next to me and smiled pleasantly at Dorrie. “What does a guy have to do to get a drink around here?”
“Well,” Dorrie giggled, “Looking like you is a swell start. What’s your pleasure, Inheritor? We do carry bottled blood, but I’m not sure as to the vintage.”
He waved his hand. “The thirst only hits occasionally. When it does, there’s nothing like the lily-white neck of a virgin.”
Dorrie almost gagged. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Leaves me out. Too bad.” She gave me a mischievous grin. “Morgan might still be in the running, though.”
My eyes widened and I felt my cheeks start to flame. “Dorrie!”
Cole laughed. “Right now I’d much rather have a Scotch, neat.”
“Coming right up, handsome.” She swung over to the rack of bottles behind the sink, pulled two of them down. “You got it.”
Cole glanced over at me. “I hope you don’t mind sharing your space with a cocky, supercilious bastard. I am sorry I didn’t get my job via nepotism, but I’ll try very hard to live up to your other expectations.”
I bit my bottom lip so hard, I tasted blood for the second time today. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “My mouth gets the better of me sometimes.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “So I’ve heard.”
I drank from the mug again, more to cover my sudden nervousness than any real thirst. “What did you follow me here for?”
Dorrie set a glass in front of Cole. He picked it up, swirled the amber liquid, took a sip. “You really think you’re something don’t you? What makes you think I’d follow you?”
“Because you didn’t get what you wanted this afternoon,” I answered. “Plus the fact there would be no other reason for you to come into a gin mill like this.”
“Hey,” Dorrie cried. “I resent that remark—I think.”
Cole’s gaze flicked to the weretender. “You’re right to resent it, Dorrie. She meant it as an insult—to both of us.” He took another sip of Scotch, set the glass down. “Very smooth,” he nodded. “I’ll definitely have another. I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”
Dorrie grinned and eyed me as she pointed at Cole. “I like him,” she said as she moved away. I glared at Cole.
“You might as well finish your drink and take off. You’re not going to convince me to work this case with you.”
He stared intently into my eyes. “Aren’t I?”
I averted my eyes and downed the rest of the coffee, held the mug out. “Dorrie—more of this swill—and this time, two shots of Zuluki! Please!” I set the mug down, turned back to Cole. “I don’t have to hear the details. You want me to try and tap into something I did once before—with disastrous results.” As he opened his mouth, I held up my hand. “Don’t say it, please.”
“Say what?”
“What happened wasn’t my fault. It damn well was, and I take full responsibility for it.”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t going to say that at all.”
I stared at him. “You weren’t?”
He took another sip of Scotch. “No, in fact, quite the opposite. You thought because of your unique heritage, it would be a simple matter for you to master an art you’re basically unfamiliar with. Your intentions were noble, my dear, however you lacked proper guidance, training. The end result…well, we all know how it turned out, right? I can appreciate the good intentions behind it, but it was, in short, a foolhardy attempt—not worthy of you, not at all.”
My jaw thrust out, and I gritted my teeth. “Wow, thanks for being so subtle. And how do you know what’s worthy of me?”
He shrugged. “Whether I do or don’t, you wished the truth, didn’t you? Well, there it is…as I see it, anyway.”
Dorrie set a fresh mug in front of me and I grabbed it, tasted the liquid. Great. There had to be at least four shots of Zuluki in this one. “Why would you say you disapproved of my trying to use my heritage, when you so obviously want me to use it on this case?”
He shook his
“Well,” Dorrie giggled, “Looking like you is a swell start. What’s your pleasure, Inheritor? We do carry bottled blood, but I’m not sure as to the vintage.”
He waved his hand. “The thirst only hits occasionally. When it does, there’s nothing like the lily-white neck of a virgin.”
Dorrie almost gagged. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Leaves me out. Too bad.” She gave me a mischievous grin. “Morgan might still be in the running, though.”
My eyes widened and I felt my cheeks start to flame. “Dorrie!”
Cole laughed. “Right now I’d much rather have a Scotch, neat.”
“Coming right up, handsome.” She swung over to the rack of bottles behind the sink, pulled two of them down. “You got it.”
Cole glanced over at me. “I hope you don’t mind sharing your space with a cocky, supercilious bastard. I am sorry I didn’t get my job via nepotism, but I’ll try very hard to live up to your other expectations.”
I bit my bottom lip so hard, I tasted blood for the second time today. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “My mouth gets the better of me sometimes.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “So I’ve heard.”
I drank from the mug again, more to cover my sudden nervousness than any real thirst. “What did you follow me here for?”
Dorrie set a glass in front of Cole. He picked it up, swirled the amber liquid, took a sip. “You really think you’re something don’t you? What makes you think I’d follow you?”
“Because you didn’t get what you wanted this afternoon,” I answered. “Plus the fact there would be no other reason for you to come into a gin mill like this.”
“Hey,” Dorrie cried. “I resent that remark—I think.”
Cole’s gaze flicked to the weretender. “You’re right to resent it, Dorrie. She meant it as an insult—to both of us.” He took another sip of Scotch, set the glass down. “Very smooth,” he nodded. “I’ll definitely have another. I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”
Dorrie grinned and eyed me as she pointed at Cole. “I like him,” she said as she moved away. I glared at Cole.
“You might as well finish your drink and take off. You’re not going to convince me to work this case with you.”
He stared intently into my eyes. “Aren’t I?”
I averted my eyes and downed the rest of the coffee, held the mug out. “Dorrie—more of this swill—and this time, two shots of Zuluki! Please!” I set the mug down, turned back to Cole. “I don’t have to hear the details. You want me to try and tap into something I did once before—with disastrous results.” As he opened his mouth, I held up my hand. “Don’t say it, please.”
“Say what?”
“What happened wasn’t my fault. It damn well was, and I take full responsibility for it.”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t going to say that at all.”
I stared at him. “You weren’t?”
He took another sip of Scotch. “No, in fact, quite the opposite. You thought because of your unique heritage, it would be a simple matter for you to master an art you’re basically unfamiliar with. Your intentions were noble, my dear, however you lacked proper guidance, training. The end result…well, we all know how it turned out, right? I can appreciate the good intentions behind it, but it was, in short, a foolhardy attempt—not worthy of you, not at all.”
My jaw thrust out, and I gritted my teeth. “Wow, thanks for being so subtle. And how do you know what’s worthy of me?”
He shrugged. “Whether I do or don’t, you wished the truth, didn’t you? Well, there it is…as I see it, anyway.”
Dorrie set a fresh mug in front of me and I grabbed it, tasted the liquid. Great. There had to be at least four shots of Zuluki in this one. “Why would you say you disapproved of my trying to use my heritage, when you so obviously want me to use it on this case?”
He shook his
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