anything else and followed her.
They settled into the booth, and the woman took another sip of the wine. “I’m Jessica. Who are you?”
“Keane.”
“Can’t say we get many Keanes in this area.” She smiled, her eyes so dark he could see himself in them. “Lots of Larrys and Hanks and Freds, but no Keanes. Where are you from?”
“All over.”
“Mr. Silent Type switches to Mr. Vague, I see.” Jessica pursed her lips and tapped a red fingernail on the base of her wine glass.
“You don’t want to know that much about me,” Keane said.
“The police aren’t looking for you, are they?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Not that I’m aware of, no.”
“That’s all I need to know.”
Something rubbed against his leg under the table, warm and slithering upward. When the movement made its way between his legs and pressed against his crotch, he reached down and caught Jessica’s bare foot.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Playing.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “Don’t you want to play with me, Keane?”
He wanted to play all right, but he’d spent two months picturing Holly as his teammate. Sure, this woman sitting across from him was gorgeous, but too bold for his tastes. He preferred a more demure partner. Someone whose cheeks would pink when he told her she was beautiful. Someone whose ginger-red hair would spill out all around her as he kneeled over her naked body. Someone whose green-gold eyes ever reminded him of the woods surrounding his first home—the one he shared with Eliah.
“I’m not in a playing sort of mood,” he said.
“Well, what kind of a mood are you in?” Jessica wriggled her foot free of Keane’s grip.
“A self-loathing, pathetic mood.” He went ahead and took a swig from his beer. It burned all the way down like liquid fire, and he knew he’d have a wretched stomachache tonight. The last time he’d consumed food or drink he couldn’t stand up straight for hours. His body no longer knew how to digest. It simply didn’t need to.
“That mood is easy enough to cure,” Jessica said.
“You a doctor?” He took a second gulp of the beer. Man, he was going to be sorry.
“Sure, okay. We can role-play if you’re into that.” Her lips turned up into a mischievous grin. “You have a car outside?”
She’d leave here with me just like that? Keane shook his head. Jessica needed to be more careful. Didn’t she realize he could sink a dagger into her heart and end her life in a nanosecond whether she was a demon or not? In fact, it’d be even easier to kill a human.
“Motorcycle,” he said.
At this, Jessica’s eyes lit up. “It’s a lovely night for a ride, Keane, and I adore that much power between my legs.” She traced a slender finger along his hand on the table. “There are lots of things I adore between my legs.”
He took a perilous third swig of his beer, and a terrible cramp built below his ribs. He flipped his hand over and inched Jessica’s hand back toward her side of the table.
“Thanks for the interest, Jessica,” he said, “but I need to go now.”
Her ruby lips puckered out seductively. “What’s the rush? You got a wife you hiding from or something?”
“No wife.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Nope.”
“Boyfriend?” Jessica cringed a little as she waited for his reply.
“No.”
“Then why do you need to go, handsome?” She pulled on one of her curls until it uncoiled. When she let go, it sprang back up to the others.
“Because you deserve better than me, Jessica.”
He crossed the line into senseless torture and tossed back a fourth gulp of beer. When he stood to leave, his belly seized as if someone had punched him in the gut. He made it to the door, stumbled down the steps and draped himself over his motorcycle seat. A couple of patrons smoking cigars outside wisecracked about him not being able to hold his liquor. Actually, the opposite was true. His body could hold the liquor. What it couldn’t do was get rid
They settled into the booth, and the woman took another sip of the wine. “I’m Jessica. Who are you?”
“Keane.”
“Can’t say we get many Keanes in this area.” She smiled, her eyes so dark he could see himself in them. “Lots of Larrys and Hanks and Freds, but no Keanes. Where are you from?”
“All over.”
“Mr. Silent Type switches to Mr. Vague, I see.” Jessica pursed her lips and tapped a red fingernail on the base of her wine glass.
“You don’t want to know that much about me,” Keane said.
“The police aren’t looking for you, are they?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Not that I’m aware of, no.”
“That’s all I need to know.”
Something rubbed against his leg under the table, warm and slithering upward. When the movement made its way between his legs and pressed against his crotch, he reached down and caught Jessica’s bare foot.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Playing.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “Don’t you want to play with me, Keane?”
He wanted to play all right, but he’d spent two months picturing Holly as his teammate. Sure, this woman sitting across from him was gorgeous, but too bold for his tastes. He preferred a more demure partner. Someone whose cheeks would pink when he told her she was beautiful. Someone whose ginger-red hair would spill out all around her as he kneeled over her naked body. Someone whose green-gold eyes ever reminded him of the woods surrounding his first home—the one he shared with Eliah.
“I’m not in a playing sort of mood,” he said.
“Well, what kind of a mood are you in?” Jessica wriggled her foot free of Keane’s grip.
“A self-loathing, pathetic mood.” He went ahead and took a swig from his beer. It burned all the way down like liquid fire, and he knew he’d have a wretched stomachache tonight. The last time he’d consumed food or drink he couldn’t stand up straight for hours. His body no longer knew how to digest. It simply didn’t need to.
“That mood is easy enough to cure,” Jessica said.
“You a doctor?” He took a second gulp of the beer. Man, he was going to be sorry.
“Sure, okay. We can role-play if you’re into that.” Her lips turned up into a mischievous grin. “You have a car outside?”
She’d leave here with me just like that? Keane shook his head. Jessica needed to be more careful. Didn’t she realize he could sink a dagger into her heart and end her life in a nanosecond whether she was a demon or not? In fact, it’d be even easier to kill a human.
“Motorcycle,” he said.
At this, Jessica’s eyes lit up. “It’s a lovely night for a ride, Keane, and I adore that much power between my legs.” She traced a slender finger along his hand on the table. “There are lots of things I adore between my legs.”
He took a perilous third swig of his beer, and a terrible cramp built below his ribs. He flipped his hand over and inched Jessica’s hand back toward her side of the table.
“Thanks for the interest, Jessica,” he said, “but I need to go now.”
Her ruby lips puckered out seductively. “What’s the rush? You got a wife you hiding from or something?”
“No wife.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Nope.”
“Boyfriend?” Jessica cringed a little as she waited for his reply.
“No.”
“Then why do you need to go, handsome?” She pulled on one of her curls until it uncoiled. When she let go, it sprang back up to the others.
“Because you deserve better than me, Jessica.”
He crossed the line into senseless torture and tossed back a fourth gulp of beer. When he stood to leave, his belly seized as if someone had punched him in the gut. He made it to the door, stumbled down the steps and draped himself over his motorcycle seat. A couple of patrons smoking cigars outside wisecracked about him not being able to hold his liquor. Actually, the opposite was true. His body could hold the liquor. What it couldn’t do was get rid
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