“I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. Nobody ever does. But it’s you, isn’t it? You are Jenna Cooper?”
She blinked a few times, and I could see her trying to match my face with a memory and failing. I mean, let’s be honest, the Jennas of the world are beautiful, and popular enough that from the day they’re born there are hangers-on and wannabes enough that they really don’t remember. Was I that girl from high school or college? The quiet mousy one? Maybe from that office she worked in briefly before marrying well? The other woman at the table gave her a sympathetic look. It’s always so embarrassing to be caught flat footed.
“Yes. I’m Jenna, but it’s Jenna Ross now. I’m sorry, I really don’t seem to remember you.”
“That’s all right,” I assured her as I pulled a stack of folded papers from my fashionably large purse. “You wouldn’t. We’ve never met.” I dropped the pages onto the napkin in her lap. “My name is Karen James, and you’ve just been served.”
I turned and walked away, my high heels clicking on the hardwood floor. All eyes were on me as I made my way through the restaurant. Not because I looked good — I did, but I will never be in the same league as the Jennas of the world. I’m short and stocky, rather than tall and elegant, my suit was black polyester, my necklace tiny seed pearls. But I’d done my job, and done it well. Mrs Ross had been served her divorce papers very, very publicly, just the way her husband wanted.
Nobody bothered me on my way out. Since I hadn’t bothered with the valet, I waved him away when he started to approach, walking to the farthest end of the lot where the employees park. I’d left my car there, because my battered, twelve-year-old subcompact would’ve stuck out like a sore thumb among the shiny new BMWs and Mercedes.
I walked confidently up to my car, keys in hand. I’d parked directly under the street light. I could see every detail in that flat, orange light. He didn’t step out of the shadows. There were no shadows. He simply appeared. Like smoke, in thin air.
I didn’t scream. I’ve seen the show before. Only this wasn’t Daniel. Which meant I was in trouble.
“That was cleverly done. A brilliant piece of acting work you pulled off in the restaurant, if I do say so myself.” He was tall and slender, but well built. His hair was a natural silver-blond that looked perfectly in keeping with his marble-white s
kin. The voice was cultured too, as smooth as that same marble. Soothing. It was all part of the package. I didn’t dare look into his eyes, but I had no doubt they were gorgeous - and utterly mesmerizing.
The stranger stood in quiet amusement as I took in every bit of his appearance.
“Thank you. I’m actually very good at my job.”
“As am I.”
I didn’t doubt it. With those looks and attitude he probably had to beat off the prey with a stick. Sex is a powerful lure, and by God he was sexy. His whole body breathed pheromones. I felt my body tighten, and it wasn’t from fear. Dammit.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
“No.” I fought the compulsion. It wasn’t easy. But I’m as stubborn as hell and I’ve had lots of practice, so I managed.
“Look at me.” There was a hint of a growl in the voice, and I felt my body give an involuntary jerk. But I closed my eyes and fought for all I was worth.
“You know our ways, how is that possible?” Hands like steel bands dug into my shoulders as he grabbed me, intending to drag me towards him. “I smell . . . Daniel.”
He pulled harder, and the pain was blinding. I fought long enough for him to put some strength into it then surprised him by going utterly limp. When he bent over to catch me, I punched upwards as hard as I could, driving my car keys deep into his throat, my fist slamming against his windpipe.
He reared back, blood pouring from his neck in a wide spray. I’d caught an artery. His teeth bared, and I caught a glimpse of vicious fangs.
I started screaming bloody murder. The valet turned, as did the customers he was serving. They moved slowly, as if coming out of a trance. But they did move. Apparently I’d injured him badly enough that he couldn’t heal and use his mojo. The men ran towards us. The woman pulled out a cell phone and began dialling 911.
“You’ll pay for that, bitch.” He spit the words out with a spray of blood, and vanished, like a puff of smoke.
“Are you all right? You’re covered in blood! What happened? Where did he go?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” I stood up and tried to brush the dirt and leaves from my torn stockings, which just smeared the blood around worse. My hands were covered in it. In fact, there was enough blood that if he’d been human I’d have worried about him bleeding to death. But he wasn’t. Which meant that I’d just pissed him off. Of course, I couldn’t tell my rescuers that. After all, vampires don’t exist.
Yeah, right.
The police came, and there was an ambulance. It took hours to deal with all of the official crap. Other than bone-deep bruising on my shoulders, I didn’t have any injuries, but the doctors were worried that I was going into shock. So I had to call my boss. His irritation at my being off duty for the rest of the night was only slightly mollified by the fact I’d gotten Mrs Ross. Knowing my luck, he’d dock me for the extra hours. Between the statements for the police and the emergency room rigmarole, it was 3 a.m. by the time I climbed out of the cab that dropped me off at my apartment door.
My eyes burned with exhaustion, my clothes and keys had been impounded for evidence, and I was out the cab fare home. If a particularly kindly ER nurse hadn’t loaned me a spare set of scrubs, I don’t know what I would have done. As it was, the thin cotton did nothing to cut the chill breeze blowing. I shuddered, shivering as I scrounged the last of the change from the bottom of my purse to come up with enough to pay the cabbie. No tip. But there you go.
A blast of cold wind plastered the thin green cotton of the borrowed scrubs against my skin. Swearing, I hurried across the short stretch of gravel that led to the back door of my apartment building.
Twitchy with nerves, I kept looking over my shoulder, my fingers trembling as I tried to punch in the access code for the door.
“What’s happened to you?”