Senior Prom 4

I came back to consciousness against a sculpted marble chest, being lifted out of the car by powerful arms. A tremor twisted its way up my spine, ending in a tingling shiver that gave me goosebumps and raised the hair on the back of my neck.

"Ranger," I murmured, sliding my arms around a muscled neck, burying my face in the crook of his shoulder and inhaling his intoxicating scent.

But wait… What I smelled was delicious, manly, exciting in its own way, but not the mix of Bulgari and sandalwood and Ranger that I was anticipating.

I stiffened and opened my eyes to meet the dark blue vastness of the ocean captured and framed by thick, dark brown lashes.

"Omigod, I'm sorry," I gasped out. "I thought you were someone else." I squirmed and pushed at his chest. "Put me down. I'm okay. I can walk."

He set me on my feet, keeping his hands at my waist as I wavered, still tipsy from all the wine, and then caught my balance. Oh, yeah, I remembered, Skeeter Holloway. Stan, I corrected myself. Stan Holloway.

"Sorry, Steph," he said. "You were sleeping so soundly I thought I'd just carry you inside." Stan shrugged and his tanned face pinkened. "Actually not my most brilliant idea, since I don't know which apartment is yours."

"Oh, it's two-fifteen. Right up there." I pointed to the fire escape and the flesh of my neck quivered again.

Wait… I studied the windows, trying to see if something was different from when I left. The curtains were as I remembered leaving them, windows closed, not broken. All was exactly as it should be, and yet my Spidey sense was screaming, telling me there was someone in my apartment.

"Stan, would you like to come up for coffee?" I asked, digging in my big handbag, looking for my stun gun, wondering if it was charged.

His hand rested on the small of my back as we walked across the parking lot. "Sure, that sounds great."

I finally found my stun gun and pulled it out, flipping it on to check the charge level.

"What's that?" Stan asked, looking at it curiously. It was a new, limited edition Cheetah million-volt model, palm sized and hot pink. To the uninitiated it looked like a small digital camera or remote control of some type, not like a stun gun at all.

"Just my security," I said, examining the little light. Good, it was charged. I palmed it in my right hand, away from Stan.

"So who's Ranger?" Stan asked as we entered the lobby.

I pushed the button for the elevator. "Oh, he's a bounty hunter and security specialist I work with sometimes."

"Uh, huh." Stan's voice conveyed all the skepticism I read in his face. "Not a boyfriend? Because word around the Burg is that you've been shacking up with Joe Morelli."

"I thought you lived in Princeton," I muttered. Sheesh, you can take the guy out of the Burg, but I guess you can't take the Burg out of the guy.

"I do," he answered, "but I have dinner with my parents a couple times a month. So what's the story? The way you said his name, it sure sounds like this Ranger is more than just someone you work with."

"He's a friend," I said. "A good friend."

The elevator dinged and the door opened to Mrs. Bessler. "Going up?" she sing-songed.

"Hi, Mrs. Bessler," I said as we stepped around her walker. "Two, please."

"And what about Morelli?" Stan asked, ignoring Mrs. Bessler as the elevator began its tortured ascent, creeping toward the second floor at a snail's pace, creaking and groaning and lurching. "Are you with him?"

"Not at the moment," I answered, wondering why I was letting him quiz me on my love life or lack thereof. It was really none of his damn business, so why the hell was I being so polite? I was getting ready to go all rhino mode on him but then realized Stan must have graduated with Joe. And I'm sure that the skeevy Skeeter of high school was looked down on by the cool and popular Joe Morelli, scourge of teenage virgins everywhere.

Ding, went the elevator. "Second floor," Mrs. Bessler sang out. "Better dresses, stun guns, black cargo pants."

"Thanks, Mrs. Bessler. Good night," I said as we exited.

"I don't mean to pry, Steph," Stan reassured me as we walked down the hall. He had no right to grill me about my relationships, and he damn well knew it. "I like you, a lot. If you need a friend, I'm here. And if there's a chance for more…"

I paused outside my apartment, tilting my ear toward the door to listen, Stan close behind me, his hand resting on my shoulder. "Is there something wrong?" he asked.

"No," I sighed, inserting my key. "Just being cautious." I pushed the door open and took a step inside, my eyes going from side to side, scanning for stalkers and crazies.

"Steph, sweetie," Stan said as he followed me into the small foyer, "your grandmother enlisted me to help serve refreshments Saturday night. If you're really not involved with anyone, would you be my date for the prom?"

I reached the archway to the living room and froze, causing Stan to walk right into my back. He wrapped an arm around me and tried to pull me behind him as we both gaped at the dangerous figure dressed in black, gun in hand, bottomless dark eyes glittering with fury.

In a fraction of a second I was stone cold sober.

TBC