Page 11 of Stalker

He was watching me the entire time and I could swear he was testing me.

I slid the card over to him without looking and his smirk was something of an odd but pleasant reward.

“It would seem you’re not well liked.”

“My reputation precedes me.” He took another sip of his drink. His aloofness was sexy.

It was another dare or maybe an offer to cut through the veil between us. I wasn’t certain I wanted to learn more about him. That would take away from being able to talk easily with a stranger.

We continued chatting, if you could call his cryptic answers being a part of the conversation, but neither one of us asked what the other did or if this was going anywhere.

When we were near the end of the evening, he finally slipped his credit card into his wallet, signing the slip that had already been brought to him and nodding for me to rise from the table.

The man was completely dominating.

“Wilder,” he said.

“You want something wilder?” Another wave of excitement sparked a heavy spark of heat.

“My name.”

“Oh.” I laughed and it felt good to do so. I couldn’t remember how long it had been since I last had. “Cassie.”

“Cassie,” he repeated as if storing it away in his memory banks. The truth was that almost no one except my dad and sometimes Cash when he was being flirtatious had called me Cassie.

“Wilder is an interesting name. A family name?”

He smirked and grabbed his coat, not bothering to put it on. “I have no idea.”

Just as we’d walked in, we also headed out in silence, but his hand was once again placed protectively against the small of my back.

I sensed an edge to him as he climbed in, but he wasn’t pressuring me, just being as observant as he could be. I was more uncomfortable than before, unsure of what he expected. Maybe nothing. However, in my experience, when a man bought a lady a drink, he did so with the anticipation of having a good time in payment. I wasn’t that kind of girl and never had been.

After the engine was started, he rolled his head in my direction. He didn’t need words for what he was asking.

I told him where I lived.

While I’d always considered myself a good judge of character, I also knew that if he wanted to abduct or kill me, he wouldn’t have allowed himself to be seen inside a bar just before doing so. That was criminal activity 101.

The brownstone I called home was a beautiful representation of the area. The only reason I’d been lucky enough to be able to afford something in such a nice area was because the previous owner had gone into foreclosure. I loved where I lived, but I was saving my pennies to purchase a little house on the shore.

“You’ll need to park here. It seems everyone is home tonight.” I pointed to one of the only vacant spots next to the curb.

He followed my direction, immediately turning off his engine.

“I’ll walk you to your door.”

“I’m fine. Really. I’m a big girl and all. I might or might not have a can of mace and a weapon at my disposal.”

Wilder didn’t listen, opening his door the same time I did.

“Nice place,” he said after climbing out.

“It’s a good area. One day I hope to purchase a beach house, but we’ll see.”

“You like the water.”

“Always have. My mother called me a water rat, never able to get me out of the pool or the ocean. It’s where my heart and soul are. The only place I can truly relax.”

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