Grady grimaced. "Sure and I wish you could. You don't have what I want. "
"Welcome to the club. " The bartender set a short, heavy glass on the counter.
"That's flat. " Grady met the bartender's eyes. He gave a brief nod, then returned to looking around the room.
Macey slid off her stool. Obviously, their conversation was over.
But she hadn't taken one step when those ink-stained fingers reached out and landed on her bare arm. "So why did you say that yesterday?" Grady leaned toward her.
He came close enough that his shoulder bumped her bare one, and an intriguing, masculine scent came with him. She almost replied Said what? but caught herself in time. Edging away so she could look at him, she answered as honestly as she could. "I was reading a book about vampires, and they were on my mind. That's all. It just slipped out. " She sat back on her stool, the fringe from her dress shifting and sliding into place.
"Do you believe they exist?" He watched her steadily.
"Of course not. " But even as she said so, that little prickling at the back of her neck grew stronger. Discomfited, Macey twisted in her seat, looking over her shoulderZJ- at the jumble of people in the club.
Her breath caught when she spied the glimpse of someone in the shadows. . . the flash of a face that seemed familiar, that reminded her of someone. . . but then he was gone, slipping behind a decorative pillar and then into the crowd.
"What's wrong?" Grady craned his neck to look as well.
Macey turned back and tucked her curly, bobbed hair behind her ear. "I thought I saw someone I knew. " Why was her heart thumping so hard? "I've got to stop reading that book. "
"The book about vampires?"
She noticed he was holding that heavy, short glass in his hand. It was filled with an amber liquid, and as Macey watched in shock, Grady tilted his wrist and tipped the contents into his mouth with a practiced flick, then swallowed.
"But that's-that's-" Whiskey. He was drinking whiskey! She could even smell it. Macey exhaled in a big huff, for she dared not say the word for fear she'd be overheard.
"Apple juice?" He was looking at her with a bemused expression. "What's wrong, chickie? Cat got your tongue?" He placed the glass on the counter, and it disappeared just as quickly as it had been filled.
"What would your uncle say?" she managed to sputter.
His eyes lit with real humor for the first time, and he laughed. "You surely don't know much about how this city's run, do you, lass?" Then his good humor dissipated, and that sober expression returned. "You must be reading Dracula. "
Macey lifted her nose. "Of course not. Excellent book, but much too obvious. "
His lips twitched briefly. "The Vampyre by Polidori. "
"No," Macey replied, even as he added, "But that's not precisely a book. Just a story. You distinctly said 'book. '"
"And so is Varney the Vampire," she said, surprised he was so familiar with vampire literature. "Which I am also not reading. Currently. "
"Thank Jesus," he replied. "What a piece of drivel that was. "
Privately, Macey didn't disagree-but as a librarian at heart, she felt it was inappropriate for her to publicly criticize any literature.
Instead, she looked over at the musicians and saw the Negro woman she'd noticed earlier was now standing at the microphone, singing to the accompaniment of the piano. The low croon of the saxophone mingled with her dusky voice, and everything seemed to slow and quiet. Even the lights dimmed.
"I suppose you're wanting to dance," Grady said. "That's not a bad idea, chickie. At least t shiver caught her by surprise.
She looked up but made no move to join him. He might be attractive as sin, and he might have the smoothest, most velvety voice and the thickest head of wavy cocoa hair, but the man was bordering on being a complete jerk.
"My name is not chickie or lass, and I don't have any desire to dance. With you. Thank you anyway, Grady. " She stressed his name just enough to point out that she did, indeed, know it.
"And you clearly have the advantage of me, then, don't you? Knowing my name and all, my profession too. Clever girl," he said, nodding. A little smile played about his mouth and there was a hint of crinkles at the corners of his eyes. "And I don't know a thing about you except that you read about vampires and believe they exist. Oh, and you wear shoes that are too tight and cause blisters. You're very literate but not so great at math, live in or near Hyde Park, and don't have a boyfriend. "
She blinked. How did he know all that? "I don't believe in vampires. " Macey slid off the stool. Despite her heels, that only put her eyes at about the level of his nose.
"Is that so?" His gaze scored over her again. "Then you'd best be taking my advice to stay out of dark alleys at night. It's hard to protect yourself from something you don't believe exists. "