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would have said about it, if Brittany had witnessed any of it. Which, thank God, she hadn’t.
    “Is there somebody I should call for you?” Elijah asked her. “Friends, maybe? I just don’t want to leave you by yourself. You still don’t look too steady.”
    She didn’t? Funny, she felt better now, stronger by the second. “I’ll be all right,” she told him, and smiled. This time, it felt more real to her, less like pasting an emoticon on her face. “Thank you for helping me. I guess I needed it.”
    “Glad I was around,” he said. He was watching her with an unnerving amount of focus; she wondered if he was looking for signs of brain damage or just another unscheduled collapse. “Hope—look, about the money. You should be more careful carrying that kind of cash around.”
    “I’m sorry. I thought they were twenties. It was just a mistake.”
    “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter,” he said. “I thought you were on something at first, the way you were jacked up nervous. But that isn’t it, is it? You’re just scared.”
    Scared out of my mind, she thought, but the words stuck in her throat. Once she admitted that, she was going to have to tell him why she was scared, and that would lead to talking about the backpack, and then The Coffee Cave, and the dead man, and she just … couldn’t. Better to say nothing than to say everything. At least, that was the theory.
    In practice, the words battered at her insides so hard she wrapped her arms around her stomach, willing them to stop.
    “Are you going to throw up?” Elijah asked. It sounded practical, like he’d dealt with it before. A lot, maybe. “I can get you a trash can.”
    “No,” she said quickly with a shake of her head to reinforce it. “No, I’m fine.” As if a pale, fainting, scared girl wasn’t unattractive enough already, adding vomit would drive him away for sure, and she wasn’t ready for that. Wasn’t ready to be alone again with that hard black bubble of despair inside her, ready to burst. She had to admit, having someone here, someone caring, made a difference, even if he was a complete stranger. A stranger with a possible agenda, though if that was the case, wouldn’t he have closed the door? He could have ripped her off easily. He could have done anything he’d wanted.
    “You don’t look fine,” E.J. said, and then his face took on an expression of pure chagrin. “I didn’t mean that. I mean, I don’t think you’re fully recovered yet. You look great, is what I mean. Just a little shaky. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
    “No,” she said. “I can’t. I swear, it’s okay, though. Really. I do appreciate what you did for me.”
    “Hey, you did give me a hell of a good tip; it was the least I could do.” He hesitated for a second, then said, “I guess I should get going. It’s getting close to my time for pickup.”
    “Pickup?”
    From the flash of a frown, he wished he hadn’t said that. “I mean, my ride. I shouldn’t keep them waiting.”
    “So that means no dinner?”
    She’d surprised him, she saw that, though he covered it with a quick, dimpled grin. “You are feeling better, I guess. Look, can I rain check it? I really do have to get back. Sorry. Next time.”
    “Okay,” she said. “Well, you’ve got the number. I mean, on the magazine sheet. So you can call if you feel like lunch or something.”
    He was going to say something else, but right about then, the elevator dinged, and Hope turned to look out of the room and down the hall.
    Well, crap.
    Her roommate had arrived. She wasn’t a tall girl, but she was definitely striking … she worked damn hard at it, from the stiletto heels to the illegally short cutoffs to the not-quite-matching hair extensions. She headed for the room with (of course) a guy hot on her trail, and she walked like a runway model, full of fierce attitude.
    At least until she staggered a little. So she was already somewhere on the drunk scale.
    “What