As Essie watched Jacksonstalk out of the bar, she mentally checked off the reasons why going after him would be a terrible idea.
The ink was long dry on their divorce decree. They were over. Finished. Kaput. And no, she didn’t want to be friends. On some level, he’d always hold a special place in her heart, but it was best to leave well enough alone. She didn’t want him to get the wrong impression and think there was a chance they could ever get back together.
But most important—at least at the moment—he had no right to interfere with her business. She would have been pissed if he’d blown her cover and ruined hours of work.
Tonight’s job was off the clock, a favor for the friend of a business associate whose soon-to-be ex-husband couldn’t handle the fact she’d rather spend the rest of her life alone than with his sorry ass. He’d harassed her at work. Followed her home. The poor woman couldn’t even go to the grocery store without him showing up and making a scene in the produce section. And now he’d dialed things up a few notches by threatening to release explicit pictures they’d taken during happier times unless he got his way in the increasingly hostile divorce proceedings.
Essie turned her gaze to the asshole in question and offered a flirty smile. Picking up a guy at a bar was more of a challenge than most people assumed, especially when you had a particular target in your sights. Too easy, and the mark might get suspicious. Too hard, and he might move on to what he considered a less challenging conquest.
In a way, Jackson had made her job easier. He’d given the guy a reason to come charging to her rescue, and now that she had him on the hook, the rest should be a breeze.
“Thanks for your help. I didn’t think that guy was ever gonna leave.” She allowed a slice of her native West Virginia accent to seep into her voice. Normally, she kept it buried deep, but every so often she let it emerge when it worked to her advantage. While she was at it, she added a slight slur, because she wanted this guy to assume she was easy pickings.
“No problem.” He sidled up beside her at the bar where Jackson stood minutes ago, and the pungent smell of cheap cologne hit her like a brick. Though a bit softer than she preferred, he wasn’t a bad-looking guy. Too bad he had all the charm of a constipated badger. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. I’m Cody.”
“Kerry-Lynn. Nice to meet you. It’s my first time here.” And the last. Jackson was right; she wasn’t fond of country music, and the band wasn’t doing anything to soften her stance. Over the years, she’d gotten pretty good at trolling bars, but if given the choice, she’d much rather spend the evening curled up on the couch with a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and the latest mystery by her favorite author.
Cody tipped his head in acknowledgment. “You new in town?”
“Is it that obvious?” She let out a light, girly laugh as she picked at the label of her bottle of Coors Light. Truth be told, she wasn’t much of a beer drinker either. She’d been nursing this one for so long it had gone warm, which, in her opinion, only made it taste worse, but it had a low alcohol content that allowed her to drink without getting drunk. “So how can I thank you for coming to my rescue?”
His gaze swept over her body in a way that was about as subtle as a sledgehammer. “I’m sure I can think of something. Are you staying nearby?”
“Yeah, my sister’s house. She just had a baby, so I came down to help.” The lie rolled off her tongue with practiced ease. That ability had saved her skin on numerous occasions, and now it would convince this guy to take her to his place. “I’m crashing on her couch for the next couple weeks. You?”
He hitched one shoulder in a casual shrug, while his eyes remained fixed on her cleavage. “My apartment isn’t far from here. It ain’t much, but there’s plenty of beer in the fridge, and I guarantee my bed’s a lot more comfortable than your sister’s couch.”
And people said romance was dead.
Essie fought the urge to roll her eyes as she forced down another mouthful of room-temperature beer. She set the half-empty bottle on the counter and gave a sloppy smile. If things went as planned, she’d be asleep in her own bed in two hours, three tops. “Sounds good. Let’s get out of here.”
A short time later, Cody pushed open the door to his second-story apartment, flipped on a light, and gestured for her to enter. “Ladies first.”
The cool, crisp air inside the building made the hairs on Essie’s arms stand on end. Out of habit, she quickly surveyed her surroundings, noting things such as cover, possible weapons, and placement of exits.
For a bachelor pad, it wasn’t bad. There weren’t any takeout containers crowding the kitchen counter or dishes filling the sink. The furnishings were modern and predictably masculine, and most of them appeared to be fairly new—not surprising, considering the recent change in his relationship status.
She skimmed one hand along the arm of the black leather couch as she walked past. “You live here long?”
“Three months.” Cody closed the door behind him and hung his hat on a hook by the light switch.
“It’s nice. Cozy. I like it.” Essie felt his stare on her back as she sauntered to the entrance of the galley kitchenette. She turned to face him and grinned. But before he could make a move, she asked, “What kind of beer you got in that fridge?”
“Uh…let me check.” He set his keys and phone on the dining room table on his way to the kitchen, where he opened the refrigerator door. “Looks like you’ve got your choice of Miller and Budweiser.”
“Miller sounds good.”
Cody took out two bottles, used the edge of the countertop to pop off the caps, and handed one to her.
“Thank you.” She forced down a sip.Ugh. But at least it wasn’t as bad as that drink she had years ago in Finland. She couldn’t recall the name of that particular abomination, but just thinking about it made her mentally shudder. Searching for a distraction, she pointed to the aquarium against the wall by the couch. “What kind of fish you got?”
“At the moment, I ain’t got much of anything, just a few tetras and an algae eater. Once I get some plants established, I’ll probably get a couple of gouramis or some angel fish.”
He set down his beer and reached for the container of fish food on the table. When he turned to sprinkle some flakes in the tank, she slipped the drug from her purse and into his drink. It wasn’t anything lethal, just a little chloral hydrate, a mild yet effective sedative. The dosage wasn’t high enough to cause any kind of permanent damage, but combined with the beer, it should knock him out fairly quickly.
Essie handed him the bottle and watched him down nearly half of the beer in one long chug. “So what kind of work do you do?”
“Pharmaceutical sales.”
