Free Midnight Man by Lisa Marie Rice

donate blood every three months and they test the blood every time. I’m clean and I haven’t had sex for six months so there’s no chance at all of you catching something from me.”
     
    She opened her mouth then closed it. Where was the nearest door so she could beat her head against it? She hadn’t thought of disease, not once. How crazy was that, in this day and age? The man clearly messed with her head. “I’m…okay, too.”
     
    “Yes, you surely are,” he said, his voice low and husky, a trace of… something in his voice. Was that a slight southern accent? “Except maybe here.”
     
    He reached out with a big hand and touched her gently on the neck, where he’d given her a love bite.
     
    “I wish I could say I’m sorry, but I’m not. Not about any of it.” He stroked her neck as she tried really, really hard not to shiver in delight, and then dropped his hand.
     
    So much for makeup, she thought. She’d reached the front door and had her hand on the door handle. Blessed relief lay on the other side of that door and she looked at the handle longingly.
     
    John laid a large palm against the door, holding it shut. “I want to know the second your period is late.” It was said in such a commanding tone, she almost instinctively replied Aye aye, sir.
     
    At least she had an answer for that one.
     
    “Oh no, um, I had some…problems. I wasn’t—“ Suzanne drew in a deep breath and tried to gather her thoughts and the few shreds of dignity left to her. “I take the Pill,” she said finally. “So that’s not a problem.”
     
    “The Pill? Jesus.“ A slow smile stole across his hard face. “That’s great news. Next time we have sex I can come inside you again.”
     
    There won’t be a next time . The sharp words were on the tip of her tongue when she heard a car horn tooting impatiently outside. She glanced at her watch and started.
     
    “That’s my taxi. I have to go.”
     
    “Taxi?” The smile disappeared, wiped out instantly. “What taxi? Why are you taking a taxi? What’s the matter with your car?”
     
    Good question. Suzanne sighed. “I don’t know. It’s at the car hospital. It was making these…these wheezing sounds and stalling at traffic lights. My car’s a real lemon and it’s always at the garage. I took it in yesterday and they said it should be ready by tonight.”
     
    “Choking, stalling. Sounds like the carburetor went. Who’s ’they’?”
     
    “The garage. Owned by a real creep named Murphy.” Just saying the guy’s name made her angry. Sully Murphy was a big fat lazy slob who used his bulk to intimidate her into spending a fortune every time her car fell apart. Which was often.
     
    The taxi driver put his hand on the horn and kept it there.
     
    Suzanne pulled uselessly at the door handle. “I have to go now.”
     
    John was frowning down at her, his big hand still on the door. She sighed. “John, I really need to get going or I’ll be late for a work appointment.”
     
    “What’s the name of the garage?”
     
    “Why on earth do you want to know—“ His frown deepened and she threw up her hands. “Okay, okay, it’s Murphy’s Rental and Repair. On 14 th and Burnside.”
     
    “Give me the keys to your car. I’ll make sure you get it back today and I’ll make sure they did a decent repair job. This is no weather to be driving around in a car with a faulty carburetor.” He took his hand off the door and held it out, palm up. “I’ll park your car out front.”
     
    Suzanne hesitated, but the truth was, she had a busy day ahead of her and it would be helpful if someone could pick the car up for her. And maybe Sully Murphy wouldn’t try to snow John with arcane mechanical details in an attempt to cheat her, as he usually did with her. He sure wouldn’t try to intimidate John.
     
    Not and live.
     
    One thing she’d learned—when it came to cars, it was still very much a man’s world. If John showed up, Murphy would probably