tried to figure out just where to start. She needed to tell him. Even if he didn’t ask, she realized. She needed to talk. But ...
“You ever going to tell me what was going on earlier?”
Slowly, she lifted her gaze from her plate, staring at him in the dim light. That light managed to make him look even more beautiful than he already was, flickering across the planes and hollows of his face, making that gilt hair gleam like burnished gold.
“Eleven years ago, I had a stalker.” She stared at him, watching the way his lashes flickered, watching the knowledge flash through his eyes.
Slowly, he leaned back in the seat, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes, thoughtful, considering, narrowed on her face. “Eleven years...that’s a long time.”
“Seems like it was just yesterday.” She sighed, leaning forward.
It wasn’t always the most demure posture in a corset. Especially if one had...assets.
To his credit, Cole’s eyes barely dipped below her neckline...at least for longer than a second. Rocki chuckled. “You know, I wore this thing wanting to look nice for you.”
“Ah...” He closed his eyes. “You succeeded. Although I’m trying to concentrate and I’m having a hard time reminding myself I’m not a twelve-year-old boy.”
She grinned at him. Then, still grinning, she eased back from the table, although she was so damned tired, all she wanted to do was rest. Against something. Or, in this case, someone. “Yesterday,” she reminded him, steering the conversation back to the unpleasant topic at hand. “It could have been yesterday. It was just postcards at first. Then the flowers started, although they weren’t so...interesting then. It wasn’t until the phone calls began that I told anybody.”
She licked her lips and looked down, absently studying her hands. She’d called somebody then. But even then...She closed her eyes. “I knew who it was.”
“You knew?”
She lifted her gaze to his. “Yes. It was an ex-boyfriend. One who didn’t want to be an ex.” Lifting a hand, she absently touched a hand to her chest. “One who would have had ten different fits if he’d seen me wearing something like this. It wasn't just the way I dressed, though. It was everything. If I didn't get home when I said I'd be, he got angry. If I wanted to go out for a movie with friends, he freaked—shoot, he used to follow us. Once, a girlfriend started flirting with these guys and he came rushing up…” She sighed and shook her head. “I got tired of it. I broke it off. He...”
Rocki turned her head. Shit. Why was this still so hard? She knew all of this, damn it. She knew it. She hadn’t grown up in an abusive home, and she wasn’t one of those women who’d been made to believe she was just supposed to take abuse.
“The day I broke it off, Dwayne acted like everything was fine. We’d still be friends. I packed up my things, took it all over to Lacey’s. Went to work...I worked part-time for a theater company, then—did the costumes, that sort of thing. I was working on designing some of my own stuff, but it was a private thing. Never made anything, never showed anybody.” Her hands were sweating. Damn it. He wasn’t going to do this her again. Not again. Swiping her palms down the front of her jeans, she looked back at Cole, making herself look him straight in the eye. “I was leaving work when he attacked me. He knocked me down, wrapped his hands around my neck, started screaming at me.”
She could still hear him. No fucking bitch leaves me—
“I tried to fight him, but then, I just didn’t know how. I kicked, I screamed as loud as I could. But I passed out. Somebody from the theater heard me, though. Called the cops. There was a beat cop close by, and thank God for that...because if they’d been a minute or two later...”
Rocki shuddered.
A hand touched her shoulder. Tensing, she looked up and realized Cole had left his seat at the booth and was now crouched by hers. She scooted over on the bench, disturbed by how desperately she needed that contact. As he settled down next to her, she rested her head against him. A strong arm came around her. Rocki groaned, sinking into the warmth of his embrace. She’d missed this...just having somebody there to hold her. Somebody she could trust. Somebody she liked and had a connection with.
And God help her...she had it