Almost Perfect (Fool's Gold #2)

“I already have all your books.” He eased closer. “I thought we could end the day together.” His voice lingered on the last word, as if making a point. “Would you like that?”


Liz glanced around for Montana but her friend had been pulled aside by one of the volunteers. No one else seemed to be paying attention to what was happening.

Which was fine, she told herself. Every writer had a few crazy fans. The important thing was not to overreact to the situation.

“I appreciate the offer, but I have plans,” she answered smoothly. “Are you sure you don’t want me to sign a book?”

Something flashed in his eyes. Anger. No, that wasn’t right. It went beyond anger.

“How about a picture?” he asked.

“Sure.”

She rose, then hesitated. Normally she walked around the booth to stand next to the fan, but this time that didn’t feel right.

“You’re going to take one of me by myself,” she said, more command than question.

“Sure.”

But instead of pulling out a camera, he grabbed her arm. The action was so unexpected, she didn’t even react. She simply stared at his hand closing over her skin.

“We’re going to be together,” he told her. “Forever.”

In the nanosecond it took the words to sink in, her brain finally reacted.

“Get the hell away from me,” she screamed as loud as she could and wrenched free of his grip.

He grabbed for her again, lunging toward her. She picked up one of her last hardcovers and struck him.

“Get away!” she yelled again, hitting his shoulder, his hands, his head. “Stop it.”

He plowed into her and knocked her down. “Shut up,” he hissed, slamming her head onto the grass. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

Suddenly there were people everywhere. Dark shapes flew at her, then the air was thick and she couldn’t breathe. The man let go of her. Coughing and gagging, she sat up, shifting so she was on her hands and knees, desperately trying to suck in air. Her throat burned, as did her eyes.

A familiar voice told her to try to relax. Ethan.

She turned to him, his outline blurry through her tears. “W-what?” she asked in a croak.

“Pepper spray,” he said, lightly touching her back. “Give it a second.”

“Pepper spray?”

“You were a casualty of your own rescue.”

He pointed and she turned to look at the scene behind her. Over a dozen old ladies were beating the man with their purses and dousing him with pepper spray. Several police officers hovered nearby, as if they couldn’t get close enough to help the guy. They didn’t look like they were trying very hard.

“What kind of sicko pervert are you?” one woman demanded. “Liz Sutton is one of us. You try to hurt her, you answer to all of us. You got that?”

“Seniors to the rescue,” Ethan told her.

Liz straightened and started to laugh. Laughing made her cough, then she couldn’t stop either. Not until Ethan pulled her close and held her.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I will be.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

IT WAS CLOSE TO TEN BEFORE life calmed down. Liz had been taken to the hospital to be checked out. Less for the pepper spray than for the swelling around her jaw and the bump on her head. When she’d been pronounced healthy and ready to go home, Ethan had brought her to his place rather than hers.

“My mom is with the kids,” he explained. “They’re worried but fine. Why don’t you call home and talk to them?”

She’d done as he’d suggested, reassuring all three of them that she was fine. Then Ethan had sent her to shower followed by a long bath. The former to wash away any residual spray, the latter to help her relax.

As she stretched out in the tub, bubbles to her chin, she found herself unable to shake off the feeling of being watched. A sensation that would take time to erase, she told herself. A few minutes later, Ethan knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

He opened the door a few inches. “If I bring wine and promise to behave like a perfect gentleman, may I come in?”

Even if he didn’t promise, she thought but didn’t say. “Sure.”

He stepped into the steamy room, an open bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands. He poured one for each of them, then settled on the tile surround by the tub.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, looking just above her head, as if not wanting to look directly at her.

“Okay. A little weird.”

“Your eyes still burning?”

“No. They’re fine. The toxin wears off in about an hour.” She managed a smile. “That was the damnedest rescue I’ve ever seen.”

“Don’t mess with our seniors.”

“Apparently not.” She glanced at him. “Did you hear from the sheriff?”