Therefore my near miss with the law didn’t stop me from going out the following Friday. At least this way, I knew I was making one person happy. My mother. Well, she had a right to hold a grudge. I just wished it hadn’t spilled over to me.
The club’s loud music hit me like a splash, jerking my pulse to its beat. I made my way carefully through the crowds, seeking that unmistakable vibe. The place was packed, a typical Friday night. After I wandered around for an hour, I felt the first stirrings of disappointment. There appeared to be only people here. With a sigh, I sat at the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. The first man who tried to kill me had ordered it for me. It was now my drink of choice. Who said I wasn’t sentimental?
Men approached me periodically. Something about being a single young woman screamed “Screw me” to them. Politely and somewhat impolitely I turned them down, depending on how persistent they were. I wasn’t here to date. After my first boyfriend, Danny, I never wanted to date again. If the guy was alive, I wasn’t interested. No wonder I had no love life to speak of.
After three more drinks I decided to cruise the club again, since I was having no luck being bait. It was nearly midnight, and so far there had been nothing aside from alcohol, drugs, and dancing.
Booths were tucked in the far corner of the club. As I passed in front of them, I felt a twinge of charged air. Someone, or something, was near. I stopped and did a slow circle, attempting to ferret out the location.
Out of the light and obscured by shadows, I saw the top of a man’s head bent forward. His hair was nearly white under the intermittent lighting, but his skin was unlined. Hollows and contours became features as he looked up and spotted me staring at him. His brows were distinctly darker than his hair, which appeared to be light blond. Those eyes were dark as well, too deep for me to guess a color. His cheekbones could have been chiseled from marble, and that flawless diamonds-and-cream skin gleamed from under his shirt collar.
Bingo.
Pasting a false smile on my face, I sauntered over with the exaggerated walk of someone drunk and plunked myself down on the opposite seat.
“Hello, handsome,” I said in my most alluring voice.
“Not now.”
His tone was clipped, with a distinct English accent. I blinked stupidly for a moment, thinking maybe I had drunk too much and misunderstood him.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m busy.” He sounded impatient and mildly annoyed.
Confusion raged in me. Could I have been wrong? Just to be certain, I reached out and ran a finger lightly over his hand. The power nearly jumped off his skin. Not human, all right.
“I was wondering, um…” Stumbling over my words, I searched for an enticing phase. Frankly, this had never happened before. Usually his kind were easy pickings. I didn’t know how to handle this as a true professional would.
“Want to fuck?”
The words burst out, and I was horrified at myself for saying them. I barely managed to avoid clapping a hand over my mouth, never having used that word before.
He glanced back with a curl of amusement on his lips, having turned away after his second refusal. Dark eyes raked me appraisingly.
“Bad timing, luv. Have to wait until later. Be a good bird and fly away, I’ll find you.”
With a flick of his hand, he dismissed me. Numbly I got up and walked away, shaking my head at the turn of events. Now how was I supposed to kill him?
In a daze I went to the ladies’ room to inspect my appearance. My hair looked okay, albeit its usual startling crimson shade, and I wore my lucky top, which had led the last two guys to their doom. Next I bared my teeth at my reflection. Nothing was stuck in them. Lastly, I raised my arm and sniffed near the crease. No, I didn’t smell bad. What was it, then? A thought occurred to me. Could he be gay?
Reflectively I considered it. Anything was possible—I was proof of that. Perhaps I could watch him. Follow him whenever he tried to pick someone up, male or female. Decision made, I headed out with renewed determination.
He was gone. The table he’d been crouched over was empty, and there was no trace of him in the air. With growing urgency I searched the surrounding bars, the dance floor, and the booths again. Nothing. I must have dawdled too long in the bathroom. Cursing myself, I stalked back to the bar and ordered a fresh drink. Although alcohol didn’t dull my senses, having a drink was something to do, and I was feeling very unproductive.
“Beautiful ladies should never drink alone,” a voice said next to me.
Turning to give a rebuff, I stopped short when I saw my admirer was as dead as Elvis. Blond hair about four shades darker than the other one’s, with turquoise-colored eyes. Hell’s bells, it was my lucky night.
“I hate to drink alone, in fact.”
He smiled, showing lovely squared teeth. All the better to bite you with, my dear.
“Are you here by yourself?”
“Do you want me to be?” Coyly, I fluttered my lashes at him. This one wasn’t going to get away, by God.