She stood there, listening to the door shut with agonizing loudness. Her heart started beating a little faster.
How could you have been so stupid?
Last night was a blur, but she did remember the stylish giant she’d had dinner with. At least, she remembered him to a point. She closed her eyes, swaying a little as she did so, fighting to remember. She’d managed to knock out a bottle of Ravenswood Cabernet with a six-foot-five stranger. He’d helped her to get to her door…she seemed to recall being carried part of the way, or did she dream that?
He had tucked her in, she seemed to remember. He’d given her a kiss on her forehead, and said he’d be back in the morning.
She hastily went over to her purse, pawing through it. Well, the credit cards were still there, as was her cash.
How could you have been so stupid? She’d let a complete stranger, no matter how “nice” he was, into her house! And let him lock up after himself! After getting drunk with him!
A sharp knock on the door rapped her out of her thoughts. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest.
He could be some kind of serial killer. Don’t you open the door!
“Sarah? Sweetie, open the door, it’s just me.”
She stayed silent for a minute.
“Sarah.” She heard him let out an irritated sigh. “Come on, I know you’re there, and I’ve got something that will fix you right up.”
She thought about going to the kitchen, getting a knife or something. She couldn’t lock the dead bolt without being…
Without being what? Rude?
There was a long pause. “Oh, baby, don’t be this way,” she heard him finally say, obviously pitching his voice deeper. “After you slept with me last night, I thought…”
She gasped, and before she could think the better of it threw open the door. “I did not sleep with you!”
She looked up and saw him grinning at her. “Well, obviously. But I figured you’d open the door if I said you did.”
She was blushing. She knew she was blushing.
“Mind if I come in for a sec? These are a little heavy.”
Without really waiting for an invitation, he walked in, followed by another man. She eyed them both nervously.
Taylor was resplendent in a sparkling white T-shirt and jeans that looked like they were pressed, with various holes that were obviously cut in the knees for artistic effect, not worn-out naturally. He was carrying what looked like two cases of soda. “I figured eleven was late enough to come over. Kit? Could you give her the coffee?”
The other man was lanky, with sandy-brown hair tucked under a backward baseball cap. He wore a gray T-shirt and a pair of khaki cargo pants which sported holes that were probably from actual use, as well as a scuffed pair of suede sneakers. He looked short next to Taylor, but she guessed he was maybe six foot. “Welcome…to Jurassic Park,” he said, and handed her a foam cup with a lid.
She looked at Taylor nervously, and he rolled his eyes. “You’ll get used to Kit. He’s my DSF.”
“DSF?” she asked.
“Designated Straight Friend.”
“So nice to fill a quota,” Kit said, shrugging.
She smiled weakly, then sipped the coffee. It was good. The headache retreated a few millimeters. In fact, she would have felt a lot better if the doorbell hadn’t chosen to ring at that particular moment.
“Yes?”
“Sarah? It’s Judith. I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d take you to lunch.”
Sarah glanced at the dynamic duo in her living room. “Um…it’ll take me a little bit to get ready…”
“Just let me in, Sarah. I’ll wait.”
Sarah buzzed the entry button, then glanced at the men. “That was my friend Judith,” she explained.
Taylor smiled, obviously not getting the point—that she wanted them out of there. “So, this is your place?”
“Such as it is,” she said. “There’s two bedrooms and a bathroom.”
“Heaven.” Without being asked (much like when he entered her apartment) he peeked into both rooms. “Spacious. You wouldn’t happen to be looking for a roommate, would you? I know someone who’s looking…”
“No,” she said emphatically, then rubbed at her temples. Okay, less emphasis. On everything this morning. “I’m…my boyfriend is moving down.”
“Oh, right. The guy you mentioned last night.” He sent a skeptical glance to Kit. Sarah scowled.
“I’m sure he’ll…”
Judith stepped in the half-opened door. “Sarah? Hi. I thought, since it’s eleven, it wouldn’t be too…” She stopped stock-still, and took in Taylor and Kit. “Oh. I didn’t realize you had company.” She arched one inky-black eyebrow at Sarah. “Friends of yours?”
Sarah looked away. “Well…”
“I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself. It’s what I’m best at,” Taylor said, offering one of his huge hands. Judith was surprised into shaking it. “I’m Taylor, one of Sarah’s neighbors. This is Kit.” Kit didn’t shake hands with Judith, he simply nodded. “Kit is just Kit.”
“I see. And how well do you know Sarah?”
Taylor’s expression was almost gleeful. “Oh, about as well as someone can get to know another person after getting completely plastered with them. Sarah’s a cutie-pie,” he pronounced, and if he reached over to pinch her cheek, she wouldn’t have been surprised. “I think we’ll keep her.”
“Sarah?” Judith was looking more anxious than disapproving now.
“Taylor’s okay,” Sarah said, and realized that she really did believe he was. “Taylor, thanks for stopping by and, um, checking on me.”
“No problem.” He ignored Judith’s stares, and sidled up to Sarah, dropping to a mock whisper. “No offense, my dear, but you might want to jump in the shower and change before you brunch with Ms. Mom. You’ll feel much better.”
“I was planning to,” she said.
“Oh, and here.” He handed her a can from the case of soda he had carried in and put on her kitchen table.
“What’s this?”
“Fabulous stuff. Buy it in Chinatown by the caseload,” he said. She realized she couldn’t read the label—she thought the label was Chinese, or possibly Korean. “I like to call it Hangover Remover. You chug that down like a good girl. Do you club?”
Her eyes widened. “Um…”
He smiled, and it was like being smiled on by a benevolent god. “You are so sweet! Well, we’ll stick to dinners first, but I like you,” he said expansively. She liked him, too, she realized. “Here.” He reached into his back pocket, and pulled out a business card. She read it: “Taylor Mayerling. Marketing Communications Manager, Demille Plastics Company.”
“Plastics?” she said.
Kit grinned. “There is a great future in plastics.”
“The Graduate. That’s so easy.” Taylor frowned at him, then turned back to Sarah. “Well, it’s not sexy, but it’s a paycheck.”
“I hear you,” Sarah said, then winced again.
“Gotta run, but you call me and we’ll do dinner. I’d ask for your number, but…”