Page 13 of Positively Pricked
I sat up in the confined space and tried to ignore the random fork or whatever that was poking against my right ass-cheek. I ran a nervous hand down my frilly white apron and said, "The thing is, I was looking for a candle."
His jaw was so tight, it was a wonder he could even speak. "A candle."
I hesitated. Wasthata question? Again, I wasn't quite sure. "Right. You know. The kind you put under a serving thingie to keep it warm?"
Damn it.The thingie had a name. Normally, I knew the name, but the guy was looking at me with such loathing that I was finding it hard to think.
He moved a fraction closer. "The doors," he said, "why were they shut?"
"You mean the van doors?" I gave them a quick glance. "I shut them because it's freezing out."
If the answer satisfied him, he sure as heck didn't show it. "It's April."
Yes, but it wasearlyApril, and this was Indianapolis, not Tampa. And besides, springtime or not, the night was unseasonably cool. Somehow, I managed to stammer, "Right. But it's dark, and there's a breeze."
Right on cue, that same breeze ruffled the ends of his thick hair, making him look like a some kind of movie star in one of those annoyingly sexy slow-motion shots. It was especially annoying now, becausethisguy wasn't moving at all. Instead, he was eyeing me with open hostility.
Like an idiot, I started blathering. "So, you see, I shut the doors to keep it out – the breeze, I mean. I would've fired up the van – you know, for the heat – but I didn't think it would take so long to find the candles." I gave a nervous laugh. "I don't suppose you have any on you?"
He didn't even crack a smile. "Who do you work for?"
So much for softening him up with humor.
"Vista Catering." I pointed vaguely to my right. "It's, uh, written on the side of the van, actually."
His gaze didn't waver, and he made no reply.
I cleared my throat. "If you don't believe me, just look." I plastered on another smile. "Go on. I'll wait."
Or, I'll run screaming into the house for my purse and car keys.
Stupid? Probably.But the guy was making me nervous, and not only because he'd caught me eavesdropping. For all his money, there was something about him – something barely civilized – lurking underneath his rich, glossy surface.
One thing I knew for certain, this was a guy who wasn't afraid to break a few eggs. And right now, I was feeling like a giant chicken.
In front of me, he still wasn't moving. He repeated his question, more slowly this time. "Whodo you work for?"
I was freezing and tired – and yeah, maybe a little scared. I hated being scared. In fact, I decided, I wasn't going to be, not tonight.
When I spoke, my voice came out snippier than I intended. "Vista Catering. Youdidhear me, right?"
"I heard you."
"But what? You don't believe me?"
"No. I don't."
Damn it.The way it looked, there was no way on Earth that I'd be leaving with my catering job still intact. Oh sure, anything was technically possible, just like it was technically possible that I might win the lotto someday, well, if I ever splurged on a ticket, that is.
I sighed.Oh, screw it.
If I was going to get tossed out anyway, there was no point in groveling. "You know what?" I said. "You're right. I was just hanging out here for fun. I mean, why would I be out watching a movie or something when I could be crawling around in a van, looking for a stupid candle in a pile of forks."
He gave the van's floor a perfunctory glance. "If that's your story, it needs work."
"It wasn't a story," I told him. "It was sarcasm. Youdidcatch the tone, right?"
His gaze narrowed. "I caughtsomething."
