Stoking the Embers (New Adult Romantic Suspense): The Complete Series by Leslie Johnson Read Free Book Online Page B

okay. I can leave if you want me to.” I’m rambling now, watching her pull herself together.
    Lifting her arms from her knees, she sits up, wiping the tears and mascara from her face. “No, you don’t have to leave. I… I just never wanted anyone to see me like this.”
    “Are you still upset about the accident?”
    She motions me to sit on the edge of the bed next to her. “No, it has nothing to do with that. My boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend just left. I didn’t want him here, but he had a key I didn’t know about.”
    Looking like she needs a shoulder to cry on, I scoot over and put my arm around her shoulders. “That must have been the guy who almost ran me over running down the stairs. A tall guy with black hair.”
    She leans into me a little more. “That was Jerome. I was pretty pissed. He somehow knew we had dinner and was really jealous.”
    Looking at the bruises on her arms again, I have to ask. “Are those bruises really from the accident scene?”
    She stiffens and pushes away from me slightly. “Most of them are. Jerome is harmless, but he tends to get a little rough sometimes.”
    That pisses me off. Why do girls always do this shit? Make excuses for guys. Forgive and forget—fuck that.
    Her cellphone rings, breaking up the tension I can feel in her body. It also interrupts the words that were about to spew from me.
    Hitting the end button, she pushes herself off the bed. “Why don’t we go in the living room? Or, if you just want to go, I understand. I’m okay, really. Just a little girl therapy.”
    Underneath her attempt at bravery, I sense her fear and wonder whose call she ignored. “If you need me to, I can stay a bit. I also have a couple of cop friends if you want me to call them for anything.”
    Lightly grabbing my upper arm, she guides me to the couch, ignoring my last question. “Do you want anything? I don’t have much, but I have plenty of soda or sparkling water.”
    “Just some plain ol’ H2O is fine. I don’t even need ice.”
    She walks back from the kitchen with a glass of water. “I’m going to wash up a bit. Make yourself at home.”
    She walks away, and I settle back, ready to wait out the normal half-hour it takes a girl to primp. I look around, take in the shabby chic of her apartment. Second-hand furniture that looks well cared for. Bright colors that mix well, giving a brightness that it’s lack of windows wouldn’t naturally produce. Clean as a pin, not a dust bunny in sight. Minimalistic. I wonder if the sparseness is from her personal taste or from a lack of money. I like it either way. I’ll never understand why women want to clutter things up with all the knick-knack shit.
    She’s walking back toward the couch before I even finish my water. “That was quick.” She’s washed her face, brushed her hair and changed into a pair of sweet little yoga pants that cling to her body just right.
    “I didn’t want to keep you waiting… or find you gone when I finished. Not that I’d blame you ...” The sentence trails off and I can see her search for something to say.
    “I like your apartment,” I cut in, trying to bring us back to a safe zone. She smiles and looks around.
    “Thanks, my friend Beth helped me decorate. She dragged me to every market within a hundred miles. She calls it ‘gypsy chick chic’.
    Sitting in the chair across from the table, I notice she looks much more relaxed now and, even without makeup, is really cute. The tip of her nose is still a little pink and her lips… dammit those lips… look soft as pillows.
    “It suits you.”
    “Thanks. And sorry about before. You seeing me that way… well I didn’t expect you. I appreciate you not running out the door.”
    “Do I strike you as the kind of guy who would just walk out on a damsel in distress?”
    That does it. I’m rewarded with a big smile. “Nahh, I’m still waiting for you to pull out your Superman cape. Where’re you hiding it?”
    I like playful Stephanie. I