One-Night Alibi. Kara Lennox

off, I don’t think of them as dregs. More like, people who started life at a disadvantage, maybe made some bad choices.” It was true some people never learned. But she firmly believed she helped others.

      “You must have a kind heart. Seems whenever I try to help people, I get the shit kicked out of me one way or another.”

      “But you keep trying, right?”

      “Sometimes I don’t know why. Have you ever tried to rescue a cat from a tree?”

      “No, actually.”

      “Damn thing will scratch you to shreds every time.”

      She wanted to argue that people weren’t cats. They were basically good, if you gave them half a chance to be. But Hudson was clenching his jaw. She’d accidentally hit a nerve. Maybe she’d better back off. She wanted to know more about him, and antagonizing him probably wasn’t the best tactic.

      Suddenly he looked at her and smiled. “Sorry. You have no idea what a rough couple of weeks it’s been.”

      Actually, she did. And she should tell him. Honestly, she’d thought he would recognize her, or that someone would tell him who she was. But he couldn’t know, or he’d have never let her into his car.

      She pushed the whole mess out of her mind. She was riding down the freeway in a cool car with a hot guy. She had nowhere to be, nothing else to do. For once in her life, she would stop worrying about all the consequences. She’d never indulged in a one-night stand before. Maybe it was time. She listened to a lot of the women she counseled talking about getting carried away, unable to control themselves enough to make sensible decisions. She’d always assumed she was above such behavior.

      Maybe not.

      Hudson’s house was at the end of a cul-de-sac on a double-sized wooded lot. Like many waterfront homes, it stood on stilts, with only the garage on the ground floor.

      He pulled his car into the garage and parked it; they got out, but they had to go back outside and climb a set of wooden stairs to a wraparound porch.

      She fell in love at first sight. The house was small, probably only two bedrooms, but a wall of windows looked out on the lake, making the living room seem huge. He flipped on some lights. The place was furnished simply with a couple of low sofas and two chairs, rattan, clean lines. The wood floors were covered with slightly threadbare rugs.

      What she really loved about it was, it wasn’t a man cave. No huge TV or stereo system. No cast-off shoes littering the floor or spent pizza boxes stacked on the coffee table.

      “Have a seat,” he said as he headed into the kitchen. “I’m going to get myself a Mountain Dew.” He stuck his head in the fridge. “I have other soft drinks, beer and, um, orange juice.”

      “I’m good, thanks.”

      He popped the top on his own soft drink and took several swallows as he joined her in the living room. She’d chosen one end of a sofa, inviting him to make his move.

      He sat across from her, set his can on a coaster on the coffee table and propped his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. “You can relax, you know. I’m not going to jump you.”

      She realized she was sitting stiffly, her back straight as a fence post. Leaning back against the cushion, she crossed her legs. “Really? I thought that’s what we came here for.”

      “Thought we’d talk first.”

      Uh-oh. She didn’t like the sound of that. And he suddenly looked a lot more like a cop conducting an interrogation than a potential boyfriend eager to make a conquest.

      She tucked one foot under her leg. She could brazen this out.

      “Why were you staring at me? At the wedding?” he asked.

      “’Cause you’re cute.”

      “A woman like you must have ‘cute’ guys lining up to have sex with you. You don’t need to pick up a strange one at a wedding.”

      “You must think I’m pretty shallow, that I’d just settle for any cute guy to satisfy my raging libido.”

      “You don’t seem shallow,” he admitted.

      Maybe she ought to be afraid. He was accused of police brutality. Some really violent guys became cops so they could have a socially acceptable outlet for their...urges. He’d been accused of beating suspects twice...enough to form a pattern.

      Maybe the P.I. she’d hired hadn’t done a thorough enough job. Maybe Hudson Vale wasn’t as nice a guy as he appeared on paper.

      Then she had to laugh at herself, silently at least. The Logans’ valet had witnessed them together. Even if Hudson had violent urges, she doubted he was stupid enough to assault her when they’d been seen leaving the wedding arm in arm.

      Anyway, how could a man who was charmed by a bunch of hummingbirds be anything but a good guy?

      “Something just seems a little bit off, that’s all,” he said almost apologetically. “I’ve learned over the years not to ignore my instincts. I thought at first you were trying to make someone jealous.”

      “I’m not, trust me. My date was just a date. In fact, it was a fix-up,” she admitted. “When he went after one of the bridesmaids I was totally relieved.”

      “Now I know you’re fibbing. You can get your own dates.”

      “I guess I can. I got you.” Of course he was suspicious of her. He was a cop, one who’d faced off against a powerful, ruthless man who would stoop to any means to prove Hudson had assaulted him for no reason. “But is it so hard to believe I saw something I liked and went for it? I’m sure I’m not the first woman to make a play for you.”

      “No. But definitely the only one who looks like a supermodel.”

      “Now who’s full of bull?” But she smiled. She liked it that he thought she was pretty. She knew she was reasonably attractive. And she was tall. But supermodel was a real stretch.

      “It’s like I won the lottery or something.”

      “The lottery? How much did you have to drink at that wedding?”

      “I only had half a beer, or I wouldn’t have gotten behind the wheel. You were the one guzzling a martini when I first saw you.”

      “I do not guzzle. And if you’re implying I was drunk, you’re wrong. No false courage needed.” She matched his steamy look with one of her own.

      He drained the last of his Mountain Dew, then crushed the can in one hand.

      The macho show of strength made her heart flutter faster than the hummingbirds’ wings they’d so recently witnessed. He cavalierly threw the can over his shoulder. It sailed through the pass-through into the kitchen and sounded as if it landed in the sink. Then he came out of his chair, skirted around the coffee table and landed next to her.

      “Hi, there.”

      “H-hi.”

      “Wanna make out?”

      She very much did. She’d predicted Hudson would be a stand-up guy, but the boyish charm was a surprise, and it melted her jaded heart. She couldn’t resist him, especially because he wasn’t pushing her straight to the bedroom. The hungry look in his eyes told her he wanted her, but he didn’t pressure her. His attitude was refreshing.

      Elizabeth looped one arm around his neck, drawing him closer. He exuded warmth and an electric tension that her body responded to. Her skin prickled with heightened awareness, her chest tightened and she felt hot between her legs, hot and tickly, as if she was being brushed with rose petals. All from him touching her shoulder.

      They took their time getting to that next kiss. She looked into his eyes, wishing she could dive right inside him, his delicious warmth enveloping her like a safe blanket. She parted her lips slightly, needing more oxygen.