Keeping her hand on the towel, it put her nearly hugging his body.
“Thanks.” He cupped her cheek, the sweetness surprising after all the teasing. “How did it go with Ryker?”
“It was a success.” Even if it was a miserable experience.
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Did you get a good picture?”
She looked down, leaning into his body a little. Not even the fact he was half-dressed could override the sick feeling lodged in the back of her throat. “Yes.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t like seeing his face.” She shuddered before resting her forehead against his chest. “It was horrible. The lady even drew him with that evil smile.”
He urged her face back up to him. “I will do my best to ensure you never see him again. We needed the sketch artist’s picture so Ryker has something to search for.” He brushed his thumb along her temple before releasing her. “It should go pretty quickly from here.”
She wanted to believe him.
“Let’s get this bandaged.”
Still holding the towel for him, she stepped back as he exited the shower. Pulling back the cloth, she nodded. “It’s stopped enough. Let’s see if I can do this butterfly thing right.”
“Hard to mess up. Make sure the skin is together.”
Ignoring her response to the warmth of his body, she worked at getting the cut lined up and tight under the bandages. “There. Done. You need to change your boxers. They’re covered in blood.” She bit her lip, taking a long look at his butt. “Not sure you need Nurse Ella doing that for you.”
He set his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Why don’t you run upstairs and get ready for tonight? We can grab some dinner somewhere on our way to the bar.”
“Like a date?”
Her question hung between them, his expression unreadable. When he didn’t answer, she pushed a little more. “I hate it that you got hurt.” She brushed her fingers across a dark bruise forming on his ribcage from whatever fight had occurred.
“It’ll heal.”
She flattened her hand along his good side, intrigued by the feel of hard muscles underneath warm skin. “Five-thirty, again?”
“We can meet at six,” he offered. “But this isn’t a date.”
With a small nod, she dropped her hand. “Right. Six.” Disappointed with that development, she left his apartment.Fine. If he wasn’t interested, then she wouldn’t put them in an awkward situation. She’d be thankful that he’d stepped in to help her when he did and focus on her future.
No matter how much she wanted him to be a part of it.
11
Damon stared hard at the drawing of the stalker on his phone, memorizing his face.
Ryker:The sketch artist did great. Already put this through my facial recognition software. FYI—she was really upset about seeing it. That seemed to vanish when you showed up bleeding. But we need more information about how the guy stalked her. I need locations and dates, if possible. I’d planned on asking her then but seeing her so upset made me wait for you.
Damon:I’ll do it.
They did need more.The police report was incomplete, which was unusual. No summary of the interview after Teddy’s murder. It was like the report stopped after a vague statement about the suspect disappearing.
Damon left his room when a knock at the door came. He opened it to Ella, who stood there in jeans and a white tank top.
A simple outfit that made his mouth run dry.
And pearls. Always pearls. At least she’d ditched the rest of the jewelry.
“Ready?” she asked. “How’s your cut?”