not make you wait out on the porch as you suggested to the towing company.”
Well, yeah. If he was going to make a woman wait alone outside on a dark and stormy night, then I was going to play with my food more than usual. And he wouldn’t think my games were fun.
“Well, Mr . . .?”
“Blackburn,” he supplied obligingly.
59
What? No invitation to address him by his first name? Wife-
killer or not, he was one, hell of a jerk.
“Well, Mr Blackburn,” I started again, and even to my own wars my voice sounded a bit brittle, “I won’t be telling everyone about your kind heart and generosity if you make me wait outside. However, it’s your home and your prerogative.” I gave him a challenging stare, daring him to prove how ungentlemanly he could be.
To my shock, he obliged me. “I’m glad you’re so understanding,” he said. “I was about to turn in.” He yawned, though I’d bet he was about as tired as I was = which is to say, not at all. “Although it is not my usual practice to leave beautiful women out in the cold, as it were, I have to get up early in the morning. However, there’s a rocking chair on the porch, and I assure you, it’s quite comfortable. Would you like a cup of coffee while you wait? I believe I can keep my eyes open long enough to brew some.”
I had the distinct impression he was mocking me, though itdidn’t show in his expression. I considered the possibility of ramming my fist through his teeth. Then I considered the possibility of killing him right there and then. But a quick death was too good for him.
“Sorry to turn down such a generous offer,” I said, sneering to make doubly sure he caught my sarcasm, “but I think I’ll skip the coffee. I’d hate to keep you form your beauty sleep any longer.” I turned on my heel and stalked out of the kitchen. Although his footsteps were quite and stealthy, I knew he was following me to the door. The better to kick me out on my ass, I suppose. Bastard.
I hoped steam wasn’t coming out of my ears as I bent to snatch my wet shoes from the doormat. “It’s been a real pleasure meeting you, Mr Blackburn,” I said.
60
“The pleasure’s been all mine,” he responded smoothly.
I didn’t dare turn to look at him as I jerked the door open and stepped outside. I was so pissed my fangs were extending. Normally, it’s not that easy to get a rise out of me, but there’s nothing like a good-looking man behaving badly to set my blood boiling. Such a waste of good beefcake.
The door closed behind me, Blackburn not bothering with a goodbye, and moments later, the porch light clicked off. My fists clenched at my sides. Not only was the asshole going to leave me waiting outside in the rain in the middle of the night, he wasn’t even going to leave the light on for me.
Resisting the urge to bash the door off its hinges and sink my fangs into Ross Blackburn’s despicable throat, I plopped down on the rocking chair and settled in to wait the hour it was supposed to take for the tow truck to get here – just in case Blackburn had a guilt-induced bout of insomnia, I didn’t want to blow my cover story. But I hadn’t been sitting there more than about ten minutes when the lights in the house flicked off one by
one.
It’s very easy for a vampire to be overwhelmed by ennui as the years, decades and even centuries roll past. Those of us who’ve seen multiple centuries and still enjoy our lives do so by continuing to learn, grow and change, which is why over the last ten years or so I’d been teaching myself to be an Internet expert. It also came in handy in my line of work.
I spent the remainder of my “day” (i.e. the hours of darkness) finding out everything I could about Ross Blackburn. Some of my methods were highly illegal, but by stealth and creative storytelling (also known as lying) I’d gotten across to a
61
lot of databases meant only for
Well, yeah. If he was going to make a woman wait alone outside on a dark and stormy night, then I was going to play with my food more than usual. And he wouldn’t think my games were fun.
“Well, Mr . . .?”
“Blackburn,” he supplied obligingly.
59
What? No invitation to address him by his first name? Wife-
killer or not, he was one, hell of a jerk.
“Well, Mr Blackburn,” I started again, and even to my own wars my voice sounded a bit brittle, “I won’t be telling everyone about your kind heart and generosity if you make me wait outside. However, it’s your home and your prerogative.” I gave him a challenging stare, daring him to prove how ungentlemanly he could be.
To my shock, he obliged me. “I’m glad you’re so understanding,” he said. “I was about to turn in.” He yawned, though I’d bet he was about as tired as I was = which is to say, not at all. “Although it is not my usual practice to leave beautiful women out in the cold, as it were, I have to get up early in the morning. However, there’s a rocking chair on the porch, and I assure you, it’s quite comfortable. Would you like a cup of coffee while you wait? I believe I can keep my eyes open long enough to brew some.”
I had the distinct impression he was mocking me, though itdidn’t show in his expression. I considered the possibility of ramming my fist through his teeth. Then I considered the possibility of killing him right there and then. But a quick death was too good for him.
“Sorry to turn down such a generous offer,” I said, sneering to make doubly sure he caught my sarcasm, “but I think I’ll skip the coffee. I’d hate to keep you form your beauty sleep any longer.” I turned on my heel and stalked out of the kitchen. Although his footsteps were quite and stealthy, I knew he was following me to the door. The better to kick me out on my ass, I suppose. Bastard.
I hoped steam wasn’t coming out of my ears as I bent to snatch my wet shoes from the doormat. “It’s been a real pleasure meeting you, Mr Blackburn,” I said.
60
“The pleasure’s been all mine,” he responded smoothly.
I didn’t dare turn to look at him as I jerked the door open and stepped outside. I was so pissed my fangs were extending. Normally, it’s not that easy to get a rise out of me, but there’s nothing like a good-looking man behaving badly to set my blood boiling. Such a waste of good beefcake.
The door closed behind me, Blackburn not bothering with a goodbye, and moments later, the porch light clicked off. My fists clenched at my sides. Not only was the asshole going to leave me waiting outside in the rain in the middle of the night, he wasn’t even going to leave the light on for me.
Resisting the urge to bash the door off its hinges and sink my fangs into Ross Blackburn’s despicable throat, I plopped down on the rocking chair and settled in to wait the hour it was supposed to take for the tow truck to get here – just in case Blackburn had a guilt-induced bout of insomnia, I didn’t want to blow my cover story. But I hadn’t been sitting there more than about ten minutes when the lights in the house flicked off one by
one.
It’s very easy for a vampire to be overwhelmed by ennui as the years, decades and even centuries roll past. Those of us who’ve seen multiple centuries and still enjoy our lives do so by continuing to learn, grow and change, which is why over the last ten years or so I’d been teaching myself to be an Internet expert. It also came in handy in my line of work.
I spent the remainder of my “day” (i.e. the hours of darkness) finding out everything I could about Ross Blackburn. Some of my methods were highly illegal, but by stealth and creative storytelling (also known as lying) I’d gotten across to a
61
lot of databases meant only for
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