Page 4 of Edge of Darkness (Night Prowler 4)
His smile grew mocking. “Halfway there. Close your eyes.”
It was her turn to narrow her eyes at him. She glanced around the store. There were a dozen people within eyesight; the women’s book club that met every Wednesday sat at a table near the back of the store—all six of them still gaping at Christian—a few more customers were browsing the aisles. She was probably safe.
When her gaze fell back on Christian, his lips were pressed together but his eyes were bright and amused, as if he was trying to hold back a laugh.
Let him laugh. She knew from experience that you were never safe, even in the most familiar of places. Life had a way of knocking you down and spitting in your face when you least expected it, then cutting off your legs at the knee when you tried to stand back up.
Think of the sale, Ember. Think of your rent. Indulge him and get a payday or piss him off and get evicted.
She huffed a short, impatient breath, then closed her eyes.
She didn’t really know what to expect, but what she definitely wasn’t expecting was a slow, sliding stroke of his finger, feather-light, from her inner wrist down the center of her palm.
His touch jolted through her like a bolt of lightning.
She gasped. He warned softly, “Eyes shut.” So she kept them shut and let the feeling of his finger languidly sliding against her skin sizzle through her, snapping her nerves alight like a thousand switches had been flipped to “on” inside her body. She became exquisitely aware of her breathing, the warmth in her cheeks, the smell of old books and the sweet musk of the cone of incense burning in a far corner of the shop, the low murmurs of the book club ladies and the rain drumming outside on the cobblestones. Every sensation was heightened because her eyes were closed, blocking out the room and all its color, light, and distractions.
In a dark, soft voice, Bedroom Eyes said, “You can’t see me touching you, correct?”
Breathless, Ember nodded.
“So how do you know I am?”
Because I feel it in places in my body I barely remember having.
She shoved that thought aside and aloud said, “Because I can feel it.”
His finger withdrew. The electric tingle abruptly ceased. When she opened her eyes Christian was staring at her. As she stared back at him, some unknown emotion fleetingly crossed his face, hardening those perfect features, darkening his eyes. A muscle twitched in his square jaw.
“That’s how you know something’s real. It doesn’t matter if you can see it. Your eyes can and will play tricks on you. But if you can feel it, it’s real.”
There was a lesson here, but Ember wasn’t sure if it was in any way related to what he’d just said. It seemed more likely her body had just tried to tell her something, the same thing his eyes had told her when she first saw him. Come closer and Stay away.
She swallowed, embarrassed by her heated cheeks, disturbed by her fluttering heartbeat. She straightened and looked him in the eye. “And this relates to your first edition Casino Royale…how?”
The smile returned, dazzling in its dark, knowing perfection. “Because I can trust you not to swindle me. I can feel it.”
She laughed a little disbelieving laugh, unsure if he was toying with her or being serious. Either way, it probably didn’t matter. She was going to give him his book and never see him again.
And good riddance. She didn’t need a beauty queen—king—panty-melter like him hanging around her bookstore. There’d be so much ogling going on, no one would ever buy a damn book again.
“Okay, then, Mr. McLoughlin. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
From the corner of her eye, Ember saw Sofia approach. One of the book club ladies, she was sixtyish and matronly, with a stout build and an alarming, tall gray bouffant coiffure. Her lack of a youthful figure didn’t seem to be standing in the way of her determination to get an introduction. She sauntered forward like a paunchy lioness looking at an easy meal, her eyes roving all over Christian as if she was deciding which part to sink her teeth into first.
Ember turned her back on him, strode resolutely to the end of the counter, and reached Sofia before she could do something embarrassing. She’d been widowed more than ten years, and never missed the opportunity to stalk a young, good-looking man. Ember had seen it end badly too many times before, and was determined to spare her from another humiliation.
“Do you ladies need a refill on your tea?”
Ember tried to communicate with her eyes that Sofia should go back to her table. But, as luck would have it, Sofia took a wrong step and twisted her ankle on an uneven floorboard Ember had been meaning to fix as soon as she had the money. Eyes wide, hands outflung, Sofia pitched forward with a small, surprised cry. It happened so fast Ember didn’t have time to react.
Christian, however, did.
Somehow, from all the way down at the end of the long counter, he was there in time to catch Sofia before she fell. With a hand under one arm, he steadied her and brought her back to her feet with a murmured, “Watch your step, madam. These old floorboards can be treacherous.”
Sofia, wide-eyed, hand fluttering around her neck like a big, pale moth looking for a place to land, breathed, “Oh, yes, they can. How silly of me. Thank you, Mr…?”
He didn’t take the bait. He simply smiled down at her—incredibly, she simpered and blushed—then released her arm and turned his keen gaze to Ember.
