The living area was small with just two small windows to allow light in. The kitchen took up one wall. It had a refrigerator that was so tiny he wondered how much food would actually fit in it. The wallpaper was peeling off the walls and the worn carpet was a horrid yellow-brown color. He couldn’t tell if that was the actual color or it was just badly stained.
There were two doors leading off the living room. He opened both of them. One led to a bathroom with mustard-colored fixtures. The other was storage.
“Where is your bedroom?” he asked.
“It’s a studio apartment,” she said. “You’re in my bedroom. You really didn’t have to walk me inside.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You expected me to just let you walk in alone? In this neighborhood?”
“The neighborhood isn’t as bad as it looks. And I have an alarm.”
Alex glanced at the alarm system. Astonishingly, it actually looked top of the line.
“I’m surprised these apartments have alarms,” he said. He moved over to the fridge, unable to resist looking in. There was a half-full carton of orange juice, some eggs and a few carrots.
“Will you stop snooping around,” she ordered, walking over to the threadbare sofa. She sat down with a sigh.
“You’d think they would fix the holes in the wall before bothering with an alarm,” Alex said as he prowled around. A crate with a blanket over it acted as her coffee table. On top of it were a pile of books.
“The other apartments don’t have alarms,” she told him tiredly.
He frowned as he wondered how she could afford it.
“It was a gift from a friend,” she added.
Alex stiffened at her words. His wife had had lots of ‘gifts’ from friends. He’d only learned later that those friends were men she was sleeping with.
“Is that so?” he said coldly.
“What?” she asked looking at him in confusion. “Yes, have you got a problem with that?”
“What kind of friend? That’s a very expensive gift for a friend to give you.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked with exasperation. “What do you care how much it cost?”
“Just wondering what you gave them in return.”
She jumped to her feet then let out a low moan and nearly crumpled to the floor. He grabbed her before she could land, scooping her up into his arms. He groaned at the feel of her soft body against his.
Tara barely weighed a thing and he remembered that she’d said she hadn’t eaten in hours. He’d given her a chocolate bar at the club, but that wasn’t enough.
“Put me down,” she ordered, wriggling in his arms.
“Lie still,” he growled as he placed her back on the sofa. She tried to sit up, but he held her down, kneeling on the floor beside her. “Stay there.”
“I just stood up too quickly, I’m fine.”
He gave her a firm look. “You nearly fainted again. I’m ordering you some takeout.”
“It’s too late to eat. Besides, I want you to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I’m sure you’re all right. There’s a pizza place on the corner, I’ll go get you a slice.”
She shook her head. “I can’t eat the pizza there. I’m gluten intolerant. You need to go. You call me a slut, but you want to stay and look after me? Can you see a problem with that?”
“I did not call you a slut,” he said, although he knew he’d implied it. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to insult you.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “Fine,” she said grudgingly after a moment. “You still need to go. I want to sleep.”