Asking for Trouble - Leslie Kelly [59]
“Tell me about the woman in Charleston.”
HE TOLD HER.
The story about what had happened that night wasn’t one he liked talking about. But since Lottie had heard some version of it—probably a highly untrue one—he knew he had no choice.
Simon would not have Lottie afraid of him for anything. And while she swore she wasn’t, that her feelings hadn’t changed, she also insisted that he tell her the truth.
Yesterday, he might not have. But after last night, he could no longer hide behind their casual relationship. It had become anything but casual in his bedroom.
The woman deserved to know the violent truth about the man she was sleeping with.
“You must realize, I assume, that I have to travel a lot for my work,” he said as the two of them sat in his office. He’d led her here immediately after she’d asked for the story, figuring that though it was only five o’clock, they could probably both use a drink.
At least he could.
She had obviously felt the same and the two of them were sipping small, neat whiskeys as they faced one another on the couch.
“Of course,” she murmured. “You have to spend time in a place to write about it well.”
He nodded. “I like that part of my job, and my southern cities series has really taken off. I started with New Orleans and Baton Rouge, obviously, then moved on to Savannah, Atlanta, then Charleston.” Funny, really, since before that night, Charleston was becoming one of his favorites. “Anyway, I booked a room in one of the nicest downtown hotels and stayed there for two weeks, getting all the information I could.”
Sipping his drink, he leaned back, trying to remember the details of that night, some of which had grown hazy during his recovery. “It was my last night in town and I went down to the hotel bar to have a drink and say goodbye to some of the staff who’d been so helpful.” His throat tightened. “There was a woman there. A blonde. Sitting a few seats away.”
“A stranger?” Lottie asked, interrupting for the first time. “Not someone you were involved with?”
“No. I’d never seen her before in my life.”
She frowned. “Strike one for the rumor mill.”
He really didn’t want to know about the rumor mill.
“Sorry, please go on.”
“I’m sure I don’t have to spell it out. I’d been in town a few weeks, and I hadn’t been seeing anyone for quite a while… She was very obvious about what she was offering.”
Lottie’s mouth tightened.
“I’m not exactly thrilled to admit I picked up an easy blonde in a bar, but it happened.” Wondering just how much to say, he didn’t see the point in holding anything back. “I wasn’t the same man then, Lottie. I actually was somewhat social and enjoyed having fun. I wasn’t exactly a playboy, but it wasn’t my first bar pickup.”
Though, it had definitely been his last.
She waved an unconcerned hand. “I’m not a saint, Simon. Please don’t feel like you have to justify yourself.”
Relieved, he continued to explain, telling her how the woman had been the one to approach him, asking him to buy her a drink. How deliberate and provocative she’d been—which, of course, made sense given what had happened later. He’d been a mark to her, one she wasn’t going to let get away.
“So you took her up to your room.”
He nodded.
Her cheeks pinkening a bit, she softly asked, “Did you, umm…”
“No. I hadn’t even touched her when she said she wanted to see the view of the city. So we stepped out onto the balcony. Then she claimed she needed to freshen up. She told me to wait right there for her, and went back into the room.”
“Oh, no,” Lottie said, obviously knowing where this was going.
“Yeah. I heard a door open and close but figured it was just the bathroom one. Before I even knew what was happening, she came back, followed by a young, burly guy with a gun in his hand.”
She gasped. “They were rolling you.”
“Exactly.”
Lottie shook her head slowly, looking visibly distressed. “Simon, why didn’t you just