Knight In Black Leather Page 5

  "You have to get him?"

  Eli opened the door when she tapped on it. He'd put on a pair of her sweatpants and Marilyn had to admit he looked a whole lot better than she did in them. She'd seen him in nothing more than briefs, but the sweats draping low on his narrow hips drew her eyes like the briefs hadn't.

  "You don't mind, do you?" Eli gestured at the pants she stared at. "They stretch over the cast, and I don't have to mess with buttons or zippers."

  "No, it's fine. Help yourself." She pulled herself out of the spell he'd cast and offered her support.

  Joey watched them all the way to the table where Eli eased himself into one of the armchairs.

  Marilyn smacked her brother on the shoulder. "Weren't you doing something?"

  "Oh, yeah." He set the eggs on the table, still staring.

  "Joey, this is Eli," Marilyn said. "Eli, my brother Joey."

  "Hey. Nice to meet ya." Eli put his left hand out.

  Joey took it for a quick shake. "Likewise." He stepped aside when Marilyn moved him out of her way. "So, did my sister do all that?"

  Eli grinned. "Nah. Marilyn's cool. This was three guys with baseball bats."

  "And a tire iron," Marilyn added. "You want coffee, Eli?"

  "That'd be good. You got milk for it?"

  The knots in her stomach loosened a little as she got the milk and poured coffee. It didn't look like Joey and Eli were going to get crosswise with each other. She set coffee, milk and sugar on the table in front of Eli and put on the toast Joey had forgotten.

  "In fact," Eli said, reaching for the sugar, "Marilyn chased 'em off. She's my hero."

  "Cockroaches will generally run when you shine a light on them. Sit down. Eat."

  Joey didn't have to be told twice. "Was that how you met?"

  Eli looked at Marilyn, letting her take the lead.

  "No. We met before. Eli helped me out of a tight spot." She smiled at him as she passed the eggs. "He's a good guy."

  Doing things left-handed was awkward as hell, but at least he didn't splatter eggs all over the table. Eli wished now he'd put on a shirt, but he couldn't figure out how to do it without help, so he'd left it off. It felt weird sitting here eating breakfast with Marilyn's brother. Like Eli was one of the family, sort of.

  "You know Mom is going to have a cow." Joey upended the bowl and dumped the rest of the eggs and sausage on his plate.

  "Excuse my brother's non-existent manners." Marilyn thumped Joey on the head. "He was such a slob growing up, we had to make him live in the yard and only let him inside on alternate Thursdays."

  He got up to fetch the picante sauce from the refrigerator. "Mom isn't just going to have her usual cow, you know. She's going to have a walking, kicking, mooing cow."

  "And your point is?" Marilyn leaned back in her chair to sip her coffee.

  "No point. Just an observation."

  Eli thought about offering to leave. He thought about leaving without making the offer. All he had to do was call a cab--then figure out some way back to the lobby without breaking his other leg. He could do it, if he really wanted to. But he didn't want to.

  He'd liked sleeping next to Marilyn last night, holding her hand, knowing her soft warmth was less than an armslength away. He'd liked lying in bed, listening to the sound of the shower running and her humming as she dressed. Did she know she hummed? He knew he'd get tired of all this cozy make-believe home life before long. He was a loner. He couldn't take too much togetherness without cracking. But while he still liked it, while she would let him, he wanted to stay.

  "What if you don't tell her?" he said.

  Joey and Marilyn both stopped eating to look at him.

  "Your mom. She can't have a cow if she doesn't know I'm here."

  "I don't care if she has a cow," Marilyn said. "I don't care if she has a whole litter of cows. That's her problem."

  "You don't have to shove it in her face, either." Joey used his fork as a pointer.

  "I'm not going to do that, but I'm not going to tiptoe around like we were doing something wrong. We're not." Marilyn brushed her hair back and it fell softly around her face. She was pretty. Not gorgeous or beautiful or hot. Just pretty.

  "And even if we were," she went on, "we're both single and over twenty-one, so we're still not."

  "Not what?" Joey shook his head. "I think I lost you somewhere in there."

  "Not doing anything wrong. For crying out loud, Joey, I can have sex if I want to."

  Eli froze with his fork halfway to his mouth and the eggs fell off. This left-handed shit stunk, but right now, he didn't care. "Do you?"

  Marilyn jerked her head around to him. "Do I...?"

  "Want to have sex?" Oh yeah, his equipment had survived just fine. He did his best to look casual in spite of his engine revving up. "Name the time, babe. I'm there."

  She laughed. Was that good or bad? Both probably. It meant she wasn't offended. It also meant she thought his offer was a joke, part of the game. Which it was. Unless she wanted to.

  "Oh, Eli, I really do like you." Marilyn reached over and squeezed his hand.

  He let a smile flicker across his face, not letting it stay. Smiling didn't hurt as much today. "Same here." Though he didn't think she meant it the way he did.

  She patted his hand and went back to her breakfast. "Nobody can make me laugh the way you do."

  Now he knew she didn't mean it the same way. He smiled for another half second. "No problem."

  "So, what do you want me to tell Mom?" Joey asked, popping the last bite of toast in his mouth.

  "Tell her whatever you want." Marilyn waved her hand as if erasing her words. "No. Tell her you saw me and I'm fine."

  "And if she asks about Eli?"

  "Tell her he's harmless."

  Eli met Joey's eyes when he turned them his way. Joey stared until Eli had to look away. He had the uneasy feeling that Joey had seen a lot more than Eli wanted him to.

  "Okay," Joey said. "Yeah, right now, he's harmless. Do you care if she knows he's staying here? He is staying here, I assume."

  "Until he can get around on his own, yes." Marilyn frowned. "Do you think she'll come over here if she knows?"

  "Not if I don't bring her and it keeps raining. She won't take the bus in the rain."

  "Then, tell her whatever you want, and pray for rain. If she decides she has to meet Eli in person, I can take him."

  "Hey--" Eli shook his head, pretty sure his panic showed big time. "I don't do moms, okay? I met your brother. That's cool. He's cool. But I don't meet any moms."

  "Sure, okay. You don't have to." Marilyn slid a smile his direction. "She's pretty scary."

  "I didn't say I was scared." He wasn't. Not of the woman herself. "It's just this whole 'meet the parents' thing. I don't." He knew better. He always moved on before letting things get that far. He was the wind, needed to blow free without anything weighing him down.

  "What's on your program for today?" Joey leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs.

  Marilyn refilled Eli's coffee cup, then her own. "I'll go out in a little to get Eli's prescriptions filled and see about renting a wheelchair. After that--" She shrugged. "I don't know. I have a class at the community college tonight, but I haven't decided if I'll go--"

  "Go," Eli said. "I mean, if it's because of me you're not. I don't need a babysitter."

  "What kind of class?" Joey asked.

  "Flower arranging." She sipped her coffee, grinning at them with her eyes. "Hey, it gets me out of the house."

  "So, go." Eli leaned back, putting on a "hot stud" act. "You can bring me flowers."

  Marilyn laughed and ruffled up his hair as she stood to gather dishes. "That, sir, depends on whether you deserve flowers."

  Eli claimed his coffee mug, protecting it from the sudden clearing-away frenzy.

  Joey put the juice carton in the refrigerator and shrugged into his coat. "Okay, then. I'm off to deflect Mom."

  "Aren't you supposed to be at work?" M
arilyn frowned at him.

  "I'm sick."

  "Joey!" She reached for his ear, obviously intending pain, and he ducked away. Eli watched, fascinated. He didn't know brothers and sisters still did that kind of stuff after they grew up.

  "I got extra time off." Joey laughed at her, zipping his coat. "To make up for all the overtime finishing that project last month."

  "Okay, then."

  "Okay. See ya round, Mare. Eli."

  When Joey was gone, Eli watched Marilyn load the dishwasher, feeling not just useless, but damn useless. Not only was he unable to pitch in and help, he created more work for her. He couldn't even get himself into the bathroom on his own. And if he didn't stop drinking coffee this morning, he'd be in there a lot sooner.

  Marilyn went to the pharmacy first, promising to return to see if he needed anything--like a bathroom break--before going to look for a wheelchair to rent. He also got her promise to use his money to pay for his medicine. Before she left, she plugged in the phone and set it beside him on the sofa "just in case."

  So Eli made some calls, locating and reserving a wheelchair so Marilyn wouldn't have to drive all over town looking for one as she apparently intended to do. She looked surprised, then pleased when he handed her the note with the information on it. He felt better, not because of the pain pill he didn't take, but because he'd been of some use, no matter how small. He did take the antibiotic.

  Then she was back. The wheelchair sat in the middle of the crowded room with both of them staring at it.

  "How am I supposed to get from here," Eli gestured at the sofa where he sat, "into there? I'm open to suggestions."

  "They gave me instructions." Marilyn sounded flustered. Eli had never known her to be at a loss, but then he hadn't known her for twenty-four hours yet. Still, it seemed unusual.

  "I mean," she was saying, "they didn't write anything down on paper, they showed me how, what to do. But it seems different doing it for somebody with two good arms and legs with--" She gestured at her sweater, then at Eli. "Never mind. I just--I don't want to hurt you."

  Eli glanced down at his still bare chest. Was it all the skin that bothered her? But she'd touched him already, put her arm around him every time he'd moved from one spot to another. He'd enjoyed every second of it, but he hadn't thought she particularly noticed that she had her hands on his naked skin. Could he make her notice?

  "You won't hurt me." Eli leaned forward on the sofa. "How do we do this?"

  "First, we move the chair closer, perpendicular to your position." Marilyn rolled it so close, the front almost touched his good knee. "Then we put on the brakes." She fiddled with something near the floor.

  Eli leaned closer to see what she did. "Show me that again." He didn't see it clearly the first time, but more, he wanted close to her warmth, close enough he could breathe in her subtle scent, feel her hair brush against his cheek.

  Marilyn worked a small lever up, then down again. "Got it?"

  "One more time." He moved his unshaved cheek nearer her hair, enjoying the silken catch against his stubble.

  She did as he asked, then backed away to look at him through narrowed eyes. "Are you paying attention, or flirting?"

  "Can't I do both?" He tried to look innocent, though he was pretty sure he'd lost the knack years ago. "Can I reach that lever when I'm sitting in the chair? Seems pretty low."

  "I think so. We'll check when we get you in it. Ready?"

  Eli nodded and put his arm over her shoulders as Marilyn slid hers around his back. She lifted, he pushed off with his good leg and he started up with ease. But he didn't want perfection. He wanted her hands on him, so when he was almost upright, he overbalanced just a little.

  "Whoa! Take it easy there." Marilyn tightened her arm, braced him with her other hand on his stomach.

  He sucked in a breath. The touch of her warm hand against his skin there, just above his navel, hit him hard. But at his quick breath, she jerked her hand back.

  "Sorry. Did I hurt you? I forgot about your bruises."

  He stretched out the fingers emerging from his cast and managed to touch her hand, trying to put it back on his stomach. "No bruises there, but I wouldn't care if there was." He winked at her. "Feel free to touch me all you want. Anywhere you want. I won't object. Promise."

  She swatted his butt. "Behave yourself."

  "Oo, Mama. Do that again a little slower and I might."

  "I thought we had that straight." Marilyn helped him pivot on one foot, so his butt was aimed at the chair. Now, as they faced each other, she held onto him with both hands at his waist and he had his good hand resting on her shoulder, almost like they were dancing. Only too far apart.

  "What do we have straight?" He wanted to ease closer to her and couldn't. The best he could do was a feeble hop and that wasn't exactly seductive.

  "I'm not your Mama."

  He couldn't resist. He slid his hand up her shoulder into the waves of dark hair above the soft red sweater and stroked his thumb along her neck. "Believe me, Marilyn," he said. "I didn't forget."

  The moment stretched as she stared up at him, her winter blue eyes soft with--something. Eli wanted to kiss her and for half a second, he thought she might let him. Then she blinked and the chance was gone.

  "Okay, Eli," she said, voice brisk and businesslike. "What you have to do now is reach behind you for the chair while you lower yourself into it."

  "Is that all?" He reached as she lowered, trying to connect with something, anything.

  The already overtaxed thigh muscles in his good leg began to quiver. Just as his hand made contact with cold metal, the chair moved. Not far. A couple of inches maybe, but he lost touch. He groped frantically, trying to find it again.

  "Have you got it?" Marilyn had her arm wrapped all the way around his middle, holding him up.

  "It moved."

  "It's not supposed to move. I put on the brake." Now she had both arms around him and her cheek pressed tight against his chest. If he wasn't worried about landing on the floor, he might be able to appreciate it more.

  "Well, the brake didn't hold, obviously," he snapped.

  "I swear, Eli, if you're playing games--"

  "Shit. Stand me up."

  Marilyn did as he asked, backing away until she held his elbow, just enough to help maintain his balance.

  Eli swore, holding back his filthiest words. "I am not playing games, okay? The chair moved. Look at it, if you don't believe me. Even if I wanted to play--and yeah, okay, I admit it, I like you putting your arms around me. But believe me, I'm not going to be playing any games when you can dump me on my ass."

  His hand curled into a fist. "I hate this. I hate not even being able to get up off the sofa without you picking me up. I hate being so fucking helpless."

  "I know you do. I'm sorry." Marilyn reached around him and pulled the wheelchair close again, her hair brushing across his stomach as she did.

  Eli stifled his reaction. If she was going to pull back every time he reacted, then he wouldn't. He'd be stone cold. At least on the outside. For now.

  "Ready to try again?"

  "What about the brake? I miss the chair, it's going to hurt."

  "I'll hold the chair."

  He cocked an eye at her. "You planning on holding the chair and me both?"

  She scowled right back. "You got a better idea?"

  "If you break me, you gotta fix me." He wiggled his eyebrows, turning it into a joke. "Kiss it and make it all better."

  "I am not kissing your backside."

  Eli laughed. "Come on, Marilyn, say it. Say ass."

  "I'm about ready to turn you over my knee and spank yours." The minute she said it, Marilyn knew it was a big, big mistake. She'd been thinking in terms of little boys too big for their britches, but Eli wasn't a little boy, and he had his ways of reminding her of that fact. As if she could ever forget.

  "I'm not really into kinky sex," he said, his voice all smoky-sounding, "but if that's what floats your boat,
babe, I'm willing to give it a try."

  Marilyn sighed. She was starting to get tired of his casual invitations, though she knew he was just trying to push her buttons, to see whether he could shock her. But if she let him know he was getting to her, he'd never let up. She had to keep on ignoring the behavior and eventually, when he realized he wasn't getting the reaction he wanted, surely he would stop.

  "Maybe later," she said. "Right now, let's get you into this wheelchair."

  "Promise?"

  Deliberately misunderstanding, Marilyn used her best bright-and-cheery voice. "Of course I promise. We will get you in the wheelchair. We'll have you hopping in and out like a pro."

  Eli rolled his eyes but proved smart enough to know when he'd lost. "Let's do it."

  Marilyn reached around him to grab hold of the chair, which brought her cheek into touching distance of his all-too-bare chest yet again. She wished his sling covered more of it. Sort of. "Ready?"

  "If you are." Eli reached back with his good arm and bent his opposite knee, the one not in a cast, barely giving Marilyn time to slip her arm around him for support.

  He wasn't a large man, more the "lean and hungry" type, but he was still big enough to require considerable effort from Marilyn to keep him from falling. As she supported him in his descent, her face once more pressed tight to the warm, hair-dusted skin of his chest, she wondered again if he was playing some slap-and-tickle game. But she could feel the quiver of tired muscle in his thigh brushing against hers, and the bunch and play of the muscles in his back and chest, sliding underneath his smooth skin. He was working too hard to be playing. She hoped he'd get the hang of this quickly. Or else start wearing a shirt.

  "Got it?" she asked.

  "I'm in." He relaxed with a puff of breath and rested his hand on her head a moment before she pulled back, brushing her nose against his sling.

  "Sorry. Did that hurt you?"

  Eli grinned, that wicked twinkle in his eyes once again. "I told you, Marilyn. If you're touching me, it doesn't hurt. Period."

  He scooted back into the chair so he wasn't perched on the edge as Marilyn shook her head and sighed. Eli ignored it. Just as well, she supposed. If he'd paid attention, he probably would have noticed how shaky the sigh sounded. She'd almost forgotten the feel of skin against skin. She'd definitely forgotten how absolutely delicious a hard male body could be. She had to remember that all his little innuendos were just a game. He didn't mean any of it.