"Working, mostly," she said quickly, feeling her face flush as she turned to grab a few napkins from the dispenser at the end of the counter. A peculiar heat also traveled along her neck, tingling like a mild electrical charge. She felt it down to her marrow, in every surging vein. She was eager to change the subject, far too aware of the heat he was putting off as he trailed her casually toward the coffee-shop door. "This is a surprise, seeing you here, Dante. Do you live nearby?"
"Not far. And you?"
"Just a couple of blocks away," she said, walking with him outside into the cool night air. Now that she was standing next to him again, she couldn't stop thinking about their strange, sexually charged encounter at the museum exhibit. She'd been thinking about those incredible few moments pretty much constantly ever since, wondering if he might have been just a figment of her imagination--some dark kind of fantasy. Yet here he was, flesh and bone. So real that she could touch him. It shocked her how much she wanted to do just that.
It unnerved her, made her twitchy and anxious. Made her want to get away before the urge became something even stronger.
"Well," she said, as she tipped her steaming cappuccino cup in his direction. "Thanks again for the sugar and caffeine buzz. Good night."
As she turned to walk up the sidewalk, Dante reached out and touched her arm. His mouth curved into an amused, if suspicious, smile. "You're always running away from me, Tess."
Was she? And really, why the hell shouldn't she? She hardly knew him, and what she did know of him seemed to send all of her senses into overdrive. "I am not trying to run away from you--"
"Then let me give you a ride home."
He pulled a small key ring out of his coat pocket, and a black Porsche parked at the curb gave a chirp, its lights flashing once in response. Nice car, she thought, not really surprised to find him driving something sleek, fast, and expensive.
"Thanks, but... that's okay, really. It's such a nice night, I was actually going to walk for a while."
"May I join you?"
If he'd insisted in that confident, dominating way of his, Tess would have turned him down flat. But he was asking politely, as if he understood just how far she could be pushed. And although Tess had been craving alone time, tonight of all nights, when she thought about making excuses to leave him, the words simply wouldn't come. "Um, sure. I guess so. If you want to."
"I'd like nothing more."
They began a slow stroll up the sidewalk, just another couple on a street full of tourists and residents enjoying the quaint neighborhood of the North End. For a long time, neither one of them spoke. Tess sipped her cappuccino and Dante surveyed the area with a hawkish intensity that made her feel both anxious and protected. She didn't see danger in any of the faces they passed, but Dante had a fierce vigilance about him that said he was ready for any situation.
"You never did tell me the other night what you do for a living. Are you a cop or something?"
He glanced over at her as they walked, his expression serious. "I'm a warrior."
"Warrior," she said, skeptical of the antiquated term. "What exactly does that mean--military? Special Forces? Vigilante?"
"In a sense, I'm all of those things. But I'm one of the good guys, Tess, I promise you. My brethren and I do whatever is necessary to maintain order and make sure that the weak and innocent are not preyed upon by the strong or corrupt."
She didn't laugh, even though she wasn't at all certain he was serious. The way he described himself called to mind ancient ideals of justice and nobility, as though he subscribed to some kind of knightly code of honor. "Well, I can't say I've ever seen that job description on a r?sum? before. As for me, I'm just your basic private-practice veterinarian."
"What about your boyfriend? What does he do for a living?"
"Ex," she admitted quietly. "Ben and I have been broken up for a while now."
Dante paused to look at her, something dark flashing across his features. "You lied to me?"
"No, I said I was at the reception with Ben. You assumed he was my boyfriend."
"And you let me believe it. Why?"
Tess shrugged, unsure. "Maybe I didn't trust you with the truth."
"But you do now?"
"I don't know. I don't trust very easily."
"Neither do I," he said, watching her more closly than ever now. They resumed walking. "Tell me. How did you become involved with this... Ben?">She shouldn't worry, but she did.
Aside from Nora, who never met a stranger, Ben was Tess's closest friend. Her only friends, in fact. Without them, she had no one, although she had to admit her solitary way of living was by her own design. She wasn't like other people, not really, and that awareness had always kept her separate. It kept her alone.
Tess looked down at her hands, idly tracing the little birthmark between her right thumb and forefinger. Her hands were her trade, her source of creative outlet as well. When she was younger, back home in Illinois, she used to sculpt when sleep eluded her. She loved the feel of cool clay warming under her fingertips, the smooth stroke of her knife, the slowly emerging beauty that could be coaxed out of a shapeless mound of plaster or resin.