To Trust a Stranger by Karen Robards

acutely conscious that her nipples were plainly visible through the slithery camisole and that her long tanned legs were bare to the very tops of her thighs.
    Now that Debbie had morphed into a hot-looking guy it didn't seem right somehow to be wearing part of her collection of man-bait in his presence. But of course, she reminded herself, he was Debbie, and they were fast becoming girlfriends, sort of, and anyway the outfit covered her better than a bathing suit, even a one-piece. She certainly had never expected it to be seen by anyone, because she'd never meant to put so much as a toe outside her car. So if he was giving her that look because he thought she was some kind of an exhibitionist, he could just quit. Anyway, speaking of sartorial deficiencies, until just a few minutes ago he had looked like Steroid Barbie, all tarted up and headed downtown.
    So there.
    “Wearing this?” She glanced down at herself derisively. “I don't think so.”
    “You look pretty good to me.”
    Her eyes flew to his, and for a moment their gazes held. That massculine look was back in his eyes-wasn't it? Or was it her imagination? Before she could quite sort the matter. out, his expression changed, and he shook his head at her.
    “What you look like, girlfriend, is a woman who just rolled out of somebody's bed.”
    Her spine stiffened and her chin came up. “I did. Mine. I rolled out of bed, shoved my feet into my shoes, and jumped into my car. Where I stayed until it got stolen.”
    “If you say so.” He sounded politely skeptical. “I do.”
    “Fine by me.” He shrugged. “Want something to drink? I got water, orange juice, beer .... “
    He moved toward the kitchen, which brought him close-too close. Having him invade her personal space was unsettling-he was a surprisingly big man, and he looked so very male-so Julie felt compelled to move too, backward out of his path, and nearly tripped over Josephine in the process. Josephine yelped and shot toward the living room and safety, Julie stumbled, and Debbie grabbed her arm to steady her. Julie was just recovering her balance when Debbie let go suddenly and looked down at his hand.
    “You are bleeding.”
    Julie's brow knit. There were, indeed, smears of blood on his palm.
    Twisting her arm around and craning her neck, she looked down and discovered a nasty skinned place about the size of a half dollar on her elbow. Blood oozed to the surface even as she watched. Until that moment she hadn't even been aware of the injury. Now that she was, she could feel it burning.
    “Let me see.” His hand encircled her wrist, and he shifted her arm so that he could look at her elbow.
    “It's no big deal. Just a little scrape.”
    “Tough guy, huh?” He glanced up, met her gaze, and grinned. At close quarters, Julie reflected, those blue eyes could be quite dazzling. “Well, you're going to have to humor me. I get all light-headed at the sight of blood, see, so we're going to have to fix it. Come on.”
    She had to smile at the sheer absurdity of it. “Wuss.”
    But she didn't resist as, his hand still gripping her wrist, he pulled her after him toward the bathroom. Passing through, Julie caught just a glimpse of an untidy bedroom-chest against one wall, unmade queen-sized bed, Debbie's discarded clothing flung over a bentwood rocker in the corner so that one stretched-out black panty-hose leg trailed from the pile toward the barge-sized pumps on the floor before she found herself in a small, green-tiled bathroom that had obviously not been updated in decades. The toilet and tub/shower combination were, like the sink, white and strictly utilitarian. The room smelled of soap. Droplets of water still clung to the clear plastic shower curtain. A jar of cold cream with the lid off was on the counter; a big scoop was missing from its shiny white contents.
    Obviously Debbie had just used the cold cream as a makeup remover.
    “Let's get you cleaned up.”
    He turned on the sink taps, pumped