A Vampire for Christmas(95)
But no, he accepted the cup and even patted Harry on the shoulder before the older man shuffled on down the sidewalk toward home. Meanwhile, Eagan took a long sip from the cup, the whole time staring straight up at her window.
Did he know she was watching him? It wasn’t as if he knew where she lived, and she hadn’t turned on any lights in the apartment. He shouldn’t be able to see her at all, but she suspected he saw her all too clearly.
When she raised her hand in a tentative wave, he held the cup up as if toasting her before fading back into the shadows. Turning away from the window, she felt as if she’d just brushed up against something powerful and potentially dangerous.
She shivered. Maybe she’d soak in the tub before curling up under the covers in her flannel gown and wool socks. Not a very sexy image, but then it had been a long, long time since she’d last had someone to warm her bed.
For sure Eagan was a far cry from her usual choice in men, but there was just something about the guy that made her want to learn more about him. As she slipped into her old claw-foot tub filled with hot water and lavender bath salts, she pictured him in her mind.
He had a rough look about him, as if life had left him a bit battered but definitely not broken. A woman could get lost in those intense ice-blue eyes. Did he ever smile? She’d like to see that. Her fingers flexed, imagining the sleek muscle under that T-shirt and those faded jeans. What had he done to his leg that left it aching? So many questions with no answers.
There was also a kind of strength in him that was impossible to miss. Even though he wore his solitude as comfortably as he did that scuffed leather duster, he hadn’t hesitated to come to her aid and he’d been kind to old Harry out there. Yes, Eagan was quite the puzzle, one she had no business wanting to solve.
CHAPTER THREE
EAGAN SAVORED THE hot drink as he walked down the street. Damn that woman anyway. He didn’t want to feel grateful for the small bit of warmth, but he did. It didn’t help that the rich scent had him thinking of Della’s dark chocolate eyes staring down at him from above the diner.
She hadn’t thought he’d notice her, but with his night vision she might as well have been standing in a spotlight. Had she been worried that he’d refuse her gift or that he’d abuse her friend Harry?
The old man had actually warned Eagan that it was impossible to derail Della once she got it in her head to do something nice for a person. Also, if it bothered him, he could always work off the debt doing odd jobs for her. Harry himself broke up boxes for her when she’d let him.
Yeah, Eagan had been right about Della being a chronic do-gooder. He supposed the world needed people like her.
He sure as hell didn’t.
Of course, since he hadn’t been able to pay for his coffee, she now had him pegged as another person who needed a helping hand. Yeah, well, he had better uses for her hands than making him a cup of hot chocolate. He smiled, revealing his fangs at the thought of explaining what that would entail. Her fair skin might blush all rosy, but he was willing to bet there’d be a healthy dose of desire mixed with curiosity in those expressive eyes.
Not happening, though.
He’d been born vampire, but it was possible to share his longevity and strength with a human mate through periodic blood exchanges. The V gene was dominant, so any offspring would be vampire like him. Night dwellers. Blood drinkers destined to dwell in the shadows in a life filled with secrets. They could consume human food, but it was human blood they needed to thrive.
As he walked, he entertained himself by toying with the image of Della in his bed. It was all too easy to picture her there with that sweet face surrounded by a halo of dark curls, the taste of those lush lips, and the hot spice of her blood on his tongue.
He drank the last of the hot chocolate and tossed the cup in a handy trash can. Time to move on. The streets remained quiet with no sign of those three youngsters he was looking for. The sun would start peeking over the Cascades to the east in a couple of hours. He’d stop at the special ops office in the local precinct to see if there’d been any new reports of missing teenagers.
Then home to bed, alone as usual.
Hey, McHale, haul your ass in here.”
Eagan winced. He’d hoped to sneak in to check on a few things, and then escape without being seen. Obviously that wasn’t going to happen. He tossed his coat on the back of his chair and headed for Lt. Hughes’s office.
Close the door.”
That was the boss’s token effort at offering privacy, not that it worked when the man only had two volumes—loud and even louder. Couple that with the fact that everyone who worked for him was a supernatural of one sort or another, and the door did little to muffle the particulars of any conversation.