Thirst
Page 8
They walked out into the frigid night air and he led her to his car. It was a black SUV, nondescript really. He put his groceries in the back then turned to her.
“Shall I drive you home?”
“You’ll never find parking,” she said. “How about I meet you at the café? It’s just down the road. You can’t miss it.”
“Not ready to let me know where you live?”
She smiled. “Not yet. I need a better read on you first.”
“That’s all right. I will change your mind by the end of our dinner.”
“Maybe,” she said noncommittally.
He chuckled. “You’d be safer walking with me than on the street by yourself. But I won’t press. How long should it take you?”
“No more than twenty minutes. I have to put the cold stuff away.”
“Of course. Well, hurry. I’m starving.”
“Me too. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Renee hurried away and turned the corner.
Her groceries were heavy and normally she would be mentally complaining about it, but her mind was busy with other things. In fact, it was in overdrive.
“This is absolutely a bad idea!”
Saying it out loud seemed to give it power and her heart began to race. What was she thinking? Picking up a strange man in a supermarket. That was something desperate women did, wasn’t it? And she was far from desperate. Oh sure…she was alone…but she wasn’t desperate or lonely. She liked her solitude. She lived her life the way she wanted to live her life and didn’t have to answer to anyone. She didn’t have to worry about stepping on someone’s toes or picking up after a slob or any number of things she’d had to do when she’d had boyfriends in the past. She’d lived with men before, but had never married. She’d never imagined herself so in love that she wanted to tie herself to someone for the rest of her life.
Wait a minute. This was just dinner for heaven’s sake. He wasn’t asking her to marry him. He simply wanted to enjoy a meal with her and get to know her better.
But what if he was a stalker? Or worse yet a serial rapist or killer or something like that?
She looked over her shoulder and didn’t see him following her or even looking around the corner. The snow was coming down stronger, but she could see down the street easily enough. There was a strange effect on the sidewalk, like heat rippling in the air, but she figured that was probably from the sewer air meeting the much colder air above.
She didn’t have far to walk, her place just a corner and several buildings away from the market. She climbed the steps to her brownstone and hustled up to her apartment. She quickly put her groceries away. Suddenly she stopped, her hands in a bag, and said aloud to the room, “You’re really going to do this, aren’t you?”
She was. He was charming, cleanly dressed, well-spoken, and handsome. Those dark good looks and stormy gray eyes were nothing to sneeze at. He was polite and interesting on the surface. Sure, everyone always showed their best side when meeting someone new, but maybe his best side was his always side. Maybe he was just a nice guy.
Great. She kept vacillating between thinking he was Ward Cleaver and Ted Bundy. She had to pick one. And she was only going to figure out which if she finished putting away her groceries and got her ass down to that café.
Mind made up, she put the last of her things away, hurried into the bathroom to dash on a little eye makeup and lip gloss, then went back out into the cold and snow.
Chapter 3
Renee arrived at the café half expecting Rafe might have come to his senses and left. After all, she wasn’t your average sweet and likable girl. She had been called tough and intractable, jaded and overly aware of the bad things in the world. She sometimes expected the worst in people…but on the flip side she always hoped for the best. In a nutshell, she was an acquired taste. And apparently he wanted to acquire her. He was sitting just inside the door and when he saw her, he rose to his feet and stood close to her.
“I thought you might change your mind,” he murmured into her ear. She half expected his intimacies were going to hit her the wrong way, but for some reason they didn’t. Instead of irritating her, they left her feeling warm inside.
“I won’t say the thought didn’t cross my mind.”
“You wouldn’t be human if it didn’t. I don’t take offense.”
“I’m glad that you don’t,” she said with a smile.
“Come, let’s eat.”
They were led to a small table in the rear of the restaurant and she was surprised when he pulled her chair out and then helped her out of her coat, hanging it on the back of her chair. His fingers brushed her shoulders as he did this and the warmth of him sank into her chilled bones. She shivered at the contrast.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“A little,” she fibbed. “I’ll warm up quickly.”
She took her seat and he sat across from her. His dark eyes brooded on her for several minutes, until she shifted in discomfort.
“I’m sorry, I’m staring,” he said. “But you are an extraordinarily beautiful woman. And you’re carrying a gun.”
She laughed, feeling warmed by his compliment and silly for not leaving her weapon at home…or at least putting it in her purse where it wouldn’t be visible.
“I’m sorry. I think I forgot it was even there.”
“Why are you carrying a gun? I hate to think it’s for protection from me.”
“I think subconsciously it is, or else I would have put it away. But also I’m so used to wearing it, it just slipped my mind. I’m a cop.”
“Ah. I see. What kind of cop are you? I know New York has many different kinds of police officers.”
“I’m a detective.”
“So you solve crimes. Murders?”
“Yes. Mostly murder.”
“I see. And I assume that keeps you busy?”
“Well…yes.”
“That’s unfortunate. I would much rather you be out of a job.”
“So would I. But unfortunately that’s not the world we live in.”
“No. It’s not. This is a violent world with violent cultures and subcultures in our society. It’s a sad reality.”
“Yes. It is.” She could see he genuinely felt regret for his fellow man’s need for violence. It said a lot about him.
“Shall I drive you home?”
“You’ll never find parking,” she said. “How about I meet you at the café? It’s just down the road. You can’t miss it.”
“Not ready to let me know where you live?”
She smiled. “Not yet. I need a better read on you first.”
“That’s all right. I will change your mind by the end of our dinner.”
“Maybe,” she said noncommittally.
He chuckled. “You’d be safer walking with me than on the street by yourself. But I won’t press. How long should it take you?”
“No more than twenty minutes. I have to put the cold stuff away.”
“Of course. Well, hurry. I’m starving.”
“Me too. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Renee hurried away and turned the corner.
Her groceries were heavy and normally she would be mentally complaining about it, but her mind was busy with other things. In fact, it was in overdrive.
“This is absolutely a bad idea!”
Saying it out loud seemed to give it power and her heart began to race. What was she thinking? Picking up a strange man in a supermarket. That was something desperate women did, wasn’t it? And she was far from desperate. Oh sure…she was alone…but she wasn’t desperate or lonely. She liked her solitude. She lived her life the way she wanted to live her life and didn’t have to answer to anyone. She didn’t have to worry about stepping on someone’s toes or picking up after a slob or any number of things she’d had to do when she’d had boyfriends in the past. She’d lived with men before, but had never married. She’d never imagined herself so in love that she wanted to tie herself to someone for the rest of her life.
Wait a minute. This was just dinner for heaven’s sake. He wasn’t asking her to marry him. He simply wanted to enjoy a meal with her and get to know her better.
But what if he was a stalker? Or worse yet a serial rapist or killer or something like that?
She looked over her shoulder and didn’t see him following her or even looking around the corner. The snow was coming down stronger, but she could see down the street easily enough. There was a strange effect on the sidewalk, like heat rippling in the air, but she figured that was probably from the sewer air meeting the much colder air above.
She didn’t have far to walk, her place just a corner and several buildings away from the market. She climbed the steps to her brownstone and hustled up to her apartment. She quickly put her groceries away. Suddenly she stopped, her hands in a bag, and said aloud to the room, “You’re really going to do this, aren’t you?”
She was. He was charming, cleanly dressed, well-spoken, and handsome. Those dark good looks and stormy gray eyes were nothing to sneeze at. He was polite and interesting on the surface. Sure, everyone always showed their best side when meeting someone new, but maybe his best side was his always side. Maybe he was just a nice guy.
Great. She kept vacillating between thinking he was Ward Cleaver and Ted Bundy. She had to pick one. And she was only going to figure out which if she finished putting away her groceries and got her ass down to that café.
Mind made up, she put the last of her things away, hurried into the bathroom to dash on a little eye makeup and lip gloss, then went back out into the cold and snow.
Chapter 3
Renee arrived at the café half expecting Rafe might have come to his senses and left. After all, she wasn’t your average sweet and likable girl. She had been called tough and intractable, jaded and overly aware of the bad things in the world. She sometimes expected the worst in people…but on the flip side she always hoped for the best. In a nutshell, she was an acquired taste. And apparently he wanted to acquire her. He was sitting just inside the door and when he saw her, he rose to his feet and stood close to her.
“I thought you might change your mind,” he murmured into her ear. She half expected his intimacies were going to hit her the wrong way, but for some reason they didn’t. Instead of irritating her, they left her feeling warm inside.
“I won’t say the thought didn’t cross my mind.”
“You wouldn’t be human if it didn’t. I don’t take offense.”
“I’m glad that you don’t,” she said with a smile.
“Come, let’s eat.”
They were led to a small table in the rear of the restaurant and she was surprised when he pulled her chair out and then helped her out of her coat, hanging it on the back of her chair. His fingers brushed her shoulders as he did this and the warmth of him sank into her chilled bones. She shivered at the contrast.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“A little,” she fibbed. “I’ll warm up quickly.”
She took her seat and he sat across from her. His dark eyes brooded on her for several minutes, until she shifted in discomfort.
“I’m sorry, I’m staring,” he said. “But you are an extraordinarily beautiful woman. And you’re carrying a gun.”
She laughed, feeling warmed by his compliment and silly for not leaving her weapon at home…or at least putting it in her purse where it wouldn’t be visible.
“I’m sorry. I think I forgot it was even there.”
“Why are you carrying a gun? I hate to think it’s for protection from me.”
“I think subconsciously it is, or else I would have put it away. But also I’m so used to wearing it, it just slipped my mind. I’m a cop.”
“Ah. I see. What kind of cop are you? I know New York has many different kinds of police officers.”
“I’m a detective.”
“So you solve crimes. Murders?”
“Yes. Mostly murder.”
“I see. And I assume that keeps you busy?”
“Well…yes.”
“That’s unfortunate. I would much rather you be out of a job.”
“So would I. But unfortunately that’s not the world we live in.”
“No. It’s not. This is a violent world with violent cultures and subcultures in our society. It’s a sad reality.”
“Yes. It is.” She could see he genuinely felt regret for his fellow man’s need for violence. It said a lot about him.
