vaguely menacing just the same.
“Don’t worry. I’m absolutely sure that I don’t like green-eyed women,” he returned shortly. He sat back in the chair with a rough sigh and shifted, one big hand idly rubbing the thick hair on his chest. He made her very self-conscious and nervous. He looked aggressively masculine, whether he was or not. She fidgeted.
“I can find you something to put on, if you like,” she said after a minute.
“That would be nice. Your male friend leaves things here, I suppose? To remind you that you cohabit with him?”
She didn’t like the sarcasm, but she didn’t rise to it. She slipped easily off the stool. “The shirt may be a bit tight, but he’s got some baggy shorts with an elastic waist that probably will fit you. I won’t be a minute.”
She darted into Clayton’s bedroom and borrowed the biggest oversize shirt he owned, a three-colored one, and a pair of big tan shorts. They hung on her brother, but they were probably going to be a tight fit on the giant she’d found washed up on the beach.
She carried the clothes back in to him. “The bathroom is through there,” she said, nodding down the hall. “Third door on the right. You’ll find a razor and soap and towels if you’d like to clean up. Are you hungry?”
“I think I could eat,” he said.
“I’ll make an omelet and toast.”
He got to his feet very slowly, the clothes in one large hand. He hesitated as he turned to leave the room, looking very big and threatening to Nikki. “I don’t remember anything. But I’m not a cruel man, if it helps. I do know that.”
“It helps.” She managed a smile.
“I’m not used to accepting help from strangers,” he added.
“Good thing. I’m not used to offering it to strangers. Of course, there’s a first time…”
“…for everything,” he finished for her. “Thanks.”
He left the room and Nikki got out eggs and condiments, proceeding to make an omelet.
He showered and shaved before he changed into the dry clothes and joined her in the kitchen. He was still barefoot, but the shorts did fit. The shirt showed off muscles that had obviously not been obtained by any lengthy inactivity. He was fit and rippled, very athletic. Nikki had to remind herself not to look at him too hard.
“What do you like in your coffee?” she asked as she poured it into thick white mugs and set them on the spotless green-and-white checked tablecloth.
He frowned as he sat down. “I think I like cream.”
“I’d have thought you were a man who never added anything to his coffee,” she murmured with amusement.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. You seem oddly familiar to me, as if I know you. But I don’t believe that I’ve ever seen you before,” she said quietly.
He shrugged. “Maybe I have that kind of face.”
Her eyebrows arched. “You?”
He smiled, just faintly. “Thanks.” He sipped his coffee and pursed his lips. “Very nice. Just strong enough.”
“I make good coffee. It’s my only real accomplishment, except for omelets. I’m much too busy to learn how to cook.”
“What does your poor friend eat?” he asked.
“He lives on fast food and restaurant chow, but he isn’t home much.”
“What does he do?”
She studied him. “He’s in energy,” she said, which was the truth. He sat on the Energy and Commerce Committee that dealt with it.
“Oh. He works for a power plant?”
“That’s pretty close,” she agreed, hiding the amusement in her eyes as she thought about the power that particular committee wielded nationally.
“And what do you do?”
“Moi?” she laughed. “Oh, I sculpt.”
“What?”
“People.”
He looked around at the furniture, but the only artwork of any kind that was visible were some prints she’d purchased.
“I sell my work in galleries,” she told him.
He decided to reserve judgment on that reply. The house was a dump, and she had to know it. She obviously had little money and lived with a man who had even less. He knew that he couldn’t afford to trust her. He wished he knew why he was certain of that. “Do you have any of your work here?”
“A bust or two,” she said. “I’ll show you later, if you like.”
He sampled the omelet. “You’re good.”
“Thanks.” She studied his face. It was pale, and he seemed to be having a hard time keeping his eyes open. “You’re drowsy.”
“Yes. I don’t know how I know it, but I’m pretty sure that I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”
“Woman trouble?” she asked with a knowing smile.
He frowned. “I’m not sure. Perhaps.” He looked up. “I can’t possibly stay here…”
“Where would you go?” she asked reasonably. “You can’t wander up and down the beach here, the police will pick you up for vagrancy. Do you remember where you live?”
“I don’t even know my name,” he confessed heavily. “You can’t imagine how intimidating that is.”
“You’re right.” She searched his tanned face, his dark eyes. He looked incredibly tired. “Why don’t you have an early night? I’ll send Chad in to check you out when he swings by. He’s a friend,” she added. “He’ll do it as a favor, so you don’t have to worry about his fee. Things will look so much better in the morning. You might remember who you are.”
“God, I hope so,” he said gruffly. “The man…who lives here. You said he’d be here later?”
She nodded, her eyes as steady as if she’d been telling the truth, and he was fooled.
“Then it will be all right, I suppose. I appreciate your trust. I could be anybody.”
“So could I,” she said in a menacing tone, grinning.
He got the point. When she showed him to the guest bedroom, he fell on the bed without bothering to turn back the covers. Within seconds, he was sound asleep.
He was still sleeping when Chad stopped by to check him. Nikki waited in the living room until the doctor came out, bag in hand, gently closing the door.
“He’s
