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“Ethan,” I introduce myself and extend a hand toward her. “Ethan Callahan, owner of Club Allure.”
For the first time, the stranger looks impressed. She reaches out her hand and shakes mine. Her steady pulse and warm hand combined with the fleeting but tantalizing scent of her perfume is mesmerizing.
“Kristine. Kristine Stern-Prescott,” she introduces herself.
Married or divorced last name, interesting...
“Kristine,” I call out to her, drawing her a little closer to me because of the bustle of the club, trying to ignore the obvious chemistry floating between us. “I understand that you may be in a delicate situation, but I have a feeling you can't, and don't want to, spend the night hiding here from them either.”
A grimace curves her lips, and she slowly shakes her head. “No, that is not my intention,” she admits.
“Then let me take you home. Or if you prefer, to a hotel. They'll expect to see you leave, but they won't follow my car,” I assure her.
She gives me a look, somewhat distrustful, though I would also say she seems amused. “How do I know you can be trusted?”
A smile almost forms over my lips. “You have no way of knowing. You'll just have to trust me.”
“I'm not good at trusting strangers.”
That makes two of us.
She looks at me, probably analyzing the situation and realizing that I am, in fact, her only option.
Sighing, Kristine nods. “Okay. I'll go with you.”
I reach out and she takes my hand carefully, almost gently.
Her fingers are soft and warm to the touch and her gaze possesses a certain strength and courage that dazzles me, though it doesn't completely eclipse the weariness I see reflected in her eyes.
The situation is probably beyond her.
Feeling I owe it to her, I state, “I know you don't know me, but you can trust me. I won't hurt you.”
Kristine nods. “I know,” she admits.
“How do you know?”
She gives me a smile. The first one of the night. “Because the prince doesn't show up in the story to kidnap the princess.”
Wanting to burst out laughing, I challenge her. “Believe me, I'm not the prince in the story. More like the dark knight.”
“Good. Even better,” she sighs. “Because I'm no princess.”
“So then, who are you?”
Kristine seems to hesitate for a moment, but finally smiles. “Probably the little red riding hood who kills the wolf, or someone who runs away from the villain. But I assure you, I'm not the princess who stands still, waiting to be saved.”
“Then I don't have to save you.”
“No, but if you get involved with me, you might need backup.”
CHAPTER TWO
KRISTINE PRESCOTT
I shiver involuntarily aswe step out of the club's bubble of warmth and the chill of the night air bites at my skin. Before I can protest, Ethan's jacket settles over my shoulders. A surprising gesture of chivalry from a man whose stern exterior suggests anything but. The fabric is warm from his body and carries a hint of his cologne, a woodsy scent that seems as complex and intriguing as the man himself.
“This isn't necessary,” I insist, looking up to meet his eyes. His gaze holds mine for a heartbeat too long, an unspoken challenge in the depths of those brown orbs.
