Page 19 of Dangerous Obsession

CHAPTER ONE

CHELSEA

It was New Year’s Eve, and so far, it had been the worst New Year’s Eve of my life.

That counted the one I’d spent trapped in Chicago O’Hare with my plane encased in ice and every hotel full for miles.

It also counted the one when I was a kid and puked at my parent’s big party after eating almost an entire tray of tiny hotdogs and cheese speared by toothpicks.

So claiming this one was the absolute worst was really saying something.

Even though it was cold out, it was a relief to push through the door and step outside, leaving the smothering heat and the noise of the bar behind.

The bar was Mr. Nixie’s Cocktails, just another Cincinnati tavern in the cluster of them between E.

Liberty and the Ohio River. It wasn’t a dive, but it wasn’t anything special either, despite the odd name.

I was alone. I hadn’t started the evening that way. My friend Karen had dragged me here, assuring me that she couldn’t turn her back and leave her girlfriend wallowing alone in her apartment on New Year’s Eve.

I did not wallow. It was simple. I’d moved to Cincinnati from Baltimore about a year ago and hadn’t really put down roots yet.

My life had settled into a rut. It wasn’t very exciting.

Karen was pretty much my only close friend at the moment, and the one romantic relationship I’d jumped into after moving here had exploded dramatically five months ago.

Exploded, as in I found out he was cheating on me with someone at his work.

It sucked to date a skilled liar. You always blamed yourself for trusting too easily.

Then again, I’d never been good at reading people or telling when they were lying to me. I guess I was just a fool, after all. But at least experiencing a relationship meltdown had been exciting.

Horrible. Gut-wrenching. Nightmarish. But exciting.

Still, that was months and months ago. I’d moved on. Unfortunately, it seemed I’d moved on into the boring phase of my life, and I was eager for something new.

The cold had smacked me in the face as soon as I stepped through the door, but it really settled in as I stepped down the stairs from the entrance.

The door swung shut behind me, quieting the thumping party music…

a little. My breath clouded around me as I crossed my arms, pulling my coat tighter.

Thank God I hadn’t worn a skirt. It was cold outside, but I needed the fresh air.

I’d been feeling a little dizzy inside. The Ohio winter air helped clear my head.

The street was a narrow, one-way side street.

The red brick buildings were mostly three or four stories tall, with shops on the street-levels.

No cabs in sight and not much traffic either.

I needed to call a cab or a ride-sharing service since I didn’t have my car.

Karen had gone off with a guy she’d met tonight, essentially stranding me here.

She told me she’d pay for the ride back to my place, but I didn’t care about the money.

I thought it was us two girls celebrating New Year’s Eve, but Karen had pounced on the first hot guy who’d come wandering over.

I let out a long sigh and massaged my temples. I didn’t even have a half-decent buzz from my drink. It was over an hour until midnight, and all I wanted to do was go home and sleep until Spring.

“Long night?” a man asked.

Surprised, I turned to see a man leaning against the side of the building. He had his hands shoved deep in his long coat, his breath clouding around his face. He smiled at me, and I automatically smiled back.

It helped that he was handsome. He wasn’t the kind of I’m-hearing-angels-singing or I’m-drooling-on-myself handsome that could leave me tongue-tied and awkward. Sometimes it wasn’t fair if a guy looked too good.

He was definitely good-looking enough for my taste; there was no denying that.

He had dark hair, and in the lights from the bar and the streetlights, I could see enough of his features to guess he had some Mediterranean ancestry.

Italian, maybe Greek. Or hell, maybe he was Spanish.

He had dark eyes, a strong jaw—which was clean-shaven—thick eyebrows, high cheekbones, lips…

Okay, maybe those lips made my hormones sit up and take notice.

Some people were blessed with lips from the gods, made for kissing.

This man seemed to be one of those people.

I pushed a lock of hair behind my ear, meeting that dark gaze and finally answering his question. “Needed some air.”

“I understand completely. I came here after work, but the music’s so loud that I couldn’t hear myself think.”

“Yeah, I think I’m done for the night. I came with a friend, but she went rushing off with some guy she just met.”

“I’m sorry.”

He actually did look sorry. He had big, expressive eyes. Sympathetic eyes. Eyes a girl could get lost in. But of course I really didn’t think that, because it was too sappy, and I didn’t want anyone to know what a sappy person I was deep down inside.

Forget Nicholas Sparks movies. I sobbed over Mrs. Doubtfire and Toy Story Three.

“It’s not like I’m surprised,” I replied and shrugged. “And it’s not like I won’t forgive her tomorrow.”

I’d always been a forgiving person. Besides, Karen was my only real, non-work friend here in Cincinnati, so forgiveness was pretty much moot.

The people at McFinn Dental, where I worked, were all far older than me.

I was a dental hygienist. I was good at it, but it wasn’t exactly thrilling high-tension work. Teeth weren’t very exciting.

And damn, was I complaining a lot tonight or what? I decided to put a sock in my whine hole and focus on this handsome stranger. He seemed interesting…or so I hoped.

The stranger grinned at me. “You’re a good friend to forgive her.” He pushed away from the wall and walked over to me. He held out his hand. “I’m Richard Morello.”

I shook his hand. “Chelsea Davidson.”

His hand was warm. He didn’t hold mine for too long—his handshake was almost all business—even though I wouldn’t have minded him touching me a little longer.

Like I’d said, his big hand was very warm.

We were alone out here on the sidewalk in front of the bar.

The muted bass was thumping through the walls from inside.

Occasionally I could hear the DJ calling out silly stuff designed to get people enthusiastic about New Year’s Eve and midnight.

The place wasn’t exactly a club, even though it had a dance floor and bouncers.

And it wasn’t really a bar either, although that’s what it implied in the name.

The occasional car cruised past on the street.

A few people were walking the sidewalks, couples and singles, but this street wasn’t as busy as farther downtown.

The sky was cloudy, but even though there was no moon, it still seemed rather bright.

All the city lights reflecting back from the low clouds, apparently.

The city was alive, but right here, in front of this bar, it seemed as if we were in our own little world somehow. It seemed strangely…intimate.

I took a breath, ready to say something else that would probably be inane. Silences in conversations with new people made me nervous. I wasn’t really an awkward person, but I got uneasy worrying that things were getting awkward for the other person.

Before I could blurt something out, the bar door swung open again, letting the bass-heavy music escape.

We both glanced that way automatically. A man walked out. He wore a sherpa-lined black jacket, jeans, and heavy work boots. He also wore a dark blue baseball cap with Fire Station 3 in gold letters on the front.

He saw us looking and tipped his hat our way. It was such an off-hand, friendly gesture—like something a cowboy would do—that it made me smile.

The new guy was tall. It was hard for me to judge how tall because I was only five-three or so, so most men looked huge to me.

But I guessed he was well over six feet.

He had a broad chest and wide shoulders.

His thighs were big too, really filling out those jeans.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. His hat identified him as a firefighter, and firefighters had to stay in great shape.

He looked like he bench pressed refrigerators when he was bored.

The newcomer stepped off the last gray-painted stair and moved a few paces away, bringing a cell phone out of his pocket. I reached for my own smartphone, realizing that I should put my call in for a ride before the big rush after midnight when a bunch of drunken people would need rides home.

I dug out my phone, but I didn’t have a chance to unlock it before getting distracted again. This time, it was a shop across the street that snagged my attention.

The shop facade, with its large display windows and dark purple awning, suddenly lit up with no warning. Lights above the overhead sign came on, and neon signs blinked to life in the window. “Tarot readings!” one red neon sign said. “Psychic” another flashed. “Open” proclaimed yet a third.

There was a painted hand on the glass window, and I guessed that indicated palm readings. There was a bunch of other psychic-y design stuff like moons, stars, and tarot arcana painted on the windows, along with the words Madame Wanda’s Good Fortunes . It all looked very…unique.

I frowned, staring. I didn’t think I’d noticed the place when Karen and I had come here earlier.

It was so tacky that it was hard to miss.

So why had all the lights come on now? Were late-night New Year’s Eve psychic readings a thing?

Maybe Madame Wanda was an insomniac. Or maybe she wanted to give fortunes to a bunch of drunken revelers and overcharge them.

If so, I had to admire her work ethic. If you’re sober, dealing with drunk people was an exercise in patience. I should know. Drunk guys had been hitting on me all night.