On the Hunt

Page 46

"Because, Katie, you're not going to let this guy intimidate you or snub you." Sunny sniffed at the air, feeling her dander rise. As an African-American woman who'd spent her whole earthly life in the Deep South, she had some experience with prejudice and being socially overlooked; she wasn't about to stand by and let that happen to Kate. Besides that, even when it came to fairly harmless insults, Sunny remained highly protective of Kate.
Shay clearly shared that emotion, and began trotting up the stairs in a huff. "I'm gonna find my brother's sorry ass. Don't you two worry. James Dixon! " she bellowed at the top of the steps. She kept calling for him upstairs, sounding completely put out with her brother.
Sunny shook her head in disbelief. "Talk about rude. Where's that boy hiding?"
"I'm not hiding anywhere," a deep, highly masculine voice drawled from behind her. "Ready or not, here I come."
Slowly Sunny pivoted on her booted feet, and found herself face-to-face with the closest thing to a human angel that she'd ever seen. Maybe his name was downright prophetic. With his bright, luminous green eyes, beautiful face, and broad shoulders, she'd have sworn he was hiding a pair of wings on him somewhere.
With a half-cocked, sexy grin, he extended his hand. "Jamie Angel," he said, his voice pure gravel and seduction. "You must be the friend."
Sunny blinked up at him, confused, overwhelmed by how outrageously handsome he truly was.
"Friend?"
"Yeah, the one my sis is gunning to fix me up with." He raked a slow gaze down her body, lingering for too many seconds on her full breasts. "Now I can see why."
Kate bounded forward and swatted him on the arm. "James Angel, you shut up now. This is my best friend, and I'll not have you . . . pawing at her."
He held up both hands innocently. "I didn't lay a finger on her."
"No, you just clapped your hound-dog gaze on her like she was fine china at a yard sale. Sunny Renfroe isn't cheap and she sure isn't your type."
"Who says she's not?" Jamie asked huskily, never moving his sultry-eyed gaze from Sunny.
"You, Kate? We already know I don't trust you or your kind, so why should I put any faith in your evaluation of my 'type'?"
"I'm standing right here!" Sunny cried. "Would you both chill the heck out and stop talking about me like I'm not even in the room?" She stomped a foot, flushing at the way Jamie's light green gaze slid back to her. She returned the stare, tilting her chin defiantly. "Good Lord almighty, Jamie Angel, you're as bad as they all say. Worse, maybe."
One elegant eyebrow lifted. "Who all?"
"Just about every woman in this town . . . your own sister, even."
Jamie rolled his eyes. "So Shay wants to fix us up, and yet she's warned you that I'm a scoundrel?"
Sunny couldn't help laughing. "Bull's-eye. Her exact word for you."
"Think that's the first time I've heard her call me that?" He stepped much closer, smiling down at her so broadly that his dimples deepened. "What do you say I show you around the place? Take you for a walk down to the creek marsh?"
Those were the words he used, but the message in his eyes suggested something much, much more dangerous. It was as if he were playing a game with her, seeing how far he could push her boundaries while he toyed with her.
Sunny squared her shoulders and drew in a cleansing breath. She had a mission here, and it didn't include getting ogled by—or ogling—the subject of said mission. "Look, let's have a nice, pleasant round of introductions, and then we can all— all of us—go sip a little tea, whatever."
"It's brunch, Shay style. In the formal dining room." Jamie gave a gallant half bow, and the elegance of the gesture was at total odds with his worn cowboy boots and faded jeans. Preppy?
Not so much. Or maybe he was just tricked out in his Sunday casual.
He extended his hand again, and smiled his fallen-angel's smile once more. "Nice to meet you, Sunny Renfroe. And just for the record? You can be my type anytime."
The devil. Sunny flushed even hotter, and glared at him. He knew she found him beautiful; he knew that every woman, throughout his short mortal life, had found him sexy, at least to some degree. His gaze drifted down her body, and he actually cocked his head sideways for a better look at her long legs, which were highly visible because of her miniskirt. She flushed, hoping she hadn't missed cleaning off some obvious speck of demon's blood.
"Nice," he said in a slow, simmering tone. "Very, very nice."
She'd been around men with money before; they had a tendency to believe they could buy or own anyone or anything that suited their fancy. Well, she sure as heck wasn't a show horse or an antique vase or any other object of beauty he could purchase when the whim struck him.
Sunny planted a hand on her hip and repaid his assessing study. She started on his face, taking in the strong jaw covered in light beard growth, then lingered on his full, luscious lips. But she really kicked into gear by dragging her gaze down to his hips and mimicking his earlier gesture as she angled for a better look at his rear.
Then, with a nonchalant shrug, she said, "Nice."
Jamie looked pleased with himself, puffing out his chest. That was probably why Sunny couldn't resist adding, "I mean, if you like white dudes with wimpy physiques. That kind of nice . . . I guess."
"Wimpy?" Jamie repeated in disbelief. He was built, and at six foot four, no one had implied he wasn't strong and muscular since he'd grown seven inches in the ninth grade.
Who was this chick? Shay had said she was human, yet something was different about her. She sure didn't smell like a vampire, didn't have that tangy scent that was coming off Kate. In fact, she actually emanated a kind of gardenia aroma, one of heavenly sweetness. Among Jamie's many spiritual gifts, he was what he termed "a smeller," for lack of a better word. It was more than having the sight, which he'd had since he was not quite ten years old. Being able to spot demons was just one part of his unusual abilities. He could also identify supernatural entities based on the way they smelled. He'd even, occasionally during Easter, smelled the Holy Spirit while in church. A perfect aroma unlike anything found on earth.
Sunny, with her high-heeled boots and short skirt, smelled pure and sweet. Could she somehow be a demon, masking her true nature by an act of subterfuge? No, that wouldn't work, because their entire property was warded against demons and dark spirits. Besides that, there wasn't a demon within a half-mile radius that he wouldn't sniff out.
"What are you?" he blurted, catching another whiff of her downright gorgeous scent.
She laughed, a light, tinkling-chimes sound, smiling so hugely that her big brown eyes crinkled at the edges. It was an innocent, totally surprising sort of smile, one that spoke of goodness and true joy.
She looked up into his eyes, her own lovely brown ones sparkling. "Oh, honey, puh-lease! Just because I put you in your place, now I'm suspect?" she teased. "Is it really that uncommon for you to get as good as you give, Jamie Angel?"
And he actually blushed. He, the always smooth, ever-unflappable guy, felt heat creep all the way down his neck. It wasn't what she'd said—it was all in how she was smiling up at him, the warmth in her gaze, the gentle mockery in her eyes. She was so unlike the women he always dated, with their rode-hard-put-up-wet expressions, their stale flirtations . . . and yet she was flirting. Wasn't she?
"Speechless, are you?" She laughed lightly, and finally broke their long, shared glance by turning to Kate. "He's a pussycat, baby," she told her best friend. "All meow and no bite at all."
He frowned back at her, his earlier flirtation gone. Initially, he'd been playing a role with her, one that was intended to annoy the crap out of Kate Rabineau and possibly even tick off Shay for having set him up like this. But all that was changing by the millisecond because of one simple fact: Sunny was ravishing, with honey-dark skin that had a glow to it, almost as if she'd been touched by the sun. Her eyes were wide set and almond-shaped, with long, dark lashes. They gave her a mysterious look—they were also sexy as living hell. Ordinarily, he'd have been all over her for the duration of her visit, but he was truly unsettled by the unusual, eerie innocence he sensed in her. It was downright otherworldly, and he couldn't be wrong about that fact.
"Jamie?" Sunny prompted, staring up into his face. This time she sounded almost . . . concerned.
He studied her, rubbing his temple. There had to be a way to pin down her true identity and nature. His mind whirled, grasping at any number of possibilities. The radiance of her burnished skin was lovely, but it wasn't normal or human. This chick literally seemed to glow a little.
He squinted down at her, as if somehow his sight might kick into overdrive and cough up the goods on the woman. "I . . . Seriously, Sunny. Where'd you come from?"
"I grew up here, in Savannah."
"From what age?"
"Since I was a kid," Sunny said, eyeing him oddly. "Why?"
He turned to Kate. "Do you see it?" he asked, even though he knew she was the last person who'd validate any theory he might form about her best friend.
Kate didn't balk or deny, but she did stare at him as if he weren't quite speaking English. Then she turned sideways and took a good long look at her friend. After a moment she shook her head in confusion, facing him again. "Jamie, what are you talking about? I'm the only vampire in this house right now."
He shook his head numbly. "She's not a vamp."
"I'm glad you can see that." Sunny laughed, the sound musical, beautiful. Strangely soothing and hypnotic.
"No, trust me; I realize she's not a bloodsucker."
Sunny scowled at him. "Now, that, Jamie Angel, is just plain rude. And you here, in your big plantation house, I'd think you'd know better how to treat a lady."