She almost forgot to ask her questions. "Where's Judson Tuxbridge? He's here with you, isn't he?"
His gaze on her was steady, and he didn't blink. "What makes you think that?"
"His car's on the road."
He did blink at that. It almost scared her to think she was so aware of his slightest movement."I would imagine Tuxbridge is heading back to his car about now."
"Just what were the two of you doing here, anyway?"
"He wanted to see the place. He's thinking about buying it. He wanted a second opinion."
She shook her head. "So why break in after dark? Why not make an appointment with the realtor during the day?"
Ric shrugged, a sensuous rolling of one shoulder, but his eyes were as steady as stone. "He was anxious. He just saw the place for sale today. We didn't think there was any harm in looking."
"Why did he take off in such a hurry?"
"I don't know. You'll have to ask him."
She smiled, but she knew it wasn't a pretty one. It was the expression she used on suspects when she knew she was being lied to.
"Come on, Doc. It's a crime-trespassing at the very least. The fact it's vacant doesn't matter. You know better."
"You're right. It was unthinking and foolish. My apologies."
She sighed and started walking down the driveway toward the road. He mirrored her steps beside her. Something wasn't right.
Shelby felt it in her gut. Another thought came to her. "I didn't even realize you knew Judson Tuxbridge. You never said anything to that effect during the times I mentioned his name."
"I called him about doing some work on the Chicken Palace. We found we had some things in common, that's all. It didn't occur to me to mention that I knew him. In a small town like this, everybody knows everybody, isn't that right?"
They both got into the SUV and Shelby started the vehicle up and swung around to look for the blue Plymouth. It was indeed gone. "I guess I'll have to give you a ride home. Well, Jud's no kid. He knows better, too. I'll have to have a little talk with him tomorrow."
"Listen, Shelby. I feel really badly about this, and I'm sure Tuxbridge does, too."
She glanced over at the man beside her. The long, thick hair hid a good portion of his profile, but she saw the straight nose, strong jaw, and deep-set eyes. The SUV was a roomy vehicle, but Ric seemed to fill it to the point she felt crowded. It wasn't simply his six-foot-plus size. There seemed to be an aura around him that pressed her like flesh against flesh. It was discomfiting, but not unpleasant. Still, she buzzed her window down so she could breathe. "Hey, it's not the end of the world. We've all done some pretty stupid things. No one was hurt. That's the main thing."
"Still, I'm in a position of responsibility..."
"Ric..." She flicked her gaze toward him again, and when he turned his head to meet her eyes, she had to snap her head back to the road lest she run the vehicle into a ditch. Those eyes. Which reminds me.
"What happened to the sacred glasses? I thought you were blind without them."
"I usually wear contacts at night."
She nodded and tried to take a deep breath, feeling like she was taking a plunge down a deep well. "Listen, if you really want to make amends, take me out to dinner, and we'll call it square." She had tried to inject a teasing tone into her statement. That way, in case he wasn't interested, she could pretend the appeal was a joke. But instilling both a smile upon her face and a lightness to her voice wasn't easy when she felt starved for oxygen. She didn't exactly choke on the request, but she had the horrible feeling that the words had come out like knots on a rope, stiff and tight.
"I think letting me off with dinner would be a light sentence. I think I owe you more hard time than that." She swallowed and choked, coughing uncontrollably. She managed to pull over to the side of the road and skidded the vehicle to a quick stop on the gravel shoulder. Ric pulled a bottle of water from her cup holder, twisted off the cap, and held it up to her.
"Here, take a sip, but slowly."
She did as the doctor ordered, but even in the midst of her coughing fit, the only thing she was aware of was his hand cradling the back of her head. It seemed like every individual hair was bristling with static electricity, while her scalp prickled with chilling darts that spread like goose bumps across her skin. His hand was so large it easily spanned the back of her head from ear to ear. Her coughing subsided, and when he lowered his hand, he did so in a long caress of her hair to below her shoulder.
She really shouldn't be allowing such liberties. She barely knew him, and yet what could she say? He had been helping her, and his touch had been innocent enough. Besides, hadn't she been the one to ask him to dinner? She had invited any liberties he took.
"Are you all right?" His voice was barely more than a whisper, low and resonant.
"Yeah. Sorry, I guess I swallowed wrong." She put the vehicle in gear and continued down the road.
They rode in silence the rest of the way, and Shelby tried to focus on nothing more complicated than breathing. It took all her concentration.
When she pulled up in front of Ric's house, he finally spoke again. "Shut off the engine, Shelby."
She did.
He turned to her. "What time should I pick you up tomorrow?"
She clicked on the dome lamp, even though she was afraid his sensitivity to the light might bother him. She just had to get a good look at those beguiling eyes. To her surprise, he didn't blink, but gazed at her with an intensity that sent a shiver racing down her body all the way to her toes.
His eyes were incredible. Black pupils floated in a sea of amber. There was a stillness to them, as if he was waiting, and could wait, for a very long time. Hunt. The word popped into her mind. They were eyes that could shadow a target without giving anything away.
"What time?" he repeated in a whisper.
"Ah, barring any emergencies, seven should be good."
"Good." He turned off the dome light and leaned in toward her.
His lips grazed hers lightly, tentatively, not nearly as bold and sure as his eyes had been. The strange combination of self-assurance and uncertainty unleashed an arousal that coursed from her lips to points lower. The sensation didn't sink all the way to her toes this time, but halted halfway down her body and coiled in tight bands. His lips were full and soft, and she parted her own to encourage him. He deepened the kiss, and she squirmed in her seat, trying, somehow, to give him more access to her. Her left hand slid behind his head and burrowed into his thick hair, and she was vaguely aware of the cool smoothness of the heavy strands. His mouth worked on hers, pulling away then settling again at a new angle, as if he were trying to find the sweetest possible spot. It felt good. Too good. What was she doing? I can't do this. When he dipped his head and started burning her throat with an arc of questing kisses, she lowered her hand to his shoulder and pushed him away.
"We definitely have to slow down here," she whispered. She had no air in her lungs for a plea any louder.
He leaned back. "Look at me, Shelby."
She stared at his eyes again, feeling truly caught this time by their power."After you leave here, you will forget you saw me tonight. You will not remember seeing me at either the vacant house or here in your vehicle. You will also forget seeing Judson Tuxbridge's car at the vacant house. You responded to the break-in, but checked the house and found no one. Do you understand?"
His voice was so strange. She somehow ceased to hear him with her ears, but heard his words echoing in her mind. She couldn't disobey him.
"Shelby, do you understand me? Nod your head if you do."
She nodded.
"Good. I'm going to get out now. When you get back home, you will not remember seeing me or talking to me, but when I call you tomorrow, you will agree to have dinner with me. Understand?"
"I understand."
He bent forward and pressed a soft kiss against her cheek. "Until tomorrow, then, my sweet." He opened his door, slid out, and was gone in an instant.
She started up the engine and headed home. God, I'm tired! These long days were killing her. She glanced at the clock display on the dash. The fact that she had just wasted forty-five minutes on a false alarm didn't make her feel any better.
Ric shut the front door quietly behind him and let out a long breath. The evening hadn't exactly gone as planned. His first thought when Shelby had appeared at the vacant house was to bluff his way through, but she had asked too many questions. When he learned that she knew Tux had been there as well, the decision to compel her to forget she had seen him came easily. He didn't want her questioning Tux, and he didn't want her having second thoughts about why they had been there or how he and Tux had become such close acquaintances so quickly. He didn't mind a little danger when it came to Shelby Cort, but he wanted the peril to be hers, not his.
He ascended to the tower room, phone in hand, sat down, and loosed a rumble of laughter into the night. Who was he kidding?
His physical reaction to her, and hers to him, was a far greater danger than being caught in the middle of a criminal act. And the attraction was not something he could "compel" away, even if he wanted to. No, when he had kissed her and she had returned the kiss in spades, it had been all natural.
He scoffed again at his own thoughts. As if anything about him or his existence was natural. But it had occurred without the added inducement of any seductive or manipulative power on his part, vampiric or otherwise. No, she was the one seducing him, as if he were the innocent, not her.
Tomorrow night would tell the story. It was foolhardy to pursue her, but he couldn't help himself. He was a creature ruled by passions, not logic, and all his decades at playing the cool, controlled le docteur la mort hadn't changed his basic nature. He had to see her again.
But before pleasure there was still business to take care of. He called his adjutant on the phone.
"Tuxbridge."
"It's me. A close call tonight, my friend, wasn't it?"
"What happened?"
"She knew that blue snow boat was yours, so I had to compel her to forget she saw either me or your car there. Even with my explanations I could tell she wasn't buying what I was telling her. However, if something happens and she does ask you about it, the story I gave her was that you were interested in buying the place and wanted my opinion."A sigh preceded Tux's words. "You should stay away from her, Ric. She's no fool."
"No, she's no fool."
"Don't you be."
"Don't worry about that."
Tux changed the subject. "Have you heard from any of the group yet?"
"No. If no one contacts me tonight, I want a private meeting with Eva first. Set it up for two nights from now."
"What about tomorrow?"
"I have plans for tomorrow." Plans, my friend, that don't include the rest of the Undead population of Cristallia County.
Late the following morning Shelby sat in her office with her door closed, something she rarely did. It had been a hectic morning what with the follow-ups on the investigation and requests by the local media for stories and updates. Not all the phone calls had been friendly requests, though. Reporters had slung barbed questions at her, local merchants were demanding reassurances, and more than one district commissioner hadn't been shy about telling her what he would do if he were in her shoes. She knew she was doing all that was possible. Citizens just didn't understand how law enforcement worked. They expected miracles.
Right at this particular moment, however, she found it difficult to worry about the calls or the paper. She'd had the most vivid dream last night, and she couldn't help thinking about it. She had been back in the big city. It hadn't been Milwaukee or even Chicago-it was simply a maze of unrecognizable alleys, dead ends, and unfamiliar buildings. She had been running, out of breath, chased by some unknown presence. That alone wasn't a unique dream for her. As a cop she often had dreams in which she was pursued. This dream was different in that it hadn't merely been a chase. It had become a hunt. She had felt like prey-not so much like a victim being stalked by a human predator, but like an animal being run to ground by a more powerful beast. Pinpricks of neon green all around her, the glowing nocturnal eyes, like mirrors flashing in the night to try to capture her essence...
A soft knock brought her head up. She could see Marc through the panel of glass next to the door. She motioned for him to enter.
He did, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
His brows butted against each other. "You okay?"
"Sure."
He sat down. "You look tired."
"I am. Aren't we all?"
He nodded toward the newspaper on her desk. "Yeah, but you're the one with the eyes of the county on you."
She picked up her coffee mug, took a sip, and shrugged. "We're doing everything we can. But it would be nice if something would break."
"It will."
She merely nodded, wishing she had his optimism.
"So, ah..." Marc cleared his throat. "What's with you and the Frenchie sawbones?"
She set her mug down and straightened her back. "What are you talking about?" "Well, you've been seen all over town with him."
"Not that it's any of your business, but I still don't know what you're talking about."
Marc's dark brows crept upward, lining his forehead. "You were seen in the diner together..."
"That was business." She had never been able to get used to the one thing that was so prevalent in small towns and so foreign to her with her big city upbringing. Here everyone knew everyone else's business. All the time.
"...and you were seen in the grocery store together last night."
"That was also business."
"So what did he end up having to do with the entry call at the house on Dead Creek Drive?"
Now she was confused. She shook her head. "Nothing."
"Rody said he saw the two of you in your vehicle after you left the vacant house."
"Well, Rody's wrong. Not the first time."
Marc cocked his head. "Rody seemed pretty sure. He was responding to the call and was almost there when he said you cancelled him. He stayed in the area anyway in case you needed help. He said he got a good look as you drove past him."
She hadn't remembered seeing Rody's unit. Leave it to Jason Rody to start some story about her. Gossip. How she hated it! "It's one of Jason's rumors, Marc. And there's nothing going on with the doctor. Even if there was, it's nobody's business but mine. You lost the right a long time ago to have any say in my personal life when you decided I wasn't anything more important than another notch on your belt. I still have a lot of respect for your skills, but don't dictate to me."
Marc's look of concern hardened into the "cop look," an impassive, none-too-friendly guise usually reserved for slugs and suspects. "I'm not dictating. I'm telling you, as a friend, that I have a bad feeling about Doc French. It's not something I can explain.
Just be careful around him."
It's easy enough to explain. It's called jealousy. "I'm always careful. Is there anything else you wanted?"
"No."
"Then if you'll excuse me, I've got things to do."
Marc rose without a word and left the office, shutting the door on the way out a good deal harder than he had coming in.