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"That weasely little man?"
"No, that's Jack Ed. Jack Ed Patterson. Little Alvin is the one you called a gorilla. See, they call him Little Alvin because—"
"This is all very interesting, but I just want to forget it. Rest assured that there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell of them getting their 'slimy paws' on me. I had the situation under control."
"Is that right?" he asked, giving her a smile that said he didn't beli
eve her for a minute, but he admired her spunk.
"That's right. Now, if you'll please excuse—"
"Uh-uh." He flattened his hand against the door she was about to shut in his face. "I don't have my apology yet."
"All right," she said irritably, shoving back a handful of auburn hair he wouldn't mind having a handful of himself. "I apologize for … for…"
"For not thanking me properly for rescuing you."
Gritting her teeth, she emphasized each word. "For not thanking you properly for rescuing me."
Propping his shoulder against the doorjamb, he squinted at her. "Wonder how come I don't think you really mean that?"
"Oh, I do. I truly do. From the bottom of my little ol' heart." Resting her right hand on the left side of her chest, she fluttered her eyelashes as she made a pledge. "If I ever get hit on in a bar again, you'll be the first one I call to defend me. I'll even recommend you to my fragile, feminine friends. How's that for gratitude?"
Ignoring her sarcasm, he raised his hand and touched the corner of her mouth with the tip of his index finger. "Your lip is bleeding again."
Turning her back on him, she rushed into the room and bent over the dresser top to check her reflection in the mirror. "It is not!" When she turned back around, Lucky was standing inside the closed door with his back to it, grinning like a hungry alley cat who'd just spotted a trapped mouse.
She drew herself up straight and said in an overly calm voice, "You don't want to do this. I'm warning you that I'm capable of defending myself. I'll raise such a hue and cry, I'll bring this building down. I know how to use physical force. I'll—"
Lucky started laughing. "What did you think I had in mind, ravishing you? All I want to do is hear a sincere apology from you, then I'll be on my way. In the meantime I'm going to borrow your bed for a minute."
Setting the whiskey, aspirin, and packaged steak on the nightstand, he hopped on one foot while pulling off his boot, then got rid of the other one the same way. He stretched out on the bed and piled both pillows against the headboard, sighing with relief as his head sank into them.
"If you don't get out of here this instant," she shouted angrily, "I'll call the management! I'll call the police!"
"Will you quiet down, please? My head's pounding. And whatever happened to all that self-defense you were threatening me with?" Removing the steak from its Styrofoam tray, he laid it against his battered eye. "If you'll bring the glasses over, I'll share my whiskey with you."
"I don't want any of your whiskey!"
"Fine. But could you please bring me a glass?"
"All right, if you won't leave, I will."
She marched toward the door and yanked it open. A jangling sound brought her head around. Her car keys were dangling from the end of Lucky's finger. "Not yet, Miss … uh, what's your name?"
"Go to hell!" she yelled, slamming the door closed again.
"Hmm. Named after your mother or father?"
"Give me my keys." She thrust out her hand.
"Not until you apologize. While I'm waiting, how about that glass?" He nodded toward the dresser where an ice bucket and two glasses were wrapped in sterile paper.
"If you want a glass, you can get it yourself."
"Okay." He sighed. But when he tried to sit up, the skin across his stomach stretched and the knife wound reopened. Wincing, he fell back onto the pillows. When his hand came away from reflexively touching the area, it was stained with fresh blood.
She gave a soft cry and quickly moved to the side of the bed. "You really are hurt."
