was going on with the redhead—and it wasn’t good.

      THE BOUNCER stabbed out a number on a cell phone. “We got problems,” he said. “Someone’s asking about the redhead.”

      “Who?” the voice on the other end asked.

      “Don’t know. Looks like a cop—Texas Ranger type.”

      “Goddammit, where is he now?”

      “I threw him out.”

      “Good, and keep a close eye on her. Call me if he shows up again.”

      “I will, but I don’t like this.”

      “Don’t worry. Everything should be over in a few days.”

      ETHAN OPENED his motel-room door and froze. The lights were on. He’d turned them off when he left, he was positive. Slowly he inched the door wider and stepped inside. Someone came up on his blind side. He reached out an arm and grabbed the person, and they tumbled onto the bed. Ethan realized two things almost instantly. The person was a woman and the woman was Serena. He recognized that perfume. His hold loosened and his body relaxed, but Serena kicked out with her legs and knocked him to the floor—on his bad hip. Pain shot through him and for a moment he was paralyzed.

      “Ethan, I’m so sorry.” Serena fell on her knees beside him. “Did I hurt you?”

      “No,” he lied, and struggled to his feet. If she offered to help him, he’d explode. He sank onto the bed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

      “Are you okay?” she said quickly, avoiding his question.

      “What are you doing here, Serena?” he repeated in a tight voice.

      She sat beside him—so close that he could breathe in her delicate scent. He wanted to ask her to move, to get as far away from him as possible, because he was in a mood that did not bode well for either of them.

      “I just couldn’t sit at home any longer, and when I saw the name of the motel on caller I.D., I decided to drive over.”

      How could he let something like that slip by him? “Damn, I’m getting too old for this job.”

      “You think you’re old?” Her voice revealed surprise.

      Right now he felt about ninety and her presence wasn’t helping. “How did you get in here?”

      “Well—” she twisted her hands. “They don’t give out room numbers easily. I told the guy at the desk that I was your wife and that I wanted to surprise you. He gave me the number but no key. When I got here, the maid was putting fresh towels in the bathroom. So I just walked in. She didn’t speak much English and she obviously assumed the room was mine. I didn’t correct her assumption. I’ve been waiting for you since early evening. I was about to go crazy.”

      Ethan was tired and his hip was throbbing and the last thing he wanted to do was deal with Serena Farrell. Silence reigned as he tried to figure out what his next step should be.

      “Ethan.”

      “Hmm?”

      “Did you see her tonight?”

      He drew a much-needed breath and turned to look at her, then wished he hadn’t. Her eyes were bright with expectation. She had to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen—he wasn’t a man who usually fell for beauty. When he was younger, beauty had attracted him first, but as he matured, honesty, faithfulness and kindness attracted him more. But looking at Serena, he didn’t really care about any of those qualities. That threw him and he decided he must’ve been watching too many women strip. He’d thought he was unaffected by the performances, but clearly he’d been wrong about that.

      “Ethan,” СКАЧАТЬ