Page 2 of A Man After Midnight

“I find it hard to believe a beautiful woman like you isn’t looking for a little company,” Gil said. The words dripped off his serpent’s tongue like honey.

Caroline gave a little huff, her breath brushing her bangs. She hopped off her seat and grabbed her purse. She looked at Gil. “No, thank you,” she repeated, emphasizing the first word. The bartender walked by and gave her a wave. She nodded her goodbye and turned to walk stiffly toward the door.

Caroline absolutely hated men who didn’t take the hint. There was a fine line between sexy and downright creepy, and Gil pushed all her danger signals. But just as she reached the door, Gil came up behind her, sandwiching her and using their combined bodies to force the door open.

Outraged, she stumbled out of the bar and onto the sidewalk, swinging around in anger. In her hurried exit, she had used the door that emptied to a deserted cul-de-sac, where large green trash receptacles sat stinking in one dark corner.

“How dare you!”

“Come on, baby.” Gil’s hands came up to grab her shoulders. “The hard-to-get act isn’t really working for you.”

“Get your hands off me,” she spat, trying to push him away from her. Her clutch purse flew, landing somewhere behind her with a thud.

He stood a good six inches taller than she and his fingers felt like vise grips. Terror washed through her. Caroline yanked her arms, trying to break his hold.

“Let me go!” She looked wildly around for help, but the emergency exit was hidden from the busy sidewalk. She stood out of sight with this madman. “I’m going to scream!”

“Sure,” he agreed mockingly. “Scream all you want … no one’s going to hear you here. And besides, we both know you want it.”

Want it, no. But he was right when he’d said no one could hear her, not with the thumping beat from the dance club drowning any cry of help. Panic took over and she brought her knee up in pure instinct. Instead of falling back in pain, though, anger contorted his features.

“Listen here, you bitch,” Gil grated, shaking her.

Suddenly, the door burst open and before Gil could react, a large hand gripped the front of Gil’s collar, forcing him to break his hold.

“Release her!” a harsh voice commanded.

Caroline stumbled back, halfway collapsing against the building. Her terrified gaze landed on the bizarre scene in front of her. A tall, heavily muscled man dressed in a tailored suit gripped Gil’s shirt front in his hands. He seemed to be muttering to the man with clipped significant words, but the blood pounded so heavily in Caroline’s ears she couldn’t hear a thing.

She watched as her rescuer hauled back a fist and punch Gil across the jaw. Gil flew back, landing on the dirty road in a heap, like a broken ragdoll that had been tossed out.

“Get up and get out of here,” the stranger snarled to Gil. “You’re done.”

Gil shook his head and rose to his feet. He glared for a second at Caroline, until the stranger stepped between her and him, and then the smaller man scurried away like a rat deserting a sinking ship. Her guardian angel’s fists clenched as he stared after the retreating filth, an aura of raw power radiating around him. She blinked as he turned toward her, recoiling a bit as she saw the hard slash of his mouth and the tightness of his face. She melted a bit more into the hard wall, until the rough cement bricks bit into her bare shoulders.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said quietly. “Okay?”

The past few moments shattered her faith that she could trust anyone. After all, she was still stuck in an alley with a strange man, and she couldn’t see his eyes in the dark to determine if they were gentle or cruel. As she deliberated over the pros and cons of taking his help, gentle hands steadied her. His expression changed to one of sympathy.

“Are you okay?” he asked. The deep baritone of his voice soothed her frazzled nerves, and she decided to go with her gut instinct that this man wasn’t here to hurt her.

She took a deep breath. “Yes,” she replied, though her body couldn’t seem to stop shaking.

“I think you might be suffering from shock.”

“Yes.” She nodded vigorously. “I’m definitely shocked that man had the audacity to touch me like that!”

Her rescuer gave a rueful grin. “I saw him corner you in the doorway and followed. I’m sorry I couldn’t reach you sooner, but there’s a lot of people in that bar.”

“No.” Caroline shook her head. “Thank you so much. I’ve had the day from hell, and it didn’t help having Satan’s spawn come pawing at me.” She brushed at her arms, trying to brush off the memories.

“My name is Wren.” She watched as he walked to where her clutch purse lay, bending down to gather the few items that had flown out of it. Then he walked back to her and held it out. “Wren Calder.”

“Caroline,” she said with a tentative smile, reaching for the bag. “Caroline Grace.”

Their fingers brushed. Such a small gesture, but it ignited a whole world of sensation along her arm. Tingles, as if she touched a live wire, danced over her skin. Caroline jerked her hand back, taking her bag with her. Her eyes flashed to his. His gaze narrowed, his brows slashing together and his body tensing. Her heart thudded in her ears and she concentrated on forcing her suddenly erratic breathing to settle.

He stepped back, allowing her room. She moved away quickly, flashing him a nervous smile. She could feel her dimples digging into her cheeks, a typical sign of nerves as she grinned like a fool.

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