a wad of paper towel. When she returned to the living room, he was right where she’d left him.
“I’m going to bandage the cut on your forehead. If you even twitch, I’ll stab you with this knife. Understood?”
“Understood.”
She knelt beside him, setting the knife next to her on the floor. Then she leaned close and dabbed at the cut with the damp paper towel. “It doesn’t look too bad,” she said. “I don’t think it will need stitches.”
He winced as she pressed on the cut to slow the bleeding. “I didn’t twitch,” he said. “That was just a reaction to pain.”
Ellie let her gaze drift down to his eyes, an odd mixture of green and gold. She stared at him for a long moment, her heart skipping a beat. She saw no evil in his gaze, no malicious intent. Instead she saw warmth and—amusement?
“Stop it,” she murmured.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Ellie said. This was what always got her in trouble! She’d encounter an attractive man and, before she knew anything about him, she’d fabricate a wildly romantic and dashing personality for him. She just loved being in love. It was like a sickness. In fact she’d just read a self-help book, Loving Out Loud, that advised a daily reality check when it came to romance. “Fracture the fairy tale,” the author had written.
Love had been precisely the thing that had sent her running from New York and a job she’d adored. Actually, it wasn’t love, but the lack of love. Not on her side, but on— She cursed inwardly. Ellie had vowed never to speak or think his name again. All right, Ronald Pettibone. When she’d first met him, she’d thought his name was so aristocratic. And he had a nose to match his name. And then she’d—
“Maybe you should call the police again,” Liam said. “They’re taking a long time to respond to a 9-1-1. I could have had a gun. You could be lying dead in the middle of this room right now. My brother is a cop, and I understand what kind of pressure they’re under, but this is ridiculous. My hands are starting to fall asleep.”
“I suppose I could untie you and you could—” She hesitated. “No. No, no, no. I’m doing it again. I can’t believe this. After Ronald, I swore off men and now—” Ellie ground her teeth. “You’re very nice-looking. I’m sure you know that. And if you did save my life, I’m grateful. But I’ve been entirely too trusting when it comes to men and that’s got to stop. Right now.”
Liam frowned. “Who’s Ronald?”
“None of your business!”
“Hey, I’m just making conversation, Eleanor.”
Ellie frowned. “How did you know my name?”
He paused for a moment. “You gave it to the police when you called.”
“I said Ellie.”
“I assumed Ellie was short for Eleanor. Isn’t it? Or are you Ellen? Eloise? Elfreida?”
She tore the wrapping off the bandage and quickly covered the cut. “Ellie. That’s all you need to know.”
“And who’s Ronald?”
Ellie sat back on her heels and picked up the knife again. “My ex-boyfriend. But I don’t want to talk about him. In fact, I don’t think we should be talking at all.”
“We could always talk about you.”
Ellie wagged her finger at him. “Oh, no. Don’t try to turn on the charm. I’m not going to fall for that. I’m impervious. I’m a rock.”
He chuckled softly. “All right. Then maybe you could get me a glass of water. I’m a little—”
The thud of footsteps on the stairs interrupted his request and Ellie jumped up, anxious to put as much space as she could between her and Liam Quinn. He was exactly the kind of man she always fell for. In truth, he was a whole lot nicer looking than the men in her past. And if he really was a photographer, then he was probably a lot more interesting, as well. And he had a better body and a decent fashion sense. And he knew how to choose men’s cologne.
“Police!”
Ellie turned to the door, setting the knife on a nearby table. The two officers rushed into the room, their guns drawn. Ellie sat on the sofa and watched as they patted Liam down and pulled him to his feet. Then they shoved him up against the wall and searched him more thoroughly.
“Would you like to tell us what you were doing in this lady’s apartment?”
“I was passing by on the street and I saw an intruder slip in the front door.”
“Yeah, right. How did you know it was an intruder and not this lady’s husband?”
“Oh, I’m not married,” Ellie piped up.
“He was wearing a ski mask,” Liam explained. “I figured my first impression was probably right. Hey, we can clear this all up right now if you just call the downtown station house. My brother is a detective there. Conor Quinn.”
They turned him around. “We’re from the down-town precinct,” the taller officer said, “and I don’t know any detective named—”
“I do,” the other officer said. “Conor Quinn. He’s in homicide. Tall, dark-haired guy. Wife just had a baby. In fact, this guy looks a lot like him.”
“She’s got my ID,” Liam said, nodding toward Ellie.
Ellie quickly stood and handed the officer Liam’s wallet. “He’s telling the truth. His name is Liam Quinn and he’s a photographer. And—and I think I may have made a mistake.”
The short officer cuffed Liam and shoved him toward the door. “I’ll take him down to the car while you take her statement,” he said.
“’Bye!” Ellie called as Liam walked through the door. “It was nice meeting you.” She paused. “Officer, can you make sure you have a doctor look at the cut on his forehead? It could need stitches.”
“Ma’am, why don’t you have a seat and we’ll figure out what happened here?” the officer suggested.
“All right. But I want you to know that he was very polite and well behaved while he was here. And he told the truth. There was someone else in the apartment. I saw him run out. I thought they were partners. I didn’t realize he was trying to save me.”
“What his intentions were aren’t really clear, ma’am. I just need your side of the story.”
Ellie folded her hands on her lap and began to recount the events of that night from the moment she woke up. As she did, her mind kept returning to the instant her eyes had met Liam’s, to the powerful current that had passed between them. Had she simply imagined it or was the attraction mutual? As she spoke she tried to push the thought from her head.
For all she knew he was a burglar and he’d end up in prison for his crime. But in her heart she hoped it wasn’t true. She hoped that the story he’d told was real, that a handsome stranger had come
